Delicious

by Lori Foster, Lucy Monroe, Sarah Little

Not even Danny, the only man she’d ever shared her body with.

  Bonnie poured them both a glass of the duly approved wine, put the bottle in a standing ice bucket beside the table, and left.

  Blake looked at her with an enigmatic expression and took a sip of his wine. “You used the safe word.”

  “I almost fell off my chair.”

  “Was that why?”

  Had he thought she meant to end the game entirely? “Yes.”

  “Does that mean you want to play?”

  The sense of recklessness that had been growing since she realized she would soon be out of his life forever drowned her inner caution under a tsunami wave that left room for no other answer than a positive one. She nodded.

  “I need the words, Ivy. I want your verbal surrender.”

  “This isn’t a war.”

  “No, but it is a campaign, and I want it clearly understood that I have your permission to invade your territory.”

  Considering the type of lovemaking he wanted, the level of personal sexual submission he was asking for, she could understand completely his desire for absolute clarity on what she was willing to do and participate in. It just went to show that no matter how dominant he wanted to play in the bedroom, he didn’t want to take anything she wasn’t prepared to give.

  She liked that. She liked it a lot, and it gave her the courage to give him the verbal confirmation he needed.

  “Yes, I want you to love me.” She meant that quite literally, but she would settle for the physical variety. She didn’t have any choice.

  The prospect of never knowing anything of his love for her entire life was too depressing to even consider.

  “Any way you want,” she added for good measure.

  Passion and approval flared in his eyes. “You don’t know how much that pleases me, sweetheart.”

  The rich satisfaction in his voice was hard to mistake.

  “I think I do.”

  He smiled. “Maybe you do.”

  He didn’t try to play footsie with her again, or say anything even borderline embarrassing as their meal was served and they began to eat. They discussed his proposal for upgrading the inn, and she had to admit his ideas were sound. Neither of them mentioned the fact those ideas would put her out of a job.

  He probably thought she was overreacting and didn’t see that as the actual outcome. She knew better, but had no desire to diminish the rapport with a negative reminder.

  They were halfway through the main course, and she had just finished telling him a humorous story about one of the guests, when he got that look in his eyes again. The sexy-pirate-I’m-going-to-ravish-you look.

  Her breath caught in her throat, and she stared at him with the feeling she’d just been caught in the hunter’s sights and no matter how fast or far she ran, it wouldn’t be enough to get away.

  “I want you to go to the ladies’ rest room and remove your panties, then come back to the table.”

  “What?” she demanded in shock.

  “You heard me.”

  “But, Blake!” She’d never done anything like that in her life.

  “You know what to do if you have a problem with that.” There wasn’t the least amount of give in his expression, and the tone of his voice challenged her.

  “I’m not wearing panties,” she said, blurting out the first thing that came to her mind, just managing to keep it to a staccato whisper so other diners did not hear.

  If he’d looked dangerous before, he now looked positively feral. “Hose or thigh-highs?” he asked in a guttural voice.

  “Hose.”

  “Go to the ladies’ and remove them.”

  Ivy stared at him. All she had to do was say his last name, and he wouldn’t ask her to do it again. She was tempted. It would be safer. It would also establish limits she wasn’t willing to go beyond—limits she’d never gone past before—but he’d said he wanted to push her past those limits, and the thing was . . . she wanted to be pushed.

  She took a sip of her wine, wetting a suddenly dry mouth.

  “Ivy?” The look of concern mixed with sexual hunger in his eyes wrapped itself around her heart and squeezed.

  This man was so incredible.

  She pushed her chair back and stood. “I’ll be right back.”

  Blake couldn’t believe she’d done it. He couldn’t believe he’d asked. Hell, he’d always been an aggressive lover, but he’d never felt this need to obliterate a woman’s sexual boundaries. Except that was exactly what he wanted to do with Ivy Kendall.

  She was so controlled. So buttoned up and proper. Giving control to him in the bedroom would be hard for her, but ultimately rewarding. He knew it. They both knew it, or she wouldn’t be on her way to the rest room right now, her hips shifting in a subtle rhythm that made his arousal pulse painfully against his fly.

  Ivy walked back to the table, feeling free, just a little naughty, and very, very excited. She wondered if he’d taken into consideration the fact that without her hose, the moisture between her legs might get uncomfortable. Not that she felt uncomfortable. She felt sexy, feminine, and daring. It was incredible, the way the air brushed her most sensitive flesh.

  She slipped into her seat, amazed at how the silk of her skirt’s lining sliding against her bottom could be such an erotic experience. Her panties never made her feel like this.

  Blake looked at her with one eyebrow quirked in question.

  “Yes, I did it.”

  Four

  His smile was pure sexy male bent on dominating his mate, but tinged with surprised pleasure, as if he’d been waiting to hear she would chicken out at the last minute. Once again she considered how the submissive partner actually had a lot of power in this particular game.

  She ate very little of the remainder of her dinner and nothing at all of dessert. With so many butterflies doing loops and dives in her stomach, she was too charged to eat.

  When he finished his dessert, he complimented the wait staff and the chef before leading her back to the elevator. Once again he had a proprietary hand on her waist, but this time the night clerk was too busy with a customer to notice.

  She peeled away from Blake as soon as they entered the small enclosure, her senses overwhelmed by his nearness. The past half an hour had been an exercise in self-control for her. Every movement she made reminded her of her less than fully dressed state, and she’d had to stifle more than one moan as pleasure jolted from one synapsis to another in a never-ending domino effect.

  She stood against the far wall while he closed the gate and started the elevator’s ascent with the key.

  “You’re good with the employees,” she commented, unnerved by the silence between them as the elevator slowly rose.

  “Am I?” he asked, turning to face her.

  The look of untamed desire in his eyes made her legs weak, and she leaned back against the wall. “Yes,” she said breathlessly. “They were all thrilled by your praise.”

  “You’ve got a well-run operation here, Ivy. Your employees know their jobs and do them well.”

  “Thank you.”

  “However,” he said, his voice lowering to a seductive rumble, “their boss is not so cooperative about doing her job.”

  The dark menace in his voice sent a perverse thrill of delight spearing through her.

  “I’m very cooperative,” she argued, wondering where this game was going.

  He reached behind him, and the elevator stopped moving. They were between floors, which meant no one could see them and they could see nothing but the wall through the brass gate.

  She was locked in total privacy with him in a space that left no room to run. She didn’t want to run, but an atavistic chill made her shiver all the same.

  He shook his head, looking regretful. “No, Ivy, you’ve been a very bad employee.”

  “I haven’t,” she gasped.

  “But you have. You’ve fought every suggestion I’ve made for improvement. You’ve missed important training meet
ings. That sort of insubordination has to be dealt with.”

  “Um . . .” She didn’t have an answer for him, but sweat trickled down her back. If this was leading where she thought it was leading, she might have to stop the game.

  “Come here, Ivy.”

  Incredibly, legs she thought too weak to move took her the steps across the elevator until she stood directly in front of him. She hadn’t consciously decided to obey him; she simply had. She was forced to tip her head back to see his face.

  “I think you need a lesson in cooperation, don’t you?”

  “Uh . . . what kind of lesson?” She wasn’t sure she hated the idea of being spanked in love play, but she wasn’t sure she liked it either.

  He cupped her face with one hand and leaned down until he was speaking against her lips. “Are you worried?”

  “A little.”

  His hand reached around and caressed her backside. “You need some discipline, sweetheart, and I’m just the man to give it to you.”

  Her breath seized in her chest, and it was all she could do not to choke on her own nervousness. “D-discipline?”

  He cupped her bottom, kneading the resilient flesh with a gentle touch belied by the ruthless expression in his eyes. “Not all discipline is punishment, Ivy.”

  “Oh.”

  “Do you know what the word discipline means?”

  She should, but right now remembering her own name was a little difficult. “No.”

  “It means to teach. I’m going to teach you how to cooperate.”

  “H-how?”

  “By demanding complete and unreserved cooperation from you from this point forward.”

  Her immediate relief that he hadn’t been talking about a sexy spanking was mitigated quickly by one question: what would he ask her cooperation in doing?

  “Are you ready to take your discipline like a big girl?”

  The condescending question set her back up, and she glared at him. She could take whatever he wanted to dish out. “Yes.”

  “Good. Kiss me.”

  Now, that was no hardship. She’d wanted his lips back on hers since cutting off their kiss earlier. The gentle kiss in the elevator had been too short to come anywhere near assuaging that need. She pressed her mouth against the one he had so obligingly brought down to her level. At the feel of his warm lips against hers, a rush of pleasure whooshed through her body. She clasped his head with both her hands and deepened the kiss, darting her tongue between his willingly parted lips.

  She tasted him, loving the warm, wet texture inside his mouth, the yummy essence that was his alone, and the feel of their lips locked in a battle as old as the first man and woman.

  Her already peaked nipples tightened and ached for his touch. She pressed her breasts against him and rubbed like a cat. It felt wonderful, but it wasn’t enough. There were too many layers of clothing between the two of them.

  She whimpered.

  He broke his mouth from hers. “What do you want?”

  “I . . .” She couldn’t say it.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  The direct order reminded her that this was supposed to be an exercise in cooperation on her part, and she’d already decided she could take whatever he threw at her.

  Then his blue gaze warmed, and he brushed the backs of his fingers against her temple. “Come on, honey, you can do it. Tell me what you want, and I’ll give it to you. Whatever it is.”

  “You know what it is,” she said breathlessly.

  “Maybe. I want to be sure.” He played with the skin exposed at the neck of her blouse, making her shiver in response. “Tell me.”

  How could one man be so caring and yet so relentless at the same time?

  She forced her lips to form words they’d never formed before when speaking to a man. “I want your hand on my breast . . . on my nipple,” she said on a rush of brutal honesty.

  “I want that, too.” His hand slid down her chest, under her jacket and cupped her small breast.

  He upbraided the aching nipple with his thumb.

  She groaned.

  “You like that?”

  “Yessss . . . ”

  “I like it, too. Your body turns me on.” He pressed against her, giving concrete evidence to his claim.

  “You excite me, too.”

  “Do I?” he asked, his voice a sensual caress to her ears.

  “Yes.”

  “Are you wet for me?” he asked.

  She buried her face against his chest, the bluntness of the conversation getting to her. “Yes.”

  “I want to feel.”

  Her head jerked up. “What?”

  His eyes were set on her with serious intent, his mouth a firm line of uncompromising strength. “I want to see how cooperative your body is right now. Lift your skirt.”

  “But I’m not wearing any underwear.”

  His lips twitched. “I know.”

  His amusement mixed with the cool challenge in his devilish blue eyes decided her before she even considered whether or not she wanted to use the safe word. She reached down and grabbed her skirt by the hem on either side of her hips. She inched it up until it barely covered the apex of her thighs.

  “All the way, sweetheart.”

  If he’d been watching while she did it, she probably wouldn’t have been able to, but he was looking into her eyes, his gaze compelling her to acquiesce. She didn’t even know how he knew she hadn’t uncovered herself completely. Nevertheless, she brought the skirt up the last couple of inches. Air tickled her damp curls and caressed her bare bottom.

  He moved back slightly, reaching down between them. His fingertips played gently over the top of her mound and upper vulva. It felt so good, she closed her eyes and savored each small movement.

  “Spread your legs.”

  Without opening her eyes, she shifted until her thighs were far enough apart for his hand to slip between them, but he didn’t trespass her outer lips. His fingertips barely touched the sensitive hairs covering her sex, making her yearn for more and whimper with that need.

  “Do you want me to touch you?”

  “Please . . .”

  One finger slipped between her slick folds and probed her entrance. “Yes, you are wet for me, aren’t you? That’s a very good sign of your cooperation. In fact, that kind of cooperation deserves a reward, don’t you think?”

  She couldn’t think, couldn’t make sense of his words in order to make a response. She could only react to her body’s needs, rocking her hips, seeking deeper penetration with his finger. But then the heel of his hand was pressing against her clitoris.

  And it felt so good. “Oh, Blake . . . oh, oh, oh . . .” “Keep your skirt up, Ivy, do you hear me?”

  What? Oh . . . “Yes.”

  She tightened her grip on the skirt’s hem until her fingers ached from the pressure.

  His mouth claimed hers again, the kiss hot and hungry.

  He slipped another finger between her thighs and then used them to tease up and down the sides of her labia, the heel of his hand continuing its teasing stimulation of her swollen sweet spot. Tension like she’d never experienced spiraled inside her until she was shaking with preorgasmic muscular rigidity.

  She moaned against his lips, the sound shocking in its carnality. She needed more, but couldn’t make herself break the kiss and tell him. She moved her body against him, riding those fingers in a wanton abandon she would never have considered herself capable of.

  He added a third finger, using his middle one to caress her clitoris directly while his others continued the massage of her vulva, and then he pinched the nipple he had been teasing with his thumb. She detonated, pleasure exploding inside her with the power of an atomic split.

  Blake swallowed Ivy’s scream, his own body perilously close to going off.

  She was so damn responsive.

  A rush of hot moisture covered his fingers as she jerked against him in spasmodic convulsions in the longest climax he had ever
witnessed in a lover. He kissed her through it, gentling her with his fingers and his mouth until her quaking had been reduced to a mere quiver.

  Finally, she sagged against him as if she’d lost the ability to stand on her own. Hell, she probably had. This was not your average cop a feel in the elevator.

  He slid his mouth from hers, placing calming kisses against the corner of her lips and against her temple. “You are amazing, sweetheart.”

  Her head fell against his chest, and a sigh shuddered out of her. “You’re the amazing one. That was incredible.”

  He removed his hand, and then he tilted her head back so she could watch him as he cleaned his fingers with the only thing handy, his mouth.

  Her eyes widened. “Oh . . .” But she kept watching him, an expression of fascination coming over her features.

  He popped the last finger out of his mouth. “You taste good.”

  “Do I?” she asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “Want to taste?” he asked, pressing his fingertip against her lip.

  Several emotions swirled in her soft brown eyes. Confusion. Alarm. Curiosity. Desire. “I don’t think—”

  He pushed his finger between her open lips. “Taste.”

  She closed her lips around him and sucked tentatively.

  His dick pressed against his pants like a tidal wave trying to break over a dam. It hurt in a very good way. “Use your tongue, baby, taste it.”

  She obediently swirled her tongue around him, and his body jerked and shuddered against her as his sex pulsed in a short beat that left the tip wet and the shaft ready to finish.

  His control was hanging by a thread, and her hot mouth clinging to his finger was going to be the scissors that snipped it.

  But he didn’t want to take her for the first time in the elevator. He wanted her in his bed and under him. He wanted to do more than join their bodies; he wanted to stake a claim.

  He reached behind him with a hand that trembled and turned the key. The elevator started its ponderous ascent upward.

  The movement jolted her, and she catapulted from his arms, landing against the back wall with an audible thump. She still had a grip on her skirt, and the sight of her glistening red curls almost did him in.