Jesus. What was wrong with him? Why did her semijealous tone gladden him, and why the hell did the thought of her going out and having amazing sex with someone else drive him to want to punch something?
In the throat.
“Can I tell you something?”
“Yes.” He hoped she was changing the subject because this topic was aggravating him.
“There’s something I remember, before the whole robbery thing in that shop in Paris, it might be the last thing I remember...”
Luca’s stomach tightened and his arm twitched beneath her.
She propped herself up on his chest. “I remember this lamp. It was an antique silver lamp that reminded me so much of these stories my aunt used to tell to me and my cousins. Arabian Nights.” Her eyes lit with remembrance.
“Oh?” Luca relaxed his arms and exhaled a breath he’d been holding.
“I rubbed it.” She smiled with a faraway look. “Almost like I expected a genie to appear and grant me three wishes.” She met his gaze and stroked his jaw where his beard had gotten thicker. “I think it must have worked.”
Luca laughed. “You think I’m a magical genie?”
“I think what you do to me is magical and I’m pretty sure I’ve been granted more than my share of wishes.”
He snuggled her closer. “You sure you don’t have any unanswered wishes or...desires?” They’d just made love and yet Luca’s cock stirred at the thought of trying something new.
“Well...” Her expression changed from thoughtful to playful. “Remember when you asked me about my fantasies?”
“I might remember a conversation about fantasies.” Luca was purposefully vague.
She laid her head back down on his chest and drew circles on his abdomen. “I have this one fantasy...”
Seriously. He should be exhausted. Spent. There should not be one ounce of arousal left in him. But for Jasmine? There was. “I want to hear this fantasy.”
“I loved fairy tales as a kid. They’ve sort of informed my adult fantasies.”
“Is that so?”
“Yes. And there’s one where I’m dressed in a red cloak...”
“Like Little Red Riding Hood?”
“Maybe.” She lifted her head. The uncertainty that he hadn’t seen in a couple of days had returned. “Is that silly?”
“No. Tell me more.”
Her gaze slid to the side, recalling. “I’m walking through the forest and... I’m being followed.”
“By a wolf?”
She shook her head. “No. By a man.” She stroked his face. “I’ve always been more fixated on the huntsman than the wolf. Of course, he’s a shirtless man with a beard.”
“I am shirtless. I also have a beard. That is an interesting coincidence.”
“Yes.” She bit her lower lip.
“And then what happens?”
“He chases me.”
“Does he catch you?”
She nodded.
“And once he catches you?”
“He eats me. There’s a bit of wolf in him, after all.”
Luca groaned. His cock was rock hard.
“But first, he ties me up...”
How was it possible the woman had just described one of his own favorite fantasies? Easing her body off his, Luca rolled from the bed and went in search of something to wear. He bent down to grab a damp towel left discarded after their morning shower and fixed it around his hips.
“Where are you going?” she called.
“To get our clothes from the line. And then you’re going to town to find yourself a red cloak.”
* * *
She hadn’t found a red cloak when she took the bicycle to the village to shop, so she’d settled on a red dress, instead. In addition to that, she’d picked up some new underwear. Not that she was wearing any right now.
“Put on the dress,” Luca had commanded after she’d arrived back at the villa. He’d insisted on staying behind for who knew what reason.
Whatever the reason, it had evoked goose bumps along her arms despite the warm weather.
Jasmine had gulped. God, she loved it when he was authoritative. Maybe because she knew what it meant. He was going to take control of her body and give her the most mind-blowing gift of pleasure imaginable.
“Oh, and Jasmine,” he’d said over his shoulder. “Don’t bother with panties.”
Now Jasmine was out in the garden behind the house picking fruit. Clouds were gathering overhead and a breeze lifted the skirt of her dress and caressed her nether regions in a delightful way, reminding her of her pantylessness. She didn’t feel exposed, however—she felt positively content.
No. Not content.
Alive.
Electric.
Sensual.
Luca had said she would know when he was about to pursue her, but he didn’t tell her how she would know.
“Go out into the garden and wait for my signal.”
“What signal?” she’d asked.
“You’ll know when you hear it.”
“And then what?”
He’d smiled wickedly. “And then you run...”
She took a bite out of a pear she’d just picked. It wasn’t ripe yet and was bitter on her tongue. That was when she heard the engine of Luca’s motorcycle roar to life.
Oh, shit!
He wasn’t supposed to pursue her by motorcycle. That was cheating!
Jasmine dropped the pear and dove behind a tree. Already her heart was beating like crazy and her palms were sweating. She peeked around the trunk of the tree, and when she didn’t see any sign of man or motorcycle, she made a run for the boathouse, about seventy yards from where she had been crouching. When she got to the boathouse she tried the door. It was locked.
Damn.
She shouldn’t be breathing so hard after running such a short distance but she could barely catch her breath. Talk about fantasy and reality merging. There was no reason to be frightened. It was only Luca out there, and they were merely playing a game—her game—this wasn’t real.
But it felt real.
Maybe because she didn’t know what he would do to her once he caught her. The one thing Jasmine had no doubt about was the fact that Luca would catch her. Particularly given he was on the motorcycle. Pressing her body against the wall, she maneuvered around to the back of the structure. Only once she was on the far side did she hazard a quick glance around the corner of the wall to see if there was any sign of Luca.
Nothing.
However, the sound of the bike was louder.
Where the hell was he?
She needed a plan.
The dovecote was about fifty yards away to the east. In the opposite direction was a meadow of wild flowers and beyond that was the overgrown vineyard. That’s where he would expect her to go.
So, where should she go? Should she be predictable or should she play for real, attempting to evade him?
She leaned against the wooden wall and listened. The sound of the bike changed. He was on the move. She pressed a hand against her churning stomach and shut her eyes.
“Okay, Jazz. This is your fantasy. If you’re going to play, you’re playing for real, got it?”
She took a deep breath and peeped around the corner again. The sound of the engine was definitely moving in the direction of the vineyard. Dovecote it was, then. She slid along the wall toward the eastern corner and then, when she was positive the coast was clear, she dashed out into the open, heading for the cylindrical structure. It was shaded by large walnut trees, and soon Jasmine felt protected by the cover of foliage. There was no door on the crumbling building, just a rectangular opening, and she ducked inside.
Light filtered in through openings in the conical roof and Jasmine stared up in wonder. There must have been at least tw
o or three hundred nesting sites honeycombed into the walls, all empty now. She’d never seen anything like it.
What would it have looked like filled with birds?
Suddenly the sound of the bike grew closer and Jasmine realized she’d chosen a hiding place with only one entrance. Her heart pounded against her rib cage as if trapped and desperate to get out.
The bike drew closer, driving slowly. He was in the garden now.
Shit!
It was difficult to breathe.
Jasmine searched the interior of the structure. There was a small ledge halfway up the wall. Maybe if she climbed the nests she could hide on the ledge. She tested a stone pocket that had served as a nesting site. It seemed solid enough.
The sound of the bike came closer and Jasmine held her breath.
Shit. He was right outside!
Without another thought, she began to climb. It was easier than it looked, the little ledges for the nests made the perfect hand-and footholds. It would have been even easier if her palms weren’t so damp from sweat. She could see the ledge up above almost within reach. A couple more feet.
Then Jasmine realized something. At first she hadn’t noticed because of the blood pounding between her ears, but now, suddenly, she did.
Silence.
Luca had turned off his bike.
She glanced down to find him standing there, wearing nothing but his jeans and boots, a triumphant smile on his face. “Hi, Jasmine.” He stepped closer to the wall and peered up at her. “The view from here is fucking spectacular.”
She gasped.
A crack of thunder from outside startled her and her leg trembled, her toe slipping on the ledge just as the stone she’d been clutching crumbled beneath her fingertips.
From there, everything happened in slow motion, her body barn-doored—one hand, one foot still holding on as she swung out into thin air—and then she fell.
It was only four or five feet but it seemed to go on forever.
Oomph!
Luca broke her fall, catching her shoulders so that she landed with very little impact on her feet. His look of triumph was replaced by a look of fear. “Are you okay?” He smoothed hair away from her temple. It was still tender, even after a week. “Jasmine?”
She smiled up at him. “I’m fine.”
The dovecote was lit by a flash of lightning, which was quickly followed by a very close crash of thunder.
“We should—” Luca began.
Jasmine didn’t wait for him to finish. She spun around, ducked out the door and sprinted toward the house.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
WHAT WAS IT about a fleeing woman that evoked the instinct to chase? Seeing Jasmine dash across the lawn—skirt flapping, dark hair streaming out behind her—resulted in adrenaline surging through his veins followed immediately by a burst of energy. Making it almost too easy to catch up with her.
She squealed with what sounded like a mixture of fear and laughter when she glanced over her shoulder and saw how close he was. The sound only pushed him harder. He barely noticed that the skies had opened up and rain had begun—not until Jasmine slipped on the wet grass, almost losing her footing.
It was at that moment that he pounced, catching her off balance. He rolled so that when they hit the ground she landed on top of him, and before she had a chance to blink, he rolled her over beneath him, pinning her.
That didn’t stop her from struggling.
Jesus Christ.
Suddenly, her body went slack.
Dammit. Had he taken this fantasy too far? “Are you okay? Did I hurt you?” he asked.
“You should let me go.”
Instinctively, Luca climbed off of her and Jasmine scrambled to her feet. Too late, he saw the gleam of mischief in her expressive eyes.
“See you, sucker!” With a squeal she took off in the other direction.
A simple lunge and he had a handful of her skirt. He yanked her into his arms, spun her around, bent down and kissed her with the ferocity that chasing her had evoked. It was while she was moaning into his mouth that he grabbed the ties from his pocket and then twisted the fabric around her wrists, tying her hands together.
“Hey, that’s cheating,” she complained without conviction.
“I don’t recall any rules to this game other than you run and I chase.”
She panted while she looked up at him, her gaze hazy with desire.
“Do you like chasing me?” she asked, glancing knowingly at the crotch of his jeans.
“Strangely...yes.” Thinking the game had come to an end, Luca took Jasmine’s arm and started leading her toward the villa. He glanced down. “Did you like being chased?”
“Strangely, yes.” She winked, and with that, Jasmine bolted. Again.
God damn.
How had he found such a woman? Someone who matched him so well? There was nothing like it to get his blood pumping and this time when he caught her he wrapped his arms tightly around her slight body.
“Let me go.” She wriggled against him, her breasts brushing against his arms, her skin hot and wet against his bare chest.
“I’m not falling for that again.”
Luca held her tight with one arm while he reached around the front of her, bunching up the material of her dress in order to get underneath. He needed to touch her. He needed to know if she was as aroused by the chase as he was.
She was so turned on, her sweet pussy was weeping tears down the insides of her thighs.
Luca groaned into her hair and plunged his fingers inside of her. Jasmine keened, a primal, animal sound. Luca had heard that cry before. At least twenty times before. And he knew what it meant.
Jasmine fucking loved this as much as he did.
Luca was tempted to lay her back down on the grass and fuck her. He had a condom in his pocket and it would feel so good. For both of them. But the rain was falling in sheets and they were drenched. So, instead, Luca decided to stick to the original plan.
He pulled his hand out from between her thighs and sucked his fingers into his mouth. “You taste good, Little Red,” he whispered harshly in her ear. “I can’t wait to feast on you.”
Her knees buckled and he caught her, throwing her up and over his shoulder.
“Let me go!” She even went so far as to pummel her small fists against his back, but the resistance was all feigned as she nuzzled her face against his bare back and licked him.
Then she bit him.
Luca held the backs of her thighs tight against his shoulder as he trudged the rest of the distance to the terrace, enjoying the feel of Jasmine’s mouth on his skin. Kisses, licks and bites included. Instead of taking her to the master bedroom, where they’d spent most of their time thus far, he took her to the cellar door—that he’d made sure to leave open—and carried her down into the extensive wine cellar beneath the house. It was cool in the cellar, and Jasmine would probably feel a chill because of her wet dress.
That was fine; he’d have it off her momentarily.
The cellar was lit by every candle he’d been able to find in the house, giving it a warm and sexy glow. There was a worktable he’d set up as a tasting area and another one set against a grate on which he’d thrown a thick comforter. That was where he was going to tie her up.
But first, the dress. He fingered the zipper at her back.
“Holy shit,” Jasmine whispered, gazing around at the cellar. “I like the candles. But seriously? How much wine does one person need?”
The cellar was a remnant from when his mother’s family was a producer in the area. His father hadn’t wanted to continue cultivating the grapes here—it wasn’t champagne from the Champagne region, so what was the point?—but there were still thousands of bottles in the cellar.
Luca wasn’t looking at the wine, however. He only had eyes for J
asmine. Dripping wet, hair hanging in her face, her dress now unzipped and hanging off her shoulders. She was a magnificent sight.
The only problem was, with her arms bound, he had no choice but to use a knife to slice the thick straps at her shoulders.
“Luca!” she gasped.
“Shh,” he commanded. “No talking.”
She blinked at him, her lips turning up in a half smile as he peeled the wet material from her body.
“Unless you want me to gag you for real.”
She gnawed on her lip and shook her head.
“I am going to blindfold you. And you don’t get a choice about that.” Luca removed the other strip of cloth—shockingly still dry—from his pocket and placed it over Jasmine’s eyes, securing it behind her head.
She made soft little sounds at the back of her throat, and Luca took an extra blanket left folded by the table and rubbed her damp skin. Taking a step back, Luca took a moment to gaze at her—her faced turned blindly toward him, her hands tied together in front of her, reaching for him.
Trusting him.
Un-fucking-believable.
Warmth infused him as he carefully untied the rope from the bindings around her wrists, picked her up—blanket and all—and laid her down on the comforter. He secured her wrists to the grate by her head. The table wasn’t long enough for her entire body, ending at her knees so they bent over the edge. It was perfect for what he had in mind.
“Spread your legs,” he commanded.
She shook her head.
Damn. That wasn’t what he expected. He’d thought she was finished with the facade. Apparently not. But maybe this was better.
“Spread your legs, now.”
A soft mewling sound slipped past her lips, but she acquiesced. Luca’s dick throbbed with fierce need and he pulled out another couple of ties, eased her thighs even wider—to the accompaniment of gasps of pleasure—and tied each ankle loosely to a leg of the table.
The sight of her tied like that was almost more than he could handle.
“You shouldn’t have run. You shouldn’t have fought me,” he said, his voice coarse.
She wet her lips before continuing to breathe through her mouth.
“You leave me no choice...” He went to the table where he’d set up four bottles of wine ranging from crisp white to thick dessert. “Now I’m going to have to punish you.”
Pleasure Games Page 13