"Not even a little bit," I admitted and let him study my eyes and face to determine the truth.
"You scare me," he whispered, and then ran his nose down the length of mine. It was such a sweet thing, but somehow it also turned me on. "I am crazy for you, do you know that?" he admitted. "You've flayed me. Stripped me. And all I am now is a man desperate for your love."
"You've got it," I whispered back, floating on a cloud of bliss, but nonetheless aware I meant every word.
"I'll treasure you," he promised. "I'll take good care of you. I'll give you everything I can."
I stroked my hand through his hair, the words such a solemn promise that I had nothing worthy of a reply.
"Sleep, beautiful angel," he whispered, kissing me on the nose, the cheek and then the lips. "Sleep." My eyes fluttered as though his words were a command.
"I'm lost," I think I heard him say, but sleep was swift in coming. "You've undone me," he might have added, but I was already gone.
Then a deep and familiar voice whispered in my dreams, "And I gladly surrender. Dancer, you own me."
My mind kept repeating those words. Dancer, you own me. Over and over again. Or maybe just in the few seconds before Ric woke me with a soft caress down my side and hot, wet kisses over my sensitive neck.
I climbed up out of the deep restful bliss of sleep, dream-fogged, body sated, to pitch black before my heavily lidded eyes, and Ric's persistent, but tender touch.
"What time is it?" I mumbled.
"Shhh," he murmured. "Don't wake up just yet."
I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but it must have still been the wee hours of the night, because he wasn't trying to haul me out of the bed for our "debrief" with Nick at seven. My eyes fluttered closed on a sigh as Ric's hot hand soothed over my naked back, curved over my butt cheeks and then worked its way back up again.
He was petting me. Stroking, skimming, brushing, and then as his hands rolled me onto my back like a limp noodle, I realised he'd decided to add fondling to the list of caresses. His finger circled first one nipple, then moved on to the next when he was satisfied with its hardening peak, and slowly worked his way in delicate swirls over my stomach and to between my legs.
It was thrilling and sleep was definitely no longer on the cards, but the darkness in the room and the late hour with lack of sleep and emotional exhaustion on top, made wakefulness impossible as well. I dozed through his ministrations, hummed my contentment with each touch, felt my body float, as though it was lifting off the bed with every single stroke of his fingers and palm.
I'm not sure how long he did it for. I may have entered deeper sleep at some stage, but I rose to wakefulness as he worked his way inside. His hands pressing into the mattress at the sides of my face, the heat of his chest warming mine, as his hips rocked between my spread thighs, inching his cock in, then withdrawing again, and then repeating it all over again.
I moaned.
"Shhh," he murmured again. "Don't wake up."
How could I not wake up to this?
I rocked my hips to meet him as he seated himself fully, but then he withdrew in a slow, sensual glide immediately. My hands moved to touch him and he shifted his to grip them, placing them above my head with one large clasp of his palm.
"Don't move," he instructed.
"Ric," I moaned.
"Just feel."
Oh.
His hips rocked in a primal rhythm, but so, so slowly it was almost too much to bear. I wanted more friction. I wanted more weight. I just wanted more. But he kept the sensual pace up; steady, rhythmic, pulsing, pumping, gliding, torturing. So fucking hot I was making all sorts of whimpering sounds.
I'm not sure how he achieved it, but he had me coming in the most exquisite release, breathing my joy and wonder all over his face as he hovered above me, rocking those hips continually, taking me through the orgasm and sending me soaring all over again. I thought I'd need more stimulation, hard thrusts or a hand between our bodies, finger pressing into my clit. But his inexorable pace, the slow, sexy glide of his hard length inside me, rubbing in just the right spot and never stopping. Relentless. Persistent. Beautiful. It was more than enough to send me spiralling out of control.
He shuddered above me, let a moan of pure pleasure out as his own release pulsated deep inside. His face came down to the curve of my neck and he kissed the skin on the side, where he'd first kissed it when this all started. Then his hand released my wrists, soothing down my arms and curling them against my body as blood flowed through the limbs once again.
I was tingling, panting slightly and trembling from head to toe.
"Shhh," he whispered again. "Sleep, sweetheart."
I made a sound as he pulled out, did something which I assumed was to do with the condom, and then curved his body around mine.
"Couldn't help myself," he murmured against my face as his arm wrapped around my stomach and he tucked me under his thigh. "I'm fucking perverted," he might have said, but the warmth of his body, the sated, floating feeling in mine, and the darkness of the room soon had me sinking back into sleep-filled delight.
I'd never been able to do that. Fall asleep after coming. Usually adrenaline rushed through my veins making my body alert and ready for action, floating in a way that tended to make me jumpy, as if I could take on an army or fly from a great height.
But I'd never been made love to like this. Softly, slowly, wrapped up in blissful darkness. Quiet murmurs, hot breaths, tender touches. It had been exquisite. It had been a true gift. Ric had given me something no man had ever been able to before.
I've been told I'm beautiful, complimented in many forms. I've had expensive purchases rained down on me. Great, mind blowing orgasms in every way, shape and form. I've even had one man tell me he loved me. But never, never, have I felt this. Had this.
It was precious. A treasure. And I fell asleep with a smile on my face and the warmth of a man who stole my breath away. Then filled me up with butterflies and dazzling light and all that is good in the world.
I was in love. And it was transcendent.
A light from the far side of the room woke me, followed by the sound of the shower running in the attached bathroom. Morning had come and with it the harsh awareness of what was in store. Tempered with a slight ache in my body that made me stretch like a languid cat in amongst crumpled sheets smelling of sex.
Today we'd deal with Jaxon and even that thought couldn't wipe the grin from my face.
"Now, I hope that smile is for me," Ric said, as he walked in the room drying his hair with a towel. He had another wrapped around his hips, hanging low, showing off impressive lower abdominal muscles, the path of his happy trail, and a chiselled chest that made me drool.
"I know that look has to be for me," he said with a smirk, flexing his muscles slightly and receiving a roll of my eyes.
"I bet you say that to all the girls," I grumbled as I rolled off the bed and headed towards the bathroom at his back.
I had to walk past him to get there. I didn't make it.
"There's only ever been one girl for me," he whispered into my ear as he pulled me close to his body.
He smelled of soap and sunshine, if sunshine had a scent, and him. My nose buried into his chest of its own accord and then I licked a drop of water off his pec, just because.
"We'll be late if you keep that up," he complained, but didn't stop his own path with his lips across my shoulder.
"You grabbed me," I reminded him. "And what do you mean there's only ever been one girl?"
His body rumbled with laughter and hot breath tickled my ear.
"Every time we talked on-line. Every time you wrote code and my programme picked it up. Every time I looked at a fucking computer screen, I got hard. For you."
Well, what could you say to that?
"Don't tell me you haven't dated in the past three years?" Yeah. That's what you don't say to that.
His laughter grew louder.
"Yes, I have dated.
No, I didn't think of you when I was with them. But it still didn't make me stop getting hard when we talked on-line, you wrote code I located and I sat in front of a fucking computer. Not exactly the best response to have when you work in a small room, frequently filled to the brim with observant private investigators, and had a girlfriend waiting at home. Something had to give. So, more often than not, it was the girlfriend."
Wow. Where to start with all of that?
"Why didn't you just get in touch with me? You know, make contact, quell your curiosity and get me out of your system."
Ric pulled back and looked down at me. He still held me in a loose embrace, arms wrapped around my waist, groin to groin, hips to hips. But he'd placed space between our upper bodies, so he could look me in the eyes when he spoke. His were intense, dark green.
"You have no idea how hard it was to stop myself from finding out your name. Finding you. But it was the last line of defence that I was determined not to cross. And then you hacked me. So, all bets were off."
"I couldn't have done that," I admitted. "The temptation..."
"The temptation made it hot."
"You've probably built me up as some sort of unattainable fantasy," I commented.
"Dancer. The reality far outstrips the dream."
"Does it?"
"Baby," he said with a soft smile. "I thought you were blonde."
"What?"
"I've never gone for blondes," he whispered. "Always liked brunettes."
"Then why did you think I was blonde?"
He shrugged his shoulders. "Something you must have said one day that led me to believe you were blonde. And then you appeared on my screen. Sleep tousled dark chocolate hair. Beautiful big brown eyes. And those legs. Fuck me, I had some perverted fantasies about those once I'd seen them. Never thought you'd have legs that defy nature, make a man think impure and debauched things."
"So what did you fantasise about me before you knew my name and what I looked like?"
Another shrug. "Your voice mainly, although I didn't know it would sound so husky and sexy-hot. I knew how you thought, though. The words you used. So, I fantasied about you having a dirty mouth, talking slutty to me while I fucked you from behind as you wrote code." He shook his head, looking mystified. "Your words. I fantasied about your words. Jesus fuck, I am perverted."
I started laughing. I couldn't hold it in any more.
"It's not funny!" he exclaimed, but he was grinning. "It's demented."
I laughed harder, pressing a hand into my stomach because the muscles had begun to hurt.
"It's not even hard core," Ric mumbled. "I could at least have imagined you sucking me off with sexy eyes and a naughty smirk. Although," he added, ignoring my now loud outbursts, "I did picture an itty-bitty thong on more than one occasion. And glitter. Truck loads of fucking glitter. I think I might have imagined getting it on my cock."
I barked out another laugh. He ignored it.
"Does that count as good, debauched fantasy fodder? Glitter on my dick?"
I took a step backwards and landed on the edge of the bed, missing it enough to slide off the side and end up in a heap of hysterical laughter on the floor. I ached. My chest, my throat, my eyes, my stomach. All from laughing so hard I thought I might just pee.
"Can you get massage cream with glitter?" Ric asked, appearing in front of my blurry eyes. I think he was on all fours. "No, if we're to do this fantasy, it should be lubricant with glitter. We could decorate your pussy. Or here's a thought, I could screw your boobs, mounds of plump glitter covered beauties," he added, his hands moulding to my breasts and squeezing. "While my glitter covered cock strokes back and forth."
I sucked in a deep breath and then moaned as his thumb and finger pinched both nipples at once.
"Fuck," he murmured. "Can't stop imagining it now."
I blinked the moisture away and stared up at him.
"Do it," I whispered.
He swallowed.
"You want me to fuck your tits?"
"Yeah. We'll make do without the glitter."
"Bloody hell," he breathed, still fondling my breasts, massaging, rubbing, kneading. "I..." he started, then cleared his throat.
"Do it," I repeated, watching with intrigue as he unravelled before my eyes.
This was power. This right here. He was coming apart at my words. Words he'd fantasied hearing me say for close to three years.
I slid down further and laid myself out on the floor in front of him. His hands followed my breasts as though he was attached to them and would never let them go.
"Baby," he said, almost a warning.
I gripped my breasts on the sides and lifted them up, pressing them tightly together.
"Imagine the glitter," I whispered. "Imagine it all over my tits, coating your cock, floating on the air between us.
He made a sound. Half choked, half in exasperation. And then he was moving, looming up over my body, removing his towel from his hips and settling one knee on either side of my waist. He grimaced as his bad leg bent, but I kept his focus on my boobs, moving them, shaping them, arching my back and moaning through my lips.
"Do it," I pleaded.
"Like this?" he husked, shifting to all fours again, then using one hand to guide his straining erection into place. "Squeeze them tight," he ordered. Then let out a moan as his first stroke thrust through me. "Need lubrication," he panted, leaning over and stretching to reach his jeans which were still on the floor. "Always come prepared," he muttered, pulling out a small tube and then letting it dribble over his cock. He saw that I was watching transfixed, so moved the gel like substance falling from the tip of the container to my breasts instead. All the while holding my eyes with his.
He painted me, then used a hand to rub it over my skin. And finally he moved his shaft back into place and started to rock.
"Amber," he moaned.
"Think glitter," I teased.
"Pervert," he shot back and then lost himself to the sensations. To the fantasy brought to life. To the moment.
To me.
And I lost myself in him. His face in suspended slack-jawed bliss. His voice as it rasped out on a cry of release. His hot come as it coated my breasts and up onto my chin.
Ric might have been turned on by my mind and what I'd said to him over the past three years on-line. But there was no denying he was turned on by me. By my body. By this.
His heated green eyes half opened to look down at me and then he slowly lifted a hand and rubbed his release all over my chest.
It was hot. Sexy as fuck. And it was exactly what it seemed.
Him claiming me. Marking me. Telling me I was his.
I had a feeling there would be no more walls. We'd stripped each other back, looked into the dark abyss of our pasts, and not turned away.
I was Eric Shaw's. He was mine. Both given freely and accepted.
And, fuck, it felt good to be the possession of a man like him.
And to know I owned him too.
Primal. Basic. Beautiful.
So fucking good.
Chapter 30
Never Let It Be Said That What Can Break Us Can Never Make Us Shine
The tablet computer sitting beside the bed - God knows when he'd placed it there, I'd known he still held it, but hadn't seen where it went when we rushed in here last night - chimed, distracting us both from our staring match. A staring match that had heated up and was destined to become something else.
So maybe the chiming of the tablet was a good thing.
Ric growled, shifted his gaze to my come covered chest and then smirked. The tablet forgotten again.
"You wear me well," he murmured, running a finger through the mess.
The tablet chimed again.
"You better get that," I whispered. "And I'll get washed up."
He frowned.
"No," I argued. "I am not wearing you all day."
"No fun," he whispered, offering me a smile and a soft kiss on the lips. And the
n he sprang up to full height and held out a hand to help me upright.
I was surprised at his dexterity, considering his bad leg. But I think Ric was still floating, somewhere in the vicinity of cloud nine. He was definitely feeling no pain. Endorphins. I made a mental promise to make sure he received a lot of that chemical in the future, because it clearly worked wonders on his pain.
I walked into the bathroom with a smile, only to be halted at Ric's expletive back in the room. I turned slowly, dread washing all other emotions away. Slamming into me like a two tonne truck.
"What?" I asked, lips already numb.
The minute his eyes came up to mine I knew he was contemplating lying. Hiding the truth. Telling me to go have a shower, everything's all right. It wasn't. I could see. But he thought about saying it. He thought about misdirecting me. And then he shook his head, crossed the space between us and reached for my hand.
"Baby, come sit down for a sec."
Oh, God.
"Is it Dad?"
"No, your father's still fine, this is something else. Come. Sit," he encouraged softly.
"Just say it," I whispered, my body unable to hold out much longer. I thought I'd felt fine this morning. No more tiredness. Fighting fit.
I'd thought wrong.
"I need to check this all out with Nick and see what they've come up with in control," Ric started.
"Don't you dare go without telling me first."
"It's not officially confirmed. It's just happened and we don't know for sure."
"What?" I pleaded.
He sighed, clenched his fingers in mine.
"The C&C building has just collapsed."
What?
"Collapsed?" I asked, not certain how to take this. It wasn't exactly what I had expected, and I wasn't sure what it meant. Or how I should feel.
"They're thinking explosion," Ric explained, glancing at the tablet's screen.
"Like a bomb?"
"Or a gas leak," he offered. "It's undetermined at the moment. HEAT have been called in."
HEAT, that was the fire investigators.
"So, it's burning?"
Ric nodded.
Oh, God. What time was it? I glanced at the time display in the lower right corner of the tablet's screen. Seven-fifteen. We were late, I thought distractedly. But seven in the morning at C&C would mean no one was there. Just an empty building. Thank fuck.
Sweet Seduction Stripped (Sweet Seduction, Book 7) Page 23