"I think you're making me nervous. No one has ever assumed they knew what I was thinking before. Or tried to anticipate what I wanted. I'm not sure if I like that."
Smiling, he helped her to her feet. “Let's find your friend, Allison. Maybe she can set your mind to rest that I'm quite a safe person. I won't harm you. But I do want to be alone with you.” This time his hand fell to the small of her back. He itched to slip his fingers inside the low-cut material, to caress the smooth, warm skin hidden beneath. His fingers caressed the silk, and he felt her tremble. He was certain it wasn't fear.
He led her into the other room, where Allison would have been hard to miss. She was putting the moves on a beautiful young blond-haired Adonis.
"Allison...."
She turned, appearing slightly irritated by the interruption. Her expression smoothed when she saw who it was. “Daimaen, Sylvie. So how are you getting on?” Allison kept a hand on the forearm of the young man who stood next to her, caressing him.
"I need you to convince your friend that I'm harmless. I've asked her to dinner, but I think she's concerned I'll take advantage of her."
Allison smiled an I-knew-it smile. “Sylvie, he's harmless, unless of course, you don't want him to be. He won't take advantage of you, really. You'll be safe with him. Unless of course, you don't want to go? Maybe he's not your type."
Daimaen scowled at her. Allison was teasing and he wasn't in the mood. Sylvie was unclaimed and he wanted to remove her from temptation until he got to know her better.
"Allison, I don't know ... I mean, I don't want to leave you stranded."
Allison gave a throaty laugh. “Sylvie, you don't have to worry about me. I'll be just fine. By all means, go and have a good time. Really, I trust him to be a gentleman.” She arched an eyebrow and there was a devilish twinkle in her eyes. “Unless, of course, you don't want him to be a gentleman. Then I'm sure he'll oblige."
"I'll see she gets home safely, Allison. You don't need to worry."
"Oh, I won't worry. But I'll be calling her on Saturday. Just to make sure. Have a good time.” She turned back to her young admirer.
Daimaen found Sylvie's coat, spoke with their host for a moment and then whisked her out into the cool night to his Mercedes.
She stopped before getting into the car and turned to him. “One question before I get in. Do you think you could tell me your last name? There's just something about not knowing a person's full name, if you know what I mean. Especially since I am allowing you to spirit me away like this."
He smiled and nodded. “Of course. My last name's Sinclair. And yours?"
"Taylor. My name's Sylvie Taylor."
"I'm very pleased to meet you Sylvie Taylor.” He handed her into the car. “We'll become much better acquainted over dinner."
* * * *
Sylvie couldn't believe what she was doing. This was totally out of character. First, she'd bought and actually worn this very revealing dress, then she'd attended a party with Allison that she really had concerns about, and now, she was going to dinner with someone she'd just met. What had gotten into her? She wasn't normally this impulsive, but there was something about him that wouldn't allow her to say no.
"Relax.” Daimaen was obviously at ease. He'd made a quick call on the cell phone, apparently to obtain reservations at the restaurant they were going to.
Sylvie's eyes widened as they turned into the parking lot of a very exclusive restaurant. It usually took months to get reservations. “How did you do that? How could you possibly get a reservation that quickly?"
His smile was very self-assured. “They know me here. Simon will usually make an exception for me."
When Daimaen had come up to them at the party, he took her breath away. She'd never met anyone as heart-stoppingly gorgeous—tall, dark wavy hair, perfect tan, velvet brown eyes surrounded by dark lashes. He walked with self-assurance, unconcerned about anyone else in the room, yet commanding attention.
Once introduced, he'd practically taken over her life. It was subtle, but still she was uncomfortable with the feeling. Why had she agreed? It wasn't like her at all.
His touch. When he touched her, she just wanted to melt into a puddle. She'd never felt like that before. There was a leashed power in him. He seemed to understand things about her that she didn't understand herself. It made her want to surrender. She shivered, and it wasn't because she was cold.
Her door was held open for her. Daimaen helped her from the car. His hand at the small of her back tingled. What did he expect of her?
They were immediately shown to an intimate table. Sylvie had to admit she was impressed. The waiter handed them each a menu.
"May I order for you? I dine here often and am familiar with the selections."
After a small hesitation, she closed her menu, silently consenting to his request. When the waiter came back with a bottle of wine and two glasses, he gave him their order. The waiter poured the wine, Daimaen sampled it, then nodded. Once he left, Daimaen took another sip from the ruby liquid and sat back, studying her. His sensual scrutiny made her nervous.
"You have questions. Please ask them."
Sylvie licked her lips. He was so in control. “I think I'm out of my depth here. What do you expect of me?"
"I expect nothing that you aren't willing to give. I'd never do anything to harm you."
"Why me? Allison glossed over the real purpose of the party, but I get the feeling the people who attend those parties aren't what they seem."
"What did she tell you exactly?"
The way he was staring at her made the blood in her veins heat. She swallowed. Was it fear she felt? Or something else?
"She said she was into darker sexual fantasies. I took it to mean being tied up, hitting, you know, the whole bondage thing.” She was uncomfortable with the discussion, but before this went any further she wanted to be honest with him.
"Is that what you think I want to do to you? Tie you up and beat you? Hurt you?"
"I don't know. But I'm not into that kind of thing. I just want you to know. Maybe you better just take me home. I don't think this is a good idea."
Daimaen reached across the table to take her hand. He brought it to his mouth. Lightly he brushed his lips across her knuckles. She shivered at the contact. “You're very beautiful. And sexy. Do you really think I would want to cause you pain? I'm talking about pain as you know and understand it."
"But I don't understand. What other kind of pain is there besides the hurting kind?” The touch of his lips was doing strange things to her insides. It felt like a fire was lit in her stomach, and she felt a wetness begin to pool between her legs just from his deep vibrating voice. That had never happened before.
"There's a pain that lives at the border of pleasure. It enhances pleasure. I'd like to teach you about it. To show you ecstasy, to teach you about passion."
Her breathing quickened. She couldn't break eye contact with him. Her words came out breathy. “Who are you, Daimaen?"
He seemed to ignore her question. “Do you know anything about the world that Allison has introduced you to?"
Sylvie shook her head. “I'm totally clueless."
"Why did she think you might be interested in this lifestyle? There must be something you told her?"
Now Sylvie was embarrassed. She couldn't relate the conversation she'd had with Allison. It was just too personal. She looked away from him. “I can't..."
Daimaen turned her face toward him with the tip of his index finger. “Tell me, Sylvie. You must trust that I won't betray your darkest secrets. Tell me what you said to her."
His deep chocolate eyes held her mesmerized, and she couldn't look away. The touch of his hand, caressing her chin sent shivers through her body. Her nipples felt painfully sensitive beneath the dress; they were hard with arousal. She'd never felt like this with any man before. “I told her..."
"Yes? What did you tell her?” His voice was a soft command. God, the way he said her name had her wh
ole body throbbing with desire.
"I told her, I'd never ... I'd never been ... adequately stimulated before.” She felt the heat of embarrassment spread across her face.
Daimaen's hand shifted to caress her neck. He lowered his head, his mouth hovered close to her ear, she could feel his breath. “Ah, Sylvie. No man has ever made you come? Is that what you're trying to say?"
Jerkily, she nodded her head. Oh God, she couldn't believe she just told him that. “Yes,” she breathed, “that's what I'm saying."
"Are you a virgin, Sylvie?"
"No,” she whispered.
His hand moved down to brush lightly at her breast. “Are you aroused right now?"
She closed her eyes and nodded. His hand felt so good. Is this the pleasurable pain he was talking about? Her body responded to him like a piece of clay in a sculptor's hands.
"Tell me, Sylvie. Are you wet?"
She lowered her head, embarrassed to meet his eyes. She couldn't believe how her body was reacting.
"Sylvie, answer me."
"Yes.” She had never felt so needy.
His hand glided along her thigh, beneath her dress, to the apex of her legs.
Her eyes widened as she looked up at him in panic. “You shouldn't do that. Certainly not here in the restaurant."
"No one can see us. We're very private here. I want to touch you. Spread your legs for me."
His hands felt so good. Deep inside, she knew she wanted more. She swallowed hard. She opened her thighs, allowing him access. His fingers reached past the silky material of her thong to her clit. His finger entered her heated, wet passage.
"Oh, my God.” Her words were low, tight. Her vagina grasped at his finger, hungry for his touch.
"You're very wet, Sylvie. I could make you come right here.” A second finger joined the first, his thumb rubbed light circles at her clit. His fingers moved inside her tight passage, stimulating, slowly penetrating. She couldn't breath. His warm whisky gaze held hers—she couldn't look away, and she fell headlong into sensations she'd never felt before.
The flush to her cheeks was no longer embarrassment, it was need, arousal. Need to feel him inside her. Her breathing grew labored. She was on the verge of something, she just didn't know what. Her head was thrown back, and her lids lowered. She needed ... what?
He slowly removed his fingers. She was empty. “I don't want you to come here. But I want you to think about what pleasures await—at my hands. I think, Sylvie, that tonight you will come for me. I believe Allison was right in her assessment of your needs."
Sylvie was now panting. She was in a haze of need she wouldn't have thought possible. Lord, she'd never met anyone like Daimaen in her life. It scared the living daylights out of her.
She watched transfixed as he sucked at the fingers that moments before had been inside her. “Mmmmm, delicious."
His smile was sensual, promising her feelings and experiences she'd never known. Her womb clenched in anticipation.
My God, what was she going to allow this man to do to her?
CHAPTER 3
He would have her. Just in the few short hours he'd spent with her, Daimaen knew Sylvie was meant to be his. He sensed that she was fearful, but excited. She was extremely sensitive to his voice, his touch.
Daimaen enjoyed talking with her through dinner. He touched her face, her hands, her arms, letting her get used to the feel of him. He'd drawn her close, teasing the underside of her breast lightly. He explored her lips with his tongue, tasted her. He allowed her to taste him. She was ready, her senses heightened, her skin sensitized.
"I think we should leave. It's time to take you home."
Her deep silver gaze studied his face. He saw fear and passion in their depths. From what she told him, Sylvie had never experienced real passion before, never lost control. She wouldn't know what she was feeling now.
Sylvie nodded slowly. As he helped her from her chair, his hand again settled at the small of her back, this time caressing her skin just beneath the edge of her dress. He felt her tremble and he smiled.
Daimaen assisted Sylvie with her coat. When they stepped outside, he handed a valet the parking stub. As they waited, he wound an arm about her waist, beneath her coat, and drew her close to his side, effectively shielding her from the damp night air. When the valet brought the car around, Daimaen guided her into it. Handing a tip to the young man, he then settled behind the wheel, and turned to look at Sylvie. “I'll need your address."
"Oh, yes, of course. I'm sorry.” She gave him the address, then turned away to look out the window.
He put the car in gear and left the parking lot. Her lack of conversation and the way she nibbled at her lower lip told him she was trying to get her emotions under control, looking for a way to shut him out. But it would be a losing battle. Moments later, he pulled into a parking spot beneath her apartment building.
After locking the car, he escorted her to the elevator. Sylvie pushed the button for her floor, but still wouldn't look at him. When they arrived at her door, he held his hand out for her key. Sylvie hesitated, but then gave it to him without comment. He opened the door and handed the key back to her, and stepped aside for her to enter, making no effort to follow.
Sylvie turned back and looked up at him, a question in her eyes. His gaze held hers for a long moment. “Do you want me to come in Sylvie?” He wouldn't assume this early in their relationship. She would need to ask him in. She swallowed, looked down at the floor, then back up at him.
"Yes,” she whispered. “Please come in."
"Are you sure?"
She nodded her head.
Daimaen placed a hand gently beneath her chin and raised her head so she looked into his eyes. “I need you to tell me, Sylvie. Look at me and tell me you want me to come in."
The breath she inhaled shuddered with need. “I'd like you to come in, Daimaen. Please.” Her voice was stronger this time.
He followed her into the apartment, closing the door behind him.
Sylvie hung her coat in the closet near the door. “Would you like something to drink? Coffee?"
Daimaen nodded and followed her into a spacious, modern, sunken living room. She indicated for him to sit.
He studied the room as he sat waiting. A white marble fireplace was the showpiece. There was a black oriental styled cabinet along one wall with closed doors, which he assumed housed her entertainment system. The sofa he was seated on as well as the chair next to it, were salt and pepper in color; the end tables and coffee table were glass and chrome. It was a room that projected a great deal of power, but he sensed it was a showplace only, not indicative of Sylvie.
She walked back into the room with a tray containing a coffee pot and two cups and saucers. She set it on the coffee table and proceeded to pour Daimaen a cup. “Do you take it with cream or sugar?"
"No, black is fine."
She turned and handed him the cup. With one hand he took the saucer from her and placed it on the end table. With his other hand he clasped her forearm and brought her to a kneeling position before him. He cupped her face.
Sylvie didn't look at him until he tilted her head upwards. He brought his lips to hers, sucking at them, gently biting her lower lip, until she arched toward him, reaching for him.
Grasping her wrists, he slowly brought her arms back down and held them behind her back as he continued to suckle and tease. The action arched her more prominently into his chest; he could feel her aroused, hard nipples. With one hand, he anchored her wrists, the other he brought up to cup the soft skin of her neck, then stroked her silky hair. He pulled the rhinestone clips from her hair and dark, silky waves plunged down, framing her delicate features.
The curve of her ear beckoned, and he kissed it, then trailed his tongue from lobe upward, along the outer curve. A shudder passed through her. “I want you to stand in the middle of the room and remove your dress slowly. Then I want you to come back to me here, just like this.” It was his first command. He re
leased her and sat back, waiting.
Sylvie looked at him, her eyes heavy with desire and uncertainty. “I ... don't..."
Daimaen's dark, bottomless contemplation demanded her acquiescence. “Now, Sylvie. You have a beautiful body. I want to see it. I've been waiting all evening for this moment."
He wouldn't allow her to look away from him, his compelling watchfulness continued to hold her. Her gaze shifted. “Sylvie, look at me. Don't turn away. Don't be embarrassed. You want this, don't you? You know I'm not going to hurt you."
She nodded her head, without breaking eye contact. Slowly, she rose to her feet and stepped back. He was in control; he knew it and so did she.
When she was at the center of the room, she reached back and unhooked her dress. After releasing the narrow straps, it loosened about her shoulders.
"Slowly, Sylvie.” He kept his voice low, hypnotizing. Again she attempted to avoid his intent scrutiny. “Look at me, Sylvie.” Her gaze came back to lock with his. He could sense her inner struggle, but the delicate pink blush that was spreading over her skin told him she was stimulated.
She brought her hands up to her shoulders and the dress slid along her arms, over her breasts, and down her hips to fall in a shimmering cloud at her feet. She attempted to hide her nakedness.
"Put your arms at your sides, Sylvie,” Daimaen commanded.
Slowly, she lowered them. A nymph of his fantasies stood before him. She was perfect—beautifully rounded breasts, firm pointed nipples, long waist that tapered to gently curved hips, and tanned well-proportioned legs. “Turn around slowly, Sylvie.” He watched as she moved, saw the curve of her smooth, creamy back, her rounded, firm bottom. Then she was facing him again.
"Come to me, Sylvie.” She stepped past her dress and walked back to him, clad only in a black thong and heeled sandals. He again urged her to a kneeling position between his legs. Inhaling her feminine scent, he smiled. He was going to enjoy initiating her into his sensual world.
Again, he pulled her hands behind her back and held them there, arching her back. Lowering his head, he circled her nipple with his tongue, then suckling it, drawing it more fully into his mouth.
Sylvie's Gift Page 2