by July Hall
“Everyone out there is afraid of you,” she said. “Imagine if they could see you now.”
The thought made his skin crawl. It also made him throb. He gasped. She’d see, she’d know—what would she think?
But Sandra’s eyes were full of understanding. “I know. I felt the same way on the plane, when you said the stewardess might walk in and see me coming.” She stroked him. “It would have been so humiliating. I would have felt so dirty and cheap.” She kissed his throat. “And I got so wet thinking about it.”
Then she closed her eyes and slid her hand down her belly between her thighs.
“Sort of like right now,” she added with a breathless little laugh, and she rocked against her own touch with a sigh. Charles groaned. He should be the one pleasuring her. Instead, Sandra’s hand moved vigorously enough that it made her gasp, and he wondered if she was going to come right in his lap.
Her thighs quivered, but she clenched her jaw and appeared to stop just short. Then she took his cock in her wet hand. That slick, soft grip shorted out his brain. She began jerking him slowly, moving her hand up and down at the most leisurely pace imaginable.
“But it was just us then,” she said, “and it’s just us now.”
Just us, just us. For the first time, he understood why privacy was so desperately important to her. If she’d felt like this beneath his hands, so vulnerable and exposed…and if she’d liked it…
Sandra let go of his cock. Thank God. He needed a second to get his head back together. If she’d just give him a second.
She scooted forward in his lap and wrapped her legs around his waist, so that his cock was pressed up against, but not inside, her cunt. His shaft rested between her lips, while the crown prodded her belly and left smears of pre-come on it.
And she kept him there while she began playing with his nipples again, kissing his mouth, whispering his name and telling him how badly she wanted him. He couldn’t do anything to her. He could barely even think. Between one achingly soft kiss and the next, he heard himself moan, “Sandra!”
She pulled away from him and looked into his eyes. Now she was panting too, with flushed skin and swollen lips. If he could just get his arms free. He could comb his fingers through her hair, clasp her to him. Make her as crazy as she was making him.
“What do you want, baby?” she whispered, her breath touching his mouth.
The words were like a dash of cold water in the face. He’d forgotten, for a moment, what was at stake. Because she’d torn down his defenses, he croaked, “Everything.”
“That sounds easy,” she said, but the tease never made it to her eyes. She stroked his face. Kissed him again. “‘Please give me everything.’ Can’t be that hard, can it?”
Charles’s head fell forward until it rested against her shoulder. “You don’t know what everything is,” he panted.
She kissed his temple. “Then explain it to me.”
“I can’t.” He wasn’t being stubborn. He honestly had no idea how to explain to the naked girl who’d bound him and was sitting in his lap, her wrist bruised and her heart walled off, and whom he’d met mere weeks ago, that he wanted to marry her. It just didn’t seem like the right moment.
She made a disappointed noise. Charles closed his eyes against her skin. There had to be a way to figure this out. In fact, although he might die from sexual frustration, maybe if she backed away from him and put his clothes back on he could think of something.
“You did it before,” Sandra whispered. “In the car. You said, ‘Please kiss me.’ And I did.” She leaned in. “I did it like this.”
She kissed him in the way that melted him and drove him wild all at once, so gentle and tender, but with the promise of more. The kiss deepened by degrees, bit by bit, until their tongues were brushing and Charles’s cock had begun to ache so much he was afraid it had become a chronic condition.
“You said, ‘Sandra, please kiss me again,’” Sandra continued. “So I did.” This time he knew what she was up to, but it didn’t help him one bit to be prepared. It only made him more eager, more desperate when she kissed him again, just as she had on that day.
“Because I love kissing you,” Sandra whispered against his mouth. “I love making you feel good.” She stroked his nipples again. “I love it when you come.” He gasped. “In my hands, in my mouth, in my cunt.” She took hold of his cock again. “Anywhere you want.”
“Sandra...” Did he know any other words? “S-Sandra…”
“And then.” Her voice shook. So did she, faintly, against him. “Do you remember what you asked for next?”
“Oh God.” She kissed his mouth, and he choked, “Oh God.”
She slid off his lap but kept her hand on his cock, holding it steady. “You said…”
“No!” he gasped.
She froze, looking up at him, just as her mouth had parted over him. “No?” she said uncertainly.
No? Oh fuck, he hadn’t meant no. Why the hell had he said that? What could he possibly want more than for Sandra to suck him off right now?
“I—ah—what did I say, again?” he managed. She licked her lips. It looked more nervous than sensual, but he still had to close his eyes, and he still couldn’t stop a moan.
“You said, ‘Please suck my cock,’” Sandra whispered. “And—and I did.” He kept his eyes closed, because if he saw her like this he didn’t know what he’d do, and nodded.
And then, her tongue. It traced over his tip lightly, almost hesitantly. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t see. Her lips kissed him. Gave him little kisses up and down his shaft. Her tongue swirled again, now with more confidence, and the groan that came from his chest nearly broke him.
“Oh,” she whimpered, “oh God, I never liked giving head before we…”
She didn’t finish. Without warning, her mouth closed over him, so perfect and hot and wet. He felt her head bob up and down as she began to suck. Charles couldn’t open his eyes, he couldn’t talk, he couldn’t do anything but try not to go off. But why? Why hold back? Why not just fucking come already?
Because she hasn’t said you can. Half a second later, the helpful little inner voice added, Because you haven’t asked.
“I can’t,” he choked again.
He didn’t realize he’d said it out loud until Sandra said, “You can.” Then she swirled her tongue around his crown again. “I’ll give it to you.”
She might. She might not. He had more reason to believe the second than the first. But before he could find the brains to tell her so, she went down on him again, taking him as deeply as she ever had. He nearly thrashed, and if his hands hadn’t been bound, they would have been grabbing her head. As it was, he thought he heard something rip.
She said, “Mmm,” and then the wet heat vanished from his cock. Charles opened his eyes to see her licking her lips. Her mouth was covered with his pre-come, and she didn’t bother wiping it off before she leaned in for another kiss. He opened his mouth and welcomed her with a groan, tasting the proof of how much they wanted each other.
Sandra put her hand back on him, now that he was slick, and began to pump him slowly. “Did you like being on your knees?” she whispered.
Had he liked it? Jesus God, when his knees had hit the carpet he felt he’d been waiting to do it all his life. Would she tell him to do it again?
“Yes,” he panted.
“You didn’t get me there.” She nuzzled beneath his ear. “Almost, but not quite. I bet you could now.”
“Oh God. Yes.”
“If you went on your knees. With your hands tied behind your back.” She squeezed him. He made a strangled noise. “And your cock this hard. Oh baby.” Her voice broke. “You’d get me there in a heartbeat.”
He’d get her there, and he’d get there too. Charles knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that if they played out that scenario, he wouldn’t need her to touch him again. He’d come all over himself at the first taste of her.
Please. He could ask her for
it. Please. Trust her with it. Please.
Then Sandra blurted, “Oh God. I want you so much I’m crazy for you. D-don’t you know that?” She put her arms around his neck and straddled his lap again, then kissed him while his head spun, and he smelled cunt and come and sweat and beneath it all, the traces of a perfume whose name he did not know. “I want you. I’ll give you anything…”
Charles froze as he heard her in his memory, too. Please, I want you now. Anything you want, just anything…
She really didn’t remember, he realized. Oh Christ. She didn’t, she must not remember.
“No,” he whispered.
“If you ask—I’ll give it to y—”
“You will not!”
The words burst out of him in a furious, frustrated roar that even he hadn’t been expecting, much less Sandra, judging by the way she scrambled off him. He couldn’t take them back. She wanted his honesty. He could only look at her, feeling more helpless than he could remember being in a long, long time.
“Charles?” she said in a very small voice, not at all like the tone of command she’d used before.
While she stared at him, he began wrestling his way out of his coat sleeves. “I did ask you for something once,” he snarled. “I begged you. You didn’t listen. No, you listened—”
Her jaw dropped. “What? When did—”
“You heard me, and you ignored me.” He yanked his coat all the way off and tossed it aside, then rolled his shoulders, which had begun to hurt. Then he started to take off his shirt.
Her eyes kept getting wider. “Charles, what are you talking about?”
“On the first night,” he said. He tossed his shirt on top of his coat, and kicked off his shoes. “Our first night. We were together…and I…”
Inside her. He was inside Sandra Dane. No dream could possibly have prepared him for how it would feel. She was so soft, and he was so hard, and they were a perfect fit. He could still taste her. His face was pressed against the smooth skin of her throat, her legs were curled around his waist, and he was so close to orgasm he could feel it in his goddamn teeth. Not yet. Oh God, not yet. He never wanted this to be over.
“Please,” he begged her, “hold still, help me. Please.”
“I was inside you,” he said through his teeth. “For the first time. I asked you to hold still and you wouldn’t even fucking do that.”
Sandra blinked in confusion, and then realization filled her eyes. Charles couldn’t tell if he felt more vindicated or humiliated.
“I’ve had so much,” she purred in his ear, and even the sound of her voice was enough to drive him mad. He felt her fingernails through his shirt as she dragged them over his back. He clawed at the bedcovers. How could he resist her? She had to help him. Surely she would help him. “It’s your turn.”
And she began to squeeze him, to clench, hot and wet and tight…
“Oh no,” Sandra whispered. She went chalk white. “I didn’t mean to—I didn’t know.”
She wrapped her arms around herself. The horror on her face killed his righteous indignation. Oh, hell. Their first time was becoming something twisted, something cruel in her memory, right before his eyes. Now that her hand wasn’t on his cock, he was able to think straight enough to realize what he’d done.
“I’m sorry, Charles,” she said. “I’m so sorry. I…”
Shit. “No. Stop,” he said. He touched her shoulder. “It wasn’t like that. It was perfect, Sandra.” He stroked her face, cupped her cheek. “Our first time was perfect.” He gritted his teeth. Even now this was a little difficult to admit. “I’d never come so hard in my life. All I knew was that I wanted to do it again.”
She licked her lips again. “But you asked, and I…I didn’t give.” She looked absolutely shattered. “It was our first time and everything. No wonder you don’t believe me.”
There weren’t enough curse words in the world. Nevertheless, Charles aimed a choice few at himself as he reached for her.
All right. Fine. It was fair to say that their first time had left its mark on him. It had certainly taught him from the word “go” that Sandra could make him do, say, and feel things he hadn’t believed were possible. She could control him with his need.
And perhaps—because she was young and beautiful and free—she would be a little careless with him. She didn’t know any better. He’d learned pretty damned fast that begging was useless, even if he’d been the kind of man to beg at all.
But she was so generous and uninhibited. And kind, fundamentally kind—how many people did he know who fit that description?
She didn’t resist as he finally pulled her into his arms. They lay down together and Charles pushed back his immediate shudder of desire. He had to think about something else for two seconds. He stroked her face, her throat, and knew that he risked nothing by what he said next, because she already knew the worst of it.
“I love you,” he said again. “I don’t know when it started, but I swear to God, by the end of that weekend I knew we had to be together. Do you remember?”
She swallowed hard and nodded.
“Our first time was perfect,” he repeated. “I couldn’t get enough of you. I still can’t. I never came so hard, until—” He stopped, winced, and braced himself.
“Until what?” Sandra whispered.
“Until you sucked me off in the car,” he said through his teeth, “after I asked you to.”
He kept looking her in the eyes, and yet again, he watched comprehension dawn on her face.
“When you realized that I was going to give you what you wanted,” she murmured. “That time.”
He remembered sitting in the backseat of his car while she drank him down, ready to howl his release if only he’d had the breath for it. “Yes.”
“And that’s why you were so upset.” Sandra’s hand wandered to touch the back of her neck. He’d grabbed her there. “You said it would lower you.”
“I was…” He couldn’t say wrong, because he hadn’t been wrong. “Afraid.” He swallowed. “Maybe I should have been, because I seem to like lowering myself for you.”
Finally, the remorse in her eyes began to fade. For the first time, she looked a little hopeful. Charles exhaled in relief. She said, “You do? I mean, I thought you were enjoying yourself. You were, um…” She glanced down between their bodies. Her eyes widened. “Oh. Wow.”
“You’re inspiring,” Charles said dryly. “Don’t worry about that.”
“I really am sorry,” she whispered.
“Stop. Stop.” He couldn’t hear that again. “For fuck’s sake, we’re here because I’m a selfish asshole, not you. I wouldn’t change anything about that night. I’d do every second of it all over again.”
Sandra blinked slowly at him. Between the dip and rise of her eyelashes, he watched her get an idea. “Huh,” she said. “Would you?”
All his senses went on high alert. “Yes,” he said cautiously.
After another contemplative moment, Sandra propped herself up on one elbow and looked down at him. Her red hair tumbled over her shoulders. He nearly groaned at the sight of her, the near-instantaneous transformation from woman into succubus. How did she do it?
“You are very selfish,” she said. “Incredibly. And I’m not.”
“All true,” he admitted.
“So,” she said. “We’re going to play that game I really like. I’ll make everything up to you.” She dragged a fingertip down his bare chest.
“Game?” Charles said hoarsely. “What game?”
“Oh, you know it,” Sandra said. “It’s one of my favorites. I call it, ‘just a little.’”
His eyes widened. She gave him a slow, soft smile.
Oh, fuck.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
She hadn’t known. She really hadn’t known. Had she?
Okay. Maybe, Sandra thought as she watched Charles undress, maybe she’d had a suspicion. Sort of. She hadn’t been thinking clearly right then, but when the great and
mighty Charles Magister had been up to his balls in her and begging her to go easy on him, maybe she’d enjoyed the power shift a little. And then she’d forgotten all about it. So much had happened between now and then.
But it had clearly made a hell of an impression on him. He regretted telling her about it, that was obvious, but now that the shock was over, she’d rather know than not know. Otherwise she would have kept on tearing her hair out and wondering what his baggage was. At least if she was the baggage, she had a hope of doing something about it.
She swallowed down another surge of remorse. Our first time was perfect. She’d always thought so. If he did too, then there was no reason to ruin the memory. Assuming he really did, assuming he meant that and wasn’t just trying to make her feel better.
Stop. This wasn’t the time. Sandra had to focus. That was all in the past, and right now, they needed to settle the future. Charles had been cooperative so far—mostly—and it was time to hold up her end of the bargain. She had to prove that if he asked for what he needed, she’d do her best to give it, and she had to remind him that he couldn’t push her around or take anything worthwhile by force.
She took a deep breath and tried to get back into character. Apparently he liked Queen Sandra even more than she’d thought. So did she. How could she not love the idea of Charles as her subject, kneeling at her feet and ready to humble himself for her pleasure?
Charles kicked his pants off and eased out of his boxers. Now they were both naked, except for a couple of things. Sandra reached up to one of her earrings and began to unfasten it.
“It’s sexy when a woman wears jewelry and nothing else,” Charles said.
“Is it?” Sandra asked. “That’s good to know. I’ll leave on the bracelet.” She took off the earring and carefully placed it on the nightstand.
“Oh, come on,” he said, reaching toward her.
She slapped his hand away. He blinked.
“I don’t want your jewelry,” she said, “and I don’t want you to touch me, you selfish asshole.”
His eyes widened. She removed the other earring. She couldn’t believe her hands weren’t shaking, or her voice, for that matter. Maybe she was getting used to this.