Bound to Seduction

by Elisabeth Naughton

  “Where are we?” she asked

  “A little island in the Tahitian chain.”

  “No way.”

  “Close your eyes again, Mira.”

  This time she looked at him as if he’d grown a third eye, and the expression was so damn sexy, he laughed. “Trust me. No more flying. Not yet, anyway.”

  “I don’t know what to expect around you,” she said, but she closed her eyes once more.

  “And I with you, Mira.”

  He lifted his hands, called up a simple spell. Then he turned a slow circle and spoke the ancient words.

  When he was done, he said, “Okay, you can open your eyes again.”

  Her lashes fluttered, and she looked down, gasped to see herself dressed in a thin white cotton dress with cap sleeves, a gathered bodice with ties open at her cleavage, and a flouncy skirt. A dress that accentuated her breasts, her curves, even her skin tone. One that looked as if it had been made just for her—which it had.

  “How did you do that?”

  “Magic.”

  Her gaze darted past him to the hut he’d also conjured. “Wh-where did that come from?”

  He would never tire of this woman’s reactions. So unexpected. So…honest. He reached for her hand. “Come.”

  She let him draw her toward the hut with its thatched roof and bamboo porch. Gleaming hardwood floors spread beneath their bare feet. Gauzy curtains blew in the breeze as they stepped inside. A sitting area filled with pillowy white furnishings opened to a four-poster bed covered in dreamy white netting.

  Mira tensed beside him. Perspiration coated the palm of her hand against his. And for the first time, unease settled in. Unease he never felt. Not with anyone. “Do you not like it?”

  “No, I…” Her cheeks turned pink as she looked around. “It’s beautiful. I just…”

  She was nervous. Again, not the reaction he was used to.

  He stepped in front of her, blocking her view of the bed, and brought his hands up to frame her face. “Before we start your wish, I have one request.”

  “What?”

  “For you to trust me. In order to give pleasure, you must first experience it yourself. Has a man ever pleasured you, Mira?”

  A flush rushed over her cheeks again, and she looked down at his chest covered in the thin T-shirt. “I told you I’m not a virgin.”

  “I didn’t ask if you were a virgin. I asked if you had been pleasured. Thoroughly. Completely. By someone who knows how to focus solely on you.”

  Her blush deepened. “Um…”

  Just the fact she had to think about how to answer told him no. At least not in the way he meant. He tilted her face up to his, forcing her to meet his gaze. “Then let me.”

  “That’s not part of my wish,” she whispered.

  “No. It’s mine.”

  Her eyes darkened. And in their depths he could see that his words relaxed her. Excited her. Aroused her. But she was still hesitant.

  He needed to do something to ease her stress.

  He slid his hands down to hers, clasped her fingers, and drew her around, walking backward out onto the porch again. She followed, her brows drawn low, questions swirling in her glittering eyes. “I thought—”

  “There is no rush. Only time. Only this. Turn around.”

  Hesitation swirled in her eyes, but she turned to face the double chaise that appeared on the porch. “What’s this for?”

  “For you.” He muttered words in his language, and the chaise dropped flat, the thick, plush cushion smoothing out before her. “Lie down on your stomach.”

  She looked over her shoulder with are you for real? eyes. Eyes that brought a smile to his lips and warmed the chill deep in his chest. “I promise, nothing will happen that you do not want to happen. Lie down and let me rub the tension from your shoulders.”

  She hesitated, then finally climbed onto the chaise and stretched out. He handed her a throw pillow, which she tucked under her head and wrapped her arms around. “You don’t have to massage me.”

  “Shh,” he said as he smoothed the back of her dress across her hamstrings. “Just enjoy.”

  She drew in a breath, let it out, relaxed into the cushion. He moved around the front of the chaise, knelt down, and brushed her hair to the side, then began kneading the muscles of her shoulders.

  She exhaled a long breath, relaxed even further, and as he felt the tension begin to ease, he moved his hands over the back of her dress, down to her waist, and up again, never touching her bare skin, never pushing her farther than she wanted.

  “Do you like that?” He trailed his hands up her spine, pressed fingers into the muscle as he worked his way down to her lower back.

  “Too much. You have magic hands.”

  He moved to her ribs, slid his hands up her sides, felt her suck in a breath when his fingertips barely brushed the outsides of her breasts.

  She was soft where a woman should be soft, firm where she should be firm, and as his gaze strayed to the hem of her dress, resting just above the backs of her knees, he had a wicked, erotic flash of dragging the skirt up with his teeth, of massaging the soft, rounded globes of her backside, of lifting her hips and sinking into her from behind.

  Blood rushed to his cock, hardening him with only the thought. It had been years since he’d wanted a female as much as he wanted this one. He’d lost his desire when he’d lost his freedom. But with her, here, now, he felt as if he was regaining a tiny piece of himself.

  She pushed on her hands, straightened her arms and looked up at him. His fingers stilled against her upper back as he gazed down at her face. The warm breeze ruffled her hair against her cheeks, and the way the sunlight fell across her skin, she almost sparkled. Want and need and desire swirled in her eyes. The combination left him hard and achy. And though he knew for her this was merely a wish, for him it was so much more.

  “Roll over,” he said in a raspy voice.

  Her gaze held his, then slowly she complied and rolled onto her back.

  Light hair fanned out beneath her. Her breasts pressed against the thin cotton of her dress, her nipples visibly hardening in the slight breeze. He swallowed pushed to his feet, and moved around the chaise to sit at her side, his hip brushing hers, his gaze running down the length of her body. “Close your eyes again.”

  She breathed deep and did as he said. At her sides, her fingers grasped the edge of the cushion.

  He started gently, running the tips of his fingers along her bare arms, down and back up again, watching the slight rise and fall of her chest as she breathed. Watching the muscles around her eyes tighten as he traced his way up to her throat, then back down, moving over her dress to her legs, then all the way to her feet and back. As his hands stroked her body, she relaxed inch by inch once more, easing deeper into the cushion, turning herself over to him one wicked touch at a time.

  His gaze slid to her lips as he stroked her—plump, pink, so perfectly made for kissing—then to her collarbone, over the Firebrand opal at her chest, just like the one he wore but which she couldn’t see in this realm, then finally down to the front ties of her dress, hanging against her creamy cleavage.

  He wanted to know what she looked like beneath that dress he’d conjured. What she felt like, her skin against his. When he brushed his fingers against the base of her neck then lower, stopping on the ties and pulling until her bodice loosened, she sucked in a breath and held it but didn’t push him away.

  Her breaths quickened. She wasn’t wearing a bra, and he watched in rapt attention as her lush, firm breasts were slowly revealed to him, one agonizing inch at a time.

  He went slow. Gave her every opportunity to stop him. But she didn’t. And by Allah, she was beautiful. Dusky pink areolas, so tantalizing he wanted to lower his head and draw each one into his mouth. Firm, high breasts he knew would fit perfectly in his hands. He had an overwhelming urge to rip the dress from her skin, to part her thighs and press inside her until they both cried out in ecstasy. But more th
an that, he wanted her to want him. As much as he suddenly wanted her.

  He leaned forward, marveled at the way her body trembled when he pressed his lips against her collarbone. When he kissed the soft skin of her throat and trailed his mouth up to breathe hot against her earlobe.

  “Tell me what you want, Mira. I’m yours to command.” Her skin was silky soft, so damn sweet against his tongue. “Yours to use in any way you want. This is all about you.”

  Slowly, hesitantly, Mira’s fingers slid into his hair, and she moaned as she tipped her head to the side, granting him access, showing him the first sign that yes, she wanted this too.

  Desire bunched in his stomach, shot straight into his groin. He licked the tender column of her neck, latched on, and suckled.

  She moaned when he found an extra sensitive spot. And, drawing one leg up, she pressed her naked breasts against his bare chest, rubbing herself against him in a way that was so sinfully erotic, he didn’t know how much longer he could last.

  “Tell me, Mira,” he whispered.

  “I—I want you to kiss me,” she whispered.

  Yes. Finally. “Where?”

  “My—my throat.”

  Disappointment flowed that it wasn’t her mouth, but he moved to the other side, breathed hot against her skin until she shuddered, then closed his lips around the column of her throat once more. She’d beg for his mouth on hers later. He’d make sure of it.

  “Where else?” he asked against her skin.

  “My ear.” He trailed his lips up to her lobe, felt her shudder beneath him, loved the way her naked breasts pressed into his chest.

  “My collarbone,” she added before he was done. One corner of his lips curled at her enthusiasm, and he answered by licking the spot, swirling his tongue around a mole, then sliding lower to trace his tongue along the very top of her cleavage.

  Heat gathered all along her skin, penetrated his and amped his desire to a full-blown inferno. “Where else?”

  “My…my breasts.”

  He breathed hot against her right nipple. She trembled, moaned, arched her back, and closed her eyes, and as her breast came closer to his mouth, he groaned himself, then licked at the tip and finally drew her into his mouth.

  “Oh God,” she muttered. Her updrawn knee pressed against his side. The hem of her dress fell to her hip, exposing her long, toned thigh, dragging his attention from what he was doing.

  He wanted his mouth there. Wanted to brush her skin from hip to mound. To trace the line of her sex with his tongue and stroke her deeply until she came in his mouth.

  His heart beat fast and hard as he moved to her other breast, as her fingers tightened in his hair, as she arched and offered more of her luscious body to him. Her nipple hardened in his mouth, and she groaned in pure pleasure. He answered by circling the tip with his tongue and asking, “What else?”

  “Touch me,” she said. “I want you to touch me.”

  “Where?” He scraped his teeth across her nipple ever so slightly. “Tell me where.”

  “Oh…” Her whole body shook. She lifted her hips, lowered them. Aching, he knew, for his touch between her thighs. And he wanted to give it to her. That and so much more.

  “Tell me, Mira.” He sucked harder on her breast, drew a long, shuddering groan from her throat.

  How on earth did this woman think she was not desirable? Her reactions alone had him lingering on the edge of control. There was passion inside her long denied and dying to be set free. A passion he was bound to corrupt with his wicked, lascivious ways.

  His arousal began to dim, but he forced the thought away. Today was not about guilt. It was about pleasure. About making her feel good. The corruption…what it would do to her…what it would do to him…he’d worry about that later.

  He brushed his fingertips across her updrawn knee and licked her nipple again. “Tell me, Mira. Should I touch you here?”

  Her knee fell open. “Yes. God, yes.”

  He skimmed his fingers up her thigh, to the hem of her gown resting against her hip, just barely covering her sex, and breathed heavily against her naked breast as he looked down her body. “Here?”

  “Yes, yes.”

  “Tell me,” he whispered, feathering his touch along her inner thigh. “Tell me where.”

  She groaned in frustration, lifted her leg higher, and as she did, her dress fell against her mound. He drew in a breath as her white, cotton panties came into view. Even through the thin fabric he could tell she was swollen. Hot. Wet. And he groaned himself because now he knew for sure she wanted him. Wanted him with the same burning desire that was consuming him.

  He looked back at her face. Her eyes were tightly closed, but her lips parted in pleasure as he traced his fingers down her inner thigh, stopped short of touching her overheated flesh, then back up again. “Tell me, Mira.”

  “I want you to touch me between my legs,” she managed, a flush rushing over her cheeks with her words. “I want you to touch me everywhere. Anywhere.” She lifted her hips closer to his hand. “I want you to make me come. Right now.”

  Yes, yes. Finally, yes.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Mira barely believed the words spilling from her mouth.

  But she didn’t stop them. She was too swept up in some all-consuming desire she couldn’t remember feeling before. Not for her ex-boyfriends. Not even for Devin.

  It had to be the magical effects of the opal. That was the only thing that made sense. The heat from the stone burned against her chest, warming her skin. But she really didn’t care how or why it was happening. All she could focus on was the sinfully erotic way Tariq’s fingers were finally—finally—skimming her sex, sliding beneath her panties and into her wetness, then back up again to circle her clit and drag a moan from her throat.

  She wanted to pry open her eyes, to see if he was watching her reaction, but she was almost afraid to look. Because if she didn’t see desire in his eyes…if this was only duty…

  The heat began to dim, the arousal dampen. He’d said he wanted her, but that could just be a line. Like the guy who pretended to have a good time on a first date, promised to call, and then never did.

  This is not a date.

  “Stay with me, Mira.” Tariq’s husky voice cut through her musings, pulled her back from the edge. “Lift up.”

  Eyes clenched tightly closed, she lifted her hips. Sucked in a breath as he dragged her panties down her thighs.

  “Open your eyes and look at me, Mira. Look at me pleasuring you.”

  The erotic vision his words conjured sent heat careening through her veins once more, and she blinked in the sunshine and looked down her body, only to experience that rush of heat all over again when his fingers brushed her sex.

  Lust darkened his eyes. Sweat glistened on his brow. And the way he was watching her—as if he wanted to taste her right where he was touching her—made her whole body tremble.

  He palmed her breast with one hand, slid one finger of his other hand lower, inside, and she tightened around him as he knelt on the ground between her legs, as he slid his finger out, then back in deeper, as the warmth of his breath rushed over her clit.

  “Do you want me to taste you, Mira? Do you want my mouth here?”

  He nuzzled her sex, and she was so caught up in the lust, she couldn’t look away even if she wanted to. She pushed up to her elbows, marveled at his dark head between her thighs, tightened around his fingers as he pressed back in with two. “Yes. Yes, I want that.”

  He lowered his head, laved his tongue along her clit, circled and swirled as he thrust in and out with his fingers, drawing her closer to oblivion. She groaned, dropped her head back, lifted her hips so he could stroke her deeper, so he could taste more of her. His fingers were thick, his tongue wet and so damn salacious flicking her most sensitive spot. Her climax raced closer. She wanted to delay it, wanted to prolong the pleasure but knew she wouldn’t be able to. This whole day was more erotic than anything she’d experienced in her
whole life.

  “Come for me, Mira. Come in my mouth. Let me taste your release.”

  Electricity gathered in her pelvis and exploded in a burst of lightning, lancing through her limbs to steal her breath. Every muscle in her body spasmed as the orgasm hit. Her elbows went out from under her. White-hot ecstasy consumed every part of her.

  Her back landed against the chaise. She spiraled through an abyss of sensations, then slowly sound returned, followed by the warmth of the sun against her skin, the brush of the warm breeze, the feel of Tariq, whispering hot words against her sex she didn’t understand. He smoothed his fingers through her wetness, bringing her down slowly, pressing his lips to her hip, her lower belly, her breasts all over again.

  Her chest rose and fell as she tried to suck air. Stars fired off behind her closed eyelids. She blinked several times, finally pulled her eyes open, and stared up at the thatched roof above.

  Tariq moved up her body and into her line of sight. She looked into his dark eyes, saw satisfaction and heat. A heat that reignited a burning passion she thought he’d quenched.

  She lifted her hand, brushed it across his rough cheek and, before she thought better of it, lifted and pressed her mouth to his.

  This time, he drew in a surprised breath, and she wondered if she wasn’t supposed to kiss him, if it was against the rules. Then he opened for her, groaned into her mouth, and whatever worry she’d had fled. He wrapped his arms around her, pressed his body into hers and stroked her tongue deeply, roughly, as if he’d been wanting to kiss her from the start. As if he couldn’t get enough and didn’t want to let her go.

  Her fingers rushed up into his hair, fisted. Her mouth turned greedy against his. She opened her legs, felt his erection press against her already overheated sex, and couldn’t wait to feel him inside her.

  That—what he’d done for her…the way he’d pleasured her—had been amazing. No, not amazing, electric, incredible, like nothing she’d ever experienced. He knew exactly where to touch a woman and what to say to make her come apart. But it wasn’t enough. She wanted more. She wanted all of him.