“So how exactly does a mere mortal like me make love to a Priestess like you?”
Laughing softly, she cupped his face and brushed her thumb over his lips. “The same way you’d make love to a mortal woman, because that’s all I am, Jackson. This is Diana here with you now, not the Priestess. We’re not playing a scene right now.”
“Aren’t you a Mistress in bed too? Or is that a stupid question?”
“Of course I’m still Mistress in bed, but this isn’t a scene. I don’t have any expectations that either you or I have to meet right now, other than making sure you have a really nice send-off from Minnesota.”
“Minnesota nice.” He laughed and then his eyes flickered with shock.
“What is it?”
“I can’t remember the last time I laughed.”
“Well, get used to it, Angel. I’m a laugh a minute.”
The stunned look in his eyes didn’t go away. In fact, he looked more shaken and solemn by the second. He hadn’t been living for a long time, slowly killing himself with drugs and work. According to him, he hadn’t even been with a woman in ages. Now a Mistress had rocked his world and everything he knew had crashed and burned. No wonder he was shaken up. However, the protective side of her Mistress wanted to be sure she wasn’t setting him up for an even bigger fall. She’d provided something he’d never had before. It was natural for him to suddenly feel an intense devotion to her. Years of experience had taught her that a sub’s dedication to his first Mistress was formative and potentially life changing. If she didn’t help him manage the intensity of his new submissive feelings, it could actually be damaging, both to him and to their relationship.
Which again, they didn’t have, because they might never see each other again.
She lay back flat on the mattress and turned her attention to her blouse. By the time the third button popped open, his attention was locked on her, solid and steady. Not drowning in regrets for the past or worries for the nonexistent future.
He lightly traced the tips of his fingers over the tattoos on her throat and the swells of her breasts above the latex bustier. “So gorgeous.”
“The tats? Or the tits?”
Another laugh jolted out of him. “Both.”
“You haven’t even kissed me yet, Angel.” She didn’t try for a pout—that wasn’t her style. But she moistened her lips with her tongue and lowered her lashes, giving him a playful look. Play, fun, lighthearted sex between strangers without expectations. That’s what she was shooting for. If she could keep it from going heavy and intense again.
“I’m afraid if I try to kiss you, your goddess will strike me down for despoiling her priestess.” Though he did move closer and lean down over her. She smoothed her palms over his chest and shoulders, finally cupping the back of his head with one hand and drawing him down toward her.
“I’m the goddess. Didn’t you know that?”
His lips curved against hers. “Absolutely.”
He brushed his mouth against hers, still light and hesitant, his eyes wide open. The shining blue was too much. Too intense, too fragile. It made her want to twist her fingers in the short hairs at his nape and drag him beneath her. Her own need roared to the forefront. Long months of work and no play—in many ways, she was no better than him, except her drug of choice was caffeine. She couldn’t help but remember the raw, vulnerable look in his eyes as she’d brought him closer and closer to the edge, the way he’d finally quivered as tremors of agonizing pleasure shook his body.
“Condom,” she growled out, making his eyes flare.
Immediately, he pushed up out of bed to grab a packet from the bedside table. She unbuttoned the plaid skirt and lifted her hips up enough to shimmy the material down off her legs, including the sexy strip of panties she’d selected. Impatient with desire, she almost left the bustier on, but she caught the way he looked at her, those stunning eyes slowly moving over her body as if he’d suddenly been given a priceless artifact. So she made herself slow down. Sitting up, she turned slightly, showing him her back. “Can you unhook it for me?”
Reverently, he sat on the edge of the bed and lightly trailed his fingers over her shoulders to the hooks. Just that small act of removing her bra as she’d asked made his breath come faster; whether it was the small act of service, or just touching her, she wasn’t sure.
Lying back on the mattress, she watched the way he looked at her, his gaze trailing over her full breasts, down her stomach, the length of her legs, and back up to her pussy. Deliberately, she opened her thighs, giving him a good look. Poor Jackson actually gulped.
With his looks, he’d certainly had his share of women, even if it’d been a while. So that stunned look of awe on his face was all for her. Rightfully so because she had a larger-than-normal clit. If a man couldn’t find her clitoris, then he was a fucking idiot and not worth her time because when she became aroused, that sensitive organ swelled and distended enough to make a noticeable bump in her panties. It might have been nearly two hours ago when she’d whipped him to climax for the first time, but the sweet ache spread through her pelvis as if he’d been eating her out for hours.
She waited to see if that awe turned to lust or reluctance. The last thing she wanted to do was freak him out.
With his gaze locked between her legs, he slowly leaned down and let out a shaking groan as he wrapped his lips around her clit. Sucking in a harsh breath, she reached down and stroked her fingers through the golden fall of his hair. He sucked gently, a torment that made her want to fist her hands in his hair and pull him in hard enough to smash his face against her. But she refrained, so she could get an idea of both his skill and his natural inclinations.
Flattening his tongue against her, he licked back and forth across her hot flesh, bumping up against her clit only to retreat and stroke the rest of her flesh. In seconds, he had her on the quivering edge of a climax. Granted, it’d been a long time for her too, but he definitely knew how to pleasure a woman. He glanced up at her face, trying to gauge whether she wanted him to linger and drag her pleasure out, or to push her over the edge. She tightened her fingers in his hair and lifted her hips, rubbing against his mouth until she came. Just when the tremors started to ease, he found her clit again and held it in his mouth, tightening his teeth gently until a cry wrenched out of her.
Panting, she released him so he could rise up. His eyes blazed and his fingers trembled enough that he finally had to drag his gaze away from her to make sure he was getting the condom on correctly. Yet he was still the consummate gentleman. He was still holding on to himself, keeping himself in control instead of just letting loose and trusting her to rein him in.
If she wasn’t careful, he was the kind of man who’d slip into sex by rote. Lilly had told her about his glory days in college. I’ll never be just another body to any man. Let alone this Angel.
“Listen good, Jackson.” Her hard tone made his eyes flare and he jerked his gaze back up to her face. “When you slide into me, I don’t want a gentleman. I want you hammering into me, as hard and rough as you’ve ever fucked a woman in your life. Got it?”
Jackson lived in a world where everything was highly civilized. There were rules and customs, even if he was going to fuck someone over on a contract or in a courtroom. He wore the best suits, stayed in the finest hotels, worked for the richest clients, and never let anyone see him sweat. Even when shit started hitting the fan, he pretended that’s exactly what he wanted and played the game like a gentleman.
The very thing she told him she didn’t want.
His first instinct was denial. Of course he was a gentleman. There wasn’t anything inside him that wasn’t civilized and rational.
She let out a husky laugh, her voice like raw silk and whiskey. “Do you need me to get the paddle and remind you of exactly how ungentlemanly you can be?”
The fact that he almost nodded just about
made his knees fold up and drop him like a sack of potatoes on the floor. He’d never in a million years thought he’d enjoy a woman beating his ass. Let alone ask her to do it again. But she was right—while he’d been braced over the toilet and the blows had slammed into his flesh, the last thing on his mind had been making sure he kept up the facade.
“Come on, Angel,” she purred, arching her back to lift those glorious breasts in temptation. “Show me how dirty and fallen you really are. Show me your dark side.”
It didn’t feel like he was the one who dropped on top of her and sheathed himself deep in her body on one hard lunge. It was almost like an out-of-body experience. He was here, but it wasn’t him. It couldn’t be. He wouldn’t thrust so hard he grunted with each satisfying thud into her body. He wouldn’t drive his hips so hard they both slid around on the bed fighting for purchase. He certainly wouldn’t have such rough, careless sex with a woman he barely even knew.
Lies, all of them. He’d had plenty of sex with women he barely knew years ago. Before he’d stopped living.
He’d just never enjoyed it quite as much as this.
It was as if she’d unchained something dark and ugly inside of him. Something he hadn’t even known was there. Only she didn’t find it ugly. In fact, she reveled in his harsh thrusts and urged him onward.
“That’s so good, so good. Pound me good and hard, Angel. I love the way you feel so deep inside me. Make me come again. Make me come so hard my pussy will try and break your dick inside me.”
She kneaded his sore buttocks, hauling him deeper into her. Those long, glorious legs wrapped around his waist. He kept his eyes open, watching the way she moved beneath him. The tattoos around her throat glinted in the low lamplight, dragons writhing across her skin. Suddenly, the orgasm was there, ready to explode and tear him apart. He tried to throw himself back from the edge, afraid she wasn’t ready yet, but she dug her nails into his ass.
“Don’t you dare,” she growled. “No holding back.”
Boulders tumbled down and crushed him. That’s what it felt like. He felt bruised and possibly broken inside. Certainly unable to move. He tried to lift his head, or at least shift his weight off her, but she wrapped her arms tighter and refused to let him move.
“Shhh,” she whispered in his ear, using her whole body to hold him. “You don’t have to be the gentleman with me.”
“I’m heavy,” he mumbled. “Sweaty. I—”
“Jackson Montgomery Warring…” Her warning tone forced his eyes open and he managed to lift his head enough to look into her face. She smiled broadly and leaned up to brush her lips against his. “I love a man’s weight on me. I especially love to feel him inside me, even soft, and wonder how long it’ll be before I can get him hard again.”
She laughed at the way his eyes flared with surprise. Surely not. Not after the pleasure she’d already wrung out of him. He could barely lift his head, let alone get it up yet again.
When his dick pulsed and twitched inside her, she laughed.
“Guess I won’t have to wait too long.”
Jackson stared out the window watching the sunrise while her shower ran. Absently, he flipped through his text messages. Over a hundred from his secretary alone, each increasingly frantic. Where are you? What do you want me to do? Everyone’s looking for you. Ellen is about to flip a table.
As far as secretaries went, Ann was the best in the office, but more, she was his friend. They’d been together at the firm since the beginning. So he felt badly that he’d left her out of the loop all weekend. She knew his preferences better than his own mother, texting instead of calling to leave a message, because he hated having to take the time to stop and listen to all the polite introductions.
Of course Ellen Montgomery wasn’t one for social niceties. Her voice mail was short and to the point. “I don’t care where you are or what you’re doing, but get your ass on the next plane back to Chicago. Love you.”
They both knew him well enough to know he wasn’t injured or hurt somewhere. Bad news always traveled quicker than anything else, so silence meant he was okay. Ann knew his schedule by heart because she managed it. She knew he’d gotten off the plane in St. Paul and successfully met with Donovan. She also knew his long friendship with him. So it probably wasn’t a surprise to her that he’d dropped off the radar. But the voice message from Ellen was unusual. She’d probably only called him directly two or three times in their whole career together. She was worried enough to say “love you”. That was definitely out of character for his mother. Not her love—he knew she loved him. But that she had felt the need to tell him. Something bad was going down and she needed him there. Immediately.
He sighed and texted Ann. Get me on the next plane out of MSP.
Within seconds, she replied back, even though it was bright and early Sunday morning. Done. Are you OK?
He smiled. Most people would have used shorthand text abbreviations, but not Ann. She couldn’t stand poor grammar or spelling. Fine. Sorry if I worried you.
You met someone.
His smile deepened. He never could pull anything over on her. You’ll like her.
Then he put the phone away to let Ann stew in her own curiosity.
By the time Diana came in still towel-drying her hair, he’d slapped his full armor back on, the suit freshly cleaned and pressed. All that remained was his tie, currently draped around his neck but not tied. As soon as she walked in, his fingers seemed to forget how to make the knot, even though he’d been doing his own tie as long as he could remember.
Barefoot, she was still as tall as him. Her hair glimmered in the morning sun, softer and slightly wavy. She’d had enough foresight to bring a change of clothes—faded, worn jeans and a sweatshirt that sadly covered up all the colorful ink. She had that freshly scrubbed look that he found more beautiful than the made-up costume of last night. This was the real her. Or at least a glimpse of her. What she wore on a day-to-day basis. It only piqued his interest even more. He wanted to see where she lived. Watch her at work at her shop. He burned to know what made her laugh, what television shows she watched, her favorite movies. Everything.
She reached up to work on his tie, so he tipped his head back to make it easier for her.
“I’ll miss that schoolgirl skirt.” His voice sounded funny, so he cleared his throat. He would miss everything about her. Even the way she’d slammed that paddle onto his flesh last night. Just thinking about it made him more aware of his bruised buttocks rubbing against the material of his pants. The tight, tender skin. The way she’d kneaded those sore muscles while he was inside her, driving him into a frenzy.
“I’ve got lots of goodies like that in my closet. Even a nun’s costume.” She chuckled at the look that flickered across his face. “I’m the Priestess after all. Back when we used to throw monthly parties, I had to look the part.”
“Why did the parties stop?”
She straightened the knot and tucked his collar down. “Many reasons.” Smiling, she smoothed her palms over his chest, her eyes gleaming with mystery. That light challenged him to delve deeper, as if she was going to make him work for any information. If he ever saw her again. “When’s your flight?”
If. His throat tightened and he fought the instinct to drag her against him and hold her tightly, swearing he wouldn’t go. Nothing could tear him away from her. It was ridiculous and embarrassing. After only one night, she had him wrapped around her pinky. To distract himself before he could swear undying devotion and declare himself the biggest fool in the world, he pulled out his phone to check his texts from Ann. “8:05 a.m.”
“Whew. Do you have any idea how rare it is for me to be up this early on a Sunday? Let alone face the traffic at the airport. I wouldn’t wish that on my greatest enemy.”
A new text from Ann. Your car is waiting downstairs.
He’d never told her where he was stayi
ng, but Ann wouldn’t have let that stop her. It wouldn’t surprise him if she’d had his phone tracked down, though she’d probably just contacted Donovan. “I know you said I could drive your car to the airport, but this early, I’d rather not risk it. We haven’t even had caffeine yet and I haven’t driven in years. The firm already sent a car to pick me up.”
“Will you make it in time? That’s less than an hour. It takes me that long just to get through security.”
He smiled faintly. “Wealth has its privileges.”
“Of course.” She smoothed her hands up over his shoulders and took a step closer. Suddenly they were sharing the same air, just inches apart, and his entire body went on alert. “Don’t forget your promise to get help once you’re home.”
Keeping his eyes locked on hers, he nodded. “I was seeing someone a couple of years ago. Just fell off the wagon a little.”
“You know what a promise to a woman like me means, right?”
His mouth twitched toward a smile, but he couldn’t help but tense his buttocks. Oh yeah, he knew exactly what she’d do to him if he broke a promise to her. “Yes, Priestess.”
“Good.” She pressed her mouth to his in a leisurely exploration that made his heart pound. He clutched her closer, opening his mouth and tangling his tongue with hers. God, it’d been so long since he’d even kissed a woman. He wanted to lie for hours and kiss her softly, slowly, drifting in and out of sleep, with nowhere to go and no demands on his time. No, not hours. Days. Somewhere warm, like a beach. Or a mountain cabin with a fireplace. Somewhere he could strip her down and lick every tattoo.
Impossible. He couldn’t manage a reasonable workweek. Let alone skip out for days at a time just to go on vacation. Ellen was probably going to take a piece of his hide after this weekend, even though he’d been here on business to start. He couldn’t even claim a solitary weekend, let alone the days he’d want to seriously explore this woman in his arms.
The Billionaire's Ink Mistress: Billionaires in Bondage, Book 2 Page 7