Anew: Book Two: Hunted

by Litton, Josie

  When our glasses are refilled, he moves closer and slowly strokes a finger along the curve of my cheek. “You are so beautiful,” he murmurs. “Sometimes all I want to do is look at you.”

  That’s nice but I have the distinct impression that now is not one of those times. Nervously, I take another sip of champagne and try to decipher his mood.

  “What happened at the Council meeting?” I ask. That seems to be the origin of whatever it is that’s driving him. He was different when he came back from there.

  He lifts an eyebrow at my return to a topic so out of keeping with our sensual surroundings. “I told you, nothing. It was for show.”

  “But you’re no longer as concerned about Davos as you were.”

  Something flickers behind his eyes, a hint of uncertainty? It’s gone too quickly for me to be sure. “I’ll deal with him in my own time. But now it’s Carnival and all I’m interested in is you.”

  A tremor of excitement runs through me. I have some experience with what it means to be the focus of Ian’s concentrated attention.

  He moves closer, his teeth lightly grazing my jaw. Incredibly after the orgasm I experienced in the elevator, my body clenches. My need for him is becoming insatiable.

  Softly, he says, “I’d like you to do something for me.”

  I look up at him through my lashes. The brooding hunger in his gaze exerts a dark pull on my own libido. “What’s that?”

  “Undress.”

  My cheeks flame, an absurd reaction given that he has seen and touched every inch of me. But I’ve never before deliberately, purposefully set out to tantalize him. Well, maybe a little…or more… But never like this, when I can’t grasp what is driving him.

  “You have a beautiful body,” he says. “I enjoy seeing it revealed.”

  I can’t help thinking that he got an eyeful in the elevator. But neither can I deny the challenge implicit in his tone--at once sensuous and slightly mocking. With a start, I realize that he’s daring me to do this.

  Two can play this game. I swallow the rest of my champagne, welcoming even the false courage it brings, and say, “On one condition.”

  He arches an eyebrow. “What’s that?”

  “You can look but you can’t touch.” I’m not entirely certain why I want this but it gives me at least some semblance of control and that feels important under the circumstances.

  “Are you sure that’s what you want?” He looks at once surprised and chagrinned, which only strengthens my resolve.

  “Until I say otherwise. Agreed?”

  Slowly, not taking his eyes from me, Ian nods. “Agreed.” He walks over to one of the chairs near the fireplace, turns it to face me, and sits down, crossing his long legs so that the ankle of one rests on the opposite knee. A long finger strokes his upper lip lightly.

  “Whenever you’re ready,” he says with a smile.

  From beyond the French doors, I hear music. The sound is hot, sensuous, a throbbing in the blood. I remember what Ian said about the private parties being held in the city as flashes from the parade dart through my mind. Slowly, I slide off the table.

  The champagne helps but it’s the music coupled with Ian’s nearness that quells my inhibitions. I slide one strap of my gown off my shoulder, followed by the other. The fitted bodice slips a little, resting on the crest of my pebble hard nipples. My hips sway irresistibly to the beat of the music. With a start, I realize that I’m getting into this, enjoying it. Holding Ian’s gaze, I reach around to the zipper that begins inches below the dip of my waist. Slowly, I ease it down over my derriere. As I do, I turn so that my back is to him. A soft gasp escapes me. I’m facing a large mirror in a gilded frame. In it, I can see both myself and him.

  His features are taut, his eyes hooded. I have the impression that he is fighting the urge to take hold of me at once, regardless of the promise I wrung from him.

  A heady sense of my own power sweeps over me and with it comes a wave of daring. I decide that my panties, which until now have merely been pushed aside or down, deserve better appreciation. They leave the cheeks of my ass bare below a red bow that makes me look like a present waiting to be unwrapped. I chose them with Ian in mind but I definitely didn’t expect him to be seeing them quite like this. In the mirror, his hands clench. He looks as though he regrets agreeing to my terms.

  Emboldened, I let the beaded gown slide the rest of the way down my body and step out of it. I’m wearing only the thong, black fishnet thigh highs with a band of red lace at the top, the red stilettos, and my mask.

  I lift my hands to remove it but Ian stops me. “Leave it on. Take off the panties.”

  I flush but do as he says, easing them down first one leg, then the other, and step out of them. The music is growing in intensity, urging me on. When the lacy scrap has joined my gown on the floor, Ian stands and comes toward me. He stops a few feet away. Our eyes meet in the mirror.

  “I have a gift for you,” he says. “But I want to put it on you myself. That involves touching.”

  He draws an object from the pocket of his jacket but keeps it cupped in his palm. I catch the glint of gold, nothing more.

  Unable to look away from him, I nod permission.

  He opens his palm to reveal an oblong gold ring about the length of my thumb. At the top is a carving of a man’s hands. Slim black elastic bands tangle from the top and base of the ring.

  Before I can object, he moves close behind me. His long, skilled fingers splay across my abdomen and slip lower to spread the outer lips of my sex. He nestles the ring between them, nudging them further apart. A shudder runs through me at the intimacy of his touch.

  When he removes his hand, the sides of the oblong ring keep me stretched open while the center displays my delicate inner labia and clit. The weight of the cool, smooth metal there is startling. Ian reaches behind me to secure the black bands. His voice is low and roughened as he says, “Look at yourself, Amelia. See yourself as I see you.”

  I do and what I see shocks me. I am…wanton. My eyes are smoky with need, my lips are swollen, my nipples are peaked and aching for his touch. Between my legs, where his seed mingles with my own juices, the gold ring glistens. At its center, framed by it, my clit and delicate inner lips are at once bound and fully exposed.

  My first instinct is that it’s too much. I don’t want to see myself like this, an entirely carnal creature on display. But the touch of Ian’s lips along the back of my neck distracts me from any objection. Before I realize what he intends, he removes my mask so that I am fully bared to myself.

  But only for an instant. Even as I stare at the woman in the gilded mirror, Ian lowers a narrow length of red silk in front of my eyes and ties it in place. My hands fly to it as the world darkens.

  “Easy,” he says. “You’ll feel more this way.”

  More? I can’t. I won’t survive it. But it seems that I have no choice. He lifts me effortlessly and carries me across the room, settling me in a large chair that feels like the one he just occupied. He leaves me for a moment. I hear a drawer opening. When he returns he says, “I’ve wanted to see you like this from the first moment we met.”

  Oh. How is that exactly? Naked and blindfolded, intimately adorned for his pleasure…

  Oh! Something coiled and smooth wraps around my ankle. It feels like…rope? Where did that come from?

  Swiftly, before I can begin to process what is happening, Ian binds my left wrist to my left ankle and does the same on my right side. When he is done, he lifts me slightly and repositions me in the chair. His hands press against my knees, spreading me wide. My cheeks flame below the blindfold as I realize that I’m trussed up, my sex adorned and exposed to him, unable to resist in any way.

  “Ian…?” My voice is unnaturally high, made so by shock and arousal that mounts so swiftly as to be almost painful.

  “Shhhh,” he murmurs. The tip of his finger flicks my clit, swollen with need and made all the more sensitive by the weight of the gold band encaging it.


  I give a soft wail as my head falls back. I know now what he intends. I want it but… When his tongue replaces his finger, every muscle in my body jerks in response. Or tries to. Bound as I am, I can’t move. Blindfolded, my sense of touch is acutely heightened. With the ring holding me open for him, both his hands are free to roam where they will. He slides them under my ass, squeezing my cheeks as he pulls me to him. For long, torturous minutes, he keeps up a delicate assault on my clit, his tongue circling, stroking, applying less pressure, then more. At the same time, he slips a finger into the cleft of my ass and finds the small, tight opening there.

  “Ian…don’t…” My half-hearted objection turns into a gasp when he latches his mouth onto my clit and sucks hard. The contrast between the delicate torment of his tongue and this rougher, even more demanding caress is too much. I cry out helplessly as a dark, relentless wave of pleasure builds in me. An instant later it explodes with terrifying power, hurtling me into an orgasm so intense that I’m afraid I’ll lose consciousness. I don’t want to because I don’t want to miss a moment of this…whatever this is. Ian’s dominance and desire draw a response from me that I didn’t know I was capable of giving.

  But he isn’t finished, not at all. As though driven by my helplessness, he gives me no chance to recover before resuming his sweet torment. I am spiraling upward again, another terrifyingly powerful orgasm building in me when he suddenly thrusts a finger slick with my own juices into my puckered opening. The shock of that intrusion tips me over the edge. I come screaming his name as my consciousness shatters.

  When I’m next aware, I’m still in the chair and still trussed but the blindfold is off. Ian is holding me in his arms. Surrounded by the comfort of his strength, I take a ragged breath, inhaling the scent of my own body, of sex, and of him.

  “So good, baby.” He grasps my chin, raising it so that I have no choice but to meet his gaze. A hard smile curves his mouth. “You’re exhausted, aren’t you?”

  Numbly, I nod.

  He unties me, dropping feather light kisses on my ankles and wrists as each is freed. I notice absently that the rope he used is red, like my costume for Carnival. He’s planned this all out. I can only wonder what else he intends.

  When the ropes are gone, he stands easily and carries me across the room, through a set of double doors and into an immense bathroom dominated by an oversized spa tub that is already filling as we enter. As it does, Ian lowers me onto a padded bench and gently removes my shoes. The thigh highs follow, each one peeled down my leg inch by inch and over the arch of my foot. When he’s done, he straightens and quickly strips off his clothes.

  I swallow with difficulty, helpless to do anything but watch him. He looks like ancient Greek statues I’ve seen but far better endowed. His broad shoulders sweep down his long torso to narrow hips defined by the perfect V so aptly called the Adonis line. The muscles of his flat abdomen flex as he moves. Naked, he lifts me in his arms again and steps with me into the tub.

  The hot water stings at first but it quickly becomes soothing. The stiffness in my body eases. My eyes drift closed.

  “Better?” he asks. He is holding me in front of him, my back resting against his chest. As I nod, he anchors his feet around my ankles and pulls them apart, opening my legs and spreading them wide. “Just relax,” he says. “Let me take care of you.”

  My murmured response turns into a soft gasp when I realize that he’s positioned me so that a jet of water spurts against my sex, still exposed by the gold ring. He cups my breasts in his roughened palms and squeezes lightly. I shift on him, feeling his erection prodding my bottom. All thought of needing rest evaporates.

  Catching each of my engorged nipples between a thumb and forefinger, he pulls and tugs lightly. The sensation rockets straight to my groin, heightened by the pulsations of water striking my swollen, hyper-sensitive clit. Together they bring me to the edge and hold me suspended there. I try to close my legs but Ian won’t allow it. He slides a hand behind me and slips two fingers into my opening, thrusting slowly and rhythmically.

  “Your cunt fits me like a hot, tight glove,” he croons in my ear. “So wet, so good.”

  I stiffen. He’s never used that word with me before. I know that some people think nothing of it but for others it remains deeply offensive. For me, it’s simply confusing. Why here? Why now? My sense that something is wrong grows stronger but before I can focus on it, he finds the ultra sensitive spot inside me and increases the tempo of his strokes. The muscles in my belly spasm. Only Ian’s powerful body supporting mine keeps me from slumping under the water as yet another orgasm hits me.

  “I wonder how many times I can make you come,” he muses as he removes his fingers and lightly kisses the lobe of my ear. His next words send a shiver of mingled shock and excitement through me. “Let’s find out, shall we?”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Ian

  Amelia trembles in my arms. She must be wrecked or close to it but I don’t even consider stopping. Distantly, I know that something’s wrong with me. I just can’t manage to care. Nothing matters except the burning, relentless hunger for her that consumes every ounce of reason that I possess and turns it to ash. I want her, all of her, in every possible way, endlessly. Before I’m done, there won’t be a shred of doubt in her mind that she belongs utterly and irrevocably to me.

  But I meant what I said to her earlier, I take very good care of what’s mine. I don’t question my need to soothe and pamper her any more than I do my right to fuck her where, when, and how I choose. Right now she needs the first but afterward--

  I squirt body wash into my hands and begin rubbing it over her starting with her long, slender neck. It’s so delicate, like the rest of her. She has a dancer’s body, willowy and slim except for her breasts, which are just a little large for her frame. I smile, thinking how much I adore her breasts. I imagine my cock sliding between them and bite back a groan.

  “How does that feel, baby?” I ask.

  “Good,” she murmurs. She’s struggling to keep her eyes open but it’s a losing battle. A little sigh escapes her as she surrenders to my ministrations.

  I could keep this up all night, savoring the sight and feel of her beautiful body, but the need to fuck her is too urgent. Reluctantly, I tear my hands from her and wash myself. When I’m done, I lift her from the water, wrap her in a warmed bath sheet and pat her dry. I make a point of touching every inch of her, partly because I enjoy doing so but also because I want her to understand how completely she is mine. Her eyes flutter open as I untie the gold labia ring and set it aside. The look that she gives me suggests that she isn’t as tired as I thought.

  I knot a smaller towel around my hips and pluck a robe off the back of the bathroom door. It’s little more than a froth of black lace that’s enticing against the creaminess of Amelia’s skin. She slides it on with an all-over blush that’s delightful.

  Gazing at her, I have to remind myself that patience can be its own reward.

  Taking her hand, I say, “Let’s get some food into you, baby. The night’s still young and I don’t want you flagging.”

  The hotel staff has followed my instructions to the letter. In the small frig in the bar are plates of high energy foods--roasted nuts, slivers of whole grain bread, slices of smoked salmon and trout, fruits, and bite-sized bits of dark chocolate. I bring them to the round table along with another bottle of champagne.

  Amelia hesitates when I hold out a chair for her. “You must be hungry,” I say softly, urging her to sit. She does so after a moment but not without a wary glance in my direction.

  I can’t help smiling. She looks adorable with her erect nipples peeking through the black lace robe, her skin rosy from the bath, her lips swollen, and her eyes heavy-lidded in the aftermath of multiple orgasms. I uncork a fresh bottle of champagne and fill our glasses. I’m pacing myself but I want her nice and relaxed for what’s coming next.

  Before I sit down, I go over to the balcony door
s and open them. The sounds of sensual revelry spill into the room on the night air. As I join Amelia, the sharp, desperate cry of a woman rises above the wail of a sax.

  She stiffens and takes a quick breath. Without looking at me, she asks, “How long does this go on?”

  “Carnival? This is just the first night. There are three more to come.” At her flash of alarm, I barely hold back a laugh.

  “Isn’t that…excessive?” she asks, flushing. “It can’t be good for people to--”

  I top off her glass while she’s speaking. “To what? Eat, drink, and be merry while fucking like animals? Think of it as an outlet for impulses that could be a lot more destructive if they weren’t released from time to time.”

  She looks up at me through the fringe of her lashes. Her eyes are smoky and unreadable. It bugs the hell out of me that I don’t know what she’s thinking.

  “I’m surprised that you’re so cavalier about it all,” she says, “especially in the light of what’s happened.”

  “I’m realistic,” I say, correcting her. Before she can reply, I gesture at the food on her plate. “Enough talk. Eat.”

  I can see how conflicted she is but I’m also fully aware that she hasn’t asked to leave. That bothers me on some level I can’t quite grasp but at the same time I’d glad of it. I’m pushing her hard and it’s only going to get more intense. She should be walking out the door but instead she’s sticking with me. I can’t help but wonder why. I only know that I don’t deserve it.

  Amelia lifts a ripe red strawberry to her lips and sucks on it before taking a bite. Watching her, I lose track of whatever it was that I was thinking. The next half-hour or so passes in a blur. We eat and I keep the champagne flowing. Whatever I say, I must make some kind of sense but damned if I know how. All I’m aware of is Amelia, the tilt of her head, the curve of her mouth, the glimpses of her body through the black lace. The way my cock reacts, I’d think that I hadn’t had her in days instead of just a short time ago.