by Dani Collins
“It’s pathetic, I know. So can we just forget the whole thing?”
“Tell me what happened since you’ve been home.”
“No! It’s humiliating.”
“You were going to have a shower. Did you?”
“Yes. I was all excited to try my homework, but it didn’t work.”
“Dominic’s homework.” Despite the blame in her tone, a measure of excitement trickled through him.
“Yes, Dominic’s homework. Can we talk about something else?”
“No. I want to know what went wrong. This homework was self-pleasuring of some kind? You aroused yourself?”
“With the showerhead. I liked the hands-free idea, but it got to be too much.”
“It hurt? You were too sensitive?”
“That, and it felt too…much. I couldn’t take any more. And then I tried something else, but that just made me sweaty and cranky.”
“What was that?”
“Never mind.”
“Tell me.”
“It was, oh, kind of lying on my hand.”
“Ah.” He watched her cover her eyes, so ashamed even alone in her own bedroom. His heart softened while the rest of him hardened. “What were you thinking of when you were rocking yourself on your hand?”
“That I would die if anyone saw what I was doing. And now I think I’m going to kill myself because I can’t believe I just told you that.”
“If I walked in on a woman pleasuring herself that way, I would offer to help. If she’d let me, I’d bring her up onto her hands and knees and enter her from behind so she could continue stroking herself.”
“Jason.”
“You’re thinking about it, aren’t you? You know how a man feels, pumping inside you. Imagine that sensation coupled with the pleasure you can give yourself.” He let her consider it, waited until he saw her shift on the bed, gently rocking herself the way she had on the stool in the suite this afternoon.
It had been all he could do not to kneel in front of her and spread her legs then, and it was all he could do to stand motionless at his window now.
“Are you still wearing your robe, Arianne? From after your shower?”
“Yes.”
“Loosen it. Touch your breasts. Gently, though. You’re overstimulated.”
“Jason, I don’t want—”
“Shh. We’re going to do this together.” He was going to do it as Jason, just the way he’d always wanted. “I’m opening my shirt right now.” He flicked the buttons and stroked his hand across the prickling hair of his chest, found his small tight nipples and wished for a glimpse of her fuller ones. “What color are your nipples, Arianne? I’ve always wondered.”
“Jason…”
“It’s okay, Arianne. I’m helping you.”
“I— Beige, I guess. Well, no.” She opened the lapel of her robe, exposing the globe of her breast and cupping it in a small hand. Oh, how he wanted those hands on his own body, the fullness of those round breasts in his palms. “They’re kind of pinkish-red on the end.”
“Draw little circles around them, very lightly, and tickle along the slopes.”
“Both?” She eased back on the bed, cradling the phone in the crook of her neck while she opened the robe enough to expose the firm swells and dark tips. Her fingertips played across her white skin, up to her neck, across her shoulders, beneath and around to her rib cage, then over her nipples. As she grazed them, he saw the sharp little jiggle, heard her catch her breath.
“Feel good?” he murmured, following the same path across his own body.
“Yes.” Breathy and sweet.
“Rub your stomach.” He needed pressure there, where strength coiled. An animal’s readiness to subdue the struggles of a mate.
The robe parted further and she released the belt, revealing the stripe of skin all the way to her dark, unwaxed triangle.
“Stroke your thighs, the insides. Gently. Barely touch them.” He opened his belt, tricky with only one hand, but then his pants were loose and he was able to slip his hand inside and cup the taut weight of his balls, the thick readiness of his shaft. Not the tip yet. No, he would tease both of them a little more.
His conscientious little student let the robe fall completely open and hiked her heels onto the edge of the bed, pushing herself back a bit, then left her knees bent and relaxed open.
He tightened his fist on himself, barely able to resist the invitation.
“Are you still there?” she asked.
“Yes. I’m stroking my dick, keeping it slow. Why don’t you just carefully open your lips and rub along each side. Don’t touch your clit yet.”
“I can’t believe I’m doing this. Are you really doing it, too?”
“Does that excite you?”
“Yes,” she admitted in a thin voice. Her fingertips drew back her outer lips, revealing glistening red inner lips that needed to be tongued. He knew she did and pressed his hot forehead against the cold glass, flexing his hand hard on his throbbing rod.
He watched her do exactly as he’d said, the middle fingers of both hands sliding in the slick channels, her hips rocking. In his ear, she made a mewing noise.
“Like that?” he asked.
“I need more.”
“How many fingers can you take?”
“Two. Three was too—hah—much.” He watched and had to catch the tip of his dick in a hard grasp.
“Now one finger on your clit, darling. Gently. Barely touching. Let it strain up to meet the friction.”
“Jason, I can’t. It’s too much. And with you listening—”
“You listen to this,” he said, properly stroking himself now, pumping firmly with his fist. “Do as I say or I’m coming over there to do it for you. Now come.”
“I can’t!” But her hips twitched upward into her working hands.
“You want me to help? Rub your clit for you? Lick it and suck it? Two of my fingers are going to feel a helluva lot more—”
“Jason!” She arched, only her head and heels on the bed. “Oh, God, oh, God.”
“I’m coming,” he gasped.
“No!” She thrashed on the bed, her hips still lifting into the push of her hands. “Please, oh, God. Please don’t. Oh, Jason. It feels so good. So good.”
“No. I’m coming.” He dropped the phone and braced his arm across the window frame, mentally pushing himself deep into those lifted hips and erupting with a forceful spill that should have melted the window’s glass.
* * *
Arianne was still breathless and stunned, lying languid on the bed when the doorbell rang.
Bolting up, she bundled her robe around her, knotting it tightly as though whoever stood beyond that door knew exactly what she’d been doing.
“Arianne!” Jason shouted as she stepped into the hall
He did know what she’d been doing.
She couldn’t face him. Her body was still blushing and hot, her skin so sensitive the soft abrasion of her terry robe prompted tingles and hunger and a need for more.
She heard the key in the lock—her spare that she’d given to Jason for emergencies.
“This isn’t life or death!” she blurted as she met him in the hall.
“The hell it’s not.” Flushed and glassy-eyed, he raked his gaze down her front as though he knew what lay beneath the thick folds of robe. He pressed the door closed and pocketed the key without taking his eyes off her. “Did you come?” he asked, lifting his attention to her face.
Ha. Like a freight train. How many times had she lied to a girlfriend over the years, saying, “Yes, of course I orgasm.” In truth, she’d occasionally thought she had had a little one. Now she knew and oh, boy, there was no mistaking something like that.
Jason lifted his brows, demanding she answer.
“Is that why you’re here? You want to know if you talked me off the ledge?”
He snorted. “I’m here for a lot more than that. How do you feel?” His voice lowered to a sexy, toe-curling
level.
She felt smug. Satisfied. Excited. Ravenous for another and another and another. That image of him bending her onto her hands and knees, using his knees to part her own, entering her deep and stroking hard while she fingered herself kept playing in her mind. She blushed furiously as it bloomed in the back of her brain right now while he looked at her as if he had the same lascivious activity in mind.
“What—” She was too aroused to talk. Insanely aroused. She’d never been this attuned to her own body, perhaps because she’d never been this acutely sensitive. She had never reached this level of physical desire where her nipples stood at hard attention, needing the pressure of her forearm across them, aching to be pinched and circled and rubbed. Her sex throbbed. It was swollen and hot, she’d discovered when she’d found the courage to stroke and part and play in the slick fluid that collected there. Her heart beat faster as she thought of rubbing and penetrating herself again. This time she would know that the gathered tension was the best part because it built to the explosive release.
With a groan, Jason advanced on her, herding her into the wall and bracketing her head with his forearms. “Do you know how long I’ve waited for you to look like this? God, you smell like a love goddess. Open your robe. Let me look at you.”
“Jason,” she breathed. He’d been waiting for her…? “What are you saying—” She broke off as he crowded into her.
Pressing her hands to his chest, she caught her breath at how hard he was, all of him so hard. He stood against her but not pressing, the brush of his body more tease than force, and the thick length of his erection nudged lightly against her stomach. Muscles she hadn’t known she possessed until a few hours ago tensed and shot electric pleasure down her thighs.
“What we just did on the phone was an appetizer. Take me to your bed and let’s finish this.” He grazed her hairline with his lips as he spoke, letting his breath tickle and stimulate, trapping her but not pinning. Letting her know what he wanted and promising her pleasure in return. Coaxing her body to make up her mind for her. Seducing her.
It was working. She smelled a musky scent on him that heightened her senses to a sharp awareness. It made her long to writhe and strip and offer herself. The sensations in her cleft, so full and thick a minute ago, became empty and throbbing with need.
“Or forget the bed,” he murmured. “Open your robe, Arianne. Open your legs. Then I’ll only have to slide down my fly and bend my knees. I’ll fill you and we’ll both cry, it’ll be so good.”
“Against the wall?” Such a thing had never occurred to her. It was something other people did. Actors in movies. Wanton romance-novel heroines. Real people like her didn’t do things like that. They turned out the lights and crawled under the covers.
“It’s delicious that way, Arianne. I’ll hook your legs over my arms so you’re spread nice and wide. Your weight will drive my cock deep up inside you. You’ll like it, I know you will. So will I.”
Her pulse raced, excited, yet a cold shiver of doubt chased behind. Of course he knew. He had vast experience while she, on the other hand, was still learning. She could take Jason to her body and her bed, but her feelings of inadequacy would still be there. Jason liked games and she was determined to overcome her fear of playing.
Pressing him back, she tightened the knot on her belt. “I can’t.”
“Why the hell not?” His nostrils flared.
Testing herself and him, she curled her fingers into the thick warmth of the robe, hugging the delightful sensations playing through her. The tease. “I have homework.”
Chapter Four
By the time she arrived at the hotel the next afternoon, Arianne was so tender she was almost grateful Dominic had requested she not wear underwear. She couldn’t imagine being in worse shape if Jason had insisted on staying last night, but he’d left with ill grace and she’d proceeded to exhaust herself. Now she had carpal tunnel syndrome, an aching shoulder, her nipples hurt and the prickle of her own pubic hair abraded tissues she’d fondled to swollen sensitivity.
The sensations put self-conscious heat in her cheeks as she reported—per the written instructions Dominic had left in the back of the limo that had collected her—to the spa on the mezzanine level. Apparently he was treating her to a manicure and pedicure.
She wasn’t sure what had prompted the order, since she kept up with her appearance for her profession. Her fingernails were always kept in a short, tidy French polish, while her toes were a soft pink. Nevertheless, she submitted to the quiet spoken pair of women with Asian accents. They seated her in the warmth of a massaging chair and began their pampering.
Adjusting the chair to pulse in her lower back, Arianne sank her feet into the heated pool and relaxed, startled when a glass of champagne arrived.
“I didn’t… Does that come with the pedicure?” she asked.
“It’s part of the service arranged for you,” the blousy cosmetician said. “We’ll be trimming and styling your hair, as well.”
“Oh.” Arianne accepted the sparkling wine, deciding she might need it for whatever Dominic had planned.
Dominic. Jason. She didn’t know who was more disturbing, the man with the mask or the one who’d broken into her home last night. Jason had been so compelling, his eyes glassy with excitement, his powerful body primed from their phone sex.
She wasn’t quite as mortified as she should be about what she’d done. It had been too gratifying to hear his groan of pleasure and see him rampant with desire. For her.
He’d said he’d thought about her in a sexual way for a long time, but she’d never seen it before she mentioned Dominic. That made her wonder if knowing she was seeing his friend was provoking him. Was it jealous rivalry? Or the idea of sharing her? He’d done the same with Celine, so this sort of thing must be a sexual stir for him.
As she sipped, she chided herself for taking so quickly to the idea of having relations with two different men. Cold liquid slid down while warmth radiated into her back, submerged her hand and bubbled over her feet. The contrasting sensations were similar to the new heat in her friendship with Jason, pierced by the tart effervescence of the exotic vintage that was Dominic.
She wanted both, which rather shocked her, but then, part of her suspected she was dealing with only one anyway.
“What did the man look like, the one who ordered all this?” She held the rim of the flute against her lip so the bubbles pecked at her nose.
“I didn’t see, miss. I only know he was very strict about the color matching your dress.”
Her dress hung safely in the changeroom, and the spa robe covered her sufficiently, but the way the woman’s gaze moved over her told Arianne she’d made an impression when she had arrived. Arianne became aware of a subtle level of curiosity among the beauticians, speculative glances and secretive smiles. What could they be thinking of her?
Hooker.
The word leapt from the cellar of her mind and stopped her heart. Arianne parted her lips, urgent to straighten out any misconceptions, but how? What possible explanation could she offer that was better? The truth certainly wouldn’t do the job.
Yet to let these people think she gave up sexual favors for a fresh polish and an exquisitely thorough foot rub…actually the idea of making a promise in the form of a monetary transaction that would force her to leave her inhibitions at the door held a sudden, wicked attraction. As one woman applied oval tips to her fingernails and the other dug thumbs into the arch of her foot, Arianne let her thoughts drift to what Dominic might expect from her after spoiling her so thoroughly.
Whatever it was, she’d have to be sure to do exactly as she was told.
* * *
She managed to tap on the door this time.
Dominic answered promptly, splaying himself in a casual slouch in the space of the half-open door. He wore the same outfit as yesterday, black on black, still with the mask and gloves, still with that knowing smile and thoughtful purse of his sensual lips.
; His gaze traveled over her, making a thorough, silent inspection, from newly washed hair set in big luscious curls, over the silky dress she’d had to ask one of the spa women to help her slide into, since her nails hadn’t cured, and down to the CFM shoes.
“You’re going to make him very happy,” the woman had said, making last-minute touches to the way Arianne’s hair had fallen against her face and over her shoulders, the way a fussy mother might. Or a madam who had a lot invested.
A tiny blush stained Arianne’s cheeks as she let her mind run that direction—not that it had strayed far from the paid sex-trade worker fantasy since it had first occurred to her. In fact, it had been quietly stimulating her for over an hour, alternating with curiosity and trepidation for this second session.
Lesson.
If it ever started.
“Well?” she challenged, watching for the slightly condescending smile that would reveal he was Jason after all.
He lifted his gaze from her chest. He seemed…hesitant? Apologetic? No, a demeanor of complete command came over him as he met her eyes. His pupils dilated a fraction and his lips firmed with purpose. His tone was quietly stern.
“Stand straighter. Clasp your pocketbook in two hands behind your back. It’s a vast improvement over yesterday’s ugly purse, by the way. Now tuck the heel of one shoe against the arch of the other so it makes a T.”
She rolled her eyes, wondering if anyone was peering through the peephole of their door to see this.
“Shoulders back,” he murmured, his gaze on her breasts and the way her nipples stabbed without subtlety against the light fabric. “Now shift your weight from hip to hip. She how easy that is?”
She did, finding it an easy roll that allowed her to keep her balance without having to move her feet in these impossible shoes.
“You could pose like that for hours, couldn’t you?” He held her gaze for a few hard heartbeats and she suspected he considered closing the door to see how long she’d stay there.
Exactly as she’d been told.