by BETH KERY
He’d stirred when the alarm sounded but had fallen back into sleep when she’d shut it off. Once again, she’d had the vivid fantasy of touching him while he was vulnerable, taking his full cock into her hand, putting her mouth all over bulging muscle and smooth skin, kissing, licking, biting . . .
It was precisely the type of thing her mother might do to take advantage of a man—seduce him while he was sleeping.
He’d tightened his arm around her in an instinctive gesture after she’d shut off the alarm. Elise had had to use every ounce of her will to leave his embrace.
Now here she was with him again and he was fully awake, and she was the one who experienced acute vulnerability.
He looked up suddenly from his cell phone screen, pinning her with his light eyes. A small smile took the place of the scowl he’d been wearing.
“What are you doing sitting back there watching me, quiet as a mouse,” he murmured, coming toward her.
“I was waiting for you,” she said, feeling a strange mixture of contentment and anxiety at hearing his familiar rich voice in the hushed room. He wore a European-cut, sharp-looking black suit today with a tailored, cuffed shirt and a silvery-blue tie. He looked crisp and exotic and so masculine, it made her ache. He briskly removed his jacket, loosened his tie, and unfastened several buttons before he sat on the cushion where her feet rested. She smiled when he picked up her feet and placed them in his lap. She moaned appreciatively when he began to rub them.
“Oh, that feels good,” she said, watching his large hands on her feet, mesmerized by the sight. He looked so masculine in comparison to her, so strong, his veined hands striking in contrast next to her smooth, pale feet. “Why were you scowling?”
“Was I?” he asked, pausing momentarily to meet her stare.
She nodded, noticing his slight distraction in addition to his desire to hide it from her. “Bad news?” she asked, nodding at the phone he’d placed on the coffee table a moment ago.
“Yes, as a matter of fact,” he said after a moment.
“Lucien?” she prompted, concerned by his worried expression when he didn’t continue.
“I’ve discovered that the executive I hired to manage the Three Kings Corporation has been embezzling money,” he said tersely, referring to the three luxurious hotels in Paris that had come under his reluctant control when his father had been sent to prison.
“Oh no,” she said sympathetically. “What will you have to do?”
“Deal with it,” he said brusquely after a pause. “Monsieur Leboeuf will be arrested as soon as I get there to provide concrete evidence of the embezzlement. But I’d rather not think about it at the moment. I’d rather hear from you why you were waiting up for me.”
Her heartbeat began to throb in her ears. “Are . . . are you sure you don’t need to leave for Paris . . . book a flight right now?” she asked nervously.
His eyes ran over her face. “Yes. I will have to leave. Very soon. It’s my fault, what’s happened to the Three Kings.”
“How can you say that? You hired that man because you trusted him. You had no idea he was going to steal from you.”
He closed his eyes briefly. “My father’s property was not a responsibility I wanted. But it is mine nonetheless. I’ve let hundreds of employees down because of my refusal to take part in his businesses . . . because of my stubbornness.”
“Lucien, that’s not being fair. You know it’s not. It’s a complicated situation. You being repulsed by your father’s fortune and properties, by his legacy to you, is very understandable.”
“Understandable, yes. Forgivable? Given the possible consequences, perhaps not,” he said, meeting her stare levelly. “Why were you waiting up for me?”
Something about his tone told her the topic of the embezzlement and his guilt at what had occurred was closed.
“I . . . I wanted to talk to you about something, but that was before all this happened,” she said, waving at his phone. “I don’t want to bother you with unimportant things.”
His hands enclosed both of her feet at once, his thumbs pressing gently into her arches. “You’re not bothering me, and I consider what you have to say very important. What did you want to talk to me about?”
She swallowed thickly. He seemed so calm, so expectant . . . as if he knew precisely how difficult this was for her. How did one begin talking about their hopes . . . their desires? She felt naked, despite the summer dress she’d donned upon arriving at the penthouse.
“I . . . um . . . I was talking to Francesca this morning and . . . she encouraged me to talk to you about this idea that I have.”
“Idea?” he asked. As he spoke, he began massaging her feet again. Did he instinctively sense her anxiety and was trying to relax her? She’d never known anyone who could read her the way Lucien could. “Elise?” he prompted when her words got clogged in her throat. A shadow fell across his face as he studied her closely. “Just tell me,” he insisted gently.
It all spilled out of her. Everything she’d told Francesca about Michael, about their friendship . . . the trauma of losing such a unique man. She told him her idea about the restaurant she wanted to open, the words coming out of her in a pressured fashion. She couldn’t meet his eyes the whole time.
“And so that’s all of it, I guess,” she said after several uninterrupted minutes. Lucien still held her feet in his warm hands. Through the reflection of the floor-to-ceiling windows, she could see that his head was turned, and that he stared at her face. “Francesca said something about mentioning the idea to you because you know so many people in the industry. I thought maybe you could . . .”
“What?” he asked gently when she faded off.
“Help me,” she whispered.
“Elise, look at me.”
Her throat convulsed. She dragged her gaze off his reflection and met his stare.
“Did Michael give you those pearls?”
She nodded, tears burning in her eyes. “For my twenty-fourth birthday, just weeks before he died. He didn’t really have the money to buy me a gift like that.”
“You really loved him, didn’t you?”
“Yes. Not in the romantic way, but yes. He changed my life.”
“He brought you to me.”
One tear skittered down her cheek at his stark statement.
“Of course I’ll help you, Elise.”
“You will?” she asked slowly.
“It’s a very good idea. Why wouldn’t I help you?”
“I don’t need money or anything. By the time I can open the business, I’ll have control of my trust fund. I just need advice. Support.”
“You have both. You have whatever I can offer.”
The tightness in her chest and throat amplified. “It’s that simple?” Her gaze glued to his small smile.
“Yes. It’s that simple. All you have to do is ask. You don’t have to manipulate, or seduce, or do something crazy or dangerous . . . or forsake your pride. Those are the tools of our parents, of a past I’d rather leave behind. If it’s within my power, I’ll give you whatever you need. But you must ask.”
Whatever you need.
His nostrils flared slightly as he stared at her. Again, she experienced his patient anticipation. “Did you want something else?”
His quiet voice tickled her ear and caused her heart to throb.
“Yes,” she whispered.
“Then tell me.”
Her lips felt numb when she opened them. His gaze was both blazing and somehow compassionate, like a steady, strong flame. It gave her courage.
“I want to give myself to you. I want to submit to you . . . please you. I want to trust you enough to give you control sexually.”
His nostrils flared slightly. His massaging hands stilled.
“You don’t want to trust, Elise. You either do or you don’t,” he said, his gaze narrowing on her. “You undoubtedly have had good reason for the majority of your life to keep a tight rein on other men. Do you trust me
enough to let go, or don’t you?”
She searched his features, looking for any hint that she was making a mistake. She saw nothing but his rock-solid fortitude. Still, it was a frightening thing, to trust.
“I trust you,” she said, hoping he didn’t hear the tremor in her voice.
She was glad of her decision when she saw the flash of happiness and pride cross his features. She tucked that expression on Lucien’s face safely away with other treasured memories.
“Come here,” he said, putting out his arms. She swung her legs around to the floor, anxious, but also eager to go into his embrace, to begin to discover well and truly what he meant when he said he wanted to dominate her sexually, to find out what it meant to submit to desire.
His phone began to ring. Elise glanced at the screen as she moved into his arms.
“It’s the Hotel Louis,” she said, pausing next to the couch.
Annoyance flickered across his features. He hesitated.
“It’s okay, Lucien,” she assured. “It must be an emergency, for them to be calling at this hour.” Still, he didn’t reach to answer it, seeming undecided. Finally, he cursed under his breath and snatched up the phone.
Elise’s concern rose as she listened to him speak in terse French to whoever was on the other end of the line.
“It sounds bad,” she said when he eventually hung up.
“I had Monsieur Atale, the manager of the Hotel Louis—a man I trust implicitly—look into something for me. He’s been working on it and reporting back to me every few hours. It seems our main accountant was in on the embezzlement scheme. Monsieur Atale doesn’t have adequate funds to complete the payroll, and it’s payday tomorrow.”
“I’m so sorry,” she said, hating the worry lines on his forehead.
He pinned her with his stare. “I can handle the technicalities of getting things back on track. I’m just furious at those sons of bitches for forcing the issue now. Just when you finally spoke your desire aloud to me.”
She gave him a shaky smile and sunk down next to him on the couch. She took his hand. “It’ll still be my desire when you get back.”
He squeezed her hand and lifted it to kiss her knuckles.
“You’re going to have to leave tonight, aren’t you?” she asked.
“As soon as my secretary in Paris can book me a charter flight. She’ll be calling back any minute. I’m sorry, Elise. It’s rotten timing.”
“I understand,” she assured, ignoring the ache expanding in her chest. “Of course you must go. The employees of all three hotels have dependents . . . families relying on them. They need their paychecks and jobs.”
“I’m glad you understand.” He stood and took her into his arms. When she looked up at him, he cradled her jaw, his fingers caressing her tenderly. He glanced at his cell phone and then back at her. She heard him curse under his breath. The next thing she knew, he’d swept her into his arms and was carrying her toward the hallway.
“Lucien?” she asked, amazed.
“A few minutes isn’t going to make that much of a difference,” he said grimly.
A moment later, he lowered her onto his bed and placed his hands on either side of her hips.
“Do you own a vibrator, ma chère?” he asked, his face just inches from her own, his voice striking her as decadent and rich, making her skin prickle with awareness.
She swallowed thickly and shook her head.
He said nothing, but moved away from her. She watched, her breath coming in increasingly erratic puffs, as he turned and opened one of the bedside table drawers. He removed an unopened box and tore through the seal, tipping the contents into his hand. She saw a chrome, bullet-shaped object and several red elastic bands fall into his palm. He chose one of the bands and attached it to the vibrator. He secured the chrome bullet to his finger using the band and sat on the bed next to her.
“Take off your panties and lift your dress to your waist. I’m going to pleasure you, and you will return the favor. It’s going to be quick, out of necessity,” he said, his mouth twisting slightly in dissatisfaction, “but effective, and I want to explain something to you.”
Quick but effective. Her pulse began to thrum at her throat.
She felt his gaze on her as she whisked her panties down her thighs and off her legs. “Sit in the middle of the bed,” he demanded quietly when she started to raise her dress. She scooted to the center and leaned against the pillows, her breathing growing choppier by the second from mounting excitement. His gaze remained glued to her pussy when she lifted her dress to her waist.
“Now spread your thighs,” he murmured, edging toward her on the bed, one knee bent, the other long leg left draped over the side of the mattress.
She watched with bated breath as he flicked a button on the vibrator and she heard a muted buzzing sound, like a bee had invaded the room. She gasped loudly when he matter-of-factly pushed the metal bullet against her labia. Delicious vibrations stimulated her clit.
“Oh,” she cried out, her eyes going wide. It created a wicked tingling, and then an addictive, slow burn.
He studied her face and smiled. “Feel good?”
“Yes,” she assured breathily. The metal was warming against her hypersensitive flesh. In the distance, she heard the insistent sound of his cell phone ringing. She opened her lips, but he spoke before she did.
“Ignore it,” he said tautly. “This is your vibrator now. It’s an expensive one—very powerful. I want you to use it on your little pussy every night at eleven thirty while I’m gone. I want you to think about what you told me, about how you wanted to submit to me in bed. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she replied. He’d pushed the vibrator deeper between her labia and was pulsing it ever so subtly with his finger. Her hips began to flex against the precise little instrument.
“And every time you are about to come, I want you to pull the vibrator away and stave off your orgasm. You may apply it again after you have cooled some. When you begin to crest again, you must pull the vibrator away. Picture me telling you that you must.”
“How many times must I do that before I . . . come?” she gasped when he pulsed his finger against her with added pressure.
“Until you imagine me giving you permission to climax. Remember,” he said, gray eyes glittering with arousal and amusement, “I’m a demanding master, but not a cruel one.
“When I call you every day, you’ll tell me how successful you were—or how you failed,” he continued. “I expect complete honesty. You know I could always tell when you were lying. Even when you were a girl,” he reminded her as he watched his finger pulsing against her clit. “If you are successful in showing discipline, I will reward you. If you aren’t, I’ll tell you what your punishment is.”
Liquid heat surged between her thighs at the potent combination of the vibrator on her clit and his illicit instructions. She could just imagine how erotic it would be, reporting to him her intimate moments of masturbation, anticipating his rewards and punishments when she next saw him. Yes, the punishments, because she knew she would fail miserably at the challenge. She’d never been very good at denying herself pleasure, especially such a delicious one. Her hips bobbed against the vibrator. It felt so good . . . so hot.
But suddenly Lucien lifted his finger. She whimpered at the deprivation.
“Do you understand, Elise?”
She swallowed the protest on her tongue. “Yes,” she whispered.
“Good. Now, unbutton your dress and show me your pretty breasts.”
Chapter Ten
Her chest was heaving against her fingers as she unfastened the row of buttons on her sundress. Lucien grunted softly in approval when she peeled back the fabric and he saw she wasn’t wearing a bra.
“That’s beautiful. I would prefer it if you didn’t wear underwear here in the penthouse when it’s just us, and we aren’t expecting visitors. I will want you frequently, and it’s best that you are prepared. Now, squeeze them and pl
ay with the nipples while I put the vibrator back on you,” he instructed in a tight voice.
She gathered her breasts in her palms, squeezing at the soft, firm flesh, growing more enthusiastic in her movements when she saw the way Lucien’s eyes blazed as he watched her and the vibrator buzzed and stimulated her clit. Oh, she was starting to burn in earnest. She used her thumbs and forefingers to pinch at both nipples at once. She’d never done it before, not having much interest in her own breasts, despite her former male companions’ avid fascination for them. It felt good. She pinched hard, the spike of pain spicing the stimulation on her clit.
“That’s right. Do you like that?” Lucien asked, his finger pulsing against her clit more strenuously.
“So much,” she said, bobbing her hips against Lucien’s hand and the vibrator with more force.
“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered. “When I come back from Paris, I’m going to keep you in bed for days. That’s right. Pinch those pink nipples.”
She did what he said, her excitement mounting by the second. The bottoms of her feet began to tingle. The vibrator was extremely accurate and powerful.
“Oh, I’m going to come.”
“Ask for my permission.”
Her gaze darted to his face in surprise. His expression looked rigid with arousal . . . and entirely serious. “May I . . . come?”
“First spread your lips apart. Let me see your pink little jewel,” he said, his voice an arousing combination of a purr and a growl. “Ah, that’s right. Lovely,” he muttered, momentarily lifting his vibrating finger to eye her glistening clitoris. “I expect you to use more discipline than this while I’m away,” he said pointedly. “But since we are short on time tonight . . .”
She gasped and whined when he placed the vibrator on her exposed, naked clit.