by Christa Wick
"You weren't supposed to find that. You weren't even supposed to be here."
"But I did," I answered softly. "And I'm glad I did...I think."
I took a deep breath in, unable to camouflage the anxiety that gripped me.
Still not looking at me, he poked his chin in the direction of the patio and the scene of seduction I had so carefully laid out. "That doesn't bother you?"
"Hell yes it does," I answered. "I thought I was going to have to crawl back in here when I took the champagne and blanket out and started the fire."
Dylan rolled his lips together. His tongue appeared for one flashing second to lick the center between them. When he turned to me, his eyes were heavy, almost drugged in appearance. He blinked and then he took command of my shoulders again.
"We don't have to go out there." He pulled me to him. His hands moved up to my face, framing it and controlling the tilt of my head as he took his first kiss of the evening. "I just need you."
My turn to blink, the motion wet. "You want me to get over that fear, don't you?"
He didn't answer, just stared intently at me. His lips looked swollen, something I thought only happened with aroused women. He licked them again. Groaning, I pressed my thighs more tightly together so I could remain standing and then I leaned into him.
My hands found his hips and I used his body as a brace.
"Dylan, if you go out there, I will follow you. If you stay here, I'll stay here."
Need shook my body. My flesh heated, grew moist. The pressure between my legs mounted until I thought I might climax just from standing next to him.
Wordlessly, he stepped away from me and opened the sliding door. Not looking back, he circled the pool and pushed the fur throw to one side of chaise. Taking a seat, he extended his arm, his palm flat against the surface of the chair, his attention on his hand.
Marking my spot next to him.
My heart rattled inside my chest. I had been with him once and dreamt about being with him a thousand times at least. Neither the first time in Miami or there in the chateau I had rented for the night had the scene played out in any manner that matched my imagination. The fantasies always had an easier set-up, some minor variation in our daily routine that triggered his sudden realization that he wanted me, maybe even loved me.
No variation had been needed if what he had said was true. He had wanted me through all those boring office tasks, the long flights -- that first flight, even.
Slowly, the air thick around me, I took my first step onto the patio. His head lifted slightly. I saw a flash of his gray eyes, their color black in the evening light, and a small measure of relief. He had doubted that I would follow.
Another step. My legs felt weak but it had nothing to do with how high we were up, how I couldn't see the ground beyond the railings, just sky and the glow of Geneva and the black of the lake. I was weak from how badly I wanted him.
Dampness coated my thighs.
Somehow, I made it to the fire pit. He stopped me there. My blood froze and all that wetness between my legs threatened to evaporate as I worried whether he had changed his mind again.
"One second, Joey." He stood and repositioned the chair so that the back was to the pool and the end pointed toward the valley. He sat back down, his legs spread so that his feet rested on the ground. The fur throw bundled beneath one arm, he patted the area in front of him. "Here."
My wobbly legs navigated the last few feet and I sank relieved onto the chair.
Dylan covered me with the throw and then his hands dipped beneath the blanket. With just those last few steps, all the heat had returned to my body and my nipples pebbled painfully beneath my silk bra. He found the tips and rolled them between his thumbs and index fingers.
I released a shaky breath. He really wouldn't have to touch me down there before I popped.
"How thin do you think the air is up here?" he asked, chuckling softly as my hips lifted and I released a soft groan. "Because I'm definitely feeling lightheaded."
His lips ghosted my neck. I pushed into their kiss, my body beginning to shake.
"I don't know," I answered. "We are about a mile above sea level. Like Denver."
He nuzzled my neck again. "I don't remember feeling like this in Denver, but then, you weren't there with me."
A cat-like smile uncurled along my face, the air moving through my lungs in a rough imitation of a satisfied purr.
"I promised myself I was going to spank you if you were okay," he said right before his teeth fastened around my ear lobe. His hands smoothed down my body. When he reached the bend of my thighs, his fingers started walking the skirt of the dress up my leg.
I lifted when the fabric resisted from my body trapping it against the chair. When he finally had the material up around my hips, his fingers dipped inside my panties to find me soaking wet.
"What color?" he asked with a hot whisper.
"Crimson," I answered softly. I meant the fabric of my undies, but the flesh he stroked had to be as deep a red with need.
He leaned deeper into the back of the chaise. One hand escaped from beneath the blanket to wrap around my hair and pull me with him before it dove back under the fur. His fingers pulled my thighs apart as he nibbled at my ear. He spent a few more seconds securing his grip on the side panels of the silk underwear and then he decimated them with a single sharp jerk.
At the sound of the fabric shrieking, my hips lifted with a ragged pump, my body further aroused by the show of force. His palm landed on my mound and pushed me down against the cushion. His breath steamed against the side of my face as his hands massaged my pussy.
Fingers holding my labia open, his thumbs launched a synchronized attack against my clit with feathery strokes. My ass pushed against the chaise, grinding with desire. I might have had most of the leverage, but he was so strong he didn't need it. He kept me trapped with just his hands, allowing me only a little wiggle room to heighten my frustration.
"I've been dying since Miami," he whispered in my ear. "Before then, really, but after I had a taste of you, I was completely lost."
Only once had I thought that might be the case, when he capitulated and disclosed Alexa's location. The rest of the time, even the few instances he had tried to force control over my activities, like forbidding I pose in the catalog, his demeanor had been so distant that I couldn't believe he did it because he cared rather than merely because he wanted to establish his command at the company.
My hips stopped moving as a tear slowly tracked its way down my cheek.
"You don't believe me?" He waited, expecting perhaps that I would answer, but I didn't. He continued. "That's my fault."
I agreed with a harsh whisper as I tried to keep my crying to that solitary drop.
He chuckled softly and then his hand escaped the blanket again. He thumbed the tear away, his fingers taking control of my chin at the same time so that my face turned just enough that he could kiss my cheek and then the side of my mouth.
"So why are you here?" he asked. "And don't tell me it was because of the brooch in my pocket."
I pressed my lips tightly together and tried to shut down my brain. Why did he have to inject any conversation into what we had started?
"The brooch made you realize that, even if I'm an ogre, I don't want to be -- at least not around you."
Against my better judgment, my head made a small bob in agreement.
"Still, that's not enough to bring you here. The brooch made you admit that you wanted me to have feelings for you."
This time I kept my gestures on lock down. I remained so still I could have been a stone carving.
"I'm not afraid to say that I love you, Marjolein." Dylan pulled me onto my side, my lower body nestled between his spread legs and my upper torso against his chest.
Not wanting to meet his gaze, I pushed my face against his neck.
"Of course," he started, clearing his throat as he stroked my hair. "That's not the same as saying I love you, is it?"<
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When only the crickets replied, he growled and unwedged himself from the chair and my body. As he stood, I felt a sharp pang of disappointment at how quickly he retreated.
Or did he?
Bending over me, he slowly peeled the fur blanket down my body, straightening my skirt as he went to keep me unexposed, even though only a satellite or a plane could have seen anything where we were at.
"We're not having this conversation out here or with you avoiding my gaze." Pocketing my torn panties, he extended his arms toward me. "Come inside."
Slowly I sat up, cautious because I had no idea where the evening was going or whether a sudden bolt of fear would hit me as it had earlier when I was alone on the overhang.
"You're safe," he said, his palms open in invitation for me to grab hold of his hands. "Whatever it is you fear right now, even if it's me, I'll keep you safe."
I watched his face as he spoke, but avoided his eyes. I had never quite learned how to read his gaze, but I could see the truth in the way he held his mouth.
He would walk away if I foolishly said I wanted him gone. The pain that had stabbed at me when he stood had receded, but it erupted again, a softer infusion across my entire chest but more encompassing. It hurt just as badly to know that he might love me but would leave me anyway.
"Joey, love, just come inside with me. That's just a small request, isn't it? Easily satisfied, right?"
My lips pushed forward and my brain grew fuzzy. This wasn't how Dylan Kehoe negotiated.
Was he negotiating?
"Let's start by you taking just one of my hands, okay?"
My brows lifted and I could just imagine how ridiculous my expression had become.
His light, warm laugh wrapped itself around me and I had to finally look into his eyes to figure out what he found so funny.
Instantly, his mirth disappeared. He lowered his body so that one knee was planted against the concrete next to his other foot. His hands curled around my knees. As tall as he was, he still had to dip a little to look at my eyes.
This time, I let him hold my gaze.
"Marjolein Dekker, I love you. I would like to discuss whether you love me back, which I think is at minimum a remote possibility, but I would like to do it inside where I know any unresponsiveness on your part is solely my fault and not a result of how high up we are."
He stood, capturing one of my hands and offering to hold the other.
"Come inside, baby."
I stood, my grip on his hand tightening. The tension worked its way up my arm and through the rest of my body so that each step felt like I was wearing lead boots. It had nothing to do with the elevation and everything to do with the man leading me into the chateau I had rented for the night.
Once we were inside, Dylan found the switch that lowered the blinds and cut off the view of the evening sky. Reclaiming my hand, he led me to the deep-seated couch and folded me onto it. He chose to perch at the end of the cushion, his hand still warmly wrapped around mine and his body angled so that a slight turn of his head allowed him to look directly at me.
His lips rolled restless against one another for a few seconds and then he started talking with a slow blink. "When I interviewed you for the executive suite, I was just going through the motions for HR. You know that age-sex-ethnicity distribution sheet they send out monthly to keep legal happy?"
I nodded. The staff that had served the executive suite before my arrival had reflected a reverse ageism, none of the secretaries or clerks below the age of forty. I could understand, initially, based on the assumption that age equaled experience and competency. That assumption held true for quite a few of the staff, but not all. The ones that failed to meet that assumption failed spectacularly, to put it kindly.
Still, it had been quite an experience coming into the executive offices at the age of 24, just two years out of college and with only two years and a summer internship with them between my junior and senior year working for the company.
"But the interview," he continued, "was like someone had pulled back the curtain and let the sun in for the first time in a decade."
He rubbed my hand as if I might be chilled, but I knew he was trying to gather his thoughts. "I think I started going soft in the head over you about month four."
"I'm not a disease," I softly corrected.
He blinked and a small smile relaxed his mouth. "No. But I had forgotten what it was like to relax around anyone -- even Jake and Riona. I had forgotten what it was like to have the tension disappear anywhere other than in a playroom with an experienced..."
Clearing his throat, Dylan patted my hand as if offering an apology or excusing himself for skipping over things that I was too fragile to hear.
"It's okay," I said. "I know you've fucked a lot of women the last two and a half years."
"Not as many as you think," he responded. "I stopped three months before Miami, even though I still booked and paid the women."
My lips parted and I sucked a slow breath in. "Why did you keep booking them...and ordering even more expensive jewelry for them?"
The last three months before Miami had started to take their toll on me. That first big order from Giorgio with three times as many carats in sapphires had sent me to the ladies room for a fifteen minute crying jag. I was certain it was the first sign of him having fallen in love or at least a far deeper lust with one of his paid submissives.
"I didn't want to acknowledge that the status quo had changed...didn't even want to admit it to myself."
I wanted to slug him for those three months of extra hell. Instead, I pulled my hand from his grasp. He distracted himself by straightening the pressed line of his dress pants. I had seen him perform the same act hundreds of times. Usually, he was distancing himself.
"Don't," I bit out, tears springing to my eyes as I covered the closest of his hands. I gave a rough squeeze as I argued with myself about saying anything more. "It's just, I noticed the change and those three months hurt like hell. I had been hoping for a change and it seemed to be in the wrong direction."
I took my hand away again, this time to wipe at an errant tear. Dylan eased more of his body onto the couch, the motion bringing him closer to me. His fingers trailed up my forearm and then slid across my stomach to secure my opposite hip.
"I keep making plans, things that serve some stupid image I've put out there but that I don't even want most of the time, and then I look at you and everything changes." He nodded in the direction of the entry way. "Before I knocked, I promised myself I would spank your bottom hard and long enough that you couldn't sit for a week if you had come here of your own free will. Now I just want to take you into the bedroom and hold you, sleep with you in my arms and get you to agree that we can start fresh."
"Not if all you're going to do is talk," I half-laughed, half-hiccuped as a fresh spill of tears threatened. "You not only have an image of you stuck in your head that works against us, but an image of me. I'm not fragile..."
"You're strong as steel, baby," he agreed with a squeeze of my hip.
"And I'm not a doormat," I added with a light growl for emphasis. "I am my own person."
He nodded, his eyes sparking with a fire I couldn't name.
"If I want to model for the company, I will."
Dylan sucked his bottom lip into his mouth and started to chew at it.
"I will," I repeated. Wiggling my way off the couch, I stood and slammed my hands onto my hips, my fingers curled into fists. "And the next time you start to distance yourself from me, I'm buying an aluminum baseball bat and hitting you upside the head. That will be your only warning, do you understand?"
A grin broke across his face and he nodded.
"Good!" Reaching toward him, I wrapped my fingers around the top knot of his tie and tugged him forward. "Now, I had some very definite plans for the evening and they didn't involve all this talking. You're coming with me--"
"You're coming first," he whispered, his grin turning wicked. "Multipl
e times."
********************
My fingers gripped the top edge of the headboard, I lifted my torso as my eyes rolled back. A shaky moan escaped me and then my entire body began to quiver. My first release of the night and I still had my dress and bra on.
His tongue slowing against my clit, Dylan glanced up as I opened my eyes and looked down.
The gray irises had darkened to near black, the dimmed bedside lamps reflecting like fireflies in his gaze. Taking a long, last lick of my clit, he pulled his fingers from inside my sodden cunt and seized my hips.
Holy fuck, he was a god in bed, every kiss and stroke were a heady ambrosia that kept me totally intoxicated.
He dragged me lower down the bed. Kneeling between my legs, he stripped off his tie and dress shirt as I watched. My hands found my breasts to squeeze in a failed attempt to tame my grinding hips. I wanted him in me, didn't want to explode with another orgasm merely from looking at him. My pussy burned with the need to wrap around the thick erection I could see pressing against the front panel of his pants.
"Easy, love," he said as he unzipped and eased the fabric down his lean hips. His cock slowly emerged into view, its crown topped by a fat pearl of pre-cum.
I licked at my lips, eager for a taste of him. My pussy squeezed around itself, all the muscles knotted and pushing out more of my cream. Damn, I wanted this man in me, fucking me, his mouth free to whisper that he loved me.
My eyes misted at that last thought, causing Dylan to stop the removal of his pants.
"Keep going," I whispered. "I'm okay, I just want you so badly it hurts."
"I know the feeling," he whispered softly and shed the last of his clothes.
I reached for the first side button hidden beneath the sash of the black silk wrap dress I had selected for the evening. He stopped me, his hand covering mine.
"Let me, please."
The request issued rawly and I eased my hand away in an offer of absolute compliance. He started with the bottom, slowly working up to the top button. Next, he unknotted the sash, mischief dancing in his gaze as he measured the full length of the tie before looking at my hands.