Innocent in the Ivory Tower

by Lucy Ellis

  In fact he was starting to suspect Maisy’s sexuality was as artless as the rest of her. She wasn’t selling something, and—surprise, surprise—he didn’t want to buy her. He didn’t know exactly what it was he wanted from her, but he knew a beautiful girl in a stunning dress shouldn’t be pushed so far, end up so distressed, she lost her balance trying to escape his cruel taunts. She was lying in his bed in pain because he couldn’t deal with his goddamned issues.

  This wasn’t him. He didn’t lose control like that. Especially with a woman. Especially not this woman. Maisy’s uncomplicated sweetness was what he needed right now, so why was he pushing her away?

  Barefoot and bare-chested, he crossed the hall. He lifted his hand to knock as his door swept open. She was standing there in one of his shirts, face scrubbed, amazingly beautiful.

  ‘I want to know why you have such a low opinion of me,’ she said bluntly.

  The shock of seeing her like this, clearly strong and ready to take him on again, put him off balance. The combination of bare legs and his shirt made it difficult for him to think straight. Yet he was compelled to mutter, ‘I don’t have a low opinion of you.’

  She stared back at him as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, although her eyes were all over his bare skin. ‘Then maybe you could be a little nicer to me.’

  Nice? She wanted him to be nice?

  ‘How’s your shoulder?’

  ‘A little touchy, but I don’t want to talk about my shoulder.’

  ‘Neither do I, but it’s good to know.’ And in one movement he heaved her up over his shoulder and with his foot kicked shut the door behind them.

  Oh, my.

  ‘What are you doing?’ she managed, although it would have been fairly clear to Blind Freddy what was going on. He was going to finish what he’d started in London right now, here, on this bed that was suddenly under her, and she was looking up into his laser-blue eyes and every one of her fantasies was pulsating to life.

  ‘Yes or no, Maisy. Your decision.’

  Yes, screamed her body, shifting from zero to a hundred in under two seconds. But you hardly know him. Nice girls don’t do this. Anais made Leo wait three months …

  Then he ran his thumbs gently over the inside of her wrists, lifting one of her hands to press his mouth where his thumb had been. Maisy made a soft little sound and he lifted her arms up over her head so that her breasts lifted and her body stretched out for him. He lowered himself down over her, hovering, his weight on his forearms, overwhelming her with the sheer size and strength of his body.

  She broke the connection of their gaze to sweep a comprehensive look down his body, poised above hers. The faint press of his ribs, the slabs of muscle across his chest and shoulders and back, bunched as he bore the weight of his own body. It all combined to make her feel small and soft and feminine, and she wanted to touch him so badly her palms were burning.

  ‘What do you want, Maisy?’

  His scintillating blue eyes were so deep in hers Maisy found it hard to gather her words. Her heartbeat was so loud she was being deafened by it.

  ‘I want everything,’ she confided, her breath catching in her throat. ‘I want you.’

  Something flared in his eyes that caused a tug deep in her pelvis, and she half rose up off the mattress to meet him as he lowered his head to kiss her, long and slow and with a deep satisfaction. As if they had all the time in the world. But he kept her arms pinned so that she felt vulnerable to him in this position, her breasts rubbing slightly against his chest, her nipples sharpened with nerve endings and pressing against him shamelessly.

  It felt incredibly good, yet when she tried to shift her arms his hands slid over hers and made it impossible for her to move. The more she strained against him the deeper he kissed her, her breasts sliding and pushing against him. Then he released her.

  Stunned, Maisy lay alone on the bed as he leapt up. For a moment she didn’t know what was going on, until full morning sunshine rushed into the room. Alexei had activated the blinds on the windows, letting in some light on the subject. Maisy blinked furiously as it hit her in the face. She brought her arms down, pressing on her good elbow as she struggled to sit up, confused and wondering exactly what she was getting herself into.

  Alexei stepped in front of her so that she was forced to remain seated, gazing up at him. For one simmering moment he just stood there, looking down at her, those jeans sitting tantalisingly low on his lean hips. His abdomen was so ripped she longed to trace her fingers along the fine delineations of muscle. He was that close. A light smattering of dark chest hair covered him before arrowing down and disappearing into the V of his taut pelvic cradle. Maisy followed it with her eyes, her mouth running dry as she registered the distinct bulge. He surely didn’t want that? Now? Did he? Was she supposed to start confessing everything she didn’t know about the male body?

  ‘Stop thinking, Maisy,’ he instructed her, his voice warm with humour. ‘Shift over, dushka.’

  Feeling off-centre and decidedly gauche, Maisy scooted over into the centre of the bed, wondering if she should say something—if she was supposed to be doing something a more sophisticated woman would just know in her bones how to do. But he was coming down over her, blocking out the sun, and suddenly all she could see and feel and inhale was him.

  He brushed his lips over her mouth, and when she instinctively responded he moved away to drop butterfly kisses along her jawline. Maisy began to sense he was playing a game with her, one of advance and retreat, as if tightening his hold on her each time. She didn’t want London, she didn’t want out-of-control, but nor did she want to play a part in any sort of game. She wanted simple, she thought nervously as her body responded despite her jangling thoughts. She wanted honest. She just wanted him.

  Maybe she should tell him.

  Then his breath was hot in her ear and he began to promise her things … wicked things, sexual things … and then he shifted slightly, and she was pinned under the heft of his body, and she felt every inch of what he wanted to do with her.

  Oh, my.

  Maisy lost her ability to think, the wicked images he had put in her head heating her blood. She wrapped her arms around his neck to anchor him to her and made her own soft, satisfied sound under the impact of his mouth on hers. She winced as her shoulder gave a sharp tug and he instantly rolled onto his back, his arm around her waist, to pull her over on top of him.

  For an instant she felt a wave of disappointment. Was he going to pull away from her again?

  Instead he framed her face with his big hands. ‘Better for your shoulder,’ he muttered against her mouth, lifting to kiss her again, and a rush of real warmth ran through Maisy because he was looking after her.

  Being on top also allowed her to set the pace. She fused her mouth to his, tasting the salt and spice and goodness of him, her hands meshing in his hair as she swept her tongue into his mouth. She had absolutely no idea what she was doing. She knew the mechanics, what went where, but her single dismal experience had left her with very little understanding of what he was going to like. She hoped if she pleased herself it would please him too.

  His hands were on her back, searching for the ends of his shirt and rucking it up. He spread his fingers over her cool bare skin, sweeping his hands down over her hips until he had the little scrap of lace clinging to her bottom beneath his fingers. He squeezed the lush weight of her buttocks and her knees dropped instinctively to either side of his hips. The impressive erection contained in his jeans was nestled in exactly the right spot for her, and he groaned as Maisy gave an experimental wriggle, then settled over him. He obliged, using his hands on her hips to work her rhythmically against him.

  Maisy began to pant, making little gasping noises, and Alexei thought the sound alone was going to undo him. It was incredible. He felt like a teenage boy all over again, barely able to keep a leash on the urges rushing through his body. It was all Maisy—the feel and smell and look of her, and the way she used his bod
y to satisfy herself. Something had tipped in her favour early on in this encounter and he had lost the upper hand. If he’d ever had it. He began to growl her name and her thighs clenched around him.

  That deep note in his voice always pulled on her inner muscles, and combined with the friction of him under her it lit the match and Maisy moaned, body taut, as her core dissolved into liquid sunshine. Unable to believe what had happened, she pressed her mouth into the base of his throat, face blood-red, and trembled on top of him with tiny aftershocks. Oh, God—she had used him as a sex toy.

  Alexei was sitting her up, moving her on past the moment, so that she was virtually straddling his lap. His bigger body made her feel small and delicate in his arms, vulnerable to him in this position. Stripped to the waist, the spread of his chest was available to her hands and she began touching him, marvelling at the strength beneath the hot skin, meshing her fingers in his light chest hair, nuzzling him with her nose and mouth, running her tongue over his flat nipples until he hissed. The sound surged through Maisy’s body, giving her a much needed boost in confidence.

  His hands were actually shaking as he got busy at the buttons of his shirt.

  ‘Okay, Maisy?’ His eyes sought hers again as his fingers kept on moving down the shirt.

  She swayed against him and their mouths met, mingled. Maisy got a little lost in the kissing until his lips left hers, and then she looked down and saw the deep valley between her breasts had come into view. Alexei’s stunning hot gaze did not shift from that moment on as he peeled the shirt open.

  Alexei said something under his breath and then his big hands were splaying over them, catching up her nipples. He bent his head to take one into his mouth. His bristle-roughened chin abraded her sensitive skin as he suckled and fondled and nuzzled her, ignoring her efforts to touch him in kind until she was unbearably anxious to feel him inside her. She had not imagined in her wildest dreams she would feel this driven. It wasn’t in her nature, wasn’t in her—until now.

  She put her hands on his waistband but his hands were already there, pushing her away.

  ‘Not yet, dushka,’ he rasped, lying her back flat on the bed and kissing down her belly to the scrap of white lace she was wearing.

  She could feel her whole face suffusing in a hot blush of reaction. He edged off her knickers so slowly it felt like for ever. She was almost relieved when they were off. Then he went sliding to his knees on the floor, dragging her legs after him, so for a moment her knees hooked over his shoulders.

  Maisy stopped breathing. It was an unbearably intimate position—especially when she looked down—and she wriggled, a wave of embarrassment passing over her. Then she felt him begin to blow air over the moist core of her, and she bit the fleshy part of her hand to keep from crying out.

  Dan hadn’t done this. Dan hadn’t been anywhere near down there with his mouth. She’d read about it, but the reality was liquefying.

  When he parted her and she felt his fingers slide into her she keened, and when his tongue ran over her clitoris her hips began to undulate on the bed. She didn’t care how loud she was being. It didn’t take long until her inner walls were tugging on his fingers as he slid them out of her, and his tongue dragged over the sweet centre of her one last time before he stood up, unhooking his jeans with suddenly clumsy fingers.

  Maisy lay there watching him, her cheeks red, her eyes bright, her body unbelievably lush in his eyes. From her softly rounded arms to her breasts, the curve of her little waist to stunningly flared hips, the solidity of her female thighs and the taper of her calves down to her pretty feet. She was a pink-and-white study in eroticism, with the golden fire of her tumbled curls and the red-gold at the apex of her thighs a touch of genius.

  An artist would give a great deal to paint her like this; a man would give his soul just to look upon her. That he was getting it all sent Alexei into overdrive. He didn’t want to be out of control with her, but he could already feel himself slipping and sliding towards mindless pleasure. The things he could do to her—the places he could take her if she would let him. And he knew she would let him. And every primitive male instinct in his body charged to the fore.

  She sat up slowly, as if knowing not to rush her movements, and replaced his clumsy hands with her own, gently popping every last button.

  He had a look of incredible concentration on his face, and as his jeans hit the floor Maisy’s mouth made a perfect circle of wonder. This was not what she was used to. She ran a fingertip along the heavy veined shaft, wondering how on earth they were going to fit. He put his hand over hers and drew her fingers over him, around him, up and down, giving her voiceless instruction on how much pressure he needed, the speed.

  Just watching him made her tremble. The force of him, the weight of his desire was almost too much. Maisy knew she had just hit the deep end and could no longer feel the bottom. He unwrapped her hand but kept hold of it, anchoring her back on the bed, coming over her. He kissed her with the full force of his mouth, his hands sliding down under her lush behind to lift her and position her.

  ‘I want you under me the first time,’ he muttered into her mouth, as if she needed telling.

  Maisy felt him brush at her entrance, his blunt tip penetrating her. She reached up to stroke his face, wanting him to be looking at her, seeking a connection with him. He went a little further and then swore under his breath, pulled out of her, drew back, stood up.

  ‘Don’t move,’ he instructed.

  Alexei was tearing open a foil packet, and she watched as he dealt with the necessities, sheathing himself at speed, so that she was reminded he had done this far too many times. Whilst I’ve only done it once, she thought, her heart pounding.

  He hadn’t taken his eyes off her, and as he positioned himself over her again he paused to lean in and kiss her again—a kiss that told her he knew who she was.

  He sank slowly into her, moving with stealth, as if relishing the surprisingly tight clasp of her. Maisy began to lift her hips to coax him, bring him into her. Bring him home. Her eyes flared wide as he fully seated himself. His shoulders were braced above her, the muscles heavy across his shoulders and chest. He looked down at her with the intent expression of a man who knew absolutely what he was doing. He framed her face with one hand.

  ‘Okay, Maisy?’ His voice was strained, his whole body tensed above her.

  It was the second time he had asked her that, and she liked it. She liked it so much she thought her chest might explode with feeling. It showed he cared about her. In answer she wrapped her good arm around his strong neck and brought his mouth down to hers.

  Her body had taken over now, and that tiny doubt planted in that grimy room in Earls Court was exploded in the time it took Alexei to fully penetrate her. This was her man, the right man. He knew exactly what to do, and her body responded in kind. He drove her higher and higher, until she was hanging over the edge of a cliff with her fingertips. When she fell he came with her, and she clung tight to him as he thrust again and again, her brain on hiatus as she gave herself over to the sheer joy of being a part of him.

  When he sank forward, his head pressed to the curve of her neck, she held him as tightly as he would let her for as long as he would let her, and when he pulled out of her and rolled onto his back he rewarded her by taking her with him.

  ‘I don’t usually do this.’

  Alexei couldn’t think. But that wasn’t surprising, given he was still coming down the other side of an incredible orgasm. He knew his brain would flick the functioning switch in a minute, but right now all he could do was say her name—Maisy—and run his hand happily down the full round flank of her bottom and thigh. Her head lay on his chest—all those long ringlets cascading over them—her smooth thigh rested on his hair-roughened front quad muscle, and he could feel the hot wet centre of her pressed against him. There were so many things he wanted to do with her, and just anticipating the weeks to come made his blood hum.

  But she was saying something. Sh
e was sitting up, and managed to pull the sheet around her as he watched her. ‘What don’t you usually do?’ He didn’t want to move, but he wished she would drape herself back across him.

  ‘This. Have casual sex.’

  The words sounded a bit harsh. He was thinking incredible sex. Surely he’d covered all the bases? She’d definitely come apart in his arms. She should be purring like a kitten, but instead she was sitting there, huddling in a sheet, talking about casual sex.

  Then the other shoe dropped. Of course. She wanted to hear that he respected her, that they would be repeating this regularly—for a while—and then she’d drop the sheet and crawl back into his space.

  He could do all that. He would, once his brain clicked into gear. But some other part of him said, with a sincerity he didn’t recognise, ‘Nothing about this is casual, Maisy.’

  She had the softest eyes in the world, he thought, arrested for a moment by the expression on Maisy’s face. And somehow he had said exactly the right thing, because some of the tension had run out of her and she looked both shy and hopeful.

  How in the hell was she shy after what they’d just done? What they were going to do? With her face flushed, her round hazel eyes dilated, she looked like a woman who had enjoyed very satisfactory sex. She also looked a little embarrassed.

  It was sweet. He reached for her and she came to him, soft and warm and accommodating. Exactly what he wanted from her. He laid his hand between her legs, easing them apart as his fingers found her sensitive part and slid in and out of the hot wet core of her. His eyes never left the expression on her face as he built her orgasm out of the remains of what had gone before.