That left the bra. Plain white, made of thin stretchy fabric, it left her hard nipples clearly outlined. Her breasts were small, but her nipples peaked into tight buds that tempted his mouth.
“The bra,” he prodded. “I can see how hard your nipples are through that material. I want to see them bare.”
She looked flustered. “They’re small,” she said, gesturing at her breasts.
“They’re your breasts, which means until Sunday night I own them. I want them naked. I want to know what color your nipples are.”
Melinda was clearly embarrassed and uncomfortable, but just as clearly flushed with heat at his words. He could almost taste her arousal on his tongue. She reached behind herself awkwardly, unfastened the bra, then slowly slid the straps down her arms, one at a time, keeping her breasts covered as long as possible before drawing the bra away from her skin.
He took the bra away from her. “Stand up straight against the door. Don’t hunch over.”
She obeyed, looking at the ground. He stood looking down at her a long, silent moment.
“You have beautiful nipples, like little berries. They look sweet. Come and put one in my mouth so I can taste.”
Melinda moved towards him, took a deep breath, and leaned back from the waist to raise her breast towards his mouth, offering herself up. He inclined his head a little, but she had to stand up on tiptoe to brush her nipple against his lips.
Touching her only with his mouth, Drake licked at the little bud, then nipped lightly. He felt her shudder in response. He drew her nipple deeper into his mouth, flicking his tongue over the tip of her breast while he sucked at her.
Her hands came up to grip his waist, unable to hold the unnatural position without support.
He feasted on her while she jerked and quivered at the sensation. Then he raised his head. Air touched the wet peak and the tight little bud grew even harder.
“Give me the other one.”
The second nipple received the same treatment. From the little sounds she made and the way she shivered uncontrollably and sagged against him, boneless, Drake suspected he could bring her to orgasm by stimulating her sensitive breasts alone.
“Sweet,” he growled against her skin. “Now you’re going to leave them bare for me. I might want another taste.”
Drake raised his head and enjoyed the sight of her bare from the waist up, bending back to display herself for his pleasure.
He liked the visual contrast she made. Tangled hair, naked from the waist up, neat linen slacks unfastened at the waist, white panties peeking through the open vee of her zipper, down to sensible shoes. It was the most erotic sight he’d ever laid eyes on.
Years from now, the sight of white panties and librarian shoes would probably give him a hard-on he could break bricks with by triggering the atavistic memory of this moment.
He took her bra, shirt, and purse so she wouldn’t have anything to hide behind. He punched in the code to open the door, paused for the retinal scan, and pushed her into the house ahead of him.
Melinda hesitated slightly. “There’s nobody else here?”
He slid his hand down to cup her ass, pushing her farther into the entry. “Nobody but us. Nobody but me will see you half naked and hot.”
Flushed with equal amounts of embarrassment and arousal, she made an intoxicating sight. Drake decided he liked having her exposed for his enjoyment, and he liked knowing she was unaccustomed to a man’s eyes on her perky little bare breasts.
The stone floor of the entryway led into a large, open great room with a wood floor and a few scattered rugs. A center fireplace matched the stone of the entryway.
The wood and stone throughout the house were elemental, contrasting with the high-tech features built in. Hidden sensors monitored temperature and humidity. Tiny cameras disguised as knots in the wood paneling scanned windows and doorways. Both the internal and external security systems tied in to the computer that ran the house. His return had been noted when he’d keyed the door, and the system was now pumping cooling air to counteract the desert sun.
When he went to bed at night, a program executed to lower the lights and temperature for sleeping. When he woke in the mornings, the preprogrammed coffeepot would be signaled by the computer he’d dubbed Hal to brew. Another subsystem operation would restore daytime light levels, and the preferred daytime temperature program would run.
Drake wondered what Melinda would think if she knew about Hal watching her sleep and programming her preferred brew at the preferred strength. Assuming she didn’t suspect Hal’s existence already. Hal had different levels of awareness and he’d been given instructions to run on a privacy protocol while still monitoring her fully for security and comfort, but would she consider his presence a miracle or an invasion of privacy?
It occurred to Drake that after she left, he’d have her in Hal’s memory banks—what temperature she liked her shower set at and how hard she liked the water, or if she preferred a bath. What she liked to eat. Her beverage preferences.
Hal didn’t have categories for the details Drake currently wanted to learn.
How she looked in the throes of orgasm. If she would sprawl across the bed or curl in a corner of it in sleep. If she’d complain about sharing a bed with him or sleeping naked. If she would watch him with that light of sensual curiosity in her brown eyes while he did any damn thing he wanted to her and with her.
If she was a liar or a woman of her word who’d give him everything he demanded of her until the game ended.
If she was innocent, or if she knew about Hal and was going to make a second attempt to steal his secrets.
Time would tell, and if he couldn’t get all the questions he wanted answered in the time he had, he was incompetent. Drake was confident that his career change did not mean he’d gone soft or lost his instincts.
Soft was the last thing he felt when he looked at the woman he owned for the weekend.
She was far from relaxed. Between his hands, his mouth, and his motorcycle she was on the edge, primed for sex. She was on both his territory and unfamiliar ground and she was half naked, psychologically stripped of barriers of protection in an unknown situation.
All these factors made her highly susceptible, highly suggestible. Drake wondered how many scenarios were flitting through her mind and how long he should let her stew, wondering what he’d do next.
The brain was the primary organ of seduction. Hers was fully fixed on him at this moment. Criminal or not, she was not thinking about Hal right now. She was thinking about him. The hot flush on her bared skin, the way she kept raising and lowering her arms as if she wanted to cross them over her naked breasts but knew without being told he wouldn’t allow it, the stiffness in her movements and the way she stood told Drake exactly where her mind was.
Postponing things would give her time to forget how excited she was and work herself up into a state of nerves he’d have a hard time calming her down from. And calming her was not what he wanted to do. She did not make him feel gentle. She made him feel like a predator on the hunt.
“I think I want to see what else I own,” he mused out loud. She shivered and it took an effort to repress a smile at the way she reacted just to the idea.
“Take off your pants now.”
She stood still for a minute, thinking. “I have to take my shoes off first.”
“True. Do it facing me.”
She turned red, but bent down facing him as ordered. Her hair slid forward when she lowered her face to untie the shoes. She hid behind the curtain of hair a few seconds after she’d finished the task, hesitating.
“Your hair is blocking my view. Push it back over your shoulders.”
Melinda obeyed, raising her head to look somewhere in the vicinity of his stomach, not meeting his mirrored eyes. Her arms raised, sliding the hair back behind her shoulders. The movement arched her rib cage upward, emphasizing the attributes he wanted to see.
“Now stand up and take off your pants.”
He heard her sharp intake of breath. The pulse in her throat was fluttering like the frantic wings of a tiny, trapped bird. She stood up, still not looking directly at him, and let the pants he’d opened and made her leave that way slide down over her hips to pool at her feet.
“Step out of them. And take off your socks.”
She took a step forward to free herself from the pool of fabric and then slipped the socks off by raising her legs one at a time. Her movements were efficient, not designed to seduce like a striptease. Efficient and made somewhat awkward by her mixed arousal and embarrassment.
She wanted him to look. She wanted to hide.
She wanted him to touch her. She was going to jump out of her skin the instant he did.
Drake eyed her thoughtfully and decided to set her at ease somewhat by ordering her to initiate the touching.
“Come to me and unbutton my shirt.”
She came towards him with dragging steps, like a child trying to put off an undesirable chore, but the way she looked at him told him she found unbuttoning his shirt very desirable indeed.
Her hands were small and neat, like everything else about her. Trimmed and tidy nails, no glossy polish. Practical hands. They were as efficient with the buttons on his shirt as they had been with her shoes and socks, but they shook a lot more.
“Now spread the fabric open.”
Melinda complied and stopped there, not taking the initiative to go any further.
“And now you can slide it down my arms and pull the fabric out of my jeans.”
She endeavored to do this without actually touching his bare skin directly with her hands, which made it a slightly awkward business, but she did get the shirt off.
“You can drop it,” Drake said.
Melinda did.
“Place your palms on my stomach.”
She placed her open hands against his bared skin with a tentative pressure.
“Not like that. Firm. Lay your hands flat against my stomach, and let every inch of skin on them that can touch me make full contact.”
She rested her hands fully against him, pressing slightly into the wall of muscle.
“What does that feel like to you?” asked Drake.
“Warm. Smooth.”
“Do you like how it feels to touch me?”
Melinda gave a silent nod.
“Now you can bend down and unlace my boots.”
Her breathing sped up. “Are you going to ask me to take your pants off next?”
“No questions,” he growled softly.
She hesitated a long minute before she complied. She was efficient as usual with the laces and grommets and held each boot while he pulled his foot free, but she dragged it out, obviously stalling.
“Socks, too, I think,” Drake mused. “I like to feel the cold stone or the smooth, silky feel of the hardwood floor under my bare feet. And if I walk in the fur rug over there in front of the fireplace, I like to feel the thick fur against my toes.”
Her head jerked around to peer behind his legs at the fur rug, then up at him, the erotic possibility plain on her expressive face.
“Would you like it if I ordered you to lay down on that fur and roll across it, feeling it stroke your naked skin from head to toe?”
He was going to have to ease up. She’d hyperventilate if her breathing got any more rapid. But pushing her ever further past her limits had such an effect on both of them that he knew he was going to keep pushing to see how far they could both go.
“Do that,” Drake said. “Walk over there and lay down on your back on the fur.”
She obeyed him, still clad in those white panties and nothing else but a faint sheen of perspiration from the desert heat and desire.
She made quite a picture and he looked his fill. Big, wide brown eyes with the pupils dilated nearly to the rims of her irises, a silken length of hair over one shoulder, neat little breasts, hips rounded just enough, legs that weren’t overly long but as nicely proportionate as the rest of her. The white fur set off her pearly flesh and the contrast of textures was enticing all by itself. Soft fur, smooth flesh, silken panties that were visibly damp and clinging.
While he looked, Drake unsnapped his jeans with calm, controlled movements and stripped them away. His loose cotton boxers followed.
Her eyes got even bigger as she took in his naked body from head to toe, stopping on his swollen member that jutted straight out towards her.
“I am so hard for you,” he said conversationally.
He walked towards her, slow, deliberate, unhurried, the rest of his body preceded by the part that most obviously wanted to reach out and touch her.
When he reached her feet, Drake stopped, letting just their toes touch lightly as he stood over her.
“Now I think it’s time you showed me that pretty little pussy you have hiding behind those panties.”
His graphic words made her gasp.
“Take them off.”
Melinda did as he told her, but she closed her eyes tight as if not seeing him meant he couldn’t see her. Her movements were beyond awkward, hesitation in every line of her body, as she raised her hips slightly to push the panties down. Free of her hips, she tugged them down to her feet and off in one quick pull as if in a rush to get it over with since she couldn’t avoid it. She laid back down and kept her eyes closed, her face turned to the side.
“No, I can’t see what I want to see like that. Spread your legs open for me.”
She complied, parting her legs just enough to claim obedience but not wide. A tremor racked her from head to toe.
Drake pushed her legs a little further apart with one foot, stepped between her legs and knelt down. He blew a soft breath out, stirring the dampened curls above bared pink flesh.
She jerked at the sensation.
“What a sweet little pussy you’ve given me,” he said softly. “I think I should stroke it.”
He suited action to words, pausing to strip away his riding half-gloves first. He closed his hands over her legs and ran them up the satiny length to meet at the juncture of her thighs. The tips of his fingers from both hands just brushed against her dewy heat. Both hands slid up then in a long slow petting that stroked along the outer edge with fingertips, trailing her own moisture to slick over her sensitive nub.
Melinda’s breath was coming in gasping gulps now.
“Open your eyes. Look at me.”
She turned her head back to him first, then opened her eyes. They were wide with panic.
“I won’t hurt you.”
Drake kept one hand on her quivering damp flesh and used the other to tug off his mirrored sunglasses and lay them aside. “Does that make you feel better?”
The tip of her tongue touched her upper lip, revealing nerves, but she nodded. “A little. I can see your eyes now.”
“And you like to see a man’s eyes the first time he fucks you blind?” Drake asked, his voice as calm as if he was asking her to hand him the salt over a meal.
She reacted just the way he expected, blushing even darker red, closing her eyes again.
“Do you have to talk like that?”
“Like what?”
“Those words.” She didn’t say them herself. She didn’t need to. They both knew exactly what words were bothering her.
“Which words?” The devil inside was driving him again. Drake wanted to hear her use those words.
“Those words. You know.”
“I don’t know. You’ll have to get specific if there is some particular word or words you don’t want me to use. Otherwise, I will just continue to offend your delicate sensibilities out of ignorance, I’m afraid.”
While he spoke, Drake deliberately stroked a finger the length of her moist cleft, up and down, up and down. “You are so hot and wet. I can’t wait to fuck you.”
“That’s one right there.”
“You?”
Melinda drew a deep breath. “No, not ‘you’. Fuck.” The way she shaped her
prim mouth around the word nearly made him laugh, as if the shape and sound of it alone might turn her into a fallen woman.
“You don’t like it when I tell you I want to ram my hard cock into your wet pussy and fuck you blind?” Drake asked.
She jolted at the words. “No.”
“You’re pretty wet for a woman who doesn’t like those words.”
She didn’t say anything to that.
Charlene TEGLIA - Dangerous Games(ellora) Page 4