Part 3 (1/2)
A long quiver of antic.i.p.ation runs through me as he grips the neckline of my nightgown. With his eyes locked on mine, he slowly pulls the garment down to below my naval. My wrists are caught in the sleeves, trapped against my hips. I feel the rain cool against my back, sizzling away the heat pouring from me, from him, from us.
Looking down at my exposed flesh, he groans. ”You are so beautiful.”
Releasing my braid, he wraps his fingers around the base of my breast, his long fingers squeezing lightly, caressing, and lowers his head. I feel the rasp of his stubble against my skin in the moment before he sucks my nipple into his mouth, swipes his tongue over me--once, twice--and sucks again hard.
A cry of mingled shock and pleasure erupts from me. I grab hold of his hair with both hands and pull. He releases me but only for a moment. Covering my breast with his roughened palm, he circles it against the hypersensitive nipple as he takes the other into his mouth and subjects it to the same exquisite torment. I writhe against the column as all thought of trying to stop him vanishes.
Abruptly, he lifts his head. What I see in his eyes should frighten me but I'm beyond that, driven by need for this man that eclipses all else. My throat is so tight that only a whisper escapes me.
”Please...”
For a moment, I am terrified that he will not respond, that he only means to toy with me, proving his mastery and leaving me to suffer for defying him. But if any such thought has occurred to him, he is beyond acting on it. Instead, he makes a low, guttural sound and bends, tucking an arm under my knees and lifting me effortlessly.
A few quick strides and we are in the golden room. He kicks the doors closed behind us, carries me over to the bed and drops me flat on my back. Before I can draw breath, he comes down on top of me, kissing me deeply if swiftly, his mouth trailing from mine down my body until he is stopped by the nightgown bunched around my hips. Sliding his hands under me, squeezing the cheeks of my derriere, he pulls the gown the rest of the way off.
He is still wearing the pajama bottoms but even so the combined sensation of his skin against mine with his weight and strength controlling me is more than I can bear. Desperate for what I can barely glimpse, I struggle to move as my hands push against his shoulders.
”Please...Ian...please!”
I'm not resisting...exactly. But I need...something...to touch him...to have some control over what is happening to me...
Against my throat, he murmurs, ”Another time, luscious, I'll give you free rein but not now.”
Before I can more than dimly realize what he intends, he grasps my discarded nightgown and coils the fabric between his hands, pulling it taut. An instant later, my arms are stretched above my head, my wrists secured to a column of the bed.
The sudden crash of reality with the fantasy image I had minutes before on the balcony sends a surge of panic through me. I cry out at my own helplessness and begin to struggle in earnest.
But not for long. His breath warm against my skin, he murmurs, ”Easy, just breathe, Amelia. Breathe.”
Gasping, I try to do as he commands. He smiles at my effort. ”Good girl, so good.”
His approval sends another deep quiver of pleasure through me that persists as he spreads my legs, bending them at the knees so that I am suddenly open and fully exposed to him. I feel the heat of his scrutiny in this most intimate place before he lowers his head between my thighs, the rough silk of his cheeks nuzzling me.
He looks up and his eyes meet mine down the arc of my body.
”If you touch me, I'll lose it,” he says, almost apologetically for what he is denying us both. His voice rasps against my skin. ”Even so this time is going to be fast.”
The broad flat of his tongue lashes out, lapping my most sensitive flesh from top to bottom again and again in long, firm strokes before the tip suddenly plunges, swirling into the source of the wetness coming from deep inside me. The pleasure is unbearable. I writhe under him, moaning frantically.
In moments, I am on the edge of something agonizing yet exquisite that I cannot resist and desperately need. It is so close, so very close-- I mewl in protest as he stops suddenly and slides up my body. Teasing the tip of my tongue with his, he says, ”Taste yourself, beautiful. You are so d.a.m.n delicious.”
I all but buck off the bed as a hot, slightly salty flavor fills me. His hands on my hips press me down again. My breath is coming in sobs. I'm afraid that I'm going to black out when his thumbs spread me and his tongue finds the swollen nub where suddenly all the nerve endings in my body seem to come together. At the same time, he plunges two fingers into me, pressing against a spot of exquisite sensitivity that I hadn't known existed. At that touch, I contract around him in a long, rippling sensation of pure, unleashed ecstasy.
Distantly, I hear myself scream. Hear Ian, as well, as he groans, ”f.u.c.k, you are so hot!”
His weight suddenly lifts from me. I force my lids open even as muscles at my core continue to spasm. He is standing beside the bed, staring down at me, with a look of fierce triumph. Quickly, he strips off his pajama bottoms.
At the sight of him, I bite down hard enough on my lower lip to draw blood. He is a tall, broad man and it seems as though everything about him is similarly proportioned. I entertain a moment of doubt but it vanishes when he comes down on top of me again.
Feeling him along every inch of me without any remaining barriers is more than I can bear but he still isn't done tormenting me. Taking his length in hand, he draws it up and down along my cleft, the velvety tip rubbing over my swollen c.l.i.toris. The sensation is too intense. Tears flow from the corners of my eyes.
”I can't,” I sob. ”Not again!”
Abruptly, he reaches up and frees my wrists. His voice is gruffly tender as he says, ”Yes, you can. Put your arms around my neck.”
I obey and am rewarded by the sudden thrust of his c.o.c.k as every slick, hard inch fills and stretches me. The small flash of pain is gone as quickly as I perceive it. But Ian curses under his breath and goes still.
”No!” He can't stop, I won't let him. My hips arch upward, demanding, taking-- A harsh groan rips from him. He begins to move again, his fingers digging into my bottom, raising me to meet his thrusts. An incandescent flare of pleasure uncoils inside me where his shaft touches that ultra sensitive place to such effect that I instantly contract around him. My sudden acute response doesn't go unnoticed. He pulls out almost entirely but before I can find the breath to protest, he returns, giving me just a few inches at a time until...
As he thrusts against the same spot again, wild, animalistic sounds erupt from me. From above, I hear a very satisfied male voice.
”That's it, baby, come for me.”
I am transformed into pure sensation. Thought, reason, doubt, even need vanish. Only ecstasy exists, growing and growing inside me until it crests at a peak of incandescent bliss beyond anything I have yet experienced. Ian's final thrusts and his own throbbing release hold me poised there until at last I am gone, hurtled into oblivion.
Chapter Five.
Amelia Sunlight streaming through the French doors, creeping across the ivory and vermilion rug, inching up from the foot of the bed wakes me. I open my eyes.
The storm has pa.s.sed but the air remains charged with the electrical scent of ozone. Without warning, my body stretches, toes curling toward the foot of the bed, arms reaching until my fingers brush the column where a few hours ago my wrists were tied. A slow smile overtakes me.
Oh, my.
Hard on it comes shock. Did we...did I? The echoes of pleasure deep within my body compete with a lingering soreness to provide the answer. I am riveted by the memory of pleasure so intense that it floods me both with yearning and a deep, terrifying sense that I have stepped into a world I am unprepared to deal with.
If Ian were there to gather me in his arms, stroke me, soothe me, everything might be all right. But I am alone. Slowly, I force myself to breathe, seeking a center of calm. I have no choice but to regain control. This is, after all, the morning when I have been promised answers.
With that in mind, I abandon the bed and head for the shower. I keep it cold and set the jets to a punis.h.i.+ng hardness. The shock of icy water hitting along every inch of my body isn't enough to banish memories of the night before but it does hold them at a distance.
Out of the shower, I undo my braid, give my head a vigorous shake, take a few swipes with the brush and leave my hair loose. In the mirror, I can see the untamed waves falling midway down my back. They will have to do.
In the dressing room, I rummage through rows of garments for day and evening, each more gorgeous than the last, before finding what feels right. Minutes later, I'm pulling on the ankle-high leather boots I've picked to go with soft pleated chamois pants and a tailored natural cotton s.h.i.+rt.
I've deliberately chosen an outfit that I think is plain and practical for what I expect to be a serious discussion. But a glance in the dressing room mirror makes me reconsider.
The pants hug the curve of my derriere and make my legs look even longer than they are. The dark leather belt emphasizes my narrow waist while the cotton s.h.i.+rt reveals more of the shape of my b.r.e.a.s.t.s than I'd realized when it was still on the hanger.
I shake my head, reminding myself that I really must find out who chose the contents of the dressing room and for that matter, everything in the golden room.
I'm bending down to fasten my boots when I notice a small gold plaque set into the wall near me, positioned so discreetly as to be concealed from any casual observer. It strikes me as a strange place to put such a thing. Peering closer, I make out a single line of elegant, cursive script etched into the gold: ”The Cabinet of Secret Delights”.
How odd. The dressing room is filled with built-in racks, drawers, and shelves but I don't see anything that could be called a cabinet. For anyone who enjoys beautiful clothes, and I've discovered that I do, the room contains many delights but 'secret'? That doesn't seem to fit.