Allie wanted to close her eyes as Cam flipped the light switch, remaining in the darkness where anything seemed possible. But she was also dying to see what lay in store…for them both.
Instead of harsh lights, a dim, rich glow filled the small bungalow as gas lamps leapt to life. There was a sconce just beside them next to the door, and one somewhere behind Cam as well. There was just enough light so that when she turned her head toward the door, she could make out the small, delicately hand-painted sign on the door.
“Victorian Villa,” she read.
Cam saw it the same time she did, then looked back at her with a fake pout. “No whips and chains.”
“Don’t be so sure, the Victorians could be an…interesting lot.”
Cam pulled her wrists down, still holding them in the span of his one large hand. He massaged her palms and fingers as the blood flowed back into them, then tugged her away from the wall. “Let’s find out what we have here.”
He turned them both around at the same time, and she wasn’t sure who gasped first. The small round room was a study in Victorian lace. The bed dominated it, sitting right in the middle. It was a small, but commanding four-poster that sat so high off the floor there were stools on either side for help in climbing up on it. It was covered in a downy coverlet with mounds of lacy pillows, all pristine white, as was the draping that hung from the posts, like misty clouds.
“Definitely not leather and whips,” Allie murmured, wondering what Cam thought of this ultra-feminine décor. The sole nightstand had a lace cover and held only the gas lamp and nothing else. The sconces on the wall barely emitted enough light to show what else might lie about for them to employ in their enjoyment, but it looked as if the elaborate bed was to be its own toy. The visual of Cam, all big and tawny gold, reclining in the midst of that sea of white linen and lace, was a bigger turn-on than she’d expected.
“Think you can still fulfill your promise to me here?”
When he shifted his gaze to her, she realized he wasn’t the least put off by the décor. His eyes all but blazed into hers, his grin downright carnal. “Oh, I think I can elicit a scream…or three.”
She shivered, then almost laughed herself. In glee. She wanted to pinch herself to make sure this was real. Considering how the evening had started, this was turning out to be way too good to be true. She spent another second or two wondering if she would be enough for him, enough to convince him not to end this when the night itself ended. He tugged her toward the bed and she decided right then and there to be whatever she had to be in order to keep him around. At least until the sea taxi arrived to take them all back to wherever they came from.
Her body and mind both instinctively rejected the idea of letting him simply walk away from her. But that was part of the allure of this place, right?
She refused to answer that on the grounds that it would make her crazy if she let herself go there. Enjoy what you’ve got, Allie, while you’ve got it. It sure as hell was more than she’d ever hoped for.
Cam paused beside the footstool. “Climb up onto the bed,” he instructed.
Allie felt the buzz of his intently spoken words hum through her entire body. She liked hearing his deep voice issue those oh-so-velvety commands. Maybe it was because she already knew he was a Mr. Nice Guy at heart that she was able to trust him to guide her. And maybe it was because she hoped to be the one to make him be Mr. Bad Boy.
Whatever the case, she stepped onto the stool.
“Wait,” he said, tugging her back. When she looked questioningly at him, he said, “You still have far too much covering your delectably pale skin.”
She’d been self-conscious about her pasty white skin since she got here. She’d hoped to hit a tanning salon before coming, or at least use one of those tanning creams but with the merger going through had never found the time. She was probably the only woman in California with no visible tan.
Then he stroked a fingertip along her collarbone and said, “It’s so creamy, so pure, I want to lap up every inch of it.”
One look into his eyes proved he meant it. And suddenly she felt…well, if not beautiful, at least desirable. And that was more than enough.
“I want to see every inch of it,” he said, then let go of her and moved back a foot or so away from her, leaving her all but swaying with one foot still perched on the small, padded stool. “Take off your clothes, Allie. Take off that skirt and peel those ridiculous panties down your sweet hips.”
Allie had never undressed for a man before in her life. Sure, she’d had sex with the lights on, but undressing had either been a clumsy, groping affair…or done in the bathroom while her partner undressed in the bedroom.
He’s already seen most of you, she reminded herself. And yet as she felt along her waist for the knot that held her sarong skirt up, she couldn’t stop the fine trembling of her fingers…or of the muscles in her inner thighs.
“Undo the knot, Allie.” He looked from her fingers, to her face, and continued the dual attention as she fought with the damp fabric. The water had made the knot so bound up there was no way it was coming loose. Her brief visual of undoing the knot and sexily flinging the sarong away fled. Well, doesn’t this figure?
He took a step toward her, but she held up her hand. No, dammit, she wasn’t going to let him help her get around this. This was why she was here, to learn how to handle exactly this type of situation with feminine finesse. There had to be a way to get this thing off without—
She smiled then, perhaps a bit wickedly as the solution came to her…and had double the pleasure of seeing his eyes widen a bit as she regained her confidence in herself. She turned just slightly, so he could see her hips…and that sweet backside he’d mentioned…and slowly began to nudge the sarong down over her hips.
She tried the best she could to dip her hips and roll them, hoping it looked suggestive. Her panties got caught up in the fabric and were being pulled off with the sarong, but she didn’t pause. They were going to have to come off anyway, she told herself, turning so her back was more fully toward him. She continued to push and slide, moving her hips as she did. Praying he wasn’t trying not to laugh.
Then the fabric was past the swell of her hips and dropped to the floor. She stepped gingerly out of them, hoping she didn’t trip, but kept her back to him, wondering what he was thinking. Then she felt him walk up behind her and it took everything she had to keep still.
“You’re perfect,” he said, his voice tight and almost raw with tension.
She let out the breath she hadn’t been aware she’d been holding, but resisted the urge to melt back against him. It was a heady thing, turning a man on like this. She liked it. A lot.
“Hardly perfect,” she managed.
She felt the warm tip of one blunt-edged finger brush the nape of her neck. He trailed it all the way down her spine, undoing her self-control as easily as he might have undone a zipper. She shuddered and was forced to clamp her thighs together against the aching need that pooled there.
His finger continued past the base of her spine, down along the curve between her buttocks. The feel of his finger, so close…drenched her further.
“Step up onto the stool,” he commanded hoarsely.
She no longer questioned this, or him. She wanted whatever he wanted to do to her, with her. She stepped onto the stool.
“Brace your palms on the bed.”
She did, and in doing so had to push her cheeks ever so slightly toward him. He ran his fingertip again along the dip between her cheeks, causing her to convulsively flex the muscles between her legs.
“Move your feet apart. Just a little.”
She could feel his breath on the skin of her lower back. She closed her eyes, intent on all the things he was making her feel. Somehow she’d thought facing him, stark naked, would make her feel the most vulnerable, especially when he was still dressed. However, exposing herself to him this way was far more intimate, far more vulnerable than she could have ever imagined. And it thrilled her no end.
She moved her feet apart.
Again, she felt his fingertips trace down along her buttocks, but with her feet slightly apart, she couldn’t clench as tightly against the need. It left her open there, and aching, and so wet she didn’t think she could stand it a moment longer.
She wanted to scream at him to move his fingers lower, to touch her there, to give her some relief. But his touch was removed once again. She moaned and heard a similar noise come from him.
Maybe she should beg him, she thought, maybe that’s what he wanted. She was certainly willing to; at this point all she cared about was getting him to put an end to this ache he’d built up inside her.
“I said I’d enter you tonight,” he said roughly, before she could do anything.
She quivered. “Yes,” she managed. Dear God, yes.
He traced several fingertips along her buttocks now and she had to fight every urge she had to keep still. Again his fingers left her just before touching her where she most wanted to be touched. She moaned again.
“Would you like that?”
“Yes,” she said tightly, wanting to scream.
He shifted so he was beside her. “Look at me.”
She turned her head and watched him put one of his own fingers into his mouth and wet it.
She moaned again, softly. “Please.”
His eyes glittered. “Please what, Allie?” he said when he freed his finger, now all wet and shiny. “What would you like me to do with this finger?” He wet it again, then slid two fingers in his mouth.
She groaned now and twitched hard. “Dear God.”
He turned so that he could continue to hold her gaze, and drew his wet fingers along her buttocks. “Tell me,” he said, as his fingers went lower…and lower.
“I want—” She gasped and shuddered against the lightest brush of his fingertips against her wetness. “Please, do it. Now,” she begged, beyond caring.
“Do what, Allie?” He leaned forward and ran his tongue along the shell of her ear. “And say my name when you tell me what you want.”
His fingers were right there, poised to do exactly what she so desperately wanted them to do. She swallowed against the tight knot in her throat, wanting badly to just wiggle back onto his fingers and be done with it. But she couldn’t deny the dark thrill this game gave her, and she knew then she would play along until she’d seen it all the way through. “I want…” His pupils shot wide when she stopped to lick her suddenly dry lips. And it was seeing his need, clearly matching her own, that gave her the will power to do what she so badly wanted to do. “I want you to push your fingers inside me.” She turned her head just slightly so she could look directly into his eyes. “All the way inside me. Cam.”
He groaned and in the next instant, she was filled with him. No gentle slide, no torturously slow entrance. His fingers filled her full and yes, she did scream. In complete, saturated pleasure. She collapsed onto her elbows as he slid them back out. “No,” she gasped, pushing her hips up, seeking, wanting.
“Again?”
“Please God, yes.” She’d been so close, so close. She’d barely acclimated to the shock of his entrance to get beyond that to the climax that was just right there.
“You’re so wet for me,” he said, and she could hear him fighting his own needs to keep his voice steady.
The power that gave her had her lifting her hips again. “Fill me again, Cam,” she ordered.
“Oh, you’ll be filled.”
She shuddered again, wanting to lower her breasts to the soft linen and rub them against the downy fabric.
But then he was moving behind her and she could no longer see what he was doing.
“Cam?”
Then his hands were on her hips and she sighed. Oh thank God, he was finally going to enter her. For real. She wanted him to fill her up, and from what she’d felt earlier when he’d pressed every hard inch of himself against her, she knew he’d fill her and then some. Sweet Jesus, it was going to be glorious.
“Lean farther over,” he told her.
Yes, yes, anything you say, just fill me up. Now.
She felt something soft, downy, like hair, brush over her buttocks. She held her breath, tried not to squirm as she waited to feel the velvety warmth of him press between her legs. Instead she gasped when his wet tongue brushed over her instead. She swallowed hard and gritted her teeth against a long, keening moan when he flicked his tongue over her again. And again.
She moved against him when he continued to lap at her, trying in vain to push down enough so that he’d finally, blessedly take her clitoris between his lips and drive her screaming over the edge.
He was moaning now, too, and she could no longer keep her hips from bucking back against him. “Jesus God, yes,” she panted as his tongue dipped ever closer. Then he was gripping her hips and lifting her forward onto the bed, rolling her onto her back before she knew what he was about.
Her legs dangled over the side of the bed as he knelt on the small footstool, his head positioned right between her spread thighs.
“Hold on,” he told her, looking up at her over the flat, creamy expanse of her belly and breasts. “Grab the sheets and hold on.”
She did, her head lolling back, then thrashing side to side and he blew a warm breath over her quivering, wet skin. She was all but whimpering at him to put his mouth back on her, trying to lift her hips, but he kept her firmly braced on the bed. “Please,” she whispered hoarsely.
“I’ll take you there,” he promised.
“Now,” she commanded.
“Patience,” he said, sounding a bit rough himself.
“Cam,” she warned.
He chuckled then, and she should have hated him for it, or herself for not caring that he was making her beg. But the fact was she’d never been so primed in her entire life and she was loving every single second of this torture.
Then he lapped at her, just one quick lick that made her shriek.
“Again,” she ordered. “Slower, longer.” She could have sworn she heard him smile.
“Not so shy now,” he said.
“Don’t…be…smug,” she ground out, then gasped again when he brushed his tongue over her. “Dear God, you’re killing me.”
“Then we’re both going to die very happy,” he said, and buried his tongue inside her with one, bold thrust.
Her hips pitched violently off the bed as she climaxed instantly, violently. And he was right, he’d made her come screaming. But he didn’t stop there. He continued to flick his tongue back and forth over her as she twitched and thrashed beneath him.
Then, just when she thought she might pass out from the torturous pleasure, he slowly began suckling her, and simultaneously slid one finger inside her.
Again she was ripped over the edge, again she screamed. Again she begged him for more.
Her entire body was so sensitized by now she couldn’t lie still. Her legs trembled, her hands grasped convulsively at the coverlet as he continued with his tongue…and stroking her with his finger.
“Move on me,” he said, lifting his weight from her.
She pushed on his finger, moving her hips, clenching as tightly as she could on him, but she was so wet. So amazingly, gloriously wet, it was hard to grasp him tightly. He solved that by sliding another finger inside her. She groaned and bucked even harder. Then he trailed his other hand up over her abdomen…and lightly pinched her nipple.
And she screamed again as another climax was torn from her, and she came once more against his mouth.
“Enough,” she gasped. “I can’t—can’t—”
“Oh, yes you can,” he growled. He gripped her hips and shoved her back across the bed, then crawled on top of her.
She’d never wanted so badly to be proven wrong. She was all but clutching at him with her hands and heels, pulling him down on top of her, wanting—wanting more badly than she’d ever wanted anything—to feel him push, no thrust—hard—inside her. Over. And over.
She had no idea when he’d undressed and felt a fleeting disappointment that she hadn’t gotten to watch. Later, she thought, almost mindless with need now. I’ll make him strip for me next time. Make him. Yes, she thought wildly, next time it would be her turn. And there would be a next time.
“Now, for God’s sake, do it now!”
But he braced himself just over her, keeping just out of reach of her pistoning hips.
“Look at me, Allie.”
She swerved her gaze blindly to his. “What?”
“I wanted to watch your eyes when I do—this.” And he thrust fully into her with one long groaning slide.