JORDON INHALED THE SWEETNESS OF THE ESTELA flower lacing the air, its magical scent the only urging she needed to act, to show her submission to the man called Amador. She went into action, never looking at Olivia or seeking her friend’s approval. Perhaps Jordon feared one look at her friend would deliver them both to sanity and reality, would root them both in the logic and conservative actions of two scientists, rather than the desires of two women. She didn’t want conservative, didn’t want logic—Jordon wanted fantasy. And so she acted, moving forward and falling to her knees in submission before the dark-haired warrior meant to be her protector, acclaimed master of estela, which translated into master of her desires.
“Teach me,” she whispered, her hands settling on his strong thighs. His muscles flexed beneath her palms, and electricity raced up her fingers, her arms, her shoulders.
Jordon’s eyes locked with Amador’s darker ones; the connection sent a sizzle of awareness through her body as if she had been touched—everywhere. Jordon sucked in a breath, shocked by the unnatural reaction to this man; her nipples tightened, her mind conjuring images of his lips brushing them, his tongue teasing them. Her breasts grew fuller, her core aching and wet. How was this possible? Was the incense of the flower enough to send her senses into overdrive, or was it simply this man called Amador? In a far corner of her mind she reminded herself how deprived she was, how needy. It had been two years since her divorce—two years of abstinence. Sex had seemed complicated. Until now. This was the perfect deliverance from a complicated past.
Someone offered Amador a crock. Jordon didn’t look away from him to see who, nor did she care. She was lost in the deep, dark depths of this man’s eyes, the fantasy of where they would deliver her—where he would deliver her.
Amador eased the bowl into her hand, wrapping her fingers around it as he covered her hand with his. “Drink,” he ordered, his English laden with a sexy accent. With words low and resonant, he added, “Let the flower take you beyond your inhibitions, beyond your fears,” and his words sent a shiver down her spine.
Fear. Was that in her eyes? Fear? Is that what he saw when he looked at her? She wasn’t afraid. Was she? Was there fear behind her charge forward into submission? Had she denied herself satisfaction because of fear? No. She wouldn’t go there—to a past bad relationship and a lot of pain she had buried deep below the surface. So why was she even thinking about it now? The here and now was about science, not emotion, not her life. Jordon shoved aside the personal thoughts. She didn’t want to think about the past, or even the future—only the opportunity the present moment offered her, the secrets of estela.
“Drink,” her warrior urged again, gently prodding with his sensual voice, lifting the cup to her lips.
Yes, please, she screamed in her mind, doing as he ordered. She sipped the sweet beverage, hungry for exploration, for the answers to the questions burning in her mind about estela, about herself. Hungry for the satisfaction her body craved already with a mere inhalation of the flower’s incense.
Seconds later, contents of the cup emptied, Jordon gasped as Amador pushed to his feet and scooped her into his strong arms, that broad chest like a wall against her body.
“What are you doing?” she whispered, barely able to find her voice, her arm wrapped around his neck, his dark hair tickling her cheek.
“Protecting you,” he declared. “I thought you would be more comfortable elsewhere when the heat consumes you.”
“Heat?” she questioned. “I don’t feel hot. I feel—” Suddenly heat rushed through her veins. She could barely breathe for the intensity of it. Her skin tingled. Everything tingled. “Oh, God.” She had on too many clothes. Needed them off. She reached for her shirt, tried to tug it off but couldn’t. “I feel, I need, I—”
“I look forward to finding out exactly what you need, cariña,” Amador murmured, continuing forward, taking her into a room she barely glanced at—a fire burning somewhere near, a bed, chairs, a room that looked nothing like a cavern. Nothing like anything but a pleasure palace. “We are here, Jordon, to the place where you will discover your every desire.”
She blinked, the sound of her name on his lips erotic, enticing. This man got to her in a big way, this stranger, this warrior. The idea of having a protector was arousing—that he was her protector, her pleasure giver and taker.
“Did I tell you my name?” she asked, realizing she wasn’t sure she had. Her mind was foggy with lust, though, and the question was dismissed as soon as she spoke it, the demands of her body taking over.
Jordon curled into him as he carried her; this sexy warrior meant to satisfy her, and that is exactly what she wanted—satisfaction. The desire to touch and be touched controlling her now, ruling her mind and body.
Her hands traveled Amador’s perfect body as he took several more steps, his sleek dark skin feeding her need, taut muscle flexing under her command. “What I need is you,” she whispered, her gaze traveling to his neck, his lips, meaning those words in a soul-deep way. He called to her beyond understanding. The reason was unimportant. The demand imperative. “I must kiss you. And touch you. I need—”
But she never finished the sentence. Suddenly she was in the center of a massive round bed. She scurried to sit, her fingers curling behind her into the black silk covering of the massive mattress beneath her. Two gorgeous naked men appeared by her side, knees on the mattress. There was no time to think, hardly time to register Amador standing at the end of the bed watching. The men ripped her clothes away. Somewhere in a far corner of her mind she was aware of candles flickering, lining the ceilings, the floors, lighting the erotic paintings that clung to the walls in bright, brilliant colors. Except these things, these images were distant; her burn, her ache, was ever-present.
She wanted to scream out and say she wanted Amador, and him alone, but her body betrayed that inner thought. The touch of these two men’s hands on her skin inflamed her with desire. She was naked, with one naked man behind her, one in front, their hands exploring, caressing. They touched her everywhere, yet she couldn’t feel enough of them. She arched into them, begged and pleaded for more. Her skin sizzled with each touch; her nipples ached as fingers teased them, tongues flicked the hardened peaks. And her core dripped, clenched, ached. Her legs spread, her fingers touching her sensitive flesh, her eyes seeking out those of Amador. “You,” she managed to whisper urgently as one of the men tweaked her nipple with his teeth. “Not them.”
Amador stared at her several seconds, his gaze traveling her body, stroking her with heat before finding her gaze again. Holding her stare, he spoke. “Come here,” he ordered, still at the end of the bed.
The men sauntered away from her as if the words Amador spoke had staked a claim—his eyes certainly did. They showed possessiveness, ownership. And it aroused Jordon. Aroused her to the point of damn near making her orgasm just thinking about him taking her.
Jordon had always fantasized about a strong, dominant man in bed, one who knew how to take a woman in all the right ways. But until now, she’d never given herself to one, fearful he’d take more than she was willing to offer. Here and now, though, there was no denying her wants and needs. Nor was there any fear of facing the morning and finding that her submission had come with a price. Desire, perhaps desire driven by estela, demanded she submit as she wished to. It demanded she allow herself to live the fantasy of being submissive. She’d felt it from the moment she fell to her knees before Amador. He was her master of the moment. Jordon swallowed hard, excitement lodging her breath in her throat.
Slowly Jordon repositioned herself on the bed, crawling toward Amador, then rising to her knees in front of him. She resisted the urge to touch him, her instincts telling her she must wait.
He stared at her, his dark eyes intense, hot. “Tell me what you want.”
“You,” she whispered, unable to find her voice, desire heavy in her limbs. “I want you.”
A long pause, then, “I’m not sure you’re ready for what I require of you.” His eyes brushed her nipples, and her core spasmed in response.
“I am,” she insisted, wanting him, needing him, ready to beg, which was beyond what she would expect of herself, but no less true. In a stronger voice she repeated her declaration. “I am.”
He studied her for a few long, intense moments. “Turn around and face forward.” Jordon hesitated, a tiny slice of her mind hanging on to the need for control. Amador’s expression softened. His hand caressed her cheek, and goose bumps shivered their way up her spine in reaction. “You are truly strong, cariña. Estela is powerful, yet your fears still linger. Release them. Release them to me. Trust me. I will not hurt you.”
She let out a shaky breath; his touch was gentle, contrasting with his powerful body, his warriorlike appearance. Jordon did, indeed, trust him, she realized. Why? She didn’t know. She didn’t give trust easily. It scared her that she wanted to now, but it was also extremely erotic to give herself so completely to a stranger.
Without a word, she acted, turning to do as ordered, giving him her back. She heard movement behind her, the swish of cloth, and Jordon knew he was now naked; her mind conjured images of what he must look like, aroused, ready for her. Images that had her dying to turn around, to see for herself.
But before she could cave in to that desire, he was there, his hands on her waist, pulling her back against his body, settling his cock between her legs, his hands palming her breasts. Jordon whimpered at the feel of his body, his touch. Her body arched into him. His lips brushed her neck, and then his teeth.
“Lean forward on your hands and knees,” he ordered, his voice low and taut.
“I can’t,” she replied, not able to bring herself to pull away from him.
“You can and you will,” he quickly said, his voice terse now as he pressed her forward, insistence reinforced with words and actions. When she was on all fours, his hand settled on her lower back. “Do not move until I give permission.” His hands slid over her backside, palming it, possessive aggression in his touch. “Understand?”
“Yes,” she hissed as he pressed her thighs farther apart, his fingers probing between her legs, teasing the sensitive flesh there, rewarding her for submission. Seconds later the long, hard length of him was there, stroking her, teasing her, but never giving her what she wanted—him inside her. Yet release crept up on her; her body threatened to orgasm without him entering her.
As if he sensed how close she was, he pulled back, taking her away from the ultimate sensation she sought, only a moment before she tumbled over into it. “Amador, please!” she cried out, trying to turn.
His hands held her hips, keeping her in place. “Patience, cariña. The best comes to those who wait.”
But she needed to come, with an urgency that hurt—the ache of desire thrusting through her, as she wanted his cock to. She would have said as much, but he was suddenly on top of her, pushing her flat against the mattress as he settled carefully over her, framing her with just the right amount of delicious weight.
His lips were near her ear. “Is this what you want?” he demanded, his erection sliding along the wet folds of her body.
“Yes,” she gasped, trying to lift her hips upward, trying to make him come to her. “Inside me. I want you inside me.”
“Soon,” he promised, his hand sliding down her ribs, over her waist, flattening on one butt cheek.
“Now,” she demanded. “Now.”
But he didn’t give her what she wanted. Instead, he slid back and forth along her core, teasing and teasing. She moved against him, wild with the burn, squirming, aching, begging. And finally—finally—he gave in to her pleading. Amador slid inside her with one hard, deep thrust, burying his cock inside her.
She cried out with the joy of being filled, with the relief that lasted only seconds. For one need turned to another—simple penetration wasn’t enough. Nor was it for him apparently. He answered her silent cries for movement with a hard pumping of his hips. Over and over, he pounded into her, driving his erection to the hilt, driving her pleasure to the edge and then tumbling her into release. Without warning, her body clenched around his cock, spasms ripping through her with more force than she thought possible, pleasure hitting nerve endings she didn’t know existed. Even her fingertips tingled.
When her body calmed, she went limp. Amador responded by turning her over and kissing her, a seduction in and of itself. For one minute she was satisfied; the next, aroused and ready again. It seemed she hadn’t gotten enough of Amador. And as he slid back inside her, still erect, she was relieved to know he, too, desired more.
The pleasure was intense, overwhelming, unbelievable. How could anyone get enough of something this good? How could anyone say no to this kind of pleasure? If she had doubted estela’s power, she no longer did. Estela, and Amador, had her attention…and her full submission.
What must have been hours later, Jordon collapsed on top of Amador, and amazingly, the sweet bliss of relaxation slid through her body. For hours she’d been driven to seek that very sensation, begging Amador for more and more. Finally estela had worn off, and she felt the comforting sensation of being sated.
Amador’s hand stroked the back of her hair, gently, tenderly. She felt a strange connection to him, an outcome she wondered if she should credit to estela or the man himself. Wanting an answer, she pressed upward on her hands with what little strength she still possessed, her eyes seeking his, seeking answers. In them she found such intelligence, such gentleness, yet still he managed to exude that animal masculinity. Indeed, he took her by storm, despite the fading effects of the flower.
Abruptly Amador moved, rolling her to her back, his big body framing hers, his warm lips caressing hers for the briefest of moments. His weight rested on his arms as he stared down at her. “You trust me,” he said, and it wasn’t a question.
“Yes.”
“And I am worthy of that trust, cariña, but what if I were another? What if I had used estela to garner your submission with dark intentions?”
She knew where he was going with this, trying to point out the dangers of estela, the reasons she had to leave without it. She’d come too far, risked too much, to accept defeat so easily. “I chose to give myself to you because I sensed I could trust you. I had my free will.”
“There is nothing wrong with giving yourself to someone who deserves the gift you offer—and your body and your trust are gifts—but those things should be given freely and to a man who deserves them. You would have given yourself to my men, unable to stop yourself from seeking satisfaction at all cost. As your protector, I didn’t allow them to take you. I only allowed them to touch you, as they did, for one reason—to show you how easily you would have gone to a place you didn’t want to go under the flower’s influence.”
Jordon swallowed hard, her chest pounding with the rapid beats of her heart. He was right. She didn’t want him to be, but he was. She’d needed satisfaction and would have taken it however she could have gotten it, if not for him sending the other men away.
His finger brushed hair out of her eyes. “I know how important this discovery is to you. It is to me, as well. But if the flower escapes our protection here, it will be used to manipulate people. It would control humankind, rather than help it.”
Insistence and hope rose inside her. “There has to be a way to use its abilities for good.”
“I have no doubt there is a way,” he agreed readily. “And we’ve tried. What you see here is only what we’ve allowed you to see. We have great minds at work and labs with high-tech equipment. But despite decades of efforts, regardless of how it’s packaged, how it’s manipulated, the flower’s ability to control desire always prevails. Until we discover how to stop that from happening, it must stay here.” A smile touched his sensual mouth; his eyes softened. “There is only one way you can work with estela.” He didn’t wait for an answer. “You, and your friend, as well, could join us. Be a part of our research team.”
She laughed at that, a bit halfheartedly. The offer was tempting, but she had a job, family, friends at home. So did Olivia. The here and now was fantasy, a detour meant to be left behind. Still, she felt regret at the prospect of leaving it behind, not quite ready to do so.
“You could come back with us,” she countered, finding she meant the words, surprising herself with how much. “Study estela with us. Perhaps we have resources that would help.”
“Ah, cariña, you know deep down that I, like estela, am a part of this jungle. I belong here.”
Indeed. Part of what made him so special was the wildness beneath the surface, a wildness that could never be captive to another type of life. But she clung to more time with him. “I’m not ready to leave yet.”
“No one is rushing you,” he murmured against her lips, a second before he kissed her—a long, sensual kiss. His arousal became evident as his erection settled more fully between her legs, growing longer, fuller with each stroke of his tongue against hers. And when he slid inside her, filling her, completing her, she decided estela had given her a gift. A gift of insight. For now she knew she was capable of giving herself to another man—and that she could trust again despite a past that had made her doubt she could. But first, before giving trust to another, she had to learn to trust herself, to trust her instincts. Instincts that she now knew would lead her to the right place—back to satisfaction, to a new life, complete with passion and pleasure.