He was laying himself bare to her. He was revealing things that gave her an immense hold over him. His admission of having killed a man wasn’t as horrifying to her as she suspected he thought it was. In her line of work, she’d seen men killed—had shot a few herself, though she’d never taken a life. If Sean had killed a man in self-defense—as he had claimed it to be—she could understand why he had fled the States, especially if his enemy was a powerful man intent on destroying him.
“What are you thinking, sweetness?” he asked, his eyes filled with trepidation.
“I want you,” she said and with that took her hand out of his. She slid her palm down his chest and cupped his cock. “I want this.”
“Kiley—”
“Hush,” she said. “No more talking, cowboy.” She massaged his length and smiled as it leapt in her hand. “Let’s seal this deal now. We can go over the particulars later.”
He had no chance to protest; she moved away from him to kneel on the bed. As she flung one leg over his hip and pushed him flat on his back, she leaned back to sit on his knees.
“Am I hurting you?” she asked, both hands on his erection now.
“No,” he said in a ragged whisper.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
“Wait a minute,” she said and was off the bed before he could stop her.
“Get your ass back here, woman,” he shouted. She watched him prop himself up on his elbows as she disappeared into the bathroom.
“Don’t get your long johns in a bunch, cowboy,” she called out.
She came back and hopped up on the tall mattress. Straddling him once more, she put her hand on his chest to urge him down once more.
“Sweetness, I—”
“If you don’t shut up, I’m gonna gag you,” she said sternly.
He snorted.
“Let’s see if I remember how to do this,” she said.
“Do what?” he asked, frowning, for there was a squishing sound that made him lift his head from the pillow. “Sweetness? What are you doing?”
She reached for him, taking his now flaccid cock in hands that were slick with hand cream. What was limp one second leapt to life in the next and she heard him sigh.
Smoothing the cream over the entire expanse of his hard cock, Kiley slid the lightly cupped fingers of her right hand down the length of him, twisting gently, while she polished the head of his penis with the palm of her left hand.
Julian reached up behind him to grab the lowest hanging branch of the headboard. His breath rate had increased and his thighs beneath her were almost rigid.
While holding his cock against his belly, she gently scratched her fingernails from the underside of his shaft, down his balls then turned her hand so she could slide her middle finger all the way to his anus.
“Shit,” Julian gasped.
“You’d better not,” she warned, inserting the tip of her middle fingernail into the puckered opening.
He grabbed for her but she swatted his hands away.
“No,” she said. “You are mine to do with as I please, cowboy. Now behave.”
He was at her mercy and seemed to resign himself to the delicious torment as she dragged her fingernails up his scrotum, flicking the taut ridges of his scrotal sac. Palming his rigid cock between her hands, she rubbed downward, alternating in a back and forth motion then upward again, the slickness of the cream causing little friction but the desired effect, which had him panting. While wrapping the fingers of her left hand around the shaft, she removed her middle finger from his puckered hole then delicately touched the fingernail of her index finger into the slit.
He groaned and she could feel his body quivering.
“My, my,” she said in a husky voice. “You are leaking like a sieve, cowboy!”
His juices were mixing with the cream on her hands, adding more lubrication to her ministrations.
Cupping his balls in the palm of her right hand, she rolled them gently, ignoring his moans as she turned her attention to the seminal vesicles on the sides of his sac, using her thumb and middle finger to stroke them first in tandem then in opposing movement.
“Kiley,” he warned in a low growl that seemed to come from the depths of his chest.
She rose up on one knee and used the other to push his legs apart. When she was sitting between his spread thighs, she ordered him to put his feet on her shoulders.
“What?” he asked, lifting his head to look at her through the darkness.
“Do as you’re told, cowboy,” she demanded. “And no backtalk, mister.”
He hesitated for a second or two then braced his ankles over her shoulders.
“Men have a G-spot, too,” she said. “Did you know that?”
He didn’t get a chance to answer. She leaned forward, bending his knees toward his chest. His ass was off the mattress, arched toward her, as exposed as a man could be. Her right thumb moved under that super-sensitive area between the base of his scrotum and anus. She stroked, searching for the dimple, and when she found it, pressed it softly for the count of ten then relaxed the pressure before applying it again.
Julian arched his hips up as though he had been struck by lightning. He was groaning, the sounds coming out with each expulsion of breath. His gasps were loud, his reaction instant when her middle finger slipped into his anus and wiggled playfully.
“Damn!” he shrilled. “I can’t… I’m going to…”
As her finger probed deeper into his anal opening, she used her other hand to grip the head of his shaft and begin rotating it from side to side as though she were turning a faucet on and off, pulling the shaft upward as she manipulated him.
He came as explosively as any man she had ever been with. The hot spurt of his cum hit her palm and ran down her wrist. She groaned in satisfaction and, when he shuddered one final time, she reached for the towel she had brought from the bathroom. While he lay twitching from the aftermath of his orgasm, she gently cleaned him, wiping the residual juices from his flesh and hers.
“When was the last time you got laid, cowboy?” she asked.
“Months,” he whispered.
“I can believe it,” she said. “You were chock-full, baby.”
She would have thought he would fall asleep—for that had been her experience that sated men in the past. She was content to allow him to rest for she instinctively knew that when he turned his full attention to satisfying her, she would be fulfilled as she never had been. Stretching out beside him, placing her hand on his still-heaving chest, she had resigned herself to wait.
But, apparently, waiting was the last thing on Julian St. John’s mind.
And surprise was the name of the game.
Stunned when he sat up and clapped his hands, she had no time to wonder what he was about for the branches above her came to twinkling life as tiny lights blinked on in random patterns through the silken leaves.
“Oh,” Kiley breathed, staring up into what looked like fireflies flitting through the carved branches. She was mesmerized by the display, following the movement with her eyes as first one light then two then three flickered to catch her attention. There was just enough light from the branches for her to see his handsome face peering down at her. His dark hair glistened beneath the shimmer of the lights in the branches.
“All my life,” he said, “I have wanted a woman who wanted my pleasure as much as her own.”
“Then lie beside me and let me hold you,” she said softly.
“No,” he countered. “Now it’s my turn.”
As the imitation fireflies blinked through the leaves above her, Kiley discovered what true sexual expertise could be. Begrudgingly she thanked Celeste Dubois.
His hands were like rough silk as they dragged over her tender flesh. He stroked here, probed there, flicked in another spot. His palms soothed over her belly, cupped her breasts and his thumbs brought her nipples to hard little pebbles. His fingers threaded through her hair, massaged her scalp. His short fingernails grazed her belly button and gently spiraled down into the shallow indention, tickling the sensitive folds. He used the backs of his hands to trace the flesh on her rib cage and hips and down her thighs. He centered the palm of his right hand against the heat at the juncture of her thighs and held it there as she wiggled against him.
The heat from his hand was scalding her, bringing her juices, causing a deep stirring in her belly. Just as he had done, she reached up behind her and wrapped her fingers around the lowest branch.
“Open your legs,” he whispered.
Like a raw recruit jumping at the command of her drill instructor, she jerked her legs apart, reveling in the feeling, for his hand was still pressed tightly to her.
The moment his middle finger slid into her, she arched her head back and squeezed her eyes shut. Deprived of seeing his handsome face, she immersed herself in the sensation his finger was creating between her folds. That strong length had gone unerringly to her G-spot and was rubbing it gently.
“Imagine my cock inside you,” he said, using his free hand to pluck at the nipple of her right breast. “Imagine it deep inside you. Hard as a piece of smooth iron, warm as liquid fire.”
Kiley moaned, lifting her hips toward his conquering hand.
“Can you feel the hot semen oozing into your core?”
She bit her lower lip, nodding as best she could with her head thrown back.
He jerked his finger inside her. “Do you feel the life in that stiff cock?”
“Umm,” she groaned and flicked her tongue over her upper lip.
“He wants to go deeper into you. He wants to reach the very center of your pleasure.”
He circled her G-spot with the pad of his fingertip then eased out of her to rub her clit.
“Outside?” he said, fingering her clitoris, “or inside?” Once more, his finger found the blazing sensitivity on the roof of her vagina. “Outside? Inside?”
He was turning her into a boneless mass of quivering flesh. She was panting, moaning, shuddering as he alternated the areas of his attention.
Then he lowered his lips to her breast and drew the nipple into his mouth, capturing it gently with his teeth, worrying it softly and with exquisite care.
“Sean,” she shrieked, clamping her legs against his invading hand.
He felt her vagina expand as though she was trying to thrust his fingers from inside her then the walls quivered in a succession of tightening and release that almost felt as though she was attempting to swallow his hand, to snatch it up inside her cunt.
He pushed his fingers deeper, striving to touch her very womb, and the intensity of her orgasm brought a scream from her throat. Knowing he had not hurt her but given her a climax to equal—or exceed—any she had ever experienced, he smiled, keeping his fingers deep inside her.
She shuddered one last time then fell limp, her head lolling to one side, her chest heaving as she struggled to draw the air into lungs she had been denied for the duration of her orgasm. Her legs relaxed then splayed open, leaving her helpless and exposed.
“Mine,” he said, easing his fingers from inside her.
“Yours,” she whispered in reply.
He gathered her into his arms, stretched his long body out beside hers and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead.
“Sleep, my lady,” he said.
As soul-numbing peace settled over Kiley Trevor, she could hear his strong, steady heartbeat. She could feel his warm flesh molded to hers. She could smell the spent juices of their bodies mixed with the heady cologne he wore. She could sense the pleasure he felt because she knew her own had given her a glimpse into heaven.
Long into the night as the woman in his arms slept soundly, contentedly, Julian St. John stared up into the flickering lights of the tree headboard. Gone was the peace of the moment that had given him more pleasure than he had ever thought possible. In its place were plans on how he would keep this woman safe and with him forever.