A Dangerous Game (26 page)

"That was one of the most erotically satisfying moments of my life. She

gave this startled yelp, and the cloth split, and I saw everything. The

full round breasts, the hard, little nipples, and her shocked

expression as she tried to cover herself.

"It was great.
 
I felt powerful and damned uncomfortable.
 
Now I'd seen

it all, I wanted to have it all.
 
We ended up on the carpet, rolling

around together."
 
He laughed softly.

"Right up to the end, I honestly thought she was trying to fight me

off.
 
I thought she was afraid because things had gone too far, got out

of hand.
 
Because I was in control now, and she knew she'd have to play

the kind of games I chose.

"I managed to get one of her nipples in my mouth, and my hand up

between her legs.
 
I pulled her panties down to her knees, and then to

her ankles.
 
And then there she was, just like I'd always imagined,

lying there naked, and making futile little protest noises, with her

legs wide apart.
 
And I was on top of her, with the best hard-on I'd

ever had in my life."

"You didn't feel sorry for her?"
 
Jacey asked.

He laughed.

"I was fifteen.
 
I just wanted it, and at that time I only knew one way

of getting it."
 
He shrugged.

"And it was good.
 
Probably one of the best orgasms I've had. Certainly

the one I remember most clearly."

"You raped her," Jacey said.

"And I suppose you got away with it?"

He looked at her for a moment, then burst out laughing.

"I didn't rape her.
 
I told you, she was asking for it."

"She was teasing you.
 
It was pretty irresponsible of her.
 
But that

didn't give you the right to force yourself on her."

Nicolas stopped laughing.

"You just don't understand, do you?
 
Perhaps I should have said, she

was getting paid for it."
 
He leant back comfortably in his chair.

"She was a whore.
 
My father paid her to make a man out of me.

Or to see whether I was capable of behaving like one.
 
After I'd proved

myself, he let me j go to all the whorehouses in town.
 
He wanted me to

learn what women were like."

"And did you?"

"I learnt that women will give you what you want if you pay them," he

said.

"And they always have their own agenda."

"Is that supposed to include me?"

"Of course."
 
His voice was suddenly cold.

"Very much so.
 
Why else did you break with Peter Draven, and give

yourself to me?"

For one horrible moment Jacey thought that Nicolas knew exactly why she

had come to Guachtal.
 
And exactly how she was planning to use him

during their relationship.
 
But her apprehension did not show in her

face.

"I wanted to find out if you were as good a stud as everyone said you

were," she said coolly.

"You knew I would be," he said.

"Powerful men turn you on.
 
For all your intelligence, and your smart

job, you like to behave like a whore.
 
You like to be treated like a

whore."
 
He smiled coldly.

"Peter Draven would have bored you in a week.
 
So you willingly dropped

him for me.
 
I'm exactly the right kind of man for you.
 
Tell me I'm

wrong, Dr.
 
Muldaire."

"Would you believe me if I did?"
 
she asked.

"No," he said.

"I wouldn't.
 
I know you better than you know yourself.

Now, take off that dress."

She smiled.

"You've been longing to say that all evening, haven't you?"

"I've been looking forward to seeing you do it all evening," he

agreed.

"I didn't get a chance to inspect you properly when we had our little

tete a tete at the party.
 
Now there's no hurry.
 
Take the dress

off."

Jacey put her wine glass down, reached behind her back and tugged at

her zip.
 
She did it slowly, turning until her back was to Nicolas. The

dress slipped off her shoulders, over her breasts to her waist. She

turned again, slid her hands under the heavy, green silk of the skirt,

and tugged it downwards, bending forward so that her breasts swung

tantalisingly.
 
The skirt rustled as it reached her knees, and then her

ankles.
 
Pleased that the hold-ups were still in position, she stepped

out of the dress, lifted it and placed it over the back of a chair.

"No suspenders?"
 
He sounded regretful.

"How do those things stay up?"

"Elastic," she said.
 
She walked forward, stopped in front of him, and

straddled his outstretched legs.
 
Slowly and deliberately she lifted

one foot and put it on the seat of the armchair.
 
She ran a finger

round the top of her hold-up, delicately easing the grey garter band

away from her thigh.

"See?"

"Ingenious," he said.
 
But he was not looking at the stocking top.
 
His

eyes were on the cleft between her legs, where the damp, green silk

clung to her inner lips as mute evidence of her own arousal.
 
He put

his fingertips on her stomach and pushed her backwards.

"Get them off," he ordered, abruptly.

"The stockings?"
 
she asked, deliberately misunderstanding.

He stood up and grasped her silky French knickers in both hands.

"Not the stockings."
 
One violent tug and the knickers were round her

ankles.

"You can keep them on."
 
He stepped back and sat down again.

"They won't get in the way."

"In the way of what, exactly?"
 
she asked sweetly.

"They won't get in the way when I tongue you," he said.

"Which is exactly what you're asking for right now, isn't it?"

He put his hands on her waist and pulled her towards him, so that she

was forced to straddle his legs again.
 
Then his hands slipped round to

cup her bottom and pull her closer still.
 
His lips touched her

stomach, and she felt his tongue circling her navel, slowly, before

descending to the red bush between her thighs.

"Open your legs wider," he demanded.
 
She felt the warmth of his

breath, and tried to obey him, but her feet began to slip.

"I can't," she said.
 
Tm sliding ... falling" He pushed her back

suddenly, and swiftly slid down to lie on the floor.

"Kneel over me," he instructed.

She obeyed, her knees on either side of his shoulders.

"Your nice suit will get dirty."

To hell with my suit."
 
He grinned.

"Let's see how well you dance, Dr.
 
Muldaire."
 
His hands reached for

her waist again, and he pulled her down until she faced him, her thighs

spread above his face.

"Lower," he said.

"I want to taste you."

She leant forward over his head, and bent her legs until he could reach

her, until she felt the insistent probing of his tongue.
 
He lifted his

arms and reached for her breasts, finding her semi-erect nipples,

inciting them into harder peaks with rough fingers.

"Move," he ordered.

"All the best whores know this dance."

She expected him to just lie there and let her do all the work, but his

tongue encouraged her, circling the tip of her clitoris, then

tantalised her by sliding away and forcing her to gyrate her hips in

erotic, choreographed movements, in order to bring him back to the spot

that gave her the most pleasure.
 
As she lifted her hips above him,

briefly, she heard him say something, but she was barely conscious of

anything except her need for release.

She felt him grasp her wrists and flip her suddenly over on to her

back.
 
He unzipped his trousers with one hand, and then she felt his

knees between her legs, forcing them apart.
 
His mouth nuzzled her neck

and breasts, now with a lack of control.
 
An animal noise came from the

back of his throat; it was clear that his mind was on his own needs

rather than hers.
 
But she was so wet and aroused that his first thrust

pushed into her deeply, filling her, exciting her with new

sensations.

Her own ragged breathing began to match his rhythm, but he seemed

selfishly determined to postpone his own climax for as long as

possible, without any thought for her.
 
And then, suddenly, he

withdrew.
 
She moaned in frustration, her body limp.
 
He turned her

over, on to her hands and knees, his erection as strong as ever, and

spread the cheeks of her bottom.
 
One hand slid under her, finding a

nipple, while the other sought her clitoris.
 
She felt the sensations

that had been slowly dissipating gather together in strength once more,

building up to new peaks of pleasure.
 
When he entered her, pushing

between her buttocks, she heard herself gasping in tandem to each of

his thrusts.

"Do you like it, Jacey?"
 
His mouth nuzzled the back of her neck, his

voice muffled by her tangled hair.