Black Aura (10 page)

Never taking his eyes from hers, he brushed the long strands of her hair behind her ears and then wrapped the silk across her eyes, carefully tying it so that it didn’t pull her hair. His deft fingers were firm, yet gentle.

She hated to feel vulnerable.

“Now just lie back and relax.”

“Right.” But she tried.

This time, when he kissed her, when his chest pressed against hers, her breath stilled. The tickle of his chest hair, the warmth of his muscles. His hands cradled her face, his thumbs caressing the edge of the blindfold. His mouth devoured hers, and all she could think about was Max.

His scent, the other scents of the room assailed her.

The heat of his mouth contrasted with the coolness of his fingers. He kissed down her neck, grazed across her collarbone and twirled his tongue around her breast.

She moaned. She wanted all of his mouth on all of her.

“Tell me what you want,” he whispered, his thigh coming between hers.

“I don’t…I don’t…” The gossamer whispered across her breasts, across her lower belly and she couldn’t think.

“Then I’ll just play until you figure it out.” He chuckled. The material, soft as butterfly wings pulled tighter across her stomach.

His hands were busy everywhere. Trailing over her arms. She could feel the chilled trails of paint, contrasting with the heat of his touch as his fingers, his palms, caressed her. Over her stomach, across her hipbones until she squirmed.

“A soft spot,” he whispered, his voice gruff, as he kissed his way down her body. “I love finding those.”

She wanted to touch him. Reaching out, she settled her hands on his shoulders. Then he stopped. “I have another idea. Give me your hand.”

She frowned.

“It’ll be better, you know it will.” He whispered against her lips.

Lake swallowed.

He placed a piece of silk in her hand. Then gently took her other hand and placed it on the other end of the silk. “Now stretch out.”

She turned her head towards his voice and shifted so that she was more reclining.

“Now put your hands above your head.”

She hesitated.

“Lake. I’m not going to tie you up, for crying out loud. We’ll try that another time. Today, I just want you to hold on to the silk in both hands.”

This she could do. Taking a deep breath, she followed his instructions. In her mind, she could see how she must look, blindfolded, her arms stretched above her head so that her breasts were on display for him. Her breasts? Hell, her whole body.

Max looked down at the work of art before him. And she was that, a fine, beautiful, luscious work of art. He dipped his fingers in the cool water, wiping the extra paint that remained on his jeans.

“You’re beautiful.” He ran his hand from her wrist down her arms, over her paint-patterned chest, over her stomach. “Some day I’m going to paint you just like this.”

He trailed his fingers across her hip bones, noticed how she jerked at the movement. He smiled. The gossamer was an interesting touch. He kept up the movements of his hands, noticing the contrast from his tanned, paint-splattered hand against the paleness of her skin.

The gold material…

Watching her face, he ran his hand up under her leg and lifted it, bending it at the knee. With the other hand, he took the end of the fabric and looped it between her thighs, tucking it up under her.

“What—”

He leaned over and kissed her, kissed her as he wanted to for the rest of his days. She tasted of secrets, of something that was only Lake. Her scent filled his nostrils and all he wanted was her.

But he didn’t want to rush. He didn’t want a quick fuck.

He wanted to cherish. To seduce. To enjoy.

This time, he followed his hands with his mouth. He played with her breasts, twirling, caressing, tweaking until she writhed against him, her breath coming faster. “Stop playing and get on with it.”

“But I like to play.” He kissed his way down her stomach. Instead of moving the thin gossamer out of his way, he kissed her through it. Soaking the fabric with his tongue. He twirled over her navel and moved lower.

The thin strip of hair covering her mound matched the dark red of her hair. He grinned as he eased her thighs apart. Knowing what she wanted, he kissed his way down each leg, running his hands up her inner thighs.

“Dammit, Max. Please…” She shifted on the couch and he smiled.

She spread her legs, giving him a view he wouldn’t forget any time soon. He traced circular patterns over her inner thighs, closer and closer, watching her reactions…

So responsive.

Lake wanted to reach out and touch him. But then he might stop… Instead she pulled on the material between her hands.

She jumped as his tongue, hot and wet, licked the inside of her thigh. Please…

Then his fingers circled higher and higher until finally, they touched her. She jerked at the first caress.

“Somebody is having fun,” his deep voice whispered. The heat of his breath against her sent chills dancing over her skin.

The soft material shifted against her yet again, rubbing across that bundle of nerves and she just wanted…

He kissed her, his fingers and his tongue making her forget who the hell she was. She wanted more.

The gossamer pulled tighter across her, and she jerked harder on the silk. His mouth, or her essence, soaked the fabric between her thighs even as it rubbed across that one spot that would… She couldn’t keep her moans locked in any more. His mouth was wicked, his tongue hot, his fingers fast, light, then harder until she couldn’t think, couldn’t reason, all she could do was feel.

Behind her eyelids, colors burst, sparked. Her purple flame teased bigger, hotter, brighter. She wanted that.

Fire licked through her veins, burning in her soul.

His tongue danced up and down her, from side to side through the material.

“Oh God, Max! Max!”

She was going to come and he hadn’t even entered her.

“Let go,” he whispered.

He twirled his tongue gently, lightly over her clit and she was lost.

Fire shot through her, from her center outwards to her finger tips.

She shivered, shook and moaned. And still he kept kissing her, kept licking her, kept playing over her, his fingers slick with her essence. Yet never once had he entered her.

Max kissed her one last time, the taste of her heady on his tongue. He wanted more. He wanted her.

Leaning up, he ripped the gossamer material away and watched as still she trembled. For him. What he could give her.

She’d surrendered. He unbuttoned his fly and shucked his jeans, grabbing the condom from the pocket. He’d hoped, hadn’t really planned this, but God, he’d hoped.

This time, he didn’t seduce her. He fisted his hand on himself as he rolled the latex on.

Kneeling on the lounge between her thighs, he realized he’d never wanted a woman as much as he wanted this one.

“We’re not done yet,” he told her, looking down where she still glistened. He moved forward, until he could feel the heat of her against him. He wasn’t going to last long.

“God, I hope not!” she said, looping her arms around him and jerking him down for a kiss. Her mouth was hot, her tongue licking his lips. He knew she could taste herself on him.

He took a deep breath and ripped the blindfold off her. Her green eyes were even brighter than usual. “Not even close to being done,” he promised.

She cradled him between her thighs. He reached down, parted her, and gritted his teeth as he trembled. Her wetness coated his fingers and he rimmed her slick passage once, twice before he couldn’t take it anymore.

He guided himself to her opening.

Her eyes closed.

“No. Look at me.” Her heat closed over him, gripping him like a fist.

Her eyes locked with his and he couldn’t look away as he slowly sank inch by inch into her.

“Yes.” She shuddered on a moan and leaned her head back, giving him her neck.

“You feel so damned good.”

“Max.”

He was lost. Lost in a sensation of her. He kissed her, her mouth hot and demanding on his. Her legs came up around him, her heels locking into the small of his back.

He pulled almost all the way out, then sank slowly back in.

She moaned and moved with him, against him, urging him on. Their lovemaking deepened. He had no idea when it happened, but he sensed it all the way to the very center of him.

Some part of her mixed with some part of him, and not just down where they joined. He opened his eyes to see her watching him. Colors danced around them, through them, on them.

Max bit down and stroked her faster. Deeper. Harder.

He felt her trembling, knew she was almost there.

Heat built low in his back, tightened his balls.

“Max! Max!”

“That’s it. Now, Lake.”

Her inner muscles squeezed around him, jerking him headlong into the hardest orgasm of his life. Stars exploded behind his eyelids, as she bowed up in his arms, she yelled his name.

All he could feel was Lake.

All he could hear was Lake.

All there was for him, was Lake.

Chapter Eleven

Max lay there. He was breathing—at least he thought he was.

“Are we alive?”

“No.” Her neck was warm. He nuzzled the soft skin and grinned when she squirmed. “Another soft spot.”

Unfortunately he had no energy left to do anything about it.

Her legs slid off his back. They lay half on the chaise lounge. Cursing, he went ahead and pulled them both to the floor. The paints lay to the side and the goblet tipped over and spread a puddle of water across the drop cloth.

He didn’t really care.

“Colors,” she muttered, kissing his jaw. “I saw the rainbow.”

He grinned and turned so that she was lying tucked to his side. “The rainbow?”

“Mmm. All the colors. Yours. Mine. Mixing. Melding.”

He hadn’t imagined it then. He tried to catch his breath. “Melding. I remember something like us melding.”

She snorted, cuddling against him.

He closed his eyes and rubbed her arm, dry paint crackling and flaking off under his fingers. Grinning, he leaned up on his elbow and looked down at her.

Purple paint patterns swirled up her arms, across her breasts to ring her nipples.

She opened her eyes and glanced down at herself. “Finger painting has taken on a whole new meaning.”

“Has it?”

She glanced at him from under her lashes. He traced her pale red brows, perfectly arched, and realized she had freckles across her skin.

“Freckles. I’ve always had a soft spot for freckles.” He leaned over and kissed her shoulder.

“Will this paint come off?”

He laughed. “It’s not henna, or stain.”

Her brows rose.

“Yes. It will come off.”

“One of these days I get to paint you.”

He traced the line of her nose, then leaned over and kissed the bridge. “Promise?”

“With green finger paint.” She nipped his lip and squirmed out from under him. “Then you can look like a leprechaun.”

He sat up, since she obviously was full of energy. She stood in the sunlight and stretched. He loved simply watching her, the way she moved, the grace, the ease. Hell, the way the sunlight burned in her hair.

“Beautiful,” he whispered, sitting up. There wasn’t a shy bone in her body.
Thank you.

She tossed her long red hair over her shoulder and looked at him. “You just want me again.”

He laughed and pulled himself to his feet. “Mmmm.”

She picked at the paint, winced. “Shower?”

He tugged her to him and kissed her. “No. I’ve a better idea.”

She leaned into him and kissed him back, her naked body fitting perfectly with his. “You’re just full of ideas, aren’t you?” She nibbled his lip. “It doesn’t have anything to do with paint does it?”

“Hmm. It could.” He led her down the hallway to the living apartments.

She slowed. “You know, we probably shouldn’t be traipsing about naked.”

“Don’t worry. Alyssa went to Santa Fe to shop. So we can currently traipse, naked or otherwise.” He glanced at her as he led her back to his bedroom and into the master bath. “Naked is my choice. Naked is beautiful.”

“So says a guy with a perfect body.”

He grinned. “You like my body?”

She rolled her eyes. “Like you couldn’t tell?”

She liked his body. “I guess flexing my muscles would not win me any points?”

Her smile made him think of all the things he really wanted to do to—and with—her mouth.

“That,” she said, running her hand over his chest, down to his groin to grip him, “would depend on which muscles you want to flex.”

He sucked in a breath but pushed her hand away.

She glanced around at his dark tiled bathroom. “Ohhhh, I want your shower.” The shower was free standing in the corner of the bathroom. Three jets came out at various points. He turned her instead to the deep Jacuzzi tub in the opposite corner.

“But I want you in the Jacuzzi.”

She laughed and leaned back against him. “That works too.”

He turned on the tub and they played, laughing and exploring while the water steamed up the room.

The thought that she belonged here, with him, in this house, flirted unbidden into his mind.

“I wonder if the colors will come back,” she murmured, her skin all but glowing.

“I don’t know,” he stood behind her, running his hands over her fantastic body, all curves and valleys. She squirmed.

“You are so damned sexy,” he whispered, gently moving her hair aside to kiss the nape of her neck.

“You’re more athletic than I am.”

“What?” he pulled back.

“Nothing.”

He walked them to the mirror.

She blinked and then laughed. “I look like a deranged artist played with me.”

Her laughter danced over him as he cupped her luscious breasts. “So he did, but you know what I see?”

“A masterpiece?” she quipped, shoving a long red strand of hair out of her way.

“And then some.”

“I was joking.”

He met her gaze in the mirror. “I’m not. You’re beautiful. Exquisite. A real woman.”

She arched a brow at him. “If that’s what you see, I won’t shatter your illusions.”

“You don’t think you’re beautiful?” he asked. He’d just have to show her otherwise, but then he liked goals.

She sighed, narrowed her gaze. “Oh, I
know
I’m beautiful and I’ve used that knowledge. But I also know that my body is not what appeals to every man.” She turned one way and then the other looking in the mirror. “A little too…too…” She scrunched up her nose. “Un-toned.”

“Un-toned? That’s not a word.”

“In my beautiful world it is.”

“You’re perfect.” His arms tightened around her. “And thank God you don’t appeal to every man. I don’t want
every
man lusting after you. I’d go out of my mind then.”

She laughed and turned in his arms. “Out of your mind? And why is that?”

“Oh, well, I guess I’m turning out to be the jealous type.”

Her hands kept moving over him, her nails softly scraping over his skin. “I never really liked the jealous type before.”

“New things for the both of us, my Viking goddess.”

She snorted and kissed him. “Delusional and jealous,” she whispered against his mouth. “Those can be seen as not very healthy qualities.”

He seduced her mouth with his lips, her body with his hands. “That’s okay. I’ve got therapy.”

“Really?” she asked, arching against him.

“Yep. Creative.” He cupped her bottom, trailing his fingers lower until he parted her, the warmth of her desire coating his fingers. She shuddered as he traced her. “And physically active.”

She laughed and pulled him over to the tub. He picked up the remote and clicked the jets on, another button and music filled the room. She twisted her hair up, and looked around his bathroom, finally picking up a couple of paintbrushes that she found standing in an empty vase beneath the mirror. She shoved them into the mass of hair to keep it up on her head.

She climbed in first, but when he started to slide into the water, she stopped him and pushed him onto the wide tiled lip that circled the inset tub.

Her eyes twinkled with amusement and darkened with passion. “Therapy is important.” She leaned over and kissed him, moving down to bite on his neck. “We wouldn’t want you to have any negative issues arise because you didn’t get enough…” She met his gaze as she lowered herself into the water and moved between his thighs.

“Enough?” he asked, though not really following the conversation. “Oh, therapy.”

He ran his fingers over her hair, cupping her cheek, his thumb moving back and forth over her plump bottom lip.

She kissed his thigh, then licked, kissed, and nibbled a trail right to where he wanted her. Her eyes never left his and he gripped the edge of the tub to keep from grabbing her.

Her hands stole his breath as she grazed up and down his shaft with her nails, then her lips, until finally,
finally
, she put her mouth on him. He wanted to watch her, but his eyes slid closed on the exquisite feeling of her hot wet mouth moving on him, around him. When her lips closed over the head of his cock, he hissed. The twirl of her tongue pulled a moan from him. But then she started to move, to suck, and he lost all train of thought. Her hands…wicked. He couldn’t follow her movements, her hands, her mouth. It all rolled together to rip a growl from him, until he gripped her head between his hands.

She let him go with a pop. “Nuh-huh. It’s your turn. No touching. Keep your hands on the edge.”

He frowned at her.

One russet brow rose. “Would you like me to get out and go find a scarf?” Her eyes looked towards his closet. “Though I’m sure a tie would work too.”

Taking a deep breath, he sucked air into his burning lungs and fisted his hands on the edge of the tile. The water swirled around them. Steam rose to slick her skin with a light sheen of moisture.

He wanted to lick it all off her.

Instead he focused on those gorgeous breasts of hers bobbing in the water.

She moved again, closer to him, nestling between his legs.

He closed his eyes and then opened them, watching as she moved closer and closer, but never touching.

“Don’t tease,” he told her.

“Or?”

This time he grinned. “Oh, you’ll find out.”

For a long minute she held his gaze, then whispered against him. “I’ll try that another time. Right now, what I want is right here.”

Max could do nothing other than watch as her mouth closed over him. This time there was no teasing, no easing nibbles or kisses to build up…

She sucked him deep and he groaned, his hips lifting of their own volition.

“Lake,” he growled.

She didn’t stop, didn’t slow, but sucked him harder, deeper, her hands busy at the base of his shaft and balls.

He tried to hold on, to make it last, but hell, he’d been fantasizing about that mouth of hers for months.

Max wanted inside her. Now. But he couldn’t. He should…

Her hands did something and her mouth did something else and he was fucking lost.

His release tore through him. He bowed up, shouting. Vaguely, he realized she was still moving on him, her mouth milking every last drop from him, her hands on his hips.

He dropped his head to his chest and gripped her head. Holding her stare, he jerked the brushes free, smiling as her hair rioted around her shoulders, the ends floating in the water. He ran his fingers through the silky red tresses.

Finally, she let him go, licking the last of his passion from him.

Her smile pulled at his gut and he wanted her again. “I can’t feel my fingers. Or my feet. Or hell,” he sighed, sliding down into the water, “even my head.”

She twirled a finger around the head of his cock.

“Not that head.”

Laughing, she moved to sit beside him, but he didn’t let her. Instead, he pulled her astride him and jerked her to him for a kiss.

“I’m going to have you so hot, so ready, you’ll beg me,” he warned her. “And then, I’ll make you beg me more.”

“Promises, promises.” She moved her head to the side as he kissed down her neck, cupping her breasts.

“You better damned well believe it.”