Bold Beautiful Love -- A Temptation Court Contemporary Romance: Temptation Court: Passion in New York (9 page)

By all the saints, he is beautiful.

And perfect…

With his mouth descending.

His tongue invading.

His fingers still tightening against my head. Hurting…just enough to make me moan and widen, letting him explore my mouth in deeper plunges of passion, hotter sweeps of heat I cannot and will not deny…

“Oh!” It spills before I can even get air back in, when he finally pulls back. The edges of his lips quirk, followed by a gleam in his eyes that cannot be mistaken. The lion is already proud of his kill, and his feast has barely begun.

And the prey could not be happier.

“You liked that, hmmm? Answer me,” he prompts, when all I give is a wobbly nod. “And remember how to do it, girl.”

“Y-yes, Mr. Court. I—I enjoyed it. A great deal.”

“Good.” His stare lowers, taking in my whole face with thicker regard. At the same time, he snags his lower lip with heart-halting slowness. “Because I have
much
more to give you.”

“Th-thank you, Mr. Court.”

I have no idea if it is the right thing to say, though the fresh spark in his eyes is encouraging. Exhilarating. My breath catches all over again in my chest.
What is going on
? This is different than simply anticipating a good fuck with him. Yes,
that
part is always good.

But this…

Is different.

There is something new here. New…to him. And…to me.

Is it the island? This room? The constant adrenalin we have both been subsisting on, due to what brought us here?

And do I really care?

I only know I love the feeling of it. Every frightening, heart-halting moment of it.

Even as he slips his hands free from me—pulling the T-shirt up and over my head on the way. “Lose these on your way to the bed.” His growled instruction comes with a flick at my lacy panties. “Then lie down on the side of it, with your head down and your sweet bare ass raised for my pleasure.”

I swallow hard.

“Yes, Mr. Court.”

Set the lion free.

*

Cassian

S
he is a dream
.

She has to be.

I had no choice about falling in love with her—my soul told me that from the second our eyes met—but right now, I officially worship her. Long to fall to my knees as I kiss the backs of hers, then slowly make my way to her toes, kissing each in utter gratitude, confirming she is, in fact, a complete reality.

But I can’t do that right.

Because of this gift she is openly giving me.

Her nudity. Her vulnerability. Her trust. Herself.

“Good girl,” I praise, shocked about the paste glob my mouth has turned into while stripping from the cotton shorts I was sleeping in. Commando’s my usual preference but we’re houseguests in a land still on high alert, inside a guest bedroom with a non-locking door. Not that I’m worried about Syn or his little bride intruding. Earlier, the man himself pulled me aside to make sure I knew about
all
the amenities of our accommodations—including the fact that the closet doesn’t just contain extra clothes hangers.

The closet I now step to, and slide open.

“Cassian? I-I mean…Mr. Court? Wh-what are you—”

“Miss Santelle.” It’s threaded with calm and command at the same time, compelling her head back to the bed’s gold coverlet. “Do you trust me?”

I swear to God, her quiver shakes the air. And then, in a sublime rush, her surrender. “Yes.” Her declaration is proud. “Yes, I do.”

“Then you’ll continue doing just that, won’t you?”

“Yes, Mr. Court.”

The next few minutes are among the most silent—and electric—of my life.

I’m not a card-carrying member of any wild and kinky “scene,” but have dated enough members of some to know my way around a spreader bar. But while the equipment is familiar, absolutely nothing about the rest of this is. She isn’t just another moaning female, ready to take as much from me as I do from her. I’m not just a horny prick searching for an interesting spike in my sex life, something to distract me from the noncommittal biology that’s about to happen. This is…energy exchange. Deepening trust. The gift of her body to mine. The relinquishment of her personal will—a commodity that has, for so much of her life, been the only thing she can rely on.

“How are you?” I ask it while once more testing the snugness of the leather cuff around her right ankle. The O-ring at the back of it is latched into the connector at the end of the steel bar.

“I am…good. Thank you, Mr. Court.” Her voice is a husk of lust, punching straight to the core of my cock. Christ. I haven’t even started to push out the bar yet. Her pussy is still just a peek of pink—and her ass isn’t close to what I crave.

What I have planned…

“That is very good to hear, because we’re only getting started.” I finish that by twisting the pin free from the middle of the bar. “But before we do, you need to tell me that you understand two things.”

“Of course, Mr. Court.”

I stroke her thighs from ass to knees, literally caressing more security into her. “Number one: I am going to open you, Ella. Touch you, then fuck you, in ways we’ve only talked about before. Push you…in order to plunge you into deeper bliss than you’ve ever imagined. To do that, I don’t just require your trust. I demand it.”

A heavy swallow rolls down her throat. Her shoulders bunch up then visibly soften. “You have it.” And suddenly, her voice is strong and clear. “I promise.”

“And your promise leads to point number two.
My
promise. This isn’t some game, Ella. Nothing between us will ever be a game. So if you say no—if you even whisper
stop
—that’s my complete sign to do so. Got it?”

She’s listened to my declaration in such stillness, her playful little wriggle comes as a strange precursor to her surprise of a reply. “I would not dream of ever asking you to stop, Mr. Court.”

Well.

Two can play at
that
teasing game.

And I do—in the form of a sound that’s half savoring snarl and half wicked chuckle.

“But you have no idea what I am going to ask of you, Miss Santelle.”

*

Mishella

The shivers deepen
with every new clink of the bar.

Tremors along my skin…expanding through each of my pores…then claiming every fiber of the flower at my core, unfolding for his gaze…exposed even more when he turns on the bedside lamp and even removes its shade.

“Fuck,” he rasps. “Fuck.
Me.
You’re so perfect, Ella.”

A blush crashes in, along with my shivers. The sensations are a skirmish in my senses, causing my muscles to react, instinctively wanting to hide. But I cannot. I am his. Controlled by him. Submitted to him. Offered to him…

Open to the fingers he slides over my trembling mons…then through my wet, achy slit. A prisoner to the jerks of my body, trying to push at him for more…but needing to escape the intensity…

He seems to know this, and pulls away.

Only to pull that damn pin again.

And spread the bar wider.

“Ohhhh…” It stammers from me as a cool wind brushes in from the terrace, caressing the exposed nub at my core, and all the aroused folds around it…

And now, the sensitive rose of my backside.

I am spread so wide, even those delicate edges are now bared—a fact not escaping Cassian’s attention for a moment. From the dark satisfaction in his new growl, I might even guess this has been his purpose all along.

I am going to open you…touch you, then fuck you, in ways we’ve only talked about before
…

“Oh…
my
.” It is not such a stutter anymore. The fear will not allow for that.

Cassian pauses, his hands spread across my upper thighs. “That’s not a stop.”

I force moisture into my mouth. “No, Mr. Court. It is not.”

“Then grip the bed cover, Ella. And push against me.”

Push against me
. He has used the words before when exploring the tight tunnel of my backside—even when plunging his fingers there while taking me with his cock—but there is a new element in this version of his command. A guttural catch, as if resonating from his deepest self…the root of his whole essence.

The cock, like velvet steel, he slides between my ass cheeks.

Without hesitation, I curl both hands into the comforter.
No games.
If he means it, I am going to need the security.

My grip tightens, as he rubs everything along my crack—balls, shaft, crown—over and over and over again.

Tighter, as he lays a stream of lube between our flesh.

Tighter still, as he reaches down—and breeches my pussy with his fingers.

“Oh!” I must be setting a record for the utterance tonight, but it is all I am capable of. “By the Creator!” Or…maybe not. “What—
what
, by all the saints, is—”

“Relax, sweet girl.” He tosses the lube aside to keep my lower back pressed all the way down. Why does his voice sound so labored…and so sexy? “Just push into it.”

Push into it. Right. Only with what…and how? As his cock continues to tease at my backside, the lube slicks over his separate invasion, stretching the walls of my other entrance. It is not his fingers, nor the bullet-style vibrator he sometimes likes to use on me. This…
thing
…is as big and long as his penis, only it is hard, unrelenting—

And vibrating.

“Dear…
Creator
.”

It bursts from me, half scream and half choke, as every inch of my core is turned into a conflagration of stars battling into my bloodstream at once. As soon as it does, my body sizzles into a state that proves every syllable of his promise true. I have never known bliss like this—only in the same moment, it is torture, giving way to the need for more. In the space of ten seconds, I am his sensory addict, shrieking from inexplicable arousal…begging without shame for more.

“Is that good, my sweet
armeau
?”

“Oh…oh,
Cassian
—”

“What?”

“I—I mean—Mr.—ummm—” Hell. What is his name? What is
my
name? Do I care? Do I need to care? “Oh—
dammit
—just do not stop.
Please
do not stop!”

I am shaking so hard, the spreader bar rattles. Cassian twists, working the device deeper into my pussy. I groan, torn between ecstasy and elation. I have never wanted to climax more in my life while craving to be held off…shown to higher precipices.

He backs off.

I moan in thanks…and hatred.

“Sweet…fuck,” I gasp. “Oh…
please
…”

The vibrator is in tight. Cassian leaves it there, now using both hands to widen my ass cheeks. Cold liquid penetrates deeper into my most forbidden opening. His fingers slide in, pushing me farther and farther apart—

Taking turns with the head of his cock.

The sensation is…

Full.

Immense.

Too much.

But not enough.

Something inside me craves more. Needs this push over the edge of anything I’ve ever experienced before…this gift of everything in my body, my mind, and my soul to him. Letting him command everything he needs. Letting him claim everything he wants.

Letting him fuck everything he wants.

And still, I feel him holding back. His own body betrays it, coiled and tense as he starts to work at my rose with his cock alone. But not
all
of it…

Until he digs a hand into the flesh of my hips. Uses the other to work the vibrator high and hard into my sex again. Groans and purrs at once, starting to set a wildcat rhythm with his hips.

My body throbs and rocks, attempting to meet his thrusts. With what few brain cells he has not yet pounded from my skull, I focus on keeping my muscles open and expanded, instead of clenched and climaxing. It is
not
easy, especially when he clicks the sex toy to a higher setting. Slicks everything with a fresh coat of lube. The contrast of the cold liquid to my hot—
everything
—adds another layer of arousal to the mess of my senses.

“So…good,” I manage to pant out. “So…damn…good!”

His snarl is a raw, low coil. His hold is a brutal, hard demand. His thighs are flexed sinew between mine, meshing his sweat with mine. The scent of it is thick in every electric ion of the air between us, intensified by the gusting wind across the terrace. “You want more, Miss Santelle?”