Knight's Mistress (21 page)

As she uttered one of those low, languorous moans that
he’d learned last night unlocked her pussy, he reached behind her and ripped open the covered hooks with a wrenching twist of his wrist, letting the costly garment fall to the floor. Lifting his mouth, he swept her up in his arms. Compelled by a savage need he neither liked nor understood, he swiftly kicked the door open, walked into his bedroom and moved towards the bed. Although the still functioning portion of his brain blamed his blind impulses on the get-your-rocks-off bustier.

‘Now,’ he said on a suffocated breath. ‘I’m going first.’ He tossed her on the bed, pulled off her panties, unzipped his slacks with a jerk of his hand, crawled on top of her, shoes and all – a first for a man of enormous self-control. ‘Keep up if you can.’ He guided his rampant erection to her sex. ‘We’ll play’ – intent on positioning his cock precisely on her pouty cleft, his voice trailed off – ‘after …’

A second later a low, throaty groan rumbled deep in his chest as he rammed inside her so hard and fast, she went rigid beneath him. But he didn’t care, the staggering impact to the head of his dick was vibrating wildly up his spine, spiking through his brain, had him momentarily seeing stars. Dragging in a harsh breath, he waited for the stars to recede, then impatient to duplicate the raw, agonizing sensations, he pulled her clenched fingers from his shoulders, shoved her arms to her sides, circled her wrists in a vice-like grip and held her captive. Flexing his legs, he withdrew, tightened his glutes and plunged back
in, the force of his driving invasion moving her a grudging inch up the silk comforter.

To that inflexible point of no return.

She gasped, open-mouthed, then the punishing blow gave way to a flame-hot explosion of raw, soul-stirring rapture that left her shaking.

He grunted as his rigid cock met the ultimate resistance: an unspeakable thrill washed over him in hot waves, the scent of her filled his nostrils, her little whimpers as she writhed beneath him made him harder and longer and thicker.

His concentration narrowed to the finite pressure on his dick as he slowly withdrew. Plunging in deeply again, he shut his eyes against the wild delirium ravaging his senses. ‘Dammit, I should send you home,’ he muttered, disturbed by his ungovernable craving for this woman he barely knew.

‘You should,’ she whispered, arching her body up to meet his next savage thrust, feeling him move and swell inside her.

‘Jesus Christ.’ His voice was rough, breathless.

Correctly interpreting his expletive, she licked his throat. ‘Good. Because I’m not finished with—’ She gasped as the force of his next downstroke propelled her further up the bed and urgent, trembling, as desperate as he to feel the inexplicable, addictive pleasure, she tightened her vaginal muscles – to hold him, possess him, to preserve the gluttonous bliss. And for the first time, she truly understood
the corrupting power of desire – the ache, the need, the wanting that never stopped, the breathless, fatal longing.

A shame Dominic Knight was the most emotionally unavailable man on the planet.

Driven by his own thin-skinned surliness, blaming
her
for amping him up, for inciting such manic compulsion, Dominic selfishly pursued his climax. He was a millisecond from orgasm when her explosive scream shattered his eardrums and he didn’t know whether to be annoyed that she came first or amused at his own naivety in thinking she couldn’t keep up. Since his libido was currently focused on riding the orgasmic wave, however, speculation gave way to fiery sensation and he quickly caught up, matched her rhythm, and spilled a white hot river of semen into her shuddering body.

‘Nice,’ he whispered in her ear afterwards.

She smiled up at him, her gaze still pleasure-hazed. ‘Anytime … get undressed.’

‘Is that an order?’ His voice was a low rasp, his breath warm on her cheek.

‘Definitely,’ she purred.

He glanced at the clock – a man once again in control. ‘An hour, then we have to wash up and dress before we face the battlefield of lunch.’

She grinned. ‘I expect you to save me.’

He smiled back. ‘I consider it my duty.’

‘I’ll do something for you then.’

‘I’m sure you will. I know you will.’

‘Ummm – that voice of authority. It turns me on.’

‘Everything turns you on.’

‘Everything about you.’

‘Better yet,’ he drawled. Post-orgasmic, he viewed Miss Hart’s impact on his life more charitably. She was unnecessary, even slightly high-maintenance when it came to soothing her quick temper. But she was straight-out irresistible and the state of the universe was less raw when she was around.

‘Undress now. I want to feel you.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’ He kissed her smiling mouth, whispered, ‘Two minutes,’ and slid off the bed.

She watched him like an infatuated lover watches the man she loves, although she knew better. But he was so fine, so beautiful, so glorious in every way, she allowed herself the fantasy. It was only six days. How could it hurt?

He kicked off his shoes, bent to strip off his socks, then straightened up and turned to blow her a kiss. ‘I’m a lucky man.’ His smile was affectionate. ‘You look perfect lying on my bed. I think I’ll have to keep you.’

‘Maybe I’ll let you.’

‘We’ll work something out,’ he said from under the sweater he was pulling over his head. He dropped his sweater to the floor and unbuckled his belt. ‘Tell me what you want first or I’ll figure out something.’ His slacks fell to the carpet; he stepped out of them and slid his boxers
down his lean hips. ‘I’m taking orders, Miss Hart,’ he said with a grin, standing nude a foot from the bed.

‘You know more than I do. Surprise me.’ Lord he was impressive; male perfection – tall, broad-shouldered, lean, with steel hard muscles that were honed by some major exercise. He had to work out to have a six-pack and pecs like that. His cock had regular work-outs too, she suspected. Not that she was complaining, seeing how she was the current recipient of that strong, agile, indefatigable erection. The man had stamina. ‘I need your awesome dick. Pronto. Add that to my order.’

He was moving towards his bathroom. ‘Haven’t you ever heard of foreplay?’ he said over his shoulder.

‘If it makes me feel as good as an orgasm, I’m interested. Otherwise – not so much.’

‘Ah – a novice to be schooled.’ His voice echoed from the white marble bathroom, the sound of running water in the background.

‘You make it sound really salacious.’

‘It is. You’ll like it.’ He reappeared, carrying some towels and a wet washcloth.

A moment later the silk comforter was on the floor, the towels were at the foot of the bed and he was wiping away the residue of his semen from between her legs.

‘You make a very nice houseboy,’ she purred, his washing gentle and invasive and seriously turning her on.

He looked up and smiled. ‘I can be nicer. How’s that feel?’

‘Really, really good.’

He glanced up. ‘Are you always so easily aroused?’ He didn’t mean for his voice to be edgy. ‘Sorry,’ he quickly said, grinning. ‘Just asking.’

‘I’m not – or haven’t been until now. You get the gold star.’

‘In that case, I’ll have to see that I perform up to the required standards.’

‘I’m sure that won’t be a problem for you.’ It was her turn to quash her displeasure. ‘And I mean that most sincerely,’ she added with a smile.

He grinned. ‘It’s amazing what an orgasm can do for one’s serenity, isn’t it?’

She nodded, her gaze amused. ‘I think I found inner peace.’

‘Same here, babe. At least temporarily. Now let’s see what I can do to make you glimpse Nirvana again.’ He lobbed the wet washcloth through the bathroom door and turning back, eased her into the centre of the bed. Spreading her legs with a gentle brush of his palms, he lay down, lifted one of her legs on his shoulder to give himself enough room, then settled on his stomach between her legs. He looked up and smiled. ‘Something simple first. Foreplay 101.’ He slid his finger up her cleft, softly touched her clit at the top of his stroke, felt her leg on his shoulder relax, and following his finger with his mouth, licked a path up and down her soft, pink flesh.

She softly exhaled, flexed her hips faintly, and sucked
in her breath as he gently nipped at her. He was fastidious in his attentions, licking, sucking, concentrating more and more on her clit, bringing her up to a frantic panting, then easing the tension by moving on to less sensitive areas. He kissed her inner thighs, moving down to her calves, ankles, feet, his lips smooth, warm, tantalizing.

And when she whimpered in overt demand, he glanced at her. He was kneeling, her foot resting on his thigh, his thumbs massaging the sole of her foot to exquisite effect. ‘Patience. It only gets better.’ His thumbs were centred on the curve of her heel where the pressure points for her pelvis lay.

‘I don’t want to wait,’ she fretfully murmured.

‘You have to. Feel this?’

She softly groaned.

‘And this?’ Her pelvis came up as he pressed his thumb into her heel. ‘See, you liked that.’ Raising his other hand, he placed a palm on her mons and forced her back down, the tips of his fingers strategically placed over her G-spot.

He played nice for a very long time; his repertoire beyond fucking was extensive. And when he finally let her climax – purely with massage – she came in a long, drawn-out progression of screaming orgasms that pleased them both.

Dropping into a sprawl beside the breathless woman in his bed, Dominic kissed the corners of Kate’s mouth, her throat, her eyelids as she lay, eyes shut, basking in the glow. ‘After lunch, we’ll go somewhere quiet, no people, just us.’

She smiled and uttered a soft purr of assent.

Resting on one elbow, he ran his finger down her arm, then up again in a gentle rhythm, his touch whisper-soft, and watched her fall asleep before his eyes. Like a child, he thought with a smile. Although in all else, she was lush, bewitching temptation. The kind of woman that brought men to their knees. He grinned. Later – when their privacy was assured.

Rolling off the bed, he bent and lightly kissed her cheek.

He didn’t believe in magic, but if he did, he would have found her magical. A sweet escape from the cynicism of his life.

Although a glance at the clock brought reality back with a vengeance.

One fifty.

Miss Hart wasn’t used to being up all night. He’d let her sleep for a half-hour or so, then come up and get her. Covering his sleeping beauty with a blanket, he quickly dressed and went downstairs to have lunch with his mother.

It helped that his psyche was cushioned by a warm euphoria after an hour in bed with Miss Hart.

He could handle anything now – even his mother.

‘Really, Dominic, must you?’ his mother snapped as he walked into the dining room. ‘You reek of sex.’

‘You’re mistaken, Mother. Like you are so often about my life,’ he said, taking his seat at the head of the table, waving a servant over to fill his wine glass. ‘Did you have a pleasant time shopping? I see you bought a few things.’ The hall was filled with boxes.

‘I suppose that woman won’t face me now.’

‘Miss Hart is not “that woman”. She happens to be on a conference call. She’ll be down as soon as it’s over. As you know, Mother, if not for Miss Hart, the manager at our factory in Romania would have stolen twenty million from me. So kindly put your suspicions aside. Everyone isn’t focused on sex.’ He nodded at the servant. ‘Leave the bottle and bring another.’

‘You figure often enough in the tabloids, the headlines are often risqué, as I recall.’

‘The tabloids are entertainment, not news. I hope you
don’t spend too much time reading them.’ He smiled at the young man serving his soup. ‘It smells good, Zhu.’
Shrimp bisque; that should be French enough.

His mother barely touched her food as usual, moving it around her bowl or on her plate in the manner of ladies who lunch. As if he wouldn’t notice she didn’t swallow anything. Not that he cared. He ate everything in sight. Sex always made him hungry. When he was served the steak and fries he’d asked for in addition to the quiche his chef had prepared for lunch, his mother snidely said, ‘You should watch your calories, Dominic. If you eat that much at every meal, you’ll soon be as fat as your father.’

Dominic looked up, several fries in hand. ‘My problem isn’t gaining weight, Mother, but losing it. I live a physically active life.’ He shoved the fries into his mouth.

She sniffed. ‘Your father favoured those same activities. His fourth wife is going to end up being his nursemaid.’

‘Who cares? Let the man be, Mother. You’ve been divorced for twenty-five years. How can it possibly matter what he does? And consider, he’s still paying you alimony. I wouldn’t bitch.’

‘Must you be vulgar?’

He softly sighed. ‘Sorry, Mother. Tell me what you bought today. Antiques, I assume. Any new jewellery?’

Shopping was Letitia Knight’s
raison d’être
. It was always a congenial topic – one of the few they had in common other than that of his sister and her children. Melanie’s husband Matt was off limits; he didn’t quite come up to
his mother’s standards. So Dominic listened politely to a detailed account of his mother’s shopping expedition, added a comment here and there to show interest and fortunately heard her when she asked him about the China Club. He was able to reply to her question, which wasn’t always the case when his mother was holding forth on a shopping monologue.

As dessert was being served – crème brulée or chocolate mousse – Dominic pushed his chair back and came to his feet. ‘Let me check on Miss Hart. Perhaps I can bring the conference call to an end so you’ll have a chance to visit with her before we leave.’ He didn’t want any disparaging rumours spread by his mother; Katherine didn’t deserve the notoriety. ‘Zhu, coffee for us,’ he said to the young man standing at attention behind his chair. ‘And tell An, Miss Hart may want to eat as well. Excuse me, Mother. I’ll be right back.’

He took the stairs at a run, speedily traversed the upstairs corridor and quietly let himself into his bedroom. Pausing inside the door, he briefly debated the necessity of waking his houseguest. He had to, of course. Knowing his mother, if he didn’t squelch her suspicions he might as well put up a billboard proclaiming to the world that he was fucking Miss Hart. His mother was a notorious gossip.