Platinum (Facets of Passion) (9 page)

“And you seem to figure it out pretty well.”

He set that foot down, too, so now her legs were widely spread, naked sex perched at the edge of the chair. He arranged the black gown so it fell back around her. Running a finger through the swollen folds, he raised an eyebrow. “So hot for me. It’s easy to tell what you like.”

She shuddered under the caress. Yes, she imagined so.

“We’re going to play a new game. You’re going to hold very, very still, while I lick your pussy. You may not come. When you think you’re about to, I want you to say your safe word. Understand?”

She nodded.

He spread the lips of her sex, but held her gaze. “We’re practicing two things. You get to learn the great pleasures of forestalling orgasm. And you get to prove to me that you will use your safe word, as you promised. Then you have to ask me to do it again. Tell me that you want it.”

He licked up her sex in one long stroke. “Yes?”

“Yes.”

“Such a pretty pussy,” he nearly purred and then pressed his mouth to her, a long deep kiss to her secret mouth that sucked the breath out of her body. It felt impossible to hold still under his relentless assault. Her thighs, already strained, trembled. At first, it wasn’t so hard to resist the climax, because he licked, nibbled and kissed through all her folds. Then he drew her clit between his teeth, sucking hard and she nearly exploded.

“Platinum!” she cried out, barely in time, and he stopped immediately.

He watched her fight back the orgasm, shuddering with the effort. “Well done. For that you get a reward. Don’t move though.”

She waited while he got up and disappeared from sight. Deep, cleansing breaths. Her sex felt swollen and hot, grasping at nothing. Steel came back with a frosted glass of white wine. “Would you like a sip? I think I got the kind you like.”

“Yes, please.”

He held the rim to her lips and she drank in the cold, crisp taste of it. He set the glass aside and knelt down.

“Would you…would you fuck me now?” she tried.

“Nicely asked, princess, but no.” He moved her feet another inch wider apart. “Think of something else. Something to do with me licking your pussy. In so many words.”

“I’m not sure I can take much of this.”

He grinned at her, wolfish. “You can always decline to ask for more. I like it when you model for me too.”

The thought of sitting still for him with this level of arousal was unbearable.

“Please…” she began, meeting his intense gaze, his lean, stubbled face poised between her thighs. Her hottie artist. “Lick my pussy, Steel.”

And his mouth was on her again, driving her relentlessly up. In no time, she cried her safe word again. As soon as it escaped her lips, he stopped, allowed her time to recover and offered her wine. Over and over he worked her, sometimes slower, sometimes faster, sometimes just licking the outside of her lips, stringing her along. Finally, she could take no more. She managed to ask for it, but, just before his mouth touched her, she shrieked out her safe word, knowing she couldn’t withstand the least stimulation without losing it.

He sat back, satisfied, watching her breathless trembling. Struggling with her unbearable arousal, she waited to see what he planned next.

“You can relax your arms and close your legs now.” He handed her the wine and she drank it thirstily. “Just to reestablish the rules, this game is over, so if you say your safe word again, we come to a complete halt and discuss.”

She pressed her thighs together. “The game is over? But, I…”

Steel grinned at her. “Feeling a little unsatisfied? Don’t worry. You’ll get yours. Eventually. Stand up.”

She took the hands he held out helping her balance in the shoes. They reminded her of ballet classes so long ago. She’d been a terrible ballerina too. Sliding his hands under the fall of her gown and pulling her into a full embrace, Steel caressed her bare skin and took her mouth in a deep, drowning kiss. Though his caresses were more or less chaste, over her back, belly, hips and thighs, the hungry stroking stirred her. She returned the kiss, twining her tongue with his, eager to taste him, feeling like she could climax from the kiss alone. Almost.

On a deep breath, he broke the kiss and held her, pressing her head to his chest in a secure embrace. “You are so fucking gorgeous, Althea.”

Why he sounded shaken, she didn’t know. She tipped her head back to ask, but he put a finger on her lips.

“Walk for me. Will you do that?”

She nodded, wanting to give him something, and stepped back, finding the balance point, arching the lower back just so. She took a step, then another. The black gown fell open with each step, parting like dark water to show her naked body. The rhythm of the movement felt undeniably sexual. Glancing at Steel’s rapt expression, she moved around his space, through the spotlights and shadows, her sex heavy with moisture, her thighs tense with arousal. He watched. Somehow both fully focused on her and far away in his thoughts.

She made her way around to where he’d been painting when she arrived. Something to show her, he’d said. She stopped, arrested by the canvas. It was her, in her hat and lingerie, the disheveled dress falling off her while she stroked her own breast and gazed into the distance. Her body gleamed white in a pool of sunshine surrounded by deep shadows that seemed to reach for her. The painting shimmered with a contained sexuality she could nearly feel, anticipation along with a certain wistful sadness.

“I’m calling it
Althea
Makes
up
Her
Mind
,” Steel said behind her, drawing her back against him and casually cupping her breasts. “What do you think?”

“It’s incredible,” she breathed, shifting restlessly under his hands as he caressed her taut nipples, “but you can’t show it to anyone.”

His fingers tightened on her nipples and he bent down to take her earlobe in his teeth, nipping lightly. “You don’t tell me, princess. Not down here, remember?”

She whimpered, letting him torment her.

“To prove it, I’m painting more,” he growled. “I’m painting the woman you are underneath all that cool class. The one who begs me to fuck her with such desperation.” His hot mouth ravaged her throat and she tipped her head back, giving him full access, grinding her bottom against the ridge of his erection.

With a satisfied grunt, he released her and, taking her by the hand, led her over to the wall. He’d attached manacles to the eye bolts embedded in the brick, and the sight made her mouth go dry. Silver chains hung down, finishing in a black leather collar and cuffs. He held up the collar and stared the question at her.

She backed up against the wall, gathered her hair in her hands and held it up. Eyes blazing hard with triumph, he slid the cool leather around her throat, buckling it in place. Excitement thundered through her, to be tethered here, like a pet in his dungeon. Steel cupped her breasts again, dropping wet kisses on her hard nipples. She moaned, unable to take much more.

He raised her arms over her head, buckling the cuffs around her narrow wrists and hooking them high enough that her arms stretched, even in the wicked heels. He arranged the gown so it fell completely open.

“Don’t move,” he whispered, and slid his hand between her legs, stroking her folds lightly. She wanted him to take her like this, up against the brick. But he walked away, leaving her writhing against her bonds. He set the partially completed painting where she could see it, and put a blank canvas on the easel.

“Steel.” Her voice came out ragged. “I can’t take much more.”

“Perfect,” he said. “That’s the exact expression I want—that hunger for what we have together. Tell me what you want, princess.” His hand flew over the canvas, sketching in the lines. She could only imagine how she looked now, the tension radiating out, the black leather holding her taut, exposed and aroused. She tried not to move, but her body had its own ideas, her hips seeking his touch.

“Please…” she begged him.

“Shall I turn you around? Paint your reddened bottom for all to see?”

She tugged at the manacles and rubbed that sore bottom against the wall through the sheer silk, thrilled and terrified. So many things he could do to her while she was his helpless captive. She groaned at the thought.

“This one I’ll call
Althea
Enslaved
.”

She sobbed a little. Steel’s eyes raked her and she thought she could nearly come from the look alone.

“You owe me, you know,” he remarked, sounding casual, but a feral need ran beneath it.

“What?”
Anything
.
Whatever
he
wanted
.

“From yesterday—you promised me something special with your hands if I untied them.”

“Yes.” She nearly hissed it. She wanted to scream it.

“Which hand do you diddle yourself with?”

She gaped at him and he put down the charcoal, striding over to her. Grabbing her bottom in a fierce grip, he pulled her hips against him and ground his erection into her pubis. “Come on, princess. I know you do it. Everyone does it. Which hand do you use?”

“My…my left hand.” Her face heated.

“You’re going to show me.”

“I—”

“You’re going to make yourself come for me or I’ll leave you chained to this wall all night. Yes?”

“Yes,” she whispered.

He unhooked her left wrist, leaving the other still stretched high over her head. The silver chain brushed cool against her skin and he cupped her cheek, staring into her eyes with a hard look. “Make it good, princess.”

He took the sketch off the easel and put up another blank one. Charcoal in hand, he held it poised over the canvas. “I’m waiting.”

Flushing hot with the embarrassed thrill, she slid her fingers into her own folds, astonishingly swollen and slick. It wouldn’t take much, despite his gaze on her. Maybe because of it. She stroked her clit and watched him sketch her doing it.

“Spread your legs more, so I can see.”

She did, leaning back against the rough brick, spreading her legs and, with only a few more strokes, shot herself over into the pulsing orgasm. She threw her head back, screaming out the pleasure, pressing her fingertips hard into her pulsing sex.

“Again. More.” Steel tugged open his jeans and grabbed his cock in his other hand, gripping himself even as he continued to draw. Her eyes fastened on it and she rubbed her clit, finding the rhythm that matched his. The last orgasm had barely finished, so the additional stimulation just ramped up, feeding on each other like a string of small explosions. She pumped her hips, wanting, needing more.

With a curse, Steel threw down the charcoal, whipped off his shirt and came to her. His mouth fastened on hers in a bruising kiss, even as he yanked her wrist back over her head. Eyes hot on her writhing body, he fumbled with the condom, finally getting it in place. Again his hands grabbed her by the tender bottom and she cried out. He drowned it in a kiss, and ordered her to wrap her legs around his waist.

As soon as she did, he plunged into her, pounding in and out while she wrapped her hands around the chains, chanting his name in a nonsense cry of soul-shattering pleasure.

Chapter Nine

Cheri was running late the next morning, so Althea opened up the gallery by herself. She put on some Vivaldi to softly fill the quiet. Steel had to be sleeping still. Not that she blamed him. She’d nearly overslept, after practically crawling upstairs and soaking in a hot bath.

Steel had invited her to stay, but she saw how his attention kept straying back to the canvases, fingers curling with that itch to pick up a brush. Despite her envy, she would never get in the way of his work.

He likely stayed up all night, painting in those images of her chained to the wall. The sketched-in charcoal lines alone were haunting and erotic. He’d captured a look in her eye she didn’t recognize. Though the woman in the images was bound, she looked dangerous, like a wild animal barely contained. Step too close and she’d eat you alive.

Sipping some chamomile tea, she held the delicate cup in her hands and tried to imagine what she’d do if he wanted to show them. They were good—possibly some of his best work so far. It would be a crime to hide them away, but they were also so…revealing.

Maybe she could ask him to change the titles, blur her face. If he hadn’t been using the titles just to tease and torment her. The things he said to her—they were as much a part of the foreplay as everything else he did to her. It wasn’t easy to discern what he really intended to do. Probably most of it was to see how she’d react.

She knew in her heart that he wouldn’t show the paintings and sketches of her if she asked him not to.

The gallery owner in her, though, kept calculating the prices. This work wasn’t just phenomenally good, it was ground-breaking. And accessible. No one who looked at it could fail to be moved—and want to have it.
Chalkstone
is
not
the
gallery
for
an
artist
like
Steel
. Her words came back to haunt her. But they were still true. She could just imagine the talk if she carried Steel’s outrageously sexual art.

The bell over the door dinged, surprising her out of her thoughts, and Steel walked in. Her body hummed at the sight of him. She was fast becoming addicted to the pleasure he brought her. Along with the feel of his calloused fingers, the scent of his skin and, oh, that wicked grin he was sending her way.

“Good morning, Miss Althea.” His tone brought so much more to the simple greeting that she pressed her knees tightly together under the fragile desk.

“I thought you’d be sleeping still.”

He rubbed his eyes. “Haven’t slept yet. Was going to take you for coffee, maybe. We could call it brunch.”

“What do you have against brunch anyway?”

“Not a thing.” He shrugged. “I think I could make an interesting brunch for you. Stay all night with me Saturday night and I’ll feed you a brunch you’ll never forget on Sunday.”

She bit her lip. Saturday. The Primrose Ball. “I can’t.”

He raised a sardonic eyebrow.

“I have…plans.”

“A date?”

“No—not like that. A society function.”

He waited.

“It’s just a fundraising ball. Command performance.” She laughed, trying to fob it off. But it sounded weak. “You know—boring and stuffy.”

He glanced out the windows, jaw hard, thoughts dark. “I thought Cheri was opening today?”

“Oh, she’s running late.”

Nodding absently, he returned his keen gaze to her and leaned over her little desk, planting his big hands on it so it creaked alarmingly. His mouth hovered dangerously close to hers. She wanted to close the distance, taste the warmth of his mouth. Wanted it badly. She flicked a nervous glance at the windows.

“Not here.”

He straightened. Tucked his thumbs in his jeans. “No, ma’am,” he drawled an exaggerated accent. “Wouldn’t want anyone knowing you’re fucking the downstairs help, would you?”

Her mouth fell open at the sting. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Oh, I know what you mean. What I don’t understand is what you’re so afraid of. Why you care so much what these people think of you? You’re a grown woman—you can have whatever sex life you want to have.”

“I know that.”

“Do you? I wonder, Althea, I really do.”

She fiddled with her teacup.

“You want to unlock the door to my basement, so I don’t have to go ’round back?”

Flustered, she hopped up and led the way to the alcove where the door led downstairs. She should give him the code. But it would be too obvious right now. Trying to make it up to him, prove he wasn’t the downstairs help. He walked immediately behind her, practically breathing down her neck. She tapped in the password and Steel pressed in close, capturing her and pushing her up against the door. He nipped the bare back of her neck and slid a rough hand up under her silk skirt. Pushing her panties aside, he thrust rough fingers into her sex.

She was wet for him, of course. Had been since the moment he walked in. He stroked the heating folds and she whimpered.

“So, this ball.” His voice was hoarse in her ear, his cheek rough against her throat. “Are you taking a date?”

“Anyone could come in—” She gasped as he pinched her clit. “Cheri will be here any moment.”

“Answer me.”

“I—no. I’ll go alone.”

“You’d rather go solo than be seen with me.”

“No, it’s not like that. I—” She cried out as he shoved a thumb up inside her, pressing on the sensitive forward wall of her vagina while his fingers flicked over her clit in a dizzying rhythm.

“What is it like, Miss Althea?”

She moaned, grinding her forehead against the door. She was going to come if he didn’t stop. “I can’t think.”

“Good. Now you have just a piece of how crazy you make me.” He pulled his hand away and she yanked her skirt down, spun around to see him licking his fingers.

“Mmm.” He grinned. “Better than coffee any day.”

The sexual frustration thrummed through her. “Why do you have to make this complicated?” she hissed at him, surprised by her own vehemence.

He gave her a mock dubious look. “Complicated? Hell. I’m a simple guy. Where I come from, a guy expects to take his sweetheart to the dance.”

“I’m not your sweetheart and this isn’t some high school prom! We’re having an affair. Sex. That’s all.”

“No.” The brown of his eyes chilled into charcoal. “That’s all you’re letting it be. You want to keep me locked up in your basement where I do the dirty things to you that you can’t admit to wanting.”

“What? You want dates? Rent a tux and have my father grill you about which college you didn’t go to? Should we have parties where our friends mingle? Go out for those champagne brunches you despise so much?” She stopped herself, realizing she was nearly shouting at him.

He seemed unmoved, regarding her with an uncharacteristically serious expression. “Give me a chance. Is that so much to ask?”

She opened her mouth. Closed it. At a loss for any words at all.

“Good morning!” Cheri burst in the door. “Sorry I’m so late, but wow! Do I have a story to tell you—oh hi there, Steel!”

“Cheri.” Steel gave her a little nod. “Althea and I were just discussing our arrangement.”

Althea willed herself not to blush. Unsuccessfully. Fortunately Cheri was all eyes for Steel. “How’s it going? Can I come down and see what you’re working on?”

Althea opened her mouth, but Steel beat her to it. “No. I don’t like anyone to see my works in progress.”

“I could model for you.” She made it sound like she knew what being his model entailed, with a suggestive lilt and a flutter of her lashes.

“No, thanks.”

Cheri made a little pout. “Just a peek?”

He gave her an aw-shucks grin and shrugged. “Artistic temperament. You know how we are. Althea—thanks for the information. We can discuss it further, at your convenience.”

She sent him a quelling stare, trying not to show that she registered the direct hit. “Goodbye.”

With a little salute, he closed the door, the thump of his boots fading down the wooden steps. Althea coded in the lock, the snick of it sounding ominous to her. Locked in her basement, indeed. Part of her wished he’d just stay down there.

“Be still, my heart.” Cheri patted her ample breast. “I’m gonna model for him sooner or later. I hear the experience is out of this world.”

“How so?” Althea asked, trying to sound casual. Not thinking about her still-sore bottom and now throbbing sex.

Cheri looked coy and laid a finger on her ripe lips. “Nothing you’d be interested in, that’s for sure.”

“Oh?”

“Let’s just say that the men you date are white-wine spritzers, and Steel? He’s pure moonshine. Bad for you, illegal and packs a powerful punch. Believe me—you would run screaming.” Cheri giggled at her own witticisms and sighed, casting a wistful glance at the closed door. “Now, me, I know what a guy like him wants. I just have to get him to see it.”

“That’s why you invited him here.”

Cheri fluttered her lashes. “Not just another pretty face. Besides—I knew we needed the cash to keep afloat.”

“About that—we need to have a conversation.”

* * *

When she went down to see him, he was back to working on the satyr, but he heard her descent. Unsmiling, clearly still seething, he set down the delicate tools in his hands and surveyed her. Just his gaze sent heat pouring through her. Pure moonshine. “I wasn’t sure if you’d come down tonight.”

“I wasn’t sure, either.”

He nodded, his attention straying back to the sculpture.

“Do you want me to go?”

“Do you want to stay?” he returned, fast and hard. Something dark, almost mean, rode him tonight.
Too
much
mad
in
me
…

Her heart clenched even as moisture surged hot between her legs. Afraid and entranced. He made her feel like the tiger in the zoo did, he was so raw and compelling. So very, very dangerous. She felt fragile and timid. And fascinated by the claws. “I—I don’t know.”

He stalked over to her, feral in his masculine grace, carefully staying on his side of the taped line. She tensed as he looked her up and down, mentally stripping her, making his plans.

“I have to warn you, Miss Althea.” His voice dropped into a drawling growl. “If you step over that line tonight, it’s going to be intense.”

“It’s always intense,” she whispered through her dry throat.

He shook his head slowly. “No. I’ve been careful with you. Coaxing you along. But tonight…” He flexed his fingers, just the way he did when they ached to pick up the brush. Or the welder. “Tonight I have a powerful need for you. To rend you open and devour all that precious reserve you cling to. If you cross that line, I’m going to have you in every way imaginable.”

She took a step back and he laughed, bitterly satisfied.

“Afraid of me? Maybe you’re smart to be. Run away, princess. Go find yourself a nice boy.”

“I don’t want a nice boy.”

“No?” He breathed the word, thumbing open the high collar of the coveralls, lowering the zipper to show his bare chest, the dragon coiling with promise, the ring through his nipple winking in the light. “Then I dare you to cross that line. Prove it.”

Her heart pounded, beating the thoughts out of her head. Moonshine would do that to you. So she’d heard.

She stepped over.

With an incoherent sound, he seized her, crushing her in a ferocious embrace that destroyed any chance of breathing. His mouth fed on hers with crazy hunger, while he pushed her glasses off to fall with a clatter and shoved his hands into her hair, unraveling the careful chignon. He smelled of metal smoke, sweat and musk. She didn’t care. She dug her fingers into the canvas of his coveralls, one of her nails breaking on the coarse fabric as she returned the kiss with equal ferocity, surprising herself with the desperate need driving her.

Steel grabbed the front of her shirt and yanked it open, the silk tearing, buttons flying away. She gasped and his ravenous mouth fell on the breast he bared with a savage pull at her bra, holding her hard up against him so she couldn’t escape back across the line.

Even if she wanted to.

His teeth and lips worked over her breast, tearing her restraint away, and his hand pulled at her skirt, snapping the fragile lace of her panties, fingers finding their way into her secret folds as if they’d never stopped touching her since this morning. And, as if the orgasm he’d started then had never stopped, she came immediately, bucking like a wild thing on his hand and sinking her teeth into the meat of his shoulder.

While she was still riding the wild wave, he tore himself away from her grip and spun her around, pressing her face-down on the workbench with a strong hand between her shoulder blades. The dry wood scratched at her tender nipples.

“Grip the edge of the table and hold on,” he growled.

Still shuddering, she stretched to reach the edge of the table, not easy with him yanking up her narrow skirt, bunching it around her waist. He kicked her ankles tight together, bracing them with his boots on either side.

And plunged into her.

She screamed at the pressure, the incredible pleasure of him pushing so hard past her compressed lips, feeling him impossibly large inside her.

“Don’t you dare move.” He smacked her flank, the sting arrowing straight to her inflamed sex. “Understand me?”

“Yes,” she gasped, burying her face against the rough wood, clenching her thighs.

He pounded into her and she gave herself up to it, letting him fill her body and her mind. He smacked her bottom again and she writhed against him, forgetting momentarily about not moving. Coming into her with a hoarse cry of gratification, Steel’s fingers buried into her hips, holding her how he wanted her, while her own continuing climax shredded every thought.

She was still gasping against the table when he pulled out. Listening to the rustling noises he made, she held very still and wondered what would be next in her ravishment. She thought she’d give him anything he wanted. Down here.

That was all she could do.

She flinched, though, when cool metal slipped around her ankle above the strap of her high-heeled sandal, locking with a small, sharp click. He dragged her foot out to the side and cinched it with the ankle cuff to the table.