Satisfaction Guaranteed (24 page)

His hand moved, fingertips gliding along the outline of her corset, almost touching her nipples, then sliding lower to touch her through the silk.

"So hard," he whispered as he rubbed his palm over one tight bud. Her breasts felt swollen inside the tight silk, and it seemed to enhance the sensation of his hand moving over her breast, stroking lightly over her nipples by turns. Then his hand moved slowly down to cup her belly, and Emma almost shuddered. It felt so good to be held, to be touched. And at the same time, it was almost more than she could bear. Her body knew the touch of one man's hands. Sex and Gage were inextricably entwined in her mind. Would she even know how to respond to another man?

"Wait," she said through stiff lips.

The hand on her belly pressed in, gentle, steady pressure exerted until her body was nestled into his. "Second thoughts?" The low whisper was punctuated by a soft kiss in the hollow below her ear.

Second, third, fourth, fifth—they collided in her brain
until she was almost dizzy. Or maybe that was from his breath tickling the nape of her neck, his hand rubbing slow circles over her belly, massaging her into relaxing in his hold. "I don't know if I can do this," Emma admitted. "I've never . . . that is, I've only . . ." Her voice trailed off into uncertainty.

"You've never done anything like this." A soft whisper, a kiss on the curve of her shoulder that slid over her skin like silk. "I won't hurt you."

"I might not be any good," Emma said baldly. "I might disappoint you."

"Let me worry about that." His lips feathered along the line of her neck. "Tonight, you are my captive. I arranged for you to be delivered to me, blindfolded and gift-wrapped. And I have plans for you, lovely Emma. Plans for your pleasure and mine."

His whisper was as seductive as his words. Emma leaned back against him as his hand moved up to cup her breast and hold the weight of it before squeezing the soft mound of flesh in his firm grip. The room looked dim through her blindfold, as if the blinds had been drawn and the lights turned off or lowered before she arrived. She was being touched and held by a faceless, voiceless stranger, a phantom lover. It seemed she'd stepped through a doorway into a dream.

"First, I want to remove this coat. And then I want you to sit with me by the fire."

So that was the source of the low light in the room. Emma thought of being nearly naked in the soft glow of firelight while a stranger enjoyed the sight of her body displayed as he'd wanted it. A shiver ran through her. She
didn't resist when he let the coat drop to the carpet and took her hand to lead her where he wanted her.

He put his hands on her shoulders and pushed down lightly, indicating that she was to sit. Emma lowered herself until she felt a couch cushioning her naked bottom. She touched the fabric, exploring with her hands. Velvet. The brush of velvet against her bare skin was a pleasure in itself. The silk she wore caressed her breasts and her sex, and the fragile stockings whispered when her thighs brushed together.

He moved in front of her and placed his hands on her knees, letting her adjust to his touch before he used his hold to open her legs. He pushed her knees wide apart, then gently stroked up the insides of her thighs, sliding back down before he touched the silk between her legs.

His hands on her felt warm, strong, knowledgeable. She felt him bend forward, felt a puff of warm air against her sex through the thin silk, and drew in a sharp breath at the sensation. His lips touched the fabric, lightly tracing the outline of her labia. His tongue probed for the sensitive bud nestled in its protective hood of flesh. The silk seemed to amplify the touch of his lips and tongue. Emma felt her breathing quicken and her belly tighten in response. Then he lifted his head and straightened. His hands stayed on her thighs, warm and sure, squeezing lightly, then stroking up her hips.

"I will have you," the low whisper in the near dark told her. "But not yet. When I do take you, sweet Emma, you will be ready for me, and you will not disappoint either of us."

Those hands moved up her hips along her rib cage, then cupped her breast in a possessive hold. His thumbs stroked over her nipples, and Emma sighed as the warmth of his
touch and the cool silk combined to tantalize her nerve endings with the promise of pleasure to come.

When he released her and moved away, she missed his touch immediately. She heard sounds and strained to identify them. A light scrape of glass against ice, a muted pop, then a fluid sound. Champagne? She could hear him moving around, his footfalls partially muffled by the thick carpet. Two glasses were placed on a table near her. And something else, a more solid-sounding object.

Emma felt the couch cushion sink beside her, followed by the warm press of his thigh against hers. Then a sliding sound, like a lid being lifted off a dish. A moment later, something pressed against her lips. "Open," whispered her mystery seducer. "You'll like it."

She parted her lips and felt something firm and cool sliding between them. The shape was not quite round. A strawberry? She bit down tentatively and felt the burst of sweet flavor on her tongue with the bite of citrus. Yes, a strawberry.

Emma savored the taste, surprised at what a sensual experience it was to be fed while blindfolded, having to depend on her hearing and sense of touch and taste to feel her way through this dream world.

The rim of a glass touched her lips next, and Emma sipped, ready for the effervescent bubbles that danced in her mouth and washed the berry down.

A second strawberry came dipped in champagne. She could taste the wine mixed with the fruit, her tongue alive to the subtle difference in flavor. Another sip of champagne tickled her throat.

"Open wide," he whispered to her. Something different
this time? Emma opened her mouth wider as instructed and felt another berry pressed between her lips. This time, the sides were smooth and hard, and she felt the difference before the dark, rich chocolate the berry had been dipped in melted on her tongue.

"Mmm," she sighed when her mouth was empty. The taste of chocolate lingered, and the next cool sip of champagne mixed with it in a burst of flavor.

She heard the glass settle back on the table and felt something small and firm wedge into the cleft between her full breasts. "My turn," she heard him whisper, then his head lowered to take the strawberry he'd placed in her cleavage.

Champagne swirled in her head, silk and velvet whispered against her skin, the remembered bite of strawberries, and the smooth slide of dark chocolate all seduced her senses while he ate the fruit between her breasts and kissed each warm, exposed curve in turn.

"I like the taste of berries," she heard, then felt his fingers take the edge of the silk corset and fold down the fabric to expose her nipples. He moved beside her, doing something, and she didn't know what until his fingers brushed the hard, tight buds he'd bared with something warm and not quite liquid.

"I especially like them dipped in chocolate," he murmured as his head came down. His mouth closed over her nipple, drawing it in, lapping at it with his tongue, sucking until she heard a low moan and realized with a shock that it had come from her. He gave both nipples equal treatment, and by the time he'd had his chocolate-dipped berry treat, her stomach muscles were quivering and the wisp of silk between her legs was damp.

Her nipples felt swollen and red like the berries he'd called them, ripe and ready. She felt as exotic as dark chocolate, as bubbly as champagne, as sensual and beautiful as the silk she wore.

"Lie back," her lover whispered, and then guided her body down to lie on the couch. He lifted one leg and bent it at the knee, then let her foot rest on the floor. The other leg extended straight. Then he slipped off her shoes by turns and sat at the far end of the couch, where he lifted her stocking-clad foot into his lap.

Emma closed her eyes under the blindfold and gave herself up to sensation. Warm hands stroked from her foot up her calf to her knee and back down. Light pressure, gliding along her skin in a slow exploration, finding the sensitive hollow behind her knee, paying attention to the shape of her ankles. He touched her as if all of her interested him equally, not just the obvious places. He didn't speak, and neither did she. The silence felt light rather than leaden, easy, without the awkwardness she'd expected.

When he finished with her first leg, he let her foot rest in his lap while he picked up the other. Emma drifted in a soft cloud of sensual stimulation, all of it so smooth and gentle that it slid under her defenses. How could she brace herself against a whisper, against the touch of silk and velvet on bare skin, the sweet and distinctly different tastes and textures of berry, chocolate, and sparkling wine?

If he'd stripped her at the door, she would have frozen. But skilled hands on her body that gave her pleasure while making no attempt to rush her or remove anything more than her coat and shoes lulled her and let her give herself up to the moment. It wasn't sex. It was sensual and erotic and
enticing. It was irresistible. And Emma had no idea until he lavished it on her how she craved it. The heady blend of sensory delights and the knowledge that she was dressed and delivered for a night of seduction played on her imagination.

She was in the hands of a man who could do anything he wished with her. She'd given him permission in advance, agreed to be his for a night with only the assurance that he was a compatible match who'd fulfilled all the agency requirements and had passed the in-depth screening. He'd wanted complete anonymity, and she'd agreed because the more a stranger he was to her, the more unreal the encounter was, the easier she found it to follow through.

Emma could feel cool air against her belly and her upper thighs where her skin was completely exposed. Her nipples were bared to him with the corset folded back, and even though he wasn't touching her there, the knowledge that he could look or touch at will kept her body in a state of erotic suspense.

She felt him move and wasn't sure what he planned next. When chilled liquid pooled in her navel, she gasped—then sighed as she felt his tongue lap up the champagne, his mouth on her belly warm and wicked. The skin around her navel proved surprisingly sensitive. His mouth exploring her there had her body drawing tight in response, her breasts swelling against their silk prison, her sex growing warm and slick and aching for attention.

It shocked her that she could respond so readily to a stranger. Then again, physical needs were physical needs, and hers had been neglected for far too long. And the masculine attention he lavished on her was a healing balm to her spirit
and her feminine confidence. Proof that her body was desirable, in spite of everything. . . .

"Where did you go?" The low whisper reached her ears, and Emma realized she'd stiffened during her mental wandering. She'd started to think about what she was doing, about Gage, and why she was here about to have sex with a strange man. He'd noticed the tension in her body and stopped.

"I was thinking," Emma admitted. "You're not what I expected."

"What did you expect?" She felt the couch dip as he shifted position, sitting back. His hands rested on her legs, a light touch, not moving away from her but halting his seduction. Or maybe shifting course, Emma thought. A man who listened to her, that was every bit as seductive as one who fed her strawberries and champagne and touched her as if he had all the time in the world for preliminaries. Or as if the preliminaries were enough in themselves.

"I didn't expect you to be so patient, for starters," Emma said. "And I didn't expect to like having you touch me." Maybe it was the blindfold, the fact that he was a stranger, or the champagne. Or all three combined. But she found it easy to be honest without hedging or trying to be diplomatic.

"You expected it to be like eating your vegetables? An unpleasant thing to endure? Something to do quickly and get it over with?" His voice sounded almost choked.

Dammit, was he laughing at her? Emma was tempted to rip off the blindfold and find out. "No," she said. "But you didn't have to feed me strawberries or sit with me while I relaxed with you. And I thought it would be harder. You know from my profile I've had limited experience. Limited to one partner, to be specific. I thought it would feel strange
or wrong or just uncomfortable, but I like having you touch me. I didn't expect that."

"I'm glad." He bent and placed a kiss just above her knee. "I want you to enjoy yourself, Emma."

"Shouldn't I know your name if you know mine?" Emma relaxed into the couch again as she asked the question. She didn't know if she wanted to know his real name, but could she continue to think of him as a phantom, a dream lover? She ought to call him something—he had gone to so much trouble for her, he deserved to be given a name, if only in her own mind.

"What would you like to call me?" He asked the question in a soft voice before brushing a kiss above her opposite knee, giving each leg equal time.

"I don't know," Emma admitted. It was problematic. John Doe was too generic, too pragmatic. The Phantom was too dramatic. "Adam?"

The first man. That seemed appropriately symbolic. The first man in her new life, and if tonight wasn't all about the fruit of forbidden knowledge, what was? Following the story further, she intended to fall with him and to find her way back to her old life barred forever afterward. The myth fit the man.

"Adam." He kissed her thigh, a warm brush of lips she felt through the thin membrane of her stockings as if they weren't there. "I like it."