Tempted by a Dangerous Man (6 page)

The only problem was that when I got excited, I stopped paying attention to my breathing, my sucking. I gagged, hard, my hips and knees squeezing in as I tried to curl up.

Corbin gave me space to collect myself, then reclaimed his position. His free hand—the one that wasn’t monitoring me—roamed under my shirt, pried under the tight sports bra and circled my nipple. He pinched it as he licked my clit.

He lifted his head and kissed my quivering inner thigh. “I’m going to come soon, and I want you to get off with me. I want to feel all that enthusiasm as you suck my dick, baby.” He tweaked my nipple, making me gasp, then left it alone. His hand stroked down my stomach, then his fingers were pressing inside me. Three of them this time, almost as wide around as his cock but not nearly as comfortable.

And I loved it.

I felt that he was about to come. It was obvious from the tensing of his muscles, the ragged, frenzied thrusts and the indelicate slapping of his tightening balls against my nose and forehead.

The way he fucked me could have been humiliating. I could have felt used, and that would have been hot. Somewhere along the way, I’d started to think of his physical manipulation of my body as a conduit to pleasure. Most likely because whatever he did, no matter how much he hurt me—or made me beg or plead or suck his fingers while he stared impassively—and no matter how long he forced me to wait, it always ended like this…
 

White spots dotted my vision. Corbin worked my clit, swirled his tongue around it while his fingers jackhammered loudly and wetly into my tight hole. I moaned as the jerking, erratic clenching of all my muscles shook my body.

I wasn’t able to keep sucking him the way he wanted, but he moved in deep, his cock swelled and rippled in my mouth, and I felt rather than tasted his release. I heard him grunting, too, but he didn’t stop licking me. I swallowed automatically, swallowed again.

My choked whimper didn’t make an impression on him. He released my hand, apparently not worried that his spent cock would accidentally choke me, and took his other hand from my slick pussy. He pulled my pants and long underwear down to my ankles, pressed my legs open wide so that I was butterflied, the sides of my knees grazing the rough wood.

His cock was still leaking saltiness into my mouth, and I swallowed it. Soft, he was much more manageable, and certainly more malleable. I cradled him in my mouth, amazed that his enormous, hard cock could turn into something so soft and silky.

And then he swept his tongue over my clit again. I jerked, tried to pull away, but I was helpless and vulnerable under him.

He gripped my knees tighter, an order to behave. Like I had any choice. He was too large, too strong.

“Love the way you smell.” He licked a trail to my lower belly, then back to my pussy, and, humiliating for me, even lower, tickling my ass. I felt my face burn with shame. He caught part of my swollen sex between his teeth, nibbled, then his tongue swept deeper, licking me, tasting me. Building another orgasm while teaching me that my embarrassment didn’t alter his preferences.

He’d done it before—gotten me off several times in a row—and I’d been shocked. This time, I knew it was possible, but it still caught me off-guard. I arched my back, the only part of me not pinned down by his hands or his hips, and moaned.

Like before, everything went spotted, but this time it all went white. It was like an out-of-body experience. Like I’d been pulled into another dimension, then slammed back into my body.

And heaven help me, his cock was growing in my mouth, which only served to excite me more. He really did love this. And even if he didn’t love me, he loved sex with me. It was more than I deserved, and more than I ever would have dared hope for.

I came again, shuddering, moaning, my hands digging into his shirt, trying to grab onto the rock-hard body underneath.

The logs scratched at my buttocks, thighs, knees. This was one of Corbin’s twisted sex punishments. So many ways to hurt me.

Even more paths to pleasure.

He pushed himself up, then gently pulled free from my mouth. His hands cradled the back of my head, giving my aching neck relief.

Smiling, he bent over and brushed his lips against mine. He tasted and smelled like me.
 

Mine. Somehow, inexplicably.
 

~~~

Corbin walked me back to the cabin. He hadn’t needed to, but I appreciated it. Little things like that were the reason I was completely addicted to him.
 

“I’ll be back in a bit,” he said, leaning against the door frame like he had walked me home. It charmed me. “Make yourself comfortable.” He walked away, boots crunching through the snow.
 

I slumped on the creaky bench and clumsily attacked my bootlaces with frozen fingers. I hadn’t felt the cold while we were in the shed, but I sure did now.
 

After I worked the boots off my feet, I scrunched up my toes, flexed them. These socks had kept my feet warm and dry. Really not bad for pink.

I stretched my arms, then my cramped hamstrings, and felt pleasurably sore all over. Wouldn’t need to go to the gym for a month.

Because it was too cold to just sit in one place, I made a slow exploration, starting with the small recreational area. Old TV, deeper than it was tall, dust like a velour blanket along the top. Dartboard, the cork looking like it had been chewed up. A chess board ready for a game, but a third of the pieces missing. I opened one of the nearest closet doors and found more board games, puzzles, an honest-to-goodness VCR, and some tapes. I looked through them.
The Shining.
The Evil Dead. Friday the 13
^th
. Never would have taken Corbin for a horror buff, but then I didn’t know if this was his cabin.

Next was the bedroom, at the end of a small hallway that was lined with closets. The bed was large, and when I tentatively sat on it, quite comfortable. It felt like heaven to my aching butt. The solid blue flannel sheets were clean and soft—not at all mothbally.

An absurdly large clock, three times the size it needed to be, hung crookedly on the wall.

I closed my eyes and lay back. Despite being sore and exhausted, I felt good. Really good. Strong. Healthy. And I couldn’t be sure if it was from the exercise and fresh air or the orgasms.

Rolling over, I got to my feet and continued exploring the bedroom. I found a stack of folded blankets in a closet that smelled like sawdust. The closet also contained a minuscule flat screen TV and an enormous DVD player, probably the first model ever produced.

I stuck my head in the bathroom—small but it included a tub—then exited the bedroom and made my way back to the kitchen. Poor Corbin. Though maybe he would see the lack of luxury appliances as a challenge rather than a hindrance. Turning, I surveyed the cabin from this angle and realized that playing darts would mean throwing them from the kitchen. Or, more likely, standing so close that there wasn’t any challenge. No wonder the board was chewed up.
 

And where was Corbin, anyway? It had been almost half an hour. I grabbed a battered Steinbeck paperback and fell onto one of the couches. Wind thrashed the trees outside, but the cabin seemed well insulated.
 

Corbin came in on a gust of Arctic air, his arms full of logs and long twigs of various colors. “Temperature’s falling fast,” he said, dumping his haul next to the potbelly stove. “Cold night tonight, I bet.”

I let the book rest on my chest. “We gonna be ok?”

He smiled and raised a cocky eyebrow. “Baby, I’m a protector and a provider. So long as I’m around, you’ll never want for anything.”
 

And even though he hadn’t managed to say it with a straight face, his words made me think of that moment in the forest, when I’d wanted to see him on one knee. “Forget I asked,” I said too loudly. I could feel that my face had turned red.
 

Grinning, Corbin checked the stove’s flue, then he lit a match and stuck it inside the stove. He stared at it a moment, though I wasn’t sure what he was looking for. Satisfied, he dropped the match, shoved two logs and a fair number of twigs into the stove, then lit two twigs, holding them until the hungry flames burned bright. He carefully placed them in the wooden nest he’d built.

Soon the fire had taken hold, and Corbin closed the stove’s main door. He brushed his large hands against his pants and turned to me, his cheeks still red from the cold. “You see the roof?”

“See it doing what?”

“Grab your boots and coat.”

He went to a door that I hadn’t opened. I’d assumed it was just another closet, but then Corbin flipped the light on, illuminating a narrow flight of stairs leading upward.
 

I followed him as I zipped up the coat, all the while appreciating how firm his ass and legs were. Good for thrusting. Knew that from firsthand experience, though I was more than ready for a refresher.

He pushed a door up and out, then stepped onto the slanted roof. “Not icy,” he said, turning to help me off the last step.
 

Good thing it wasn’t icy. A puny wooden rail was all that would keep someone from toppling headfirst over the side.

Corbin rooted around in the snow, then suddenly shoveled it to the side, revealing a little padded seat attached to the roof. He indicated it with a flourish.
 

“My burning thighs thank you.” I wasn’t aware of how dirty it might sound until after I’d said it. Corbin, watching the sun dipping behind the mountains, didn’t seem to notice.
 

Everything was now bathed in purple. The sort of light that would only last for a few moments. It was so beautiful that there was nothing to say. I absorbed the trees, the moon appearing in the sky like a pale ghost, the fading light. Even the cold didn’t bother me.

“Should keep an eye on the stove,” Corbin said, turning to go back. “You can stay if you like.” His voice was gentle. He disappeared down the steps.

A moment later he returned, though, and handed me a blanket. He dug around in the snow again and cleared off another seat.

“What about the stove?”

He held up a phone. “Hope you don’t mind, but I put your phone on fire duty.”

“Fire duty?”

He pushed a button, and his phone turned into a camera. Except it was showing the stove, which wasn’t doing anything interesting.

“There’s cell service up here?” I asked.
 

“There is, but that’s not what I’m using.” Corbin arranged the blanket over my legs. “Different technology. We get the good stuff before it’s mainstream.” He cleared his throat. “I would like to transfer your number to the other phone.”

“Uh…” I shifted to face him. “Why?”

“It’s more reliable.”

“And you can track it,” I said, needling him.

“That’s true. I can track it. Though I wouldn’t except in case of emergency.”

“I’ve been using the new one more and more anyway,” I said, pondering this. If we got into a huge fight and never spoke to each other again, it wouldn’t be a problem for me to get another crappy cell phone. “Yes. But only if I can give you the money that I would have spent otherwise.”

Corbin grunted, likely sensing that I wouldn’t budge on that. “I’ll set it up tonight,” he said.
 

“So if I wanted to sell that phone on the black market, what’s it worth?”

“Nothing. I can brick it from afar, short the circuits and leave you with a smoldering mess. Shooting star,” Corbin said, pointing. It was a brief streak in the darkening sky.
 

There was only one thing I wanted, though it would take some crazy powerful magic to make it happen. “Did you make a wish?” I asked.

He slanted a reproachful look my way. “You know if I tell you, I won’t get it.”

“You’re so full of secrets.” I settled back on the roof and stared up at the sky.
 

“Enough secrets between us, I think,” Corbin said. “The job is the job, but things not related to that… I think you deserve to know. If you still want to.”

I didn’t dare look at him, afraid of breaking the spell. “Like what?” I whispered.

“My wife. If you’d rather not know…”

“I want to know,” I said quickly.

~~~

Corbin didn’t say anything for several minutes. In the meantime, the cold was settling in, fast. I snuggled under the blanket and wished Corbin were closer.
 

“I knew she was the one the moment I saw her.”

His words were like a kick in the gut.
The one
. As in, the
only
one. Ever.
 

Foolish thoughts, I knew, and certainly ungenerous. The woman was dead, yet I was jealous of her.
 

“We met shortly before I turned eighteen. My father was a diplomat, and because of that we moved every few years. I’d left a trail of friends all over the world, and I couldn’t wait to get to college, be in the same place for a bit. And then I saw her, and I knew that Paris was it.”
 

“Love at first sight.” And it took every ounce of my self-control to keep the bitterness out of my voice.

“It wasn’t just that she was pretty, though of course she was.” He looked over at me. “Obviously I only date beauties.”

“Need your eyes checked,” I mumbled. “Continue,” I said louder.

“Her family lived in the same building that mine did. The first time I saw her, she was in the street in front of the building, on her hands and knees, helping the concierge’s daughter fix her scooter while an officious little man yelled at them about propriety. Because that wasn’t acceptable for a proper young lady in
l’Arrondissement de Passy
.”

“The
what
now?”

“It’s the neighborhood where we lived. Politicians’ kids, diplomats’ kids. The fellow stood there with his hands on his hips, his upper body bent forward like a hen while he scolded, over and over, ‘
Ça ne se fait pas, ça ne se fait pas.’
Telling her that her behavior was inappropriate. I saw her again the next day. She was with a group of her friends, and I was with two brothers I’d known years earlier, in Suriname. As our groups passed, I noticed that she was surreptitiously trying to adjust her bra, and I said, ‘
Ça ne se fait pas, mademoiselle.’
In the same nasally tone as the man the day before, of course. She started laughing, though all our friends were quite confused.”