The Contract (Nightlong #1) (5 page)

“Oh god… oh god…”

A fire rose in me so hot, I wanted to rip my shirt open, unfurl myself completely and offer my whole self to him ripe and ready.

I wrapped my legs around his head and he growled, adding some fingers inside me.

My hips pivoted up and down and hair became plastered to my forehead, the bed became wet beneath my bottom.

I love you…
I wanted to scream.

Tightening my fingers in his hair, I pulled hard and he moaned in pain, grabbing my hand to stop me pulling any harder.

He kept hold of my fingers, lacing his through them, holding my hand as he ate me out religiously.

“Please, Dante. Please.”

“What is your need?”

“To come.”

“Yes, Mistress.”

He kept hold of my hand still, the thumb of his other hand just pressing slightly inside me, against my upper wall. He licked along the length of my pussy, up and down, up and down, and I moved in sync with his rhythm.

The fire grew and grew and I almost lost my breath as my pants became faster, shallower, sharper and more desperate. He dug his hands underneath me and raised me to his mouth, holding me up by my buttocks.

“Ah, ah, ah…”

I started coming uncontrollably hard, my walls squeezing against his thumb embarrassingly.

It was the most wonderful thing I’d ever known as molten heat spread throughout my whole body and he kept going… and going… and going… feasting, his tongue tireless, his hunger unrelenting.

Eventually it got so painful, I had to fight him to close my legs and I rolled into the foetal position, shaking all over.

“I’m satisfied. Get the fuck off me,” I shouted, and he chuckled. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw him wiping his mouth with two fingers, a big smile on his face.

“I told you you’d regret it.”

“Sorry, but no. I don’t think so.”

“Next time, I’ll make you beg harder. Nothing else will ever be good enough now.”

“I’m not an addict and I can make this memory last forever, Dante. I could live happily off this memory forever and ever and ever–” I lay there still panting, subconsciously aware of his hand on my lower back, caressing me gently.

“Ciara, you’re–” 

I remembered nothing else; I passed out.

It had been a taxing day.

WHEN THE COLD LIGHT OF day greeted me the morning after, I almost regretted what I’d done the night before. Almost. I’d offered myself like a brazen slut but how else was I going to get anything done around here? I’d waited long enough.

No regrets aside, I woke groggy and in pain. I remembered calling out in agony a few times in the night but Dante was always there to hush me before going back to his own bed.

“Dante?” I groaned, again sounding like I was in pain.

I was.

“I’m here, Ciara.”

I shifted and followed his voice to the chaise longue opposite the bed where he had obviously been sat watching me sleep. Gradually my vision cleared and he took my breath away, his slim, lithe form sharp as steel in a pristine charcoal suit.

“Where’d the suit come from?”

“Sexton delivered it this morning.”

“Ah.”

I wrestled myself out of bed and walked to the en suite where I peed with the door closed.

“We’re meant to be in Paris today,” I said, raising my voice a little so he’d hear me above the echoes of what was hitting the pan.

Wearing just the pyjama top still I realised how ridiculous I looked and unbuttoned it, tossing it on my washing pile in the corner.

“I don’t think we should go,” he hollered through, “you need rest after cutting yourself open.”

Before I left the en suite I stood naked, and paused, contemplating my robe on the door hook. Instead of putting it on, I left the room and stood against the doorframe with my arm raised, hip knocking against the wood.

“Don’t worry about me, I’m fine,” I contested, when I was anything but fine.

I ached in ways I couldn’t even describe.

Ached deep down inside for the touch of him.

He covered his eyes. “Ciara, please.”

“Oh, come on. When you’re not here I roam naked all the time. Why should today be any different?”

He growled. “Because it’s inappropriate.”

Clearly, one of us was seeing things in the cold light-of-day sort of manner.

“Don’t tell me you haven’t got cameras in this place. I wouldn’t put it past you.”

He spread some fingers open and saw I was still naked. “Put something on, Ciara!”

“No. Not until you admit you enjoyed last night.”

“I–” He stopped himself.

I snickered, shaking my head. “Dante Sinclair, lost for words. Can only mean one thing.”

“Yeah… what?”

“Denial.”

“I hate it when you get like this.” He gazed out of the window, avoiding looking at me.

I stared at his profile, observing the wolf cloaked in sheep’s clothing, his frown one of deadly seriousness. Despite the anguish forever etched in his features, I adored his gorgeous, stunning face and strong chin, long nose, ears perfectly flat against his head. He was physical perfection but the rest of him – I worried about.

As my eyes strayed, I noticed the massive bulge in his trousers and slowly, I began sauntering over to where he sat.

“Ciara, no,” he warned, sensing I was drawing close.

“Hush,” I demanded, “I want you. Close your legs.”

I stood before him but he refused to look at me, refused to close his legs.

“You don’t care about me at all, do you?”

“I care,” he growled, a hand muffling his voice as he tried to contain himself.

“You don’t love me?”

“I’m trying to protect you,” he said, his voice low.

“Close your legs or next time it’ll be you I cut open.”

His eyes shot to mine in panic, or shock, I wasn’t sure. I had his attention, at least. Keeping my eyes locked on his, I whispered softly, “Close your legs.”

He did as bade.

I reached out for his shoulders as I lowered onto him, straddling his lap, my shins sinking into the white leather of the chaise either side of his thighs. Getting comfy, I kept my eyes locked on his and slowly lifted my hands to his cool, clean-shaven cheeks.

“I hate you,” I said, every inch of me trembling, the cold light-of-day thing scaring me to death, “because… because I don’t really hate you, but you keep this invisible barrier up between us.”

Rigid as stone, he didn’t move to hold me or kiss me, my nakedness arousing but not inciting him to react. I had to reach out to him through words.

“I’m protecting you.”

“From what, Dante?”

“From me.”

I gulped down my terror. Was he some sort of psychopath?

Shaking my head, I remonstrated, “Bullshit.”

“I’m protecting you, I swear it.”

I took a deep breath and leaned in, pressing my lips to his. It was a soft, sweet kiss that I would remember forever. My whole being shook. His lips were full and softer than I ever imagined a man’s lips could be.

Panting as I pulled back, my hands shaking on his face, I kept my eyes closed.

“If you’re protecting me, then why does this hurt so much? Tell me.”

“You tell me, Ciara. You tell me.”

My eyes flew open when his warm fingertips touched my throat, his hands resting lightly around my neck. He stared into my eyes and I whispered, “I love you.”

He searched my face, seeking a lie. I put my hands over his and put them on my breasts. Tossing my head back, I moaned and mumbled, “Love me back, or let me go.” 

“I should… get going. To work.”

The moment spoiled, I could hardly look at him. I turned my head to the side, my eyes firmly shut. I sat in his lap naked, utterly exposed and vulnerable, and all he could think about was work.

On a Saturday, too.

“I should go… I
should
,” he repeated, but then his lips kissed the thin skin of my chest, setting my heart on fire, “but the woman of my dreams just told me she loves me. So I don’t think I have any choice in this matter, not anymore.”

My hands wandered into his hair, my eyes still closed. His soft, blond curls were weightless and yet irrepressible. He brought my lips to his and opened my mouth with his tongue, slowly teasing me.

I felt so sick with desire, I had to pull away to catch some deep breaths and consciousness came crashing back to me when he picked me up in his arms and carried me to bed.

I couldn’t breathe with his hot hands on my thighs, my bottom, my back. Hot breaths in my ear as he kissed my hair.

After laying me down, he stood by the side of the bed to undress and I watched as everything came off. Suit jacket. Waistcoat. Shirt. Tie.

“Wait, please,” I begged.

I sat up on the edge of the bed and unclasped his belt buckle for him, slipping his fly down.

I pulled his trousers and his boxers past his bulge and he toed off his shoes. Everything came off and he reached down to pull his socks off too. The section of his body I faced as I sat on the edge of the bed was the most glorious of all body parts on all bodies I’d ever seen. His narrow hips had that sharp V indentation and his solid erection pointed sky high in front of a mass of blond fur on his pubic bone, a thinner, shimmering trail leading up to his navel. My heart pounded and I felt the same throb at my core. Reaching my hand out, I smoothed my palm along his length and cupped his balls gently. It seemed decadent of me to do it, but I brushed my thumb over his foreskin and licked away a pearl of juice he’d had there. I smiled with my eyes shut, savouring the earthy, salty taste of him.

“Beautiful,” I told him.

I stood and wrapped my arms around his shoulders, our bodies pressed together. We stared into one another’s eyes briefly before we shot together, arms tight, our mouths binding as one. He dug his hand into my hair and held my head in place, overpowering me with a joyful, triumphant kiss – his tongue dancing and tussling with mine.

He cupped my buttocks in his hands and lifted me, my legs wrapping around him instinctively.

“You ready for this?” he asked.

“Yes.”

“Say, yes sir.”

“Yes, sir. Anything for you, sir.”

“I love you, Ciara. I think you’re magnificent.”

Breath was robbed from me so exquisitely, I could hardly breathe but I managed a cracked whisper of, “Thank you, sir.”

He walked us to bed and laid me down. I wanted him directly but he instructed, “Patience will be rewarded. Now, arms above your head.”

I did as he told me and lay back in my messy sheets, wanting to apologise for them – but this wasn’t the time.

He lay by my side and stroked his fingertips up and down my body, slowly stoking pleasure in the deepest pits of my groin.

Light-headed beyond belief, I whispered, “Red.”

Dante had a safe word, Daltrey, but I didn’t have one. The only other thing I knew he would immediately understand was red.

He didn’t move from where he lay but he stopped stroking my body.

“Ciara?” He looked befuddled, but not offended.

I gulped and blinked through the haze of euphoria gripping me.

“I need to come, sir. Right now. I might pass out or die otherwise. My lower back burns and my core feels like it does when I’m having a wet dream.”

Eyes wide, he repeated, “A wet dream?”

“Girls get them too, especially when they’ve been starved so long. It’s when everything feels too tight and you explode into a zillion orgasms without any touch at all. It can be very painful if it gives you cramp. I’d rather you made me come before I get cramp.”

“I want to take this slow. I’m afraid, Ciara.”

“Afraid of what?” I begged, squeezing my eyes open and shut, trying to control my need.

I almost put my hands over my eyes, I couldn’t bear this!

“Well, I know you haven’t had sex in a long time.”

My eyes flickered open. “Had sex?”

“Been penetrated.”

“I’ve been penetrated recently and you don’t have to talk to me like I’m a child. I’ve watched orgies with you in Paris, remember? I’m not virginal and I don’t believe I’ll burn in hell for knowing about what goes where and how to put stuff to good use… you know?”

He almost growled. “Don’t get tart with me. Who penetrated you?”

“Permission to move?”

“Why?”

“To show you my penetration toys?”

He nodded slightly. I took that as a yes.

I reached into the bedside drawer and produced a sleek vibrator, a nine-inch dildo… and my rampant rabbit.

“What the fuck are these, Ciara?”

“Toys, sir.”

“I can see that. Why do you have them?”

I swallowed. “Please make me come and I’ll tell you.”

Panting, I squeezed my thighs together, trying to control the urge to rub myself to orgasm.

“Tell me and I’ll make you come,” he grunted.

“I use them to get myself off while having thoughts of sir fucking me on the bed, in the shower, on the chaise longue, on the floor, the sofa, the kitchen island, the stairs, the dining table, the grass in the yard, the vault box in the dungeon… sir.”

He threw all the toys to the floor and growled, “I’ll deal with those later. You get a reward for telling me about the dirty things in your mind.”

“I’m sorry, sir. Please, sir.”

“Please, what?”

“That little orgasm I’d like… right now, please sir.”

He sank one finger into me with ease.

“Wet, velvet, heavenly silk,” he told me, “are you ready to come?”

“Yes!”

He added another finger and leaned down to tongue my clit. I grabbed his hair for a moment but he warned, “Above your head young lady.”

I did as bade.

His generous tongue flicked over my clit, juices flowing from me rapidly so that his ministrations sounded greedy. He grabbed my breast roughly in his hand, tweaking my stiff nipple so hard it hurt.

“Please, sir!”

He sucked me into his mouth and I thrust my hips up into his face, screaming when his fingers pumped in and out of me. I squeezed around his fingers rapidly, all my anxiety leaving me finally, a wave of relaxing rippling sensations washing over me.

“Oh god, Dante. I didn’t think anything could top last night.”

“Neither did I. We were both wrong.”

Before I had chance to recover he rolled me onto my stomach and kissed my butt cheeks, his hands grabbing and fisting my flesh. He kissed the dimples in my back and showed them his teeth too, scraping his incisors along my skin. I heard him beating off and wished I could watch but I could hardly even catch my breath, let alone move.

“Uh, Ciara!” he yelled and came all over my back.

Rubbing it into my skin, he groaned, “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.”

“Thank you, sir. God sir, I love you, sir.”

“Keep saying sir and I’ll fuck you hard, Ciara.”

“Sir, sir, sir, sir, sir, sir…”