Traded for Love (6 page)

A young woman answered. She wore a smart, modest maid's uniform. “Good afternoon. May I help you?”

“Yes, I'm here to meet with Mr. Stratford and his wife.” I couldn't help but fidget as the lie escaped my lips.

“Are you Mrs. Duncan?” she asked.

I thought my cheeks would burst from the heat flooding them. “Yes.”

The maid held the door open with a smile. “Welcome, Mrs. Duncan. You are expected.” She stopped on the landing and closed the door behind us. “If you'll wait here, I will let Mr. Stratford know you've arrived.”

I was flabbergasted by the house, which seemed like an entirely different world. Ornate decoration surrounded me from the marble floors to the plaster-clad ceilings. Each piece of furniture looked like it'd been made before my grandfather had been born.

“Jesus,” I whispered to myself. I couldn't begin to wrap my head around the fact that there were three more floors of this.

“Mrs. Duncan?” the maid's voice startled me out of my gawking spell. My eyes darted forward to the maid, who stood on the landing.

“Sorry, I just—”

“Mr. Stratford will see you in the study,” she said politely. “Follow me.”

The sound of my heels was muted by the red-carpeted stairs. We bypassed the second floor and went up to the third.

At the end of the hall, the maid knocked first, and when no answer came, she opened the double doors.

The room's trappings were exceedingly masculine. The carpets were green, all the woods dark, and old books were stacked neatly behind the glass doors of the built-in floor-to-ceiling bookcases.

Stratford sat at his desk. He was on the phone, but as soon as his eyes fell on me, he hung up on the person he was talking to without saying goodbye.

His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed hard. “I almost thought you wouldn't come.” I found myself unable to fake happiness. His eyes were glued to mine. “Do you know why you're here? Has he told you?” he asked.

“In so many words,” I said, fighting back tears. My entire body bristled at the thought of him touching me.

“Relax, Mrs. Duncan—or perhaps under the circumstances, I should call you Emily. You can call me James.” He stood up. “I said before that I didn't think you would come. I should have said that I didn't expect him to
send
you.” He came around the desk, and stopped in front of me. My eyes were level with his lower lapels. “There's no reason to be afraid.” His hand rested on my upper arm. “You have to know what it's like to be in my place. I'm a man like any other. I look at you the same way many must, including Jack.”

Our skin-to-skin contact made me tremble with a mixture of fear and disgust. “You'd be surprised,” I said.

“About Jack? Why? He's the luckiest man in the world. He can take you any time he wants.”

I clenched my purse straps tighter in my fists. “Maybe that's why he doesn't do it.”

“I find that hard to believe. All I've wanted to do since the first time I saw you is feel this body.” He traced his fingers up my arm to the left strap of my dress. “Who could resist you?” He leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to my shoulder. “Even the smell of you is intoxicating. It drives me crazy just to be close to you.”

His right arm wrapped around my waist. He splayed his hand over the small of my back, and I felt a rush of unexpected goosebumps blaze a trail under my skin. “Please, just get it over with,” I begged.

He lifted his head. “Oh, Emily. What I want to do to you is slow, agonizingly, deliciously slow. If you want fast, you'll have to go back to that husband of yours.” A smile spread over his face. “I can't wait to make you writhe in ecstasy.”

Before I knew it, his right hand found the top of my zipper and was pulling it down. When the halves of my dress parted, and the garment fell to the floor, he released me from the embrace. I could have sworn I saw flames kicking up in his eyes. “Damn it, Emily. You're exquisite.”

“Please, spare me the niceties. If you're going to fuck me, then fuck me.” I scowled.

He laughed. “You act like you don't
want
me to,” he replied.

My eyes widened as I shot him an indignant glance. “Why would I
want
this? Or
you
for that matter?”

Grinning, he cupped my face. “Because, I'm not your husband. You know I can satisfy you. It won't mean a thing, but I think part of you believes that it's even more exciting because of that fact, and not despite it.”

My entire body flushed as I stood, an exposed fool, in the middle of his office. “You're welcome to think what you want. My duty is to be here for a few hours. Once you're done with me, I won't ever have to do it again.”

He smiled. “I don't want to waste any more time. My bedroom is through there,” he said, pointing at the office's second door.

I walked in the direction he indicated and marched mechanically into his bedroom. A large, four-poster bed was on a riser against the far wall. This room did not look like it had a regular female inhabitant.

“I thought you were married?” I asked.

“My wife and I are separated,” he said.

“Good. At least she won't hear us,” I said frankly, flopping unceremoniously down onto the bed.

“Not so fast, Emily,” he said with a grin. “My real requests begin now.” He beckoned me with a finger.

Disappointed that I couldn't just lie underneath him like a cold fish, I stepped off the bed and approached him. “Kiss me,” he demanded. I drew in a deep breath. “Don't make me wait,” he insisted.

Unsure of how to properly kiss such a tall man, I popped onto my tip-toes and kissed him stiffly on the lips, then dropped back down onto my heels.

“No, no, no.” He chuckled. “You've got to make me believe it.”

“Believe what?”

His head tilted. “That you love me.”

I frowned at the marble floor. “I don't know if I can.”

“Then I'll have to teach you,” he replied, drawing me against him. “First of all, stop looking at the damn floor. Look at
me
in the eyes.” I did as he instructed, bringing my gaze up to his. “Put your hands here,” he said, bringing my palms to rest on his chest. His head lowered, his lips hovering dangerously close to mine. Instinctively, I clamped my mouth shut. “Open that pink mouth of yours,” he bit out. “Don't shut yourself off.” My lips fell open, and a tremor rocked my limbs. “
Now
you're open. You almost make me believe it, but the real deception … ” he brushed his mouth against mine, “is in the kiss.”

His left hand dove into my hair while his right squeezed me close. His lips crushed mine and I could feel the raw evidence of his need pressing against my stomach. If his instruction hadn't been illustrative enough of how intense this was going to be, his full kiss certainly was.

Our tongues were caught in a tangle and soon a growl escaped his throat. Overwhelmed by the force with which he held me, I almost lost the strength in my legs.

Jack had only kissed me like that a handful of times during our marriage. Usually, our kisses weren't so sensual.

He lifted out of the kiss, leaving us both breathless. “I can't wait anymore. I thought I could, but I was wrong,” he said ruefully. Without much more explanation, he scooped me into his arms (several feet off the ground) and laid me down in the bed. His hands were speedy travelers over my body, while his tongue trailed across the tight skin at my throat and collar bone.

“I have to taste you … all of you,” he said on the back of a heated breath. “I can't let you go without tasting you first.”

Before I could protest, he dipped his head to the mound between my legs. From my clit, to the soft folds, to even the insides of my thighs, he licked and sucked every inch.

It was hard to enjoy at first. After all, he wasn't a Dom. He didn't control my every move. His maneuvers were needy, lusty, and frantic. In this way, he was unpredictable, and therefore, a little frightening.

Not until some twenty minutes into his exploration, did I begin enjoying his oral attention. I was surprised when I actually responded to his mouth between my legs. My mind couldn't make sense of the fact that I was experiencing satisfaction without the element of control. I'd stepped into uncharted territory. In this unfamiliar space, I lost and found the peaks of my own ecstasy.

The most shocking discovery I made, was that I
wanted
pleasure—selfishly and without being asked to reciprocate. This idea, while it might not have been revolutionary in itself, was entirely new
to me
. I was used to having to ask for permission, or being granted the right have an orgasm. .

Now, I craved it.

And maybe it was because Jack had reduced me to this. I was his whore. And it was secretly painful. And it was secretly terrible. And in those minutes, I wished Jack was devouring me instead of James, but I knew he couldn't—and I knew he wouldn't, even if he had the chance.

But at the precipice, at the tallest height of my sensual joy, when I could barely catch my breath, all of those things fell away from me. All I was left with was the spasms of my tightened muscles, the curl of my toes, and the pure, uninhibited bliss which suddenly reminded me that I was a woman, and that I
deserved
to be pleased.

“Fuck me,” I begged. With those two words, the shock I'd experienced after my first orgasm was quadrupled. I'd just asked him, a man who was a stranger to me, to take me. I stifled a gasp.

James lifted his head, his mouth glistening. “What did you say?”

I shook my head quickly. “Nothing.”

“No, what did you
say
?” he asked, rising up on his knees.

“Nothing. Nothing,” I repeated.

“Say it,” he commanded.

I squeezed my eyes shut and dropped my head to the side. “Fu … ”

He took my wrists in his hands and pinned them to the bed above my head. “Look at me.”

“I'm too embarrassed,” I whimpered.

His empty hand ran down my stomach and swept over my wet sex. “Then I'll just have to bring you back to the point of desperation again, won't I?”

Working his fingers over every sensitive spot he'd discovered made me ache for him. “Come on, Emily,” he said between heated grunts. “If you won't repeat what you said, look me in the eye and tell me you don't want me.”

He penetrated and stroked, reeling me in close to another orgasm, and before I could stop it, the request came rushing out.

“That's better,” he said with a twisted smile. Instead of finishing me off, like I hoped he would, he took his hand away entirely. “Now I'll give you what you asked for.”

Simultaneously, my heart jumped with excitement, and my stomach turned with frustration and disgust. I still couldn't believe what was happening. James Stratford wasn't a good man. He took advantage of people's desperation. Now he was doing it to me, too.

I hated to admit it, but I craved this touch. It was an alarming realization to come to in the middle of sex, that my desire ran so deep. I wanted to be loved physically, to be appreciated and pleased … even if it wasn't by Jack. The honesty of it was painful, but sadly true and right at the same time.

James let go of my wrists, unzipped his pants, and slid out of them and his underwear without leaving the bed. When he looked down at me, unbridled lust was in his eyes.

He lowered his body onto mine, scooping his arms under my shoulders and taking my hair in his fingers. Using my loose tresses as a tether, he pulled my head back to expose my neck.

“Open,” he whispered against my earlobe.

I spread my legs for him, and a tear rolled down my cheek.
Oh god, Jack … What have you done?

James pressed each inch into me slowly. I bucked as he stretched me, filled me.
Too much
.
It's too much
, I thought in a panic.

“God damn it. You're so fucking tight,” he cursed under his breath.

His free hand scooped my ass into its grip and he stopped moving. I wondered if something had gone wrong. My eyes floated open. His face was flushed. Some of his hair had stuck to his forehead. “Hold onto me,” he said, his gaze not tearing from mine.

I wrapped my legs around his hips, and my arms around his neck.

He withdrew and made another easy press back between my legs. It was the first time a man had been even the least bit gentle with me, the first time I'd been given any time to adjust.

As my body became less resistant and more demanding, he quickened his pacing. Soon, he was using my hair to keep me anchored. The sting of my scalp's nerves added instead of detracted from the pleasure.

My fingernails sunk into his skin.

We were lost in the plunge. I wasn't thinking of my husband, or my daughter, or my duties. Somewhere in between the moments James spent screaming my name as he violated the sanctity of my marriage, as he pillaged the aching depths of my body, I stopped caring.

I had so many orgasms that I lost count, experienced things I'd never felt before … and all with another man.

And for the first time ever, I felt …
free
.

Two hours and another bout of lovemaking later, we were both exhausted. James had fallen asleep, but I hadn't. While he'd been sleeping, I'd been crying. It couldn't be helped. Something had happened to me, to the way I saw my marriage. The lenses through which I viewed it were decidedly less rose-colored.