Besotted (9 page)

‘Come here,’ he says.

I go up to him.

‘Have I told you how beautiful you looked tonight?’

I nod.

‘Have I told you how proud I was of you tonight?’

I nod.

‘Hmmnnn… I am in danger of being boring.’

‘I love boring men.’

One end of his lips curve.

‘Whoa… High alert… Edible sexy ahead,’ I whisper.

‘Serve warm, eat whole,’ he says as his hands move to the belt on my robe. He undoes it deftly and slowly leans into the gaping material to plant a kiss on my right nipple. My heart starts crashing against my chest. His large hands disappear inside the folds of the material and slide sensuously down the sides of my body. They come to a stop at my hips. He squeezes.

‘Amazing how I never tire of looking at your body,’ he murmurs into the side of my neck, while his fingers caress my throat and the blue stones encircling it.

The robe drops off, my head drops back. A trail of kisses follows. A small sound escapes my throat. Amazing how my body quivers like jelly as soon as he touches me. His hands grasp my wrists and pull them upwards until they are held high above my head.

He holds my wrists in a potent grasp with one hand and looks down at me, while his other hand roams my body freely, possessively. As if I am a slave in an auction that he is considering buying. I look up into his eyes. They are bold and dominant. I let my lips part.

‘My Jezebel,’ he says huskily, and takes my lower lip between his teeth. He holds the plump flesh between his teeth and pulls so I am forced to move with his head. I stand on tiptoe, skin burning all over, and wet between the legs. He lets go of my lip and moving his dark head away from me, gazes down at my body, arched and stretched out in front of him. There is a look of great satisfaction on his face.

He turns me around. ‘Hands on the bed.’

I open my legs, bend over, and put my palms on the bed, shoulder width apart, waist dipped down, ass high in the air. I know what he is doing. He is making me wait.

Anticipation.

I twist my head and watch him unhurriedly shrug out of his shirt, very deliberately pull the belt out of his trouser loops, release the button at the top of the zip, pull down the zip. Hook his fingers inside his underpants. Pull down. He stands behind me. Hot, hard, ready. I watch his glorious body eagerly.

‘Who do you belong to?’ he purrs.

‘You.’ My voice is hoarse.

‘Which parts belong to me?’

‘All.’

‘All?’

‘All.’

He kneels behind me, his face inches from my sex.

‘I can smell your arousal,’ he says.

I shut my eyes. I am so open, so exposed. Seconds drip by. I wait. I know it’s all a game. Patience and anticipation. My skin prickles. I feel his hot breath fan my wet flesh. The shock of his silky tongue swirling between the swollen folds makes my head jerk back. Instinctively, my hips tilt upwards, in a begging posture. I need him inside me. Now.

‘Please, Blake. Please. Enter me.’

‘Is this mine?’ he asks, and bites my sex.

‘Arggg…’

‘I’m sorry,’ he says pleasantly. ‘I couldn’t make that out.’ He bites me again.

‘Yes,’ I cry out.

‘To do with as I please?’

‘Yes, yes.’

His breath fans the flushed, sensitized skin. With his thumbs, he spreads apart the folds and inserts his tongue. I gasp and writhe. He pulls my thighs farther apart, clamps his mouth on my clit and sucks.

‘Oh God!’

Just as the delicious waves are starting to take hold, he takes his mouth away. Torture, pure torture. He stands. Is there to be no filling, stretching, or ramming? I am raging with need. To have him deep inside me. To be possessed by him. Frustrated and full of longing I look at him. Silently, he is gazing down at my open, greedy pussy.

‘Stay,’ he says, and leaving my body, gets on the bed in front of me. I gaze at his erection. My mouth is open, my breathing erratic. He is a fine specimen of a man. I have the strong urge to lick the meatus, take him in my mouth, and suck him so hard he groans helplessly.

But he has an even better idea.

‘Come and sit on my cock,’ he commands.

The order rolls over my flesh. I don’t need a second invitation. I crawl to him and impale myself on the hard shaft. The pleasure. Oh! the pleasure.

‘Sit like a frog.’

I reposition myself, opening my knees wide, pulling my feet close to his thighs and laying them flat on the bed. Then I place my palms on his body and straighten my own body. The penetration is too deep. With a small cry I push my palms down and fractionally lift myself off his body, but he shakes his head slowly.

‘Mine to do with as I please.’

Biting my lip I relax my arms and let my body take the whole shaft, gasping at the sudden pain. For a while he makes me endure it, the sensation of being too full, the exquisite pain of having him too deep inside me.

‘Your pussy feels so fucking good I could stay inside you all night.’

We stare at each other. My eyes must be full of wonder. His blaze with the excitement of dominating me, seeing me in that crouched position, my thighs wide open, his cock buried so deep inside my body I can barely bear it. I whimper, and he takes pity on me.

‘Lean forward,’ he growls softly.

Immediately I obey, and the pain goes away. All that remains is the pure pleasure of being stretched and filled to the brim. He pushes my breasts inwards and pulling me towards him sucks hard at my nipple, first one then the other. I start to move against his shaft and we groan in unison. My clit rubs against his pubic bone. Back and forth. Back and forth, as far as his greedily sucking mouth will allow me to retreat to. Rubbing. Rubbing. Delicious friction. Our bodies become wet and slippery. It is beautiful.

He waits for me to come before he allows himself to erupt inside me. I collapse on him and lay my cheek upon his chest. I can hear the fast, dull thudding of his heart, and feel his strong shaft still jerking inside me. I lift my head. His eyes are closed, his face is calm.

‘Are you sleepy?’ I ask.

‘No.’

I use the ends of my hair to tickle his chin. ‘What’s your favorite word?’

He opens his eyes. ‘Egg.’

‘What?’

‘I just like the sound of it.’

‘You’re one strange man.’

He chuckles. ‘What’s yours?’

‘Lollipop.’

‘I’d like to change my word.’

‘To what?’

‘Lana.’

I laugh. ‘That, Mr. Barrington, is the corniest thing you have ever said to me.’

‘No, really. Every time I say it, or hear it on someone else’s lips, it actually gives me a thrill.’

I feel lazy and relaxed on top of him. ‘We know so little about each other, don’t we?’

‘I know everything I need to know about you. Everything else I’ll find out along the way.’

‘What is it you think you know about me?’

‘Well, for starters I know you’re brave.’

I frown. ‘Brave? I’m not brave.’

‘You’re one of the bravest people I know.’

‘How am I brave?’

‘You left me. That’s brave.’

‘If you knew how frightened and confused I was when I left.’

‘That’s the definition of bravery, Lana. Doing something even though you are terrified of the consequences. And I am really proud of the way you handled my brother today, too.’

‘You are?’ I squeak, immeasurably pleased with the compliment.

‘When I was in the toilet I was so nervous about leaving you with him I was gripping the edges of the sink to keep from running back into the restaurant. But I knew I had to let you handle it, and I’m glad now that I did. If you can handle him you can handle all the rest in time.’

‘I hope you’re right.’

‘And if I’m not we’ll work it out together.’

Thirteen

Victoria Montgomery

If I had a flower for every time I thought of you…

I could walk through my garden forever,

Alfred Tennyson

T
his morning he calls me and tells me he is coming to see me. He sounds puzzlingly distant, but still, I sense that he is desperate to see me again. Finally. I never once—well, maybe once or twice—doubted that he would tire of that thieving bitch. I’ve always known—he will come back.

I look at the clock. He’ll be here in less than an hour! Feeling almost dizzy with excitement and triumph, I slip into white underwear. The silk slides deliciously against my fevered skin. Blake loves a woman in white. The slut knew that, too. Her underwear drawers were full of white bits and pieces. My lips tighten of their own accord. I won’t think of her now. Why should I? I’ve won.

I, too, can drive him crazy with need. I, too, can slowly strip and crawl on the floor towards him. I will unzip his trousers and take his thick manhood, throbbing with power and strength, deep into my throat. I will swallow what he gives me. He is
my
man. I will be Mrs. Blake Law Barrington. I will walk into restaurants and parties and people will see that I am the power behind the throne.

I look at myself in the long mirror and don’t just feel reassured and satisfied, but highly pleased with the image that looks back. If there is a woman more desirable than me then I am yet to meet her. I am a class act all the way. That woman—I cannot even bear to say her name—is cheap. Even the best designer clothes cannot hide that fact. It lurks in her eyes, her big lips, her silly butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth expression.

I dress simply in a mint green dress, its hem faultlessly grazing the tops of my knees. I encircle my throat with two rows of creamy pearls. Nothing elaborate. It wouldn’t be appropriate to display my triumph. Some decorum and subtlety is called for. And yet this dress knows how to ride up my thighs when I sit down. Maybe… He will slide his hand up the inside of my thigh and, moving aside my knickers, insert his strong fingers into me, one, two, maybe even three… Forcing them deeper and deeper, working them furiously, until I gasp. Until I come, drenching his hand.

I imagine him pushing my dress up so it bunches around my waist. He will roughly tear away my knickers, open my long, slender legs wide, and while I arch my spine with uncontrollable lust, he will eat me out like a wild beast. And I will hold him by the hair until… I climax again.

‘You taste so much better than her,’ he will say to me.

My legs are trembling and my knickers are wet. I push a finger into my own wet hole, and pulling it out put it into my mouth. This is me. That is what he will taste. Then a thought: You don’t have much time. I snap out of my fantasy. I must be the picture of calm loyalty.

Quickly, I move to my dressing table.

Nearly black mascara, smoky brown eyeshadow and luscious berry lipstick. I press my lips together, and let the color pigments spread. Nice. Very nice. I’ll just be soft and innocent. That always works. I dab perfume—potent and specially created for me—behind my ears, on the insides of my wrists and then a strip on the insides of my thighs. I do not change out of my wet knickers. I actually relish the thought of sitting next to him, wet. Maybe he will smell me.

For an instant I consider changing into something more revealing.

The soft peal of the doorbell stops me cold for a second. Too late. Mint green will have to do. I lay my palm on my stomach. I am as nervous as I was on our first date. What a night that was. We dined at Nobu and ended up at a party. How happy I was then. Everywhere we went people looked at us with envy. We were the golden couple.

I take a deep, steadying breath and walk to the door. My footfalls are light and noiseless on the thick carpet. With each step I become calmer, more clear in my purpose. I open the door smiling softly, knowing I am looking my best, and my face is radiant with the pure love I have for him.

‘Hello Victoria,’ he says politely.

His eyes. His eyes. So flat and cold. He has changed. He has changed. The rush from heaven to hell is dizzying. I am overwhelmed with grief as one is after a death. I take Blake’s hand and, bending one knee in a gesture of respect reserved only for the highest ranking leaders, kiss it.

‘Don’t,’ he grates harshly, yanking his hand away. ‘I am not my father.’

Confused and slightly unsteady, I rise. How different he is.

‘Please come in.’ I let the door yawn wider and he steps through. I can do this. He stands awkwardly in my hallway. I turn away from him and close the door. My heart is breaking. Has that fucking bitch poisoned him against me?

‘Let’s have some tea,’ I say, turning to face him. My eyes are schooled, innocent, seemingly totally unaware of what he has been doing with the
slut.

He seems about to say something, changes his mind, and nods. I had raised my victory flag too early. I have not won yet. He does not want to be here. He does not want me. I keep my expression neutral, friendly. We go into the living room where a sumptuous tea is waiting. As we enter the living room, I see Maria, my housekeeper, slip out of the front door.