Hers for the Evening (34 page)

Simon laid her flat across the big bed.

When he would have crawled down her body, Haley took his face in her hands. “Don’t tie me up.”

Simon felt something break loose around his heart. “I won’t.”

He’d never wanted to force her. He always wanted it to be her choice. Without physical restraints or mental reservations. His body covering hers, he took what he’d been dying for, her lips. Her kiss was sweet, then she opened her mouth to him, and everything burst out of control. He sucked her tongue, delved deep. She tangled her fingers in his hair to the point of delicious pain. He could barely breathe, but more than air, he was starved for her. He rolled, bringing her atop him. His hand fell to her ass, while he cupped her head with the other, molding her mouth to his, her hair falling around them.

The words were there on the tip of his tongue, and if he hadn’t been devouring her, they would have poured out. And terrified her. She wasn’t ready 225

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for his emotions, but holy hell, she needed his kiss. She moaned, groaned, angled her head, backed off to take him the other way. She nipped his lips, sucked his tongue, laughed, came back for more. Fuck, this was making love with your mouth.

He needed what the courtesan had tasted.

His breath rasping in his throat, he held her off. “Let me make you come.”

“Oh God, Simon.” She writhed on top of him, wanting it badly, as badly as he needed to taste her climax.

He pulled her up to straddle him, her knees at his shoulders as he clasped her butt cheeks in his hand. “Lower the bar,” he ordered the courtesan, pointing to the remote.

He licked Haley, one long swipe between her legs. “Holy Christ.” She was so fucking sweet.

She glanced up at the whir of the bar’s chain. “You said you wouldn’t handcuff me.”

“I won’t, but I want you to hang on to the bar, to steady yourself while I lick you.”

She grabbed it with first one hand, then the other, lifting herself over his face, and this time when he cupped her ass and brought her delectable pussy to his mouth, the position was perfect.

He impaled her with one finger, taking the nub of her clit in his mouth at the same time, sucking on her.

She arched. “Oh God, Simon.”

“That’s it,” Christopher said, moving next to her, stroking her body, arms, breasts, abdomen, thighs. “Let him hear how good it feels.”

She writhed above him. “Yes, yes, please, Simon, like that.”

Her juices coated his mouth, eased the entry of another finger. He found the bump of her G-spot and worked it. She began to pant. “Simon, Simon. Oh God, oh God.”

“Keep on talking to God, sweetheart,” the courtesan urged, caressing her with words and gentle hands, adding to her pleasure, Simon was sure. She flooded him with taste and scent and sound. His senses reeled. He worried her clit with his tongue, then sucked hard. Her voice, Haley’s voice, saying his name the way he’d dreamed over and over in the middle of the night when he couldn’t sleep.

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She ground her body against his mouth, squeezed her thighs tightly to his temples, and her pussy contracted around his fingers, milked his hand as if it were his cock. She let loose, wailing his name. It was all he could do to hang on, pushing her further, higher.

Until finally, her fingers lost their grip on the suspension bar, and she fell on top of him. Gathering her close, he stroked her hair from her face, over her shoulders, wiped a tear of pure pleasure from beneath her eyes.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered, a meaningless endearment to hide the real things he wanted to say.

“Simon.” She breathed warmth against his neck. “That was . . .” She seemed incapable of finishing. Holding him tightly, she bound him to her with her arms.

“It’s been so long. Make love to me, Simon.”

She rarely cussed, the word fuck wasn’t an everyday part of her vocabulary, and making love was just another euphemism. He was fifty years old, and countless women had said that to him. With them, it had been a sexual act, one he enjoyed immensely, but still just physical. Until Haley. He kept his voice calm, his face impassive, hiding all his emotions so he didn’t send her running. Only his words revealed everything he felt. “Yeah, baby, I need to make love to you.”

If she let him, he would make love to her for the rest of his life. 227

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9

HIS FACE CHANGED, HIS EYES SUDDENLY DARK GRAY, HIS LIPS UNSMILING. Oops. Simon had a phobia about the word love. Just as he had a phobia about commitment. Still, she’d said making love and he’d repeated it, and Haley would be damned if she’d take it back or ruin the moment. Christopher rolled off the side of the bed, watching them in the mirror. Grabbing several packages of condoms from a bowl on the side table, he tossed them on the bed. “Please, Mistress, may I watch?”

Maybe he’d seen the night collapsing and sought to save it, she couldn’t say for sure, but Haley laughed at his formality. “Simon’s the master. I’m just another submissive.”

The courtesan slowly shook his head. “No. You’re not his submissive at all.”

Christopher didn’t comprehend enough to realize that Simon would never be dominated. He was considerate to her, accommodating her needs. “I’ve never been watched before.” She’d never had one man stroke and caress her body as another man brought her to climax. The extra hands hadn’t frightened her, simply enhanced the sensations Simon shot through her body. She was glad it was Simon, though, who’d made her come.

“I would be honored to observe such a glorious act,” Christopher said with his most formal of tones.

Oh, he was good, and she found his decorum interesting. There was a ritual to the whole bondage relationship, right down to the language used. She rolled in Simon’s arms. “What do you want?”

She couldn’t read his expression. He’d gone . . . flat.

“Your choice, baby” was all he said.

Looking down at him, Haley was suddenly afraid to be alone with Simon. There was something about him, an intensity she couldn’t fathom. If they were alone, she might very well give away too much of herself.

“Let Christopher stay.” She rubbed the flat of her hand over Simon’s chest, hairless, firm with hard muscles, his skin bronzed from the sun. She crawled down his body to the root of his manhood, wrapping his cock in her palm one finger at a time. “This cock is beautiful.” She kissed the tip. He was big, thick, his pubic curls trimmed, his balls shaven smooth. 228

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He gave her that intense yet indecipherable look, his eyes the dark gray of a storm cloud.

She felt like playing, needed it to somehow ease the tension riding his face. She spoke, holding his gaze. “Ask our master if he’d like me to suck his cock, Christopher.”

Christopher was quick to comply. “Master, would you like Mistress to suck you?”

“Yes. I would like that.”

Dammit, she still couldn’t figure out what was in his head. She probably didn’t want to know. “Ask Simon how he likes his cock sucked. Soft and slow? Hard and fast?”

“Master?” Christopher didn’t bother repeating.

“Suck the head gently, then take me deep and slide all the way back up sucking hard, especially when you get to the crown.”

“Wow, a man who knows exactly what he wants,” she quipped. She’d never enjoyed this with Artie, his taste was too salty. He liked to hold her head, make her take more than she could handle. She was never good enough for him.

Everything about Simon was different. Tonight was different, a night to experience new things.

He reached to the head of the bed, yanked a pillow down to stuff under his neck, then stacked his hands behind to rest on. “I like to watch, too.”

Haley decided he was testing his control. Well, she would make him lose it, and he had just given her the recipe for success. She enveloped the head with her lips, licking and sucking lightly, teasing the slit with her tongue as she gathered a drop of pre-come. He made a noise, but when she glanced up, his expression remained inscrutable. She slid down. He was thick and too large to take all the way. She allowed a scant more than was comfortable, testing herself, and he jerked in her mouth, his body tense as if he were trying not to force.

She sucked hard on the long glide up, cupped his smooth balls in her hand, squeezed lightly, then circled the crown of his cock. He slipped free, she grabbed him, took him, stroked him with two fingers right below the ridge of his cockhead.

His breath came harsh, and this time his body moved with her, the taste of 229

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pre-come filling her mouth, not too salty, almost sweet. He smelled of fresh soap and hot male musk, an erotic combination stealing through her head. Weaving his fingers in her hair—“Oh fucking hell, baby, shit”—he pulled the mass of it away from her face so he could see. “That’s too fucking good, yeah, shit, baby.”

A flow of delicious, tantalizing words mixed with the thrust and grind of his body. Oh yes, she’d made him lose his control, and there was such power in it all. She sucked harder, deeper, better than she ever had in her life.

“Wait, wait, stop.” He pulled gently on her hair. “Don’t make me come, baby, I need to come inside you. Shit, please, don’t make me come yet.”

She gave him one last swipe of her tongue, and pulled away, straddling him on hands and knees.

He breathed hard, nostrils flared, pupils black and wide. “Pleased with yourself, aren’t you.”

She nodded. He’d had so many women, yet she’d made him beg. She wanted to ask how many women he pleaded for, but honestly, she didn’t want to know.

“Mistress, that was magnificent.”

She’d forgotten Christopher. He leaned against the bedpost, cock in hand. In her former self, she’d have been disgusted. Now, it made her want to give him a show.

Turning back to Simon, there was nothing flat about his expression now. His eyes smoked, his nipples were hard, lines of need etched his face, and his hands were clenched in fists as if he were trying not to grab her and haul her up against the door.

She placed a hand in the middle of Simon’s chest, his heart beating wildly beneath her palm. “Christopher, ask your master how he wants me to fuck him.”

Simon loved the word. He would love that she used it for him. He closed his eyes a long moment, dragging in a deep breath, his chest expanding, teeth gritted.

“Master, how would you like Mistress to make love to you?”

Geez, Christopher was laying it on thick, but Simon smiled, wrapping his big hands around her forearms. “I want your mistress to ride me so I can see her in the mirror.”

Haley glanced over her shoulder. The position was fine for him, but she wouldn’t be able to see unless she craned her neck. She nudged his thigh with 230

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her knee. “Move.”

He scooted, lying horizontal to the mirror, his feet hanging over the edge of the bed. “Now we can both watch.”

Christopher grabbed a condom that had gotten pushed beneath a fold of the comforter and tossed it. Simon caught it one-handed, tore it open, and donned it before she could count past ten.

He’d had a lot of practice.

She wouldn’t think about that now.

“Take me, I’m yours,” he said, offering up his cock to her. She flipped off her high heels—she should have gotten rid of them long ago—

and straddled him once again. His body heat traveled along her thigh, her calf. He was big. It had been over a year, but she was wet. Tipping her head back, she eased down on him as he guided himself inside her. Christopher was right beside them, caressing her flank as if she were a mare with her stallion.

“Oh Jesus,” she whispered, stopping.

“Am I hurting you?” Simon’s voice was hoarse.

“No.” She drew in a deep breath, a smile growing on her lips, then she looked down. “You can’t even begin to imagine how good that feels.” He stretched her, filled her. So much more than just his cock, more than just her pussy. “Simon.”

“I feel it, baby.”

Two quick breaths, then she took him deeper. “How does it look?” she whispered.

He turned his head to the mirror. “So fucking hot.” Sliding his hands from her butt up her back, his thumbs and fingers stretching along the outside of her breasts, he pulled her down. “Kiss me while you take me.”

She’d never have thought Simon could be so . . . romantic. Because it was, his words, his reverent tone, the heat of his gaze. She’d pegged him for a whambam guy, but Simon knew how to treat his women. She lay flush against his chest, her hair falling like a curtain over them. Christopher’s hands fell away, the mattress shifted. Haley was alone with Simon in the drape of her hair. Leaning on her forearms, she kissed him, parted lips, a slight bit of tongue, not deep, yet soft and sensual, twisting one way, then the other, sucking his tongue, his mouth, his lips. Nipping, licking. All the while with his hands on her rear easing her down until he’d seated her fully on his cock.

“Oh, Simon.” She buried her face against his neck, drew in his earthy scent. 231

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Goose bumps raced over her skin. Nothing had ever felt like this, the throb of his cock inside her, his heart beating against her breasts, the feel of thick hair in her fingers as she cupped the back of his head to hold him to her.

“It’s good, baby,” he murmured. “Now move. You’re going to feel so much more when my cock is rubbing your G-spot.”

He didn’t understand. She couldn’t explain. Sex had never been this good. Not ever. Where the feel of a man inside her was ecstasy, where his kiss, his scent, his taste were enough to make her heart skip beats. Simon pushed her up slightly, brushed her hair out of the way, molded his palms to her cheeks. He wanted to say it, use the words Make love to me. Yet some part of him needed the minute protection of keeping them to himself. She could slaughter him. Christopher had seen it plainly, he was pussy-whipped. Ahh, what a euphemism for the way he felt. “Fuck me, baby. I need it so bad.”

“Yes, Simon.”

If she’d called him Master, he’d have shouted. He didn’t want master and slave. Not even Master and Mistress. He wanted Simon and Haley. She braced her hands by his shoulders and pushed back. He arched involuntarily, thrusting higher and deeper.