If Wishes Were Horses (14 page)
“How about you say 'please' for once?”
“Please, Sarah. Lie down upon the cushions for me.”
She nodded, unfolded her legs. His hand went to her shoulder, easing her back. Hisfirm grip reassured her, and the luxurious pile of cushions he arranged beneath her
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supported her back, shoulders, neck and legs so she felt she could lie forever in that position without discomfort.
“Good?” he asked, kneeling beside her, his face just above hers, the planes etched by light and shadow like the still perfection of a Greek Adonis. Or perhaps Osiris. Hades. Adonis seemed too innocent for what she saw in those dark eyes. She reached up and slid her fingers over his jaw, startling herself. He sat still for a moment, letting her touch him, then he turned his head. He pressed his cheek into her palm so her fingers covered his eye and touched his brow, as if he was drawing absolution from her touch. When he moved back, he took her hand, closing his fingers on her wrist. He took hold of her other wrist and slowly pulled both arms over her head and left them to drape decadently over the pillows. The position raised her upper body, tilted the angle of her breasts and pressed her hips more deeply into the pillows.
“He said I was a dead fish,” she said abruptly. “In…in bed.”
Justin paused, his body hovered over hers like the shelter of a dangerous guardian angel. When their eyes met, Sarah set her jaw. “I know he was mad when he said it. He wasn't cruel, normally.”
“I’m glad to hear it.”
He had been mad, but his words had scarred. She had learned that it took less than two seconds to spit out something that could never be taken back, like bullets ejecting from a gun. A life forever altered by the discharge.
“I guess,” she said, thinking she was insane, bringing up something she had never talked about with anyone, “I wondered if it was true. No.” She grimaced. “That’s a lie. I believed it. Believe it. I guess I’m just thinking…maybe this was all just the spontaneity,the newness. But your class, it got me to thinking.”
He folded his legs and sat next to her hip, bracketing her body with his own bybracing one arm across her. With his other hand he took the edge of her robe hem andbegan to draw it up.
“Justin—”
“Just to mid-thigh, Sarah.”
He slid back and folded the soft cloth to where he said he would, though a high
mid-thigh, so she felt certain he was looking at her dampening pussy. Something in her stomach trembled, a knot of emotions and physical reaction that ached. Though she knew it was a warning she should heed, she lay still beneath his attentions.
“You have beautiful legs.” He traced a path from inside the back of her knee up the inner slope of her right thigh. She swallowed hard as he went up, and up, to just beneath the hem, perhaps five inches from the area between her leg and the soft outer lips of her cunt. His fingers trailed down her leg to her knee again, an erratic path.
“What are you doing?” she asked, her question a bit breathless.
“Touching your leg.” He tilted his head to fix one glittering eye upon her flushed face. “Just touching your leg.”
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“But it feels…” She caught her lip on a moan as he took the same path back up, the light pressure of his touch awakening nerves in places he was not even close to touching, like an erotic form of acupuncture.
“Surprisingly intense?” His lips curved, not in a smile, but something more potent, something that made her think of those lips on her flesh. “You’re a very sensual woman, Sarah. But you don’t believe that.”
She managed to shake her head, and then her fingers gripped the pillows as his caress, now at the back of her other knee, shot a shudder through her body. Her leg lifted to give him better access, and her opposite knee shifted, widening the spread of her thighs. His eyes grew darker, but still he did not move to touch her in a manner she considered intimate.
“As a cop, I’m sure you paid attention to the details tonight. And one thing you
wouldn’t have missed is how often I emphasized a woman’s most important erogenous
zone. Her mind.”
He bent, pressed his lips to her thigh, the soft skin inside, but a full foot from the part of her that screamed for that moist touch. Sarah arched, gasping as he kept hismouth in that one spot, his tongue creating tiny spirals on the small area.
He straightened, his hand sliding down her calf, then reversing his track, his knuckles trailing back up the other leg.
“That's the part you had to close down to do your job, Sarah. He couldn’t figure outhow to make it open back up and you didn’t know how to help him. So you both triedto make do by just stimulating your body.”
Herne’s voice was a murmur, so quiet amid the cacophony of sensations pounding her she could not rouse a defense against the analytical intrusion.
“I can do just this,” he continued, “and it will bring you to climax. A woman's cunt responds to forces the woman herself does not understand, not consciously. That's why a man has to explore below the surface—” his finger dipped below the hem of her robe again, “—to pleasure her properly.”
Sarah pressed her cheek into the pillows, bit down.
He spread out his fingers, used his palm and all his fingers to increase the strength behind his touch sliding up her leg, his thumb leading the way, a probing guide that stopped in the crease between pussy and hip. His other fingers curled, tightening on the flesh of her thigh, his smallest finger resting at the shallow valley between buttock and leg, a possessive grip.
He stopped there and Sarah lifted her cheek from the pillow. Justin took his time studying her, starting at her throat and working his way down, sliding his attention over her breasts, her stomach, still covered by the robe.
“What are you doing?”
“Sshhh,” he said gently. “I don't need you to talk or worry about anything.” He lifted his palm from her body, brought his hands to her face. He pressed fingers against
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her lips, teased them open, let her suck on his thumb, stroking her nose, cheek and jaw with his other digits. He slid his thumb from her mouth down her throat, down the neckline of the robe, and kept going when he reached the vee of it so the satin slid open in front of his path. When he reached the tie at the waist, he freed it and spread the garment open, so she lay naked under his gaze.
“All I could think about during the class was that you were naked under this, and how much I wanted to touch you. No.” He pressed his fingers on her lips again. “Don't say anything. Let me just make love to you with words.”
Phone sex in person, she thought, and wanted to say it, to ward herself with humor, but she didn’t. She endured the cadre of butterflies moving about madly in her chest and stomach.
She nearly screamed in frustrated desire as he went back down to her legs again, and even further down, to the portion of the limb below the knee. His touch slid up hercalf, starting at her ankle, just a slow, slow glide up her skin to the back of her knee, caressing the base of her thigh. He crossed over to her other knee, started down toward her other ankle, a triangle of sensation that seemed to focus the reaction of her entire body.
“My lightest touch here, this caress, makes your cunt get even wetter. Your breasts are aching. I can see the nipples getting longer, stiffer. Your thighs are open to me, without conscious thought, showing me your tender pink pussy, offering it to me. Yet itwill be my simple touch here, no higher than your knee, that will make you come.”
“Sure of yourself, are you,” she said, but her voice could have been just the whisper of curtains at an open window, barely moving in a humid summer breeze.
“Sure of you, Sarah. Sure that despite your practical, trained mind, you can imaginewhat it would be like if I took off my clothes and lay down full upon you, my fleshagainst yours, my body between your thighs. You can imagine me holding you, you wrapped tightly in my arms, close to my thundering heart, as I slowly, slowly, push the head of my cock into your cunt. You’re a tight fit, Sarah.” He leaned in as his hand continued its idle glide from ankle to knee and back down again, another caress to theback of her knee, the arch of her foot. “Your pussy is so wet now, I can see the candlelight glisten off your moisture. I want to kiss you there, lick that arousal, take you into my mouth.”
She sank further into the pillows, her body heavy with the weight of desire. Her breath was ragged, her hips and legs moving in a sinuous rhythm that matched thetidal flow of his fingertips against her skin.
“I like how your pussy pulls me in, Sarah. There’s a moment of resistance when I think you’re going to be too tight for me, then all of a sudden I am sliding in, like asword into a tight scabbard, oiled only for my blade. You haven't had anyone since youleft your husband, that’s why you’re so snug. I like it. It's torture to pull almost all the way out, but the agony is worth it, something that feels so damn good I just have to do
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it over and over, feel those pussy lips suck on the head of my cock, like a long kiss. Before I know it, I’m slamming into you, seeing how much of me you can take.”
She was gasping now, her hips rising to his words, no touch upon them but the heated air. The fingers stroking her legs felt like they were on her clit. The same movements he was making on the skin of her leg expertly manipulated that small inch of flesh that no man on earth seemed to know how to do exactly right. Or at least she hadn't thought so until this man did it without even touching the part in question. Justin Herne would make Eric Clapton
and
Jeff Beck stop to hear his air guitar.
She felt every press, pinch and scrape against her legs deep in her pussy, and in her clit. Her breasts strained upward in sensual response.
“Ah, God, Sarah. You make my cock so hard. You make me want you so much.” The hand drifted down her calf again, caressed her ankle, molded her foot. “I want to watch your pussy when you come. It ripples like the edge of a mermaid's tail, that graceful shimmering among the liquid…your liquid, Sarah. This time I'll clean your come with my tongue instead of giving a towel that pleasure.”
“Justin—”
The orgasm roared over her and through her, bowing her up against the pillows. Justin's hand never let up on its slow glide on her right leg, dipping into the sensitive curve of knee and tracing the fragile bones, and it was the same as a relentless and perfect masturbation of her pussy, the heavy waves of climax pounding her though he touched nothing but her leg below the knee. Her fingers dug into the pillows, and she rode the sensation, her body rocking and her ears full of his passionate whispers, driving her on.
“That's it. Come for me. Come harder.”
Her body at last slumped back, her limbs as weak as her first week of Academy training. She felt his hands still on her, touching quivering flesh, stroking, and then she gave a soft, keening cry. His lips pressed between her folds and he sucked the moisture away from shuddering flesh. He licked delicately as she jerked and convulsed in tiny movements under his relentless hold, crying out with every contact he made with her
rippling cunt. He took his time cleaning her, putting his tongue deep in her, then polishing the swollen lips on the outside with sucking kisses and long strokes of his tongue. He did not neglect her thighs, washing the insides, that fragile network of bones between thigh and labia to remove the pool of perspiration and arousal that had gathered there.
“Now,” he murmured, “until you bathe, you will feel that faint stickiness there, and remember my mouth on you, as well as your own climax. Dead fish, my ass.”
He tied her robe, arranged it over her sensitive flesh, and then his face was there above hers, his dark eyes like rich fire. “Come home with me, Sarah. Please don’t make me beg.”
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She never said yes, but she could not bring herself to say no. After a moment of silence, she murmured in surprise as she felt his arms slide beneath her and lift her up. She had apparently dozed off.
“Okay,” she said, her face against his neck, and then she didn't remember much else for awhile. The world narrowed to the flickering light of candles, and his dark, mysterious eyes. “I can walk, Justin,” she said as an afterthought.
“I know. Just let me take care of you.”
Those seven words, every woman's dream, almost never translated into reality. For this floating moment, she decided to let it be true, to believe it wouldn't become a nightmare. She was vaguely aware of him carrying her outside, shifting her as he locked the store, sitting her in the plush seat of the BMW.
“My clothes—”
“I've got them. Don't worry.”
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Chapter 10
The old Victorian home he lived in was in the small historic district of Lilesville, his
aunt's home. She had driven by it yesterday once or twice, musing about the man who
