Knight 01 Knight And Play (14 page)

His arms moved to hold her against him, her breasts crushed against the wall of his chest. Sophie clung to him, wiped out by the tenderness of his kiss. “Princess,” he whispered against her lips, his hands between their bodies to cradle the fullness of her breasts.

“Lucien…” she breathed, swept away by how good his hands made her feel. He reached down and lifted her clean off her feet, and she wrapped her legs around his waist as his hands cupped her bottom. She revelled in the sensation of his strength around her softness. They both groaned in response to the way her sex cradled his erection, and he moved her slightly to accommodate him fully between her legs. His mouth never left hers as he crossed the room to lay her down on the plump cushions of the sofa. He covered her body with his own, and Sophie sighed with primal satisfaction at his weight over hers.

From the moment she’d met Lucien he’d radiated danger and lust, but right at that moment, cocooned beneath the warmth of his chest, he gave her the last thing she expected, and it turned out to be the thing she needed most of all. He gave her safe harbour. She felt protected in his arms.

She hadn’t anticipated how incredibly sweet his kiss could be, or how gentle his hands might be as they slid her knickers down her legs. There was no talk of blindfolds, no glance towards the toys lined up on the table. Sophie sensed that this was probably outside of Lucien’s plan, and she treasured him all the more for understanding what she needed. The breath jarred in her throat as his fingers moved to unbutton his jeans. For all that had happened between them, she’d yet to see him naked. The final barrier. He reached into his pocket for a condom, and then kicked his jeans off.

For a few seconds,
Lucien simply settled his body over the length of hers and held her, giving her time to accept the weight of his erection against her abdomen. Sophie melted.
She wanted him. Christ she wanted him.
There was no doubt, there were no second thoughts. Lucien had kissed them all away. He ripped the foil packet of the condom with his teeth and sheathed himself, them settled back between her legs with his forearms either side of her head.

“Open your eyes,” he murmured as his knee moved between hers. Sophie lifted her lashes, and Lucien’s clear blue gaze locked with hers as he tipped his hips slowly, his rock hard length stoking delicious friction back and forth over her clitoris. “Feel good?” A lazy half smile touched his lips. Sophie bit down on her lip to hold the cry of pleasure inside. This man was something else when it came to confidence.
Jesus, yes. You know it feels good.

Lucien’s tender thumbs stroked the rogue tears from her cheeks, and his feather kisses traced her lips as he positioned himself. 

Sophie clutched him, her fingernails digging arcs into his shoulders. He was strength, and he was magnificence, and as his beautiful hard cock sliced decisively into her, he became her Viking lover.  Sophie cried out his name as he filled her, foreign and mysterious, and each thrust sent lust spiralling higher, tighter, deeper… more, more, more. Euphoria mingled with physical pleasure, building with Lucien’s every stroke and thrust.

More. More. More.
  Boneless and mindless, she was a pool of heat and desire underneath his mastery.

His hand cupped her face as his other snaked between their damp bodies, and Sophie gulped in dry air as he thumbed her clitoris. Thrust. Stroke. Rub. Thrust. Stroke. Rub. He set up a trinity of motion, and with every repetition he pushed Sophie closer and closer towards the edge of control.

His eyes still held her gaze, and she could see the effort in his clenched jaw as he held his own pleasure back for hers. His thumb was still stroking her clitoris, and his tongue mirrored the movement in her mouth.

“You. Are. Fucking. Amazing,” he ground out, punctuating each word with a deeper thrust. Sophie’s fingers curved around his nape as her hips started to buck uncontrollably, and Lucien read her cues well and switched from slow and deep to fast and hard. His tongue in her mouth, his cock buried inside her.
Faster, harder, yes, yes, yes!
Sophie’s orgasm exploded through her body, making her shudder and jolt beneath him. Lucien threw his head back and pumped his hips, leaving her nowhere to go but further over the top with him. They moved in frenzied, primal unison.

Animal.

Feral.

Sensational.

Lucien rested his forehead against Sophie’s, the aftermath of his orgasm still vibrating through his groin. He hadn’t intended this to happen in quite such a vanilla way, but one look at at Sophie’s vulnerable face and his hunter-protector gene had kicked in hard. Most of all he’d wanted to settle her, to comfort her, to gentle rather than shock her into submission.

He kissed the tip of her nose. Shocking her was next on his agenda.

Sophie wound the belt of the short, white towelling robe around her waist and knotted it, glad that Lucien had been thoughtful enough to provide it. He had slid back into his battered jeans. The toys still sat central on the coffee table, and she did her best not to look in their direction as she padded through to the open plan kitchen after Lucien.

Pristine white gloss and stainless steel units lined the walls in unbroken ranks; it was clear to Sophie that this wasn’t a kitchen that saw much in the way of action. Or not cooking, at least.

It was a little after nine, and dusk had turned the sky outside a deep petrol blue and the trees around the house into spindled black shadows. Not quite night time, but almost there. Sophie sensed, with a minute thrill, that it would nonetheless be a long time until bedtime.

As she entered the kitchen, Lucien was standing with his back towards her, lit by the soft light from inside the huge stainless steel fridge he was reaching into. She was pulled up sharply by the beautiful monochrome tattoo inked across his broad shoulders.

An intricately detailed lone wolf, bound around with ropes and vines stretched from shoulder blade to shoulder blade, enhancing every slope and taut angle of his back. It was stunning, and Sophie longed to go and run her hands over it. Over him. He turned as she approached, and she lost her nerve.

“Hungry?”

Sophie thought about it and decided that in actual fact, she was starving.

“Yes. Yes, I am. Is this where you tell me you’re a crack hot chef?”

Lucien lifted a lazy eyebrow.

“No. This is the point where I offer to serve you sushi off my navel.”

Sophie’s eyes opened wide.
Was he even joking?
She still didn’t have a good enough measure of him to be sure. She breathed a sigh of relief when he retrieved a huge bacon quiche, a bag of salad and a bottle of champagne from the fridge and closed the door. 

“We’re in luck. Fran has been today.”

Fran? Who was Fran?

Lucien heaped food onto two plates without offering an explanation. To be fair, he didn’t owe her one. He was her boss, and her one week only lover, nothing more.

The food was delicious, helped down by champagne that loosened both Sophie’s nerves and her tongue. Was Fran his girlfriend? His lover? His mother? She burned to know.
Jesus, was she his wife?

No. He wasn’t married. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but he was most definitely single.
Unlike her.
Thoughts of Dan on holiday somewhere with his lover encroached on her mind, and she began to push her food listlessly around the plate.

“Stop it,” Lucien said softly.

Her eyes flickered up.

“Ditch the guilt, Sophie.”

Boy, he was good.
He might be unreadable to her, but to him, she seemed to be an open book. 

“It’s not that easy.” She picked up her champagne glass and drank deeply, trying to wash away the melancholy.

Lucien filled up her glass again.

“Your husband doesn’t seem to struggle with it.”

The melancholy twisted into anger. Lucien was right. Dan hadn’t given her a second thought when he’d planned his clandestine holiday.
Christ… what if he wasn’t coming back? Had he left her and just couldn’t find the balls to tell her?

She shut her eyes. What a mess. Why was she here? What did it prove, really? That anything Dan could do, she could do better? Because one thing was for sure. Whatever Dan had done, she was going to do far worse before Sunday rolled around.

“So, Sophie. I’m intrigued.” Lucien said conversationally, breaking her train of thought. “Why the glass dildo?”

Lucien directed Sophie upstairs to his bedroom whilst he grabbed a fresh bucket of ice and a bottle of vodka from the freezer. He pocketed the blindfold and the metal acorn as he passed through the lounge, plunging the glass dildo into the ice bucket as he headed for the stairs.

In a late night bar in Greece, Dan ordered another brandy just to annoy Maria. She objected to him drinking too much in case he couldn’t perform in bed. Nothing like Sophie, who happily matched him drink for drink then loved to slide tipsily into a late night game of strip poker. Or else she used to, back when they were happy.
Where had it all gone so wrong?

He looked up as Maria wound her way back across the bar. Brunette instead of blonde. Gym-firm instead of softly curved.

She smiled when she caught his eye, and then pinched her brows together when he saluted her wit
h his refreshed brandy glass.
Whatever.

Sophie lingered in the doorway of Lucien’s vast bedroom. More floor to ceiling glass, but by now the view was hidden beneath the velvet cloak of the black night sky. A huge, metal-framed bed dominated the central space of the room, covered in snowy white sheets, plump cushions, and throws fashioned from neutral velvets and furs. Den-like. The hairs on the back of Sophie’s neck prickled at the thought of spending the night in it with Lucien.

The rest of the room was almost clinically tidy, the sleek wooden walls and floors disrupted only by a huge sheepskin rug. This was very much Lucien’s lair, and Sophie felt for a moment as a lamb to the slaughter. She moved across and perched on the edge of the bed at the sound of Lucien coming upstairs, and noted with apprehension that there were mirrors on the ceiling over his bed. It seemed curiously old hat, a kind of borderline lazy way for a love god to mark out his territory.

“Refreshments,” he said, placing the ice bucket down. “And entertainment.” He dropped the blindfold onto the bedside table and laid the silver acorn next to it. He flicked a lighter to a candle, then turned to face her. His eyes skimmed down the terry gown still wrapped tightly around her body.

“You’re overdressed.”

Naked beneath the robe, Sophie’s pulse accelerated.

He watched her in silence for a long few seconds, and when she didn’t move to undress, he reached down and flicked the top button of his own jeans open instead. Sophie blinked hard, her eyes following his fingers as he worked the second button open. She cleared her throat as he went for the third. His golden, sculpted navel gleamed in the candle glow. As he released the last button, he pushed his jeans down and stepped free of them, then straightened, buck naked and utterly nonchalant.

“See? No clothes. Easy.”  He spread his hands wide, and Sophie gorged on the visual feast he was offering her.

He was easily the most beautiful man she’d ever seen, in real life, or in magazines or movies. All gleaming hard planes and athletic, lean muscle. Sophie’s eyes strayed lower, beyond his navel. 

Christ.
His cock. She pulled in her breath hard as she stared at the thick, long curve standing rigid against his abdomen. Despite the fact that she’d experienced him so intimately inside her, this was the first chance she’d had to see him fully naked. He took her breath away.

When she eventually dragged her eyes back up to his face, she found that cocky half smile back in place on his lips. He knew the effect he was having on her. He turned away.

God, how her fingers itched to touch those broad, inked shoulders, to trail down the length of his granite spine to his perfectly curved backside. Sophie puffed her fringe out of her eyes. If Lucien had been around in the Renaissance period, sculptors would have gouged out their own eyeballs for a chance to sculpt him.

He turned back around and tipped his head to one side.

“Your turn.”

Sophie caught her bottom lip between her teeth, trapped between nerves and the desire to comply. Desire won. She got slowly to her feet, and Lucien moved around her to take her place on the edge of the bed. He planted his hands on the fur throw behind him, his cock looming large and shameless in front of him.

Sophie licked her dry lips and reached for the belt of the gown.

“Turn around.”

She hadn’t expected instruction, but accepted his request with a tingle of lust in her groin. Her back turned, she released the belt.

“Go slow.”

His low command made her revise her plan to drop the robe, and she shimmied it just one shoulder off instead.

“Good girl.”

Encouraged, she slid the other shoulder down, but kept hold of the robe as it slipped down her spine, holding it as a seductive cover over her bottom. She turned to throw a saucy glance at Lucien over one shoulder and found him slowly stroking the length of his hard cock with one hand.