Knight 01 Knight And Play (16 page)

“Open your eyes, Princess.”

Sophie blinked as her restored vision adjusted to the light, and she saw her own image reflected in the ceiling mirrors. Naked. Splayed. Chained. A Viking knelt between her knees.

The glass dildo looked even more erotic in his hands than it had on the film. Clear crystal, with a raised ribbon of glittering Aurora Borealis glass helter-skeltered around the outside… delicious ridges of friction every time he turned it, and a bulbous, cock-like end. Lucien screwed it slowly into her, and the nuances of the rippled glass bounced a million tiny rainbows of colour around the walls of the candlelit room. Still cold, Sophie felt every delicious ridge of the dildo slide in, unyielding and rock solid.

Her eyes devoured the erotic tableau. Lucien, naked and kneeling, the beautiful wolf tattoo alive across his muscular back as he worked between her legs. Soft fur at her back. Crystal rainbows on the walls. Leather cuffs around her wrists.

Sophie revised her opinion on mirrored ceilings. They weren't old hat. They were a classic for a reason.

When Lucien dipped his head to suckle her clitoris, the early warning signs of Sophie’s oncoming orgasm started to tingle through her body like electricity.

Lucien, Lucien, Lucien…

Lucien glanced up Sophie's taut curves and caught her eye a second before his tongue touched her clitoris again. He’d had countless women over the years, but Sophie Black, naked and shackled to his bed, was up there with the most erotic encounters of his life. Watching her bloom made his cock ache.

She was so ready, he could feel her clitoris quivering and swollen.

It was time.

He screwed the glass dildo as deep as it would go inside her and traced letters on her clitoris with the tip of his tongue.

P… she shuddered

R… she arched

I…she moaned

N…she gasped his name

C… “Lucien...”

E… she came

S… and came

S… and she came.

According to the luminous clock on Lucien's bedside table, it was a little after four a.m. Sophie blinked as her eyes adjusted to the shadowed room, half awake and very aware of the weight of Lucien's arm across her body.

She turned her head on the pillow to look at him, and her fingers ached to reach out and stroke the proud slant of his cheekbone.

Sleep had robbed him of his trademark cocky smile and easy confidence, leaving him stripped bare and vulnerable as a child. There was a sweetness to the sweep of his lashes on his cheek, and an innocence to the cupid bow of his top lip. Studying him, Sophie could almost see the carefree, tearaway child he must have been.
Who was he?
How had he gone from child to man, from innocent boy to self-styled leader of a movement for sexual liberation?

His home offered no clues to his past, and the internet had proved equally unforthcoming when it came to revealing the boy behind the man.

He sighed in his sleep, and Sophie turned her body fully into the circle of his arms. He gathered her closer, and she breathed him in. Whoever he was, right now she was just glad to have him in her life.

She slept.

Lucien clicked off his mobile. All of the arrangements were in place, the work of minutes. It was one of the things he appreciated most about his wealth - it waved a magic wand and made anything possible.

He needed his private jet readied for take-off with three hours’ notice? No problem.

He wanted the lodge prepared by lunchtime? Consider it done.

Money talked, for sure. But right now the only conversation he was interested in using it to facilitate was the one where Sophie realised that she held all of the aces, not her husband.

As far as he could see, marriage was all about power. His own father had held all of the cards in his parents’ marriage, his mother perpetually playing a losing hand.

When Sophie had walked into his office last Monday evening, the defensive look in her eyes at the mention of her marriage had stirred deep-seated memories, decades-old echoes of a similarly haunted look in his mother’s eyes.

But then, last night, that look had been nowhere to be seen on Sophie's face, especially not in the seconds before she'd come.
By the end of the weekend the look would be banished forever
.

A grim smile touched the corners of his mouth at the thought of Daniel Black returning home on Sunday. The man was in for one hell of a shock.

Sophie dashed around her suburban semi, throwing clothes and her passport into the overnight bag that lay flung open on the bed. Her home felt like a doll’s house after Lucien's mansion, and just a couple of days of standing empty had lent it a forlorn air that she was anxious to escape from.  Lucien had given her exactly ten minutes, and then he was turning off the engine and coming in to get her. This she did not want. He had no place here, in her home.

She had no idea where they were headed or what to pack, but instinct had her throwing in her prettiest underwear and her favourite dress and heels. Lucien had suggested she also bring a coat, so she zipped her bag and laid her cherry red wool coat on top of it. She was ready.

In her haste to get into the car before Lucien got out of it, she never noticed the flashing light on the answering machine in the hallway.

Sophie had only ever flown in economy class, so climbing aboard a private jet an hour or so later was something of a culture shock. There had been no duty free shopping or check-in queues, just a uniformed driver to take Lucien's Aston away for him as they moved straight from the car to the steps of the pristine black aircraft emblazoned with the Knight Inc. logo. The captain greeted Lucien warmly; wherever the destination was, it seemed to be a journey Lucien made regularly.

Inside the cabin, the aircraft was the last word in aviation luxury.

And what else would she have expected?
Deep leather recliners, gleaming wooden panels and expensive fittings surrounded her, and it came as no surprise that they were the only passengers.

Lucien dispensed with his black leather jacket as soon as the doors were closed.

"Is this your jet?" Sophie asked.

Lucien shrugged. "I fly a lot."

She glanced behind her.

"Are there any cabin crew?"

"Do you want there to be?"

Sophie's brows knitted together.
Did she?
Was she content to be alone in the skies with Lucien?

"I don't think I do," she said eventually.

Lucien nodded, and waved an arm towards the seating area.

"We're going to be in the air for around five hours. Make yourself comfortable."

Five hours?
That was far more than Sophie had anticipated, and worry prickled over her skin. She was flying God knows where with a man she'd only known for a few days.
What if she didn't make it home on time?

Guilt swooped in and landed heavily on her chest. She was thinking like a deceitful lover. Did Dan feel this way every time he met with the woman he'd decided was more worthy of his attention that she was? Did he worry about covering his tracks? She thought about it, and much as she tried to retrospectively apply guilt and remorse to Dan's behaviour, she drew a blank.
What did that tell her?
Either her husband wasn't bothered if she uncovered his infidelity, or else he genuinely believed that she was too stupid to join the dots. Neither option gave her much comfort.

"Don't worry, Cinders. You'll be home by sun-up on Sunday."

Sophie nodded and sank down into the nearest recliner, grateful once again for Lucien's perceptiveness.

She needed to think like a man, to compartmentalise her life. She could do that. She could lock her marital problems away in a sealed file marked with Sunday's date. She visualised herself closing the file and setting the seal, and then storing it away in the recesses of her head. Dan no doubt had none of these problems, but then wasn't he so much more practised in the art of deceit?

"Where are we going?" she asked, as much to fill her head with something new as from genuine curiosity.

"We're flying north." Lucien settled into the seat next to hers.

That really wasn't much help. Geography wasn't Sophie's strongest point.

"North?"

"Stop asking questions and trust me."

Sophie leaned back and closed her eyes. Being with this man was so easy, he was a born leader and she found herself more than content to follow. It was a thrill to be around someone who always knew exactly what to do.

Someone who right now had just tipped her chair back to full recline and was undoing the buttons of her filmy black chiffon blouse.

She kept her eyes closed, even though her body was screamingly awake to his touch. It was barely breakfast time, yet it seemed that Lucien was hungry for something other than bacon and eggs.

"Flying
makes me horny,
" Lucien said as he finished her buttons and pulled her blouse out of her waistband.

Sophie bit her lip but didn't open her eyes.

"Are you sure the pilot can't see us?"

Lucien slid down the side zip of her skirt.

"If he’s watching us instead of the skies, we'll know about it soon enough. There are mountains up ahead."

She lifted her hips a fraction to allow him to slide the skirt off.

Black underwear had been a necessity with her choice of blouse. The delicate, raw-edged lace of the balconette bra and high cut knickers made her feel feminine and voluptuous, and from Lucien's low, appreciative whistle, it seemed that he approved too.

Up to then she'd never had the remotest interest in joining the mile high club, but if she had, then being seduced in a private jet by a Norse love god certainly beat being ravaged in the cramped loo on Easyjet, hands down.

Sophie opened her eyes and looked into Lucien's piercing blue ones. She saw lazy lust, and could almost hear the cogs of his mind whirring as he debated what to do with her first.

So why did he have to make all the decisions, all the time?

Suddenly brave, Sophie flipped her seat back into an upright position. With satisfaction, she noted the flicker of surprise in Lucien's eyes, and then the shift from surprise to anticipation when she stood up and dropped to her knees in front of him.
What next?

Sophie licked her lips. Lucien sat still and watched her, one eyebrow slightly raised. Nerves danced a tango in her belly.

Did she have what it took to be in control of this man at this moment, to make him feel the way he did her?

There was only one way to find out. She reached out a hand to the shirt button at the base of his throat and pushed it open. His eyebrow inched a little higher, while her fingers inched a little lower, opening the next button.

Pop, pop, pop, and suddenly he was bared to his washboard abs. Sophie sighed with satisfaction, struck all over again by how perfectly sculpted he was.

How could someone so gorgeous not be vain?
Because he wasn't. He was cocksure and verging on arrogant, but he didn't use his beauty as a weapon in the way many would be tempted to. It was just there, ready to scorch the eyeballs off anyone whose gaze lingered on him for more than a few seconds. Right now, Sophie was on fire.

She grazed her nails down his hard chest, through the smattering of golden hairs all the way to the barrier of his belt buckle.
It was in her way.
She worked it open in a couple of seconds, and as soon as she released it she could feel his erection straining for release from his jeans. Knowing that she'd excited him excited her too, and she leaned in, wrapping herself around him to claim the kiss that waited for her on his lips. Slow and intensely sexual, the lingering caress of his mouth wiped out any doubts about her ability to take the lead for a while.

With a little regret, she braced her hands on his shoulders and pushed him back against his seat. He took it well. Rolling his shoulders and settling in, he lifted himself for her when she put her hands on the top of his jeans and dragged them down to his feet.

How come he was the one in the compromising position, yet she was the one who felt more exposed?

His cock rose between them, hard, proud and mouth-watering. Sophie closed her eyes for a second and swallowed, then looked into Lucien's eyes and ran her tongue over her top lip.

"Tell me what you want me to do, Lucien," she breathed. "I won't do it unless you tell me."

He reached out and tapped her nose lightly. "Touché, Ms. Black. Now stroke my cock."

A tiny smile flitted across her lips as she reached out and circled him with her fingers. He shifted in response to her hands on him and watched, mesmerised, as she brought her hands up to her lips and dampened her fingers with her own saliva. His cock was solid silk underneath the slick stroke of her hands, his balls warm and heavy as she cupped them. She flicked him one of his almost imperceptible trademark winks. She was enjoying this, the shift in power, using the skills he'd taught her to turn him on. Leaning in, she tongued his nipples then glanced down at her hands around his erection.