Sexy as Hell Box Set (96 page)

He laughed. “Do you think I’m going to let you off that easily? Tell me more. Drink some of that wine there and let it out.”

I raised my glass and knocked back a
couple of mouthfuls. He refilled it as I was lowering it to the table, so I drank that, too. A fiery streak warmed my chest, spread to my arms and legs as though on a mission to make me drunk, giving me the courage to loosen those stuck words and let them all come bolting out.

I swallowed, inhaled then exhaled. “It’s like I’m new.” I stared down at the tablecloth, at the square-shaped piece of crust from a bread
roll that must have fallen when we’d broken them while eating soup. “I feel so silly saying this.” I hesitated to continue, but he was listening, I could feel it, really listening, really wanting to hear what I had to say. “I’m still me, but different. Better. More whole. Almost fixed, I think. And I know I said I couldn’t be mended, but I’ll admit you were right—before you say I told you so.”

I looked up and smiled at him to show I was teasing, then quickly averted my gaze to the roll crust again. It hit me then, hard and fast, that fuck, I
could
be fixed. The crust became blurred, and I blinked to clear my vision. I didn’t want to cry here, to have the other diners staring at us, thinking we’d had an argument or whatever the hell people assumed. And crying—it so wasn’t me, was it? I didn’t do crying. Didn’t do soppy either, but lately…

“What have you done to me?” I said, mock horrified, snapping my head up to stare at him as though shocked to my toes. “You’ve turned me into a simpering woman, damn you.” I laughed, picking up a napkin to dab at my eyes. Laid it back down to see mascara streaks across it and likened them to a sign that I could be human,
was
being human.

It warmed my soul.

Oh, God, there I go again.

“I haven’t done anything,” he said.

He smiled so genuinely I’d be picking that sodding napkin up again before long. I swallowed to ease the lump in my throat and wondered whether I had another ocean of tears waiting to fall, what with so many of them having been stored up inside me for years, raging about, getting all frothy and whatnot.

“A massive ocean,” I whispered. “But I won’t drown this time.”

“What was that?” He frowned, cocked his head.

“Oh, nothing. Just talking to my damn self. So,” I said brightly, “what the devil are we having for dessert, because my dinner’s well and truly gone down and I have space for a bit more.”

“Cream.” He took another sip of wine and eyed me over the rim of the glass. “Whipped cream. And melted chocolate. Perhaps some caramel. Or honey. Something that can easily be dribbled. And licked.”

Oh, God.

“Food sex,” I said, trying to get myself under control. Flustered wasn’t the word. “I’d never have taken you for the type.”

He widened his eyes, his forehead creasing from the movement, lovely wiggly, endearing lines. “And there was me thinking you knew all my desires before I did.”

“Bugger it,” I said. “I’m allowed to slip up once in a while, aren’t I? I can’t be perfect at predicating your needs
all
the time.” I sighed theatrically, waving my hand as though swatting a fly. “Give a girl a break, would you?”

“I’ll give you a break if you agree to smacking ZW into my arse tonight.”

It was my turn to widen my eyes. “Good grief! With your sore behind? Really? I smiled, looking forward to his reply—he wouldn’t have said it if he hadn’t wanted it.

“I
f your Master says he wants paddling, then my sub—my pretty, lovely, wonderful, naughty little sub—might just have to obey.”

“She might.” I paused for effect. “But what if she’s feeling less than
subby, hmm?” Paused again. “What if she’s feeling like a Domme? What if she’s feeling so damn horny she wants everything, as much as her Master can give her, all at once?”

“Then I’d say we’d be in for a pretty explosive time, wouldn’t you?”

“Fireworks spring to my mind.”

“Hard cock and nipples spring to mine, if I’m honest.”

I laughed so heartily the candle flame wavered and threatened to go out. “Oh, I like you being honest. Do it again.”

“Imagine it,” he said, then licked his bottom lip.

I wanted to suck his tongue into my mouth and kiss him. To have that tongue between my legs, him circling it around my clit until I bucked into his face and his skin glistened with my juices. To lick them off, tasting myself, closing my eyes to better get the zing of it.

“Imagine what?” I licked
my
bottom lip.

His cheeks coloured, and his pupils reacted. He swallowed—his Adam’s apple bobbed—then twirled the stem of his wine glass around. “Imagine, like we said earlier, me paddling your arse then you paddle mine. Both of us going at it. Getting so high on the pain we can barely stand it. All I can think about is what I’ve just described. My cock’s getting hard. Twitching. I want to sink it inside you, right up to the base, and fuck you ragged.”

The way he was looking at me, and his stuttered breathing, his eyes half closing… I wanted him. Wanted him so badly.

“I don’t want dessert anymore,” I said, standing abruptly and shoving my chair back. I tugged his hand. “Come on, upstairs
, now.”

He rose, smiling hard, yet there was that edge to his expression, the one he always got when he was ready to fuck me senseless, give me such a good seeing to that I thought I wouldn’t be able to walk for a week. I indulged in images of his cock sliding into me, filling me, stretching me—any hole, it didn’t matter, just so long as he was in me. My nipples perked, strained against my bra, and my clit seemed to vibrate. Another seep of fluid escaped from my slit, and as we walked out of the restaurant—breathless, so bloody breathless—and into the lobby, I couldn’t resist getting him going some more.

I pushed the button for the lift. “My cunt’s soaking.”

“Oh, Christ…”

“Yes, utterly soaking. I wonder…” I put one finger to the side of my mouth and glanced across at him. “If I asked you to lick my cunt, would you refuse me now?”

“You know I wouldn’t. Couldn’t.”

The lift arrived, and the doors slid open. No one was inside. I stepped in and pressed my back to the rear wall. Widened my legs, the skirt of my dress stretching taut. Bent down and grasped the hem, lifting it so the material was bunched at my waist. I didn’t care if someone came along and saw me like this. Didn’t care at all. I glanced down at my knickers, then back up at him.

“There’s cream there,” he said, nodding at my crotch.

“Hungry for dessert, are we?”

He nodded again.

I smiled.

The lift door slid shut behind Victor.
He dropped to his knees and snuffled his nose into my crotch. His breaths were deep as though he was drawing in my aroused scent, and the pincer grip he had on my hips fed my desperation for more, more, more.

I lifted my leg over his shoulder and dragged the gusset of my knickers to one side. “
Do it,” I said harshly. “Quickly.”

He didn’t need to be told again.
Instantly, his hot tongue swept into my folds. I could feel his teeth pressing into my flesh, his nose stabbing into my clit. I tipped my head back and speared my fingers into his hair, pulled him closer and ground against his face.

My pussy was aching for him. My clit was distended and swollen. Finally
, he was licking my entrance, fucking me with his tongue. In and out he went, slurping, using his fingers, too, groaning with each new penetration.

The lift was moving. I was aware of distant pings as it went up the floors. Staring at the display panel, I waited for our level to arrive, wondering if I might blast out an orgasm before we got there.

Suddenly my stomach lurched, the lift stopped, and the floor before ours lit the screen.

Shit, someone else had called the elevator.

“Victor,” I gasped, dragging his head from between my legs and dropping my leg from his shoulder.

But h
e was reluctant, his body stiff, his hold on my hips tight.

“Fuck, stop it, now.”

Much as it didn’t bother me to come in front of an audience, I really preferred it if those people were paying for the privilege of watching me. Here? Well, here, at The Baglioni, I was trying to be a little more demure, a little more sophisticated.

“Jesus, Victor, stop it.” I managed to push him away, clamped my legs together and shoved at my dress, sweeping it to my knees.

He looked up at me with an expression of acute disappointment. His stubble was shiny with my juice, his lips red and swollen and his eyes glazed with lust.

Beautiful. Just beautiful.

The doors slid open with a quiet whoosh.

I folded my arms, covering my peaked nipples and stared at the elderly couple who’d interrupted our fun.

Victor twisted, wiped his face on the back of his hand and then stood. “Here it is,” he said. “I found your earring, darling.”

He held out his thumb and forefinger, nothing but air clasped between them.

“Thank you,” I said, pretending to take the imaginary piece of jewellery.

Victor snapped his shirt straight, shoved his hand through his hair and smiled at the couple as the doors shut. “Diamond, very expensive,” he said. “Worth scuffing up my knees for.”

I glanced at the knees of his trousers, as did the elderly couple; they were dusty and creased.

“I am pleased you found it,” the female said with an Italian accident.

The lift stopped and the doors opened again. Victor reached for my hand.

“
Buonanotte
,” he said with an incline of his head before pulling me out.

“
Buonanotte
,” the man said. “
Avere un tempo meraviglioso
.”

I followed without a backward glance. I didn’t have the patience of mind for politeness. Each step created friction on my clit and each second that passed without Victor licking me, adoring me was a wasted one.

We reached our room and I noticed Victor’s hand shaking as he unlocked the door.

“Are you all right
?” I said, cupping his sore arse and thinking how much I’d like to use my new paddle on already smarting skin.

“Yeah.” He blew out a slow, controlled breath and opened the door.

“Have you taken your tablet?” I asked, suddenly worrying that he might keel over on me again.

“Fuck it, no, hang on.” He rushed to the bedside table, pulled out a small box and popped a pill into his mouth, swallowing it in a well-practiced, efficient manner.

“Victor.” I shut the door and put my hands on my hips. “You really have to be better with remembering that.”

He shrugged. “I know. The trouble is, though, you distract me.”

He licked his lips, and I wondered if he was savouring my lingering flavour.

“An enjoyable distraction, of course,” he added.

“Not a good enough excuse.” I stepped closer, puffing up my chest and tipping my chin. The sudden urge to dominate was blasting through me. After submitting so absolutely in the shower, taking his spunk and piss on my chest, I now wanted to rise up, dash to the other end of the spectrum and reclaim my control.

“I’m sorry, Mistress.”

He’d sensed my needs, yet again.

“Will sorry help me if your heart stops?” I’d managed to speak without a crack in my voice, but a tug twisted my insides at the very thought of anything really happening to his heart—his big, kind, generous heart that belonged to me.

“No, Mistress.” He linked his fingers at his groin, dropped his head a little and cast his gaze downwards. “I won’t do it again.”

“To fucking right you won’t.” I
angled his chin upwards, hovered my lips over his. “And I’m going to make sure you don’t.”

He pulled in a breath. “Whatever you wish.”

“Oh, it’s what I wish all right.”

I couldn’t think of anything I wanted to do more than paddle his arse, maybe have a whack or two on mine as well. He’d seemed excited about that idea earlier. But I wanted to run the scene, it was my turn. I was owed it.

I bunched the base of his shirt in my fists, tugged until it came out of his trousers, and then I undid the buttons. He stood still, just his chest rising and falling as I pushed the material from his shoulders and let it fall to the floor.

Unable to resist, I latched my mouth over his right
nipple, sucked, teased and nibbled. It hardened quickly, and I twisted and pulled at the other one with my fingers, hoping the pain would get him gagging for more.

“Ah,” he gasped when I bit a little harder. “Fuck.”

“Get used to pain because that’s just the start for a forgetful sub.”

A rise of colour was blooming on his cheeks. “Yes, Mistress, sorry, Mistress.”

I yanked so hard at his belt he stumbled forwards. “Get naked,” I ordered. “Now.”