Sweet Seduction Shadow
Sweet Seduction Shadow
Book Three in the Sweet Seduction Series
By Nicola Claire
Copyright © 2013, Nicola Claire
All Rights Reserved
ISBN: 978-0-473-25221-2
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places and incidents are products of the writer's imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organisations is entirely coincidental.
All rights are reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author.
Cover Art by Nicola Claire
Image credit: 123RF Stock Photo
Image #
11872049
More books by Nicola Claire:
Kindred Series
Kiss Of The Dragon (Late 2013)
Mixed Blessing Mystery Series
Sweet Seduction Series
Elemental Awakening Series
The Tempting Touch Of Fire (Late 2013)
Kia ora!
Māori
are the indigenous Polynesian people of New Zealand. For some time now, I have been wanting to bring a little of my ancestry into my books. Ben Tamati became the means for me to achieve that. And I couldn't think of a more noble person than Ben to lend a little Māori culture to the
Sweet Seduction Series
. As such, there are a handful of Māori terms used in this story. Not enough to have you all go out and purchase a Māori/English dictionary, but I thought a few definitions here at the start might just make it a little easier - and intriguing - for you get to know Ben.
Kia kaha!
Kia ora! -
Hello!
Kia kaha! -
Be strong! Get stuck in!
Tiki -
carved figure of a face, represents the "First Man"
E hoa -
mate, friend, partner
Te pai kē! -
Fantastic! Excellent! Great!
Moko -
traditional Māori tattoo, usually on the face
Pounamu -
greenstone, jade
Taiaha -
traditional Māori staff/weapon made of hardwood
For: Tony.
You know why.
One More Identity
A large, warm hand ran down my naked spine, sending electricity coursing through my veins directly to the deepest part of me. I may have groaned.
Soft lips followed the path his palm and fingers had laid. Hot breath washing out over evermore sensitive flesh. My skin burst to life and suddenly the world seemed a better place for it. Even the crisp sheet covering my lower legs made me feel alive. I writhed beneath his touch. Beneath the hot, hard feel of his skin against mine.
He kneaded the flesh of my butt cheek, his hand wrapping around my hip, fingers digging into skin as though he was as lost to the moment as I was, teetering on the edge of his control. It was always like this. Dark, so very dark I couldn't see a thing. All that was left for me were the delicious sensations he created and the familiar scent of his cologne, mixed with the smell of him.
I inhaled deeply, letting the fragrance of that aftershave soothe me, settle my nerves and pull me deeper into the moment. My hands tried to reach around to touch him. The need to feel his skin beneath my fingertips was too much to resist. With a growl he grasped first one wrist, pulling it taut above my head, and then adding the other. One large hand securely held them in place and he gave them a gentle, but purposeful shove into the pillow above my head.
Don't move
, the action said.
No touching
.
This was always his game. His rules. His world. Here I could let go of all my fears and responsibilities. Here I was free to enjoy, to feel, to live. There were no consequences, just beautiful, erotic bliss.
I craved these moments with a hunger I never knew existed. And always it was the scent of him that let me know this was real. An expensive cologne. I tried to find it in the pharmacy, but it was hard to pick which one was his from the plethora available. Because his was always mixed in the musk of sweat, of him. They needed to bottle him, not just the cologne he wore.
His free hand stroked down the side of my ribs, making me wriggle beneath the rough, calloused tips of his fingers. I rolled sideways, just slightly, just enough to invite him to touch my breast. He took the bait, unable to resist the temptation. I liked that I could control aspects of these moments. Direct proceedings, even though I was not, in any way, in charge. His hand felt like a branding iron on the soft flesh of my breast, his fingers found my nipple; already tightened and aching for his touch.
He rolled the little peak between his finger and thumb, while he rubbed his erection between the seam of my butt cheeks. He felt hard and big. A shiver ran down my spine at the thought of him inside me, stretching me, filling me, giving me what my body so desperately craved. I cried out when he tweaked my nipple, a direct response to me lifting my rear, trying to entice him to sink deep inside my core.
If his hand had been on my rear, he would have swatted it. But as his fingers were on my nipples, they received the warning.
Behave
. I may have been able to distract him with temptation occasionally, but he never lost sight of his goal. To tease, to torment, to bring me so close I begged for him to finish me off.
I twisted my head, trying to get a line of sight over my shoulder, but even if it wasn't so dark that shadows had ceased to exist, he moved his face to nuzzle the opposite side of my neck. Away from where my gaze had turned. He kissed and nibbled the skin there, licked a line from beneath my hair to the tip of my shoulder. All the while he fondled my breast, rolled and pinched my nipple, rocked himself against my backside. Never close enough to give me the friction my body desired.
I couldn't even pull my thighs together, to soothe the ache that had formed right there. His body lay between my legs, denying me that avenue of escape. He felt heavy behind me, but I was never scared. Always surrounded by that scent which had somehow become a balm, letting me know I was safe and secure, that he'd take care of everything.
For once in my life I didn't have to be the strong one. I didn't have to stay on guard and pretend to be what I was not. Here, under his touch, wrapped up in his scent, I was me. The real me. No decoy, no disguise. I could openly crave what
I
wanted. I could seek my pleasure without having to conform to the parameters of the role I currently played. Here I was
me
.
When tomorrow dawned the world would be a different place, but for now, in my bed, with my lover, I could be free.
I think I craved freedom as much as I craved his touch. I was addicted to both sensations. I was a druggie trying to get my fix.
He lifted his hips and repositioned himself, so his arousal slipped down between my thighs, running over my moistened and swollen centre. He rocked his hips, allowing his hardness to give me a small amount of friction. Just a taste. Just enough to whet my appetite, but no more. I automatically lifted my behind to seek further contact and his hand slipped between the bed and my stomach, then slowly stroked down to the curls between my legs.
Yes!
He was going to give me what I needed. Sooner than usual, but I didn't spare a thought as to why. All my mind could register was the frantic need to find release. His hand cupped my mound, one finger pressing into my centre, while the heat of his palm spread languidly through my core. I rubbed against his hold and he bit my shoulder. Another warning. But I was getting beyond warnings now.
"No," I whispered back and before my lips closed his mouth was on mine. Making me twist my head further on my neck to receive his tongue, to drink his taste down. He was an exotic mix of man and mint. A fresh taste combined with a sinfully dark twist.
For some reason I always closed my eyes when I kissed him. With his face that close, even in the dark I'm sure I could have seen his features. Maybe not the exact colour of his eyes, but perhaps the shape of his nose, the curve of his mouth. But when he kissed me, there was no hope of lifting my eyelids. They became heavy as I became greedy for his tongue, his lips, his teeth.
He sucked in my bottom lip between his teeth and then gently laved it with a sweep of his tongue, all the while his finger pumped slowly in and out of my centre. The heel of his hand rubbed hard against my nub, my hips bucking, his hips rocking back. I could feel him on my lips. I could feel him inside me. I could feel him against that screaming bundle of nerves. And I could feel him down my back, between my thighs, straining to gain access, but denying us both that ending. Not yet. It was too soon. These moments lasted a lifetime. They had to, because for the next few days they'd keep me sane, keep me going. Give me the strength I needed to survive.
I cried out in frustration when his hand slipped out from between my thighs. His nose nuzzled my ear and I could have sworn I heard him whisper, "Not yet." But that could have been me, in my mind. I lived so often there, sometimes the line between reality and fantasy was blurred. Sometimes the fears I felt were all fabricated.
Sometimes they were not.
I quashed that train of thought, it only led to panic and right now he was here, with me. To waste a moment in alarm would be unforgivable. He didn't visit every night, but when he came I had to savour it. Commit every touch, every lick, every bite, every second to memory.
He lifted off my back and with gentle, but determined hands rolled me over. My flesh was so sensitised I whimpered at the cool air, from the open window, as it washed across my naked chest and stomach and thighs. His scent engulfed my senses again. All him. All male and that distinct, but unidentifiable cologne.
He'd released my hands so I immediately ran them down my neck, across my chest. Leaving one to cup a breast and roll a nipple, making the other travel further to reach its goal between my legs. I could hear him breathing above me, still kneeling between my legs. I spread my thighs further, giving him a better view.
In the light of day I couldn't do this, but in the darkness of my bedroom, with my eyes closed and just the smell of him and the sounds of his breathing, I could open up and let myself go.
My fingers found my clit, and I dipped them down to coat the tips with my juices. I was so wet. He made me this way. I moaned as I rolled two fingers around my nub, my hips lifting off the bed at the sudden shock of sensation, a delightful agony of need and desire rolled up from where I touched and sent tendrils of electricity through my nerves. My head lolled to the side, feeling the night air from outside skim my cheeks. I purposely inhaled, seeking his scent.
There
. He was still here. I smiled, I don't know if he saw it, but in the next moment his fingers joined mine.
Two, sliding slowly inside my wet core, starting up a steady rhythm that matched the rhythm I had going at my clit. Oh God, this felt good. The only thing better would be him inside me. But it wasn't a given that tonight would end that way. Sometimes I basked in the fullness of his hard cock inside me, thrusting to a beat I was sure only he could achieve. But sometimes, he gave me one orgasm, like this, with his fingers or his mouth, and then he was gone.
Oh shit, please let tonight be the former. Please. Please.
Please
.
I may have said that aloud, I'm not sure. Right now I was not above begging. His fingers fucked me harder, the heat of his body hovering above my stomach contrasted beautifully with the coolness of the air through the window across my chest. One of his hands wrapped around my free breast and he kneaded and tweaked the nipple, pulled it tightly and pinched until I cried out in surprise.
He wanted me to feel tonight. To be reminded of what he was capable of. How could I forget this? These delicious and decadent sensations that he insisted I experience. Tomorrow, at work, I'll be someone else. But here, laid out before him for his pleasure and mine, I was the real me. The person I never allowed myself to ever be.
His fingers pumped with abandon. His hand at my breast moved with explicit roughness, making my back arch and my gasps come faster and faster. And then his lips melded to mine and I was gone.
Knowing the rules and desperate to not break them, which would only make him pull back and leave, my hands fisted in the sheet at my sides. In an effort not to reach for the man above me who drank down my cries, even as he continued to pursue them between my legs and at my breast. He was hungry for this too. I could tell. As eager as me to make me fall. He kept pushing further and further. Kept edging me closer and closer.
He nibbled and sucked my lips. His tongue darting in and out in a pattern that matched his fingers. He twisted his wrist and curved his fingers at the knuckle, seeking that elusive G-Spot. Then with one firm pinch and twirl at my nipple, he sank deeper still into the kiss and fucked me hard.
I wanted him there, not just his fingers, but right now I couldn't think straight, let alone differentiate between his hand and his cock.
Light started to dance behind my eyelids. I was so close. Shooting streaks of white and blue and red. The edges of each rainbow colour blended together, muting the vibrancy, but not dampening the shock of seeing something other than black. Behind my lids the world became a spectrum of stimulating colours, strobing lights, and flashing brightness.
So close. Just a little further.
He increased his pace,
everywhere
. His thumb replaced my now defunct fingers at my clit and started rubbing. He'd taken over completely. Exactly as I craved. Exactly as I subconsciously designed it to be. He may have been the one in the driver's seat, but I was driving this. It was me who wanted every single thing he did. It was me who chose the how and when and where.
Another shift of his fingers, a slight change in angle of his wrist. Then the colours segued from strobes and streaks to one constant bright white light. One constant colour that grounded me and conversely set me free.
I moaned, writhed beneath his touch, gasped for air.
Now!
Then a car backfired outside the open window, shaking the glass and sending me upright in the bed. I panted for breath, my heart in my throat, my chest burning from the rapid pace it set. I licked my lips, shook my head from side to side, taking in the soft glow of moonlight as it washed across my empty room and bed.
"Shit," I muttered, still breathing too quickly, still turned-on and wet and needy. "Fucking shit," I groaned as I looked around the quite brightly lit room of my recently acquired home. "Shit, shit, fucking, shit," I blurted out in a harsh whisper, as I lay back down on the bed, feeling the coolness of my sweat soaked nightdress cling to my skin.
Shit. I don't know what is worse. Waking up to my fucked up reality or being sexually frustrated because of a dream. I wanted to scream out loud in anger, but that would no doubt wake my flatmate, if she hadn't already heard me groan and whimper and pant, that is.
Flames of heat washed up my cheeks and I rolled over to reach for my glass of water. My hands knocked the packet of pills off the side table and they landed in a soft splat on the carpeted floor. I leaned over the side of the bed and lifted them up to put them back in their rightful place; hidden in my satchel on the floor. But I hesitated, the packet cool and hard edged in my hand.
Aurorix 300mg
, the label read.
Take one tablet twice daily with food
. I stared at the pharmacy printed instructions, my finger running over the edge of the sticker, making it curl up and threaten to come away completely.
