Trust Me (14 page)
Creighton turned his gaze back to the table and reached again for the plate, but she once more pushed it out of his grasp. This time he turned to her with a wicked gleam in his dark eyes, but she choose to pretend not to notice. He sat there watching her for a moment before turning away. He tried once more to reach for the plate and instead of pushing it aside she did nothing. He was stunned, expecting to have to fight for the plate and frowned his confusion as he picked up a jelly filled roll. He took a big bite of the sweet pastry and began to chew it. Another bite and a glance her way and still he frowned.
The ball was in her court, as her grandfather was so fond of saying. As he reached for his coffee cup a strange sensation came over her and she slid the hem of her shirt up her thigh and tucked it between her legs, exposing her bare hip. Sandra slid her hand over her outer thighs and lifted the material up around her hips, exposing her bare bottom. Creighton caught her movement out of the corner of his eye and stopped immediately, his coffee cup perched to his open mouth. A moment later he was jumping from his seat, hot coffee soaking into his shirt and spilling onto his lap.
Sandra looked at him and blinked innocently as he wiped at the moisture with the cloth napkin, cursing violently. He looked up at her, anger etching his features, but she chose to ignore it and continued to stare at him innocently. Moments passed as they stared silently at each other over the space of the deck. She found it near impossible to contain her flittering heartbeat, but managed to remain calm. The game they had been playing consumed her mind and actions as she casually reached for the coffee pot and poured more into his cup and then slid it quietly to where he had been sitting. She turned her attention back to the plate in front of her and was surprised to find it was empty.
Creighton moved cautiously toward the table again, removing his soiled shirt as he approached; leaving him bare-chested in just a dark pair of blue jeans. It took all the strength she had not to reach out and touch his muscled torso. Instead, she reached for her orange juice and took a drink just as he slipped her missing panties onto the empty plate in front of her, causing her to cough on the sweet liquid. She fought the urge to giggle, picking up the soft fabric, remembering how he looked last night when he removed them.
The boat came to a slow halt and the motor shut off, the sound of the anchor dropping sloshed in the water behind them. She slid the panties off the plate and onto her lap when the captain stepped out of the glass enclosed bridge, thankful for the long table cloth that hid her naked behind from observers. Creighton stood and walked to the side of the yacht where Captain Prestley Shaw waited patiently for him. They spoke together for several long moments, allowing Sandra a chance to regain her composure. The captain nodded his bald head and walked down the steps to the lower deck as Creighton turned and sauntered back to the table as though nothing had happened.
Several moments later the sound of a motor echoed in the morning stillness causing Sandra to look around in time to see a small boat disappear toward the coastline with the entire ship’s crew. A sudden shock raced through her when she realized they were all alone; there was nobody to hear her screams and nobody to interrupt them. The idea of being completely alone with this man, made the heat flow through her veins and her heart began to skip within her chest.
Creighton said nothing as he returned to his breakfast, a wicked grin lying across his lips. The game was afoot, as her book-heroines would say. She was amazed by her audacity and lack of shame as she sat there, her panties in her lap, the hem of her make-shift dress raised so high that her naked behind rested on the cushion of the seat; she was completely exposed from the waist down to a man she had known only a few days. Still, the idea of teasing him brought a new surge of heat racing through her veins; a strange clenching taking hold of her insides as her lower regions began to tingle.
Sandra reached for the plate of pastries, no longer hungry, but chose to continue her torture on the man. She nearly giggled, playing with him was erotic and fun and she liked how it made her feel wicked and wanton. She slowly began to imitate the many actions she’d seen girls perform over the years to drive their boyfriends crazy. She slid her finger across the top of one pastry, removing the cream and slowly slipped her finger into her mouth, closing her eyes and sucking her finger clean. She knew he was watching her, she could feel his eyes on her and she fought the giggle while she slowly repeated the action again.
A moment later and a thought snuck into her mind. She sat the pastry on her plate and stood slowly, picking up her panties and walking toward the railing of the ship. She took a quick glance around their surroundings to make certain there were no visitors on the shore, or houses nearby to witness her wicked actions and then turned around and looked at the dark eyes watching her intently.
With an innocent smile, she stretched her arm out across the side of the ship, her panties dangling from her fingers and simply let go, allowing them to drop into the water. Creighton’s eyes widened and his mouth dropped open, but he continued to watch her silently, unable or unwilling to speak. Her smile never left her lips as she removed the shirt he had given her to wear and did the same thing; nearly laughing as the fabric disappeared from her fingers.
Sandra walked slowly back toward the table, completely naked; making certain to keep a good distance between them. She picked up the pastry that she had been playing with and slowly slid the tip of her tongue over the frosting flower on top. She licked it and moaning softly, curling the end of her tongue around the frosting, slipping it slowly into her mouth. She watched the stunned look on his face quickly turn dark, seductive. He leaned back on the legs of the chair and looked at her intently, clearing his throat.
“Like playing games, do you?” he whispered with a wicked grin. She looked at him and batted her long eyelashes innocently. She didn’t know what the hell she was doing, but she liked what it was doing to him and she could actually feel herself getting wet in that secret place she knew he liked so well.
“On the bed is a box,” he whispered slowly, watching her expression when he stood, taking the pastry from her hand and squeezed it gently. He ran a finger along the side where the cream filling oozed out, as he spoke to her. “Take a shower and put on what’s inside the box. I’ve only got enough patience for fifteen minutes. I want you ready when I join you.” He lifted his finger to her mouth and slowly spread the cream across her lips, allowing her to lick it off. She wanted to ask questions, but her throat felt suddenly dry. He repeated his actions with the pastry again, but this time he slid the cream into her mouth and smiled as she sucked his finger clean.
“Go now,” he ordered in a husky tone, removing his finger slowly from her mouth. “You’re wasting time.”
“And if I choose to take a bath instead of a shower?” she asked, his wet finger slowly running down her neck to her exposed cleavage; shocked by her own forwardness. She didn’t even know if he had a tub on this boat. Creighton’s smile reassured her that he wasn’t immune to it and chuckled softly, cupping her breast in his hand, his fingers deftly kneading and pinching her nipple until she moaned.
“Then one of us will be in a lot of trouble,” he whispered. “I’m not opposed to baths, I just have special plans for you today and I’m quickly losing patience. Now go. The crew will be back at five and I don’t want to waste a single moment we have alone.” She didn’t know what to say, so chose to say nothing, but used her tongue instead to lick her lips in a very seductive action. She slowly turned out of his grasp and walked away…totally naked…swaying her hips as she left.
The bedroom door opened and Sandra stopped short at the sight. The room had been organized and put back together; clean white sheets replace the bloody ones from the night before, twelve varied sizes of pillows set fluffed against the headboard and the blanket and bedspread were neatly folded back, covering the lower half of the mattress. Her clothes had been folded and placed on the top of the dresser and on the corner of the bed, just as Creighton had said, was a small thin white box with a dark blue ribbon. She opened it to find a layer of emerald green tissue paper; moving it aside, she found a small black camisole top and tiny matching panties. They were very soft, satin or silk she thought, trimmed in delicate black lace. They looked paper thin and she held them up to the light from the window, gasping when she saw how see-through they really were. It would be like wearing nothing at all and she smiled; that was obviously his reasoning in wanting her to wear them; perverted modesty, she thought and giggled.
She took the paper-thin clothing and hurried into the bathroom. The idea of wearing this in front of the only man in the world who knew her intimately was extremely intriguing and her heart began to race again.
Sandra turned on the faucets of the shower and quickly pinned her hair on the top of her head with a barrette she found in her purse. She stepped beneath the stream of water and sighed; it felt wonderful and warm as it washed across her body. On the shelf inside the tiled enclosure were bottles of liquid soap, shampoo and conditioner. Knowing the fifteen minutes he gave her wouldn’t be long enough to dry her hair, she bypassed those items and poured a small amount of soap on a loofah. The scent was far too luxurious and feminine for a man like Creighton Ashford to use personally. She continued to wash her long legs and bottom, paying particular attention to those areas of special interest, before rinsing and shutting off the water.
She stepped out of the shower and removed the barrette from her long reddish-brown hair before quickly slipping the soft, frail outfit across her slender frame. Sandra turned to look in the full-length mirror on the back of the bathroom door, blushing was she looked at the woman staring back at her. The black camisole hung across her damp breasts, resting just above her navel; the outline of her nipples poked delicately against the fabric. The coloring of her flesh shone through the material like a ghostly silhouette. The panties were very small, very petite and covered only the hair of her pubic area, which again was visible through the thin covering.
Cathy wore panties like these, Sandra thought, she called them thongs and until now she would never have considered wearing them herself. The truth was they were quite comfortable and very sexy. She turned around in front of the mirror and gasped at the sight of her exposed bottom, with just a tiny black string of delicate lace showing above the top of the butt crack and around her waist. Sexy was definitely the idea with these things.
“Sandra?” Creighton called from the other room. She was ready for him, ready for whatever special games he had in mind. She smiled at the thought and realized that right now, she still had the upper hand. She may be new at this whole seduction thing, but she had read enough books and seen enough romantic comedies to know how to tease a man. Quickly she jumped up on the edge of the vanity and crossed her legs, feeling the cool granite beneath her bare bottom cheeks.
A soft knock sounded at the door and she drew a deep breath. Here we go; she thought as a twinge of excitement burned a path to all of her secret places. The door pushed open and on the other side stood a bare-chested, bare-footed Creighton, still in his jeans he wore on deck. His dark hair was slightly windblown and his sapphire eyes shinned brightly as he inspected her on the granite perch.
He leaned against the frame of the door folding his arms in front of his bare chest; his eyes traveled from her face, down to her nearly nude chest, to her crossed legs. As though silently beckoned to do so, she uncross her knees and allowed her legs to dangle off the edge of the vanity, spreading them just enough to give a glimpse of what was hidden – barely - from sight. He smiled appreciatively and took a step toward her.
“Still like games, do you?” he asked in a husky tone. He closed the door behind him as he slowly approached her. Sandra’s pulse quickened when their eyes locked, watching the dark emotion cross his sapphire eyes. He tenderly reached for her legs, traveling a single finger up the front from her calves to her knees, leaning into her, pressing his groin against her right calf and gently thrusting his hips into her leg.
“Let’s play,” he whispered and took her by the waist, lifting her off the counter to stand in front of him. He leaned down kissing her lips briefly before turning her to face the full-length mirror. He stood very close behind her, his growing erection pressing into her buttocks through the soft fabric of his jeans. He bent down kissing her neck, biting and licking the soft skin. She watched him through the mirror as his tongue traveled up to her earlobe; his teeth gently bit the tender flesh, tugging on it until she gasped. The sight was hypnotic; she had felt his erotic touch last night, but watching him do this was…sensual, exciting and stimulating.
“Foreplay is very important in a good sexual relationship,” he breathed against her ear. “You were very good at teasing me on deck, now I want you to do it again. Show me how you play with yourself.” She blushed, drawing a deep breath. “Play for me,” he urged and she slowly shook her head.
“I don’t know how,” she admitted and watched the amusement creep its way into his dark eyes. “I’ve never done anything like that before.” He took her hands and placed them against her breasts.
“It’s easy,” he told her. “Close your eyes and pretend I’m touching you; just relax, let go and have fun like you did on deck.” He pushed her hands gently against the soft fabric of her camisole, rubbing them across her breasts. She could feel the pebble hard nipples press against her palms.
