Chapter Seventeen
Rebecca stared at the man before her for a long moment, her heart pounding in her ears. What she’d said was true. This was a terrible idea. A mistake. No matter what boundaries she was attempting to erect.
This would not be the resolution of the frustration-filled lust with a near stranger that she had experienced all those months ago. He was not a stranger.
No matter how much she fought it, she couldn’t find a way to loathe him. Not completely, at least.
Instead, he was a fascinating set of contradictions her mind could not cease attempting to sort. Yes, he was selfish and self-centered and spent far too much time chasing shiny objects and polishing his own surfaces.
But actions were more significant than words, and his actions during her time in his home had shown that he was loyal, intelligent, and thoughtful. And a father who loved his children. Making him… enticing somehow.
Not to mention that her body still craved him with all that it was, no matter how humiliating that sort of lack of control was.
She wanted him and this so much that nothing else—not even the risk to her reputation if this was ever discovered, nor any unfortunate emotion she might feel when it ended—was relevant. Or at least not very much.
Except he wasn’t doing anything. He was just standing there.
Gloriously nude, yes, all long, lean sinewy muscles, dusted with golden-brown hair, just a touch darker than his smooth skin, but still standing.
Undoubtedly interested, as his rather well-formed—rivaling her favorite condom mold—penis stood at full attention.
She wet her lips at the sight, too mesmerized to even contemplate how she appeared to him.
“You cheated me, Miss Adler.” His words, and more, the firm tone startled her.
His amber eyes seemed to glow through the darkness as he pinned her with her his gaze.
“Or perhaps I should call you something else now that we’re proceeding with this once again.
” He folded his arms across his chest. “You’ve not bestowed the privilege of your given name.
” His lip curled again. “Perhaps that could be a later negotiation. However, for now…” He wet his lips. “You’ve cheated me, Little Red.”
Rebecca had never been more outraged in her life. Well, her mind hadn’t been. A great deal of other parts begged to differ, including her rather traitorous nipples, which were now achingly hard.
“I beg your pardon.” She squared her shoulders, instantly ready for a fight. “I’m not ‘little’ by any stretch of the imagination.”
He raised a brow. “You’re certainly not big.” He grinned at her. “At least not compared to me.”
Somehow her desire ratcheted up to a level she’d not known existed.
“A fair point,” she conceded, her voice an unfamiliar, husky whisper. “What am I, then?”
Cocking his head, he contemplated her. Reaching out, he stroked her cheek. “You’re just right,” he told her.
A lump nearly choked off her air. Why, when she was merely attempting to initiate lust, did he have to say something like that? To her, of all people?
However, before her reaction could ruin matters, he took a step back, his expression now stern.
“Except for the fact that you’re already undressed.” Rebecca almost laughed, but he wasn’t smiling. No, instead, he had his arms folded across his chest. And rightly, he should look ridiculous. But somehow he didn’t. Somehow he made her shiver as hot liquid filled her core.
“It was just a nightdress. It would’ve taken you a moment to remove,” she reminded him.
“And that is the issue,” he said, not moving, though the corners of his lips tipped. “Next time you’re going to have to start with more.”
“You were wearing even less,” she retorted.
“Touché,” he said with that sly grin that made her near melt.
“Though, while you might not have wanted to strip me yourself, you didn’t permit me the chance to state my preferences.
Next time I expect a little more courtesy.
I’m not a wooden mold after all. I’m a person who knows how to please you better than any object, no matter how well-shaped. Am I not correct?”
“I—” She searched for a proper response as he prowled closer to her.
“Suppose you’re able to engage in acts that—” she tried, but he reached down and took her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it.
All arguments suddenly vanished from her brain.
“Yes, oh, yes,” she squealed, grinding against the bed from his ministrations.
“Was that last part an answer or an ovation?” he asked, pausing obnoxiously to wait for a response.
“Does that really warrant a response?” She reached for his wrist to tug him back down, but he was too nimble, capturing hers instead.
Before she could even react, he took her other wrist. Holding them together in a single hand, he gently pressed them down against the pillow over her head.
He continued to gaze at her, his expression somehow even sterner, unsettling her.
“What?” she whispered, stumbling a touch over the single syllable.
“Yes, it most certainly does warrant one. Especially considering I’m being so nice to you.” He touched a finger to his lips. “Perhaps I shouldn’t be so nice.”
She struggled against his palm, but he held her wrists firm, not hard enough that she couldn’t break his hold if she truly desired, but for some perverse reason she didn’t want to.
“You’re a momzer,” she said, but it didn’t sound convincing at all to her ears.
“Only figuratively. But most certainly,” he said with a broad grin, stretching out his lanky body beside her and running his fingers down her cheek, the small movement making her shudder with desire once more.
“So, I’ll give you two options: You can, admit that I’m superior to all of your molds and whatever else you’ve used in the past, and I’ll be nice once more—”
“Or you’re going to stop?” she whispered, her breath catching with a mixture of horror and curiosity.
Releasing her wrists, he wrapped one of her waves around his fingers and gently tugged, leaning down to stare into her eyes.
“Certainly not. That would be punishing me as well. I shall only stop if you tell me to.” His eyes were serious as he held her gaze.
“I mean that, you tell me, and this is all over. Or if there’s anything you dislike…
” He cocked his head, as if he was waiting for an answer.
“All right,” she said with a resolute nod, then frowning as a thought occurred to her. “But back to what you were saying, if I don’t answer?” she asked. “Or if my answer isn’t to your liking?”
His gaze heated as it lingered over her entire body.
“First, you won’t give the incorrect answer because you have an inability to be wrong,” he said.
She opened her mouth to protest, but he wasn’t finished.
“If you refuse, I shall not only join you at breakfast tomorrow, but I’ll pick all the topics of conversation.
I’m thinking which titled gentile of my acquaintance has the best taste in spirits,” he said, his lip twitching in amusement.
“How about that?” He reached over and swirled a finger lazily around her nipple.
“But—I know—I’ve never…” She shook her head. “That would be a monologue,” she managed, as his mouth came down on her breast, retracing the path of his finger. And when he used his teeth, she nearly screamed, heat pooling in her body already, her hips grinding against nothing.
He had the nerve to stop, rising so he could stare down at her, stroking his chin.
“It would, wouldn’t it? A rather boring one at that,” he added, pressing his lips together as if he was resisting a smile, especially as it took her a moment to remember what exactly he was talking about. “Such a small price to pay to avoid it…”
“I—” Her mind was surprisingly blank. “What am I supposed to say again?”
At that, he laughed. “Acknowledgment of my superior skill,” he said.
“Which I seem to be demonstrating rather well.” Before she could think, he’d split her legs apart with his knee, and without preamble, thrust two fingers into her already wet channel, hooking a touch.
“Have a response for me?” he asked, withdrawing his fingers again and again, then swiping them in a circle around what she’d learned from one of her more interesting texts to be her clitoris.
“I—you—” she gasped, working to focus on the words as the sensations began to carry her completely out of herself.
“Words, Red. You owe me words,” he demanded without stopping, pulling her desire higher and higher. “Tell me that my skill and knowledge here are superior, and you trust both. That I know how to make you feel good.”
“I do,” she cried between strokes. “And you do. You make me feel so, so very good.” She nearly sobbed as he pressed down on her clitoris once more.
“I thought so,” he said rather smugly, but he did not pause for even a moment.
“Yes,” she gasped. “Please. Please.” She barely understood what she was even asking for, just that she needed, wanted more. Of him and only him. Damn the price.
“I know what you need,” he said softly, moving over her body and tracing slow, languid kisses downward.
He spread her labia with his tongue and swirled exactly where his fingers had been only minutes prior, stroking in and out moving up to her clitoris, circling as the fingers returned, reviving the delicious tension while she spun higher and higher from his ministration.
She squeezed the bedsheets as he pulled her legs over his shoulders, drawing her closer to him, only increasing in speed and intensity.
Her need was so exquisite and his focus so keen that she’d never felt so desired or so full.
It was better than anything she’d experienced during their first joining.