Consume Me (A Burning Desire Novel) (25 page)

Hopefully good, I didn’t think I could
handle anything bad right then.

Why wouldn't she be able to spend
Christmas with me? She was always nagging when I altered with Jenna, and when I
was going to spend it with her, and she had a mysterious reason not to.

Something was wrong, something was very
wrong.

"Good morning Miss Dane."

I jumped at the intrusion on my thoughts
and turned to see a young blond, she couldn't have been over twenty five. The
apron around her waist told me she was Alison. She could’ve been a model,
straight features, blue almond eyes, and perfect teeth. Ryan would leap if he
saw her.

"Hi, you must be Alison" I
extended my hand and she shook my hand with a genuine kind smile.

“Calvin told me so many things about you;
I was eager to meet you.”

Her smile broadened.

“Oh, he’s very smitten with you. It was a
first.”

She leaned and spoke discreetly.

“I couldn’t help a glint of jealousy
though. He’s usually so cold and neutral.”

I beamed at her.

“Oh I could tell. Trust me, no need to be jealous;
I’m the one who should be. He’s completely under your spell.”

Her eyes sparkled; she was definitely
under his spell too.

“Thank you.”

I acquiesced.

"I made breakfast; Landon is waiting
for you in the garden. I made pancakes, eggs and bacon, also coffee and tea,
since I didn't know what you would like to have."

Oh that was nice...

"You shouldn't have to, I'm easy,
coffee, and some pancakes sound great."

"I'll keep that in mind, and please
if you want anything, you don't hesitate Miss Dane.”

"Thank you, I will, but please call
me Clea."

I insisted. She was no more than two years
older than I was.

"Okay Clea."

I joined Landon on the porch. The garden
was much more beautiful under the sunlight, with a clear view of the lake. I
stopped at the fountain. It was gorgeous it felt alive.

The marble was full of life the figure of
a woman draped in Lilies. It had subtle features, smooth lining. Every detail
taken care of, the water flowing skimming the statue's every inch, as if she
was marveling at the feeling.

Landon's arms came around me, his cheek
against mine; he pressed a soft kiss on the corner of my mouth. I loved the
feeling, and it got me thinking about our earlier conversation.

That was what he wanted; he wanted soft
and tender, nothing like earlier, that intense sex full of mixed sensations. I
loved it, and as much as I loved this, it was something I wanted to do again,
and I had to figure out a way.

"I thought you were hungry."

I was, but the fountain and that moment
were too damn good.

"I was just admiring your garden,
especially this piece of art. The person who made it has an exceptional eye for
details, it feels alive."

"I knew you would love it, but you
haven't seen everything just yet."

I turned in his embrace to face him.

"What else could you possibly show
me? I'm already blown away."

I grinned.

"Mr. Davis, you sure know how to show
a girl some good time!"

He returned a wide grin.

"For your eyes only baby, now let's
eat then we'll see if we can improve that good time you were talking about to
something better."

"Did I say well? I definitely meant
exceptional! But let's see if you can trump that"

"Challenge accepted!"

We sat
under the sun for breakfast. Everything looked tasty. I was completely starved
from last night and the morning's activities. So was Landon, we ate our plates
clean. I couldn't wrap my head around how young Alison was to be a housekeeper.

Landon
insisted that she was much more than that, as did Calvin back in New York. I
couldn’t understand the term ‘household manager’. He explained that she took
care of all his properties, and that she supervised housekeepers. She only
cooked for him, because she wanted to, and because she knew all of Mrs. Davis’
recipes.

Landon also told me that her mother used
to work for his family but Alison was actually attending culinary school, and
she asked to work for him in order to pay for her studies.

"Do you want some coffee with your
sugar?”

Landon wrinkled his nose, expressing his
disapproval.

I had a habit of consuming lots of sugar
once a week for an energy boost, but I usually drank my coffee sugar-free.

"I need the boost."

I said peevishly.

"That isn't good for you, nor is the
caffeine for all that matter.”

 I noticed he drank tea.

"You don't drink coffee?"

"No I'm not in the habit of damaging
my brain cells or add to my stress."

"Well, excuse my humanity Mr. Davis;
my caffeine dose is important for me. It's my weak spot."

I grinned at his condescendence.

"Finish your coffee.”

He said wryly.

I pushed my tongue out.

“I am in the mood for taking up that
challenge Miss Dane."

He stood up and motioned for me to follow
him.

We got
to the third floor; he opened a door at the end of the staircase, his eyes fixated
on my reaction. I grew curious; his sheepish smile didn't do anything to calm
my anxiety.

He stopped then gestured for me to walk
past him into the space.

I walked inside, and blanked on what I
saw.

Wow!

"Welcome to my safe-haven baby."

I blinked at him; I thought I was probably
dreaming, because what I’d seen could only exist in my dreams, and nowhere
else.

An open-space much like the ground floor
of the house, except, there was nothing separating it, no walls to speak of; an
impressive art collection. Impressive didn’t really cut it, there were many
paintings scattered around against the walls. But the most captivating ones
were hanging, in a crescendo, in a variation of colors, the intensity and tone
of the paintings got intense from one canvas to the other. I was floating all
over the room.

It was simply not possible!

"How can you possibly possess
these?"

I was astounded and scared that he might
own some of those illegally, surely he must’ve been pursued by people, museums,
or FBI agents.

"Don't freak out baby, it's all part
of my private collection, for example this Monet was found by my great
grandfather in Bulgaria, and has been in my family since world war I."

But it was; crazy he walked to an unmistakable
Botticelli, the painting should’ve been in the Uffizi gallery, but instead it
was in the middle of a townhouse in Chicago.

"This one was a gift from a client, a
very wealthy one that is."

Must’ve been a Mafioso; but even the mafia
wouldn’t let go of that kind of treasure.

I saw lots of his work in Italy and in
Paris, in their rightful place, for the world to see.

"You shouldn't have these in here, I
understand powerful men acquire arts to show off their money, but all these
belong in a museum, this is selfish Landon. And please tell me that isn't a
Rembrandt because I might faint or report you to the IRS."

I gestured to a painting behind him.

"You really know how you wound me
Miss Dane."

I could tell he was, but I didn’t budge. I
knew people who would love the chance to lose themselves in some of the
history, and the stories behind those paintings. Jenna would’ve gone mad if
she’d seen any of these paintings.

We’d traveled a lot for art; it was
something we both got from dad. He did have some expensive ones acquired around
the world, some were real, but others were replicas, perfect ones, and I never
saw the harm in it.  I would visit a museum, admire Madonna and a Child
for hours, go home, and find the same sight enjoyable.

Well, not as much, but it was better than
nothing.

"Would it help if you knew that these
are the only remaining paintings? That they were part of a much, much bigger
collection, and that I donated most of them?"

I could hear the hurt in his voice, and it
did help.

"I only saved the ones close to my
heart and my family, all the others are works of contemporary painters, some
even by me, and others by my mother."

Oh...

"You ... You paint?"

"Yes I do, and let me tell you
something Miss Dane."

His tone was very dry.

"I'm not some self-centered,
narcissistic asshole who takes some ego boost by acquiring some art to expose
it around my house. What you saw in the penthouse, it was a little collection,
all the paintings were acquired legally. But these..."

Landon gestured at the paintings and I
could decipher some anger.

"These are rightfully mine, I worked
hard to buy some of them and chased people around the world. The rest is mine
and my mother’s.”

He let out a condescending snort.

“I brought you here thinking you'd
appreciate it, you're the only one other than my family who laid eyes on it,
and they are in my tax return. So go ahead call the IRS!"

He whirled and strode out of the room.

I stood there, shocked by what’d happened.

"How stupid can you be? Really?"

I scolded myself silently.

He brought me to show me something that he
thought I would appreciate, and I ruined it. I criticized him. It was clear
that he was passionate about art, I could see it in his eyes last night, which
was one of the reasons I bid on the Dubois sculpture in the first place.

I thought it better to let him cool off
before I went to see him. I walked around the vast room; the collection was
displayed in a graceful manner. Each wall had a story; I was in utter awe at
what I was witnessing. I could live in there forever!

One of the walls held shelves full of art
material, everything you would need. A sound system and a seemingly endless
shelve of vintage vinyl.

There was also a collection of guitars,
mostly acoustic.

He played music too.

I couldn’t wait to hear him play, if he
did.

I decided to look at some of the other
paintings, most of them were landscapes, one held a signature of with Landon's
initials; it was a replica of Water Lilies from Monet. There was no doubt that
he had an exceptional artistic eye.

Another one was a painting of two little
boys standing in front of a lake, the scenery looked familiar. It was the
garden downstairs, the fountain, the flower bed around it. It must’ve been one
Mrs. Davis' and those two boys must be Landon and Simon, the painting
transpired light and love.

I set
it down and continued looking around, I was struck by a portrayal of my dark
and angry lover, and he looked gorgeous. Whoever painted it; was full of
admiration, they’d put so much soul in the piece that the sight was
transcending; it made my heart beat faster.

Some paintings were covered, behind
nothing other than a Kuhn-Bösendorfer piano.

It was a freaking’ museum…

I walked past the expensive piece of
carved woods and gems and took off the sheet. I swallowed nervously.

They were nudes, women. But they were
disturbing, especially the scenery.

Dark walls, crosses, pinned figures on
crosses, suspended ropes, and torture tables. It was too dark, something out of
a movie or a Salem witch tale.

They all held Landon's initials; those
must have been drawn while he was in a very dark state of mind.
However, his imagination had apparently no
limit.

I went through all of them; some, where
lighter, softer, others were too dark.

One in particular, affected me in the most
bizarre fashion. I was aroused by its sight. The woman had her eyes blindfolded
and some weird looking devices around her swollen red nipples, her hands over
her head bound to the end of a poster bed. She was blushing and the way she stood,
her knees were weakened, she was aroused by her state.

I sat on the piano bench, a strange
feeling hit my groin. I was utterly aroused by the painting; I felt the urge to
touch my hard nipples to calm the ache.

I pinched them, but not hard enough to provide
some relief. I needed Landon, and I needed him right then.

I covered the paintings; clearly, I wasn't
supposed to see them. At least I knew that his temper could get disturbingly
obscure. Some paintings are a mirror of the soul; the ones I thought were his
mother’s showed love, care, and attention to details. They were mild and warm;
she clearly loved her son. Landon cherished his mother in his paintings. He
loved landscapes; but those specific ones had to stay personal.

I strode down the stairs looking for him.
Alison was on the second floor talking on the phone. I got into the bedroom but
he wasn't there. I was starting to go insane. I really needed him.

But I need him like that morning; not like
last night.

Then I got an idea, and hoped it would work.

"Alison, can you please tell Landon
that I need him to come to the third floor, it's important please."

"Yes, of course, is everything
okay?"

"No, just tell him to come upstairs,
alone, please!"

She ran down in the blink of an eye, and I
strode back upstairs and closed the door. I quickly shrugged off my tee and
pants. Then, I unhooked my bra and took off my panties.

I positioned myself naked against the
wall, and waited for him.

As soon as I’d heard his unmistakable walk
up the stairs, I started touching myself. My breasts were heavy from that
painting, and I was wet with anticipation.

I jumped when the door flew open.

"Clea? What is it? Alison
said..."

Landon fell silent once his eyes came on
me.

I caressed my neck down my breasts, and
pulled at my nipples, hard.

I moaned and arched my back against the
wall, the coolness against my skin sent shivers through my boiling skin.

Slowly I slid one hand to the peak of my
thighs, and stroked myself. I winced silently. I was sore, yet I was wet. I
slid a finger inside feeling myself inside for the first time.

Landon froze; the sight of him was a pure
eye-gasm. His hair was a glorious mess, a linen shirt hugging his shoulders and
powerful arms over linen pants. He looked young, so young, and so delicious.

"Taste yourself baby."

I blinked repeatedly, in shock. He turned
and locked the door then walked slowly towards me. I was already feeling the
pressure building up and I couldn't stop touching myself.

"You heard me Clea.”

He was so close; he could just have done
it himself.

"I want you to taste how sweet you
are."

He was intoxicating; I was addicted to his
scent, to his voice, his hot gaze. Slowly I pulled my finger out and hesitantly
brought it to my mouth.

"That's right, go ahead taste
yourself for me; I want you to suck on that finger."

Oh my God, it was perplexing, yet so
erotic.

I slowly found myself sucking leisurely on
my finger. It didn't taste of anything really, maybe a little sweet, but mostly
sour, but I sucked at it as if my life depended on it.

His eyes were piercing dark, pure lust
transpired from them.

"You taste better."

I said all self-consciousness out of my
system.

"That is so hot baby, you blow my
mind away."

I had an idea on what I wanted to blow
other than his mind, but I wouldn’t last that long, I needed him forcefully
inside of me.

I gathered my courage then looked at him
sheepishly.

"I know you said you won't do it
anymore, but I want you to fuck me like this morning Landon, just one last time
like this morning then you can return to being your natural sensual, tender
self."

I could hear the supplication in my voice,
I had to have it that way again and I was ready for anything.

I could see the disapproving answer
coming, but I wouldn’t have it, I would’ve begged for it at that point.

"Please, Landon, I want you to fuck
me."

There I said it, I said exactly what I
wanted, just as he wanted me to.

The disbelief on his smooth feature was a
sight to remember.

In a beat, something changed in his expression,
it got darker. Not anger, but something dominant and powerful, a little scary
but mostly exciting.

My heart constricted, and something in the
deepest part of me clenched. I was so weak and turned on at the same time.

"Come here." He ordered.

I took his extended hand and he walked me
to one of the big windows.

"Turn around!"

I turned my back to him, and he took my
hands and laid them on the security bars.

"I want you to use all your force to
hold on onto these."

I nodded, unable to speak beyond the scoop
in my throat.  

He slowly pulled at my hair tie, freeing
curly strands over my shoulders. He kissed my tattoo.

“My sweet demanding angel.”

His hands traveled through my body so
slowly, so possessively and bit the side of my neck really hard.

"Ooh."

It wasn't painful or unpleasant, but
surprising.

"Hush baby, spread your legs."

His voice was commanding, and I did as he
asked.

He pressed his chest against my naked
back, the feel of soft linen, and his hardness between the cheeks of my butt.
He slid two fingers inside me, I grasped the bars maintaining weak legs.

"You want me to fuck you Miss
Davis?"

I was lifted up by his hot breath, the
scent of musky body wash and cinnamon made my blood sing along with the touch
of his fingers doing delicious things to me.

"Yes."

“Ask for it.”

He prompted his voice raspy and deep.

“Fuck me Landon.”

“Beg for it.” He added.

Huh?

I fell silent; confusion crept all over
me.

“You heard me Clea. I want you to beg for
it.”

Something had stirred in his tone. I didn’t
know who he was, but I felt the urge to comply with his curious demand and
domineering voice.

“Please Landon.”

I was begging for it.

It
wasn't long before I heard the sound of a zipper. He filled me in a beat. He
put his palms over mine on the bars and began thrusting in and out. He was so
thick, so hard, and deep inside me. His thrusts were relentless and rigorous.
His breath controlled, and bare, compared to my heaving.

 I was brought so close to my climax,
my knees couldn't hold it any longer. I moaned and screamed calling out his
name, until I climaxed powerfully around him all my muscles clenching and my
heart thumping.

He wasn't finished; he slowed the rhythm,
still hard inside me.  I couldn't take anymore, but I wasn't going to let
him stop even though I won't be able to climax again. He continued with slow
thrusts, stilling at my entrance not completely outside, then thrust leisurely.
As soon as my panting calmed, he lifted up his rhythm, speeding oh-so-slowly,
circling his hips, making my nerves again.

No? How could I?

He grasped my nipples between his thumbs
and the middle joints on the side his forefingers then pulled them, hard.

Yes!

It was so arousing. Before long I was
pressing into his palms asking for more, he pulled and twisted them, as if it
was rubber. I moaned loudly holding on the bars as if my sanity depended on it.

Soon I was building up, but I needed more;
I needed to kiss him, I let off one hand and brought it over his head pulling
him in a hungry kiss.

Landon responded in kind, groaning inside
my mouth, I was close and I could feel he was too, his heart was thumping, I
could feel it in his mouth, and he slammed inside me again, in a relentless
rhythm until we came together, his hands squeezed the life out of me.

I muffled his name in his mouth; he sucked
and bit my bottom lip, emptying his hot semen inside me. We came apart and fell
to the floor together, panting and breathless…

We lay there for what seemed like a long
time. I thanked the heavens for the plush carpeted floors. I had no words to
describe what had just taken place. All I knew was that I was officially beyond
sore and my nipples hypersensitive; even the softness of Landon's linen shirt
hurt.

I was so relaxed, despite loose limbs; I
was in a state of pure euphoria, grinning against my incredible lover's chest
like a five year old. I was a little embarrassed replaying the whole scene in
my mind. I had no idea I could be so bold, but I embraced my victory. After all
I did get what I want.

"What are you so smiley about."

 
Oh,
it's alive!

He’d been so silent; I’d thought it best
to let him be.

“In my opinion.”

I started with a full grin.

“I believe I have lots of reasons to
smile, so if it's all the same to you I'll let you think about that and relish
my state of happiness." I was grinning.

"So you're happy?”

I could hear the concern in his
intonation.

"Oh baby! You're so hopeless!"

Did he think that I'm made of glass that
might break into a million pieces because of what we did?

"Baby?"

Landon echoed.

I didn't realize what I’d called him. It
was completely spontaneous. Even though I only applied endearment with my
friends, with him, it was natural.

I pulled him into a kiss, but winced at
the contact of the linen against my breasts.