Glow (23 page)

“Are you getting wet?” he asked her bluntly a minute later. He set down his glass of champagne and twisted in his chair, picking up the champagne bottle. He poured himself another glass and glanced at her, expecting an answer.

“Yes,” she told him a little defiantly. How could she not be wet, standing there watching such a beautiful man masturbating right in front of her. His manner was that of a prince or a sheikh, a man used to having his every command followed. He wasn't playing a part, though. Dylan was a sexual dominant by nature, and undoubtedly was used to getting what he wanted in this arena. It certainly was true in Alice's case. It aroused her to do what he demanded . . . but of course, she couldn't appear to be giving in
too
easily.

“Slip out of your gown,” he said, leaning back in his chair and lifting his champagne to his lips. “Prove to me you're aroused.”

“
Prove
to you,” she muttered under her breath a little sourly. She rolled her eyes. Nevertheless, she lowered the fabric of the gown over her belly and shimmied her hips to encourage it to fall down her thighs and legs. He grunted and began to stroke himself again at the tight shaking of her hips.

“Dip your fingers between the lips,” he ordered thickly. Alice
complied, a moan escaping her throat. She rubbed her clit through thick cream. “I can see how wet you are,” he said, his stare glued between her thighs. She circled her fingers and whimpered. His focused attention and jacking hand were making her desperate.

Wanton.

She lifted her hand and let him see her moisture glistening on her skin. Slowly, she lifted her hand to her mouth and slid her moist fingers between her lips. His pumping hand paused mid-staff. He watched her narrowly as she sucked her juices off her first two fingers.

“Don't try to control the pace, Alice,” he warned softly, his eyes glittering dangerously.

A smile tugged at her pursed lips.

“I think you need something to cool you off,” he said grimly. He let go of his cock and it thumped tautly against his abdomen. “Get your fingers out of your mouth, you little witch, and come here.”

She stepped between his knees, holding her breath as he cradled her hips and then whisked his hands up and down the sensitive sides of her body. He cupped her breasts and squeezed them gently.

“Just what I thought. You're very warm.” Still cradling a breast with one hand, he picked up his champagne glass.

“Dylan,” she whispered warningly, her eyes going wide as she watched him slowly tip the glass above the breast he held. The liquid reached the lip of the flute and dribbled onto her breast, sliding down the upper curve and dripping off the nipple. She gasped.

“Cold?” he asked, rubbing the champagne into her nipple with his fingertips.

“You know it is,” she said, sounding breathless.

“Yes. I can see that it is,” he said distractedly, studying the proof of her beading nipple. He tilted the glass again. Her sex tightened in anticipation as she watched the golden liquid slip over the rim and splash onto her breast. Again, he ran his fingers over the mounds and nipple, distributing the champagne.

“No, you're still flushed with heat,” he said, shaking his head.

“Is that a crime?” she asked dazedly, highly distracted by watching his fingers rub her moist skin and nipple.

“No. It's just an experiment.” She blinked at his seemingly innocent tone.

“An experiment in torture,” she muttered, watching him pinch lightly at her nipple. Her clit gave a twinge of sympathetic arousal at the caress.

He smiled, clearly not planning on defending himself. Instead, he reached for the ice bucket and placed it on the table next to him.

“No,” she whispered when he dipped his hand into the silver bucket that was beaded with moisture.

“I like my champagne very cold,” he said. He held her stare and placed a small cube of ice against her nipple. Alice knew what was coming, but she couldn't prevent herself from jumping slightly. Her mouth trembled as he rubbed the hard, cold cube against her, manipulating her flesh. She shivered in a mixture of discomfort and sharp pleasure. “Look how stiff it's getting,” he said, eyeing her nipple. He reached with his free hand and grabbed some more ice. Alice whimpered in anxious anticipation as he lifted both hands. He began to rub the ice on both her nipples at once.

“Stop,” she whispered without any heat. Her entire body was drawn tight with tension. Her nipples ached with cold and sharp arousal. She'd never seen them so tight and erect.

“Just a moment more,” Dylan replied, his thick, distracted tone telling her loud and clear how aroused he was by his task. The cubes melted beneath his rubbing fingers until they were nothing more than cool rivulets of water running down her breasts and ribs.

“Please,” she whispered, even though she wasn't precisely sure for what she begged.

His gaze flickered up to her face. He lowered his moist fingers and reached for the bottle of champagne.

“You're right. I'm very thirsty.”

Alice whimpered as he lifted the bottle.

“Stay still,” he directed, perhaps sensing the tension coiling in her body.

She couldn't still her jump as he poured the icy liquid over both her breasts. He set aside the bottle as Alice stood there, trembling with desire, champagne dripping off her nipples and streaming down her ribs. He regarded her sheened breasts grimly, a snarl slanting his mouth. Then he was pulling her to him, his hot mouth enfolding a tight, aching nipple, his tongue laving off the moisture. Her shaky moan of disbelief and arousal twined with his rough groan of satisfaction.

He cupped her other breast, rubbing the damp nipple, while he sucked her tautly. It was unbearable. Her nipple popped free from his pursing lips, and he ran his tongue over the globes of first one breast, then the other, gathering the drops of champagne. Then he tongued her ribs and belly. Alice quaked, her thighs tightening to stifle the stabbing arousal at her sex. She moaned in rising misery. He must have heard her.

He lowered a hand between her thighs and rubbed her creamy clit firmly. Her mouth sagged open at the sharp pleasure. He returned to her breasts, sipping and licking. When he drew a tight crest into his warm mouth and sucked firmly, Alice cried out and began to come against his hand. He never paused in his actions as she shuddered in climax. The only indication that he knew she was coming was the low, rough growl that vibrated in his throat. He continued to stroke and quench his thirst on her, working every last tremor out of her.

Or so Alice had thought. Until he cradled her hips in his hands and lowered his head, sliding his tongue in the cleft of her labia. She cried out as tension leapt back into her muscles, and his firm tongue demanded another shudder of pleasure from her.

Suddenly, he was standing and pulling her tightly against him, his hands running over her hips, back, and ass, kissing her harshly
with lips and tongue that tasted of champagne and her—Alice. Her body felt flushed and tingling, satiated but still ringing with desire. His strength and hardness stilled her dizziness. She craned for him, pressing her belly against his thick cock, straining against him, and squeezing the tight, hard muscles of his ass in her hands.

He tore his mouth from hers roughly a moment later, his ragged breath hitting her face. He pressed his fingertips to her upturned lips and slid them into her mouth. Alice closed around him, sucking him deeper. For several seconds, he watched with a feral focus as he finger-fucked her mouth. He slipped them from between her lips and leaned down to kiss her swollen lips.

“On your knees,” he whispered against her mouth. Her heart jumped at his words and the fierce gleam in his eyes.

He grasped her hands, kicking his discarded trousers between them. He guided her down until her knees rested against the cushion of the fabric. Immediately, he cupped his heavy erection from below and guided the flushed cockhead between her lips. She looked up at him as he pulsed his hips. He grasped her head.

“That's right. Look at me while I fuck your hot little mouth,” he rasped, his face tight with lust. “Do you have any idea how beautiful you look right now?”

She suspected he saw her total surrender in that moment. Alice allowed him to see it. It gave her strength, somehow, to abandon herself to his pleasure.

She raised her hand and fisted him, stroking him as she sucked him deeper. He was hard and flagrant, filling her mouth, stretching her aching lips. With one hand on his hip, she urged him to thrust faster even as she ducked her head at the same pace. He was demanding of her, but she was just as demanding of him. He held her head in place and thrust deep. She overrode her body's response to reject him, her hunger trumping instinct. His face tightened and he shuddered in pleasure.

“That's right,” he grated out. “You're so sweet; you're going to let
me use you for a moment, aren't you. Ah God, that's good.” He thrust faster, but Alice kept pace with him, loving his low, rough grunts of pleasure. She felt his excitement mounting as if it were her own.

She felt him spasm against her tongue.

He withdrew partially as he began to climax, thrusting shallowly and ejaculating on her tongue. He groaned harshly, gripping her hair between his fingers. Her eyes sprang wide as all his coiled, incendiary power was unleashed. She struggled to keep up with him, sucking and swallowing, feeling his cock twitch and throb as he thrust, while more and more of his semen spread on her tongue.

Finally, his ejaculations waned. His still rigid, streaming cock popped out from between her pursed lips. She craved more of his taste once he was gone, pushing the tip of her tongue into his slit. She looked up at him, laving the swollen, glistening cockhead. He stared down at her, still grasping her head, his nostrils flaring slightly, his dark gypsy eyes smoldering as she lapped up every trace of him she could find.

She kissed the tip of his cock, pausing to glide her mouth against the wet skin. A grim smile pulled at his lips.

“You never give half-measure,” he said, his eyelids narrowed as he studied her. “I love you for that, among other things.”

“For giving good head?”

His mouth twitched. “For giving yourself so completely. Come here,” he said, suddenly sounding stern. He bent to put his hands on her shoulders, urging her to stand.

“What, am I in trouble?” she joked, a little confused by his intensity.

“No. You've been very good. Exceptionally so,” he said, turning to shift his covered plate and the ice bucket over to the side table. He swiftly did the same with the silver and glassware. Then he was reaching for her and lifting her onto the table.

“What are you doing?” she asked him in amazement when he pulled up his chair and sat again.

“Spread your thighs,” he demanded shortly. She opened her legs and he scooted his chair between her parted knees. She yelped when he put his hands on her hips and jerked her closer, her pussy zipping to the edge of the table.

“I drank,” he said, lowering his head between her thighs. He used his thumbs to spread her labia. She saw his small, grim smile. “You ate. Now it's time for my meal.”

*   *   *

THEY
finally actually
did
eat the meals Marie had prepared them. Alice remained sitting on the table in front of him, naked and flushed from multiple climaxes. She held the plate in her lap and fed him succulent bites of food from her fork, serving herself every other bite and laughing when she occasionally spilled grains of rice onto her stomach or his thighs. They talked about trivial things, and she teased him mercilessly.

“It's a lot easier than I thought it'd be,” she said spontaneously a while later when they moved on to the delicious birthday cake.

“What?” Dylan asked, taking a bite from the fork she extended.

“Loving you.”

He paused in chewing, his eyes flashing as he looked up at her. Still holding her stare, he took the plate from her lap and set it aside.

“I don't know how you do it.”

“What?” she asked, breathless, because she recognized that gleam in his eyes. He stood and lifted her off the table.

“Be such a smart-ass one second, and so sweet the next.”

She smiled. He'd told her that before.

“I don't want to be predictable.”

His dark eyes glistened from amusement and candlelight. “Heaven forbid.”

At his urging, they covered the cake and blew out the candles, but left everything else behind. He led her to his bedroom, where he
told her to lie down on the bed. She stared up at him, enraptured, a moment later as he came over and entered her.

“Was it a happy birthday?” he asked, his muscles bulging as he held himself off her and his cock throbbed deep inside her.

“The happiest day I've ever had.”

“Alice,”
he rasped.

He began to move. The truth of what she'd said filled and overwhelmed her.

It frightened her a little, too.

T
he next morning, Dylan awoke alone. He rose and donned some pants, concerned but not as alarmed as he'd been in the past to realize Alice was in the house alone, a potential victim to memories that didn't feel like her own.

This morning, he had a feeling he knew where he'd find her. When he reached the top steps that led to the back veranda, he heard the telltale squeak of the porch swing. Relieved, he opened the door.

She rocked on the big old swing, one bare foot on the floor propelling her, the other bent and resting on the swing. On top of her thigh rested a plate of cake. She smiled around the fork she'd just inserted into her mouth when she saw him approaching.

“I woke up thinking about this cake,” she said, chewing.

He sat down next to her, his hands at the edge of the swing, and regarded her closely. Alice with the fire of defiance in her eyes was always a fierce trial on his patience and senses. But Alice's eyes sparkling with happiness as she relished a long overdue birthday cake left him lung-locked and mute for a moment.

Her brow crinkled. “Do you want some?” she asked, waving in the direction of the cake. She'd misunderstood his intent expression as he'd witnessed her glowing happiness. She started to get up, as if to get him some cake.

He caught her hand, halting her and shaking his head. Instead, he kissed her softly, the sweetness lingering on her lips more than
satisfying him. After a moment, he lifted his head and leaned back in the swing, his arm around her.

“Go ahead,” he instructed gruffly. “Eat your cake.”

He noticed her satisfied smile as she snuggled up next to him and resumed eating. He tightened his arm around her and stared out over the railing. It would be a clear day. The sun had risen, but just recently. It cast the eastern woods in a pale gold light. Alice lingered over her last bite, carefully scraping up all the icing off the plate. He glanced at her amusedly as she sucked every last remnant off her fork.

He held out his hand with a droll expression. Laughter filled her eyes as she handed her plate to him. He returned a moment later, a hefty fresh slice of cake on it.

“It's really good,” she insisted by way of explanation for her early morning hunger for birthday cake.

“The breakfast of champions.”

She laughed and offered him a bite, which he took. “I hope so. The bonfire is tomorrow and they'll be announcing the team totals. I could use any edge I could get. I can't believe camp is over this Friday, and the kids leave on Saturday.”

“Red Team was on top last week. I've heard it's still in the running this week.”

Alice nodded, forking more cake in her mouth. “We've got a good chance, but Thad's team is always a threat, and Dave Epstein's Gold Team and Brooke Seifert's Silver have had good weeks. Everyone is really coming together and forming solid team identities.”

He smiled in memory of his days as both a camper and then a counselor at Camp Durand. “You might have to do something a little out of the box to get the managers' attention. Team building is crucial, but at this point, they'll be looking for more. Some dazzle.”

“Dazzle?”

He shrugged. “Salesmanship is a huge part of being a successful
manager. You know that. That's how it'd be in the business world if you were competing for a contract, talking retailers into higher product numbers or negotiating for product placement, convincing a bank Durand has a high trust value for expansion loans . . . whatever. It's not enough to just show them numbers, you've got to be different from everyone else. You've got to stand out.”

She looked thoughtful and grim as she took another bite of cake. “Don't worry about me. Brooke Seifert has been telling me from the start I was
different
.”

“You are,” he assured her, skimming his fingertips over her shoulder. She glanced at him uncertainly. “I've been telling you from the beginning, that's a
good
thing.”

She ducked her head. She stuck her fork into the cake with great focus. “Thank you again for yesterday,” she said quietly.

He stroked her shoulder. “It was my pleasure. It was a special day for me, too.”

He saw color spread on the cheek nearest to him. She continued to study her cake like she'd discovered it held the secrets of the universe.

“You probably have had it happen a lot,” she murmured.

“What?” he asked, sensing her disquietude. He continued to stroke her silky skin, silently reassuring her.

“Have women tell you they love you.”

“You were the first.”

Her fork plinked on the china plate. She turned fully to face him, clearly startled.

“What?”

“You were the first person to ever tell me you loved me. When you were four years old. Of course, you told Angelfire you loved her constantly, and the Raggedy Ann doll you'd fed strawberry preserves one day and had a permanent red beard and mustache as a result, and the mangy stray cat that hung around the stables . . . so I'm not sure how much your proclamation of love
meant,” he said, shrugging. He met her gaze, his amusement fading. “But you
were
the first.”

For several seconds, she just stared at him, her dark blue eyes glistening.

“It meant something,” she finally said feelingly.

He nodded. He wasn't quite sure if she'd understood how much hearing those words for the first time when he was an angry, lonely boy of fourteen years had meant to him, or if she was saying her innocent declaration of love had been more than just the passing childish sentiment of a little girl. It didn't matter.

The light shining in her eyes at that moment was all that did.

*   *   *

THEY
spent an idyllic day together. Dylan showed her the workout facility. They did a workout together—more or less, anyway. They were in the same room, but there was no way she could have approximated his routine. The wonders of his lean, powerful body started to make perfect sense to her.

He told her to bring along a swimsuit, and they'd go for a swim after their exercise. Alice hadn't even realized there was a swimsuit among all the items he'd purchased for her. When she looked, she discovered a sophisticated low-cut black maillot that was about a thousand times sexier than Alice's practical camp swimsuit.

After their workout, he showed her to a beautiful pool that was hidden, nestled as it was among the trees and gardens at the far side of the house. There, they spent a few hours in the hot afternoon sun, sipping chilled white wine, swimming, talking, and snacking off a tray of fruit, crackers, and cheese.

At one point, Alice's eyelids started to grow heavy while she lay on a chaise lounge. They flickered open again at the pressure of Dylan's mouth brushing against hers. Her hand went to the back of his head, and their kiss deepened, turning hot, wet, and deep.

“Let's move this party to the bedroom. You're getting a
sunburn,” he murmured next to her lips a moment later. His fingertips skimmed the inner swell of her breast. Despite the heat, her nipples tightened. Wearing the skimpy swimsuit, skin that was usually covered was exposed, both to the sun and Dylan's admiring stares and caressing fingertips.

“
That's
your excuse for getting me into bed?” she teased, nipping at his lower lip.

“Do I need an excuse?”

“No, but it's cocky just to assume.”

He opened a big hand on her hip and ass, his fingertips sinking into a buttock. “I am cocky, though,” he said, and she saw the gleam of his eyes in the shadow of his lowered brow. A thrill went through her. She loved the way he touched her: so possessive. So sure. He never held anything back. “Is this a complaint?”

“No,” she whispered. “Not at the moment, it isn't. I reserve the right to change my mind though.”

His small smile widened a tad.

“You go ahead. I'm going to clean this stuff up and take it in,” he said, waving at the remains of their meal and wine. “Go and take a quick shower to cool off your skin. I'll meet you upstairs in a minute. Pull down the covers all the way and lay down on your back,” he said, his eyelids heavy and his stare hot as he looked down at her. “I'm going to restrain you.”

“Any other commands, master?”

His brows slanted. “Quite a few, in fact,” he said, ignoring her sarcasm.

She laughed.

A moment later, she walked along the slate stone path alone through trees, shrubbery, and waving flowers. The workout, two glasses of wine, and the hot sun had her feeling drowsy and content. The pool area was extremely well secluded. When she reached a split on the stone path, she hesitated. They'd taken a different route
from the workout facility to the pool. Knowing she'd eventually find her way back no matter what, she chose the left-hand path.

It was the wrong way. She realized that as soon as she heard the waves hitting the shore in the distance. She continued forward, knowing that when she left the trees, she could just walk through the backyard and terraced garden to the house. There was a clearing just ahead.

She emerged from the wooded area, breathing deeply of the fresh breeze. She saw the gray and white cobblestone fence at the very end of the property, and the blue, sea-like Great Lake taking up the entire horizon. A memory popped into her head of seeing Thad, Brooke, and Tory Hastings—another Durand counselor—standing at the edge of the bluff at the fence and down at the lake. She'd seen them in the distance on the evening of the counselors' welcome to Camp Durand several weeks ago. It'd been the night Dylan had found her, alone and disoriented in the castle's dining room, convinced she'd heard a gong. Later, she'd stood shoulder to shoulder with Dylan, staring down at the Camp Durand party that took place on the terrace. Thad, Brooke, and Tory had stood at this very fence.

Alice herself had never ventured to the end of the yard or the edge of the bluff. The fence was quite sturdy, though—at least four feet high and nine or ten inches thick. It was a fence made for safety, not a delicate garden ornament. Curious, she stepped forward and cautiously glanced down.

The waves collided against the shore far below her, startling her.

Of course it was all so strange, everything that had happened to her since coming to Camp Durand. But the reality of her singular circumstances seemed to crash in at that moment with as much force as the waves hitting the rocks below.

A feeling of dizziness assailed her. She'd had no idea the bluff was so high up from the shore, or that it was such a drastic drop-off
from the edge. Forty or more feet below her, the waves struck an ominous-looking beach of glistening, jagged rock. No wonder she'd never wandered down here. Instinctively, she must have realized that with her fear of heights, it was a very undesirable place to be.

For a few panicked seconds, however, she couldn't move. She stood frozen, staring down as if hypnotized by the sight of the waves hitting the dramatic, stark shoreline. The sound held her in a spell, too. The rhythmic rush and slap of the waves struck her as forceful and bizarrely intense, given the sublimely beautiful summer day.

Violent.

“Alice?”

She spun around at the sound of Dylan's voice, the action unsteadying her. She faltered and reached out in a panicked fashion to catch hold of something.

“Ouch,” she cried out when her hand struck a cobblestone hard, and pain shot through her. For a split second, she had the experience of falling in the direction of the shore. The wind rushed in her ears. Vertigo and blind terror struck her.

Then Dylan's arms were around her and he was pulling her away from the stone wall.

“Are you okay?” he demanded tensely.

Alice stared up at him, knocked utterly off balance. Not just physically. Mentally. Her entire being had rocked there for a moment. She stared over his shoulder, her mouth gaping open. The fence looked perfectly steady and solid. It'd just been her vertigo that made it feel as if it were giving way, and that she was falling.

“I'm fine,” she mumbled. Embarrassment swept through her when she noticed his fierce, anxious expression as he looked down at her.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going up to the house,” he said sharply.

“I don't know. I lost my way.” Irritation pierced her anxiety. She glared at him. “Why are you snapping at me? Do you think I'd come here and stare off the side of that bluff on purpose?”

She saw his shadowed gaze flicker from the path she'd taken to the drop off the bluff. “No, I suppose not,” he said slowly after a pause. What was that she read on his rigid features? Trepidation? Caution? No . . . it wasn't that. The gate had slammed down on his expression. It was the expression he'd get occasionally when he was keeping something from her.
Wasn't
it?

Maybe it was, Alice wasn't sure. She felt confused. All she wanted at that moment was to get away from the edge of that treacherous bluff. Her fear made her irrational, in more ways than one.

“Well, I
know
not,” she corrected heatedly. Her skin was prickling and she felt nauseated. “Can we please go inside?”

She broke from his arms and stalked toward the long yard that led toward the house. After she'd gone twenty feet or so, he halted her by grabbing her hand. She looked back at him.

“I know how scared you are about heights. I was shocked to see you standing there. It looked like every ounce of blood had left your head when you turned around. It just . . . alarmed me.”

“Well, it alarmed me, too!”

He closed his eyes briefly. His skin had darkened this afternoon. With the sun behind him, his face looked shadowed and enigmatic to her stunned brain.

“I know,” he said, opening his eyes. This time, she read the concern in his expression perfectly. “I'll ask you again, are you okay?”