Inside the Lines: Without a Trace series, a contemporary erotic romance novel (7 page)

I meet his gaze, his eyes a deep aquamarine in the low light of the restaurant. “It doesn’t need to be.”

Chapter 9

Dessert

It’s a good date. Fun, even. Despite the awkward beginnings, I’m amazed how quickly the night flies by, even after tacking on a dessert course and coffee. And there’s no lag in the conversation. Fin talks easily about his family, all of whom are in Scotland, of course, and his passion for animals. But he’s also conscious to ask me questions in an attempt to draw me out. While I neatly circumvent them, I do tell him stories about strange client requests, which make him laugh.

As we leave the restaurant, he reaches for my hand, and a strange happiness curls around my core. I don’t want the evening to end. The night air, while crisp, has a certain magical, romantic quality, and I go willingly when he tugs me to him. I let him guide my mouth to his; his lips are soft, but urgent, and fireworks explode over my senses. His hands slide up my back, beneath my jacket and shell, so the heat of him brands my skin.

I press into him, shifting my angle so when he opens his mouth, my tongue meets his in an erotic dance. My fingers grip his hair, my body on fire as his hands dip lower to cup my ass.

“I want to fuck you,” I whisper.

He kisses me deeper, barely coming up for air until we’re both breathless.

“Was that an answer?”

His forehead rests against mine. “Aye, well, I’m feeling a bit bashful. I dinna think a woman’s ever said such a thing to me.” His lips capture mine again in a searing kiss. “It’s not like I can hide wanting ye.”

I nip his lip and smile, pressing my hips against him and enjoying his groan. “Indeed. Come with me.” My apartment is much too far away, and I’ve never been one to take someone home after a first date.

My local friendships play in my favor yet again. In this case, I know Tori, the concierge at the Hilton near Grand Central Station and my best friend in middle school. After a quick conversation, she hooks me up with a free room at a nearby Hilton. Within walking distance, soon we’re in an elevator. Sadly, with other people, but that doesn’t stop me from drawing his mouth down to mine.

We’re both panting by the time we reach our floor, and I ignore the looks of the other passengers as we disembark and head for our room. We’re barely in the door when he pulls me to him, mouth hot on my neck. The door closes of its own accord as we stumble into the interior. He lifts me, settling me around his waist, and I can feel his cock pressing against me through the layers of clothing. Definitely too much clothing.

“I want to fuck you, and in order to do that, you need to undress.”

He smiles, clearly turned on by my directness. Putting me down, he removes his clothing in impressive time. I shed mine as well, down to my matching red panties and bra. He pulls a condom out of his wallet, and I nod my approval.

“Sit.”

His lips twitch with amusement, but he complies. I straddle him, and he surprises me by leaning back a bit, so I don’t have access to his mouth.

“Ye’re beautiful, Lux, truly.” He runs a finger over my collarbone, then draws it down between my breasts. “And soft.” He exchanges his finger for his mouth, the heat of his breath stealing my own. He nudges my breast from its confinement, and his teeth encircle the tip, driving the edge of pain and pleasure.

When his hand travels my thigh, seeking my core, I drop my head back in anticipation, even though I haven’t given an order or permission. Inside, a voice screams that I should take control back, but for the moment, as his fingers move my panties aside and tease the sensitive skin, I don’t care. At some point, he removes my bra and tortures my other breast as his finger slips inside me, his thumb vibrating against my clit.

“Let me hear ye come, love,” he says softly as he presses kisses against the hollow of my neck.

I nearly come apart with my orgasm, the sensation breaking over my skin like needles of pleasure. I grip his shoulders as he doesn’t let up, forcing me into an even greater high as another wave rocks my core.

Curled against him, I try to get my bearing once my breath stabilizes. His arms surround me, his fingers stroking my skin. I’m out of my element, confused by how intense the experience was, so I fill the moment with my mouth on his, my hands deep in his hair, gripping. He submits easily, even when I push him down to the bed, grinding against his hard cock, satin panties all that separate us. I devour his lips, stopping only to reach for the condom and remove my panties. I feather my fingers over his sensitive underside, admiring the size of him.

He grips the sheets. “Jesus,” he exhales as I bend close to his cock, blowing gently over the silken skin.

I slide down on him, my hyper-sensitive nerve endings colliding as his cock fills me. He sucks in a breath, eyes closed, as I gently rock my hips, easing his full length inside. Containing my response becomes challenging as he grips my hips, so I lace my fingers through his and confine them above his head. He tries to kiss me, but I hover over him, my hair creating a veil around his face. I meet his gaze with a challenge in my own. As though understanding my desire without a word, he begins to thrust deep, the size of him stretching me as the delicious friction increases. A moan escapes my control, and I have to close my eyes as expanding sensations overwhelm me.

My hands tighten around his, and I meet his rhythm with my own until the explosion of pleasure destroys all attempts at restraint. He quakes beneath me moments later, groaning into my hair. I collapse beside him, both of us spent.

“So, that was…something.”

We’re lying in bed, doing something I rarely do: cuddle. Or at least, I struggle with it, because it doesn’t come easily to me. In this man’s arms, it feels…good. Perhaps even right, though I’d be hard-pressed to say that out loud. I’ve just met him, after all, and there’s every chance he’ll head home, and I’ll never see him again.

I brush a finger over the light smattering of ginger-colored curls across his chest. “Aye, it was.” I try to mimic his accent, but it’s a horrible attempt, and we both end up laughing.

“Can I ask ye something personal?”

I turn onto my stomach, and his arm follows, his fingers finding the back of my neck and kneading my scalp. I could purr, it feels so amazing. “Turnabout is fair play, and if you keep that up, I’ll tell you anything.” I stretch my head forward so he has better access. “What did you want to ask?”

It takes him a moment before he responds. “Is it always like that for ye? I mean, when you are working, that is? With Ari, it seemed like ye really enjoyed it, I mean.”

Inwardly, I cringe.
This is why you have rules, Lux. And this is what happens when you break them
. I roll over, away from his touch, and look for my underwear. Spying them on the floor, I get up. As I dress, he watches me, face cautiously blank.

“I dinna mean to offend ye.”

I stop, silk tank in place, holding my pants in one hand. “You didn’t. This isn’t your fault. It’s mine.” I stare at the wall to gather my words. “I don’t usually sleep with clients. I’m a professional Dominatrix, not a prostitute. The other night with Ari…she’s a friend.” Lying is easier than trying to explain all the times I’ve broken the rules over the last few months. “Most of what I do is to help others have their fantasies, but I don’t get involved sexually.”

“So,” his brows draw together, “Professional Dominatrices dinna have sex with their clients? So what is it ye do then? Not meaning to sound daft, but I can’t say I’m all that familiar with the profession.”

His question and tone of voice are so innocent, I chuckle. “Honestly, that’s a good question. What do I do? Let’s see… I work with people who have fetishes or want to be dominated. Or they might be like Ari, and not really know what they want, so I help them sort that out.”

“Aye, well, I imagined that well enough. But how do you do that
without
having sex with them?” He shifts to his side so he can look at me, and I can’t help but admire the muscular curves of his shoulders.

I shrug. “I do what they like, and that’s all they pay me for.”

“Aren’t they a bit aroused after ye’re done?”

“Yeah, usually. That’s for them to take care of.” I can’t believe I’m actually blushing. But his intense curiosity and rapt attention feel different. Most people are either put off by what I do or make crude comments. So his honest questions are a change. Or maybe it’s that he’s gorgeous and naked. That could be it too, I suppose.

“Damn, woman. Ye’re cruel.”

I wink. “Of course. That’s what they pay me for.”

“So… could ye show me what ye do for a client sometime? Though I’d like to keep with the fucking part after, if ye don’t mind.”

I’ve changed my mind on getting dressed, given that he’s, well, delicious. I drop a knee onto the bed. “Mr. MacKenzie, do you wish to be tortured? Is that what you’re saying?” I slink onto all fours on the mattress.

He has the good sense to look confused. “Aye, well, I dinna mean I want ye to abuse me, Mistress.” He watches me circumspectly as I move towards him. “But I wouldna mind experiencing bits of it.”

“I’ll have to see what I can do.” And then I kiss him. He stretches out beside me, pulling me against him, and I lose myself in his scent and touch. He manages to remove the clothing I hastily donned, and desire burns a path across my skin as he aligns my body with his. Spreading my legs so he can rub himself against me, he reaches down over my ass and slides his fingers along my already wet sex. I wrap my leg around his hip, giving him easier access. When his fingers slip inside me, I hold him to me, unable to stop the climax that builds. But my arm is trapped beneath us, and even as I reach my crescendo, panic builds in its wake. His mouth drowns out the scream that threatens.

Several moments pass before he realizes that I’m crying, and if I hadn’t just had an orgasm that left my legs weak, I would move away. Instead, I try to hold in the wails that fight for escape. I wriggle to get my arm free, and he shifts back, giving me enough space to do so.

“Jesus, Lux, what happened? Did I hurt ye? What is it?”

When I don’t respond—can’t—he wraps himself around me, pulling me on top of him as I battle with an inner demon that I refuse to let win. He strokes my hair and shoulders, whispering nonsensical words that are oddly comforting in his deep voice.

And then I fall asleep, victorious over the dark.

Chapter 10

Good News

There is nothing more embarrassing than crying after sex. Okay, there probably is. But in my small corner of the world, that’s pretty much the worst. And of course, Fin only wanted to know how he could help. This morning. Because not only did we have sex on the first date—which is not an unusual thing for me—but we also slept through the night—which is highly unusual for me. And there’s nothing worse than dressing in the same clothes from the night before. Bleck.

Nonetheless, I learn three things about Fin as a result. One, he is adorable in the morning. Like he’s seriously one of those guys that wakes up warm, handsome, and delicious. I know—hate him, right? Except that there’s the second thing I discovered, which is that he’s even more amazing in bed the next day. And three, he’s a ridiculously sweet guy. Perhaps even a good guy. And he wouldn’t say good-bye this morning until I assured him that last night’s emotional brouhaha had nothing to do with him, was a result of being exhausted, and I would be fine.

Which causes me all kinds of concern on the subway ride home because I ruin good guys. Or at least, I ruin relationships with good guys. Despite my best attempts in the past, I’ve never been able to get things to last, and if I’m honest, it’s my issue. Or issues...

When I get home, all I can think about is Fin’s parting kiss, the last taste of his skin, and the final touch of his hand on the back of my neck.

Fuck.

I do not have time for this. Or the emotional bandwidth. Or…whatever. I just don’t. And when I walk in the door, Noah is already on the case.

“Wow. That was either a very high-paying client, or someone got fucked good last night.” He raises an appraising eyebrow and circles me. “Hm, I’m going with a good fucking. Anyone I know? Or should know?”

I give him a withering glance, uncomfortable with his harmless insinuation that cuts just a bit too close. “Given all the times you come in with rumpled clothes and I don’t give you shit, I should get a pass.”