Night Games (22 page)

Wow. He really got into the part.

“Your wishes mean nothing to me. Remove your clothing.” Amazing how mere words affected her. She could feel pleasure seeping into the part of her most vulnerable to seepage when Brian was around.

With his gaze narrowed on her, he slipped off his jacket, then yanked his black T-shirt over his head. She sucked in her breath at the sudden exposure of so much wonderful bare chest. And held it as he pulled off his sneakers and socks.

The breath she'd sucked in was exhaled with a whoosh as he unsnapped his jeans, then slid them down over his lean hips and muscular legs.

Ohmigod! “You don't wear . . . ? Not boxers,
they wouldn't be called boxers in a harem. You don't wear undergarments?” She fixed her gaze on his groin. He was . . . excellent.

“My mistress wants access to her favorite part of my body without excess cloth in her way.” He lifted his lips in a taunting smile that said he knew exactly how that part of his body affected Ally.

No kidding. She'd want access to that body part also. Especially if it kept gaining size and shape as it was now. “I have no interest in any of your body parts. You're less than nothing to me. Place yourself on the bed so I may bind you.”

He bit his lip, and she knew he wanted to say no. Tough. He was a slave. He'd do what his mistress ordered or feel the lash.
Arrogant male animal.

Was she getting into the fantasy, or what?

Reluctantly, he lay facedown on the bed.

Forget the foreplay. She'd have her climax right now. Brian facedown and naked was almost as great as Brian face up and naked.

She looked up at the ceiling mirror to get a better perspective. The contrast of golden skin tones against black satin sheets was a yummy décor triumph. And here she'd thought his choice of black sheets for his bordello-on-wheels was a bit . . . overdone. Silly her.

Now she had to tie him. Ally frowned. What to use? Finally, inspiration struck. Pulling open a drawer, she yanked out two of her black bras and two pairs of black panties. Coordinated in all
things. Not exactly harem-quality bindings, but they'd do.

Brian's glower lightened a little when he saw the bras and panties. “Not too authentic, babe.”

“I know.” She pursed her lips as she thought. “But I left my chains and implements of torture back in Arizona so I could fit my stuffed ducky in the suitcase. Sorry.” What could she tie his hands and feet to? Ah, there.

Ignoring his grumbles, she quickly bound his wrists and ankles to the mini-posts at each corner of the bed. She frowned. The bed didn't have king-size proportions, and the posts weren't too spectacular, but it was Brian who would fuel this fantasy. And he
definitely
had king-size proportions.

He turned his head to the side so he could watch her. “The other women who massage me wear no clothing.”

Ally smiled. He was back in their fantasy.

“It matters not to me what other women do, because . . .” Her smile widened. “I am more than a woman.”

He lowered his lids, hiding his expression. “The other women enjoy massaging me while they're naked.”

She cocked her head to study him. “I suppose less clothing would give me more freedom of movement. I'll remove some of my clothes, but not all. You don't deserve to see all of me.”

He turned his face into the bed. Was that muffled
laughter? Ally narrowed her gaze on him. He'd pay for that.

Waiting until he turned his face to her again, Ally slid her red sweater over her head. She touched her red lace bra, tried to look thoughtful, then shook her head.

She ignored his groan of disappointment.

Next she unsnapped her jeans, then pulled them slowly down her hips.
Pause for sensuous shimmying.
When Brian looked suitably interested, she slid the jeans down the rest of her legs and kicked them off along with her shoes. She fingered the red panties, pulled one side down with her thumb, then glanced at Brian.

His gaze turned dark, heated. “Take them off.”

Ally pulled the side back up. She gave him her best cruel-witch glance. “A slave doesn't give orders. I'll get my scented oil—” translation: vanilla almond body lotion—“so that I can relax your tight muscles.” She tried for an innocent look, but from the glare he leveled at her, Ally figured it wasn't too effective. “Your muscles
are
tight, aren't they?”

“Your punishment will be long and excruciating,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

“Promises, promises.” She turned her back to him and wiggled her way over to the counter, where she retrieved the lotion. This was fun. How long had it been since she'd had fun with sex?
Try never.

For just a moment she wondered at her lack of embarrassment. But after her Sex Super Bowl
experience, she felt a familiarity with this man's body that didn't allow for false modesty. No matter who had been on that bed with him, she'd taken joy in her sexuality and wouldn't consider denying it. Ally had liked the sensation.

She drew a deep breath and took one last visual stroll down the length of his body. Ally paused for some mental still shots of his incredible buns. Wherever women gathered to discuss marvelous buns, Ally could say she'd seen the best.

Quickly straddling Brian's hips, she paused to study the situation,
to savor the feel of his body between her thighs.
Leaning forward, she brushed his long hair away from his neck, exposing a part of him that had probably never known a woman's lips. Hers would be the first. Softly, she kissed the base of his neck, touched the spot with her tongue, tasted his skin. “When I'm finished with you, slave, you'll never know another woman's touch without thinking of me.” Okay, if you were going to fantasize, you might as well do it in a big way.

“If I were free . . .” His voice was husky, hinting that he'd finally realized the full scope of his folly.

Ally, the wicked-harem-massager, laughed at him. “But you are not free, and I can do whatever I want.” To illustrate, she slid back to kneel between his spread thighs.

No matter how she fought to maintain discipline in her body systems, her breathing was
breaking ranks with an embarrassing pant, pant. Could mutiny be far behind? Already her heart was out of step. She tried to ignore them. Pitter, pant, patter, pant. Ally concentrated on the job at hand.

Swallowing hard against an emotion that was part desire and part something she couldn't name, Ally reached between his thighs and cupped him, rubbed the base of her thumb back and forth, memorized his texture, his heat, then ran her fingernail lightly the length of his erection. “I have never seen a man more worthy of a woman.” She meant it.

His large body shuddered. “Your words and touch make me hard, woman.” Pause.
“Ally.”

Thank you.
“Enjoy what I do to you so that you may go to your mistress ready to give her pleasure.”
Over my sensually deprived body.
Ally wanted all pleasure reserved for herself.

She ignored a small determined voice that was shouting, “Hello! Fantasy. Remember?” and got down to the nitty-gritty. Pouring some lotion into her hand, she rubbed her palms together to warm it, then straddled his thighs again. Ally rubbed the lotion into his shoulders and back with hard strokes.

Soft and gentle wouldn't do it. She felt a gnawing hunger, a craving that settled low in her stomach. No chance of a midnight snack tonight, though. Not with his contract hovering over them like a virtual Richard Simmons warning that sex would make them fat.

But she could touch him. Lord, how she could touch him. Bending down, she lingeringly kissed his back, following the line of his spine. For the rest of eternity, the scent of vanilla almond would evoke this moment, the memory of his flesh warm and smooth beneath her lips. “I could eat you, Brian Byrne.”

“That's because I smell like a cookie.” His words might be light, but his soft murmur echoed her own need.

He raised his hips, filling the space between her thighs, pressing his buttocks hard against her.

She couldn't stand it anymore. The panties and bra she wore had to go. Every possible inch of her body had to come in direct contact with him. Kneeling at the foot of the bed, she quickly stripped them off.

Finally free, she knelt between his thighs again and lowered herself until her nipples touched his back. Closing her eyes, she moved back and forth, felt her nipples scrape over his back, his buttocks. Her nipples were so sensitive she wanted to scream, to ease the pleasure that was almost pain. It was too much.
Too little.
She couldn't stand another second without his mouth on her breasts, surrounding her with moist heat, his tongue touching, teasing, drawing the need from her.

“If this is your idea of foreplay, I don't think I'll live through your book.” His comment was an angry grunt. “Untie me so I can turn over.”

She was tempted, so tempted.

“I want to taste you, Ally.” His voice turned soft. “Your breasts, your belly, your—”

“No.” She already wanted the whole thing. If he turned over, she wouldn't be able to stop herself. She'd probably ignore his contractual obligations and plant herself on his erection, ride him until everyone in Ireland could hear her cries, bringing the wrath of the Old One down on her and all future generations of O'Neills.

She straddled his buttocks, spread her legs, and pressed herself down hard until she touched him with the part of her that was hot and needy. And needy was the right word. She clenched around a want so intense she had to move, do something, or scream. Slowly, she slid back and forth, felt his buttocks tighten, press upward.

“Untie me.
Now.”
His voice was a hard command.

She'd as soon uncage a tiger. Besides, she couldn't think beyond the rhythmic motion that brought her most sensitive spot in contact with his body. A small spasm shook her, but she knew she'd have nothing more tonight because . . . something about a contract. She couldn't think.

Ally was startled out of her pleasure as he jerked against his bonds.
Get back into the fantasy.
What would be the expected response if a slave tried to break free? Sliding off his body, she tried to think. He pulled at his bonds again.

“Stop that.” Ally didn't think; she reacted. She slapped his buttocks. Probably not an authentic
punishment for a disobedient slave, but . . . Realization set it. She'd hit him. “I can't believe I just did that. I'm so sorry.” Rubbing a circular pattern of regret on his firm buns, she mumbled more meaningless apologies.

With a muttered oath, he yanked one more time and freed himself. She edged to the side as he reached down to untie his ankles, then turned over and sat up. Ally wondered what her chances were of making it to the door. Not good. Besides, she was naked, and the Old One was probably camped outside.

Thoughts of escape disappeared as Brian pushed her onto the bed, then crouched over her. Uh-oh. This was not the same in-control man she'd seen during competition. His dark hair tumbled around his bare shoulders, his lips were a narrow line of anger, and his eyes were green heat.

“Don't
ever
take your fantasy and go off without me again.”

She dragged in a deep gulp of air. “I was into the plotline. What can I say?”

He leaned back on his heels and stared at her. Unable to meet his gaze, she looked at the ceiling. Mistake. Something was finally happening in her bed, and the ceiling mirror was faithfully beaming it back: his dark fall of hair, tanned muscular body, and his enormous need for her. She narrowed her gaze. But who was that woman sprawled beneath him? Tangled blond
hair, parted lips, and heaving breasts. Nope, Ally didn't know her.

She shifted her attention back to reality. “I guess you were into the plotline, too.”

His smile was deadly promise. “You have no idea, babe.”

He made her feel selfish. Okay, so she had been selfish. “I won't apologize again. You felt good. I was emotionally committed to the action. I was . . .”
I was completely out of control.

“If I didn't hear Cap's car coming, I'd explore other directions this fantasy could've taken.” He climbed from the bed and stepped into his jeans.

Cap's car? Katy! Quickly, Ally followed him off the bed and began dressing. “In my next fantasy I'll make sure—”

His slow smile touched her everywhere. Little Red Riding Hood would have recognized that smile in a heartbeat.

“The next fantasy is
mine.
And you'd better think long and hard before you take part in it because I'm going to make love to you, Ally O'Neill.”

He'd said make love, not have sex. “You can't. Your contract. Remember?”

Brian walked to the door, then turned. “The Boss and I did some renegotiating.” He nodded toward the bed. “Dream of me, babe.” Opening the door, he was gone.

Ally stared at the closed door.

Oh boy.

 

 

 

 

“I can't wait any longer, Ally. Get up.”

Ally groaned and pulled herself out of bed. Katy was like a snooze button on fast forward. Not even five minutes between naggings. “I'm up, I'm up.”

“Good, because I can't wait to tell you about the other spirits that haunt this castle.” Katy was holding a glass of orange juice. “Here. Drink. It'll wake you up.”

Obediently, Ally drank the juice. It was good, but it didn't have the usual orange juice taste. “What brand is this?”

Katy shrugged. “Who knows? Cap brought us a pitcher of it this morning.”

Ally closed her eyes. Oh, no. Another love potion. Yesterday's hadn't worked, so why should she worry about today's attempt?
Because you're
not sure yesterday's didn't work.
Today she had a clear head, and Ally was almost certain that only a love potion could cause her to act the way she had yesterday. Heat rose to her face even thinking about it. She'd lost control. Twice. Okay, so maybe she hadn't been herself during her reality experience, but she should have felt
some
embarrassment. And last night? She'd used his body. It was that simple. She'd ridden him with only one goal in mind. Actually, her mind had little to do with the whole thing.