Show and Tell (41 page)
“Don’t I get a glass of Bordeaux?” She’d never had Bordeaux because it sounded so fantastically rich and fattening.
Scott rose, doing a slow pace around her, his breath stirring her hair. “Lose the shoes,” he murmured.
Kicking them off, she watched in the window’s reflection as he leaned close to inhale her scent. His lids drifted shut a moment, he swallowed, then a low sound rose from his belly. Distanced by the reflection yet feeling his heat, his breath, scenting his skin, it was all so incredibly erotic, as if she were a participant and a voyeur all at the same time.
The full length of his body caressing her from behind, he slid his hands round her middle to the tie of her coat and pulled it loose. “Your wish is my command,” he murmured, “but first let’s get rid of this.”
Dragging it down her arms halfway, he held her trapped, the sleeves binding her hands behind her. She felt a moment of helplessness, vulnerability, and yet it was tantalizing. Then he tugged her free and threw the coat across the sofa. His chin resting on the top of her head, he gazed at their images in the window. “Don’t move.”
Was it pathetic to like to feel dominated? So taken by him? Giving up control could open her to the same kind of devastation she’d experienced with Harper. And yet . . . this was different in a way she couldn’t explain even to herself. Her eyes followed as he passed through an arch into the dining area, then disappeared beyond the wall. She couldn’t have moved even if she’d had a mind to.
Waiting by his car for him, she’d had things to apologize for. The omission about Harper, the fear that her lies would cause Scott trouble she never intended. She’d let him gather her into his car and bring her here, and she’d never even considered that not another soul on the planet knew where she was.
His footsteps on the hardwood dining room floor heralded his return. In the kitchen, he’d removed his suit jacket. A deep purple wine filled the goblet he handed her. He could have doctored it, dropped in a drug, arsenic, anything.
“Taste it,” he whispered as if he were offering beluga caviar or lobster dripping with butter. Or a drop of his come.
Trinity put the glass to her lips, raised the stem, and let the warm, woody wine slip over her tongue. Spicy, a taste fruity, a hint of bitterness that enhanced rather than detracted.
Angled to her side, he pulled her hair back, tracing the rim of her ear as he tucked the locks away. “Good?”
“Yes.” She wasn’t a wine connoisseur nor knowledgeable about poisons, but wasn’t arsenic bitter?
“It’s a Syrah. I thought you might like it.”
“I thought you were going to give me Bordeaux.” Maybe Syrah masked a drug taste more easily.
“Another sip.” He tapped the bottom of the glass.
His heat all around her, his male scent calling to her, Trinity lifted the goblet to her lips again and drank more deeply, swirling the wine around her tongue. It went down like ambrosia or the best champagne cocktail she’d ever had, and yet it tantalized her mind, tingled in her toes.
Maybe she should have worried. A normal woman would. But Trinity drank because she trusted him. It hadn’t been something she even thought about in the car. She trusted that he would give her pleasure, that he would take her home in the morning, that he would take care of her spirit as well as her body.
If she were to find him in the shower with a woman, it would be because they’d agreed that a third in the mix would be fun.
Not that Trinity would share him with another woman.
God, what was happening to her? She’d never had these thoughts before.
He gathered the glass from her suddenly numb fingers. “Now take your clothes off like I told you to.” He punctuated the command with his fingers, trailing down her arm, his nails brushing her breast, his cock hard at her hip, and his lips at her ear turning her body to jelly.
Then he was gone, once again seated in the gold chair, the wine goblet to his mouth. Trinity ached to lick the flavors from his lips. What he offered wasn’t sex—it was a journey she couldn’t resist.
Hands trembling, she undid the back zip of her dress. With her arms up, the hem rose to the tops of her thighs, and Scott’s eyes tracked every movement. A brazen shade of teal, the dress turned her eyes turquoise. With a high waist, the bodice nipped in below her breasts, emphasizing them. She lowered her arms and took the zipper all the way, the lining sliding down to caress her hips as she let the top fall. Then the dress pooled on the gold carpet at her feet, and she stood in bra, thong, and thigh-high stockings.
“Very nice.” Scott deliberately stroked himself through his pants. “Pull down your bra and pinch your nipples for me.”
Trinity did, pleasure-pain streaking down her legs, then back up. Following a man’s command had never felt so good, so exhilarating. But then, no man had bothered to command her. They didn’t need to, she was always so willing to anticipate what they wanted. Little Miss Perfect, the perfect date.
“Tell me what else—”
He held a finger to his lips. “Don’t speak until I say.”
Like in the theater. A full-body flush raced over her skin. She loved what he did to her with words and his heated gaze, and who cared why. Trinity gave herself over to his game.
“Bra, off.” He pointed his finger.
She popped the front closure and wriggled the straps down her arms. His eyes traced the progress, the brown irises darkening to rich cocoa. Trinity’s nipples peaked. He licked his lips.
Elbows on the arms of his chair, he laced his fingers. “Panties.” He indicated, up, down, with a flick of his index fingers.
Her thong was already damp. Deep, sexy, his voice set her body on a high simmer. Hooking her thumbs in the elastic, she slipped the scrap of material down and stepped out of it.
“Give it to me.” He held out his hand.
Trinity tossed. He caught the lace confection, then held it to his nose, his eyes on her. His action should have felt perverted, but another flush suffused her body. He was earthy. She’d never known anyone like him.
Crumpling the panty in his hands before clasping them in the same position, he tipped his head. “You’re wet, aren’t you?”
She opened her mouth, then remembered she wasn’t supposed to speak. Instead she nodded.
“Come here.”
It was four steps, but a rush of moisture turned her plump and needy between the legs.
“I love that you’re so willing. That you get off on each new thing I ask you to do.” He passed his palm over her curls, barely touching her mound. “Such passion,” he murmured, “and a lust for everything. I want that.”
“That’s not me,” she whispered, despite his earlier order for silence.
He mesmerized her with his deep gaze. “Oh yes it is. Maybe you’ve been denying it to yourself, but it’s your true nature.”
Trinity loved how he saw her. He’d wanted her with her hair a mess, her lipstick smudged. He’d wanted her even after she’d played the ditz for his daughters. He’d actually apologized for accusing her of blackmail when she’d been the one to withhold the complete truth from him. He accepted her, it was that simple. And he made her want to do anything for him, to
be
the woman he thought she was. Not a mask she donned, but releasing the real woman inside her. To him, she was special, not just a face or a body, but a woman.
be
the woman he thought she was. Not a mask she donned, but releasing the real woman inside her. To him, she was special, not just a face or a body, but a woman.
“Spread your feet apart.”
Clad in only her thigh highs, she was naked, fully exposed. Scott slipped a finger along her, grazing her clitoris, wetting his skin. Eyes on her, he sucked her juice from his fingers.
Her nostrils flared, her eyes turning a midnight blue. Trinity swallowed, and he knew if he touched her again, he’d find her warm and even creamier.
His cock screamed to push her to her knees and take her over the coffee table right in front of him, yet they had so many more things to do. “Now you do it.”
Spreading her legs, she slowly trailed down her abdomen to the trimmed blond curls, and dropped her gaze.
“Look at me while you do it.”
Her nipples pearled. He wanted to suck them. But he thought he’d die when she tunneled two fingers between her legs, stroked herself, then lifted her hand to her lips and sucked her flesh clean.
Holy hell. Scott rubbed his cock, damn close to explosion. He meant for her to let
him
lick her fingers, yet her error set him on fire. “I want to taste it on your lips.”
him
lick her fingers, yet her error set him on fire. “I want to taste it on your lips.”
Bracing herself on the arm of his chair, she leaned over, her hair caressing his face. Touching his tongue to hers, he tasted her sweet musk while her heady scent clouded his mind.
Fuck her, fuck her,
his mind and body shouted in unison. But he was stronger than that.
his mind and body shouted in unison. But he was stronger than that.
When she rose to her full height again, he demanded in a low, husky voice that barely sounded like his own, “Turn around.”
She did, revealing her gorgeous ass. Skimming a finger down the crevice, he touched her lightly, testing. She shivered.
“Bend over and spread your legs again.”
She complied, wrapping her hands around her calves for balance. Scott nibbled one butt cheek, then slipped down further, past the sensitive flesh of her ass to her wet pussy. Her clit was a hard nub begging for his mouth.
“I want you to stay like that.” Behind her, he rose. A tremble coursed down her spine. He knew what she thought. He’d take her now, thrust inside her, but again, that would be too quick, over in minutes, when he had all night to play with her.
Scott rounded the chair and took the two steps up from the living room, leaving Trinity with her butt in the air.
He disappeared through a door on the left.
She was wet and quivering on the inside, nipples hard, aching. Her own taste mixed with his lingered on her tongue. For the first time in her life, Trinity thought about getting herself off right here and now because the need in her was so great. It was beyond mere masturbation—which of course she’d done—moving into the realm of near pain.
Trinity wanted him to fuck her. Yes,
fuck
her.
Please, please,
please.
Where had he gone? She squeezed her knees together, not sure how much longer she could stand up.
fuck
her.
Please, please,
please.
Where had he gone? She squeezed her knees together, not sure how much longer she could stand up.
“In here.” In the hall, he stood by the door through which he’d vanished a couple of minutes earlier. Tie gone, his shirt was still buttoned, shoes on his feet, but visible from across the room, his cock strained against his zipper.
Climbing the steps, she wanted to crawl up his body, cling to him, have her way, every way.
She wanted to talk.
Sliding a hand down her back to her naked butt, squeezing, he turned her, guiding her into the room.
It was masculine, the bed covered by a cushy wine-colored comforter, a couple of matching pillows, books on the low cabinet behind the mattress. The bureau and tallboy were of a dark wood. No blinds or curtains in here either, the sliding glass door opened onto the deck, the view of the dark forest beyond. In the center of the bed, he’d laid a plain, no-frills vibrator.
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