When I'm With You: The Complete Novel (26 page)

She whimpered, but he never broke their torrid kiss as he lifted her. Her legs wrapped around his waist, her hands went to the side of his head, furrowing her fingers through his thick hair and molding it greedily into her palms, inhaling his spicy scent, so hungry, so desperate to absorb every sensation of him.

A moment later, she blinked in disorientation when he set her down. Her gaze fixed on him. Every muscle in his body was rigid. She glanced downward and saw how full things looked behind the front of his jeans.

“That's just the way you wanted me, isn't that right?” he asked, his voice low, a menacing taunt. She realized he'd carried her over to a fenced-off pen. She'd seen something similar to it in other stables, where the groom hosed off the horses and the vet did examinations.

“Take off all your clothes,” he said.

“But . . . do I have to?” she asked, glancing around the open area of the stables. His only reply was a fiery
what do you think?
glance. “What if the groom comes?”

“You should have thought of that before you climbed on Jax and pushed both of us to the brink, shouldn't you have?” he asked quietly through a tight jaw. “Why the hesitation? You must have known all along I'd do this. But you just had to push, didn't you. You just had to grab the reins.” She noticed a flicking movement near his knee. Her gaze sprang to his face when she saw he held a crop. It was made of black leather and looked new in comparison to the worn, supple brown leather one he'd used on Kesara earlier. A flicker of anxiety and arousal spiked through her.

“All right,” she said breathlessly, chin up. “But I'm only letting you do it because it sounds kind of interesting.”

He exhaled a puff of air. His eyes looked crazed. “You nearly got yourself killed so that you could have a little sexual titillation?” She jumped at his sharp question. “God, I'm going to wear you out. Take off those clothes.”

She began to undress hastily, draping the garments over the top rail of the fence. Dozens of horses were awake now, following the noise of their intrusion. It was ridiculous, but she felt self-conscious in front of the animals' gaze. Exposed. And what if the groom did drop in? It was late, true, but not
that
late.

“Do I have to take off my boots, too?” she asked, examining the stable floor. It was made of smooth cement so it could easily be hosed down and was straw-strewn, but it looked clean.

“Completely naked,” he said. Something about the edge of his voice made her glance up. He was staring at her bare breasts. Her nipples pulled tight. She jumped when he popped the leather slapper of the crop against his leg in an impatient gesture. That, and the dangerous glint in his eyes, made her hurry. A moment later, she stood before him nude. His nostrils were flared when she looked into his face, reminding her a little of Jax in a fury.

“Bend over the fence with your hands on the top rail,” he said. She followed his instructions. Somehow she'd been expecting him to say just that. Expecting it . . . dreading it . . . anticipating it. A jolt of mixed excitement and anxiety went through her when he came up beside her. “Hold this between your thighs while I tie you up.”

Elise looked up in confusion when he pressed the slapper of the crop at the top of her thighs, right next to her pussy.

“I . . .
what
?” she sputtered when he applied pressure and the slapper started to slide between her thighs.

“You heard me. Let the crop in, and then clamp your thighs around it. Do
not
let it slide down or drop it. Don't worry, it's clean. I just purchased it. I've decided to use it for riding you instead of a horse,” he added darkly.

Her breath caught at that. She did what he said, bewildered, but instinctively reacting to the hard edge to his tone. After a few seconds of squeezing her thighs tight to hold the crop in place, she started to understand why Lucien had made the request. First of all, she'd had to clamp her legs like a vice to stay on Jax. Her thighs were very tight and sore. They started to burn under the sustained pressure of holding the crop in place.

Second of all, gripping the potential tool of punishment against her pussy felt dirty . . . illicit . . .
good.
Her already sharp excitement mounted. Her clit tingled against the tightly wound leather of the handle. She tightened her thighs to increase the stimulation and winced at the burn of the muscles.

She saw that Lucien had witnessed her grimace.

“Devil,” she accused softly when she saw his almost infinitesimal smile.

“You have yourself to thank for that,” he said as he lifted the leather tether and began to bind her wrists to the rail of the fence. When he'd finished and walked to the side of her, she blushed as she considered how she must look to him, stark naked and bound to a fence in a stable, the black leather crop handle sticking out just beneath her ass.

“How dare you put your life at risk that way?” She heard the distilled anger in his voice.

She twisted her chin, wanting to see his face. What she saw in his eyes made her flinch inwardly. It was as if he considered a threat to her life as a personal affront. He lifted his hand and swung, giving her ass a stinging spank.

“Don't you ever . . . ever . . . ever pull something like that again, Elise,” he seethed, smacking her ass for emphasis as he walked behind her. She strained to see him. Her heart started to pound in her ears when she saw that he was stroking the length of his cock through his jeans, his handsome face tight as he stared at her bound body. “I can't believe you did that. No other man on the polo team can handle Jax—strong, skilled men. What were you thinking?”

“I just can't stand it when you ignore me . . . discount me . . . act like I'm about as interesting as the hay on this floor. I did it to make you notice!”

“Is that what you think?” he bellowed, sounding equally amazed and infuriated. “That I don't notice you? That I could ever
possibly
ignore you when you're near? Or even when you're not? Impossible. I'm as likely to ignore you as I would a fire in the room.” His gray eyes reminded her of a wild, electrical storm when his gaze flashed up to her face. Oh dear. She really had unleashed a tempest.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered.

His expression hardened. “No you're not.” She muffled a cry when he grabbed the handle of the crop. He jerked up slightly on it, firing the aroused nerves of her pussy. Pleasure tore through her.

“Do you like that?” he asked from behind her, his voice tight with lust. He started to move the leather handle back and forth between her thighs, stimulating her pussy. When she didn't answer because she was so overwhelmed by the illicit pleasure he gave her, he peeled back her buttocks and moved the crop deeper against her tissues. She cried out excitedly when the rod buried between her labia and rubbed against her clit. Lucien made a low, rough sound and she realized he could probably see how wet she was.

“Look at that,” he muttered as if to himself. “Your juices are going to season this leather perfectly. You're really making it your own, aren't you?” She moaned uncontrollably. He pulled back on the crop and worked the two-by-three-inch leather slapper between her thighs in a subtle sawing motion.

“Unclamp your legs a little,” he ordered, his voice sounding harsh. Tense. Was he as excited as she was? Her nipples pinched tight at the thought. She did his bidding, parting her thighs and crying out in pleasure when he rubbed the slapper directly on her swollen clit, back and forth, around and around in small circles.

“Lucien.”
The naughtiness of what he was doing spiced her excitement unbearably. She began to bob her hips against the delicious pressure. But then the crop was gone from her hungry pussy.

Smack.

He'd popped her bottom with the slapper. “Oh, it burns,” she said, referring not just to the prickling nerves of her ass but also to the sizzling of her clit between her clamped thighs.

“You deserve it,” he growled, smacking her once more with the crop, mounting her excitement.

“Please, Lucien,” she moaned. Lust had vanquished her pride. An untenable, monstrous ache swelled in her, a clutching fist of desire that needed to be released.

“Don't worry. I told you you'd get what you were asking for,” he grated out. She noticed the crop fall onto the floor.

“Lucien—,” she began, wanting to apologize. She wanted this—she was so hot and tense with desire—but she regretted pushing him. He interrupted her by lifting her. She heard a scraping sound on the hay-strewn floor.

“I need to raise you,” he said from behind her. She gasped when he lifted her with ease, settling her feet on a smooth carton made of hard plastic. When he set her down again, she was elevated by several inches, her bottom closer to the fly of his jeans. Jax whinnied loudly behind them.

Her eyes went wide at what she heard next: the sound of his zipper lowering. Her heart began to race faster than it had when Jax bolted.

“You've tried me enough, Elise.”

He noticed her looking back at him and met her stare. She sensed how aroused he was, how rabid with lust. Sweat sheened his upper lip and his eyes looked wild. His breath was coming raggedly as he hastily worked at the fastenings of his pants and lowered his boxer briefs.

She gasped when he pressed the thick, engorged head of his cock against her entrance. She could feel his heat penetrating into her.
Oh.
She'd never felt a man so rigid with need, so huge . . . so primed. Panic fractured her arousal. What had she been thinking? She couldn't
act
her way through this. She wasn't sure the mechanics of what he was trying to do were even
conceivable.

“I had planned to take you the first time in an exchange of pleasure you would remember forever, but a hard, rough ride here in the stables somehow seems more appropriate. Damn you for always getting your way, Elise,” he said grimly before he held her hip steady with one hand and flexed his hips forcefully, grunting when he went nowhere.

“Spread your thighs,” he ordered tensely.

She opened her legs wider, feeling the cool air of the stables lick at her damp, exposed tissues. The anticipation was unbearable. He widened her vagina with his fingers and pressed the thick, engorged head of his cock into her slit, stretching the delicate tissues. She whimpered.

He held her hips with both hands and drove his cock into her.

She cried out sharply at the abrupt invasion. Pain spiked through her. He froze. She panted for air, blinking the sweat out of her eyes. The pain segued to a burn. She moaned shakily.

“Elise?” Lucien queried from behind her, sounding incredulous. Angry. But she was too distracted to consider his fury.

No . . . it didn't burn after all, she realized as she panted for air, struggling to assimilate the foreign sensation of Lucien's flesh penetrating her own. The quick flash of pain had quickly cooled to a simmering sensation of fullness and pressure. He pried her wide. But was that his heartbeat pulsing along the shaft of his cock directly into her clamping flesh?

Incredible.

She tightened her vaginal muscles experimentally. His groan sounded harsh, disbelieving.

“Elise?” He repeated, louder this time, sounding desperate. “Have you ever?”

“No,” she managed between pants.

“
Merde.
Why . . .” He trailed off, a hard edge to his voice. She couldn't reply. The ability for speech had left her. He moved, sliding his cock in and out of her a scant inch. He leaned down over, until she felt his taut belly expanding and contracting against her back as he struggled for breath . . . for control. It felt so strange to hold him so intimately in her body, his rigid shaft pulsing high inside her, firing nerves she didn't know she possessed. She clenched tighter around him, experimenting with sensation.

He exhaled like his lungs had deflated in an instant.

He tightened his hold on her and flexed his hips. She moaned. “I can't stop it. You feel so fucking good,” he said brokenly.

She gripped the railing and pushed her pussy along his shaft. “I don't want you to stop,” she said, bobbing her bottom against him. “This is what I wanted all along.”

“You're going to get it, then.”

He slid his arm beneath her belly, holding her to him, and began to fuck her.

Her eyes sprang wide, but she saw nothing. Sensation ruled. He drove into her with short, powerful strokes, their skin slapping together in a sharp, staccato rhythm. At first, she experienced discomfort. But then his free hand found its way between her thighs. He rubbed her clit, pressing and circling as if it were a magic button he coaxed and tickled in order to gain full entrance. It worked. A slow, delicious burn grew in her, every pass of his hammering cock making it amplify. Every time he crashed into her, he finished with a tight, upward jab of his cock that increased the pressure on her clit. The sensation of his heavy balls smacking against her outer sex fired her excitement even further, until she bobbed her hips back for each stroke, increasing the pressure . . . taunting him to take more.

* * *

He popped her bottom as she struggled to ride him.
Little hedonist.
God, she was going to kill him. The sharp cracking sound of skin against skin cleared the fog of lust momentarily from his brain. He held her hips with both hands, stilling her, then bumped her ass with his pelvis, fully re-sheathing himself again with force in the paradise of her pussy. She squealed at the impact. The rush of heat around his cock informed him loud and clear, however, how much she liked the demanding stroke.

He raised himself. His shirt stuck to the sweat that rose on his body as he stood there with his cock buried in her. “Hold still,” he insisted roughly when she whimpered and twitched her hips in his hands. He withdrew slightly, wincing as he looked down at his cock.