He is so still he looks frozen, not a single muscle moving, watching me like a tiger might watch a particularly plump gazelle. I have spent the last thirty-five minutes pranced around in front of him buck-ass naked trying to entice him into portfolio changes.
What the hell is wrong with me?
I feel the ridiculous grin that spreads full across my face, but I am utterly unable to stop it.
"Feel better?" He asks as I exhale loudly and plop back, relieved, into the chair opposite of him.
"Yes, actually I do." I beam.
"Good. Now come over here."
"Why?" I smile lasciviously. I have my suspicions.
"Because, watching you walk around here in nothing but that necklace is driving me mad."
I raise the pendant from my skin to get a closer look at it. The tarnished gold makes it appear ancient even if it's not. The medallion is shaped like an old battle shield with a Celtic knot worked into the edges encasing a strange hobbit-ish creature that carried an emerald in its paws. The same emerald chips are positioned to make up the eyes.
"What is your attraction to my necklace?" I tease, but I still go to him.
"Do you know what it is?"
"Yeah, it's a necklace." I smile knowing that's not what he means, "My mother gave it to me as a gift, and I thought it looked cool. What is it?"
"It's a family crest so to speak. In the old days, influential families had family crest. They would use the crest to acknowledge their territory or as a summons to aid in battle, even to mark a relation to each other. I like it on you. It looks good and fits you well."
"I think you know more than you're telling me." I narrow my eyes at him.
"Perhaps." He smirks. The way he crossed his arms, leaning back arrogantly in his chair to look down his nose at me told me I would only know as much as he was willing to tell me. He grins that cocky, I-can't-lose-grin and part of me wants to smack him for it.
"Do you always get your way?" I coo playfully, batting at his hand when he reaches for me. The grin fades and is replaced by a seriousness that has my red flags waving like parade day.
"Yes." He draws the word out on a hiss as he reaches for me, catching my wrist and pulling me the remaining few feet to stand between his legs. He lets go of my wrist to stand.
Our bodies are less than an inch apart, and he's looking down into my face like I'm something fascinating that he can't quite figure out. It's a heady feeling, and I like being his new found mystery much more than I should.
"Come to the bedroom with me."
"Maybe I shouldn't it is getting kind of late or um, early. I should probably go."
I nod towards the light that has started to creep through the east side window. He looks, following my gaze, and then rounds back to me. A devious smile in place that tells me he has no intentions of letting me leave until he's good and ready.
His hands gather my face, palms resting on either side of my cheeks, his eyes turning darker as his pupils dilate. He pauses for just a moment, just enough to build the anticipation inside me, before his mouth finds mine.
I gave in to the seductive request, opening for him. He tilts my head, deepening the kiss, holding me tighter as his lips cover mine, his tongue seeking, caressing, retreating to draw me in, and then invading all over again.
"It sure sounded like you've been having a good time so far. Why are you in such a hurry to leave?" He whispers breaking the kiss to hold us forehead to forehead. "I'll make sure you wake up for where ever you need to be."
There is a quiet resistance between us, and he lets go of my face to reach down and take my hand, pulling it up to lay against the hard muscle of his bare chest, covering my hand with his own. He leans into me slowly, beguiling, as he brushes his lips sensually against mine. He pulls back only far enough to speak, his lips brushing mine with each word.
"Touch me. Let me touch you."
I move both hands down the contours of his chest and stomach intoxicated by the way his skin ripples against my fingertips.
There is no resisting his sexual appeal; the soft brush of dark hair that divides his pecs, the ridges of his abdomen, even the soft intake of breath he makes every time my hand drops lower across his stomach. There is nothing about this man that doesn't excite me.
He catches my hands as I reach to take his now fully erect cock in my hand. He entwines our fingers and uses the connection to tug me in the direction he wants. He stops only once we are inside the bedroom; pulling me to him, lifting my chin, taking my lips into a slow, enticing, seducing kiss. A kiss that is meant to draw someone in, to make them feel things that go so far beyond just amazing sexual chemistry.
His hands are reverent in their exploration of my body; slow, exquisite touches, soft breathes, feather light kisses, a titillating trace of fingers and tongue. I pull back from him needing to see his face, needing to see his response. His eyes are filled with a craving that borders on obsession tinged with a strange combination of astonished awe.
It's a peculiar expression. As if watching someone at the moment they fall in love with you, not in love, but still falling. That indefinable split second before they hit bottom and realize what has happened and that it's all too late to change it. It causes my breath to catch in my throat, my pulse to pound loudly in my ears, and a growing fear to resonate through me of what he is seeing mirrored back at him within my expression.
Then he smiles at me, just the smallest bit, just the corners of his mouth turning up. He was beautiful before, but now he is beyond my capacity for speech, and I choke on the misguided attempts of my tongue. There are not enough letters in the English language or ways to string them together that will do him justice. I can't seem to do anything but stare up at him.
He takes his time steering me backward until my legs hit the side of the bed.
"Lay down for me." He smooth's a piece of hair away from my face as he pushes ever so slightly on my shoulders in the direction he desires. I lean back, and he manages to keep the few inches of distance between us as his body follows mine onto the bed, positioning himself between my legs. I find his eyes as they rise up from looking down our bodies. I smile tentatively and brush a sweet, soft kiss along the corners of his lips.
"Jesus, Danielle, tell me you feel this." he whispers as he slowly pushes into me, his eyes never leaving mine.
Each movement, each thrust and retreat, each breath, each sound, each word, they all build to make me crazy with lust yet strangely leaves me feeling cared for. I feel like I am something precious, someone he adores. I don't know him yet I feel like I have for a lifetime, and I know these are feelings he is questioning and not the physical act.
"Yes." I breath shutting my eyes while trying to get some distance from the all the crazy things he is making me feel both sensually and emotionally. These feelings are dangerous. He is a slippery slope, and I know this even as I revel in him. People spend their whole lives waiting to feel like this. This man is a stranger to me. I don't know him, and it scares the hell out of me that someone I know so little about can make me feel so much; strong and reckless one moment and crushingly tender the next.
He adorns kisses down my neck, whispering sweet things, hot things, in my ear as his pace and control begins to falter.
I cling to him, clawing at his shoulders, screaming curses and begging in whispers as he pushes both of our bodies forward with the force of his thrust. Both of us lost, abandoned to the sensation of being tangled up in each other, him inside me, me surrounding him.
His breath is hot on my neck. His words are dirty and exhilarating; spoken in that scotch soaked heat that makes my body capitulate with the mastery in the way he fucks me; pumping relentlessly in and out of me, building a maddening pressure with every movement through me.
He is all heat, and friction, pressure, and release, almost too much, but not enough at the same time. I whimper, and squirm, trying to get closer, or further away, I don't know which nor do I care. All I know is this, I need something, anything that would be enough to push me over the edge with him.
I feel his whole body tighten, his rhythm stuttering, his hand snaking into my hair, pulling my head back, as he growls, thrusting home, and he sinks his teeth into my shoulder.
