I stood in the kitchen, sipping a glass of water. Just me, alone, in my slinky silk robe that I’d purposely left slightly open. I’d thought it was a sure thing, flashing him a few inches of upper thigh, a peek of cleavage, the nape of my neck. But he’d left the room. Out the window, a lush green summer morning bloomed in full effulgence. A small, brown bird twittered on a branch, its song loud and proud despite its modest appearance. I smiled and tipped my glass at him, saluting his spirit.
That was the way to live life, singing loudly on a branch in the sunshine. I felt determined to do that, myself. True, what Lymon had threatened to do to me was awful. Sitting tied in that chair had felt like waking up from a nightmare and finding out it was actually real. Yes, I still had moments where I would recall, unbidden, how Lymon had leered at me, or uttered such menacing threats. I’d see a knife in the kitchen and flinch. Post-traumatic stress. I understood that was a natural part of recovery.
But Declan had rescued me, hadn’t he? He’d arrived just in time, stopping them before they had the chance to do the horrible things they’d said they would. Declan had taken a knife in the back for me, felled the dragons and carried me out in his strong, loving arms.
If I walked around now cowering and quaking, letting shadows and creaks in the house scare me, I knew that meant letting Lymon and the goon win. If they succeeded in making me fearful, I’d never really escape. I wasn’t going to let them do that to me.
The real me, the happy, effervescent woman who enjoyed life and couldn’t wait to find out what was next? I remained untouched and whole. The honest truth was that I was enjoying the hell out of my days with Declan. We’d been staying at the cabin in the resort for a week now and I’d never experienced such lazy, total decadence. In all my life I’d never just done nothing. Sleeping and sleeping some more. Hitting the hot tub. Walking in the woods. Enjoying all of Declan’s kind ministrations, the cups of tea and blankets he brought me even though it was the middle of summer, so sweet, as if keeping me warm would help chase away the lingering pain.
I was starting to realize that I was just fine. I was more than fine. I was truly, deeply, madly head-over-heels in love.
Sometimes I thought he felt exactly the same way. He’d declared it, after all, that night at the ranch. But now he was holding back. I’d catch him watching me, a pained expression on his face. Sometimes he seemed his old self, teasing me and joking around. But then he’d catch himself and stop, as if remembering that he needed to be more careful. Like I was fine, delicate china, the kind you only used on special occasions for fear it would break. I wanted him to use me every day.
I sat down at the kitchen counter and started toying with a brochure laying there. It was something from his company, a glossy portfolio showcasing some of his luxury properties. The kind of thing you’d give a potential client or investor. I traced the letterhead: Obsidian Investors.
He’d named his company after something I’d said one night, a bit of rock I’d found and given to him. I’d teased him that his heart was cold and dark. That had never been true, not then and sure as hell not now. I always knew he had this side to him, romantic, caring, loving. And he’d named his company after something I’d said one night six years ago. I’d been with him all along. The man blew me away.
But he was, literally, blowing me off. How much walking around in a skimpy, silky gown could a girl do before she gave up? At least one more time, that’s how much. And this time, I’d get more direct.
I found Declan in the bedroom sitting in a chair, leaving a message for his lawyer on his phone. I walked around behind him, brought my hands to his shoulders and massaged, kneading my fingers into the hard wall of his muscles.
“Unh,” he groaned, putting his phone down. I loved the sound, the look of him with his eyes closed in pleasure. The feel of him, his massive shoulders, his broad back, had my whole body tingling with anticipation. He felt so tense, as if he’d been holding himself stiff for all of the past week. He needed to unwind.
He turned around and lightly grasped my hands in his own. “I should be massaging you, not the other way around.”
OK, then. I didn’t know if he meant the offer for real or not, but I decided to take him up on it. Smiling at him shyly, I reached up to the tie around my waist and with a pull, unbound the knot. He watched me, heavy-lidded, as if he couldn’t take his eyes off. I brought my hands to my lapels, enjoying this now, feeling his reaction, his need. I drew my fingers down the sides of the robe, down the swell of my breasts. Then I parted the robe and let it drop in a pool of silk at my feet.
He sucked in his breath. I stood there, completely naked, letting him see all of me. His eyes burned with palpable hunger, yet still he sat in the chair, his hands balled into tight fists. He was working so hard to hold himself back. He just needed me to let him know how very much I wanted him to let himself go. A massage, that would be a good excuse for him to touch me. He could justify it to himself as a soothing, healing gesture. I’d just have to seduce him into making it more.
“I’d love a massage,” I murmured, running my hands up and down my arms. My breasts thrust out, completely bare, my nipples peaking for him under his heavy gaze. I could see his jaw set hard, his throat tense as he swallowed.
I lay down on the bed, stomach down, my back, thighs and ass naked and splayed there for his pleasure. He paused and I could almost feel the tension, sense the war waging within him. But then he took a step toward the bed. I smiled into the pillow.
With slow, strong hands he worked me. Taking his time, he rubbed and kneaded every inch of my body, down my arms and along my hands and up to my shoulders. He devoted a long time to my feet. He caressed and stroked and he might have thought he was helping me relax, but really it was driving me wild. Who knew the arch of my foot could feel sexy? That he could run his fingers along it and make me think about how it would feel if it were his tongue? Ankles? Come on, since when did they become an erogenous zone? Yet his hands were so huge, so powerful and calloused and he touched me with such reverence, exploring every inch like I was a work of art. Good as it felt, though, I didn’t want him to just touch my feet. I wanted him to travel right on up my legs with licks and nips and sucks.
But he didn’t. He kept using just his hands, and moved up to my back where he spent a lot of time digging in by my shoulder blades and pressing along the sides of my spine. The sound of his breathing alone turned me on, his exhales, the occasional grunt in the back of his throat as he stroked me. I sighed in response, wanting more, letting him know how much I was enjoying his touch. As he worked his way down my back, stroking the small of it, the dip right before the swell of my buttocks, I let out a moan. Long and low, there could be no mistaking what it meant. I was wet and ready. I wanted him so much, I throbbed and ached and couldn’t take much more of the massage. He needed to stop holding back.
But still, he worked his hands down my lower legs. He rubbed my hamstrings. I couldn’t help it, I started squirming a little, pressing my hips into the bed. I needed more friction, more sensation against my swollen clit. As his hands touched the backs of my knees, I remembered how he’d spanked me. The feel of his large, rough hand on my ass. The shock and the sting, followed by his soothing caress, just like how he touched my legs now. I was so slick and hot. He must be able to tell how much I wanted him, how much I was fantasizing right now about him taking me over his knee and spanking me, hard, then stroking, then licking. And, oh, his thick cock, how it felt when he took me, when he parted my thighs and plunged into me. I could almost come just thinking about him stretching me so wide and filling me so deep.
He pulled away. Just as I was panting, wriggling, and moaning under his touch. He cursed under his breath.
The man had a will of steel. Good thing I did, too. I turned to see him heading for the bathroom. His cock stood out long, hard and full, pressing urgently against the crotch of his jeans. Oh, Declan. Didn’t he know that cock was for me?
He was at the door whe
n my voice halted him. “Declan, I’m going to slip into the hot tub. Why don’t you join me?”
He closed his eyes, his hand frozen on the doorknob. A smile crept over my face. I had him now. I stood up, completely naked, my sex slick and throbbing for him, my nipples swollen and peaked for him to taste. As I started walking, slowly, he opened his eyes, feasting on me. I walked right past him over to the private patio off the master suite. A huge, steaming hot tub stood there waiting for us, outdoors but completely enclosed and private.
I eased into it, in no hurry, my movements fluid and luxurious. Then I looked up at him, half submerged, my breasts still rising out of the steam. “Come with me.”
That was it. He stripped down in seconds flat, watching me the whole time. His cock sprang free, huge and engorged and I couldn’t take my eyes off of it. The veins surging along its length, the thick crown with a glistening drop of pre-come. I couldn’t wait to touch it, taste it, ride it all night long.
He slipped into the tub and I was on him in a heartbeat, kissing him full and hot on the lips, jaw, throat, anywhere I could get at him. My hands roamed his body, feverish, touching where before I’d been looking. He groaned as I clasped my palms around his cock in the steamy water and began to stroke.
“Kara.” He stilled my hands, his voice sounding strained. “Let me love you. Let me make you feel good. I want to take care of you.”
A girl couldn’t say no to that. Hands to my waist, Declan lifted me up to the top step of the tub. My bottom resting in shallow water, my legs still soaked in the hot, massaging bubbles, but my breasts were out on erotic display. I looked at him with glazed eyes, leaning back on my elbows.
“You taste so good,” he murmured as he dipped his head down to lick me. I moaned and spread my legs open, dying for him. “I’ll never get enough of you.” With his strong hands he lifted me to his mouth and licked me full and long. He groaned as he did it as if he’d never tasted anything so sweet. He spread my juices along my sex, flicked at my clit with his tongue, then plunged into me deep. I moaned and pressed against him, wanting more.
I began to move against his face, pushing my pussy into him, growing needier, hungrier. I whined as he ate me, so close so fast. He groaned in primal satisfaction, digging his large fingers into my ass as he ground his face into my sex.
I needed to come. I’d been so horny the past few days, so turned on but untouched. I fisted my hands in his hair and shoved my sex into his face, needing, demanding. He groaned into me and I threw my head back at the vibrations, starting to pant and moan as he worked me in a faster rhythm, licking and sucking and tongue-fucking my pussy. My need about to spill over into orgasm, I quivered and tensed. He sensed it, always so in tune with my every response. Exactly when I felt like I’d scream if I didn’t come, he bit down on my clit and sucked, hard. I shuddered and bucked under him, screaming out his name as the waves crashed over me, engulfing me in intense pleasure over and over again.
Rosy and pink, I drifted back to reality, slowly lowering my body into the hot tub. He sat next to me on a shallow step, watching my every move, looking like a lion satisfied with his meal. I rose up and circled my arms around his neck, smiling and feeling slightly mischievous.
“That was good, Declan,” I purred. I could feel his cock still hard as a rock against my thigh. But still he sat back, not driving into me, not taking me the way I needed.
“Anything for you, Kara.”