‘I told you. I’m the descendant of all those gloomy people whose portraits hang on the walls out there.’ He jerks his chin towards the open doorway. ‘But the real question is – who are you?’
His eyes sparkle again with something like mischief. It makes my flesh tingle and I press my thighs together. He may be wrapped up in fancy dress, but the outfit is well tailored, accentuating a lean, fit torso and strong arms. Arms that could crush me to his muscular chest or pin me down on a soft bed.
‘My name’s Jess,’ I manage to say. ‘Jess Bannion.’ I hadn’t dared to hope he would recognise the name, so I’m not disappointed when he doesn’t respond like a fanboy. My readership is mostly female anyway. Or so I console myself.
‘Well, it’s nice to meet you,’ he says, ‘even if you are trespassing.’
‘But I’m not! Honestly! There was an ad online for booking this place for the weekend.’
‘That’s what you say.’
‘It’s the truth!’ Even as I insist I’m in the right, I realise it doesn’t matter. If I’d broken in like a criminal it would have been worth it to meet him. I imagine he’ll be the star of all my masturbation fantasies from now on. He can call the cops and send me to jail, I don’t care. Just as long as he fucks me first.
It’s as though I’ve broadcast the image to him. His eyes narrow, he smiles, and suddenly the rogue is back. My eyes flick down to his crotch, where a pleasing bulge is growing. He notices me noticing, but maddeningly says nothing.
I just want him to grab me and throw me to the floor, tear off my clothes and have his wicked way with me. Or tell me off for trespassing and haul me across his knee. Can he not read the signs? Is my desperation not coming off me in waves? I haven’t been fucked in so long.
When I finally accept that he isn’t going to make the first move, I sta
re pointedly at his erection and then I boldly reach out and press my hand up against it.
He closes his eyes with a little sigh of pleasure, but he doesn’t seem shocked or surprised. Well, I’m hardly making a secret of my desire. If he can’t tell I’m wildly turned on, he’s the most clueless man who ever lived.
He responds by pulling me into a fierce embrace and crushing his lips to mine. I gasp as I clutch his hardness, groping to find my way inside his trousers to get at him. But he stops me, gathering me up in his arms and carrying me out of the room as though I weigh nothing. I wrap my arms around his neck as he takes me along the corridor and into a richly furnished bedroom, where there are no cobwebs in sight. A fire crackles in the hearth below an elaborate marble surround. It’s as though he’s been expecting me.
My eyes widen as I take in the exquisite decadence of the room. Heavy damask curtains decorate both the gothic-arched windows and the enormous four-poster bed. On either side of it are two beautifully carved nightstands, and a matching dressing table dominates the far side of the room.
I feel so out of place in my jeans and jumper and I can’t help but imagine myself dressed to match him, in a flowing gown with a tight-fitting bodice, one that makes my bosom heave. Now I know why all those romance heroines are always swooning.
He sets me on my feet and steps back to remove his jacket and lay it over a velvet ottoman. I stand there, nervous and bewildered, excited and eager. I don’t know what to do with my hands and they flutter between my throat and my thighs like restless birds, refusing to light anywhere. His little striptease doesn’t take long. He slowly unbuttons an old-fashioned white shirt with a starched collar, but leaves it hanging open, offering me only tantalising glimpses of his killer abs as he kicks off his shoes, removes his socks and unfastens his trousers. He is wearing nothing underneath and my breath catches as his cock springs free.
I want to tell him he’s beautiful, that he’s the most beautiful man I’ve ever seen, but I just can’t form the words. All I can do is stare as he moves towards me. I stand there meekly, submissively, as he pulls my boring jumper off over my head, revealing the lacy black push-up bra I wear to make myself feel sexy when I write. He makes a little sound of approval as he traces a finger over the swell of my breasts before trailing it down to my jeans, to unfasten them and expose the matching panties. They’re positively soaked.
My hands finally come to life and I peel his shirt off and stroke the warm, firm ridges of his chest. He reaches behind me to unhook my bra, and my nipples harden instantly as he takes my breasts in his hands and squeezes them firmly. By the time he slips my knickers off, I’m incapable of standing and I sink gratefully onto the bed, writhing obscenely before him like a slave girl desperate to please her master.
He lowers his body onto mine and I clutch his back as he kisses a line down my throat to my chest. I trap his cock between my thighs, squeezing it as I wriggle against it. I feel it twitch and grow harder in response. I want him inside me. Every inch of my flesh is crying out for contact with his.
But Christopher has other ideas.
I release a little moan of dismay as he pushes away and gets to his feet again. He looks down at me, still with that wolfish grin. It makes my sex pound.
‘Come back,’ I whimper, rising up slightly.
He places a finger against my lips and pushes me back down with the other hand. ‘First we have to deal with the little matter of your trespassing.’
I close my eyes as my stomach takes a roller-coaster plunge. My thighs press together, sending a little surge of pleasure through my clit.
I must have murmured something that sounded like a question because he’s suddenly standing over me again, peering down solemnly. ‘I don’t think that can go unpunished. Do you?’
I squirm, blushing furiously as I struggle with the idea that he’s sprung straight from my fantasies.
‘No,’ I whisper at last.
His eyebrows go up. ‘No? No what?’
Another powerful jolt of pleasure surges through me. ‘No, sir.’
He smiles. ‘Good girl.’