Show Me The Ropes ~ Lothario Series ~ Book 2 (9 page)

“I’ve never tasted anything so sweet in my life. Do you want me to remove the other clamp?”

“Yes, Richard.” He had to strain to hear her faint whisper.

When he was done, he fastened her sarong and signaled for the discreet waiter to bring their dinner. He ate heartily and encouraged Fallon to do the same.

“You’ll need your strength for the massage.”

* * * * *

Fallon chewed and swallowed. Flavors burst on her taste buds like never before. Everything seemed more vivid the last few days. It could be she was taking the time to notice details, or it could be that being with Richard made her feel alive. The leash lay across her forearm, a visual reminder that she’d given Richard permission to do as he pleased with her body. Said body hummed with arousal as she dutifully sliced another bite of chicken and brought it to her mouth. Her nipples throbbed, small pulse points straining for his attention.

What manner of man was Richard Wolfe? She’d thought she knew him, but the last few days had disabused her of the thought. A few days ago, she’d thought she knew herself as well, but that too had changed. She had changed. For years she’d worked to become an expert in her field, had achieved every goal she’d set. But in her quest for knowledge and recognition, she had ignored her own sexuality. She’d ignored her heart. She hadn’t really lived.

She cast a glance at Richard, who sat next to her in the booth. Everything about him called to her, had since the first time she’d met him, but she’d kept her distance for a variety of very good, very logical reasons.

He was her employer. There wasn’t any way to get around that argument. However, was he the playboy she’d convinced herself he was? She thought back over the last year, perhaps longer. She’d seen him with any number of women, but now that she thought about it, she’d never seen him look at any of them the way he looked at her, as if she held the key to his prison cell.

So far, he had done nothing but see to her pleasure, had asked her for nothing, totally out of character for the man she believed him to be. Questions outnumbered answers.

Richard plied her with dessert, but when he tugged on the leash, she left her half-eaten portion and followed him. Thor met them at the check-in desk and led them to the room he said was set up just for them.

“I’ll wait out here until you’re ready,” Richard said. He handed the end of her leash to Thor and seated himself on one of the plush chairs in the waiting area. “Go with Thor.”

“Yes, Richard.” She didn’t want to be separated from him, not while she was wearing the leash. It felt wrong for someone else to have that authority over her, but Richard had commanded it, so she complied. She stepped into the room and her breath caught in her lungs. Electric candles, the only safe kind on a cruise ship, provided the only illumination and cast a warm glow over the opulent furnishings. “It’s lovely,” she breathed.

“Richard requested it.” Thor motioned to the massage table in the center of the room. “If you will lie on your back I will prepare you for the massage.”

Thor’s thick Norwegian accent sent shivers all the way to her toes. She’d heard Thor speak many times, but never in this low, seductive manner. No wonder he was such a favorite with the passengers.

Fallon lay back on the table and shifted to get comfortable.

Thor took her hand and placed a loop of satin across her palm. “This is your anchor. Richard did not want to bind you, but he wanted you to have something to hold to, if you feel the need.” He slipped another one over her other hand. She tested the anchors and found them to be sturdy. “Good?”

“Yes.”

“Now, for your neck. . . . ”

He placed a soft brace beneath her neck and cradled her head in a horseshoe shaped pillow. “Now the blindfold.”

“Blindfold?”

“Trust me, Fallon. This massage will be like nothing you have ever experienced.”

It was already that, and they hadn’t even begun. She tried to relax as Thor slipped the blindfold over her eyes, shutting out even the soft candlelight.

“One last thing. Before we go any further, I must warn you. I am going to put headphones on you. The music will relax you. Let yourself go, Fallon. Trust Richard. I will be here to give him instruction, but only he will touch you once we begin. Forget I am here. Forget everything but Richard, and how his touch makes you feel.”

“I’ll try.”

“Good girl. You have a safe word?”

She shook her head as best she could against the confining pillow. “Yes, stop.”

Thor laughed. “Clever. Use it if you must. I’m going to put the headphones on and then I will remove your sarong. Then I will invite Richard in. Are you ready?”

“Yes.” Oh God, what had she agreed to? Thor adjusted the sound muffling headset over her ears. Soft music floated through her brain like sound on the wind. She jumped when Thor’s fingers brushed against her chest, opening the clasp on her sarong. The room was warm, but felt cool against her heated skin, now exposed to his gaze. What must he think of the ropes?

 In her dark cocoon, deprived of light and sound, she could only feel. Time seemed irrelevant as she waited for Richard. Was it minutes? An hour? She couldn’t tell. She felt the air stir as Thor moved about the room. Slowly her body calmed, lulled by the music, the darkness.

Hands slid along her leg, down to her ankle and over the arch of her foot. She sighed as strong fingers pressed and smoothed along muscles she’d thought relaxed. Richard’s hands. Warm. Strong. Competent. She inhaled deeply, the sweet scent of roses, her favorite, washed through her. Lovely. Her mind floated free on a sensory wave. Deprived of sight, she conjured her own images. She saw Richard’s hands, his long fingers caressing her skin, sliding along her leg, her arms, along the column of her neck.

The satin bands lay lax across her palms, a fleeting thought crossed her mind. Why did Richard want her to have them? No sooner had the thought come and gone, she knew the answer. She arched her back and gripped the bands for purchase as ice shocked her nipples into hard pebbles. A firm hand on her stomach urged her to settle and accept. She relaxed, focusing on the pleasure. The pain receded as quickly as it had come. Another image formed,  her distended nipples, cold as cherry popsicles, craving the warmth of Richard’s mouth.

Instead of his mouth, clamps, heated, hard, unforgiving. She sucked in a ragged breath and once again Richard’s open palm flattened against her stomach. His fingers caressed and soothed, until she once again relaxed and let the pleasure override the pain. A kaleidoscope of images flashed through her mind. Vivid colors, sharp, jagged fragments of colored light, disjointed at first, they coalesced into a solid image—Richard’s eyes fixed on her nipples, dark pools of desire as he toyed with her, pleasured her.

Heated blood rushed to the clamped rubies and as heat replaced the cold, she felt the bite of the clamps. Richard’s fingers closed around her breasts, cradled her fullness in his palms. He kneaded her until all she felt was pleasure and a desire so deep she had to fight the need to beg. Her body relaxed against the table, accepting Richard’s mastery, awaiting his next assault on her senses.

She didn’t have long to wait. A heated towel dropped over her from neck to crotch. The gold ropes absorbed and magnified the heat, transferring it to her skin. She pulled against the satin bands. Like stepping into a too hot bath, the towel cooled quickly, only to be replaced by another one. Richard’s fingers moved to her thighs, rolling and kneading the tight muscles there, drawing her thoughts away from the heated towel draped over her. His hand slid under her knee and she had no muscles left with which to protest as he lifted her leg, then the other, and spread her wide.

Those long fingers worked her clit, circled, pressed, inflamed. He stopped long enough to replace the heated towel with an ice-cold one. Her thighs quivered as she tried to hold them up and open as Richard had left them. She lost the battle and her heels slid on the sheet. Richard slid an arm under her knees, brought them back up, and urged her to open for him. Just as she relaxed her thighs, he pressed a steaming towel between her legs and clamped them shut over it. Fire and Ice. She shivered and clutched desperately at the satin bands.

With one arm wrapped beneath her thighs, Richard used his free hand to massage and sooth. His fingers trailed across her stomach and up, over her ribcage to her breasts. He caressed each one in turn. Her senses reeled at the onslaught of tactile stimuli. Unable to form a coherent protest, she submitted. Each new touch, each new sensation shocked, then delighted. She willed her body to relax again, knowing when she did Richard would be ready with yet another sensation for her. An image lodged in her mind. Richard’s face overcome with arousal, pleased with her responses,desiring only her. If only. . . .

Her mind drifted on the wave of desire his touch brought. He relaxed his grip on her thighs and guided them open, to rest against the table. Richard’s hand replaced the heated towel, stroking, sliding along her folds now dripping with her need for him. She clutched the satin loops in her fists as his fingers probed her swollen folds, dipped into her channel, and massaged her to a frenzy of need. Her hips bucked against his hand, seeking, pleading for the release only he could provide.

His hot fingers twisted and plunged. His knuckles scraped against her inflamed tissue.

“Richard.” She cried his name when he pulled his fingers from her.

Another steaming one replaced the ice-cold towel over her torso. Her breath caught in her throat. As she sucked in another breath, filling her lungs with the heavenly rose-scented air, Richard’s fingers returned to her molten core. She raised her hips to meet his thrust and met, not with his heated hand, but with a solid block of ice. Richard parted her and speared her with a cock of ice, sweeping her legs together to hold the frozen invader in place.

His mouth came down on her clit and she was lost. Her pussy clenched over the frigid phallus impaling her. She screamed into the silent room as the orgasm shook her to her core. Hot and cold. Fire and ice. Blood pumped to her clamped nipples. She thrashed against her gentle restraints. Suddenly, Richard was beside her, his full length pressed against hers. He released her nipples and his hand cupped her swollen mound.

His hand left her and she was mortified at the whimper she felt leave her throat. He removed the headset and blindfold, and after trailing his hand gently over her face, returned it to her throbbing mound.

“Shhh. There, now.” He slipped the now empty condom from her and tossed it in the general direction of the wastebasket.

“It’s over. Are you alright?” He draped one leg over hers, the anchor she needed.

“Yes. Oh God, Richard.” She closed her eyes as she remembered the incredible sensations he’d provided.

“You were magnificent.”

“I. . . . ”

He kissed her, long and sweet and drugging. “Sleep now. We have this room as long as we want it. I’ll hold you.”

She fell asleep wrapped in his arms, the one place she knew she would always want to be.

* * * * *

He was going to hell. No, he was in hell. No doubt about it. Loving this woman made him crazy, made him do things he knew were depraved, but he couldn’t help himself. She responded to everything he did with innocent abandon. As he listened to her breathing even out, and held her trusting soul in his arms, he cursed himself for the insensitive, depraved bastard he was. How could he expect her to reciprocate his love when he took advantage of her over and over again?

She burrowed closer and he buried his face in her hair. Golden blonde strands picked up the faint light in the room, making a halo around her head. He didn’t deserve her trust. She might have a Ph.D., but she was nothing more than a babe in the woods to his big bad wolf. She had an education he much admired. In fact, if she’d been short on brains, she never would have captured his attention. He’d had his fill of brainless twits and gold-diggers. A woman who knew her own mind, and could carry on an intelligent conversation, was a turn-on, pure and simple.

Careful not to wake her, he slid his fingers to the key around her neck and released it. All three locks slid open, and he gently peeled the ropes from her. Tiny indentations and pink lines criss-crossed her body, left from the heated towels lying on the ropes. He rolled her to her back and slid the last of the ropes from her. She moaned in her sleep and curled back against him.

Mine.

The single word echoed through his brain.

Mine.

He knew he should apologize for marking her, and he probably would, but something inside him shifted the moment he saw the impressions on her skin. She lay curled into him, trusting beyond anything he could ever have expected, beyond anything he deserved.

Mine.