The Lady Vanishes (17 page)

“Cool. What if someone had a gun to your head?” She removed her hat and ran her fingers through her hair.

“I programmed it to recognize a particular facial expression that means under duress.”

She smiled at him—she stood in his hallway and smiled at him. “Of course you did.”

He grinned at her and tossed his own jacket over the staircase railing. “Come on, there’s food in the library.”

She let him lead her down the hall to the right of the stairs and to his library, where Mrs. Beechum had indeed set out the dinner he’d had sent over from Houston’s. She’d also set out the silver candlesticks that had come with the house, and had built a roaring file in the fireplace. The room smelled of freshly cooked steak, potatoes, mixed winter vegetables, and freshly opened wine from the cellar.

“Wow,” she murmured, “this is nice.”

Milton looked around at the big leather couch, the thick rug in front of the fireplace, and the food set out on his best china. He was glad it was nice, but all he could think about was getting Regina naked and sinking himself inside her.

“Are you hungry?” His voice came out a little too gravelly and he cleared his throat. “I thought you might be.”

She looked at him, and slowly removed her jacket, drawing down the zipper with the utmost care. She could have stolen his wallet, his pants, and the shirt off his back in the time it took for that zipper to descend to the bottom of her jacket.

She shrugged out of it, and was standing in front of him with her nipples pressing against her shirt. The light from the fire flickered over her delicate nose, the perfect sculpture of her lips, and cast deep shadows in the hollow of her throat.

“Or we could eat later,” he suggested, and hoped his tone didn’t sound as desperate as he thought it did.

She threw her jacket on the couch behind her and the slick fabric slid to the floor. When she reached for the bottom of her shirt, he held his breath, hoping that she’d just stand still and let him look at those beautiful breasts in the firelight. She did, drawing off her shirt slowly and tossing it on the ground near his feet like a challenge.

Her beautiful white breasts weren’t big, but they were full, with taut pink tips.

“Touch yourself,” he begged, wanting to see those competent hands cup and rub those nipples. How did she like to be touched?

Ducking her head a little, her lips parted, she did as he asked, cupping the soft round mounds in her hands and squeezing, letting her nipples pop from between her fingers. She pinched them—harder than he would have, hard enough to make them tight little buds that begged for his mouth. Crossing her arms, she cupped her breasts on one forearm, then let the other hand glide down her stomach to the top of her jeans. She unbuttoned them, and Milton lost what little self-control he possessed.

“God,” he gasped, and moved forward, grasping her arm and pulling her in the direction of the fireplace. Once they were on the rug, he went to his knees. She made as if to follow him, like her legs actually wouldn’t hold her up, but he held her still. With infinite precision, he reached up and caressed the tips of her nipples with his thumbs, letting the rough, callused tips abrade the already hard surface to a deep red.

She moaned, arching toward him, but he didn’t stop. He shifted his fingers and pinched her nipples, as hard as she had done, and then rolled them between his fingers. Her knees sagged. “God,” she moaned. “Please.”

He wasn’t sure what she was begging for. For him to suck on them? He’d be happy to, but he wanted her shoes and jeans off first. If he brought her down to his level, he was going to fuck her, and this time, this first time, he wanted her naked and spread out beneath him.

Sliding his hands down her taut belly, enjoying the flutters of her stomach muscles as she breathed quickly, he slid down the zipper of her jeans, and shoved his hands inside, working his fingers between the fabric of her jeans and the satiny surface of her panties. He cupped her ass for one delicious moment, and then began tugging her jeans down her legs. He didn’t stop until her jeans were just above her knees. She tried to spread her legs, but she was trapped, her smooth thighs trembling as he ran his hands along the outside of them, curving them over the backs of her thighs, just barely letting his fingers brush the silky skin between her thighs.

He could smell her arousal and knew that between her legs she would be slick and hot and wet.

He breathed in, fascinated by the feel of her beneath his hands, wanting this moment to last forever. He bent lower and slid one hand between her legs, tucking a finger beneath her panties and knuckling her clit before she could expect it, making her gasp sharply and jerk her hips. Holding her with his free hand, he allowed his fingers to slip and slide over the soft folds, abrading her gently, pleasing her, pleasing himself, before he dipped two fingers inside her swollen, slick entrance and gently, inexorably, spread them apart, stretching and opening her.

“Milton.” She gripped his hair fiercely. “Let me down. Fuck me.”

He shifted his grip on her and rolled, tucking her under him at the same time, and deposited her on her back.

Sitting up, he quickly yanked her boots off her feet and pushed her legs forward so that he could strip her jeans off. Her panties followed, and in less time than it would take him to steal someone’s wallet, he had her naked before him. She was not tall, but her legs were well shaped and lightly muscled from bike riding. The thatch of dark hair between her legs was lush and slightly curly, the way he’d imagined, and he wanted to bury his face in it, let the crisp curls and the salty rich smell of her cover his cheeks and lips.

She wouldn’t stay still, though, she kept reaching for his shirt, attempting to tug it over his head, until he lost patience and stripped it off himself. His jeans he just unbuttoned and shoved partway down his legs. He never wore underwear, so the hard length of him sprang out joyfully, the bulbous tip already wet with fluid that had escaped his control.

“Oh, hell yeah,” she murmured, and reached for him, her dark eyes almost black in the firelight as she gripped him in her fist and sat up, putting her lips to the head and tasting him.

Milton damn near lost it then. Could she be any more perfect? She was forcing him between her lips, pressing him between those plump, perfect petals, and he thought that someone could stab him and he wouldn’t give a shit at the moment, as long as she kept doing that.

She moaned like she was enjoying the taste of him and took him deeper, swirling her tongue around him while her hand tightened on the base of his shaft.

“Oh fuck,” he groaned, and pushed at her shoulders. “I have to fuck you. Lie back.”

She did, laying back on the rug and spreading her legs like a wanton. “Don’t forget the condom,” she whispered, and he blinked. Condom, right. He had one in his pocket. He produced it with a deft move of his fingers, and rolled it onto himself.

He could see the pink of her, open and ready for him, and he mounted her without another thought, using his hand to fit himself inside her, and shoving forward in increments, working his thick length inside her while she gasped and writhed.

“Oh fuck. God, yes.” She was laughing. “It feels so good.”

He knew. He knew. He’d never felt such perfect heat, such delicious tightening around his cock as he moved, slowly at first, just rocking inside her, letting her adjust to his length and girth, working himself inside her. But she kept moaning and twisting. Her legs came around his hips and tightened, trying to draw him closer, so he grabbed her knees and pushed them toward her chest, opening her completely, making her vulnerable to him, and then he fucked her hard, drawing most of the way out and then sliding back inside firmly. In and out, slide and grind. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. He couldn’t come yet.
Hold on, wait till she’s there.
Her skin was flushed, her nipples distended, and he knew it wouldn’t be long. She was close, so close, and then her stomach muscles tightened, and inside, around his cock, he felt a sharp jerk and her muscles began milking him, gripping his cock lovingly.

With a low growl, he lost himself in fucking her, shoving himself in and out, his hips pounding, his cock throbbing as he shoved it inside her again and again until he came in a burst of come that left him feeling shredded and shaken, falling forward to lay his sweaty head next to hers on the rug, his breath coming in rapid gasps.

She wrapped her arms around his back, but then seemed to lose all her energy and let them slide down to fall at her sides.

“Now I’m hungry,” she murmured.

Milton smiled.

REGINA PUSHED MILTON OFF HER
so she could breathe. He went a step further and removed himself from her body, making her gasp as he dragged himself over her soft, swollen tissues.

He made a noise, a cross between a laugh and a gasp, and removed the evidence of their little adventure. He stood, walking away from her to his desk, and threw the condom away. He also seemed to clean himself off with something—perhaps his shirt—and toss it aside.

Regina admired his taut buttocks and toned legs as he walked away from her, thinking idly that a man with an ass that fine should never wear clothing. He turned back to her and caught her looking at him. He didn’t seem to mind. On the contrary, he absently stroked himself as he looked at her, his eyes lingering on her breasts.

Regina watched him for a moment, enjoying the honest lust in his gaze, as he stroked himself. “I think you better feed me before we try that again.” She smiled and sat up.

He glanced behind him, at the dinner that still sat on his desk. The candles had burned down much of the way, but the food still smelled delicious.

“Where would you like to eat?” He gestured at his chair, or on the floor.

Regina smiled. “I think I’d like to stay down here, actually.”

“Can we stay naked?” he asked, and Regina smiled at him.

“Oh, yeah,” Regina agreed. She wasn’t quite done with that cock just yet. She’d never dreamed she could be fucked like that, that she would enjoy it so much. The few times she’d had sex had been hurried couplings with other residents, and a couple times in college, but she’d never been left boneless and sighing, her mind completely overwhelmed by the sheer flood of lust that had run over her.

He grinned. “Awesome. Let me get the plates. You stay there.”

Regina shifted so she was sitting cross-legged, enjoying the decadent feel of the fire on her naked limbs, the weight in her bare breasts as she settled herself and waited for him to return with food for her.

“You lift weights?” she asked, though he didn’t really have the body of a bodybuilder.

He glanced at her, pausing in the act of scooping what looked like vegetables onto her plate. “Yeah, but mostly I run, practice yoga, karate, swimming, biking. Anything, really, to stay in shape.”

“To practice your magic?”

He’d just taken a bite of a roll, but he kind of chuckled around it. “Sort of.” He handed her a plate heaped with food—all of it smelled delicious, better than anything Regina had eaten in a while. Even the restaurant at the Commonwealth hadn’t served anything that looked quite this good.

He went back and grabbed her a napkin and some silverware before making himself a plate. “Only the illusions and the escapes require much in the way of flexibility or extreme strength. I’m no Houdini. Mostly I just like to have fun with it, hence the hospital. No one has more fun than kids.”

Regina took a bite of her own roll and watched him, not disbelieving exactly, but not sure that he realized how intense he was about his magic, how focused he became when he was performing. He worked out every day—he had to for a body like that, though he said it was just for fun. But Regina appreciated the results regardless.

He sat down cross-legged next to her, and cut a piece of steak. “I haven’t been this hungry since I went on a fifty-mile bike ride last summer.”

Regina agreed, chewing her own steak with eye-rolling delight.
Damn.
“You go on many rides?” she asked when she finished chewing.

“Sometimes,” he agreed. “I know you do”—he pointed his fork at her—“even when it’s stupid.”

“Paying for parking in my neighborhood is stupid,” she muttered. “You don’t have to worry about that, do you?”

He shrugged. “Not so much.”

Regina narrowed her eyes a little. She’d had to worry about everything since her father disappeared. “Besides, I like to ride. So don’t judge.”

“What do you like most about it?”

Regina considered her response. “The freedom of it, I think. When I’m riding, it’s like I’m alone and no one can touch me, but I see everything.”

“Yeah,” he agreed, his face thoughtful. “Riding downhill is my favorite. I feel like I’m flying.”

She quirked an eyebrow at him. “Hit some black ice and you will go flying.”

“Unlike some lunatics, I rarely ride in winter.” He paused and seemed to be looking around for something. “I forgot the wine. Hang on.”

The wine was already open on the table, so he quickly poured two glasses and carried them back to her. “For my lady’s pleasure.”