“For you, I’ll be a drug.” She lowered her voice, struggling to control her breathing, the harsh beat of her heart. “One you’ll only become more addicted to each time you experience it. Because that’s what you are to me, Ian. A drug. Addictive. I can’t get you out of my mind, nor my heart…”
“It’s a crush, Courtney,” he whispered gently then, moving across the room slowly, his expression so tender it made her want to weep. “An immature obsession.”
There it was. In the only way he could allow himself to feel anything for her. As though she were a child in need of a pat on the head.
“Oh, get over yourself, Ian.” She tried to whirl away from him. She couldn’t allow him to touch her, not now, not while he was trying to convince himself she was still a child. “I’ve never had a crush on you…”
“You’ve always had a crush on me.” The confidence in his voice raked over her patience. “When you were sixteen, you watched me as though I were a god.”
“When I was sixteen, I would sneak into the closet of your bedroom and watch you and my bodyguard fuck my maid,” she informed him blithely. “I’ve done this for the past several years, Ian. I’m tired of watching.”
He hid his shock well. He merely stared back at her, unblinking, his eyes nearly black as hunger flared within them.
“You watched?”
“Oh yes, indeed I did,” she assured him. “And each time I watched your cock pleasuring another woman I knew what I wanted. Who I wanted. I’m not a fool. And I’m not too homely to attract enough attention to keep my bed filled if this is what I want. I didn’t have to come to you. I could have stayed in England and fucked until hell froze over. But I came here, to you.”
His jaw clenched.
“You’re a fool, Courtney.”
“And I agree with you, wholeheartedly,” she bit out, moving across the room before turning back to face him. “I should just pack my bags and head home. I’m certain I could get fucked just easily there as I can in your bed. Hell, easier. And with just as little emotion.”
He pushed his fingers roughly through his thick hair, glaring back at her.
“You’re pushing me, baby. So help me, you are. And God knows I don’t want to hurt you.”
But he was excited. She could see it in his eyes, in the bulge of his pants. He was so excited by the thought of taking her, taming her, that he could barely control it.
She had lost control months, years before.
“Are you certain you don’t feel a need to hurt me, Ian?” she asked him then.
“I feel a need to spank your ass until it glows,” he finally growled, his hands fisting as he pushed them into the pockets of his slacks.
She let her eyelids lower, let her own hunger flow from her as the ass in question began to tingle.
“Spank me,” she whispered then. “I bet you’ve imagined it, Ian. Putting me over your knee, and spanking my bare ass as I beg you prettily not to. Shall I call you Uncle Ian as I do so? Have you ever imagined that? Please, Uncle Ian, don’t spank me.”
She was tempting him, taunting him, and she knew it. She could possibly be pushing him past a boundary that she was perhaps not ready for quite yet. But she couldn’t seem to stop herself.
A firestorm erupted in his body, through his senses.
Please, Uncle Ian, don’t spank me.
The words should have disgusted him. But they turned him on, made his lust burn higher, hotter than ever before. He could feel his cock pressing against his slacks, fighting for freedom as his gaze locked on her all too innocent expression. Sweet, pure, her face, her eyes, reflected the wonder of a fucking teenager. But that was not the body of a teenager. The full, swollen breasts, their hard tips pressing against the dark blue silk, pleading for his touch. That was a woman’s body. A woman’s response.
A woman who liked to play very dangerous games.
He moved toward her. A step. Two.
But the innocence was still there.
God help them both if she was a virgin.
“You want to play games, sweetheart.” He kept his voice low, just barely affectionate.
“I like playing games, Uncle Ian.” She blinked innocently as she licked her lips in anticipation. “Are you going to teach me some new ones?”
He reached out, smoothing her hair back behind her shoulders.
“Such long, pretty hair,” he whispered, rubbing the strands between his fingers and luxuriating in its silken texture before he gripped a thick swath, holding it in his fist as he pulled her head back slowly.
She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling sharply as her dark eyes began to daze. A flush brightened her cheeks as her lips parted almost pleadingly, her eyelids lowering with drowsy sensuality.
He lowered his head, tasting the honey sweetness of those lips. They parted further for him, a whispered moan breathed against his as he caught her lower lip, licking at it sensually.
“Such a bad girl,” he whispered against the curves, watching her eyes closer, the dilation of her pupils, the sensual, sexual greed that filled them.
But she was on overload. He could see it in her eyes, her response, hear it in the breathy little cries that left her lips. She thought herself so adept at hiding how innocent she truly was, that he would never know the difference. But he knew. And it broke his heart.
“I could be.” She smiled as she answered, her hands braced against his abdomen, her fingers curling into the warmth she found there. “I can be a very bad girl if you want me to be, Ian.”
Want? That was a rather mild term for what he was feeling right now.
He could feel his balls knotting with overwhelming need, his cock throbbing, engorged with a hunger that swept through every portion of his body. Before he could consider his own actions, before she had time to protest, he used the grip he had on her hair to hold her to him as he turned her quickly around, pushing her last few steps to the wall, pressing her against it.
Her gasping little moan was nearly his undoing. Her response to him, uninhibited without the usual rituals of weakening a woman’s defenses, was addictive. She was pliant, her responses unplanned, unrehearsed. Her pleasure, no matter how he touched her, astounded him.
He smoothed his hand over her buttock, feeling the muscles clench in response. She was naked beneath the dark silk and he knew it, knew it and wanted nothing more than to taste it, to drown himself in her response.
The silk moved along her flesh, creating a cool barrier between his hand and her flesh as he smoothed his fingers over her buttocks. Reaching the hem, he began to lift it slowly, his head lowering until his lips rested against her ear.
“How wet are you, Courtney?” He nearly flinched at the rough, ragged sound of his own voice. “How much does the thought of learning my games turn you on?”
He pressed his fingers between her thighs, groaning at the hot, slick dampness he found there. There were no shielding curls surrounding the swollen flesh. Only the blistering sweet juices coating sensitive folds.
She jerked in his arms as his fingers circled the small entrance to her pussy. The wet heat scorched his fingers as he gathered it around them, sliding back, his touch light, teasing as he then circled the tight, closed entrance to her anus.
“Are you a virgin here, Courtney?” He shuddered himself at the thought. “This virginity I could easily take.”
She was panting, mewling cries exiting her throat as he pressed against the flexing muscles.
“Talk to me, Courtney,” he crooned at her ear as he worked his fingertip into the ultra-hot entrance. “Do you feel how tight you are there, baby? How hot? Imagine how my dick is going to feel, pressing into it, filling it.”
She had never been taken there. He could sense it, feel it. The opening rippled around his fingertip like the flutter of tiny birds’ wings. She had no idea how to relax, how to open for him.
He grimaced tightly. She would scream when he took her there. Her head would fall back, her eyes would widen, daze, and she would beg. Beg because the pleasure and the pain would fight for supremacy and send her hurling through sensations she could never imagine otherwise.