The Pleasure Slave Page 21

  "Yes," she answered breathlessly. "Only if you come with me."

  His fingers finally brushed her clitoris. She gasped. Her other senses remained heightened, acutely sensitive. Tristan's rough, callused skin sent shivers of delight all the way to her toes as he stroked her.

  He paused.

  She waited eagerly, suspended in a time and place where only she and Tristan existed.

  Then...his fingers began tormenting her again, still stroking, moving up and down the damp folds of flesh. Almost. Almost where she needed him most. A low, needy moan slipped past her lips. Nothing could have prepared her for this sensual onslaught to her senses, this consuming quest for pleasure. Nothing.

  Again he paused.

  Again she waited, growing desperate for more.

  "Have you ever made love in a chair, Julia?"

  Slowly she shook her head. "I've never made love to anyone. Anywhere." Her voice was hoarse with longing.

  "I am glad," he said, kissing her neck again. His grip tightened as he spoke. "Your legs hook over the arms, opening the core of you. Then you take me inside so deeply you scream. And scream again. Over and over."

  Fantasies of her and Tristan in a chair, doing exactly what he described, besieged her, causing her throat to constrict. I have to have him in a chair.

  "Tell me that you want me, little dragon. Say the words."

  "I want you," she whispered. She wanted to kiss and lick his scars, to make them better and help him heal. She wanted to run her tongue over each of his tattoos and hear him gasp. "I want to make love with you so many times I'm not sure where my body ends and yours begins."

  Tristan whipped her around then. "Give me your mouth." His tone was now raw, primal. He didn't give her time to reply. His head swooped down, and his mouth ravaged hers. Welcoming his strength, his hardness, she met his tongue thrust for thrust, her hands kneading his back.

  Always and forever, she thought.

  "Always," he said, as if he'd heard her unspoken vow. He clutched her to him, his pulse drumming with a riot of sensation. With Julia in his arms, his past couldn't affect him. He wouldn't worry about another woman trying to steal him. He only cared about this moment. The feel of Julia's skin skipped along his nerve endings, intense and consuming. The scent of her drove him to the brink of wildness. He wanted this woman to the exclusion of all else.

  "Let me touch you," she said on a wispy catch of breath.

  He knew what such boldness cost her, and he would have given her the world just then had she asked. "Let you? Nay, Julia." He licked the seam of her lips. "I need you to touch me."

  He guided her hand down the planes of his chest, his navel, and together they plunged past his underwear. He helped her wrap her palm around the ridged length of his arousal, showed her the way of it. A quick study, his Julia, she soon stroked up, down, up with exquisite accuracy.

  "Yes, dragon," he praised, then groaned. "Just like that."

  Holding him in her hands gave Julia a sense of feminine power that she could only revel in. Here was a man, a master of sensuality, who responded to her as if he could never get enough.

  A heady thought, indeed.

  In the next heartbeat, he lifted her shirt over her arms, baring her naked breasts for his view. Cool air kissed her heated skin, causing her nipples to pucker, ache.

  She heard Tristan hiss in a breath, and he said, "You are the most ethereal creature I have ever beheld."

  "No, I--" she began out of habit, then stopped herself.

  He rimmed the outer edge of her nipple with his tongue and his finger traced her navel. The rest of her words died a quick death. Julia's body went up in flames. Needy for more, she arched her back, giving him better access. Tristan sucked the hardened peak into the hot wetness of his mouth. His hand trailed down her stomach. She quivered.

  At last Tristan removed her final garment: her panties. Julia groaned, not in discomfort or embarrassment, which still surprised her, but in longing. Right now, this man belonged to her. Only her. To others he might be a pleasure slave. But to her he was simply Tristan, a sensual man who branded her body as surely as he'd branded her heart.

  He placed drugging kisses across her neck and collarbone, and the hair on his chest tickled her skin. For only a second, he pulled back and she heard a delicate rush of air as he removed his underwear. Then one of his arms anchored under her knees. The other braced her lower back. When he lifted her into his embrace, her world tilted and it felt as if she were floating on a cloud of air. She clasped her arms around his neck for support.

  Tristan stilled for a moment, drinking in the sight of the woman who had consumed his thoughts since the moment he first saw her. She captivated him, took him to new levels of sensuality, and he had to command himself to slow down before things ended too quickly. This was Julia's first time and, by Elliea, she would enjoy every hour of it.

  Her breasts were full and lush, made for a man's touch. His touch. Rosy peaks crowned her nipples, ready and waiting. Beckoning. Her legs were not long, but they climbed all the way to heaven. Soon they would wrap around his waist, squeezing and pulling him tightly into her sheath.

  So powerful was that thought, he nearly sagged to his knees.

  Hunger drove him to the living room as fast as his feet could manage. A roll of thunder exploded, following a burst of lightning. He never even paused as he carried Julia to a soft, padded reclining chair. He eased down and adjusted her on his lap until her legs straddled his thighs and her knees rested on the chair's arms.

  He couldn't stop kissing her. He wanted to consume every inch of her. His hands slowly moved downward, skimming the soft curve of her stomach. Then he reached around to caress the silky curve of her bottom. Her indrawn breath told him just how much she liked it.

  Quickly losing his fragile hold on sanity, he once again explored her wet, feminine center, taunting her with fleeting caresses. She uttered a low, throaty moan. Her hips followed his touch, seeking whatever he would give her. He watched her face, watched the way her lips parted so uninhibitedly. The way she arched her back, silently demanding more.

  "That's it, little dragon. Move for me."

  "Tristan..." she began, only to draw in a breath when he laved his tongue over a waiting nipple. She was open for him, both mouth and body. This woman affected him as no other. Hearing his name on her lips was so more intense than actually making love with another. Julia somehow made him feel complete, whole, as if he'd been born merely to know her.

  She moaned again as his naked skin rubbed hers, electric, consuming, intensifying the ache his fingers caused. Soon she was writhing, searching for release from the intense sensations all but bursting within her.

  "I'm almost there," she said. Everything inside her was coiling and poised for release. She was so close to the edge, so unbelievably close. "Don't stop." Her breath came in short, erratic pants. "Everywhere you touch, heat ripples under my skin. I want you to never stop touching me. Promise?"

  "With my entire being." He groaned deep in his throat, the vibration touching her all the way to her toes.

  He pressed just a bit harder, but it was enough. Her inner muscles tightened; fierce pleasure erupted with the force of an avalanche. "Oh, my God, oh, my God, oh, my God!"

  While her orgasm still hummed with life, he buried two fingers deep within her, stretching the walls of her femininity and making her ready for his invasion. His other hand gripped one side of her hips, pulling her up, helping her imitate the rhythm of sex. Once. Twice. He pushed his fingers deeper. Over and over pulling back, sinking in. Her need for him amazed her. Not just his touch, but him. His voice, his smile, his happiness.

  Having deprived her body fulfillment for so long, it now demanded compensation. I need more, she thought. She craved all of him; she wanted him to experience release with her this time.

  "By Elliea, Julia, I have never felt anything so hot," he praised. "So cursed good, so tight."

  The tips of his fingers grew bolder, pushed
deeper, teasing and taunting. Sensation eclipsed time. Fiery pleasure grew within her, the embers all but inextinguishable. Each movement she made served only one purpose. To gain deliverance from the sweet torment he continually inflicted.

  "Come inside me, Tristan. I need you."

  He removed his fingers and stared up at her face. "I want to taste you first."

  Taste you first. It took a moment for Julia's passion-glazed mind to register what it was he actually wanted to do. When comprehension dawned, her sensual haze rescinded. She tore off the blindfold and tossed the black material to the floor. Panicked, she leaned back and drew her knees together.

  "No." She quickly shook her head. "I can't let you do that." The thought, though sensuous in the image it evoked, caused her all kinds of worry.

  "Aye." Tristan saw the wariness etching Julia's expression, and it doused the fire within him to a low-burning ember. His arms wrapped around her waist to keep her from bolting. "Let me taste you," he said. "Let me give you pleasure by using my tongue."

  Incapable of speech, she shook her head. Her legs locked together even tighter. If she moved a fraction of an inch, he noticed, her closed knees would ram into his swollen flesh.

  He gently cupped her chin in his hands and tilted. "Julia?"

  She didn't answer, didn't relax.

  "I asked you before if you trusted me," he said huskily. "Do you recall your answer?"

  Somehow she managed a small nod. The very thought of him doing as he wanted sent shards of wicked desire pulsing between her legs. But...could she allow him access to her most private place? To look? Taste?

  He slid his hands between her clasped legs, softly gripping her knees and pushing them apart. Then, hoping the familiar sensations might ease her, he urged two fingers inside of her again. He felt the wetness that pooled there and almost came. It required every ounce of self-preservation he possessed to submerge his intense hunger.

  "I'll never hurt you, little dragon. Let me. Let me take you inside my mouth."

  "But what if you don't like it?" she asked, finally voicing her fear.

  "I will like it," he said fiercely. "This I vow."

  The rich persuasiveness of his tone relaxed her, persuaded her to enter into the unknown, the feared. Bit by bit, she loosened the muscles in her thighs, giving him the access he craved.

  "If you're sure," she said softly.

  Her voice sounded drugged, breathless with passion, honey rich with uncertainty. He moved down, cupping her bottom with his hand and lifting her until her knees were braced atop the arms of the chair, her hands anchored to the top edge. His breath tickled the pink folds a second before she felt the heat of his tongue. He licked, caressed, moved against her, creating a dizzying friction. Her bones liquefied, her nerves sizzled, and at that moment, Julia knew she would never feel such exquisite agony again. Her ragged moans filled the room, mingling with the rumbles of thunder.

  Her head thrashed from side to side, causing her hair to stream wildly down her back, and even that served as a stimulant. The silky tendrils caressed her heated skin, tickling, brushing.

  Tristan pulled away.

  "Noooo." Her thighs tightened, trying to lock him in place and hold him to her until he fulfilled the need pulsing so steadily through her blood.

  "Like it, do you?" He uttered a hoarse chuckle, but the sound soon became a moan. "I do, as well, little dragon." Once more his tongue stroked, probed. "Never have I tasted anything so sweet," he whispered against the dewy flesh. "So perfect."

  Trembling, she arched into him. "Mmm..." Speech was impossible.

  So...much...pleasure...Everything inside of her burst. Flashing lights. Twitching muscles. This orgasm rocked her to the core, stronger even than the last. Unable to temper the effects of this powerful onslaught, she screamed his name.

  "You're killing me," she breathed.

  He'd never felt this savage, this...hot. "I need you, Julia," he said.

  "Yes. Yes."

  "You are so small. Are you prepared?"

  "Do it, Tristan. Do it now."

  He lowered her, barely able to restrain his desperation, and placed her knees beside his thighs. With a roar, he surged up, burying his swollen flesh inside her and breaking the barrier of her innocence. She stiffened for only a moment, then fused completely against him. For an eternity, he remained unmoving, allowing her body time to accept his invasion.

  For a moment, he felt her, not just her body, but her emotions, all the way to her soul. He felt her hunger, her awe. Her need. They were one being, two halves that made a whole.

  "Are you unharmed?" he asked, sweat beading his brow.

  "I am the way I was meant to be. A part of you."

  His lips thinned with his strain to hold back. "Can you take more?"

  "I'll take everything you have to give."

  He pushed a bit deeper. She arched. Then he slipped all the way to the hilt. She gasped.

  Perfection, he thought.

  He began to move deep, deeper, lifting her up, pulling her down, just as he had with his fingers. Little by little, his rhythm began to quicken. Faster. Faster, still. He took her hungrily, almost brutally, pounding into her the way he'd dreamed these many nights. He could not control his reaction to her; he wanted her too desperately. She stripped him to his baser self, consumed him. A moan escaped his throat when she rotated her hips, taking him at a different angle.

  "Do that again," he praised.

  "Like that?" She did it again.

  He nipped her bottom lip with his teeth. "Just like that."

  Julia grinned wickedly, then quickly lost her smile on a pleasured moan. The width of his penis stretched her, but the feeling of completeness he evoked far surpassed any discomfort. He was a part of her now, deep and solid, his body one with hers, and the knowledge was more drugging than the most potent medicine. She'd dreamed of this moment, dreamed of being with him, but her imaginings had paled in comparison to reality.

  His hand reached down between them, found her clitoris and pressed against it. With the mastery of his fingers, he made her forget any lingering discomfort.

  "Tell me how you feel," he commanded hoarsely. "Tell me when you like what I do."

  He slipped in and out of her, increasing in speed, increasing in urgency, even as he continued the onslaught with his fingertips.

  "I like...I like..." Her lower body moved with him, then against him, rising when he retreated, only to lower again when he surged forward. She couldn't think, could only push toward more satisfaction. By God, she would never deny herself this pleasure again.

  "Tell me," he breathed. Faster and faster he increased his rhythm. "Do you like this?"

  She opened her mouth to explain she'd reached the depths of heaven, but a moan tore from deep within her as she reached another climax. Molten sensations sent her spinning, spinning, faster, faster.

  Feeling Julia's inner walls tighten around his swollen shaft sent Tristan propelling over the edge, as well. Gratification, wholly male and infinitely powerful, sent a bestial roar of satisfaction ripping out of his throat before he collapsed into the chair, taking Julia with him. They were both spent.

  When he was able to drag in a mouthful of air, he whispered into the silky strands of her hair. "Well, my little dragon. I guess you liked it."

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Once You Have Worshiped Your Master's Body,

  Immediately Do So Again

  THE EVENING SHADOWS STREAMED through the velvety curtains and sheers, hazy and erotic. The storm had passed, yet its dewy essence still encompassed the room. Only an hour ago, Tristan had carried Julia to bed, where lace draped the entire length of the mattress and held them in a private haven. He had sparked the hearth's fire, and it now blazed with glowing embers, emitting lulling crackles every so often.

  I will protect what is mine, he thought fiercely.

  By fair means or foul, he would not allow Zirra, or any woman for that matter, to steal his box. Nor would he allow Ju
lia to be hurt by such attempts. Nay, he would not. Death would come first--theirs.

  I will protect what is mine, he thought again. Zirra had already proved she couldn't call him back permanently. And her powers had not been strong enough to do any real damage to Julia, only her belongings. Still...

  Realizing his muscles were tensing and readying for battle, he forced himself to relax. He turned onto his side and curled his arm around Julia's bare hip, fitting himself against her warm, sleeping form. He breathed in the lushness of her fragrance, and his eyes closed in surrender. His lips lifted in a half smile. He had kept his dragon busy for hours, introducing her to the many ways to make love. Beside him, astride him, standing. He had never enjoyed himself more.

  With his other guan rens, he had reached sexual release, aye, but he had remained unsated. Always unsated, as if something were missing inside of him. With Julia, he had reached the pinnacle of contentment. She made him feel free, gave him glimmers of absolution. Did she still consider herself unworthy? He had pleasured so many women, but until now he had never before held such potent sensuality in his hands. No woman had ever responded to him so completely, all inhibitions forgotten. Before Julia, sex had become a monotonous game he had tired of playing. With her, he found utter contentment.

  He was not worthy of Julia.

  As jaded as he was in matters of the flesh, this experience with Julia felt more real, fresher, than even his first time all those centuries ago. His fingertips traced silky patterns over her hip, then dipped lower to her bottom. The fact that he was Julia's first, her only, filled him with a possessive pride he could not explain.

  But I will not love her, he added darkly. He would not allow his pleasure slave spell to be broken, for he did not want to return to Imperia alone. Quite simply, he refused to lose this woman he held. He uttered a sardonic chuckle. How ironic that he preferred to face an eternity of enslavement simply to be with this woman awhile longer, a small flash of time.

  "Mine," he muttered, tightening his hold on Julia.

  LIKE THE HOWL OF A BANSHEE, the doorbell sounded.