Avondale froze. He seemed to war with himself, the dim candlelight flickering in his dilated pupils, the muscles clenching along his chiseled jaw. Knowing that she was getting somewhere, Olivia lent forward and lightly placed her hands on his shoulders.
Licking her lips, she huskily asked, “Did you enjoy it?”
He let out a groan. “I did.” But still he showed great restraint and hesitated to say more.
Olivia cocked a sly smile and trailed her fingers up his neck and over his jaw. She ran them deep into his luscious, thick hair. Taking a firm grip, she tipped his head back, forcing him to look up at her. Biting her lip, she moved forward until she hovered only mere millimeters from his ear. “Tell me, Dale, do you like to be dominated... or to be the dominator?”
He sucked in a breath, and his hands gripped her hips. “Careful. You are playing with fire.” He growled in her ear.
“Tell me.” She whispered back, unintimidated and more aroused than ever.
He hesitated for a couple or heartbeats. His grip on her hips became punishing, before he unclenched his hands and admitted. “It was in a specialized house that catered to more exotic tastes. But nothing as extreme as what the Marquis de Sade wrote about. I just enjoyed having the woman tied up and at my mercy. I allowed myself to be tied up a couple of times, too.”
He yanked her against him. “It was... titillating, having no control. And the woman was quite skilled.” He groaned and buried his face between her breasts. Against her leg, she could feel the hard ridge of his arousal. “I can’t believe I’m telling you any of this. I must have lost my mind. This is no suitable subject for a lady.”
“On the contrary,” Olivia replied, running her fingers through the silky locks, “I think this kind of frank talk is essential between lovers. If there was more communication, there would be less dissatisfaction.”
“Perhaps. But if I tried to talk about this with any society lady, they would have the vapors. It would only confirm in their minds that I’m a depraved reprobate.” His voice labored between desire and humor.
“So far, I have heard nothing that would make me think you are depraved. Just a passionate man with a creative sexuality.”
He raised his face to look at her. Eyes full of desire were an invitation she couldn’t resist. Olivia kissed down his cheek to his mouth. When she arrived at his lips, he captured hers and took control of the kiss. He kissed her deeply, hungrily, his tongue invading her mouth and sliding sensually. Leaving no room for retreat. His lips sucked at hers, creating cascades of sensation running down her body. Her knees softened, and he supported her by hugging her hips.
Olivia brought her knees up to straddle him on the bench, bringing their pelvises together with exquisite intimacy. She rocked herself against his rigid shaft, enjoying the hardness against her most sensitive spot. Dale sucked in a breath, his every muscle going rigid. He held her hips steady while deep shudders rocked him.
Thinking he had orgasmed, Olivia groaned internally. She had gone too fast. The man hadn’t had sex in years. No wonder he was ready to explode. No matter. There would be other opportunities. She was actually kind of pleased with herself that she had made him lose control so thoroughly.
Huskily she asked, “Dale, did you just finish?”
His low chuckle was devilish. He looked at her with mischief in his eyes. “I haven’t ‘finished’ anything. In fact, we are just getting started. You have broken my control, so prepare yourself. Before the night is over, I’m going to make you come for me several times. So hard that you are going to scream my name.”
The naked sensuality of his tone and the promise of pleasure in his eyes sent a shiver down her spine. It was so at odds with his previous coolness and detachment. It was as if a layer had been peeled. And to think that he hid all this carnality beneath a veneer of propriety. She now saw the profoundly passionate man under the surface and the contrast started a fire in her veins.
“I think I will marry you after all,” she said.
He growled and grabbed the knot of her robe, pulling at it while taking her mouth again in another drugging kiss. His clever fingers untied the knot and opened her robe. He pushed it off her shoulders, and the heavy material fell to the floor in a heavy whoosh. He caressed her through the thin fabric of the silk nightgown. His hands traveled up her thighs, around to her bottom, grabbing fistfuls of her ass, before contouring her waist and making soothing circles on her back. She melted under his touch like wax licked by fire.
It was too much, and at the same time, it wasn’t enough. She wanted his hands on her with no barriers. He seemed to know exactly what she wanted. He redirected his hands and ran them up her thighs, dragging the hem of her gown up and up. She stood on her knees to let it pass under her bottom and lifted her arms. He pulled the gown over and off, finally freeing her. She was totally naked, spread, straddling his lap. Her sex felt heavy and wanton as his gaze scorched her skin, her nipples beading in the cool air as his eyes roamed possessively over her body.
“You are so beautiful,” he whispered thickly.
His admiring gaze inflamed her further. He remained fully dressed, and the contrast of his clothed body against her complete nakedness added another layer of wicked pleasure.
He let the moment stretch, but she could not wait any longer. Her breasts felt heavy, her core wept with desire, and the little bud at the center of her pleasure ached, swollen and sensitive, crying out for attention. She undulated her hips, trying to find some release in the movement, and took both her breasts in her hands, massaging them, rolling her sensitive nipples between her fingers.
He snapped.
Groaning, he took one of her breasts in his mouth, sucking and licking and teasing it to aching hardness. He did the same with the other, alternating between the two, while his clever hands moved down below from every direction. He smoothed one hand down her back, slipped it between her butt cheeks to cup her sex from behind. Owning, possessing. He dipped a finger into her core and spread the moisture, circling her entrance before delving in again, deeper this time.
Her vagina contracted, her internal muscles trying to grab onto him, and the slippery digit escaping and driving her mad. His other hand cupped her from the front, unerringly finding and rubbing her swollen and sensitized clit. Drawing inarticulate sounds from her throat.
His mouth at her breasts, his fingers on her, in her. Her breathing fractured. She felt the familiar climbing; the tension winding tighter and tighter within herself until she passed some exquisite point. And the pressure released. She gasped and spasmed as wave after wave of a powerful climax wracked her body. His hands and mouth never stopped. They stayed with her, drawing every ounce of exquisite pleasure from her orgasm until she finally fell limp on his chest.
He slowly drew his hands from her pussy to wrap one arm around her waist and the other under her butt, propping her up.
“Wrap your legs around me,” he commanded a moment before he stood up with her in his arms.
And just like that, with her naked and twinned around him like a limpet, he walked out of the music room and through the sleeping house toward his bedroom.
