“And you’re actually pressing the flame against my skin? And I’m not getting burned?” She licked her lips, a wave of dizziness swamping her mind. Things were moving so quickly, faster than she could sort out.
A man was laying flame to her body. And she was letting him. She was mad.
“Have you never played snapdragon?” He touched the flame of the torch to the crease of her bottom. The heat on her skin was transitory, but the heat that started further south built. “When you stick your hand in the flaming bowl to grab a raisin, you don’t get burned then, do you?”
That snapped her back from the edge of fear. “Unlike some, I don’t spend my time playing parlor games.” She sniffed. “Some of us have to work.” Cautiously, she wiggled her bum, inviting him to play with her more. She nervously waited for the next hiss of fire meeting skin. The faint odor of brandy teased her nose, and she swore she could hear the flames of the candles around her flicker.
“No need to get testy.” He tapped her bottom with the fire in quick succession, each flash of heat ratcheting up her desire, like a tightening spring turned a gear. She rubbed her thighs together, squeezing her ankles tight. The tip of his torch found the crease at her upper thigh, lingered a moment, the sensation transforming from a prickle to an itch she couldn’t scratch. She whimpered.
Placing a palm at the base of her spine, Max stilled her rocking hips. “The fire should tickle, perhaps turn into a sting, but not burn. Some people enjoy pain, but I don’t want to leave a mark on your body aside from a fleeting red patch.” He shifted the flame to her other upper thigh. “Does that burn?”
“Oh God.” Warmth flooded her body, but nowhere near matching the heat on her thigh. The tips of her breasts scraped against the embroidery in the bed’s coverlet as she writhed, driving her wild. She didn’t know what it was she felt. There was a pinch of pain, yes. But it came and went so quickly, leaving in its place a lethargic ache. Her body missed the fire as soon as it was removed. “More. Please,” she added, remembering that no matter what liberties she allowed with her body, the man was still her employer. And a baron. He expected the niceties.
She didn’t want to insult him. Not if she wanted him to continue.
The gentleman he was, Max acceded to her demand. He set up a steady rhythm. Each tap of the torch was like a brush with a stinging nettle. And just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, she couldn’t wait for him to start again. Anticipation warred with a sweet lethargy. How could something feel so intense and make her muscles sag into the mattress at the same time?
Max played her body like a drum, the rhythmic pattern making her mind drift. The stresses of the day, her worry over her flower shop, they all floated away. All that remained was the heat, a startling awareness of every inch of her body, and the man kneeling beside her, giving her pleasure.
“You said you needed this.” Colleen cleared her throat then raised her voice above its drowsy murmur. “That you had a bad day. What happened?”
The drumbeat paused. “Nothing you need to hear about.”
Well, Colleen couldn’t have that. She looked over her shoulder, saw that the torch was well away from her body, and rolled. She positioned the pillow under her head and lay back, fixing him with a stern look. The wax on her back pulled at her skin and she shifted, restless. “I’m not some naïve green girl. I thought we’d already established that. I don’t need you trying to protect my innocence. It’s too late for that.”
Max’s gaze travelled from her face down her body. Cupping one heavy breast, he teased the nipple with the velvety pad of his thumb. Her skin puckered beneath his touch. “I know you’ve seen a lot,” he said. “Too much. I don’t want to add anymore filth to your head. And I don’t want to think about it. I just want to burn it from my mind tonight.”
Bending low, he licked her nipple with the flat of his tongue, his beard scratching her breast. Slowly, he lowered the torch, hovering it over her skin.
She stared at the flame, transfixed, her breath trapped in her throat. Her body wanted to arch into the heat, to bring the burn to herself, but she waited. Waited for Max to make his move.
He lowered the torch, bringing the flame to her damp skin with a whisper-light kiss. Colleen heard a faint sizzle, felt her nipple ache with pleasure, before he lifted the torch and sucked the tingling tip of her breast into his mouth. He pulled, hard, and she felt the tug all the way down to her sex.
His wet mouth did nothing to cool her fever. Digging her fingers into his beard, she held his head in place. Each suckle brought a whimper to her lips. He rolled his tongue and bit the soft underside of her breast.
Max was right. The time for conversation was over.
She looked down his body, saw he was as ready as she was. Tentatively, she trailed her hand down his stomach, grazed his length with just the tips of her fingers. Soft heat. Like the torch. Only Max pulsed beneath her touch.
She licked her bottom lip. “Have you burned away enough bad memories for the night? There are other ways I can help you forget.” Running her middle finger down the path of one thick vein, she reached the base of his cock and changed direction, skimming his skin until she reached his crown.
His eyes burned hotter than the flames. “I’ve wanted to feel you come around my cock all damn day.” He dunked the torch into the bowl of water, and it hissed out of life. He tossed the bowl on the nightstand, half the water sloshing out onto the floor.
Colleen didn’t mind a spot of cleaning, not if it sped things along. But when Max lowered his large body to hers, she pressed a palm to his chest, stopping him. “Shouldn’t we turn down the lamp?” It was nearly bright as day in her room. When Max was playing with fire on her body, making sure his vision was unimpeded only seemed prudent. But relations were meant to happen under the cover of darkness, as God intended. They’d already violated the unwritten rule of leaving as many clothes on between the bodies as possible. At least the lights had to be dimmed.
He drew his eyebrows together. “Why would we do that? I wouldn’t be able to see you?”
“There’s nothing important to see. It’s the same body parts as every other woman.” A little rounder than the girls of the club. Softer. Max didn’t need to see that bouncing under him.
He smiled darkly and bracketed her hips with his knees, her head with his palms. He was like a large cat, pinning its prey, about to go in for the kill.
Her nipples tingled.
“Darling, before this night is over, I’m going to know every single inch of you. Taste every inch of you. And if I had the stamina, I would fuck every inch of you that I could.” He lowered, his cock nestling into the vee of her thighs. Slowly, deliberately, he shifted his hips up and back, running his length lightly over the bundle of nerves at her apex. “But that might take two nights.”
Gripping his forearms, she dented his skin with her nails. His smile widened. All right then. She’d already broken most of the rules of propriety. One more hardly mattered.
The touch at her clit was feather-light. Insubstantial. She tried to widen her legs, give him better access, but his knees blocked her. She whimpered in frustration.
