Double Dare (19 page)

They stood in the doorway, drank from their glasses and from each other's eyes.

"It's an excellent view of the river," she said, not looking at it but at him. He nodded. The air was so charged she almost felt rays of light crashing from her body to break up the humid air around them.

"Come inside. I want to see what you look like sitting in one of my Mackintosh chairs." He slipped his arm around her waist and led her back. His hand lay on her hip. It felt right, it felt good, and it belonged.

"Your throne...Witch Queen." He drew the chair out for her.

She sat down on the beautiful piece of furniture. She leaned back against the dramatic headrest, the lines of the upward struts cool against her back.

Zac stood and looked at her. "Very suitable," he said with a dark smile.

She could see the desire in his eyes. Could he see it in hers? She suspected it was even more obvious than his. She crossed her legs and he watched. He glanced up. "The bottle," he said and wandered off to the kitchen again.

She looked around the room. He'd put some of the books onto the shelves and that made her smile. She stood up and wandered over, drawn to the library full of keys to his mind, to his soul. Her fingers ran over the spines of the books, almost as though she could take all their knowledge from them with her touch. She saw titles she recognized, books that stood as well read and creased on her own shelves. Others were mysterious and unknown to her. She touched them with a curious finger. Would she ever truly know him?

She heard him come in behind her, then the sound of the bottle being put down. He closed on her, and she felt the touch of his bare chest against the back of her shoulders. She stirred back against him, her eyes closing.

His hands slipped around her hipbones, the thrusting line of his body pressed against her back. "You don't want to read now, do you?" His mouth was close to her ear.

She smiled and moved her hand to the shelf. "Well..." She felt his mouth on her bare shoulder. She slipped a book out and he took it from her. She glanced down at the cover. It was an Eastern love text.

She looked back at him. "I thought I might learn some of your secrets," she said, suggestively.

He smiled and put the book down. "I don't want you to learn all my secrets too quickly." He eased her away from the shelves. "Your champagne will be getting warm." Then he walked over to sit in the chair she had abandoned. It was a subtle invitation to follow.

She felt as if they were two jungle creatures stalking each other in the moonlit heat of the tropics. She stood for a moment then followed his path, pausing only when her legs touched against his knees. He handed her the glass she had left behind and pulled her gently onto his lap.

Her free hand went to his shoulder, steadying herself, then glanced down at his tattoo. She followed the pattern with her fingers. "What does it mean...to you?"

He laughed quietly, his head dropping back, his hands drawing her closer on his hips as he leaned back. "I had it done when I was a troubled teenager," he replied. "It expressed the way I felt at the time. Part Greek, part English, my mixed blood made me unsettled."

She let her gaze wander over the bones of his face while he spoke.

"I felt like I didn't fit in anywhere, that both races were somehow familiar, yet foreign to me." He was watching her reaction as he spoke.

She traced the line of the yin yang symbol and its bed of thorns with one curious finger. "But you seem so comfortable with yourself now." She tried to imagine him as a troubled youth. The idea made her wet. She crossed one leg over the other, her knee drawing up to be met by his hand as it moved over the surface of her trousers.

"I came to realize that there is no norm, most people feel that they don't fit in at one time or another."

He could have been talking about her feelings about the people she worked with. It was so strange.

He broke into a smile then. "I grew out of it I guess, and adopted all aspects available to me."

"The multi-faceted human character?" she said, reminding him of their first conversation.

He nodded and stared into her eyes, as if he could read her thoughts.

She sipped her champagne. His fingers rose to her throat and touched it as she swallowed.

"Everyone has their secret side, Abby, only in some people it is more developed than others." His mouth curled. "You have a dark side, do you not?"

She looked at his teasing smile. His lips were so perfectly carved. She wanted to drink her champagne from his mouth while he kissed her.

His eyes were glowing. He seemed to be reading her thoughts as they flickered suggestions.

"You know me so well," she murmured. Her wrist slid between the chair and the back of his bare shoulder, the glass disappearing into his hair.

His hand moved from her leg to her waist, then reached up to cup her breast from beneath. "Fate decided that we should meet."

She leaned toward him, because his words and actions infused her with the need for more of him. "Do you think we were lovers in another life?" she whispered, her sex creaming as the thought teased her.

"Probably," he said and she seemed to see the confirmation in his eyes. His hand closed on her breast and he moved against the surface of her top slowly.

Her womb tightened in response to his touch and she felt her breasts straining against his spread palm. She focused on his lips but moved hers past his face and sipped her drink. Then she moved back over his cheek and kissed his mouth, letting the liquid spill slowly into his opening mouth. She moved her hand from his arm to his neck, to feel him swallow, and then she chased the liquid with her tongue. Their kiss endured until his body jerked.

She dropped back and saw that she'd spilt her drink across his shoulder. It was running over his chest towards his waist. The sparkling patterns of liquid invited her to follow them. She got off his lap and pushed open his thighs to kneel between them.

He sat back and watched her, his eyes narrowed, his mouth tense with contained passion.

She chased the clinging bubbles of champagne back up from his waist to his nipple and sucked, teasing it with her tongue as it hardened. When she saw the pleasure in his face she lifted her glass and ran the remaining liquid over his chest, a little at a time, her mouth catching it, spreading it over him and drinking in the taste of his body with it.

He swore quietly, stretching at each splash on his skin, each suck of her mouth.

She felt his hand in her hair, heard him putting his own glass to the floor so he could touch her while she moved on him. His skin tasted so good she drew it into her mouth, sucked, kissed it across his chest. She took a subtle bite where she could feel the bone at the base of his rib cage. A well of desire whirled inside her body, sweeping her into its charge.

The glass dropped from her hand and she heard it roll on the carpet. She reached for his belt, the button and the zipper. She felt his fingers tighten in her hair as she pulled him free, his cock reaching, like the root of a tree moving through the earth to find its sustenance.

She moved her face into the heat of his loins as she took in his dense rich scent, her fingers sliding up the silken surface of his erect shaft. Her sex throbbed. The primal force contained in him was mirrored in her own body, like a magnet seeking its equal force. Her lips caressed the surface of his cock, feeling the hot skin, the smooth, ridged flesh. Her sex was pounding, and she plunged her mouth over his shaft, taking it deep, filling her mouth with him, tasting him and pleasuring him. She caresses each slight ridge, her fingers gently moving against his shaft.

She heard his muted sounds of pleasure then he breathed out her name. With exploratory fingers she measured the weight and tautness of his balls. She heard his breathing come quicker, felt the movement of his balls riding up. She lifted her mouth from him, licking him upwards as she did, her fingers still moving on the base of his shaft.

His fingers hung in her tangled hair like creatures captured in a net.

She looked at the throbbing tip of his penis, the slit that gleamed a pearl-like dew with the promise of more to come. She felt his finger touch her lips. As she looked up their eyes met.

"You're delicious, Zac." Her voice was husky.

He stared at her with the pain of absolute pleasure. He pulled at her hair with his fingers, his mouth moving silently.

She smiled then took him into her mouth again, nudging his crown along the roof of her mouth to her throat. He gave a mighty moan and his thick, hot juices pumped into her mouth, swirled into her throat and she swallowed him, each drop like nectar to her.

When she kissed the last drop from him and looked up he was still braced against the chair, his eyes closed. He looked like a dark overlord conquered by pleasure. She sank down to sit on the floor and lay over him. Her arms reached up his chest, her face lay close against the moist surface of his abdomen. His sated penis glued itself close to her cleavage. Her breasts ached and her whole pelvis pounded with hot, animal instincts.

He stroked his hands over her shoulders and across her back, lifted the material of her tank top and slid his warm hands underneath. He moved one hand to her chin and caressed it, sweeping her hair back where it clung to her face.

"It's so hot," she whispered.

He nodded. The heat was all around them. He fastened his pants and drew her up, lifted her in his arms and carried her to the bedroom. She rolled against his body as he carried her and linked her arms around his neck. She felt so heavy with heat and lust she wondered how he could lift her.

He laid her down on the bed. "Let me get you something refreshing."

She lay back on the bed, watching him walk away, sinking into the cool black sheets. Soon they would be heated through from her body. It had to be the hottest night of the year. There was a storm coming. She could sense its approach.

When he returned he was carrying a platter of fruit. He sat down on the edge of the bed and proceeded to cut it with a small paring knife.

She lay back and watched him. His face was cast in shadow and it heightened the dark, sexual look of him. She heard a crack and he reached towards her mouth with a small, dark, passion fruit broken in his hand. The juice and seeds were spilling through his fingers. She sucked them from his skin slowly, the taste of the cool fruit only just managing to distract her from the feeling of his fingers in her mouth.

He was smiling and she continued to suck at him long after the juice had gone, holding his gaze with hers. He pushed her gently back onto the bed and reached for another passion fruit.

She opened her mouth but he shook his head. "This one's for me." He cracked it over her chest and she gasped as the cool juice slid down her skin and into the material of her top. He leaned over her and licked the juice from her, his tongue chasing it in quick swirling movements that spread flames under her skin.

This wasn't cooling her down at all, quite the reverse. He reached for another fruit and dribbled it slowly onto her breasts, the material soaking with juice, revealing the erect tissue of her nipples. He followed the juice with his mouth, communicating his desire through her body via the electric current at her nipple.

"Zac," she whispered. Her sex was aching for him. But he continued his attentions at her breasts, moving from one to the other until she trembled with desire. When he sat up she looked down at her top. It was saturated with juice.

"Oh dear, what will I wear to get home?"

He smiled. "You can always borrow something of mine... Do you have to go at all though?"

She frowned, her eyes closing. She had to be up early to get to work, check for Adrianna's papers and prepare for the auction. "Yes. I have something important to do at work, first thing. I have to go later. It's too difficult to leave you in the morning." She feared he wouldn't understand that she really wanted to stay.

"I'd like to keep you here, all night, in my bed." His fingers squeezed her nipples slowly as he spoke.

Her heart raced at the thought of it. She groaned and leaned back against the pillows.

He slid a cold piece of mango against her throat then leaned over to eat it from her skin. The sensation of his grabbing mouth against her throat sent a wild thread of electricity across her chest.

"We'll be together at the weekend," she murmured.

"I can hardly wait." He looked at her again.