Extreme Bachelor (25 page)

It was a foolish thing to have done, and she
would blame the wine . . . but there was something else, wasn’t
there? He looked so damn good, so sexy, and in spite of her deep
misgivings, she was having a bit of a problem—she couldn’t stop
thinking about sex in his presence. Raw, hot, and very ambitious
sex.

She really missed that.

She really missed
him
.

She really missed being loved, although
technically, she wasn’t being loved at the time, or he never would
have left her, but there she went again, trying to sort out what
happened five years ago, letting it mess up an otherwise perfect
evening.

Michael touched her shoulder, bringing her
back to the here and now. She turned around, and he handed her a
cognac. “I don’t have any cigars,” he said with a smile. “But I
hope you can still enjoy it.” He was referring to a night they had
spent in Boston. He’d had to go for business—what business, she
wondered—and she’d accompanied him for a chance to see the Red Sox
play. After a particularly lusty romp between the sheets, they had
sipped cognac and smoked cigars. Sort of. Neither one of them was a
smoker, but it had seemed like decadent fun.

She smiled and lifted the glass to her lips.
“I think I can manage,” she said, and tasted it. It was smooth and
rich—an excellent vintage, she assumed. Michael turned and walked
back to the small bar. His tuxedo fit like a glove, she couldn’t
help noticing. There was that thought of sex again, only this time,
it wasn’t just an idea that sprung into her head, it was a jolt to
her groin.

Maybe she could get over
the past and start over, fresh, just like he’d said. Maybe he
really meant all the things he’d said. Maybe he really regretted
what happened. Maybe, this time, it could be even better. And
besides, she’d suffered through a sexual dry spell recently, and
he
was
an
excellent lover. Sex didn’t mean forever. It didn’t mean she was
naive or going to make the same mistake again. It just meant . . .
sex.

Leah abruptly followed Michael, tossing her
evening bag onto the couch. “What did you do with the soufflé?” she
asked, looking around.

“I put it away,” he said and picked up his
snifter, strolled toward her.

“We could have a taste of it with our
cognac.”

“No,” he said with a shake of his head.
“Don’t think so.”

“Why not?” she asked as he reached her.

“Because . . .” He leaned his head toward
hers and breathed her in. A little shiver of anticipation shot down
Leah’s spine. “You have to earn it,” he murmured as he moved around
behind her, slowly circling her. It was a little joke between them,
something he used to say when he wanted to be decadent with her
body.

She smiled, turned her head away from him to
better feel his breath on her neck. “What exactly do I have to do
to earn it?”

He brushed his lips
against her ear. “
You have to
come
.”

If that’s all it took, he should just touch
her, because she was fairly certain if he kept this up, she could
come standing. “That’s not on the agenda, remember?”

“Isn’t it?” he asked low as he put aside his
snifter and touched her shoulder with the palm of his hand, slowly
caressing her bare arm down to her hand. And up again. And then he
was standing in front of her, his eyes gone so dark they were
almost black, his smile soft and terribly enticing.

“What do you think, baby?” he asked, taking
the snifter of cognac from her hand and putting it aside, too.

“I think you’re nuts?”

He shook his head. “I’m not. Neither are
you. So tell me,” he said, his eyes dark, his hand moving softly
from her shoulder to her neck. “Tell me you want me to make you
come,” he whispered as he touched his lips to her neck.

Oh God, she did. She really, honestly did.
The ground felt like it was melting away beneath her feet, and she
clutched his arm, let her head drop back, and against all common
sense, she whispered, “I want you to make me come.”

He made a guttural sound deep in his throat
and slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her into his body as
he lowered his mouth to kiss her. Leah’s heart began to pound in
her chest as his lips moved from her mouth to her neck, then her
earlobe, and across her jaw to her mouth again. But then he
abruptly spun her around and pushed her up against one of the
columns, pressing his body against hers, as his tongue dipped
hungrily into her mouth.

Her heart leaped to her throat as his hands
flit down her arms to her hips and up again, reaching her breasts.
But then he lifted his head, braced his arms on either side of her
head. That lock of black hair had fallen over his eye, and he
smiled roguishly, just like a man who knew he was in control and on
the verge of having fabulous sex.

This would go his way—he would do what he
wanted to her, and something about that sent another shiver of
delight through Leah.

Michael’s gaze roamed her figure, lingering
on her neckline. He touched her collarbone with the back of his
hand. “I’ve thought about making love to you for years,” he said,
his voice low. His hand dipped to her cleavage, from where he drew
a line up to her neck again. “I’ve thought about all of the ways I
would touch you.”

Leah sucked in a breath.

“I’ve thought of where I would touch you. If
I would use my hands,” he said, his fingers flicking over her
breast, “or my mouth,” he said as his hand dipped down to the apex
of her legs, “or my cock.”

This was going to be good. This was going to
be so good that she could hardly contain herself, and she bit her
lower lip to keep from trembling like some blasted recluse who
hadn’t had anything but mediocre sex in five years—okay, so she
hadn’t—and would, at that moment, kill the doorman if that’s what
it took to have fabulous sex.

“I’ve thought of how you would respond,” he
added, reaching for his tie and pulling it free of its knot.
“Especially if you were my captive audience.”

“Oh, Jesus,” she whispered. She felt damp,
intoxicated, her body turning to mush, and he’d really done nothing
more than talk. The effect was so overpowering that she pressed her
hand against the column behind her for support.

Michael knew her too well, though, and he
knew that she had jelly knees. He laughed a low, dangerously
seductive laugh that sent an electric charge through her. “Would
you like that, baby?” he asked, and pressed the palm of his hand
against her cheek.

“Yes,” she said instantly,
unabashedly. She wanted to be his captive audience. She wanted to
be his captive audience
right
now
.

Michael wasn’t laughing as he pulled the tie
free of his neck and held it up for her to see. “Give me your
hand.”

She did it without question, holding it up
to him. He tied the black silk tie around her wrist, made a knot,
kissed her palm, then stepped back and pulled her away from the
column. “I am going to make you scream.” He dropped her hand and
stood back. “Undress.”

Leah hesitated only a moment, then slowly
turned and presented her back to him to unzip. When he had lowered
the zipper, he pushed the dress from her shoulders, down to her
elbows, then dropped his hands. “Turn around.”

She turned, pushed the turquoise sheath from
her body, stepped out of it, and handed it to him. He tossed it
onto the couch behind him without a glance, watching her, his gaze
taking in her lacy bra, the thong bikini panties she was wearing,
the high heels. Her only other accessory was the black silk tie
dangling from her wrist.

“Go on,” he said, and watched as she reached
behind to unfasten her bra, then slide it off her arms. She held
that out to him, too. That, he pitched over his shoulder. When she
put her hands on the panties, Michael shook his head.

“No,” he said. “I want you to wear those.”
And then he was the one to take a steadying breath.

“Jesus, you’re beautiful,” he said at last.
“You’re so beautiful.” He reached for her breast, his fingers
sliding beneath it, feeling the weight of it, then the other. “I’ve
thought of you like this so many times.” His gaze was so dark, so
hot, so intense that Leah began to reach for him, but Michael
surprised her by abruptly grabbing her around the waist and lifting
her off her feet with one arm. He moved two steps forward and
dropped her roughly against the column.

“Beautiful and free,” he said with a wink.
“We can’t have that.” He took her hand, pulled it back around the
column, then stepped around it and took her other hand, and using
the end of his tie, bound her hands securely behind the column. She
was tied with her back to the column, her breasts jutting out.

Michael walked around to stand before her
and peruse his handiwork. He was smiling as he touched her breast,
her lips, and then traced a line from her jaw all the way down her
body to the top of her legs. He watched her eyes as he slid his
finger between her legs, moving back and forth over the fabric of
her thong. “You’re wet,” he murmured. “You want me to
continue?”

Oh yes, hell yes, she wanted him to
continue, and nodded.

“I can’t hear you.”

“Yes,” she whimpered, and closed her eyes,
focusing entirely on his hand and fingers and the wild burst of
sensual pleasure that was erupting in her. Michael slipped a hand
behind her and pressed against the small of her back, forcing her
into his body as his fingers worked against the silk fabric of her
panties, going deeper into the slit of her body, twirling
suggestively around her clitoris. His mouth moved on her lips in
rhythm with his hand, gliding over them so delicately that her lips
began to tingle savagely with the whisper of each kiss.

And just when she began to breathe heavily,
about to come, Michael withdrew his hand and stepped away from her.
“Not so fast, baby,” he said, and casually removed his vest,
tossing it aside. “I’ve only begun to play.”

He unbuttoned his shirt, laughing a little
at how hard she was breathing as he shrugged out of it. The man was
magnificent—hard body, sculpted, strong. He put his hands on her
arms, caressing her skin as he nuzzled her neck. Then he slid down
her body, to her bared breasts, and took one in his mouth, his
teeth nipping at her hard nipple.

Leah felt dangerously close to falling and
moaned, but that only made Michael suck harder, his teeth grazing
her, drawing sensation from deep in her groin. Leah was floating
now, on a cloud of pure sensation, buoyed by his assault on her
senses and his firm grip of her body. With his mouth and his hands,
he slid down her body, to his haunches, his mouth leaving a hot,
wet trail on her belly. When he reached the thong, he grabbed the
tiny string of it with his teeth and jerked, tearing the fabric.
With his mouth, he pulled her panties down her leg so that now she
was completely bare to him.

“Ah . . . sweet,” he said. “So sweet,” he
said, his mouth just an inch from the curly hair. “I remember the
way you taste.” His tongue dipped in between the curls, and a hard
shiver of delight coursed through Leah.

He glanced up, ran his hands up her sides
and to her breasts. “How do you feel?”

Leah looked down at him, panting. “I’m
burning up.”

“It is a little warm,” he agreed with a
salacious grin.

“Untie me, Michael. Untie me so I can touch
you, too,” she begged him.

“No way,” he said, and roughly pushed her
legs further apart. “This is all for you.”

“No, Michael, let me—”

“Shut up,” he growled, and flicked his
tongue against her.

Leah sucked in her breath; Michael gripped
her hips firmly and began to lick her, his tongue dipping deep into
her slit, tasting her, exploring her, teasing her at the core of
her desire, then sliding down the slick pathway again, to where she
throbbed for him.

Above him, Leah’s chin
dropped to her chest, and she moaned with the thrill of it. This
was just as she remembered it—the man was a master. He knew how to
interpret her moaning and heavy breathing; the stroke of his tongue
became urgent and harder, his mouth covering her, sucking her as
she moved, shamelessly grinding against him, seeking her
fulfillment. She was so close, so
close
—

But Michael suddenly fell back, stumbling a
little before straightening and dragging the back of his hand
across his mouth.

“Michael!” she gasped.

“Not yet,” he said with a laugh. “Not until
I’ve made you absolutely insane with desire.”

“You win, you win! Please don’t stop now!”
she cried.

“Oh, I’m not stopping,” he said and grabbed
her chin, pushed her head back so that her face was tilted up to
his, then plunged his tongue into her mouth, kissing her until she
was panting for breath. He lifted his head; his gaze roamed her
face, and he stroked aside a strand of blond hair. “You’ve got a
long way to go before I’m done with you.” And with that, he reached
behind her, felt for the slipknot on her wrist and yanked it free.
Her hands instantly came up to his shoulders.

Michael lifted her up and pushed her against
the column. Leah instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist,
felt his erection hard and hot pressing against her, and kissed his
face, his lips, his ears, but then he dropped her down and let
go.

“Stand there. Don’t move,” he ordered her,
and as she watched, he quickly shed his shoes and clothes. His
erection was enormously thick and hot, a drop or two of moisture at
the tip an indication that he, too, was almost there. Leah tried to
take him in hand, but Michael caught her by the arms and roughly
turned her around, so that she was facing the column.