She whimpered as he moved, his hands reaching for her arms, pulling them gently, taking the support she used to keep her body upright as he released the back support of the lounger. He lowered her until her back rested on the flat surface.
Ella stared up at him, trembling, hating the weakness that flooded her body. Damn him. He was so assured, so sensual, so damned tempting she could barely keep her senses intact.
“James.” Her breath caught in arousal as his fingers went to the tiny buttons of her bodice. Her breasts were unbound beneath the fabric, her nipples hard, on fire for his touch.
“I’ve dreamed of touching you, Ella,” he whispered, his green eyes darkening, the thick black lashes lowering sensually over the wicked orbs. “Ached to taste you. Do you have any idea the hell I’ve gone through for the last ten years, wanting to hear you scream my name as you climax for me?”
A whimper escaped her lips as the last button of the dress came free, and he was able to spread the edges apart with slow deliberation. Her body was laid out before him then, only the thin silk of her panties left to cover the front of her body.
“You’re wet for me, Ella,” he whispered, his eyes centering on the pale green triangle of fabric. “And you still shave your pretty pussy, don’t you? When my tongue caresses it, laps up all that thick cream, you’ll feel every soft touch, won’t you?”
His hand spread her legs slowly. Ella gripped the sides of the lounger, watching him, mesmerized by the sensuality in his expression, the hunger reflected in his eyes, in the curve of his lips.
“James.” She whispered his name, her voice rough, pleading as she caught his hands when they moved to the band of her panties. “I can’t…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, couldn’t force the words past her lips.
“Can’t what, baby?” he asked her gently, his fingers hooking in the elastic, pulling her panties down, away from her weak grip. “Can’t lay back and feel good for me? Can’t see if what we’ve waited for all these years isn’t as good as our imaginations? Why can’t you do that?”
He was hypnotizing her, she thought desperately. Stealing her will with the sound of his deep, rough voice. Making her crazy for him with that dark, hooded look.
She trembled as he removed the scrap of silk then spread her legs wider. All the while he watched her from the side of the lounger, his chest moving hard and fast, as he seemed to fight for breath himself, his eyes darkening lustfully.
“Damn, Ella, you’re prettier than I ever imagined.” His hand moved up her thigh until his fingers grazed the desperate heat and thick juices that coated her cunt. The proof of her weakness. The proof that she was just as depraved, just as perverted as Jase had been, because she knew, knew beyond a shadow of a doubt exactly what James wanted from her.
“I can’t.” She jerked from him, moving before he could stop her, stumbling from the lounger then rushing desperately away from him. Away from her own needs.
Jumping to her feet, she rushed to her bedroom, fighting her tears, her fears. James’ voice was dark, angry behind her, spurring her forward, making her heart beat in dread. If he touched her again, asked her again, she wouldn’t be able to refuse him. He was her weakness. He was her sin.
She slammed the door behind her, then fought to drag the suitcase from her closet. She couldn’t stand it. If he wouldn’t leave, then she would. He could have the fucking house. Do whatever the hell he wanted. She couldn’t stand it anymore. She ignored her dress as it flared away from the front of her body, ignored her nakedness beneath it. She had to leave, had to get away from him.
Bent over, her mind centered on pulling the damned case from the small utility closet, she was unaware that James had followed her until he burst into the bedroom, gripped her hips and tossed her on the bed.
“Damn you,” she screeched as she came to her knees, clutching the sides of her dress. Her eyes widened as she watched him undress. Slowly. Watching her with narrowed, intent eyes.
The air in the bedroom heated, thinned, until she had to fight for breath. She sat on her knees, gripping the edges of her dress together, fighting just to breathe as each article of clothing was dropped to the floor, until he wore nothing but his own brazen sexuality.
Dear God. He was naked. All dark, sleek skin and toned muscle. Especially the bulging length of his cock. It was thick and hard, the head flared and appearing bruised, it was so engorged with blood. She couldn’t take her eyes from it, couldn’t stop the whimper that escaped her lips.
“First lesson,” he growled dominantly, his voice brooking no refusal. “Take your dress off and lay down on the bed.”
“Are you insane?” She repeated her earlier question.
“Most likely,” he bit out, his hand going to the engorged flesh rising between his thighs. She watched, mesmerized, as his fingers stroked the hard cock. “So it might be best to placate me.”