The Dare Collection June 2019. Rachael Stewart

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      His hands curled around my ankles and lifted my feet into his lap.

      My breath caught when my instep connected with the hard ridge in his trousers. ‘How much older?’

      Warm fingers trailed up my silk-covered calves. ‘Puccini holds my attention. Vivaldi equally so.’

      ‘Ah, you’re the stuffy opera-loving type.’

      His smile was a touch warmer but he didn’t look up from where his thumbs gently dug into my calves. ‘Something that lifts your soul can’t be stuffy. I’m also equally moved by a Bowie song.’

      His magic fingers reached the backs of my knees and lingered. I couldn’t help my gasp as heat lanced my body.

      When his gaze stopped pointedly at where I held the robe closed at my thighs my fingers tightened. I fought the urge to open myself up to him. Instead I wanted to dig deeper beneath his surface even though he’d clearly stated that he’d prefer me not to.

      ‘What else moves you?’ I asked, ignoring the breathlessness in my voice.

      ‘You. You move me, Neve, even when I don’t want to be.’

      The terse, unfettered confession strangled my breath.

      I cautioned myself against being taken in by it. We were living a fantasy. Closed off in a bubble of searing desire that had no substance outside these walls. It would be foolish to get carried away by anything that happened here.

      Anything that didn’t feed my goal to have Damian at my mercy.

      ‘Show me,’ I commanded. ‘Show me how much I move you.’

      His nostrils flared as I tugged on my belt. The hands cupping my knees tightened and his fingers dug in, adding another searing layer of lust to my already rampant arousal.

      His gaze fixed at the opening to my robe, probing as his hand trailed back down to ease off one heel. Firm hands caressed my foot, then raised it to plant a soft kiss on my instep. He trailed his lips over my ankle bone, up the inside of my leg to my knee before repeating the intoxicating course with my other leg.

      Damian shifted, hitched one knee onto the seat and arranged my legs on either side of his body. Then he prowled forward until his upper body was draped over me. Catching the sides of the robe, he slowly eased them apart, swallowed thickly as his gaze hungrily raked over me.

      My lingerie was authentic French lace and expensive satin, bought as a birthday present to myself. The moss-green material formed a corset that cinched in my waist and blatantly emphasised my curves with the tops of my breasts almost spilling free of it.

      ‘Jesus,’ he rasped hoarsely.

      ‘Do you like what you see, Damian?’

      ‘Bloody hell, yes,’ he replied in a strained voice, whispering his hands over the satin in a light dance over the tops of my breasts before rising to caress my neck.

      After a moment, his fingers dipped beneath the robe, slid it from my shoulders and down my arms before lifting me free to toss it away.

      He sat back on his heels.

      No longer restricted, I draped my arms over the chaise, and moved one foot towards his lap, shamelessly rubbing his rock-hard erection.

      His eyes squeezed shut, a pained grimace lancing over his features before he speared me with a sizzling stare. ‘Tell me what you would’ve done if I hadn’t come.’

      The unexpected question threw me, as did the possessive throb in his voice. I hadn’t quite taken Damian to be the possessive type.

      ‘Why?’

      ‘Because I intend to make it better than you could ever have managed on your own.’

      ‘That’s a bold boast.’

      ‘Tell me,’ he insisted.

      ‘I was going to listen to music, enjoy the champagne and canapés. I may or may not have had a reading of E. E. Cummings in mind. Then I was going to relish this chaise for a while before moving on to other things.’

      ‘What other things?’ he demanded gruffly.

      I bit the corner of my lip, hesitant to reveal my private fantasy. I didn’t plan on telling him that most of them had revolved around him so I made it up on the fly. ‘I had every intention of using a few of my toys to make myself come. But now you’re here...you get to participate. But first...’

      Eyes blazing with carnal heat hooked on mine. ‘Hmm?’

      ‘I want you to kiss me, Damian.’

      He didn’t need a second invitation.

      Hot, demanding lips fused with mine, his tongue breaching my mouth to slick erotically against mine. There was an edgy hunger to his kiss as he gorged on me. I started to reach for him but paused. There was something decadent and arousing about delaying the gratification of putting my hands on him.

      But that didn’t stop me from digging my heels in the seat, raising myself up and shamelessly rubbing my body against his. One arm banded my waist, effortlessly holding me against his rock-hard body as we simulated everything we intended to do to each other.

      Heat exploded in my pelvis as my hips ground against his. He groaned against my mouth. ‘God, you taste so incredible.’

      Sharp teeth nipped the corner of my mouth then licked it until I was moaning. He drew away and stared down at me for a terse little stretch before swooping down to plant hard, urgent kisses along my throat to the tops of my breasts.

      He levered up again, his eyes devouring me as his fingers moved determinedly to the corset fastening. With a hungry growl, he hooked his fingers into the cleavage and scooped out my breasts.

      ‘I’m not going to take this off. You look way too sexy in it, so I’m going to fuck you while you’re wearing it,’ he said, his eyes latching onto my tightly furled nipples.

      The need to touch him grew unbearable. I started to reach for him but he stopped me. ‘Stay there for another minute.’

      ‘Why?’

      He flashed me a surprisingly pleading look. ‘I can barely think straight right now, darling. I want this to last a little longer before things get a little too...crazy. I still have fucking blue balls from last night.’

      I mock-pouted and shamelessly arched my back. ‘Aww, poor you.’

      ‘Are you enjoying your torture, Neve?’

      I smiled a wickedly feminine smile. ‘You’re not allowed to ask me that.’

      One eyebrow lifted. ‘Another rule?’

      ‘Yes.’

      His head dipped to my cleavage and my smile disappeared. Eyes fixed on me, Damian drew the flat of his tongue over one nipple in a slow, decadent lick that lit a fuse СКАЧАТЬ