A Lesson in Desire: Season of Desire Part 3 (Seasons Quartet) (8 page)

A sharp, burning sensation floods out over the sensitive bud and I gasp loudly.

‘Shhh,’ he says soothingly. ‘Don’t respond at once. Control yourself. Let yourself feel it.’

I bite my lip to stop any more sounds escaping, and close my eyes instead. The sensation of pain subsides, leaving a delightful throbbing in my nipple, and an answering clench below, where my sex is swelling and growing juicy. I can feel the mesh of my knickers getting damp as desire floods me. I open my eyes again. Miles moves the candle to my other breast and does the same as before, tipping it slowly so that I can watch the clear blob swell on its rim and then fall, encasing my nipple with a hot coating of wax. As I gasp and moan again at the stab of pain and the echo of pleasure, he pours a stream of wax down my cleavage towards my waist. Then he blows out the candle and puts it on the hearth.

‘Fire causes a change of state,’ he murmurs, ‘from solid to liquid, and when the heat is removed, the liquid becomes solid again.’

Miles brings his face close to my left breast. I can see that the nipple is covered in a white cap of wax. He carefully puts his forefinger and thumb on either side of it and tugs gently so that the cap comes off, making my nipple tingle with delight as it’s freed. Immediately he takes it in his mouth, sucking and pulling hard on the pert bud so that I can’t help moaning again. It’s beautiful. I had no idea my nipples were capable of giving me so much pleasure. The yanking pull of his mouth on my breast is exciting, making me move my hips in time with the deep sucks on my nipple. When it’s exquisitely tormented, he moves to the other, repeating the process of freeing it from its waxen prison and then sucking it into reddened torment.

When I look down, I can see Miles kneeling between my legs, his form dark against the flickering firelight, his head bent over my breast as he sucks it. I wish I could touch him and caress him but I can’t move my wrists from the side of my dress. I can only writhe with the effect of the wild sensations he’s causing in my body, and gasp with the intensity of what I feel. In my core, I can feel a mad longing building.

I have to have him. This need has to be slaked.

I want him to release my hands so that I can tear off his clothes, dig my nails into the skin on his back, find his hard length and pull it into my depths, where I’m so hungry for it. At the very least, I wish he would press himself against the swelling mound where my clit is already stiff against the gold mesh of my knickers, and give me a little of the relief I crave.

I mustn’t force it. I have to wait.

At last he releases my nipple with a tiny popping sound and turns his attention away from my breasts. Now he follows the waxen trail down between them, and his hand plays lightly around my belt and then at the silken ribbon of my knickers. I bite my lip again as he runs his finger under the ribbon, tantalisingly close to my mound but still so far away. Then he takes hold of the end of one of the bows I tied earlier and tugs so that it slips free.

I can’t help myself whimpering with anticipation as he folds the triangle of golden mesh gently away.

‘Oh, Winter,’ he murmurs. ‘You’re ready for me, I can tell. You’re learning very well about the transformative power of fire.’

‘Please,’ I say, my voice light and breathless, ‘I need more.’

‘All in good time. This is your lesson, not mine. Relax and surrender to it.’ His voice is low and hypnotic. I close my eyes and relax my head, letting the tension out of my body. ‘That’s better. Only when you stop fighting it can you begin to experience it.’

I know I’m not fighting anything, except my own desire and need to move things along at the frenzied pace my body is demanding. But I understand: Miles is dictating the order of events here, not me. The more I surrender control over what is happening, the greater the heights I’ll climb to.

‘There’s plenty to learn, Winter. No need to hurry it.’ His tone is gentle, caressing. Now his hand begins to play over me, touching me lightly, stroking me. I feel completely exposed to him, my sex now open to the fire and to his gaze. I open my eyes and see that he’s looking at me, his dark blue eyes fixed on mine. He smiles and says quietly, ‘I love to see the pleasure on your face when I touch you.’

The pressure in his fingertips grows as his hand roams over me. Now he’s touching the wet slit of my sex, trailing a burning zigzag over it. It feels as though his fingers are on fire as he moves them over me, toying with my need as the longing within me builds up to a frenzy. I’m lifting my hips to bring myself closer to his probing fingers, unable to prevent myself twisting them against his hand. I don’t think I can wait any longer. Then I feel him push his fingers between the hot lips of my sex to the entrance. He presses one finger hard inside me and it feels so good, it’s all I can do not to cry out. He slides it deep inside, letting it move effortlessly into the dark groove within me. Oh God, that’s all I want and more… He pushes another finger in and then another, stretching me as he presses inside, fucking me hard with his fingers. I want him, as deep and hard as he can give, and I thrust up to meet him. The fact that I can’t move my arms from my waist becomes unbearably exciting as I realise that my body is entirely at his mercy, and that I won’t be able to resist the pleasure that he’s intent on giving me. Now the ball of his thumb is on my clit so that as he fucks me with his fingers, the cushion of his thumb strums and rubs my bud, creating a point of hot pleasure under it. I’m gasping now, panting hard as my need for him increases. The heat from the fire seems to grow more intense as my sex gets hotter and needier. Miles’s hand plunges in and out of me, his thumb tweaking me with ever more exquisite pressure until I can take it no more. I tense and my hips buck. I can't help throwing back my head as I shout out, ‘Oh God, I’m coming, Miles!’

Then the pleasure explodes over my body and I can only surrender to its delectable convulsions until the boiling torrent subsides and I’m left, breathless and replete. When I open my eyes again, sighing happily, Miles is staring at me.

‘An excellent start,’ he murmurs, his eyes dark with desire. ‘Do you think you’ve learned a little about fire, Winter?’

I nod. ‘Oh yes. I’ve learned a lot. It… it turns solids to liquids with devastating effect.’

He smiles. ‘Very good. You’re going to be an A-grade student, I can tell. We’d better not leave it too long before your next lesson.’ He drops a kiss on my belly and then on each of my breasts and finally on my mouth. ‘But first… a little break.’

I’m feeling deliciously satisfied as we sit down by the fire with our glasses of champagne, still fizzy if not quite so ice cold as before. Outside, the day has darkened to a navy-blue night and the twinkling lights of Klosters are spread below us under their snow-capped roofs. In the distance, the mountains stretch away to great dark shapes clad in the shadows of pine forests.

Miles disappears upstairs for a few minutes, leaving me time to enjoy the view. When he’s back, I say, ‘Who did you say this chalet belongs to?’

‘I didn’t. It’s a friend of mine, called Dominic Stone.’

The name means nothing to me, but I nod politely.

Miles sits down and says, ‘May I say that you’re looking even more gorgeous post-lesson?’

I laugh, a little embarrassed as I remember that only a few minutes ago I was thrashing on the rug with Miles’s fingers buried deep inside me. The atmosphere is luxurious now, after my fierce orgasm, but still charged with tension. I might have slaked the first furious fires of my desire but I’m still hungry for the sight of Miles’s muscled body and the touch of his warm skin. ‘I have a feeling I don’t have any lipstick left,’ I say flirtatiously. My dress has been restored so that my breasts are covered again and I’ve retied the silk bow of my knickers. But my hair is most likely tousled and the high-heeled shoes are still where I abandoned them in front of the fire.

Miles is gazing at me with an unreadable expression in his blue eyes. Whatever it is, it makes my insides turn in lazy circles of lust. ‘Are you ready to move on?’

‘What’s next?’ I ask playfully, and take another sip of champagne. It’s loosening me up deliciously but I don’t want to get drunk and impair my ability to enjoy this sensory experience to the full. I remember suddenly how drunk Jacob and I used to get before we had sex, on huge bottles of Kristal and litres of iced Grey Goose. Then we frolicked around madly pretending we were having the best sex in the world when really we hardly knew what was going on half the time.

It didn’t have one quarter of the excitement I experience with Miles. One kiss from him is sexier and more arousing than a whole night with Jacob.

More and more I’m amazed by the very idea that I might ever have loved Jacob. He seems like a lifetime ago and the person who loved him is not the girl sitting in this beautiful chalet in front of a fire, dressed in an extremely sexy gown with the handsomest, most desirable man in the world sitting opposite. I stare over at Miles, who’s looking back at me with an amused expression in his eyes, his mouth twisted in one of those half smiles I like so much, and one dark eyebrow lifted just a touch.

He’s lovely. He’s everything I want.

The thought surprises me. So far, I’ve been entranced by Miles’s body and his overwhelming physical presence. At least, that’s what I thought. But now, as we look at each other with a kind of sexy conspiratorial amusement, I realise that ever since we’ve met he’s pushed my buttons in other ways. First, his arrogance disturbed and annoyed me. Then his calm capability and straightforward approach to saving my life made me feel safe and secure. His failure to pamper and indulge me riled me but really I wanted his attention: I wanted him to see me as a woman, not as the boss’s precious, untouchable daughter. Most of all, I wanted him to want me – not just as a sexual object but for something else.

My mouth goes dry with the realisation.

Oh my God. I want him to love me.

It explodes in my brain like a light flashing on in a dark room.
I feel stunned by the revelation and the next question follows like night following day.

So do I love
him
?

The idea sends me into a whirl of mad hope and wild confusion.

Won’t that make things very complicated?

But what am I doing here if I don’t feel something for him? Would I really come all this way, risk as much as I have, just for sex?

For my lessons,
I remind myself, and a voice replies in a knowing way,
Yeah – if you want to call it that.

I realise that Miles is speaking and I drag my attention back to him, still feeling dazed by what I’ve just been thinking.

‘We’re going to follow up fire with air,’ he’s saying.

‘Oh?’ I frown. ‘Air?’ I look towards the outside, where the temperature is clearly extremely low, if the crisp clear sky and the layers of snow are anything to go by. Does Miles want to make love out there? I’m up for most things but my skin goosebumps just thinking about it.

He sees where I’m looking and laughs. ‘Don’t worry, we’re not going outside. Not yet. I’m not thinking of cold air. Quite the opposite.’ He stands up, drains his glass and puts it down, then fixes me with a challenging look. ‘Follow me, Winter. It’s time for your next lesson.’

I get up, rearranging my drapery so that it fall seductively down my legs, and follow him as he turns and climbs the wooden staircase to the next floor.

We’re going to the bedroom?

That doesn’t seem very airy to me, unless he’s planning on opening the window.

But Miles takes me to a door I hadn’t noticed, and opens it to show me a small vestibule with a bench, hooks and shelves of white towels. On the far side is another pine door, this one with a small window in it.

Oh, now I understand.

I smile at him.

‘I see you know what kind of air I’m talking about, Winter. You’ll understand how suitable this is when I tell you that Aristotle categorised air as both hot and wet, as opposed to fire, which is hot and dry. It’s associated with blood and in pagan thought, its tool is the sword, probably because it is considered sharp and able to penetrate.’

I look around, almost as though expecting to see a gleaming weapon on the bench.

‘I don’t want you to take it too literally,’ he says softly, and that eyebrow rises again as he smiles. ‘Now, take everything off, put on a towel, go in and wait for me. Oh – and inside you’ll find a blindfold. When you’re settled, put it on and lie down.’

I nod. ‘Yes, M— Tutor. I’ll do as you say.’

‘Good. I’ll be back.’

With that, he goes outside to the hall and closes the door. When he’s gone, I unfasten my gown and step out of it. My cuffs are already gone, taken off by Miles when he untethered me earlier. The silken knickers fall away when I undo the ribbons and I’m quickly naked. After I wrap a towel from the pile around me, I open the second door and step on to the hot floor inside the small, wood-lined room. There are two levels of pine benches that run the length of the far wall, and in the corner a pile of hot, steaming rocks, a pail of water next to it with a wooden ladle beside it. The air inside is hot and dry with the tang of eucalyptus to it. I breathe, feeling the sharpness inside my nostrils as the heat hits them.

The Ancient Greeks were right – it is sharp.

I go over to the bench and sure enough, a soft white blindfold is lying there. I sit down on the bench and pick it up. My skin is already prickling in the heat, beads of sweat rising on my nose and legs as my body registers the temperature. I take the blindfold and put it round my eyes, tying into a knot at the back of my head. The dark is freaky and a stab of panic hits my belly.

Do I want to do this?

I’ve never worn a blindfold before and never understood why anyone would want to. Why put yourself at such a disadvantage? I’ve always wanted to be the seeker not the hider. I’m not sure I’m ready to take on this role.