Anew: Book Two: Hunted (27 page)

When I’m next aware, I’m still in the chair and still
trussed but the blindfold is off. Ian is holding me in his arms. Surrounded by
the comfort of his strength, I take a ragged breath, inhaling the scent of my
own body, of sex, and of him.

 “So good, baby.” He grasps my chin, raising it so that
I have no choice but to meet his gaze. A hard smile curves his mouth. “You’re
exhausted, aren’t you?”

Numbly, I nod.

He unties me, dropping feather light kisses on my ankles and
wrists as each is freed. I notice absently that the rope he used is red, like
my costume for Carnival. He’s planned this all out. I can only wonder what else
he intends.

When the ropes are gone, he stands easily and carries me
across the room, through a set of double doors and into an immense bathroom
dominated by an oversized spa tub that is already filling as we enter. As it
does, Ian lowers me onto a padded bench and gently removes my shoes. The thigh
highs follow, each one peeled down my leg inch by inch and over the arch of my
foot. When he’s done, he straightens and quickly strips off his clothes.

I swallow with difficulty, helpless to do anything but watch
him. He looks like ancient Greek statues I’ve seen but far better endowed. His
broad shoulders sweep down his long torso to narrow hips defined by the perfect
V so aptly called the Adonis line. The muscles of his flat abdomen flex as he
moves. Naked, he lifts me in his arms again and steps with me into the tub.

The hot water stings at first but it quickly becomes
soothing. The stiffness in my body eases. My eyes drift closed.

“Better?” he asks. He is holding me in front of him, my back
resting against his chest. As I nod, he anchors his feet around my ankles and
pulls them apart, opening my legs and spreading them wide. “Just relax,” he
says. “Let me take care of you.”

My murmured response turns into a soft gasp when I realize
that he’s positioned me so that a jet of water spurts against my sex, still
exposed by the gold ring. He cups my breasts in his roughened palms and
squeezes lightly. I shift on him, feeling his erection prodding my bottom. All
thought of needing rest evaporates.

Catching each of my engorged nipples between a thumb and
forefinger, he pulls and tugs lightly. The sensation rockets straight to my
groin, heightened by the pulsations of water striking my swollen,
hyper-sensitive clit. Together they bring me to the edge and hold me suspended
there. I try to close my legs but Ian won’t allow it. He slides a hand behind
me and slips two fingers into my opening, thrusting slowly and rhythmically.

“Your cunt fits me like a hot, tight glove,” he croons in my
ear. “So wet, so good.”

I stiffen. He’s never used that word with me before. I know
that some people think nothing of it but for others it remains deeply
offensive. For me, it’s simply confusing. Why here? Why now? My sense that
something is wrong grows stronger but before I can focus on it, he finds the
ultra sensitive spot inside me and increases the tempo of his strokes. The
muscles in my belly spasm. Only Ian’s powerful body supporting mine keeps me
from slumping under the water as yet another orgasm hits me.

“I wonder how many times I can make you come,” he muses as
he removes his fingers and lightly kisses the lobe of my ear. His next words
send a shiver of mingled shock and excitement through me. “Let’s find out,
shall we?”

Ian

A
melia trembles in my
arms. She must be wrecked or close to it but I don’t even consider stopping.
Distantly, I know that something’s wrong with me. I just can’t manage to care.
Nothing matters except the burning, relentless hunger for her that consumes every
ounce of reason that I possess and turns it to ash. I want her, all of her, in
every possible way, endlessly. Before I’m done, there won’t be a shred of doubt
in her mind that she belongs utterly and irrevocably to me.

But I meant what I said to her earlier, I take very good
care of what’s mine. I don’t question my need to soothe and pamper her any more
than I do my right to fuck her where, when, and how I choose. Right now she
needs the first but afterward--

I squirt body wash into my hands and begin rubbing it over
her starting with her long, slender neck. It’s so delicate, like the rest of
her. She has a dancer’s body, willowy and slim except for her breasts, which
are just a little large for her frame. I smile, thinking how much I adore her
breasts. I imagine my cock sliding between them and bite back a groan.

“How does that feel, baby?” I ask.

“Good,” she murmurs. She’s struggling to keep her eyes open
but it’s a losing battle. A little sigh escapes her as she surrenders to my
ministrations.

I could keep this up all night, savoring the sight and feel
of her beautiful body, but the need to fuck her is too urgent. Reluctantly, I
tear my hands from her and wash myself. When I’m done, I lift her from the
water, wrap her in a warmed bath sheet and pat her dry. I make a point of
touching every inch of her, partly because I enjoy doing so but also because I
want her to understand how completely she is mine. Her eyes flutter open as I
untie the gold labia ring and set it aside. The look that she gives me suggests
that she isn’t as tired as I thought.

I knot a smaller towel around my hips and pluck a robe off
the back of the bathroom door. It’s little more than a froth of black lace
that’s enticing against the creaminess of Amelia’s skin. She slides it on with
an all-over blush that’s delightful.

Gazing at her, I have to remind myself that patience can be
its own reward.

Taking her hand, I say, “Let’s get some food into you, baby.
The night’s still young and I don’t want you flagging.”

The hotel staff has followed my instructions to the letter.
In the small frig in the bar are plates of high energy foods--roasted nuts,
slivers of whole grain bread, slices of smoked salmon and trout, fruits, and
bite-sized bits of dark chocolate. I bring them to the round table along with
another bottle of champagne.

Amelia hesitates when I hold out a chair for her. “You must
be hungry,” I say softly, urging her to sit. She does so after a moment but not
without a wary glance in my direction.

I can’t help smiling. She looks adorable with her erect
nipples peeking through the black lace robe, her skin rosy from the bath, her
lips swollen, and her eyes heavy-lidded in the aftermath of multiple orgasms. I
uncork a fresh bottle of champagne and fill our glasses. I’m pacing myself but I
want her nice and relaxed for what’s coming next.

Before I sit down, I go over to the balcony doors and open
them. The sounds of sensual revelry spill into the room on the night air. As I
join Amelia, the sharp, desperate cry of a woman rises above the wail of a sax.

She stiffens and takes a quick breath. Without looking at
me, she asks, “How long does this go on?”

“Carnival? This is just the first night. There are three
more to come.” At her flash of alarm, I barely hold back a laugh.

“Isn’t that…excessive?” she asks, flushing. “It can’t be
good for people to--”

I top off her glass while she’s speaking. “To what? Eat,
drink, and be merry while fucking like animals? Think of it as an outlet for
impulses that could be a lot more destructive if they weren’t released from
time to time.”

She looks up at me through the fringe of her lashes. Her
eyes are smoky and unreadable. It bugs the hell out of me that I don’t know
what she’s thinking.

“I’m surprised that you’re so cavalier about it all,” she
says, “especially in the light of what’s happened.”

“I’m realistic,” I say, correcting her. Before she can
reply, I gesture at the food on her plate. “Enough talk. Eat.”

I can see how conflicted she is but I’m also fully aware
that she hasn’t asked to leave. That bothers me on some level I can’t quite
grasp but at the same time I’d glad of it. I’m pushing her hard and it’s only
going to get more intense. She should be walking out the door but instead she’s
sticking with me. I can’t help but wonder why. I only know that I don’t deserve
it.

Amelia lifts a ripe red strawberry to her lips and sucks on
it before taking a bite. Watching her, I lose track of whatever it was that I
was thinking. The next half-hour or so passes in a blur. We eat and I keep the
champagne flowing. Whatever I say, I must make some kind of sense but damned if
I know how. All I’m aware of is Amelia, the tilt of her head, the curve of her
mouth, the glimpses of her body through the black lace. The way my cock reacts,
I’d think that I hadn’t had her in days instead of just a short time ago.

I hadn’t meant for that to happen in the elevator. I’d just
intended to tease her but seeing her come in the alley shot my self-control to
hell. Even now, it’s all I can do to wait until I’m satisfied that she’s eaten
enough before I push my chair back and hold out my hand.

“Come.”

Her gaze narrows. She looks as though she’s trying to decide
whether or not to indulge me. Not quite what I’m going for. What I want is her
obedience but I’ll settle for what I can get--for the moment.

She stands, gathering the lace robe around her and puts her
hand in mine. At her touch, a spurt of raw possessiveness burns through me. I
pull her closer and draw her out onto the balcony.

It’s well past midnight but Carnival is only getting started.
Crowds are in the streets--dancing, singing, fucking, whatever. We’re too high
up to make out the details, which is just as well. As shocked as Amelia was
earlier, I can’t imagine how she’d react now that the serious debauchery is
underway.

Speaking of--

I put her in front of me so that she’s pressed against the
wrought iron balcony railing with her back against my chest. With one hand, I
clasp her hip, holding her in place. With the other, I reach around and undo
the belt of her robe. As it falls open, she stiffens and turns her head to look
at me.

“Relax,” I tell her. No one can see us.” I had the foresight
to close the balcony doors behind us, blocking out the light from the black
crystal chandelier. We’re standing in shadows but with a clear view of the
building on the other side of the street.

The floor-to-ceiling windows of an apartment directly
opposite us are lit up, providing a clear view of the party that’s going on
inside. It’s almost like watching a holo-vid except it’s real. An orgy is underway
with all the usual variety available at any such event. Front and center,
framed by one of the largest windows, a woman is servicing two men. An
appreciative audience has gathered around them, cheering and urging them on.

Amelia’s quick inhalation of breath turns into a shocked
gasp when I lift the hem of her robe and stroke a hand between her thighs,
finding her soft, wet cleft.

“Something bothering you, sweetheart?” I ask innocently.

The woman across the way is writhing as though she’s loving
it but I suspect that it’s more a case of her being a good actress. A worker,
probably, hoping to move up by acquiring the right patron. It’s happened more
than anyone wants to admit. Half or more of the elite families in the city
count such women in their genealogy. High end escorts, courtesans, mistresses,
whatever the politically correct term is. I prefer to think of them as ladies
with initiative, able to bend a corrupt system to their own ends.

I include my father’s forbearers in that. We Slades are a
handsome bunch thanks in large measure to women who made a living with their
bodies before becoming doyennes of the Junior League and the country club.

“You wanted me to see this, didn’t you?” Amelia says. Her
voice is soft and feathery, due in no small part to the finger I’ve eased into
her cunt, stroking her inner walls.

“See what, sweetheart?”

She shakes her head impatiently. “You know perfectly well
what. Across the street.”

I laugh and add another finger. She’s so wet and hot,
absolutely perfect. My cock is rock hard under the towel still wrapped around
my hips. It’s raring to go. But not quite yet. First, I want her overwhelmed
with need, too far gone to resist what I’ll demand from her when we go back
inside.

“That woman…those men--” She lets out a moan and clenches
around me.

“What are they doing, baby? Tell me.”

“They’re…using her.”

Now that’s interesting and more than a little gratifying.
She’s aroused, her body can’t hide that. But at the same time, she clearly
disapproves of the impersonal, objectified fucking that she’s witnessing.

 “The lady had plenty of options tonight if she wanted
them,” I say, shrugging. “She knew what she was signing up for. But that kind
of scene definitely isn’t for everyone.” Bending closer, I suck the lobe of her
ear into my mouth and bite just hard enough to wring a soft yelp from her.
“You, for instance,” I say as I remove my fingers and toss the towel aside. A
moment later, the head of my cock is pressing into her, just the first inch or
so.

“Ian--” She’s breathing hard, leaning back to take more of
me. The lips of her sex are warm and wet, clasping me.

A powerful tremor runs up my spine. Harshly, I say, “You’re
mine, Amelia. Admit it. I’m the only man you want fucking you.”

I’m taking a chance. Her ability to say ‘no’ to me is
essential to our relationship. Without that evidence of her own free will, I
wouldn’t be able to touch her and still live with myself. But at the same time,
I want her to admit who owns her. Screwed up, I know, but that’s how it is.

She’s silent long enough for my heart to constrict. Finally,
after what seems like forever, her head droops, exposing the vulnerable back of
her neck below her upswept hair. I have the sudden sense that she’s trembling
on the brink of telling me something. But when she speaks, she says only, “You
are, Ian. The only man for me.”

It’s enough. Her honesty is more than I deserve but exactly
what I need. Driven by it, I surge into her, bending her forward over the
railing and thrusting into her. Across the street, the orgy is reaching its
peak but it’s got nothing on us. Amelia’s urgent cries spur me onward. I want
to be deeper in her than I’ve ever been, possessing her utterly. I want her to
feel me in every cell of her being. To recognize me as the other part of
herself, the only man she can ever belong to.

The city and the night throb with carnal energy but I’m
hardly aware of it any more. Only Amelia exists, only she matters. Nothing in
my life has equipped me to deal with the emotions she unleashes. But at the
same time she makes me feel more complete than I would ever have thought
possible.

We come together in an explosive release that rocks me to
the core. It’s all I can do to hold onto her as I spurt again and again into
her sweet, welcoming body. My satisfaction is savage and primal if far from
complete. If it takes all night, I want her overflowing with my come, marked by
my scent, mine irrevocably and forever.