Close Up and Personal (15 page)

Chapter 14

James’s car is waiting for us as we arrive outside, and he opens the door to allow me inside. I am expecting him to jump on me the moment the doors are closed. But instead
he sits upright, looking straight ahead.

I sit next to him wondering once again what is going on
in his mind. How can he be so hot one minute and cold the next? A moment ago we were in each other’s arms, staring into one another’s eyes. Now he could almost be a work colleague sitting next to me.

The car starts up and he leans in close, his mouth brushing my hair. The smell of him is intoxicating.

“Is that a favourite dress?” he asks. I turn to him in confusion.

“No,” I reply.

“Good,” his voice is low, silky. “Because I am going to rip it off that gorgeous body of yours just as soon as I have you in my bed.”

Oh.

I feel my body respond to his words.

“It is taking every ounce of my self
-control not to touch you now,” he adds. “My hand is itching to slide into that delicious wetness which I know is growing between your legs.”

I close my eyes for a minute, hoping it will prevent my blush from being too obvious. How does he know that? I suppose my face must show it all.

Outside, the bright sweep of London Bridge comes into view as the car pulls onto it.

“But I want every part of you ready for what I am about to do to you,” he concludes. “So I will not dilute the experience before we reach my apartment.”

He turns to face front again, and I am left, red-cheeked beside him. My body, ever the traitor, is already imagining what will happen once we are inside his apartment. My mind is another matter. The turmoil of what it means to be involved with James Berkeley is dimly beginning to register. I am not sure if I can survive it.

The car pulls up into the cobbled street of the apartment, and James comes around to help me out of the car.

After a few curt words to the driver, he performs the complicated code needed to open the sealed door and half drags me over the threshold.

He pulls me against him for a moment, giving me a long
kiss which tells of things to come. Then he presses the elevator door and leads me inside.

The doors close noiselessly
, and suddenly he has me by the hips, pushed back against the wall. His hands slide up underneath my dress and round to hold my behind. His mouth is on mine, and his hands squeeze. Hard. I let out an involuntary groan and his kiss presses deeper, more urgently. My behind is torn between the pleasure of being held and the slight pain of his tight grip.

The doors open and he releases me. Then, before I know what’s happening
, he scoops me up into his arms and carries me into his apartment, using his free arm to open the door.

In a few strides we’re in his bedroom, and this time, instead of throwing me, he lowers me gently onto the bed.

He stands for a moment, looking at me.

“Isabella,” he says. His voice has changed from the lust-charged whisper in the cab to something more like concern.

“Are you sure you want to do this?”

I nod. Lying back there on the bed, arousal coursing through me, there is nothing I want more than for this beautiful man to take me as his own.

“I told you before that you make me gentler,” he says, and there is something soft in his voice. “We have already worked on your body, Isabella. It won’t be painful for me to be inside you.” His voice chokes slightly as he says this, and then he steadies himself. “But I want you to know that emotionally, I care for you.”

Wow. This is unexpected.

I nod, not knowing what to say. Do I care for him too?

But before I can analyse my response to his words
, his mouth is against mine, taking me in a long kiss, and his fingers are unbuttoning my dress.

“I said I wanted to rip you out of this,” he murmurs, as the buttons loosen under his expert fi
ngers. “For now, just seeing you naked will be enough.”

I gasp as he pulls the dress over my shoulders, and then his hand snakes around my bra, popping the strap in an easy movement.

His hand floats over my breasts, barely touching the skin. I respond, arching my back into his touch.

Then his fingers travel down.

“Take of your shirt,” I gasp, realising he is still fully dressed. He hesitates for a moment and then loosens the first two buttons of his shirt and pulls it free over his head. He unbuttons his trousers, and for the first time, I catch a glimpse of what’s to come.

Whoa
.

He sees the fear in my face.

“You have nothing to be frightened of, Isabella,” he says, his voice hoarse. “My fingers have stretched you sufficiently to accommodate me. And I will be gentle. You have my word.”

He tugs off his boxer shorts, freeing his erection, and my doubt turns to genuine
terror as I see the size of him.

“I won’t hurt you,” he promises, catching my expression.

I swallow and nod, trying to believe him.

There is the ripping sound of a foil packet and I realise he has snatched a condom from some hidden place near the bed.

There is a movement I can’t see as he rolls it onto himself.

Then h
is fingers tug apart my thighs, and he is positioned between my legs. I feel him resting there for a moment. His eyes are staring into mine, and his hand moves to caress my cheek. Then, in a sudden movement, he pushes forward, and he is inside of me.

Oh my God
.

The feeling is heavenly and frightening at the same time. The stretch is not painful – not quite – but it feels dangerous.

“Are you ok?” he’s still staring into my eyes.

I nod as the warmth washes through me. The pressure inside feels as though he’s discovered out new nerve
endings which I never knew existed.

He pushes forward again, and this time there is discomfort
. Pain, almost.

I wince, and he pulls back slightly. The pain vanishes, leaving only the sweet feeling of pleasure behind.

“Am I hurting you?”

I shake my head.

“Was I hurting you before?”

It feels so strange to speak to him when he is inside me like this.

“A little,” I admit, flushing at the feeling of him as I’m talking.

He lifts me a little and props a pillow under the arch of my back. He’s still inside me and the change of angle brings another thrill of pleasure.

“We’ll try it this way,” he says. “Is it painful here?”

“No.”

It feels amazing.

“Jeez
, Isabella,” his eyes are closed suddenly, his expression pained.

“You can’t imagine how much I want to
thrust hard into you right now.”

My face must have showed fear.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures me. “I promised you I’d be gentle.”

He begins to move, slowly, and the feeling of pressure building up is unimaginably good. With every gentle thrust he hits some internal part of
me which pulses with pleasure.

I want more, and I groan as he begins to move a little faster inside of me.

He responds with a sudden hard thrust, and I cry out in the pain of it.

James stops and leans close to my face, moving his hand to cover his mouth.

“If you want this,” he whispers, “you can’t make any noise. Not the slightest sound.”

I stay immobile. I don’t know if I can promise this. The noise was involuntary.
A sheer unchecked cry of pleasure. It came from some person I didn’t know existed.

“Hearing you moan with pleasure is the sexiest thing I have ever heard,” he says. “If you make another sound I can’t be sure that I’ll be able to help myself. I might be rough with you. Do you understand?”

At this, I do nod, although I’m still not sure how I’m not to make a sound.

“Shall I keep my hand here, like this?” He asks. I nod again, my eyes wide and timid
with his hand covering my mouth. He begins to thrust again, but gentler this time.

As he
pushes into me, his movements begin building into an unstoppable rhythm. I can feel deep inside me that his control is expertly judged. Just the slightest bit harder would cause me pain. His tight movements are designed to maximise my pleasure.

Within his measured strokes I feel a sudden urgency build within him. He’s close to the edge. The thought thrills me with desire
. It brings with it a new urge to cry out, to have him hammer into me, to hurt me deep inside.

The thought shocks me and excites me at the same time. With him inside me, his hard body against me, the smell of him, it is impossible to think rationally. I feel every carnal urge rise up and demand to be sated.

I make a small whimper beneath his hand and I feel the sound charge him into a final thrust, pushing deep inside my body. It brings an exquisite mixture of pleasure tinged with pain.

A shock wave of
the sensation ricochets through me, and then he sinks his fingers into my hair and explodes into me in a final cry.

He
lays on top of me, his hand lost in my hair, his cheek pressed against mine.

Then he raises himself slightly upright, and looks into my eyes. His gaze is confused, wary almost.

“Isabella,” he gasps, still panting. “I have never… It has never been this way.”

I stare up at him, not knowing what to say, and he catches my mouth in a long kiss.

Then he pulls out of me, rolling off the condom and positioning himself more upright on the bed, so he can look into my face with greater ease.

“I would have liked to make you come,” he says.

I feel my cheeks redden, knowing that I didn’t have an orgasm. The combination of sensations, the newness of it all. It was all too much.

“Do you think you can come during sex?” he asks gently.

“I… I don’t know,” I admit. “It’s a different feeling, from when you touched me before.”

He smiles down at me. “Isabella your body is extremely heightened to an orgasmic response. Have I made you sore?”

The question comes as a surprise, and I mentally assess the area he means.

“No,” I say, marvelling at the truth of it.

Between my legs feels like hot and pulsing light. But it doesn’t feel painful.

He considers for a moment.
Then, very gently, he parts my legs.

His hand brushes my cheek, down to my neck. Then he moves forward, allowing his lips to touch against where his hand is.

The sensation on my skin is so incredibly light. But the feeling it awakens inside of me is anything but. He pulls away from my neck and I stare up at him, wanting him to see the desire in my eyes.

“Then perhaps we should try again,” he whispers, “now you are more used to the experience.”

Already?

To my amazement
, I feel him hard against my thigh again.

“You see the effect you have?” he says, with a slight smile.

This time he pulls my legs forward so they are propped on his hips as he reaches for the condom and rolls it over himself.

He is kneeling between my legs, his knees spread slightly apart.
My bottom half is raised towards him, and he holds my thighs in place with a hand under each.

“This is going to be deeper,” he warns, “I
am going to feel you come, Isabella, whilst I am inside of you.”

He reaches his hands lower to come under my buttocks, and grabbing both, heaves me closer. Then with a final pull, he roots himself deep inside me, deeper than anything I’ve ever felt.

“Oh God, Isabella,” he moans, shunting forward even further within me. The sensation brings a jolt of pleasure-pain electricity. “I am looking forward to fucking you hard.”

This isn’t hard?

The depth of him inside me is terrifying. Although I have to admit it doesn’t hurt as I feared it would.

Staring into my eyes
, he licks his thumb, and brings it to flick fast over my clitoris.

I arch my back and feel myself squeeze tight around him in the sudden unexpected pulse of sensation.

He moves slowly in and out of me, keeping his thumb at that determined pace, moving so fast the feeling is almost too strong.

“Aaah,” I moan, feeling myself tighten in another squeeze. Part of me wants to explode into this feeling and part of it is so intense I am not sure I can handle it.

His thumb slows, and he leans forward to kiss me tenderly on the mouth, tugging gently at my bottom lip with his teeth.

“You didn’t think I would let you finish that fast did you?”

His tone is teasing, and I think back to the tango, the relentless back and forth, tease and release.

Is this how
it would be with him?