Heart of Ash (17 page)

It didn’t help that he was handcuffed to a chair in Emily’s living room.

She trailed her fingers over his cheek, his neck, his shoulder. And then she stepped back and reached behind her and— Oh. God.
Unzipped her dress.

He drooled as she shimmied out of the back sheath to reveal the most incredible breasts, encased in black lace. He nearly swallowed his tongue as the dress slipped further down to expose a garter belt, holding up fishnet stockings, and black panties.

“I…gah.” It was all he could manage.

She was, in a word, magnificent.

She kicked the dress away and stood before him in the sexiest outfit he’d ever seen. All that, and shiny black heels… His brain short-circuited.

His cock did not. It stood, stiff as a pike. Aching.

“I’ve been wondering…” she said.

“Hmm?” It took some effort to make his voice function. To come up with a word that cogent.

“Is this the punishment you had in mind?”

She cupped him as the words eased out. Ran her hand over his flank and across his hip and straight to his groin. And cupped him.

He nearly came out of his skin.

Shit.

Yeah.

Punishment.

“Emily…”

“Now now, Ash.” She drew back, but only enough to peer down at him. “You were going to let me use you, weren’t you?”

He gaped at her. “Use-use me?” Surely she hadn’t been serious about that?

Her expression made his pulse hiccup. Oh hell. She was. She was serious.

She cradled her breasts and smiled at him and he nearly swooned. He tugged at his bound wrists. Damn, he wanted to touch her, hold her, thumb that pouty nipple just visible through the lace.

“You know, Ash, there’s something I’ve wanted to try, ever since that morning at the cabin…”

She left the room and he tracked her frantically with his gaze.
Where was she going? Leaving him alone? Bound to a chair?
Maybe these were trick handcuffs… He fiddled with them, turning his wrists this way and that. But no. Damn it. They were real handcuffs. No release—

She returned carrying something. He froze when he recognized it.

“Do you like chocolate syrup?” she asked playfully, waggling the bottle.

“I-yes.”

“Excellent. Me too.”

His vision narrowed to a tight point when she knelt before him, slid a palm up his thigh and toyed with the hook on his slacks. When her hand brushed against his cock, he threw his head back and groaned.

She ignored him and focused on her task. Her tiny pink tongue peeped out. It drove him wild. Unzipping his slacks, she opened the placket, and looked up at him with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“Emily…”

She tugged down his briefs and his cock sprang free. She stared at it. Gulped. And damn if she didn’t lick her lips.

He nearly came right then.

“Emily…”

She picked up the bottle, merciless witch that she was, and drizzled chocolate all over his aching rod. He nearly went through the roof.

“Damn,” he squawked. “That’s cold.”

“Sorry,” she said. But she wasn’t. “Let me warm it up.”

He writhed in his seat as she did just that, spreading the sticky syrup all over his cock, fisting him, stroking him, smearing him with her special brand of sweet torment.

“Oh. I do believe I made a mess,” she cooed. He glanced down. Chocolate stained his best slacks. He couldn’t have cared less. All he saw was her fist circling his cock. The sight sent a vicious snarl of lust through to his solar plexus. He yanked at his bonds.

One would think, at such a moment, one would have superpowers. At the very least, powers strong enough to break the fuzzy pink hold on his wrists.

One would be wrong.

She shot him an innocent look, all pouty and fiendish. “I guess I’ll have to clean it up.”

“Em—”

She didn’t give him time to protest. She went up on her knees and tightened her hold, drawing his cock toward her tantalizing lips. She pumped him a time or two, with her breath hovering there, holding him on the knife’s edge of anticipation.

And then she licked him.

He might have passed out. Just for a second. So sharp was the pleasure.

“Emily.” A plea.

“Mmm,” she murmured. “I do love chocolate.” And she proceeded to prove it. Licking and lapping and sucking along the length of his cock. Tormenting him, teasing him making him squirm and growl and then, eventually whimper.

And then, when he didn’t think he could bear it any longer, she levered up, changing her angle. He dared not move, hoping, dreading, desperate for…

Ah.

God.

Yes.

She came down on him, sucking him in. Suckling him. Nibbling. And then deeper and deeper still.

“Mmm.” Her moan ricocheted through his body, an excruciating vibration.

She couldn’t take him all in, so she took him as far as she could and stroked him at the base.

His life, his world, his sanity, shrank down to that point of contact, that sensation, that agony of want.

He screwed his eyes shut, so he couldn’t accidentally watch. Seeing his cock disappearing between those ruby red lips would surely send him over the edge and he didn’t want to come. Not yet. Not now. Not like this.

He wanted to be in her. Come in her. Claim her. Take her.

He wanted to fuck her. Madly. Passionately. Wildly, as he had ached to do for far too long.

But she was ruthless, his mistress.

And, in her innocence, brutal.

She released him, but only to resume the agonizing licking and lapping. She was a diligent girl, his Emily. Determined to get every drop of that chocolate.

“You taste good,” she said, sitting back on her haunches. Chocolate rimmed her mouth, smudged her cheeks.

“Come here.”

But she didn’t. She just laughed and upended the bottle again.

He winced as the cold chocolate dribbled up the length of his cock. She put an extra large dollop on the tip. And then, God help him, she sucked him in again. This time, dabbing her tongue into the little eye while she pumped him.

As if that wasn’t enough, she stroked, cupped his balls, rolling them gently, smearing them with syrup.

That was what did it.

The thought, the vision, the fantasy of her tongue lapping at his balls, combined with the incredible sensations she was drawing in him, combined with the way her finger tickled one very sensitive spot down there—right where it counted—combined with the fact that he hadn’t come in nearly a month…

He exploded.

It was a rapturous release, flooding through him in a torrent, rushing, screaming, howling relief and pleasure. Hot, jetting passion.

She took it all. Took it all in, and then lapped up the bits she’d missed, swirled as it was with chocolate.

He collapsed in on himself. Unable to move, to think, to react as she gently undid her dirty work.

He was still panting, groaning insensibly, when she unlocked the handcuffs.

As soon as he could move, think, function, he yanked her into his arms and kissed her. Not a sweet, adoring kiss as he had pressed on her earlier, but a feral, hungry, forceful kiss, laced with vicious need.

He wanted to fuck her. Claim her. Take her. But he was drained.

Not too quiescent though. Not so drained that a little maggot could not crawl into his brain and nest. He pulled back and frowned at her.

She set her palm on his cheek. The dampness told him he now had a chocolate handprint there.

“Ash? What’s wrong? Didn’t you like that?”

“Oh, I liked it, all right.”

She blinked at his vehemence. “Then why are you angry?”

“I’m not angry.”

“They why are you frowning?”

“Where did you learn that?”

Her brow knit. “What do you mean?”

“That,” he flapped a hand toward the chair.

Emily paled. “I… Was it bad? Did I do something wrong? I should have known…” Tears welled in her enormous eyes. Ash’s gut clenched. He pulled her back into his arms and cradled her.

“Oh, no. No. It wasn’t bad, honey. No. Don’t cry. It was…hell, it was awesome. It’s just… Not very many women are that…creative.”

“Creative?”

“Adventurous.”

“Adventurous?” She cringed.

Shit.

“Experienced.”

“Experienced?” She pulled back to frown at him.

Her expression sent a shiver of disquiet shimmying down his spine. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re the only man I’ve ever…” She colored. “You know.”

He gaped at her. “What? What did you say?”

“Which part?”

“I’m the only…” The only man. Her only. Ever?

“Yes, Ash.” She tipped her head. “I thought you knew. I mean, when it’s a woman’s first time, doesn’t a guy just know?”

He snorted a laugh. “The only thing a guy just knows is that it’s a time. But shit. If I’d known…I would have made it better.”

“It was fine.”

“Shit.” He slapped his forehead. She’d said that, hadn’t she? 
Please be gentle?
He hadn’t made the connection. He was a moron.

“Ash. It was wonderful.” She smiled at him and he became tangled in the web of her beauty, her innocence.

Something swelled and prickled in his chest. His heart, perhaps, coming back to life. The tender ache surprised him.

He was the only man she’d ever been with.

This perfect, darling, tantalizing creature dressed in black lace and heels and smeared with chocolate. She’d tied him up. And sucked him off. And damn. He wanted her.

He wanted her forever.

As incomprehensible as it was, his cock rose again.

 “I want to make love to you,” he said, kicking off his slacks.

She took a step back. “But I’m covered in chocolate.”

“Perfect.” A growl. “I want to make love to you in the shower.”

He eased the strap of her bra off her shoulder and then the other, slowly revealing her. He stroked her breasts, thumbed her nipples and pinched them gently. Arousal rocketed through him.

“Strip,” he muttered.

She quivered as she complied, kicking off her shoes and her stockings, the garter belt and her panties. Her bra. They all fell on the floor, forgotten. He stripped as well and met her in a full-bodied hug.

Heaven.

Holding her was heaven.

He skimmed his palm down her back, from her nape to the gentle curve of her bottom, then sank his fingers in deep. She sighed and wriggled against him. “Let’s go to the bedroom,” she whispered.

“Let’s.” But he had to kiss her first. Consume her.

She tasted like chocolate and Emily and sweet perfection.

He tightened his hold as heat rose between them. Deepened the kiss.

A soft thud and a faint clicking sound registered on his brain, but he didn’t bother thinking about what it could be until something cold and wet touched his bare ass.

He squealed like a little girl and leaped back, grabbing a fuzzy pink pillow from the armchair to cover his naked crotch. He shot his gaze around the room and froze.

A herd of velociraptors regarded him curiously, heads cocked to the side.

No.

Not velociraptors.

Dogs.

And cats.

A lot of cats.

And kittens.

“Oh dear,” Emily murmured. “They got out.”

“Out?” he croaked.

She nodded and pulled on her dress and began collecting cats. “I put them in the spare bedroom while we were having dinner.” She shot him a naughty grin. “Chocolate isn’t good for dogs.”

“I…ah…right.” He followed her lead and pulled on his slacks. He felt too vulnerable, naked amidst her menagerie, with dogs eyeing him as though he were a flank steak.

“I should have known better. Li Shang is something of an escape artist.” She carried a bundle of kittens to the spare bedroom and set them on the bed, but before she could close the door, two of the kittens scampered out. When she headed for the older cats, they hissed at her and slunk off into the shadows.

A three-legged dog snatched up one of his Ferragamos and danced around the room, dodging back and forth to avoid Ash’s lunging grasp. A diminutive Yorkie, shaved bald in odd spots on his body, leaped up on the table and began licking the chocolate bottle.

“Oh, no!” Emily squealed. She dropped the cats she’d collected and ran to the table, snatched up the bottle and frowned at the Yorkie. “No no, Prince Phillip. This is not for dogs. It’s for grownups.”

And suddenly, Ash couldn’t help it.

As frustrated as he was, as
horny
as he was, this was pretty damn funny. He burst out in peals of laughter.

Emily stared at him. Her lips twitched. Then curved. Then a giggle escaped. And a laugh. And a howl.

They laughed until tears streamed down their faces and laughed even harder when a couple of the dogs started playing tug of war with Emily’s garter belt.

After she put the chocolate away, they sat together on the sofa, surrounded by fur balls, entrenched in tribbles. Just sat there. Together.

He tried to kiss her a couple times, but Beast, who was apparently very jealous, got it in his mind to join the party. Beast liked to French kiss and he didn’t care whose mouth he got into.

That made them laugh too.

And it occurred to Ash, he hadn’t laughed this hard in—he couldn’t remember when.

He did finally get her into the bedroom. He had to bribe the dogs with the leftover roast and then stealthily sneak her back there when none of the cats were looking. But he did it.

And he made love to her, worshipped her. Explored and delighted every inch of her soft, sweet skin.

Before he levered over her and eased his aching cock home, he made it a point to bring her to orgasm, screaming orgasm, at least three times.

That he counted.

He woke her up to pleasure in the middle of the night, tormented her until she was writhing, groaning, gripping his hair. That orgasm was glorious…for both of them.

He would seduce her the next morning too, he vowed as sleep claimed him. But Li Shang escaped sometime in the night and released his fellow prisoners. When Ash awoke, it was to find the bed covered with snoring critters, lounging hither and yon. He cuddled Emily closer and smiled.