Surrender to Fire: Maison Chronicles, Book 3 (9 page)

Then she noticed the knife. Light glinted off the curved blade.

Blood rushed to her head and she barely registered his words until his hand gripped her jaw and he came back into focus. “Camille, listen to me. This is not a cutting knife.” With his free hand, he ran the edge along his forearm, right in front of her face. Panic subsided, but just enough to listen to him. “The blade retains heat, baby.” He removed the hand from her jaw, reached for something on the table—a lighter, she saw—and used it to run flame along the metal blade. He touched it to his own arm, then moved it to her breast, letting it hover over her skin until she nodded.

Not hot, not really, the metal bit at her skin before warming it. “Okay.” Her eyes sank closed again, trusting him a little more. Wanting him more.

The knife danced around her skin, keeping her on edge and stealing all her attention. When the edge turned into a hot line curving around one breast and under the other, draping off her side, she gasped. The heat melted into her skin and then disappeared. Then the knife, the edge—then flat, quick swipes and long presses. Back to the line, hotter and burning deeper. Her skin pulsed like a hundred beating hearts everywhere his instrument touched her. Each throbbed in time with her clit.

He walked her up to the edge of pain, but never crossed the line, until ice skimmed from her collarbone to her navel. “Sir!”

His only reply was an evil laugh and a “Don’t move. And don’t even think about coming.”

Torture. That was the only way she could describe it. Hot, then cold, until she couldn’t tell them apart. Dueling blades of fire and ice and slashes of hot-cold-hot bisected her torso until her blood screamed for him to touch her.

Every exhausted nerve ending screamed for relief. “Sir, please,” she begged when his hot breath fanned across her navel.

“Had enough, sweetheart? I’m just getting started.” His smooth fingers skimmed her body, the new texture sharp against her skin.

“Please…” She couldn’t form her lips around all the words screaming for release in her head, part of that mind-spinning amalgam of sensation and temperature and raw, bitter need.

From a distance, his voice echoed. “Floating good and well, are we?”

Cam couldn’t reply—his body had descended upon hers, his fiery tongue lashing against her neglected nipple. Her stomach knotted and her thighs clenched, adding enough pressure against her center that she cried out.

Again, she begged, insensate babbling pouring out of her in a desperate bid for relief.

He cursed and leaned up, fumbled with his pants, then she felt him between her thighs, skin on skin. She arched up against his throbbing cock, its little twitches magic against her overly sensitive clit. If she didn’t come soon, she was going to cry or lose her mind, maybe both. She couldn’t think past getting him inside her.

“Look at me, sweetheart.”

With effort, she lasered in on him with her drunken eyes. “Yes, Sir?”

“Tell me your safe words.”

She grappled with the words for a moment, then answered.

“Do you want me to fuck you?” His hips jerked against her. Why was he asking useless questions? She could feel his arousal, knew he wanted her.

“Yes.”

The redundant answer seemed to satisfy him. His hand dipped toward the table, then returned with a condom.

“Awfully sure of yourself, hmmm?” Cam’s tipsy, insolent tongue ran away with her thoughts.

He tossed the empty wrapper aside, then positioned himself at her entrance. “Are you objecting?”

She shook her head and the room spun—or maybe that was from his cock invading her in short, sharp thrusts, just the tip, not enough to take the edge off her hunger.

Her legs clenched around his hips, pulling him closer.

His lungs shook from his exhalation. His jaw clenched. “Damn it, girl, you’re too tight. Slow down.”

But she couldn’t. Her hips writhed against him and she saw the moment he lost control, when his eyes went dark and intent. He fell forward atop her, bracing himself on one arm, then pistoned forward, a shock to her wet and needy cunt.

“Damien!” she shouted, clutching her arms around his neck, scoring her nails down his back. Taking him, marking him.

His free hand dug into her hip, the bite of pain searing straight to her clit. She tightened around his cock and he gasped. “So fucking hot,” he rasped into her ear. “So submissive to my touch.”

She had trouble arguing with that when it had gotten her here, orgasm blissfully within reach. “Yes, Sir” was all she could articulate.

His thrusts deepened until he bottomed out, the flash of pain mixing with the consuming ecstasy.

“Yes, come for me,” he gritted and she obeyed like a good submissive, her pussy rippling around him as she shattered. His hand clenched on her hip, until she felt bruised and deliciously used, then he groaned and thrust inside her one last time. His cock twitched against her sensitive tissues and his orgasm rippled across his body. His lips seized hers, sharing his passion.

They sprawled on the table, catching their breath. Damien’s heartbeat echoed through her body and hers slowed to keep pace.

“Oh my.” She inhaled, breathing in the musky, erotic scent of sex. “That was…”

“Yeah.” When he rolled to the side, her heart twitched at the loss. Cam squashed that feeling without mercy. Her night was coming to a close and she’d damn well relish what was left of it.

She waited for him to spring up, step back into his clothes and give her a quick wave as he headed out the door. And when he finally stood, she donned a wry smile. It had been an educational afternoon.

Chapter Seven

“How about a bath?”

Camille’s shocked look made Damien chuckle. With her black hair fanning around her face and her lips swollen from his kisses, she looked like a sex goddess, ready to rock his world—again. It hadn’t been that long since his last relationship, so he couldn’t blame it on having a fuzzy memory, but sex hadn’t been that good before. Neither had such a basic scene. Ice water, lighter, and putty knife—and that was enough to have her come apart in his arms?

Damien grinned. “I’ll take that as a yes. Stay right here and I’ll get everything ready.” He grabbed his boxers, then headed for the bathroom. The deep tub begged for him to linger in the bath with her, but he needed to tidy up after their scene in the cabin. After cleaning himself up and slipping into his boxers, he started the bath, dumping in a scoopful of the bath salts that perched on the side of the tub.

Damien returned to the main room and lifted Camille into his arms. He shouldn’t have taken so much pleasure from the way she felt against him, but he couldn’t help it. And the blissful sigh she gave when he dipped her into the warm bathwater? He would kill to hear that again.

Alarm bells went off in his head. As far as one-night stands went, this was one for the books, but that’s where it had to end. Wanting to hold her against him? Hear her sigh? Danger zone. While she settled into the bath, he cleaned up the table and his toys, then contemplated leaving. But then the vision of her long, curvy body beneath the water hit him. His dick hardened. He wanted her again, then he would call it an evening.

Once all the toys were packed up, he stripped out of his boxers once more and headed for the bathroom.

Gorgeous. The bathroom was stark white, with deep-gray accents. She fit the room, her raven hair splayed across the lip of the white clawfoot tub, her creamy skin spread under the water like an offering to Poseidon. With sleepy eyes, she turned her head to look at him, giving him an easy smile that set off signal flares in his brain. That was overshadowed, however, by the tight fist of arousal that clenched his erection.

“Back already?” Her words were still soft around the edges, like they had been while she’d floated in subspace. Yeah, she wasn’t a submissive—and he was Albert Einstein.

“I couldn’t leave you with just one orgasm for the night, now could I?” He neared, stopping at the edge of the tub. Her eyes locked on his bobbing erection and her delicate pink tongue licked her lips. Yes, he wanted to slip his cock between them, watch her eyes water as he fucked her mouth, feel her moans vibrate down to his balls. “Now scoot up.”

He stepped into the tub, his foot brushing against the outside of her thigh before she scrambled aside. He’d have to thank Kat for putting in an ample tub, but not one big enough that Camille could really escape him.

The water sloshed against the side and bubbles threatened to spill over, but Camille calmed and settled back against him before the waves got too bad. By degrees she relaxed until her back pressed fully against him. Her silky skin glided against him and he couldn’t stop touching her, running his hands along her arms. Reassuring, soothing, obsessed with her feminine feel.

Comfortable silence settled over them like a warm blanket. They lingered so long the water began to cool, but Damien didn’t move until she shivered in his arms. “Okay, sweetheart, let’s get you dried off.”

She looked over her shoulder at him. “Then what?” Her hand had been running up and down his calf—now it eased higher.

“Then I fuck you again.” His hands gathered her tits, thumbing the nipples that had hardened at his proposition.

Her eyes closed and she bit her lip. “Yes, please.”

He got out, dried off, then did the same for her. His patience evaporated as he toweled the water from her body, exploring every inch of her naked skin before shoving her against the bathroom wall to seize her mouth in a deep kiss.

Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling on his scalp in her need, as he swallowed her sighs. He hitched her leg up against his, exposing her to him. His cock nestled in her cleft, slick already with need. “You crave this, Camille,” he growled in her ear. A tremor worked through her body and her hips jerked against him.

A fresh wave of cream slicked against his cock. He didn’t want to fuck her against the wall—no, he needed her deeper than that. Grabbing one wrist, he pulled her from the wall, twisted her arm behind her and walked her from the bathroom to the bed.

“God,” she whispered. Her nipples tightened to diamond-like points.

Yes, she loved submission. Being manhandled, talked dirty to, played like the finest Stradivarius just did it for her. He pushed her face down on the bed, then lightly smacked her ass. “Hands and knees.”

She obeyed with sinuous movements that about undid the last of his control. He ached to bury himself in her tight pussy once more, but with her spread out like a feast, all for him, he somehow found the control to slow down. He curved around her body. “You want me to fuck you, right, sweetheart?”

Her “Yes, Sir” ended on a desperate whimper.

His hand burrowed between her legs, sliding across her pussy lips, bumping against her clit, then moving away from it before she could orgasm. He could see how closely she rode the edge. “Are you going to come for me?”

Camille nodded frantically into the bedspread, her hair sliding across her back to part on either side of her face. He bit the tender skin of her neck as he thrust one finger inside her. She clenched around him and cried out. Goose bumps pricked across her skin.

His balls tightened at her response. Some submissives played it close to their chests with a new Dominant, muting their reactions as if that would be more enticing. And, he supposed, some Doms loved the chase. He, on the other hand, reveled in Camille’s openness. Her unfettered arousal was more erotic than any restraint she could fake. Doing an orgasm-denial scene with her would be incredible to see. Not tonight, though—no, he wanted her to come hard and often, and give it all to him.

His fingers curved against her G-spot and she writhed under him. “What…”

Again, he brushed against that knot of nerves and her elbows collapsed onto the bed, thrusting her ass higher in the air. “That’s your G-spot, sweetheart. Feels good, hmm?”

She babbled—“Yes, ah, more, don’t stop”—and each breath made him harder. If he didn’t take her soon, he might just come all over her sweet ass. Not that he’d object to marking her with his come at some point, but tonight he wanted to feel her cunt squeeze around him—again—as she flew apart. He wanted to fill her with his seed so deeply that she wouldn’t easily forget about him.

Taken aback by his flash of possessiveness, he stumbled off the bed and took a few deep, settling breaths while he slipped on another condom.

Even with that little bit of time to settle down, he couldn’t deny the soul-deep desire to be memorable.

Setting aside that ridiculous instinct, he instead lost himself in the view. Her ass arched up, her thighs splayed open, exposing her spread pussy and her tight little asshole. The thought of taking her there, watching her squirm on his cock as she accepted his girth, shredded his resolve.

He wanted to spend hours feasting on her body, bringing her to orgasm with his fingers and mouth, tasting her come on his lips. He’d settle for piquing her arousal and bringing her right to the edge, then fucking her senseless.

Kneeling at the edge of the bed, bringing himself right to eye level with her spread thighs, he pulled her ass cheeks farther apart and watched her little rosebud clench. “Don’t move, sweetheart,” he ordered.

“What is it with you and holding still?” she groused.