Sweet Seduction Stripped (21 page)

"You limp," I said, the first thing that popped into my head to start with.

His gaze came back to my face.

"It's not new," I added, and he swallowed. It looked painful. "The fight with Jaxon aggravated it, but I know it's an old injury. From your time as a POW."

His body relaxed slightly. Of course, he'd told me he was a prisoner of war, and that pain was a constant companion for him, and that explained my putting two and two together to come up with an old knee injury. What he didn't realise is that I knew what he'd had to do to escape.

It had to come out now; I had to say it. Or it would be a misunderstanding we would always have between us. And I was determined to not have any between us. Ever. Jaxon and I had never been honest with each other. He'd used me, manipulated me, had plans for me. And I'd led him to believe I loved him back.

I couldn't do that with Ric. He meant so much more to me. He was important. I already had a special place for him in my heart.

Bloody hell! Stop lying to yourself.
I was already in love.

I shifted in my seat to face him and the move must have made Ric realise there was more to come. He placed his utensils down on the side of his plate carefully and then lifted wary eyes to mine.

"It's a strange thing," I said softly, holding his gaze, giving him that connection, showing him I would not turn away. "How much I can remember of what I have seen. Often when I look at something I don't dissect it, I just see. It's not until I recall it, in exacting detail, that I
see
more than I saw at first. Does that make sense?"

"Yeah, baby, it does," he said softly, making me smile, despite the topic, from his tender endearment. It meant so much more from Ric, because I was thinking I meant much more to him. I was important to him.

He was in love with me.

"So," I went on, sucking in a breath of fortifying air. "Jaxon showed me an image." Ric's eyes closed, so I reached for his hand and laced my fingers with his.

I'm still here. I haven't run
.

"Tonight," I added. God, was it really just tonight? Ric's eyes flicked open. "Had me test it," I said, and recognition registered in Ric's face. "To make sure it was real, not Photoshopped."

He knew. He'd heard it all on that bug, still in my jeans pocket, but recording everything that transpired. He hadn't obviously been aware the image Jaxon had told me to check out had been
that
image, but he was joining the dots now.

"I tested it," I whispered. "It was real."

Ric looked like a man about to be condemned. Panicked. Frightened. Then resigned.

"But it also told a graphic story," I added. "I don't know what happened to you, but I do know it was over a long length of time. That it hurt. It damn near killed you. Exhausted you. And you have the scars to prove it today." I was thinking both inside and out. "And I also know you're a survivor. You did what needed to be done to get away. I admire that," I whispered, and he stilled. "I want that sort of courage. I want to be able to look in the face of death when it comes and say, fuck you! Like you did."

His head fell forward into his free hand, elbow to table, palm to forehead, eyes closed.

"I killed him, Amber," he whispered, so low and quiet I had to strain to hear. "You don't want that."

"No," I agreed, softly. "What I want is to be able to do it when there are no other options left. Me or him. I pick me. So did you."

He shook his head. "Sweetheart, I could have lasted longer. I didn't know at the time, but the SAS were just mere hours away. If I'd have waited I would have been rescued."

"And possibly killed in the ensuing battle to extract," I argued, a little more heatedly.

"You don't want this," he insisted, and I wondered just what he was referring to. Guilt?

"Do you want to know what I saw on
his
face?" I asked, desperation making me force the issue when perhaps he wasn't ready to accept.

Ric's eyes opened and his head turned towards me.

"I recall
everything
, Ric. Remember?"

Something shifted in his features, something wild and untamed and desolate. My heart sped up, my chest ached, and my mouth became bone dry.

I forced myself to keep going, praying I'd reach him. Hoping he'd finally have a measure of peace.

"He understood," I said, my voice cracking. I sucked in another breath and pushed on. "He knew he deserved it. He knew it was warranted, had been expecting it one day."

"You saw all of that?" Ric asked, his voice as scratchy as mine.

"I saw his acceptance. His acknowledgement of a just kill. He'd forgiven you before you'd even fired the weapon. Now it's time for you to forgive yourself too."

He stared at me, his chest rising and falling too quickly, his eyes too wide and panicked and desperate to believe.

"One more thing you should know," I whispered, lifting a hand to cup his clammy cheek. "I saw this picture and still I wanted you. I
ran
to
you
. I accept you. All of you. Just like you accept all of me and where I've been and what I've done and who I've escaped from."

He let an incredulous breath of air out.

"Amber," he said, shaking his head, removing the contact of my palm against his cheek. "Dancing in an exotic club and falling for a psychopath have nothing on murder."

My head was shaking right back at him.

"No, Ric. You've got it wrong. Lowering my standards just to ensure I could pay the bills and sleeping with someone I didn't even love but knew he'd provide for me have
nothing
on doing what needed to be done to survive a fate worse than death."

"You make me out to be a hero; I am anything but," he argued.

"Ric," I said with meaning. "You're
my
hero. You saved me." I paused, then begged, "
I need you.
"

The tension on the air shifted on those last three softly pleading words. Went from fraught and agonising, to wired and electrifying.

He licked his lips, his eyes falling to mine, his fingers clenching in my hand.

"You still hungry?" he asked, almost out of nowhere had I not seen the intention in his vibrant and excited eyes.

I shook my head.
Food, schmood.
I hungered for something else.

"Thank fuck," he rasped, pulling me to my feet, dragging me from the kitchen. Leaving our
untouched plates exactly where they were.

I followed him down the hallways until we finally made it to the safe room. He entered a code on the keypad, shut the door at my back and then proceeded to do something with the control panel beside us on the wall.

"You accept me?" he asked, once his attention swung back to me. I nodded. "You know me," he said softly. I nodded again. "You need me," he finished on a low, rumbling growl.

I nodded.

"Then, sweetheart." One hand up into my hair and tangling gently, the other wrapped around my back and resting on my rear, pulling me firmly against his arousal. "Show me."

I nodded
again
and started pushing him back towards the bed.

Oh, fuck me. I couldn't tell if that staccato rhythm pounding erratically inside my chest was from exhilaration, fear or just the plain and simple fact that I was so fucking turned on. This woman undid me. Absolutely stripped my defences and left me raw.

And I would go through it all again to see the conviction on her beautiful face. To hear the promise in her sweet words. To see the desire in those gorgeous eyes. I would flay myself open to have this again and again and again.

Amber Lane knew me. All of me. Hard as that was to believe, she did. She knew my worst secret. The one that haunts my dreams. She may not know everything there is to know, but that
one
thing is all that matters.

Because for ten long fucking years it's all that there's been.

And she knows it. And she understands it, maybe better than me. And she still ran to me, picked me,
wanted
me.

Oh, fuck. Was this heaven? Had I died and had all my wishes granted?

An angel, that's what she was. An angel sent to me, perfect in so many ways, to make up for what I went through in that cold, dank cell. To redeem me. Save me.

And, oh fuck yes, to wrap that sinfully delicious mouth around my cock and send me spiralling.

Oh, God yes! My Dancer knows how to give fucking fantastic head.

"Amber," I cried as she did something exotic with her tongue and the groove on the top of my cock, then added her fingers on my balls and just about exploded the top of my head off. "Baby, I'm too close," I warned and a small, but firm hand wrapped around the base of my cock and squeezed. Hard.

"Fuck!" Holy suspended ejaculation, this woman was going to kill me.

"Better?" she asked sweetly, her hot breath coasting over the tip of my wet head, making my shaft jerk in her still too tight hold.

"Uh," I managed inarticulately.

"Want some more?"

Yes, please. Oh, bloody hell what I wouldn't give to feel those lips on my...

Balls. She was sucking one of my balls into that wet void, rolling her tongue, flicking it lightly against the sac, and then moving on to the next one. My hands fisted in her hair, probably too fucking tightly, but right then if she moved away I'd scream bloody murder. And threatening Amber was the last thing I wanted to do.

"Baby, my cock," I pleaded.

"What, this?" she fucking teased, stroking an expert hand up the length and then back down again.

"Your mouth," I growled, jerking my hips up on each stroke, establishing a gentle rhythm, meeting her on each caress downward.

"Who is the boss here, Ric?" she asked, and I swear once I came, I'd be spanking her.

"Right now," I said on a hitched breath. "You are, sweetheart. You are."

"And when this is over?" she pressed.

I made a sound as her thumb pressed into the head of my cock, making me forget my train of thought for several seconds.

"Well?" she asked. The woman was a sadist.

Fuck me, I
was
in heaven.

"When this is over," I said, opening my eyes and lifting my head to hold her amused gaze. "I'm bending you across my knees and spanking you. Hard. Then I'm pressing you into the mattress, wrapping a hand up in all that glorious hair, not giving you time to comprehend what's happening or recover from a pinked up arse, and then fucking you senseless. That's what's gonna happen when this is over. Understand?"

"Promises, promises," she sang and replaced her hand with her so fucking hot mouth.

I came too quickly. Fuck! I should have made it last. I exploded inside her, coating her tongue, thrusting up and demanding she take all of me. As if she hadn't already stolen every inch.

No, not stolen, accepted.

I cried out her name to the heavens, already planning when I could get her to do the same thing,
exactly
the same thing, again. Hoping I'd last longer than a horny teenager next time she practically swallowed me whole.

Oh, fuck. For a second I couldn't remember where I was. What I was supposed to do. Then an angel appeared above me. A beautiful, stunning, miraculous angel... with a raised eyebrow and a smirk on her face.

"I'm the boss," she whispered, laughter in her tone that damn near brought me to my knees.

Perfect.

I smiled up at her. Hell, it was probably goofy, at least it distracted her. I'll pretend it was exactly what I'd had planned and not some sappy lovestruck grin that I'd be wearing for the next month or so. Or maybe the next ten years.

I flipped her onto her back, laughed at the shock on her face. No sappy crap in that wicked sound. Then moved us both to the edge of the bed. In one more quick and efficient movement I had her pressed chest down into the mattress to my side, with her pert butt teasingly arched over my groin, and one of my thighs pinning her legs underneath. With my left hand I stroked her hair softly, listened to the excited rasp of her breaths, and then twisted the strands of her hair lovingly around my fingers.

With my spare hand I smoothed over the cream, soft, succulent flesh of her perfect arse.

"Remember when I said in some things I am very, very bad?" I whispered huskily.

Her head moved in a nod under my grip. "Yes," she panted.

"Baby," I murmured. "Welcome to my wicked, wicked world."

The first smack made my whole body jerk. For a moment I wondered if I could do this. If I could allow him to spank me like this. Then his hand smoothed over the sting; tenderly, lovingly, carefully. And followed that up with a finger between my thighs swirling above my clit.

OK. That was better.

The finger vanished and
smack
,
smack
took its place. I whimpered, sucked in a breath of air and then moaned as Ric's finger sunk deep inside, his thumb now teasing my little nub.

"Like that, sweetheart?" he asked, and
God
did he sound so fucking hot. "Want more?"

I was nodding before I even realised the answer. He chuckled, smoothed my smarting butt cheeks, and then offered me another two quick slaps.

I realised they weren't hard, like he'd promised. But quick and light; simply snaps of his palm across my flesh. It stung, it made me gulp in breaths of air and then send me into a spiral of sensations when he finger fucked me, making me wetter and wetter with each pump.

"You're dripping, Amber," he growled. "Coating my fingers in your juices. Mmmm," he purred. "You taste good, baby." He was licking those fingers, enjoying making me squirm.

"Ric," I pleaded.

"Nah-uh, Dancer. You need to be spanked properly. That was the best fucking blow-job I have
ever
had. Baby, I want you to repeat that before this night is through.
Every... single... bit of it.
But, I changed my mind, you are not the boss here."

Another whimper. Another two smacks on my arse. Followed by pure unadulterated bliss. It didn't make sense. I couldn't decipher pain from pleasure. But I was coming before I knew it, probably within a minute of him starting this. And in a daze I felt Ric move me, kiss me soundly on the lips as he positioned me on my stomach, head turned. I blinked through the after effects of my release, watching languidly as he sheathed himself with a condom, then felt those wicked hands wrap up in my hair again and hold me tight.

I liked tight, I decided. It felt safe when done by Ric.

"You ready?" he whispered. I nodded. "I need you, Amber."

"I need you, too."

He groaned as he sunk himself deep inside, his shaft spasming as though he was about to blow even before we'd begun. He seated himself fully and refused to move.

"Nah-uh, sweetheart. You've got me strung a little tight right now," he said, when I tried to lift my rear and make him shift;
anything
to feel much needed friction.

"Ric," I pleaded.

"Love hearing you say my name like that," he murmured, lowering himself down to kiss my back. "Love having you under me," he added, with another kiss. "On top of me is pretty fucking hot, too," he admitted. "Your mouth wrapped around my cock is currently an all time favourite, let's see if we can change that, huh?"

I nodded eagerly, feeling his hold on my hair with every move.

"You need me," he whispered, just before he started to thrust.

I don't think he even realised he'd said it. An affirmation, a promise. A mantra that clearly meant so much to him; heating the blood in his veins, making him do the most decadent things to my body.

"Amber," he said, then repeated it. "My perfect angel," he might have whispered, but I was floating away, a climax stealing all reason, sending me flying off into space and desperate to never return. Ric did something with his hips, and a hand between my body and the bed, that made the orgasm last even longer.

By the time it finished I was a sated mess, being fucked hard into the bed by a desperate man. Little grunts and groans coming from the back of his throat, joined by growls and panted breaths. And then he came. Loudly, resoundingly, completely.

Collapsing on my back, breathing through shudders and somehow managing to stroke my side while kneading my head through the hold he had of my hair.

"It's a tie," he whispered, making a bubble of laughter erupt from my chest. "Your mouth, or your pinked up arse under me, as I come. A tie."

He rolled over to my side, dealt with the spent condom and then pulled me close to his chest, throwing the blankets over our bodies and making a cocoon.

"Did I scare you?" he asked, and there was weight behind the words. Concern. Fear.

"Not even a little bit," I admitted and let him study my eyes and face to determine the truth.

"You scare me," he whispered, and then ran his nose down the length of mine. It was such a sweet thing, but somehow it also turned me on. "I am crazy for you, do you know that?" he admitted. "You've flayed me. Stripped me. And all I am now is a man desperate for your love."

"You've got it," I whispered back, floating on a cloud of bliss, but nonetheless aware I meant every word.

"I'll treasure you," he promised. "I'll take good care of you. I'll give you everything I can."

I stroked my hand through his hair, the words such a solemn promise that I had nothing worthy of a reply.

"Sleep, beautiful angel," he whispered, kissing me on the nose, the cheek and then the lips. "Sleep." My eyes fluttered as though his words were a command.

"I'm lost," I think I heard him say, but sleep was swift in coming. "You've undone me," he might have added, but I was already gone.

Then a deep and familiar voice whispered in my dreams, "And I gladly surrender. Dancer,
you own me
."

My mind kept repeating those words.
Dancer, you own me
. Over and over again. Or maybe just in the few seconds before Ric woke me with a soft caress down my side and hot, wet kisses over my sensitive neck.

I climbed up out of the deep restful bliss of sleep, dream-fogged, body sated, to pitch black before my heavily lidded eyes, and Ric's persistent, but tender touch.

"What time is it?" I mumbled.

"Shhh," he murmured. "Don't wake up just yet."

I wasn't sure what he meant by that, but it must have still been the wee hours of the night, because he wasn't trying to haul me out of the bed for our "debrief" with Nick at seven. My eyes fluttered closed on a sigh as Ric's hot hand soothed over my naked back, curved over my butt cheeks and then worked its way back up again.

He was petting me. Stroking, skimming, brushing, and then as his hands rolled me onto my back like a limp noodle, I realised he'd decided to add fondling to the list of caresses. His finger circled first one nipple, then moved on to the next when he was satisfied with its hardening peak, and slowly worked his way in delicate swirls over my stomach and to between my legs.

It was thrilling and sleep was definitely no longer on the cards, but the darkness in the room and the late hour with lack of sleep and emotional exhaustion on top, made wakefulness impossible as well. I dozed through his ministrations, hummed my contentment with each touch, felt my body float, as though it was lifting off the bed with every single stroke of his fingers and palm.

I'm not sure how long he did it for. I may have entered deeper sleep at some stage, but I rose to wakefulness as he worked his way inside. His hands pressing into the mattress at the sides of my face, the heat of his chest warming mine, as his hips rocked between my spread thighs, inching his cock in, then withdrawing again, and then repeating it all over again.

I moaned.

"Shhh," he murmured again. "Don't wake up."

How could I not wake up to this?

I rocked my hips to meet him as he seated himself fully, but then he withdrew in a slow, sensual glide immediately. My hands moved to touch him and he shifted his to grip them, placing them above my head with one large clasp of his palm.

"Don't move," he instructed.

"Ric," I moaned.

"Just feel."

Oh.

His hips rocked in a primal rhythm, but so, so slowly it was almost too much to bear. I wanted more friction. I wanted more weight. I just wanted more. But he kept the sensual pace up; steady, rhythmic, pulsing, pumping, gliding, torturing. So fucking hot I was making all sorts of whimpering sounds.

I'm not sure how he achieved it, but he had me coming in the most exquisite release, breathing my joy and wonder all over his face as he hovered above me, rocking those hips continually, taking me through the orgasm and sending me soaring all over again. I thought I'd need more stimulation, hard thrusts or a hand between our bodies, finger pressing into my clit. But his inexorable pace, the slow, sexy glide of his hard length inside me, rubbing in just the right spot and never stopping. Relentless. Persistent. Beautiful. It was more than enough to send me spiralling out of control.

He shuddered above me, let a moan of pure pleasure out as his own release pulsated deep inside. His face came down to the curve of my neck and he kissed the skin on the side, where he'd first kissed it when this all started. Then his hand released my wrists, soothing down my arms and curling them against my body as blood flowed through the limbs once again.

I was tingling, panting slightly and trembling from head to toe.

"Shhh," he whispered
again
. "Sleep, sweetheart."

I made a sound as he pulled out, did something which I assumed was to do with the condom, and then curved his body around mine.

"Couldn't help myself," he murmured against my face as his arm wrapped around my stomach and he tucked me under his thigh. "I'm fucking perverted," he might have said, but the warmth of his body, the sated, floating feeling in mine, and the darkness of the room soon had me sinking back into sleep-filled delight.

I'd never been able to do that. Fall asleep after coming. Usually adrenaline rushed through my veins making my body alert and ready for action, floating in a way that tended to make me jumpy, as if I could take on an army or fly from a great height.

But I'd never been made love to like this. Softly, slowly, wrapped up in blissful darkness. Quiet murmurs, hot breaths, tender touches. It had been exquisite. It had been a true gift. Ric had given me something no man had ever been able to before.

I've been told I'm beautiful, complimented in many forms. I've had expensive purchases rained down on me. Great, mind blowing orgasms in every way, shape and form. I've even had one man tell me he loved me. But never,
never
, have I felt this. Had this.

It was precious. A treasure. And I fell asleep with a smile on my face and the warmth of a man who stole my breath away. Then filled me up with butterflies and dazzling light and all that is good in the world.

I was in love. And it was transcendent.

A light from the far side of the room woke me, followed by the sound of the shower running in the attached bathroom. Morning had come and with it the harsh awareness of what was in store. Tempered with a slight ache in my body that made me stretch like a languid cat in amongst crumpled sheets smelling of sex.

Today we'd deal with Jaxon and even that thought couldn't wipe the grin from my face.

"Now, I hope that smile is for me," Ric said, as he walked in the room drying his hair with a towel. He had another wrapped around his hips, hanging low, showing off impressive lower abdominal muscles, the path of his happy trail, and a chiselled chest that made me drool.

"I know
that
look has to be for me," he said with a smirk, flexing his muscles slightly and receiving a roll of my eyes.

"I bet you say that to all the girls," I grumbled as I rolled off the bed and headed towards the bathroom at his back.

I had to walk past him to get there. I didn't make it.

"There's only ever been one girl for me," he whispered into my ear as he pulled me close to his body.

He smelled of soap and sunshine, if sunshine had a scent, and him. My nose buried into his chest of its own accord and then I licked a drop of water off his pec, just because.

"We'll be late if you keep that up," he complained, but didn't stop his own path with his lips across my shoulder.

"
You
grabbed
me
," I reminded him. "And what do you mean there's only ever been one girl?"

His body rumbled with laughter and hot breath tickled my ear.

"Every time we talked on-line. Every time you wrote code and my programme picked it up. Every time I looked at a fucking computer screen, I got hard. For you."

Well, what could you say to that?

"Don't tell me you haven't dated in the past three years?" Yeah. That's what you
don't
say to that.

His laughter grew louder.

"Yes, I have dated. No, I didn't think of you when I was with them. But it still didn't make me stop getting hard when we talked on-line, you wrote code I located and I sat in front of a fucking computer. Not exactly the best response to have when you work in a small room, frequently filled to the brim with observant private investigators, and had a girlfriend waiting at home. Something had to give. So, more often than not, it was the girlfriend."