The Pleasure Slave (24 page)

“Aye.” Tristan saw the wariness etching Julia’s expression, and it doused the fire within him to a low-burning ember. His arms wrapped around her waist to keep her from bolting. “Let me taste you,” he said. “Let me give you pleasure by using my tongue.”

Incapable of speech, she shook her head. Her legs locked together even tighter. If she moved a fraction of an inch, he noticed, her closed knees would ram into his swollen flesh.

He gently cupped her chin in his hands and tilted. “Julia?”

She didn’t answer, didn’t relax.

“I asked you before if you trusted me,” he said huskily. “Do you recall your answer?”

Somehow she managed a small nod. The very thought of him doing as he wanted sent shards of wicked desire pulsing between her legs. But…could she allow him access to her most private place? To look? Taste?

He slid his hands between her clasped legs, softly gripping her knees and pushing them apart. Then, hoping the familiar sensations might ease her, he urged two
fingers inside of her again. He felt the wetness that pooled there and almost came. It required every ounce of self-preservation he possessed to submerge his intense hunger.

“I’ll never hurt you, little dragon. Let me. Let me take you inside my mouth.”

“But what if you don’t like it?” she asked, finally voicing her fear.

“I will like it,” he said fiercely. “This I vow.”

The rich persuasiveness of his tone relaxed her, persuaded her to enter into the unknown, the feared. Bit by bit, she loosened the muscles in her thighs, giving him the access he craved.

“If you’re sure,” she said softly.

Her voice sounded drugged, breathless with passion, honey rich with uncertainty. He moved down, cupping her bottom with his hand and lifting her until her knees were braced atop the arms of the chair, her hands anchored to the top edge. His breath tickled the pink folds a second before she felt the heat of his tongue. He licked, caressed, moved against her, creating a dizzying friction. Her bones liquefied, her nerves sizzled, and at that moment, Julia knew she would never feel such exquisite agony again. Her ragged moans filled the room, mingling with the rumbles of thunder.

Her head thrashed from side to side, causing her hair to stream wildly down her back, and even that served as a stimulant. The silky tendrils caressed her heated skin, tickling, brushing.

Tristan pulled away.

“Noooo.” Her thighs tightened, trying to lock him in place and hold him to her until he fulfilled the need pulsing so steadily through her blood.

“Like it, do you?” He uttered a hoarse chuckle, but the sound soon became a moan. “I do, as well, little dragon.” Once more his tongue stroked, probed. “Never have I tasted anything so sweet,” he whispered against the dewy flesh. “So perfect.”

Trembling, she arched into him. “Mmm…” Speech was impossible.

So…much…pleasure…Everything inside of her burst. Flashing lights. Twitching muscles. This orgasm rocked her to the core, stronger even than the last. Unable to temper the effects of this powerful onslaught, she screamed his name.

“You’re killing me,” she breathed.

He’d never felt this savage, this…hot. “I need you, Julia,” he said.

“Yes. Yes.”

“You are so small. Are you prepared?”

“Do it, Tristan. Do it now.”

He lowered her, barely able to restrain his desperation, and placed her knees beside his thighs. With a roar, he surged up, burying his swollen flesh inside her and breaking the barrier of her innocence. She stiffened for only a moment, then fused completely against him. For an eternity, he remained unmoving, allowing her body time to accept his invasion.

For a moment, he felt her, not just her body, but her emotions, all the way to her soul. He felt her hunger, her
awe. Her need. They were one being, two halves that made a whole.

“Are you unharmed?” he asked, sweat beading his brow.

“I am the way I was meant to be. A part of you.”

His lips thinned with his strain to hold back. “Can you take more?”

“I’ll take everything you have to give.”

He pushed a bit deeper. She arched. Then he slipped all the way to the hilt. She gasped.

Perfection, he thought.

He began to move deep, deeper, lifting her up, pulling her down, just as he had with his fingers. Little by little, his rhythm began to quicken. Faster. Faster, still. He took her hungrily, almost brutally, pounding into her the way he’d dreamed these many nights. He could not control his reaction to her; he wanted her too desperately. She stripped him to his baser self, consumed him. A moan escaped his throat when she rotated her hips, taking him at a different angle.

“Do that again,” he praised.

“Like that?” She did it again.

He nipped her bottom lip with his teeth. “Just like that.”

Julia grinned wickedly, then quickly lost her smile on a pleasured moan. The width of his penis stretched her, but the feeling of completeness he evoked far surpassed any discomfort. He was a part of her now, deep and solid, his body one with hers, and the knowledge was more drugging than the most potent medicine. She’d dreamed of this moment, dreamed of being with
him, but her imaginings had paled in comparison to reality.

His hand reached down between them, found her clitoris and pressed against it. With the mastery of his fingers, he made her forget any lingering discomfort.

“Tell me how you feel,” he commanded hoarsely. “Tell me when you like what I do.”

He slipped in and out of her, increasing in speed, increasing in urgency, even as he continued the onslaught with his fingertips.

“I like…I like…” Her lower body moved with him, then against him, rising when he retreated, only to lower again when he surged forward. She couldn’t think, could only push toward more satisfaction. By God, she would never deny herself this pleasure again.

“Tell me,” he breathed. Faster and faster he increased his rhythm. “Do you like this?”

She opened her mouth to explain she’d reached the depths of heaven, but a moan tore from deep within her as she reached another climax. Molten sensations sent her spinning, spinning, faster, faster.

Feeling Julia’s inner walls tighten around his swollen shaft sent Tristan propelling over the edge, as well. Gratification, wholly male and infinitely powerful, sent a bestial roar of satisfaction ripping out of his throat before he collapsed into the chair, taking Julia with him. They were both spent.

When he was able to drag in a mouthful of air, he whispered into the silky strands of her hair. “Well, my little dragon. I guess you liked it.”

T
HE EVENING SHADOWS STREAMED
through the velvety curtains and sheers, hazy and erotic. The storm had passed, yet its dewy essence still encompassed the room. Only an hour ago, Tristan had carried Julia to bed, where lace draped the entire length of the mattress and held them in a private haven. He had sparked the hearth’s fire, and it now blazed with glowing embers, emitting lulling crackles every so often.

I will protect what is mine,
he thought fiercely.

By fair means or foul, he would not allow Zirra, or any woman for that matter, to steal his box. Nor would he allow Julia to be hurt by such attempts. Nay, he would not. Death would come first—theirs.

I will protect what is mine,
he thought again. Zirra had already proved she couldn’t call him back permanently. And her powers had not been strong enough to do any real damage to Julia, only her belongings. Still…

Realizing his muscles were tensing and readying for
battle, he forced himself to relax. He turned onto his side and curled his arm around Julia’s bare hip, fitting himself against her warm, sleeping form. He breathed in the lushness of her fragrance, and his eyes closed in surrender. His lips lifted in a half smile. He had kept his dragon busy for hours, introducing her to the many ways to make love. Beside him, astride him, standing. He had never enjoyed himself more.

With his other
guan rens
, he had reached sexual release, aye, but he had remained unsated. Always unsated, as if something were missing inside of him. With Julia, he had reached the pinnacle of contentment. She made him feel free, gave him glimmers of absolution. Did she still consider herself unworthy? He had pleasured so many women, but until now he had never before held such potent sensuality in his hands. No woman had ever responded to him so completely, all inhibitions forgotten. Before Julia, sex had become a monotonous game he had tired of playing. With her, he found utter contentment.

He
was not worthy of Julia.

As jaded as he was in matters of the flesh, this experience with Julia felt more real, fresher, than even his first time all those centuries ago. His fingertips traced silky patterns over her hip, then dipped lower to her bottom. The fact that he was Julia’s first, her only, filled him with a possessive pride he could not explain.

But I will not love her,
he added darkly. He would not allow his pleasure slave spell to be broken, for he did not want to return to Imperia alone. Quite simply, he re
fused to lose this woman he held. He uttered a sardonic chuckle. How ironic that he preferred to face an eternity of enslavement simply to be with this woman awhile longer, a small flash of time.

“Mine,” he muttered, tightening his hold on Julia.

L
IKE THE HOWL OF A BANSHEE
, the doorbell sounded.

Julia cracked open her eyelids and glanced at her bedside clock. Twelve thirty-four. Lunchtime. She was too content to eat. Or even move, for that matter. But the doorbell sounded again and she stretched, hoping to work the kinks from her naked limbs. Wincing at her soreness, she pushed out a breath and smoothed her hair from her cheeks.

At her side, Tristan stirred, instantly claiming her attention. A soft smile softened her lips. Inky locks of hair lay in disarray, framing his face. The length of his lashes cast shadows onto his cheeks, and a pink silk sheet draped the lower half of his bronzed body. And yet, he’d never looked more masculine.

With a drowsy, contented sigh, she kissed his jaw, always so smooth and devoid of stubble. He was so much more than she’d ever expected for herself, but she was finding that nothing less would satisfy her. For the rest of her life, every man she came into contact with would be judged against Tristan. No one could meet his standard.

I made love to this man,
she thought, awed, drawing in his scent that still clung to her skin.
Several times.
Peace fluttered inside her, a feeling she’d thought she possessed before—a sort of satisfaction with her life, an
acceptance. She’d deceived herself, convinced herself that her life was fine the way it was. Now she knew the truth. True satisfaction was only found in Tristan’s arms. With him, she felt alive, whole. Desired.

And Zirra might attempt to summon him back at any moment.

Julia’s smile faded. How could she protect him from a woman she couldn’t see? From a woman who resided in another time, another world? She just didn’t know. All she could do was keep his box hidden and hold on to him as tightly as she could.

Another round of bells chimed.

“If that is Puny Peter,” Tristan said, his voice sleep rough as he rubbed a hand along his jaw, “I will have to kill him. Slowly and painfully.”

“Not if I kill him first,” she muttered. Already her breasts were tingling, aching for Tristan’s touch as she considered all the ways she could “hold on to him.” He’d trained her body well, and now she was addicted to his loving, in every position, gentle or rough.

A pounding of fists accompanied the bell this time.

“Whoever it is, isn’t going away,” Julia said morosely.

“Is my box still secure?”

“Yes. I haven’t moved it.”

Tristan eased to a sitting position and tossed the sheet to the floor with a whoosh. “Stay here,” he said, giving her a lingering, wistful once-over. “I will neutralize this enemy.” He shoved to his feet and stalked to the bedroom door.

“Tristan,” Julia called, still lounging atop the mat
tress, not caring that her body was completely bared to his view. No, she felt powerful and well loved.

Without hesitation, he spun around. He gave her another thorough inspection, and need swirled inside his eyes, making the lavender glow like two supernatural orbs. “Aye.”

“Get dressed before you open the door, okay?”

He gave her a melting grin. “For you, anything.” Turning again, he strode from the room. With every step he took, she watched his tight, bare ass. Her mouth watered.

Smiling softly, Julia hopped up and gathered her clothing, then haphazardly tugged them on.
I am a well-pleasured woman.
She wanted to sing and shout with the joy of it. When she was completely covered in wrinkled jeans and a T-shirt, she padded barefoot to the front door. Voices, both male and female, filled her ears before she actually reached them.

Tristan, she noticed, was clad only in a pair of gray sweats, but at least his most important features were covered. His hands were clasped behind his back and his feet were braced apart. He had assumed a battle position.

“Let me in,” the woman demanded.

“Nay,” Tristan growled, his tone so sharp it could have cut glass.

Recognizing the woman’s voice, Julia rolled her eyes. “Faithie,” she said, inserting herself at Tristan’s side. “Is something wrong?”

“Yes, there’s something wrong,” her sister said, her eyes narrowed. “The barbarian here won’t let me in.”

Tristan flashed Julia a sheepish glance. “I am not
finished with you yet, little dragon, and do not wish an audience.”

She rolled her eyes again—though she wanted to sink into his arms—and stepped around him to clasp her sister’s hand. “Come inside. I’ll put on a pot of coffee.”

They strolled around a grumpy-faced Tristan and headed for the kitchen. Tristan followed, close at their heels. Within minutes, Julia had the coffee brewing and a deep, rich cinnamon-mocha aroma floated through the air.

“What happened to your house?” Faith asked. “There are holes in the wall.”

“I’m redecorating.” She didn’t elaborate.

Claiming the burgundy-topped stool beside her sister, Julia glanced at Tristan, who reclined at the table and had his arms crossed over his chest. He was watching her with heat in his eyes. She turned and regarded Faith, who was watching them both with twinkling amusement.

“What?” Julia demanded of her.

“Nice hickey,” her sister said.

“Oh. Oh,” she said, fingering her neck. Then very primly, very properly, she added, “Thank you. I’m quite fond of it.”

Faith’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “I swear you’re glowing,” she said, a mischievous sparkle in her turquoise eyes. “So…what have you two been doing? Besides redecorating?”

“Just what you are thinking, I am sure,” Tristan quipped.

Julia gave him and his sun-kissed chest a hungry—
not that she’d admit it—glare. All those muscles and that glorious skin were for her eyes only, and it didn’t help that he bore four scratch marks below each of his nipples and a little hickey of his own beside his navel. “Aren’t you cold without your shirt?”

“Nay.” Half-grinning, he languidly stretched his arms over his head. “I am not. I suddenly feel hot.”

Me, too,
she longingly added, and took a mental step toward him.

“Lord save me from horny adults,” Faith muttered, her voice heavy with wistfulness.

Julia was having trouble drawing her attention away from her lover.
I’ve got it bad,
she thought.
Real bad.
With regret and much effort, she schooled her features and faced her sister again. “I forgot to ask why you’re here.”

Faith hooked dark strands of hair behind her ears. “I came over to see how the rest of the date went, but no more words are needed, really.”

Speaking of the date…“Did you finish all your
lab work?
” Julia asked, her brows bowed.

“Of course.” Knowing she was caught, Faith studied her cuticles and gave a pouty little yawn. “Only finished up a few hours ago. Worked all through the night.”

Tristan sighed. “If you are going to stay, Faith,” he said, breaking into their conversation, “the least you can do is cook us some food.”

“No way,” Faith said.

“I’ll cook.” Julia filled three mugs with steaming coffee, then handed one to her sister, one to Tristan and saved the last for herself. Eyes closing in surrender, she
took a tentative sip, found the temperature perfect, then drained the rest. “I know it’s lunchtime, but I’m craving breakfast.”

“Sounds wonderful,” Faith and Tristan said in unison.

She peeked inside her fridge. “We have eggs and bacon, but no sausage.”

“I can live with that,” Faith said. “I’m starved.”

“Me, as well.”

Yet neither of them offered to help cook, she noticed. And that was probably a good thing. Faith didn’t know how to boil water, and if Tristan’s food was anything like his coffee…She shuddered.

Humming under her breath, she quickly fried the bacon, scrambled a dozen eggs, then browned and jellied several pieces of toast.

“That smells so good,” Faith said, eyeing the mountain of food as her stomach rumbled.

“Yours is coming up next.” Julia handed Tristan the plate. “If I don’t serve Tristan first, he’s likely to eat
me.
” As soon as the words left her mouth, she froze. Gulped. Remembered. “Uh—I mean…”

“No need to correct yourself, Julia,” he said huskily. His fingers brushed hers, sending stark awareness through every inch of her, and for a silent moment, they stared at each other, plate suspended midair.

When she was near, Tristan thought, he could only think of bed play. Right now, even though he had already loved her body thoroughly—several times—he wanted to fist her clothes in his hands and rip them away from her rosy curves.

“Later,” she whispered as if she heard his thoughts.

“Not later. Now.” He pinched the eggs between his fingers and brought them to his lips. As he chewed, he watched her. She watched him. And they both knew what the other was thinking. He gave her a wink, a sensuous sweep of his lashes and said, “You were right. I want to eat you, for I know these would taste so much better on you.”

Her heart slammed erratically in her chest.
Oh, I’m a wanton woman.
“Sorry, Faithie,” Julia said without sparing her sister a glance. “I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”

S
EVERAL GLORIOUS HOURS LATER
, Tristan nestled Julia against his side, their skin sticky with strawberry jelly. “I’ll never view breakfast foods quite the same way again,” she murmured with a satisfied grin.

“Nor I.” He smiled. Every moment with this woman offered a new experience. “For each meal I now consume will be compared to our buffet of carnality.”

“We should probably take a shower.” She swirled her fingertip in his belly button. “You’ve got jam everywhere.”

“First…” Suddenly serious, he rolled her onto her back and pinned her beneath him, her hands imprisoned above her head. Palm to palm. Breasts to muscle. “I wish to ask you a question.”

The change in position placed his growing erection right where he liked it most. Obviously, she felt the same. Heat flared in her eyes, and she uttered a sexy purr. “Ask me whatever you want.”

“What are your feelings toward me?”

Bit by bit, the heat cooled in her expression. She stilled. Looked away. “I care about you.” Her words were hesitant and heavily measured. “You know that.”