Anew: Book Two: Hunted (29 page)

The thought is daunting. As new as I am to the world, I know
that true intimacy is exceedingly rare. Everyone wears masks. We reveal
ourselves only in guises suitable to the ever-shifting circumstances. Even when
we look in the mirror, we see not our real self but a mere reflection of what
we show to the world.

I want more with Ian. I crave it desperately.

But I can’t lie to myself. He is a man of fierce will and strength
who bears the scars of an old, unhealed wound. What he refers to as his demons
still exist. If I agree to what he wants, will I regret it? Or is this finally
the chance for us to face what haunts him together--and defeat it?

Not taking my eyes from him, I touch my mouth to his. His
sculpted lips are unexpectedly soft yet firm. His scent and taste envelop me. A
tremor runs through him, filling me with wonder at the effect I have on this
proud, strong, yet vulnerable man. His breath becomes mine. On a thread of
sound, I murmur, “I want that, too.”

Amelia

“A
re you sure?’ Ian
asks.

I can’t tell whether he is more pleased or concerned by my
response. Slowly, ignoring the frantic beating of my heart, I nod.

His eyes never leave mine as he rises and holds out his
hand. When I take it, he draws me up to stand beside him.

“I picked this suite for a reason,” he says.

At my quizzical look, he smiles and leads me across the room
to a set of double doors. When he opens them, I see beyond into what must be
intended as a dressing room. Every surface--the walls of built-in closets and
cabinets, the ceiling, even the fluted pilasters that define the space is
mirrored. Even the floor is covered by a soft reflective material, as I
discover when we step inside. I feel as though I have walked into a diamond.

I stare at our images reflected over and over, more times
than I can count, and from every angle. When he slips the black lace robe from
me, we are both naked. The contrast between our bodies could not be more
obvious. Mine has been honed by dance, leaving me very fit. But beside him I
look soft and yielding. Whereas he… he is simply magnificent, big and hard and
obviously once again more than ready for me.

 “Nothing hidden,” Ian says softly. “No secrets. No
limits.”

My stomach clenches as I unwillingly recall my own failure
to be as honest with Ian as he has been--and is being--with me. I have yet to
tell him of the memories that haunt me from the time before I was awakened.
Memories that I’m not supposed to even be capable of having. To speak of them
would give them even more power, a thought that terrifies me.

I push it aside and turn to him instead. Rising on tiptoe, I
touch my mouth to his and echo at least a part of his own words. “No limits.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You liked it when I smacked your ass in the elevator,” Ian
says. His smile dares me to deny what we both know. “It made you hot.”

A quiver of remembered pleasure runs through me. I could try
to forget the shocked arousal I felt when he did that but there isn’t much
point. Not considering that I’m face down on my knees on the padded floor of
the dressing room, my ass arched, my legs spread, and my arms stretched above
my head, my wrists secured by the belt of the black lace robe that lies
discarded nearby.

All of my own choice. Despite everything that has already
happened this evening, the unbridled sensuality of my nature shows no
inclination of being reined in any time soon.

He chuckles softly, his big hand stroking my bottom. “You’re
such an amazing woman, Amelia. To the world, you look so refined, even demure
but on the inside--” He eases a finger into my tight, wet pussy, followed by
another. Against my ear, he whispers, “Shall I make you come like this?” He
strokes me in a circular motion that hits my most sensitive spot. I groan
helplessly.

“Yes, no…I don’t know!” I’m frantic for release but I want
more. I want him.

“Poor baby,” he murmurs. “It’s hell, isn’t it, wanting to
let go completely but still afraid of what will happen if you do.”

I moan as he withdraws his fingers. My hips arch toward him
but he eludes me. In the next instant, the palm of his hand slaps my ass hard
enough that the sound reverberates off the silvered walls, startling me almost
as much as the blow itself. I jump and instinctively try to move away.

“Stay where you are,” Ian orders. “You’ll take exactly what
I give you.”

Another smack falls, followed quickly by a third. My legs
are shaking, the muscles of my stomach rippling. A treacherous warmth spreads
through me, at once shaming and arousing me. I don’t want to feel like this but
I’m not in control. He is.

Another slap lands, making me gasp. I’m so wet, so needy--

“Your ass is a lovely shade of red,” Ian says above me.
“Look at yourself.”

Given where we are, surrounded by mirrors, I hardly have any
choice. The sight sends a bolt of shock through me. Who is this woman? So
wanton, so submissive, for whom pain and pleasure have become intertwined?

“Don’t over-think it,” Ian says as our gazes meet in the
mirror. Once again, he seems to know exactly what is going through my mind.
“Just feel.”

His hand lands again, and again. Twice more. By the time he
stops, I’m a quivering mess of arousal and need.

“Perfect,” he murmurs. His mouth traces the fiery curve of
my bottom, first on one side, then the other. The caress is so boldly intimate
yet oddly tender. On the cusp of it, he gathers me to him and stretches me out
face down so that I am lying full length on the soft, springy floor. Some of
the strain goes out of my muscles but it returns when he murmurs, “Remember
what I said? I want all of you.”

“Ian--” I can hear my trepidation but under it is a whisper
of treacherous excitement that won’t be denied.

“It’s all right, baby,” he says soothingly. “I’m not going
to rush you. You need to be ready first.”

Ready? I’m grabbling with that, trying to figure out what he
means, when he steps away for a moment. I can hear him in the bedroom. He takes
something from a drawer and returns. Kneeling over me, his legs braced on
either side of my thighs, he spreads the cheeks of my ass. I have a moment to
consider how blatantly he handles me, as though I truly am his possession,
before I’m distracted by the sensation of something cool and wet dripping
against my tight, puckered opening.

“It’s lube, babe,” he murmurs. “You’re so wet I could just
use your own juices but I want you extra comfortable.”

I gasp as the tip of his thumb eases into me. Instinctively,
my muscles tighten.

“Relax,” he says.

I try but I’m vividly aware of my stinging bottom, the
strange sensation of being probed
there,
and the frantic pounding of my
heart.

After several long moments, he withdraws his thumb but the
respite is brief. At once, he arches me upward with an arm around my waist. His
hand reaches down, moving over my pussy, stroking my swollen clit. My belly
quivers. I can feel the first wave of an intense orgasm already beginning to
build. How many more of those can I possibly take?

Something smooth and heavy with a tapered tip eases between
my cheeks.

 “I’m going to put this in your ass, sweetheart, then
I’m going to fuck your cunt. You’re so wet, so hot, you want that, don’t you?”

His words are a dark temptation I can’t resist. Helplessly,
I nod. Slowly, carefully Ian strokes my opening with the tip of the plug before
easing it just a little way in. My breath catches. This is unlike anything I’ve
ever experienced. I’m not entirely sure that I can bear it but I don’t even
think of refusing. I want everything he has to give.

I moan softly as he moves the plug in and out, round and
round, each time a little deeper, stretching my tight channel. The sensation is
so strange--heavy, thick, a mix of pleasure and not-quite-pain that coils from
the base of my spine along every nerve in my body. As powerful as it is, it
can’t entirely eclipse the anxiety that is mounting in me. The plug is nowhere
as big as I know Ian to be but it’s enough to make the ring of muscle there
burn, leaving me to wonder how I could ever accommodate him. I start to squirm
until he presses a hand between my shoulder blades, holding me in place.

“Steady,” he says and pushes the plug the rest of the way
in.

My moans turn into a ragged gasp. I’m vividly aware of being
stretched as I never have been before--opened, exposed, made uniquely
vulnerable. I can feel the pressure of the plug in my vagina and against the
inner nerves around my clit. The need for release is building in me with
frightening speed.

Ian lifts my hips and spreads my legs wider. “Look,” he
orders again, directing my attention once more to the mirrors. Between the
reddened cheeks of my ass, an aquamarine crystal gleams. At the sight it, I
flush all over. I know without having to ask that he chose it because it
matches my eyes, just as a man more given to propriety might have picked out a
necklace or earrings. He’s adorned me
there
in an act that feels like
debauchery run wild, at once shameful and wickedly delicious.

Ian has his long, thick cock in his hand. He boldly strokes
himself as he holds my eyes in the mirror. Huskily, he says, “You look amazing,
sweetheart. I’m going to fuck you so hard. You’re going to come riding my
cock.”

Speech is beyond me. All I can do is stare at our reflection
as he moves behind me, grasps my hips, and positions his velvety smooth tip
against my entrance. Slowly but steadily he thrusts into me.

“Arrgh!” Between the plug in my ass and Ian’s thick, rigid
length stretching my soft inner walls, I don’t think I can bear this but I have
little choice. He controls me utterly, quickly setting a pace that has my
thighs quivering and my breath turning into groans. The slap of our bodies
coming together mingles with his deep grunts of pleasure.

“So good,” he murmurs. “So hot and wet and tight. I can’t
fucking get enough of you.” As he speaks, he takes hold of the plug and slowly
twists it.

Blinding white lights explode behind my eyes. I’m so close…

“Come for me, baby!” He thrusts hard, hitting the spot
relentlessly, and at the same time jolting the plug even deeper.

It’s too much. I struggle to hold on but I don’t stand a
chance. In the mirrored walls, I see a woman in thrall to the man whose
ruthless will is driving her toward sensual oblivion. The climax that hits me
feels as though it explodes in each individual cell of my body. Even as it
does, Ian doesn’t let up. He remains hard inside me, holding himself still as
my inner muscles spasm around him again and again. Slowly, he pulls the plug
out. I scream as my orgasm is prolonged, fresh waves carrying me even higher.

Distantly, I hear him say, “That’s it, baby, let go!”

It’s not as though I have a choice, nor do I want one. I’m
lost in a writhing maelstrom of sensation and need. His muscles ripple
powerfully as he bends all the way over me, his teeth closing on the nape of my
neck. The small stab of pain mingling with mind-shattering pleasure distracts
me for a crucial moment. The tip of his cock presses where the plug just was.
Slowly, steadily, he begins to enter me there, stretching me wider than seems
possible.

“Ian--!”

“Breathe, baby,” he says, his voice a rough caress. His
fingers find my clit. He strokes me with unexpected gentleness that washes over
my fear and carries it away. I cry out again as he sinks deeper but in the next
moment, the discomfort eases as an even more intense version of the strange,
thick pleasure that I experienced earlier takes hold. As he begins to thrust,
my hips buck upward, driving him even deeper into me.

“Fuck, yes” he moans.

His hand moves more rapidly over the ultrasensitive bundle
of nerves at the apex of my thighs that swell even further at his touch. His
cock stretches and fills me. I’m trapped under him, claimed and possessed, and
all I can think of is how free I feel. Every fear and inhibition is gone,
burned away in the fire of our mutual passion. My release comes as shockwaves
that tear through me, plundering my body and soul.

Ian rises above me, his head thrown back, cordons of muscle
bulging in his neck. In the mirrors, he looks like a demi-god, the epitome of
masculine power and will.

“Amelia!

He shouts my name as his magnificent body convulses in
ecstasy. Watching him come is the most beautiful and awe-inspiring sight I have
ever seen. I stare at him in helpless fascination until at last he slumps
against me. He stays like that for several moments, his chest heaving and the
pounding of his heart reverberating with my own. When he finally withdraws, I
feel achingly bereft.

I turn my head so that I can look at him but instead catch
sight of myself in the mirrors. My ass glows red, the cheeks spread wide by
Ian’s hands as we both stare at his come oozing from me.

The image is searing in its brutal, remorseless eroticism.
It’s more than I can bear. With a faint moan, I close my eyes and yield to
merciful darkness.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

A bright light shines in my eyes. I murmur in protest and
turn my head away, trying to get back to the blissful forgetfulness of sleep,
but it’s too late. Consciousness returns and with it comes a sudden rush of
memory.

Ian carrying me back into the bedroom and laying me on the
bed. Untying me and rubbing my wrists, touching his mouth gently to each where
my life’s blood pulses.

“You are so beautiful,” he murmured. “So passionate, so
giving. Fucking you is heaven.”

Through the haze of sensual fulfillment and exhaustion, I
smile faintly. How can he be at once so savagely possessive and yet so
romantic? I fell asleep as he gently wiped the traces of our passion from me.
In that moment, I felt exquisitely cared for, protected, even cherished.