Impulse (28 page)

Her hands glided over his hips and onto his legs. She enjoyed the differing textures: the soft, fleshy buttocks, the prickling hair of his legs. Slowly she ran her palms
down the sides of his legs. Her hands curved around his calves and came back up the insides of his legs. He could not hold back the groan this time, and he gripped the bedpost so hard that his knuckles were white. He moved his legs farther apart, giving her freer access.

Angela played with him, moving her hands all over his backside, at one moment fast, at another slow, sliding featherlight up his legs, then firmly clutching the fleshy mounds of his buttocks, before teasing at the tender sac between his legs. When she grew tired of the play, she started in with her mouth, exploring his spine with her tongue. A sheen of sweat glistened on his skin; he tasted salty and delicious. As she feasted on him, her hands slid around him and caressed his chest and abdomen, blindly finding his hardened nipples and arousing them even further.

She realized that she wanted to feel his bare skin against hers. Quickly she stepped back and pulled off her dressing gown and nightgown. Naked, she pressed herself up against his back. Her nipples rubbed against his back as she moved up and down, and her hands were busy on his front. His manhood was hard and thrusting, it filled her hand boldly. He moved his hips involuntarily, heated and trembling beneath her touch.

There was a tremendous heat between Angela's legs; her loins felt like melted wax. She was aware of a growing need inside her, a yearning to be filled, to feel his powerful manhood inside her, stretching her, thrusting deep. Thinking of it, she nipped at his back with her teeth. He jerked convulsively.

“Please,” he murmured. “Kiss me, Angela.”

In an instant she was on the bed, kneeling to face him, her arms going around his neck. She kissed him
long and hard, consuming him, and he returned the kiss just as avidly.

“I want to be inside you,” he rasped. “God, Angela, take me in you.”

She drew back and looked into his face. His eyes glittered wildly; his face was ravaged by desire. She wanted to do as he asked, but a last vestige of fear would not let her give herself up to that. She shook her head. “I'm sorry.”

He groaned, leaning his head against his hands, but he made no protest. He simply watched her hungrily, his eyes examining her naked body. Angela realized with some surprise that she did not want to shrink away from his gaze. She enjoyed his eyes on her; the hunger on his face sent a thrill through her. Still, she thought, for his sake she should stop what she was doing. It must be torture for him.

“I should go.”

“No. Don't leave. I don't want you to stop.”

“But I'm afraid I am hurting you.”

“You're killing me,” he replied bluntly, his breath coming in ragged pants. He grinned. “But I'll die happy.”

Angela moved restlessly on the bed. She wanted more; something inside her ached for fulfillment. Yet she could not bring herself to let him come into her, dominating her, taking her over. He saw her indecision, and he must have guessed its source, for he said softly, “Will you let me show you something?”

“What?”

“I can help you. I can give you pleasure without coming into you.”

“Truly?” Her eyes widened wonderingly. She did not understand how, but then, she had never felt sexual
pleasure at all before, she reasoned. There must be many things she did not know. “How?”

He wet his lips, desire slamming through him at the eager look in her eyes. “I'll show you. You have to untie one hand.”

She looked at him warily. To untie one hand, she would have to release him from the post and untie both for a few moments. And he was pounding with desire. His eyes were wild with it; his skin was on fire.

He drew a calming breath, his mind racing. “All right. Look, take the other rope, the one you didn't use, and tie one wrist to the post with that before you untie the one binding both. Then you can undo the other one and move away from me on the bed as far as I can reach, to where I can barely touch you. Then I won't be able to hurt you. You can be away from me in an instant.”

Angela hesitated a moment longer, then said, “All right.”

Quickly she did as he had instructed, tying one wrist securely to the post, then undoing the rope that bound the two together. She scooted away from him on the bed. He held out his hand to her, stretched as far as he could, and cautiously she moved back up until he could touch her. He brushed his fingertips down over her stomach and slid them gently between her legs.

She flinched back out of his reach, startled. He did nothing, just waited patiently, and she returned. He let out a low moan, his teeth sinking into his lower lip, and his eyes closed.

“Oh, God, you are so ready for me.” He stroked the slick folds of flesh gently. “So wet.”

“You—you don't mind?”

He chuckled. “No. It feels good. Right.”

His fingers worked skillfully, separating the folds,
caressing and stroking, stoking the flames of her passion.

Angela let out a soft moan. She had never imagined that a man could touch her like this, that she could feel the heat that was pouring through her now. His finger moved inside her, startling her, but she did not mind. Her nipples felt engorged and aching, and she thought how nice it would be to have his mouth on them right now. Then his caressing finger found the tender nub of flesh at the very gate of her femininity, and she forgot all else. Moaning, she moved her hips, lost in the sensation, hardly knowing what she was doing.

Cam watched her, his eyes glittering, as her head lolled back. Her face was slack, caught in the grip of desire. His own passion was pounding through him, heightened by hers. He continued to stroke her, his finger pressing against the hardened nubbin. Angela jerked, a soft, mewling cry escaping her lips, and she moved helplessly against his hand, until finally she collapsed on the bed.

She lay for a long moment, curled up, too stunned to move. She had never felt anything like that, never even imagined it. Her passion had built until something seemed to explode within her, sending waves of pure physical pleasure pulsing through her. Now she felt incapable of moving, limp and thoroughly replete. She slanted a look up at Cam through half-closed lids. He was standing, leaning his forehead against the bedpost, both hands wrapped around the wood. His body was covered with a fine film of sweat, and his maleness was hugely, magnificently erect. She knew that he was fighting for control. A wave of pity washed through her. Now she understood what he wanted. She had felt the release she denied him.

“I'm sorry….”

He glanced over at her, a faint smile touching his lips. “Sorry? That wasn't quite the reaction I expected.”

“I didn't mean I was sorry for what just happened.” She stretched languidly, squeezing her legs together against the pleasant, faint throb that lingered there. His eyes followed her movement, fires in their depths, and she could not help but feel a twinge of satisfaction at the knowledge of how just the sight of her naked body could arouse him. “I was sorry for teasing you.”

“You mean as you're doing now?” he asked wryly, starting to work on his bond with his free hand.

“Yes. I must have a taste for cruelty.” She slid across the bed and rose to her knees, sliding her arms around him and pressing her lips to his bare shoulder. “I am cruel for leaving you in this state every night. Perhaps I should not.”

“Some night you won't leave me unsatisfied,” he said, his voice a trifle shaky. “And that night will make it all worthwhile. Besides, if you find you have a taste for cruelty, I have discovered that I have a taste for receiving it. I have enjoyed every second of what you have done to me the last two nights. I've waited thirteen years for this. I can wait a few more nights.”

Angela kissed him on the mouth. His free arm curled around her, pressing her against his body for a moment, then releasing her. She whispered in his ear, “Is this always what it feels like?”

He whispered back, “Sometimes it's even better.”

She smiled and kissed his cheek, then slipped off his bed and back to her bedroom. He watched her go, and when the door had closed behind her, he let out a heartfelt groan and leaned heavily against the post. He had not lied when he told Angela how much he had
enjoyed her explorations of his body. It had been the most pleasurable experience he ever had. But he was beginning to wonder if he would be able to survive the pleasure.

For two days he had thought of nothing but Angela and the delightful, frustrating things she did to him. His nerves were frayed to the snapping point, and he had had almost no sleep since he had thought up this experiment. He was beginning to wonder if he would survive long enough to see the end of his scheme.

 

Angela slid into her seat beside Cam at the breakfast table. Her face was glowing, and she was wearing one of her new dresses, a patterned yellow muslin that set off her fiery hair. Her eyes looked bluer and brighter this morning, her mouth softer, her skin more like porcelain. Cam felt himself hardening, just looking at her, and he was not sure whether he wanted to curse her or kiss her. Every time he saw her, he wanted her more. He was not sure how long he could continue.

Casting a sideways glance at Cam, Angela saw the tightness around his mouth, the shadows beneath his eyes. His skin was drawn tautly across the bones of his face, and his eyes glittered. He held his fork in a death grip. He looked the very picture of a man teetering on the knife edge of desire.

Angela leaned closer, laying a hand on his leg, and Cam jerked convulsively. He looked at her. Their faces were only inches apart. She could see the flames burning in the depths of his eyes.

She put her lips close to his ear and whispered, “Is our experiment only for night? Or can we continue it during the day?”

His fork clattered from his hand. He swallowed, unable to get a word out.

Angela went on, “I don't want to wait till night.”

She drew back, studying him. She wasn't sure if she had been too bold. Perhaps he would not like it. But from the moment she had gotten up this morning, she had been unable to think of anything but what she had experienced last night. She wanted to feel it again, and soon.

“You don't have to wait.” His voice was like gravel. He stood up abruptly, sending his chair scooting backward, and reached to pull out Angela's chair.

She smiled and stood up, putting her hand formally on his arm, and let him escort her out of the dining room and up the stairs. The closer he got to his bedroom, the faster he walked, so that by the time they reached the bedroom door, Angela almost had to trot to keep up. Cam swung the door closed behind them and turned the key in the lock, then began stripping off his clothes. He was completely nude before Angela had managed to undo the myriad buttons of her dress.

Cam took the two slender cords from a drawer in his dresser and handed them to her. Angela could see that he was already highly aroused. He sat on the bed, and she tied his wrists to the bedposts. Then she slid off the bed and began to take off the remainder of her clothes.

She could feel his eyes burning into her as she undressed, and she realized that she was lingering over the disrobing, enjoying the heat in his eyes. She emphasized each movement, sliding her stockings off with both hands, caressing her legs as she did so, and pulling the chemise slowly down over her breasts, letting the soft flesh swell slightly under the pressure, the
raspberry-colored nipples pop into view. The sudden audible release of his breath told her how much the teasing revelation had affected him.

She looked into his face. His eyes were aflame; she could almost feel their heat. Angela slipped off the last remaining garment and climbed into bed. She planted a kiss on the palm of his hand, then kissed her way all along his arm and onto his shoulder. She slid her fingers into his hair, and, holding his head firmly between her hands, she kissed him all over his face and neck and ears. Her lips touched him everywhere except his mouth, arousing his hunger to a fever pitch. Then, at last, her lips settled on his. He released a moan and kissed her desperately.

Angela straddled him and settled slowly onto his lap. His engorged maleness pressed against her intimately, no clothes between them. She slid down his body so that she could feast on his hardened nipples. Her own nipples were swollen and aching, and she realized how much she wanted to feel Cam's mouth on them. So she rose up on her knees, stretching up and bringing his head down to tantalizingly brush her nipple against his lips.

He smiled, his tongue coming out to circle the pebbled bud. Tenderly he caressed it, teased it, then fastened his mouth around it and suckled. Everything of the passion and hunger he felt for Angela was in his mouth, this one connection, his only chance at seduction. He loved her with his lips and teeth and tongue, moving from one breast to the other, at one moment gentle, at the next demanding, and at yet another time coaxing. He wanted to touch her, ached to feel her smooth flesh under his fingers. He thought of sliding his hand between her legs as he had done last night, feeling the dew of her passion
on his skin while he feasted on her breasts. He strained at his bonds, muscles bulging.

Angela closed her eyes under the onslaught of pleasure as little whimpers of pleasure escaped her. With every pull of his mouth, every stroke of his tongue, sensation raced straight down into her abdomen, as if he had plucked a chord. The tender flesh between her legs was engorged and throbbing, slick with moisture. Her loins ached, and there was an emptiness at the very center of her being. She moved her hips suggestively, hardly aware of what she was doing. She thought about him inside her, filling the emptiness, and for the first time, the idea seemed not scary, but inviting.

She pulled back. Cam groaned at the loss, following her, seeking her breast again. But she had moved where he could not reach her, no matter how hard he pulled against the cords.