“You can only use your hands,” I said, throwing his carefully selected word back in his face. “That should be adequate.”
I expected him to push back, but all he did was tilt his head. “All right. To clarify, no oral sex.” He pushed away from the wall, and as he moved closer, shadow fell across his face. “But I am allowed to use my mouth elsewhere. Agreed?”
There was a worried voice in the back of my head that I promptly silenced. “Fine.”
He gave a conquering smile as he sat on the lounge beside me. “Do you think you’ve hindered me, Sophia?” He skimmed his knuckles across my cheek, and his eyes, which never seemed to miss a thing, swept down over my face, zeroing in on my mouth. “You may think you’ve taken away my only weapon, but I have so many more.” He leaned in and whispered it against my lips. “Eleven twenty-two.”
I was already succumbing to his magnetic pull. “What?”
“My hour starts now.”
ELEVEN
MACALISTER
SOPHIA WAS VISIBLY NERVOUS. Anxiety tensed her shoulders and kept her posture stiff, which I found fascinating. I was the one beneath the clock, but if her apprehension was over losing to me, then it wasn’t misplaced.
This was easily the smartest wager I’d ever made.
If I won, not only would she tell me who she wanted named in DuBois’s book, but I’d get to be the first man to give her an orgasm, and I loved nothing better in this world than being a woman’s source of pleasure. In the unlikely event I lost, I’d get an hour of almost total rein over her body.
And what a body she had. The mouth that went with it was another story.
I despised the way she’d taunted when she called me Daddy, but what was more troubling was my own reaction to it. A warped and twisted delight lingered even after her fetishized word had dissipated.
It had pushed me beyond sense, and the spanking I’d delivered escalated far beyond what I had intended. The desire to discipline and correct had been my original goal, and then abandoned at the wayside the very moment my cock had grown hard.
My selfish needs had taken command, and I’d been weak enough to let them.
Sophia had alleviated much of the ache she’d created tonight, and thankfully, now I was back under control, my mind firmly in charge. I was displeased I’d let myself get into this situation, but happier now with the turn of events.
I’d allow myself to indulge, as long as I remembered this was all there’d be. One night of indiscretion was easy to write off, but it could not happen again.
She sighed when I brushed my lips against hers and softened further when I kissed her in earnest. The meeting of our mouths worked to dispel her anxiety one layer at a time, like fingers unlacing a corset. Each slow stroke of my tongue freed her more.
Yet kissing her was . . . worrisome.
After Julia, I viewed kissing as a tool. It was an act to be performed by the man and experienced by the woman, and I typically used it to deepen my level of seduction. Kissing was the most effective way to establish who was in control.
But whenever my mouth was on Sophia’s, I hadn’t a clue who was leading our kiss, or who between us was in charge. It was disorienting, leaving me unbalanced. Kissing was supposed to be a device. A checkpoint to pass on the way toward a sexual encounter. But with her, it had feeling—it had its own version of pleasure.
I kissed her with no motive or agenda, other than I enjoyed the way she kissed me back. I surrendered to the experience, rather than be the one driving it. Thankfully, my competitive nature, which had been lurking in the back of my mind, cleared its throat to remind me of my responsibility.
I used my body and my kiss to drive her down onto her back, and her golden hair fanned around her on the lounge’s cushion. She looked so young and untouched, staring up at me with her big eyes. Why did she stay, when she seemingly knew every awful thing about me? She’d sought me out when she should have run the other way.
I didn’t apologize for the things I’d done, not even the terrible ones. For most of my life, I’d been incapable of admitting a mistake, and now it was too late. I didn’t see the point. If you broke a glass, an apology would not put it back together.
I balanced over her on my arms, and her warm hands distracted me from my thoughts when they dove inside my open shirt, roaming over my chest. A teasing look filled her face. “You realize you’ve already wasted ten minutes kissing me.”
Irritation at what she’d implied clamped my teeth together. “I did not find the last ten minutes wasteful, Sophia.”
Her brow furrowed in dismay. “I didn’t mean it like—”
The statement died as I sat back from her, peeled off my suit coat, and tossed it aside. I trapped her under my gaze as I went to work undoing my cufflinks, dropping them one by one to the floor with a quiet ping, each followed by a short skitter.
Then I set a foot on the floor and rose onto the knee of my other leg, halfway off the chaise lounge as I stripped off my shirt and discarded it. The way her gaze traced over my bare chest and down my arms caused pride to warm inside me. I’d done the best I could under the circumstances for the last two years and had hoped for admiration from her, but she gave me something far better in return.
She stared at me with unfiltered lust.
I savored it until her gaze settled on the silver watch on my wrist.
The clock is ticking, Macalister.
The firelight cast flickers of orange and yellow across her nude body, and I leaned over her, setting a hand beside her head for support. It left my other hand free to begin. My touch had an enormous effect on her, and I would use that to its fullest advantage tonight. I trailed my fingertips down the column of her neck and watched how her chest lifted in a deep breath.
Her lips parted when my palm smoothed over her shoulder and down her arm. I teased with my caress, sliding my hand over the flat expanse of her stomach, carving a path down her body as if I were brushing away all the others who’d tried and failed what I was going to accomplish tonight.
When I reached her knee and began to move back up, I appreciated the way her legs subtly parted for me, and I rewarded her action by brushing my thumb along the inside of her thigh. Up I went, sliding over her smooth skin, inching toward the slit between her legs. Her eyelids fluttered closed in anticipation.
I veered my hand away at the last moment, continuing its journey upward, and I enjoyed how her eyes burst open in surprise. She’d thought I’d slide my fingers over her clit or perhaps push two deep inside her, and while this was eventually my plan, it was the endgame. There were several moves I had yet to make.
Seduction was a multistep process and began with her mind. Once I had her turned on, I still had to prime her body. The more work and preparation I put in, the greater the reward would be. When she arched up off the cushion into my touch, it signaled she was ready for more. I tilted down and planted my lips against the pulse point on her neck just below her ear, sucking until her hands tightened their grip on my arms.
Sophia smelled like an orchard, sunny and fruity, and it lulled me to want to stay right where I was, nestled against her throat with my hand on her waist, but time was my opponent. I was confident in my abilities but would need to leave a few extra minutes in case she really did have difficulty achieving orgasm and it wasn’t just lazy, inept partners.