Seduce Me (Stark Trilogy 3.4)

I can almost hear the smile of approval in his next words. "Now, answer the question. How naughty do you want to be tonight?"

"Very," I say. And then, because I'm feeling bold, "I want to get you hard."

"Baby, I'm already there. Put the phone on speaker and set it beside you. I want you to have both your hands free. Have you done it?"

"Yes," I say, glancing to where I've placed the phone just below the pillow.

"Now unbutton your shirt, just let it lay open on your skin. Are you doing it?"

"Yes."

"Good girl. Now I want you to stroke your exposed skin. Slowly, up and down, from your waist to your breasts. Gently," he clarifies. "Just let your nails trail over your skin."

The sensation is incredible, and I close my eyes and enjoy this sweet caress.

"How does it feel?"

"Amazing," I say. "Like it should tickle, but it doesn't. Like I'm coming alive."

"Tell me where you feel it." His voice is husky, raw with need.

"Everywhere."

"Are your nipples hard? Straining against your bra?"

"Yes."

"Is your cunt wet? Are you throbbing, wanting to be touched? To be fucked?"

I don't answer. I can only manage a whimper.

"Tell me, baby."

"Yes. God, yes."

"Pull the cups down on your bra. I want your nipples free. Then tease them with your fingernails, too. Just the same, very lightly."

I do, and I feel the pathways of pleasure opening up all through me.

"Now harder. Pinch yourself. Imagine it's my mouth on your breast. My tongue teasing you. My teeth scraping, biting."

It is all I can do not to cry out from the pleasure.

"You like that." It's a statement, not a question, but I still admit what he already knows.

"Very much."

"Suck on your finger. Harder, baby. Use your tongue. Imagine it's my cock. Christ, baby, I'm so hard."

I groan, but I don't stop sucking, and I can feel the pull all the way through me, all the way to where my muscles clench in demand, needing to be filled, to be fucked.

I imagine Damien touching me, stroking me. I imagine him filling me, and when his voice comes on the line again, a tremor of pleasure cuts through me, a tiny hint of the explosion to come.

"Draw your finger over your nipple next," he says. "Get it wet. Are you doing it?"

"Yes." The sensation is intense. Every inch of me is an erogenous zone, but my nipples are so sensitive I think I would come if Damien closed his mouth over my breast and sucked.

"Good girl. Now tilt your head down and blow lightly across your breast."

I hesitate, but then comply. And ohmygod.

I arch up, the unexpected sensation wreaking havoc with my already heightened senses, setting my body on fire, making me gasp with longing and need.

"I think the lady liked that," he says, when I stop saying, "Oh fuck, oh wow."

"Yes," I agree. "The lady liked that a lot."

"I want to see you," he says. "I want to see how wet you are. How flushed your skin is."

"Do want to come to my room?"

He is quiet for just a little too long. Then he says, "So much I can't even tell you. But not tonight. Tonight, I want you to do something for me."

"What?"

"Stand up," he says, and since that's easy enough, I comply. "Now take your skirt off."

I reach behind me and find the zipper. I pull it down, then ease the skirt over my hips until it drops to the ground.

"Are you still wearing the shirt? Is it unbuttoned?"

"Yes."

"And your bra? It's still on with your breasts exposed?"

I nod. Then find my voice. "Yes, sir."

"Go to the window. Take the phone."

I do as he says, then stand there, half-naked, looking probably like some girl in a window in a red-light district. Only I'm thirty-five floors up and there's no one out there to see me.

"Send me a picture," he says, "just like that. Your breasts exposed. Your hand on your cunt."

I think I make a mewling sound.

"I want you in front of the window. I want to see the city spread out behind you."

"I--"

I close my mouth, unsure of what to say.

I want to do this, but at the same time I want to protest. I know it's a game, but at the same time...

"Come on, Ms. Fairchild." His voice, low and enticing, envelops me. "Don't you want to be naughty?"

Chapter 5

Do I? Do I want to be naughty?

I consider Damien's question, my body tightening with the thought of what he is asking me.

And the truth is that yeah, I do.

I love Damien, and I love being married to him. But this--this extra tinge of excitement--it fills me up and makes me float. It's shiny and new and tantalizing.

And while I would never go there without Damien, if he is holding my hand and keeping me safe, then well...

"Nikki?"

I close my eyes, smiling just a little. We are still playing the game; I know that. But this is the first time he has said my name, and I understand what that means. That he will always keep me safe. That he will never push me too far.

"Yes, Mr. Stark," I whisper. "I want to be naughty."

I stand as he told me, then use my free hand to hold the phone. I draw a breath, smile just a little, and snap the kind of naughty selfie that I never in a million years would have believed I had it in me to do.

I find it, then message it to Damien, being very, very ca

reful to send it to the right recipient.

"Did you get it?" I ask, and then realize I'm holding my breath until I hear his, "Oh, holy Christ, yes."

My smile blooms. "I guess that means you like it."

"Fuck, yeah."

"Mr. Stark?"

"Yes, baby?"

I lick my lips, fighting shyness. "Are you looking at it now?"

"Oh, yes."

"Are you hard?"

I can almost hear his smile in the silence.

"What do you think?" he finally says.

"I think you are," I say, feeling emboldened. "Are you stroking yourself?" I press. "Are you pretending it's me? Are you getting off?"

"Christ, baby, you're damn sure tempting me. But no. I'm not coming until I'm deep inside you. And you don't touch yourself, either, until I tell you to. Are we clear?"

And just like that he has turned it back around. Taken what little power I'd grabbed and claimed it again with both hands.

Honestly, I can't say that I mind.

"Ms. Fairchild? Are we clear?"

"Yes." I have to force the word out past walls of arousal. "Yes, sir."

"Tell me you want to be fucked."

My cunt clenches in response to his words, and I make a low, needy sound.

"Please, Mr. Stark. I want to be fucked."

"Soon, baby. But tonight, I'm going to make you explode."

"Yes," I say, because right now that sounds pretty close to heaven. "Yes, please."

"Take the shirt off," he says. "And the bra. I want you naked."

I do as he says, and find myself standing naked in my bedroom, my body illuminated by the lights of the Las Vegas Strip, as I wait for my husband--my lover--to tell me what to do next.

"Tell me what you packed."

I bite my lip. "Packed?"

His low laugh rumbles through me. "I'm wondering what you tucked into your suitcase that we might find of use right now."

"Oh." I feel my cheeks heat and am slightly disconcerted. Which is ridiculous. Under the circumstances, the fact that I packed a vibrator is hardly going to rock Damien's universe.

"Tell me." And though his voice is demanding, I hear the undercurrent of amusement. "I like a woman who takes charge of her own pleasure," he adds, the words rescuing me from my slow slide into mortification.

"A vibrator," I mutter. "A bullet. It was a gift." I don't say that it was a bachelorette gift. He already knows that part very well. After all, we've played with this toy before.

"Interesting," he says. "Go get it. Then get on the bed."

I do, and I realize when I lay down that my heart is pounding so hard in anticipation that I can actually feel the bed pulse with each beat.

"Spread your legs, baby. I want you wide open. I'm right there with you, and I want to be able to kiss my way up your thighs. I want to be able to see how wet you are."