A Million Different Ways (Horn Duet 1)

With warm anticipation, he watched my trembling hand roll the condom on. I straddled him and slowly sank down, the heavy penetration stretching me until he was so deep I could barely move. “Let me,” he whispered. My eyes glazed over from the overwhelming sensation. His hands cradled my face and his lips caught at mine.

Only him––nothing else existed. The way he felt inside of me, the sound of him, the taste of him. It was all consuming. And he was equally present in the moment, making me feel needed, treasured––my pleasure his only concern. It destroyed me. An arrow to my Achilles.

He began rolling his hips in hard, shallow thrusts, grinding against me. When I matched his effort, he buried a harsh grunt into the curve of my neck. I urged him on but he forced me with his body and his burning gaze to submit. Until his lips command silently. Now, Vera. Now! Teetering on the tipping point, I couldn’t quite get there, sweet oblivion maddeningly out of reach.

“Sebastian––” His thumb skated lightly over my swollen clit and pleasure shot outward to every point in my body. Placing his hand over my mouth, he muted my scream. Then he gripped my hips and brought me down hard, shoving himself even deeper; a tremor subjugating his powerful frame as, at last, he found his own release.

We sat entwined and held each other tightly for a long time afterwards. Neither one of us wanted to break off the intimacy. Don’t let go, I wanted say but didn’t. Instead, I hid my face in the curve of his neck and breathed in his comforting scent while his fingers stroked the rungs of my spine.

A wave of wistfulness broke over me. Besieged with all this closeness, my resolve was crumbling fast and caring for him filled me with dread. I was petrified of what would become of me once it was over. I wiped my face of emotion before I looked at him.

“Come back to my room with me,” he softly pleaded. I shook my head and his expression hardened instantly. “Vera––” He could even make a whisper sound menacing––so mercurial, my tender, despotic lover.

“No. I mean it, Sebastian. You have to go.” I’m scared. I’m in danger of losing myself. I tried to get off his lap but he held onto my hips.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I’m not doing anything. I have to get to sleep.”

His solemn eyes studied me as if he could find a secret backdoor to my mind that would reveal all my thoughts and intentions. Instinctively, I knew that if I yielded, he would be forever riding roughshod over me. I held his gaze until his hands rose in surrender. When I stood, a burning sensation made me wince and his imperious scowl made its first appearance of the night.

“Honeymoon fever,” I explained. “Happens when you haven’t had sex in a long time…then have a lot of it.” My smile did nothing to temper his irritation. He jerked the condom off.

“Come to my room and take a bath,” he said in a voice tight with concern.

“Go,” I ordered, his pants hanging from my extended hand.

We stared at each other in a silent battle of wills. I could practically see the wheels spinning, his predatory mind calculating the cost to profit ratio. He was clearly not accustomed to being told no, or accepting it as an end. His lips thinned and his eyes narrowed. He sat down on the bed and shoved his pants on without care.

Suddenly feeling shy, I turned my back to him and slipped on my nightgown. Before the unease could find traction, he was holding me. His arms wrapped around me from behind and pulled me into the shelter of his body. Relieved, I leaned against him, closed my eyes, and savored the quiet comfort of his arms.

His soft lips hovered near my ear as he spoke. “When these people leave, you and I are going to have a long talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

He placed his hand over my mouth and slapped my rear end, a muffled yelp jumping from my lips. “You bet your sweet, sweet ass there is,” he stated with total certainty.

After planting a loud kiss on the side of my throat, he let go. I was instantly cold and lonely, already missing his touch, before he even closed the door behind him. Alone in the moonlight, I stared at the door and rubbed my stinging rear end, wondering how I ever thought I could manage this man.

Chapter Seventeen

Mrs. Redman entered the bedroom as I fluffed the last of the pillows on the bed. It may have been my imagination but it felt like the temperature suddenly dropped about 30 degrees. An arctic chill seemed to follow her everywhere she went. She stood in the doorway wearing tennis whites and a scheming gaze. Large, dark sunglasses sat on top of her head forgotten.