Zyah took his hand and he led her into the house. Strangely, he found that his heart was pounding. He hadn’t realized how much it would matter to him that she like his home. It hadn’t mattered at all that anyone else had.
There was gleaming wood flooring throughout the house. That was a good part of what he loved about it. Vaulted ceilings overhead. That always gave him the needed feeling of space—and he needed space. He had so many nights waking up with nightmares of that dungeon. Of being in chains. Of being confined.
There were archways, beautiful trim on the windows and custom cabinets built by a master crafter. He appreciated the work. The man had since passed, but Player would have talked with him for hours, and sometimes in the middle of the night he walked barefoot into the kitchen and dining room and had a conversation with the deceased man anyway, just to acknowledge his craftsmanship. Skylights provided natural lighting in many of the rooms, something Zyah couldn’t see at night, but if she was there during the day, she would be able to appreciate the effects.
He let go of her hand so she could wander around on her own. The floor plan was mostly open, one room leading through to the next with the open archways. She moved slowly, looking into the more formal dining room with the gas fireplace built into the wall. She walked right up to the long table he’d built with his own hands. The thick slab of polished oak that gleamed as bright as the floor. The chairs were made of the same oak, but the high backs and seats were covered in thick square foam with black microfiber material Lana had sewn for him. He thought the effect was striking, and they were extremely comfortable.
“The table and chairs are beautiful,” she said. “Truly beautiful.”
“Thanks.” His voice was gruffer than he intended.
She turned to him. “You made them.”
He nodded. “Lana did the seat covers for me.”
She ran her finger over the edge of the table. “This is incredible work, Player. Can you turn on the fireplace?”
The remote was on the long trim board above the fireplace that ran the length of the room. Flames sprang to life with one press of the button. Immediately, the atmosphere in the room changed. It had been beautiful before, but cold; now there was a warmth, a life, the flames flicking on the walls, dancing, throwing shadows as if for a show. Heat moved through him. He dimmed the lighting in the room until the fireplace was the main source of light, showing Zyah how the flames danced across the wood of the table, changing the color and making the top come to life.
Player came up behind her, unzipping her jacket as he leaned in, lips close to her ear. “What do you think? The fireplace gives the room an entirely different appeal, doesn’t it?” He poured seduction into his voice.
She tipped her head back against his chest as he opened her jacket and tugged it off her arms, sweeping her gloves away with the jacket. “I like the way it looks right now. It’s amazing.”
“I made that table very sturdy. It doesn’t move at all.” His mouth wandered down her neck. Little kisses. Little nips. His tongue tasting her. Savoring her. All the while his hands were pulling the next layer of clothing off of her. A sweater this time. A thin one. He had to back off enough to pull it over her head. Her T-shirt was next. He got that off fast, leaving just her lacy bra. She wore the most beautiful underwear.
He kept her turned away from him, liking the way it felt to be fully dressed with her skin gleaming in the firelight, and that thin layer of lace, so delicate, stretched around the heavy, perfect tits he thought of far too often. He cupped the weight of them in his palms, his thumbs sliding over her nipples. As he did, he leaned forward and caught the lobe of her ear in his teeth, biting down. She moaned and pushed her bottom back into him.
“Unzip your jeans, Zyah.” He whispered the words as he slid his hands around to unhook her bra, freeing her gorgeous breasts. As much as he liked her underwear, holding the soft mounds in his hands without anything in his way was much better. He bent his head to her shoulder, biting down on her neck, right where he remembered she couldn’t resist. At the same time, his fingers traced her areolae and then cupped her breasts again, kneading and massaging gently, applying pressure and then becoming gentle.
“Push your jeans and panties off your hips.” He poured velvet command into his voice, and she responded with another moan, pushing the blue jeans and underwear down her rounded hips and off her thighs as far as she could manage. She was so beautiful. The dancing flames played over her body with loving lights.