Rebellion (A Dangerous Man 2)

He nuzzles my neck, sending a quiver of pleasure flowing across my body, reminding me of our unfinished business in the elevator, my body responds immediately, but then he straightens, leaving me feeling a little disappointed.

I don’t notice the smallish, middle-aged woman until I hear her voice. “Good afternoon.” She says. Startled at the intrusion, I turn around, and see her standing behind us. “Welcome to Seattle, Mrs. Preston.” She continues.

She is smiling at me, her face open and friendly. I smile back. “Thank you.”

“Sophie, this is Mrs. Daniels, your housekeeper.” David introduces us as the elevator bell dings and Steve comes in, carrying David’s suitcase and my luggage as if they weigh nothing.

“Come on,” David turns to me, “let me show you the rest of the apartment. Mrs. Daniels will unpack your things.”

I nod, wondering as Steve carries my luggage further into the apartment, if I’ll ever get used to people doing things for me that I’ve always done by myself.

I let David lead me through the rest of his home, my new home. I can’t help being excited that I’m going to live in this insanely beautiful place. Beyond the dining area is a modern kitchen, with equipment I can’t even identify, let alone use. It has a marble-topped island in the middle, and a comfortable looking breakfast nook for four.

There is more. David’s study, with dark wood wall paneling and a soft dark rug, bookshelves filled with books, and another set of floor to ceiling windows, which provide more spectacular views of the city,

Two guest bedrooms that look beautiful, if unused, and a staircase that leads to a private terrace with a sparkling blue swimming pool.

I already know that he is rich, but this is luxury. “It’s more beautiful than I imagined.” I tell him, enchanted with it all.

He doesn’t reply, instead he leads me down the hall to the last door, the door to the master suite. He places his hand on the door handle and smiles at me. “Are you ready to see your room, Mrs. Preston?”

My heart quickens. “I believe I am, Mr. Preston.”

He chuckles and opens the door into a huge bedroom.

A soft rug covers the entire floor, and the windows are hung from floor to ceiling with long white drapes. There are two armchairs and a coffee table in a corner, and a dressing table with a wide mirror. But it’s the bed that catches my attention. It is huge, perfectly made and very inviting, taking up most of the space on one side of the room. It’s a bed to roll around in, a bed to make love in. I step towards it, moving almost involuntarily.

At the foot of the bed, I stop and run my hands along the soft linen bedspread. I turn to see if David is following me, and find that he is right behind me.

His face dips to the back of my neck, moving my hair out of the way, as he uses his lips to tease the sensitive skin. “Do you like it?” He whispers, his voice is unmistakably sensual.

I arch my neck, exposing more of my skin to his lips. “Yes.” I whisper.

He pulls me to him, his hands circling my waist, and molding my body against his. Sighing softly, I lean back, pressing myself against his hard body. I feel his erection against the back of my thighs and my body clenches in sweet need. I moan softly.

“You’re an aphrodisiac.” He murmurs in my ear, his voice husky. “I want you every minute,” His hands finds my breasts through my clothes and start to rub them gently from behind.

I close my eyes, luxuriating in the feel of his hands and the sound of his voice. His hands roam down from my breasts to my thighs. Gripping the hem of my skirt, he pulls it up until it’s around my waist. I feel the cool air on my exposed flesh, then his hands, warm, strong, caressing the softness of my butt, until the heat building between my legs is a pulsing, raging fire, and I want so much more.

We’re still standing, and my legs are so weak that I have to lean back against him. He unbuttons my blouse and undoes my bra, pushing it up until my breasts spill naked into his hands.

I sigh with pleasure when he grabs them, massaging them with a slow, rhythmic motion while playing with my aching nipples. I moan and press harder against him, wet and aching, desperate for him to give me what I need.

Still standing, he pulls my panties down and spreads my legs, stroking me with his fingers. I am so wet, they slip into me very easily, I hear him groan, and the sound fires my blood. I reach back for his belt, but he’s faster than I am. He releases me for a moment while he undoes his pants, the next moment I can feel him, rock hard, pressing insistently against my thighs.

I shimmy until my panties fall all the way down, and then step out of them, leaving them discarded on the floor. I spread my legs, aching for him to fill me. His fingers start to stroke me again, I hear myself panting as he rubs back and forth, in and out, pleasuring me. I groan loudly, moving my hips to his rhythm. He strokes me until my hips are jerking uncontrollably, then he pulls his fingers away and replaces them with his thick, hard length.

I press backward, and he pushes into me, making me whimper uncontrollably as he fills me. I can’t stop myself from crying out again and again as he thrusts, still gripping my hips. I match his strokes, pushing him deeper into my core. I feel out of balance, like any moment I’ll fall, but I don’t care, the only thing that matters is each sure thrust, each sweet burst of pleasure. My whole body is heating up, and getting slick with sweat, but I don’t care, I only want more. He groans and grips my waist tighter, thrusting harder and faster. I can’t feel my fingers or my toes, I can’t feel anything, only him and the devastating pleasure he is giving me. I cry hoarsely as my brain reduces to nothing but sweetness. My body stiffens and I lose myself, falling against him with a moan, as he groans and comes in a hot rush inside me.

I can’t catch my breath. I can feel his heart beating against my back, and his breath coming in deep gasps. He slips out of me and my body shivers with residual pleasure. My legs give way, and we both collapse on the soft rug.

When I catch my breath, I turn to look at him, unable to suppress a giggle at how ridiculous we both look, half-undressed, and lying on the floor.

David follows my gaze, and chuckles. He kicks off his pants, then gets up and, lifting me as easily as if I weigh nothing, he carries me over to the bed, collapsing on top of me on the soft mattress.

“Welcome home, Mrs. Preston.”

“Thank you, Mr. Preston.”