No Ordinary Gentleman

“Just one,” I modify. “You must do as you’re told.”

“That sounds . . .” Any protest she might make is drowned out as I tighten my hands on her hips and move her pussy over me again and again. “Oh, God.” She tightens her hand at my neck, bringing our bodies so close.

I bring my mouth over hers. Teasing touches, butterfly light, as I take my time. As I work her body over mine until her breathing is laboured and her fingers dig into my shoulders. When it begins to sound like she might get off, get off on my cock and the seam of her jeans, I slow it down. Skimming my hands under her shirt, I slip it from her shoulders, then press my mouth over her nipple, sucking through the fabric.

“You’re so beautiful, Holland. You make me so hard.”

“You’re driving me crazy.”

As she begins to move again, I grip her hips. Sucking harder, tighter, releasing her nipple from the other cup to toy and tease with the pads of my fingers.

“Alexander, please.” She twists, all tight breaths and taut words. “I need . . .” Her hands move to the button of my jeans, but I move them away.

“No, sweet girl. Not today.” Not until you let me into more than just your underwear.

“But I want to make you feel good.”

“You want me to fuck you,” I say with a dark-sounding chuckle. “You can’t kid a kidder, my darling girl.”

“Yes, but it’d be good for both . . .” But her words go unfinished as I slip my hand between us and grip her pussy.

“I want this more than you can imagine, but I won’t. Not tonight.” I press my mouth to her neck to conceal a brief flash of my amusement. God, her expression.

“What?”

“I mean to practise a little self-restraint.” I begin to trail wet, open-mouthed kisses down her neck, my words a little hoarse. “At least until you’re sure of me.”

So, that’s my big plan. That’s what I’ve come up with after hours of introspection. Deeds, not words, because my words seem to have no effect on her. If I want more then, I have to sacrifice a little. Prove that I’m not the man she thinks I am.

“But I am sure.” Her protest is almost a wine. “I’m sure I want you.”

I cup her elbows and draw her away from me until we’re face to face.

“And I want you, Holland, but I need you to believe me, to hear what I’m saying. We can be more than just stolen moments when no one is looking. You deserve better, and I want to give you what you deserve.” Despite my serious tone, her eyes turn molten, and she bites her lip, her hands reaching for my fly a second time.

“I know what I deserve.”

“You’re making my ardent overtures very hard.” I’d meant the delivery to sound mildly mocking, not the low rumble of words we both hear.

“Hard.” She repeats the word as though savouring it, pleasure twisting my insides as it grips me over my trousers. Suddenly, abstinence doesn’t seem such a good idea, though I manage to force myself to lift her hands away. Pressing my lips to each of her palms in turn, I raise them to my shoulders before wrapping her tightly against me with a ragged sigh. I’m willing, yes, but not enthusiastic. It had seemed like a good plan earlier, but the hold I have on my libido is, frankly, tenuous.

“Let’s go upstairs,” my temptress whispers, rocking over my cock again. “Take me to bed, Alexander.”

“You would tempt the devil,” I groan, kissing her again. All the better to stop her objections, all the better to stop me from giving in. Yet the more we kiss, the more I want to taste her, the more frantic I feel.

Slow. Slow down.

Bringing my mouth across her jaw, I track my tongue down her neck and press my lips to her tripping pulse.

With power comes responsibility.

As I set her body away from mine once more, I realise my mistake. I’m not the one with the power. She is. Her body is an invitation, her softly pouting mouth a provocation. I skim my hand across the delicate architecture of her collarbone as she watches me, her gaze full of heat and unspoken promises. Lower my hand glides, and still, she watches, inhaling a sumptuous sounding breath as I bring my fingers to the button of her jeans. One twist, and it opens, the soft susurrus of the zip to follow.

I peel the sides of her jeans open as a harshness begins to hammer in my veins.

Need. Want. Take. Bend. Twist. Crush. Capture. Hold. Violate.

Gritting my teeth, I push the madness away. Push away the violent need for gentleness. There’s a tremor in my hand as I press it to the soft curve of her stomach. She sucks in a breath and arches into my hand. My fingers breach the waistband of her underwear, the tiny glittery bow winking in the light.