“My home. Norsely. It’s beautiful. It’s in the country. Everything is green and lush there. My room overlooks the gardens, and during the spring a wind sweeps in and I can smell the roses. It’s all in white. White curtains, white linens, white carpet. I open the door to the balcony so the breeze can wash over us. It makes us feel clean and it feels so good on your skin, love. It’s cool, but I promise I’ll make you warm again.”
She closed her eyes and she could see it, feel the breeze on her skin. It made her shiver but he was right. He could make her warm with a single look. Against the white of the room, he stood out. His skin and hair were sun kissed, as though Apollo himself had blessed him.
“You’re here with me, Chelsea. Show me how beautiful you are.”
She opened her eyes, but all she could see was him. She let go of everything else. She didn’t have to be anywhere she didn’t want to be. If she wasn’t really here, then she didn’t have to be afraid. She could be who she wanted to be. She could be brave.
She let her hands drift to the bottom of her T-shirt and she pulled it over her head before she could think about it. She did away with the bra. If she was going to this, she would do it right. “It sounds beautiful. Your home that is.”
He’d grown up in a mansion. She’d seen the manor house in pictures because when she was bored she always turned to her favorite subject. Night after endless night she would look for articles about him. When the pain in her leg flared, she looked for pictures of him attending grand balls and graduating from Oxford. She hoped he never found the folders she kept on her servers where she stashed all the information she could find about him and his family. The Westons had been royalty for centuries, coming in and out of favor with various kings and queens but always finding a way to better themselves.
Her father had killed her mother and god only knew how many people. He’d been a criminal and her home had been stolen from someone who owed her father money.
“It is beautiful, but not as beautiful as you.”
“Simon…”
He put a finger to her lips. “Hush. I don’t want to be forced to punish you. Just agree with me and we’ll get along so much better. You’re beautiful, Chelsea, and I’ll say it until you believe it.” His eyes were on her breasts. “Are you really a virgin?”
She nodded. “There weren’t many choices growing up and then I was on the run.”
She didn’t have to tell him anything else. He didn’t have to know about that night.
“So no man’s ever brushed his fingers over your flesh?” Gently, oh so gently, his fingertips traced a line from her collarbone to her nipples. Like a little butterfly flapping its wings against her skin.
She shook her head. “No.”
No one ever touched her the way he did.
With one finger he traced a circle around her areola. She could feel her nipple tightening, peaking. “No man’s ever put his mouth here.”
He was going to do it. He was going to kiss her there and she wanted it. Her body felt soft, submissive. Submission had always been just a word for her, something she would say to get what she wanted. She wanted to submit to him, to let him do what he wanted because she had no idea what she could be. That was what he’d said. That she could be more. She wanted more.
“No.”
He dropped to his knees in front of her.
“Simon, the floor…” It seemed wrong for him to touch it. He was always so clean.
“The carpet is quite easy on my knees, love. It’s chenille. So soft. And you look gorgeous in the afternoon light. The window behind us faces the west. It catches the sunset and it makes your hair come alive. It brings out the red and gold, and sparkles against your naked skin. It makes you look like a goddess.”
He leaned his head forward and pressed a chaste kiss against her breast.
Heat flared along her flesh. “Tell me more.”
“There’s a bed and I’ll take you there in a moment.” He switched to her other breast, giving it the same tender treatment. “It’s quite large.”
She couldn’t help but smile. “You have a big bed? I would have thought it would be small after your lecture on Americans needing space. You had a brother growing up. Did you share a room with him?”
He chuckled against her skin, running his nose across her as though memorizing her scent. “Don’t talk about my brother. He might like to share with his friends, but I prefer to be one on one. And this wasn’t my room. This is more like a fantasy I have. A grown-up version. I won’t ever live there again. That’s my brother’s home now.”
But he missed it. She could hear it in his voice. “So in your fantasy you have a big bed.”
His tongue came out, licking over her and making her squirm. “Yes, we need a big bed for all the things I want to do to you. I don’t want it to be staid and plain between us. I want it dirty and rough and sweet and slow and everything that it can be between two people. A Dom needs room to make his sub scream.”
She was almost screaming as it was. He licked her other nipple and then took it between his teeth, rolling it gently and then biting down so suddenly she couldn’t help but squeal.
“God, I love that sound.”
She could feel his whispered words all along her flesh. It made her shiver with desire she hadn’t known possible. This man did it for her in every way she’d never imagined. It was like her skin was magnetized and attracted to him and only him.
He sucked her nipple hard, his arms going around her waist and dragging her to him. She let her head fall back. Simon had promised her he wouldn’t take her virginity. He claimed he wouldn’t penetrate her until she begged for him—until she loved him. She knew only two things in the world. She knew that Charlotte was a devoted sister and that when Simon Weston told her something, he would move heaven and earth to make certain what he said would happen. He wouldn’t lie to her. He was the good guy.
She could relax because she wasn’t going to give him what he wanted.
She couldn’t tell him that she loved him.
God, she wanted to be able to love him. She’d never felt about anyone the way she felt for him but she didn’t trust it, didn’t believe it could last. She wanted him so badly, but she would have to leave him if only to protect him.
She let her hands find his hair. She had him for the moment and she wanted everything she could have from him. She held him to her breast, reveling in the way he sucked and licked and bit at her. He moved from one nipple to the next and she wondered how it would feel to wear his clamps. He would pick pretty clamps and slip them over her nipples one by one. They would bite into her, a reminder that he was her Master. When he touched her, she would move and whimper and shiver and feel the touch of his clamps.