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  He faced her, wry amusement lighting his features. “It’s not just your socks I want off. How do you manage to get through life being so uptight, Miss Daniels?” He grazed her cheek with a forefinger and the feathery touch sent a cascade of awareness down her body. Next he rested his hands on her shoulders and pressed down a bit. “Drop your arms. Breathe deep. If you lock up all your muscles, you’ll impede blood flow to your brain and you’ll pass out.”

  “Is this a yoga class? Because I forgot my mat.”

  “Do you suffer from dizzy spells? Do you get lightheaded often?”

  She did. Gramma Essie always told her that was her connection to the quaking. It drained her energy.

  “No,” he said, not in response to his own question, but to her unspoken thoughts. “It’s because you clench up everything all the time. You’re suffocating yourself with your own nervous tension.”

  “And how are you going to relax me?” Her impertinent question prompted him to slip his fingers into the collar of her blouse. One by one he opened the buttons, making sure to brush against her bare skin as he did so. “Oh.”

  After he flicked open the last button, he spread the shirt and pushed it off her shoulders, exposing her bra. She figured he would go for that next. God, she wanted him to, but with her jaw clenched so tightly to keep from moaning aloud, she couldn’t tell him.

  Maddeningly, he ignored her breasts and instead ran his hands down her abdomen to the fly of her jeans. He worked quickly to open the button and zipper and then eased the stiff denim down over her hips and thighs. She arched her back instinctively but refused to make a sound. He helped her slip her shoes off and step out of the jeans. He squeezed her ass before stripping off her panties, and she stifled a groan. This had already gone too far. Why couldn’t he simply paint on her hand or her arm? Why did she have to be so exposed and so vulnerable to him?

  She squeezed her eyes shut when he dropped a kiss on her shoulder and her knees threatened to buckle when he tugged her sleeves free of her arms and dropped her shirt on the floor. Now she wore only her bra, and he made quick work of that, opening the fastening in the back with expert fingers.

  At the foot of the bed, he snagged her scarf and returned to her side. For a moment she worried that he planned to tie her up and she tensed even further. A stab of fear wormed its way through her lower belly and he must have felt it because he grunted.

  “I’m not going to hurt you,” he said. “I’d love to tie you up, but I won’t.” He offered her the scarf. “Cover your eyes with this. I don’t want you to watch me work. I’d rather you be surprised.” The sleek watered silk felt like heaven against her sensitive skin, but fear of losing control made her hesitate. “You can remove it any time. It’s about trust. If you trust me not to take advantage of your not being able to see, I’ll trust you not to remove the blindfold.”

  She pursed her lips and considered the offer. Why not? Her hands would be free. Slowly she raised the scarf and folded it in half. With sinuous movements, she tied it around her head and adjusted it to cover her eyes.

  “That’s better. Now lie down.” She heard him pat the bed, and she permitted him to help her into the center of the huge mattress. The sheets flowed like mercury beneath her trembling body as she positioned herself. Wickedly, he dipped a finger between her thighs, teasing her pussy lips with the illicit contact.

  In response, she clamped her knees together and he laughed. “That won’t save you, my goddess. You know what you want and you know you won’t resist for much longer.”

  She closed her eyes under the silk. “I thought you were going to draw a temporary tattoo on me.”

  “I am. I haven’t decided where yet.”

  She shivered in anticipation but kept her legs together. Her clit pulsed and she ignored it.

  “Lie still,” he said close to her ear. The words startled her because she hadn’t figured he was that close. “I don’t want to spill anything on the bed.” On that cryptic note he left the room. She knew because she dared to peek. When he returned a moment later, she slammed her eyes quickly shut. Anticipation made her muscles feel like steel cables. If she stiffened any more, she’d probably float right off the bed.

  She didn’t need to be psychic to feel his appraisal. Once again, she was naked before him and enjoying his scrutiny. Her body tingled and her hands fisted in the sheets. “Well?”

  “Now you’re anxious. Before you were reluctant.”

  “It’s not the tattoo I’m anxious for. It’s what comes after.”

  He let out a low growl. “I wish you hadn’t said that. Now I’ll be rushing to finish my work.”

  She smiled. Good. She couldn’t wait to finish herself. Now if only she could entice him to begin.

  He remained silent for a long time and finally, just as she was considering removing the blindfold to check on him, she felt the sensual touch of bristles on her skin. She raised her brows but forced herself not to try to peek. A paintbrush? A series of quick strokes tickled her left thigh. Her pussy dampened in response to the tantalizing sensation. She’d expected the hiss of an airbrush, not the layering of thick, cool paint on her body.

  Each pass of the brush felt like a rough tongue, and she imagined him licking her as he worked. Slowly, he made his way up from her thigh, across her belly to her right breast. Long strokes followed short ones. The curving journey of the bristles left her skin tingling everywhere.

  She had no idea what the image might be, but it stretched across her body in a winding path all the way to her right breast. There, he dabbed at her nipple with sweet-smelling paint—tap, tap, tap. Her body responded as if she’d been shocked. Arrows of need raced through her. She grasped the sheet and finally let out a low moan. If a few strokes of a paintbrush felt like this, what would his tongue do to her?

  “Heath…”

  “I’m almost finished.”

  “My God. I think I’m going to come.”

  She sensed him smiling and the pressure of the brush against her nipple grew more intense. Her whole breast tingled. Moisture pooled between her legs and she spread them instinctively, not anticipating the effect a rush of cool air would have against her clit. She bit her lower lip. How could she be on the edge of an orgasm just from having him run a brush over her skin?

  “You’re close,” he said, his voice husky. “Let me help you.”

  Her breath caught in her throat as he ran the hard handle of the brush down her body in a serpentine line, exciting the taut muscles of her abdomen, parting her intimate curls and finally touching the hot, hard nub of her clitoris. The contact jolted her hard, not just the feel of the slim finger of wood touching her most sensitive flesh, but the sudden irrational fear that he might thrust the handle into her cunt. She tensed every muscle in her body and on a low keen, she came hard. Sensation ricocheted through her womb, tightening and releasing. Moisture spilled from her pussy with each pulse of her orgasm. Her body rocked and she cried out with the inevitable pleasure/pain.

  Above her, Heath moaned as well. “Beautiful…damn. I could come just from watching you.”

  “Oh God…I never…”

  He leaned over her body and blew a warm breath across her unpainted nipple. “You never came so hard in your life?”

  She nodded, still shivering, shaking. The pulsing of her clit matched the thundering of her heart. “No…God no.”

  “Take a deep breath, Rihana. This is only the beginning.”

  She obeyed and a second later he did impale her—not with the brush fortunately, but with his fingers. Two—thrust deep. She screamed his name and her back arched off the bed.

  “That’s it. Feel it, Ree. I’m going to make you come every way I know how until you can’t move, can’t think, until you don’t have enough energy left in you to be tense. Then, when you’re too wrung out to cringe or grit your teeth and hold your breath, when you’re too exhausted to worry about feeling shame for your pleasure, I’m going to fuck you.”

  Chapter Niner />
  Heath wasn’t sure he could last until the paint on Rihana’s skin dried enough to touch. He’d made the image thick and dark, infusing it with as much power as he could without using permanent ink.

  Running a brush along her curves had been difficult enough with a rock-hard erection straining against his fly. Watching her come had nearly done him in. He couldn’t keep his hands off her any longer, so he gave in.

  Casting the paintbrush aside, he’d spread her thighs and pushed two fingers inside her. His cock jumped at her sharp intake of breath. She was still coming, her smooth inner walls contracting rhythmically around his fingers. He took advantage of that and began thrusting in time and rubbing her clit simultaneously.

  She bit her lip and hissed through her teeth as the next orgasm hit her on the heels of the first. Her body shuddered, and she strained with the effort to ride the increasing wave of sensation without breaking apart.

  He smiled. God, he wanted to pull off his clothes and take her, but it was still too soon. She still held her thighs rigid and the muscles of her flat belly were taut as bowstrings. She needed more and he gave it.

  At just the right moment, he increased pressure on her clitoris, massaging with his thumb while he swirled one finger in her slick cunt. She bucked her hips, drawing in rasping breaths. If he timed it right, he could give her half a dozen orgasms, one after another until her nerve endings gave out and left her practically helpless.

  “Good…very good.” He brushed at the tight black curls of her mound and watched her shiver. Her hands fisted in his sheets and beneath the band of golden silk covering her eyes her cheeks were damp with sweat. “Tell me you want more.”

  “Mmm…more…Ah!” He entered her again, reaching carefully for her G-spot. Her inner contractions renewed, harder at first, wringing a sob from her. “Heath…please… please…”

  “You’re not done yet, my goddess. Not even close.”

  Shivering with his own anticipation, he settled himself between her thighs. While her body rocked in the throes of orgasm number three, he set off a fourth with his tongue. A quick lick and suck of her clit, then he ran his tongue down her slit and inside, a fast, illicit thrust as deep as he could go.

  She shuddered and curled up, grabbing at his hair. She pulled and he smiled while working a finger into her wet recesses. “No more…”

  “Come on, be honest. You’ve never gone this far or this long before, have you? You didn’t know you could.”

  She didn’t respond with words. Images flashed in his mind of a musty barn, her teenaged self pulling a sweatshirt over her breasts while a young man slipped faded jeans up over his slim hips. Heath felt the moment as clearly as she remembered it—the smell of sweat and sex mixed with the aromas of fresh hay and wood, grain and horses. Her legs trembled from the force of her young lover’s anxious thrusts. She wanted to toss her clothes aside and beg him to take her again because she needed more, but fear of being caught made them dress quickly and race back home on their dirt bikes.

  Next, a dark apartment filled his mind, candles cast a dim glow over a familiar bed. A man rose above her, thick cock in his hand.

  Heath slowed his movements. “This was recent,” he said, fighting a stab of jealousy. “Who is he?”

  “No one important. Good…sex, bad relationship.”

  “Hmm.” He channeled some of that frustration into his next mission and drew her clit into his mouth. She cried out and pushed her hips forward. He felt the tremors inside her and he sucked harder. She dug her nails into his shoulders and swallowed a moan.

  “Is this good sex?” He worked his thumb against her sensitive flesh again, harder, faster. Beneath her flawless skin, her muscles tensed. Sweat beaded on her upper lip and her breath became ragged. Heath stared at her parted lips and focused on the teasing glint of silver visible between her teeth. Her piercing clicked against her upper incisors as she shuddered.Bringing her pleasure made him hard. His power over her in this moment was the ultimate turn-on. He allowed himself a wicked smile and increased the rhythm of his intimate massage.

  She’d break soon, then he could do what he wanted with her, what he needed to do before he exploded.

  “Yes…”

  “Very good sex?”

  She growled. “Yes!”

  “Great sex?”

  “Oh God, yes…”

  “Do you want to come one more time, Rihana?”

  “No, please, no…I can’t.”

  “I’m sorry. That’s not the answer I’m looking for.”

  “Damn you!”

  “What is the right answer? Tell me, and then you’ll get your reward. Do you want to come again?”

  “Yes, yes. Do it.”

  He did and finally she gave in and let herself go.

  * * * * *

  Rihana panted as if she’d run a marathon. Rivulets of sweat ran between her breasts and down from her temples under the band of silk across her eyes. She never thought she’d be grateful for a blindfold, but the cloth barrier actually made it easier for her to deal with the emotions spinning out of control in her brain.

  If she couldn’t see Heath, she could fight the instinct to be ashamed of her body’s reactions. Behind the silk, she was alone, experiencing this forbidden, exhausting pleasure that made her limbs tremble and her heart thunder.

  She’d lost count after five orgasms. Finally, Heath allowed her to rest. She lay limp as a rag doll, stretched out in the center of his bed. The soft sheets gathered loosely under her hands now. She’d lost the ability to make a fist, along with the will to hold herself stiff in anticipation of each new race to completion. For the first time since she was sixteen, she just let it happen and the freedom left her weak with exhilaration.

  While she lay humming tunelessly to herself, lost in the rhythmic contractions of her womb and the gentle pulse of her pussy lips, he began to massage her arms, her wrists, her hands. The friction of skin on skin felt wonderful. Little by little her breathing slowed to normal. She would have drifted off, except the sound of a zipper being pulled open startled her. She listened to clothing rustle and felt the mattress dip beneath her as he climbed aboard again.

  Her first instinct, of course, was to tense. Though she wanted him to fuck her, she didn’t think she could handle it in this liquid state of being. She whimpered when he took her hands in his.

  “It’s all right. Sit up.”

  “I can’t. Too tired.” She hummed again and he laughed.

  “You can sleep when I’m done with you.”

  “Aww…”

  “Come on. I have something to show you.” He tugged and she managed to find enough strength to pull herself up. Her stomach muscles protested. They’d been wrung hard. Her clit pulsed from the pressure of her thighs when she closed her legs and drew them beneath her.

  Carefully, he guided her to turn around, eased her up onto her knees and straightened her shoulders and her back. “You can take the blindfold off now and look at your guardian.”

  Her heartbeat picked up pace again. She’d forgotten about the image that crossed her body from breast to opposite hip. Temporary. Her mind supplied the word to calm her ricocheting anxiety. She wouldn’t have to keep it if she didn’t like it.

  “You’ll like it,” he said, his psychic presence a comfort rather than an intrusion in her mind. “You’ll like what it does for you.”

  She made a noncommittal noise and lifted her hands. Her arms felt heavy as lead bars, but she managed to find the edges of the scarf and pull it off. He’d maneuvered her to face the mirrored wall behind the bed, and the view made her suck in a startled breath.

  Softly lit with the spotlights above, she looked like an exotic island princess. Sweat shone on her limbs and her chest and color darkened her cheekbones.

  Slashed across her torso lay a serpent, its body as thick as her wrist. Its head, the size of her fist, lay on her hip, just beneath the slight swell of her abdomen. Detailed scales in shades of burnt orange and fire red st
retched over her belly and up between her breasts. A tail the color of sand lay across her nipple, and she moaned at the memory of the stiff bristles teasing her hypersensitive flesh.

  Heath slid his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him. The contact didn’t disturb the now dry paint, but it fired all the nerves in her body again, this time with a liquid warmth that made her feel as if she would melt into a puddle.

  The hard ridge of his erection slid beneath her ass as he positioned himself behind her.

  “What do you think?”

  “I think that’s a very big snake.”

  His laugh vibrated against her back. “I mean about your guardian.”

  “Oh that. Very…interesting.”

  “Careful, it has teeth.” To punctuate his words, he bit her shoulder. Desire slithered down her body, hardening her nipples and making the serpent’s tail stand up, as if it were ready to strike at something.

  “How long will it last?”

  “Just a day or so.” He grasped her hips, guided her backward at the same time he bent her upper body forward. “When it fades, you’ll be ready for a permanent image. I promise you that.”

  She wanted to ask him if he would still be around then but thought better of it. Her mind fogged and her thoughts seemed to scatter. Concentration centered on the hot shaft intruding between her legs. She allowed him to guide her down to the mattress and adjust her hips. She no longer had the strength to tense up in fear of the pleasure/pain of penetration. She was boneless and utterly obedient to his every move, and when he slid into her from behind, it felt like heaven.

  He growled something that might have been a curse as he took her. “You’re so fucking tight…”

  Hmm. She wanted to respond. The words formed in her mind, praise for his size and length, but they never made it to her lips. Instead she gasped as he thrust forward. She clenched the sheets, spread her legs wider and held on, watching his face in the mirror as he impaled her.