The Professional (The Game Maker #1)(41)
Author: Kresley Cole

“You”—thrust—“are”—thrust—“mine.”

With his cum on my tongue—my permission—I dipped my fingers to my clit and gave one sensuous slippery stroke.

Orgasm. Exploding. Clenching bliss. Fingers drawing it out, wringing more spasms. Fuck. Fuck! Tears streamed down my face as I swallowed him, drinking till he was emptied and shuddering, rubbing my pu**y until I was too sensitive for more. . . .

Still gently sucking on him, I rested my cheek against his thigh. With infinite tenderness, he caressed my face. Now I was sated.

When his softening c**k slipped out of my mouth, a drop of se**n dribbled down my chin. He swiped it with his thumb. With an expression like awe on his face, he gave it back to my waiting tongue.

As I gazed up at him and sucked his thumb, his eyes darkened with possession.

Deep. Brutal. Never-ending.

He regarded me like I was a trapped thing, already his to enjoy.

Never-ending. Never-ending. Never-ending.

Dear God, what had I done?

Chapter 21

As reality began to set in, I stood on unsteady legs.

I needed to get away from this man, who had more control over my emotions and desires than I’d ever had. This man who had altered me forever, showing me things I could never unsee.

Could never unfeel.

I hadn’t decided to become a slave; he’d made me one.

I’d almost had sex with him. Almost slipped the ring on my finger. Yet I didn’t know him. I didn’t know about his past, his family, or even what he liked to do in his free time.

I didn’t know if we were compatible outside of sex.

“No, no, Natalie.” He reached for me. “Don’t wake up yet.”

Some shadowy part of me didn’t want to wake. I squeezed my forehead, torn. I was dizzy from the heat, from the life-altering pleasure.

When he grasped my hand and began leading me toward the small pool, I allowed it. He wrapped his arms around me, then dropped us in.

I shivered at the temperature, but I needed it, hadn’t realized how overheated I was. He set me on my feet in the waist-high water, then leaned down to press his lips to mine.

I pushed against his chest, but he held me close, savoring my mouth with his, coaxing with his tongue to make me forget myself. . . .

Lost in bliss all over again, I was dimly aware that he was cleaning me, learning me. A big palm caressed between my legs. Another kneaded one of my br**sts. Unhurried, as if he had all the time in the world.

Right when I was becoming chilled again, he carried me out. Before I could even formulate a protest, he was toweling me off. I wanted to tell him to stop, to leave me alone. To just let me process everything he’d done to me.

But I was distracted by his low growling sounds as he tended to me—drying my br**sts, softly rubbing the curls between my legs. His shaft grew stiff again, swaying with his movements.

Were we about to start this all over again? Was I learning nothing? In all these interludes with Sevastyan, I hadn’t been Natalie. I’d been Natalya. And that brainless hussy didn’t seem to know better.

I stepped back from him, turned to search for my clothes. “I need to get dressed. We need to.”

“Don’t do this,” he murmured from behind me.

“Another command?” Snatching up a robe for myself, I tossed him a towel.

He must’ve sensed I was about to freak out, because he covered himself, wrapping it around those narrow hips. “You regret this?” His voice was filled with disbelief. “You can’t. I won’t let you.” As if he hadn’t shocked me enough today, he scooped me up in his arms.

“What are you doing?”

He sat on the bench, cradling me, cupping the back of my head in a protective embrace.

Only fair, since he’d shattered me today.

In the cloak of the steam, I nearly broke down. “How can you change me so much?” I whispered against his ear. “How?” At one point I’d thought I would lose my mind.

“I haven’t. I’ve just shown you a different facet of yourself.”

Clasping him tight, using him like a lifeline, I buried my face in the spot where his neck met his shoulder. “Why are you showing me these things?”

He said nothing.

I pulled back to meet his eyes, found it impossible not to kiss his face. My lips touched upon the askew bridge of his nose, his chin, then smoothed over the lean perfection of his cheeks. He squeezed me tighter against him, seeming to relish this attention, this affection from me.

Between kisses, I asked, “What do you want from me?”

Silence.

“Did you mean what you said about obsession?”

He turned his head away.

“Ugh!” I disentangled myself from him and scrambled to my feet, searching for my undergarments. “You infuriate me!” I found my panties near the fire, half dry from the heat. Dragged them on.

Bra. Where the hell was my—got it. I turned from him, shucked off my robe, then strapped on my bra.

“Damn it, Natalie, I don’t know what to say to you to ease the way you feel.”

“Of course you don’t.” I whirled around on him. “Because we’re all but strangers! I don’t know you!” With difficulty, I pulled my damp pants up my legs.

“What do you want to know?”

I had so many questions. How to decide on a first? “Those tattoos on your knees—they mean you’ll kneel before no one, don’t they?” According to my research. “Which would indicate that you’re a vor yourself.”

“That doesn’t matter. I follow Kovalev.”

Sevastyan was as much of a criminal aristocrat as my father. Yet another detail I’d had no idea about. “That’s all you’re going to say about it?” When I spotted my blouse, I pounced on it.

“I don’t find it easy to talk about myself.”

My fingers paused on my buttons. “Well, it wasn’t easy for me to let you tie me up! But I trusted you in this.”

“Would you take that back? Undo this afternoon, if you could?” He collected his own clothes, beginning to dress.

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “I don’t understand it, or you.” I shoved my wet hair back, knotting it at my nape. “You ignored me for weeks, then put on the full-court press today. Why now?”

“Paxán thought, and I agreed, that everything would be overwhelming for you here.”

I’d never felt pressure like I had here. Never.

“When I confessed to him that I’d crossed a line with you, he asked me to give you room to breathe for a couple of weeks. He said you were young, and that I needed to let you find your feet. So I gave him my word that I would allow you space.”