CHAPTER THREE

Sam entered the kitchen. His heart stuttered through a couple extra beats. Beneath Hannah’s t-shirt, hardened nipples pebbled and the soft color of her areoles was visible through the soft, white cotton. The tension ratcheted through his body as the plump globes drew him like a moth to a candle. Between when he had finished the deck and now, she had removed her bra. There was an even chance that skimpy bit of lace thong was one less obstacle as well. Not that it would matter, he would just push it aside or snap the crotch. Nothing would come between him and Hannah’s sweet, hot pussy.

His gaze met hers. Hunger radiated from her. Her gaze skimmed him, pausing on his bare chest, and lingering on his cock, now pressing painfully against his zipper. Her lips parted and she took a shallow breath. Sam held back a chuckle, and forced himself not to move to shift his erection. If she wanted to look, he was happy to let her. The more he teased her, the tighter she would be wound when he went to work coaxing orgasms from her delicious body. “Forgot to put a clean shirt in my duffle. Will this bother you?”

His question brought her gaze from his crotch to his chest with a faint flush of embarrassment. “No problem. Are you hungry?”

He smiled at her breathless voice, then allowed himself the same liberty she’d taken. His gaze appraised the way her tight jean skirt smoothed over her luscious hips and blossomed in the most incredible manner over thighs a manner dive between in pleasure.. He didn’t bother to hide his low grumble of satisfaction. “Very hungry. Starved. Been four months since I ate—”

“The coals should be ready. I’d better put the steaks on.”

She turned after cutting him off to open the refrigerator door, but her shaking like a teenager on her first date gave away her nervousness.

Ah, chère, you’re in good hands with me.

Sam inhaled the faint, lingering scent of jasmine from her perfume. Strange how none of his crew noticed it, but it haunted him even in his dreams. He could identify it she was within a fifty-foot radius of him. No one else used that perfume. Or perhaps it just smelled different on Hannah added to the sweet scent of her lust. He moved behind her, his arms wrapping around her as he pulled her back against him. The door slid closed, his hand resting on it. “The steaks can wait, chère, I can’t.”

He nuzzled her neck where her pulse raced under his lips and then spun her toward him and wedged them against the door. Her legs wobbled, but she wasn’t in danger of falling while he held her. “Ah, chère, we’re finally together. Are you ready to have some fun?”

She threaded her fingers through the damp hair at his neck. Her passionate, wide-eyed, chocolate stare took his breath away. “Fun, yes, but what kind, Sam?”

What a minx. He’d done a little investigating before his shower and discovered her stash. Except for the dildos, everything else was new and untested. She even had some things that had surprised him. It seemed his teach enjoyed adventure. “You like games?” Her yes was a slight puff of air against his lips. “You been thinking o’ them, chère. How ‘bout we take out some of your toys and play?”

Her eyes narrowed. “You were snooping in my drawers?”

“In the drawers of your dresser, oui, not the drawers I love. So, c’mon, chère, so let’s play.”

Hannah stepped back. She was supposed to be in charge. This was her fantasy. “I’m not sure I like that.”

His big, callused hands cupped her bare butt. “Ah, chère, those toys give control to me. I think that’s exactly what you like and that’s ‘xactly what I plan to give you.”

Her eyes widened at his bluntness and thickening Cajun accent. Unprepared for his next assault as he lifted her, she instinctively wound her legs around his waist with a tiny gasp. “What’s the plan?”

He winked, loosened his grip just enough so that she slid a bit down, the sensitive swell between her thighs now resting against his thick erection.

The cold marble of the kitchen island shocked her heated bottom as he set her on its edge. With one hand, he pulled off her top and tossed it atop the table in the eating area. In less than two seconds, he’d shoved her skirt to her waist and stepped out of his jeans. With a wicked grin, he reached for her tall bottle of EVOO, fitted with a pour spout. “Ah, then maybe you like this. Extra virgin—that you? Or maybe a little less than extra virgin, oui?” He paused, his large hand hovering beside it, then lifting the small purple, crystal bottle almost hidden behind the olive oil. “How ‘bout we try some o’ Mama Cezelia’s special oil instead?”

“Yes.”

One brow rose as his lips lifted in a devious smile. “She made this jus’ for you?”

“Yes.”

“Ah, chère, we have a good time, oui?” He lifted one of her legs, resting her foot on his chest, and drizzled a narrow lined of her secret oil from her foot to her thigh. With a grunt of satisfaction, he placed the bottle back on the counter and started swirls of decadent heat with his fingers on her leg.

Hannah took a deep breath, partially to keep herself from floating away under Sam’s ministrations and also because she loved this scent. It was made just for her with its top note of spicy jasmine followed by a mid-note of cinnamon with a nice woody cedar rounding it out. It reminded her of her fantasies of Sam—long, summer nights in her bedroom overlooking the bayou, the slow moving ceiling fan caressing her with soft breezes, and her lover’s calloused hands igniting all her secret spots.

“Mama Cezelia does nice work. She knows jus’ the scent for you...and your man.” He massaged the oil, starting with her foot, light at first and then deeper, conquering every pressure point as he worked his way up her leg. At the top of her thigh, his fingers paused. His gaze captured hers before he brushed just shy of the lips covering her clit. She almost groaned in frustration.

One side of his mouth quirked as she squirmed to move his fingers closer. Her clenched he moved down to the entrance of her pussy in a feather light touch. Her skin’s heat intensified the scents of the oil as his thumbs slid along the edges of her labia, finally flicking at her sensitive nub.

She tried to wind her free leg around him. He clasped her foot to his chest and shook his finger at her. “Non, chère, we play ma way.”

He waited until she acquiesced in stillness and then lifted her right foot, kissed the arch, nibbled her big toe, and with a smile that warned her she’d never recover from tonight, settled the leg on his thigh and lifted her left one. By the time he reached her mound.

“You ready”

“Yes, now!” she sobbed.

“No.” He brushed a thumb over her lips. She made a pass to suck it into her mouth be he evaded her with a chuckle. “I think you not ready yet. Lean back, chère. It’s time for me to taste your honey.” He placed her knees on his shoulders, tipped her back. With a growl, he brushed his face in her curls, marking her scent on him in a gesture so indicative of dominance and ownership Hannah almost came without actual contact. Then his tongue ran along the seam, spreading her lips and she mewled with pleasure. A broad finger, followed by a second, slid into her vagina, moving and out as he nipped her nub.

He pinched and rolled her nipples. His stubble chafed the inside of thighs, adding another layer of sensation as she arched into his mouth, pressing against him for more. The light pain only ratcheted her pleasure higher.

“Ah, chère, you taste better than honey.”

Her skin glistened with sweat. Yet for the first time her excessive moisture didn’t embarrass her. From his grunts, she knew he loved her responses. Finally fantasy was reality and she was so close to her orgasms edge, she was over sensitized to the point of being insensible. “I need you, Sam. Now!”

“For you, chère, anything.” He pulled her butt off the edge. “Protection?” At her groan and nod, he grinned and then rubbed his cocked against her his pre-cum mixing with her juices. She wrapped her legs around his waist as he thrust into her, releasing a long moan as her flesh accepted the thick, full length of him. Too soon, he withdrew and thankfully pushed back again.

When she tried to control the rhythm, he pressed a palm on her pelvis holding her still. “My game, my rules, chère.”

On fire and knowing he was the only one could put it out, all she could do was nod in acceptance with a moan as his thickening Cajun caused her insides to tighten.

“Good, I lead, you follow.” He maintained his maddening pace—slow and steady, accompanied by his torturous nibbling and sucking on her nipples.

Desire flamed through Hannah’s body. It burned from the soles of her feet to the last hair on her head. She arched, unable to stop herself, and locked her legs against the small of his back to drag him to her, grinding herself against him as she screamed, “Saaammm!”

Flicking her clit to extend her climax, he drove in and out several more times, then thrust home. She clamped down on him in repeated spasms, feeling the warm spurts of his cum fill her. Tears trickled from her eyes as shudders of pleasure rippled through her and black dots filled her vision.

***

Sam settled Hannah’s unconscious body in the middle of her bed. He’d folded back the covers earlier in preparation for an evening of pleasure. He looped her padded and fur-lined handcuffs through one bar of the brass headboard, raised her arms over her head, and snapped them closed around her wrists. Carefully he tested a finger under the cuff at her wrist, ensuring she had circulation. He wanted her aroused to a frenzy, not in pain from numb limbs.

Stepping back, he studied his prisoner with a grin. Discovering she wanted to explore a little kink had thrilled him. He spread a towel on the floor and laid out the rest of her things along with a few of his own. He trotted downstairs. Gathering Mama Cezelia’s special oil, the one used to excite both parties, and some ice cubes in a plastic bowl. Ah, the games they would play.

A few minutes later, he settled himself beside his lovely playmate. Non, over the months, talking about life, their love of the bayou, her love of teaching, his love of building, she had become more than a potential plaything. In the kitchen, he’d been ready to confess his last dalliance was four months ago. It would have been a lie. He hadn’t had quite the desire for another woman since he’d picked Hannah up off the ground and taken her to the doctor to get her broken arm checked. Sam brushed long strands of wavy blond hair from her face. Her perfect smile, her devious way of tempting him, and yes, her gorgeous, responsive body called to him, but she was so much more. He glanced at her toned yet softly curved hips—perfect for having babies.

He nuzzled her breasts and sucked one into his mouth to feast. Her movements beneath his cheek signaled she was awake, but he didn’t relinquish his prize.

“Sam, why am I handcuffed?”

He raised his gaze to hers innocently. “They’re your handcuffs, Chère,” he said and turned his attention to her other breast.

She arched her back and groaned. “I hoped to use them on you. I bought four sets. I wanted you spread eagle while I had my way with you.”

He reached over the side of the bed. “Next time, chère, if you’re good and follow orders. Now, I’ll teach my little almost virgin how to play with tools.” He lifted a soft furred blindfold where she could see it. “You trust me, oui?”

She pulled at the cuffs for a second with a frown then met his gaze with a smile. “Yes.”

“Bon.” He placed a set of earplugs and a bondage gag beside her oil. “You follow my orders? If you’re a bad girl, you get punished, oui?” At her wide-eyed nod, he leaned over and covered her lips with his. He sucked and nipped at her lower lip. At her slight jerk, he realized no man had ever given her a soft love bite there, but she eased into his lead on caress with a sigh. His tongue slipped inside her and tasted her—mint. She drew him in further, deeper, sucking him, possessing him, making him her slave with just one kiss.

Easing back, he stared into her eyes, memorizing the innocent trust he saw there. Well and lust. “Close your eyes, chère.” He slid the blindfold over her eyes. “Be good girl. Don’ move, don’ make a sound.” He lifted an ultra-soft, sable-hair paintbrush. He started at her fingertips, then lightly painted the inside of her arms, her breasts, and down to her navel. He chuckled as she squirmed and groaned. Right on cue.

One quick flip and he had her on her stomach.

“Sam?’

“Ah, chère, you moved and made a noise.” He lightly spanked her with his hand. First one cheek. “Bad girl,” he murmured as he soothed the bright pink blush and then slapped the other cheek. She squeezed her legs together and groaned.

“Very bad girl, you need to learn, chère. Now we have to do this.” He flipped her onto her back. Grinning, he secured her legs spread eagle on the bedposts with another pair of her handcuffs. With the mouth gag secured, she started to thrash in panic. He soothed her with kisses and gentle touches. “Trust me.” It was a full minute before she stilled. At her nod, he sighed in relief. “I will only give you pleasure, no real pain. This will all make the sensations stronger,” he said and inserted the earplugs.

He dribbled more oil on her stomach and breasts. With slow, gentle strokes, he massaged it in as he moved lower. Mama Cezelia and her oils were famous, and infamous. She designed them, individualized for each woman and the one man who would respond. The one man Mama Cezelia saw in her visions as the perfect man for that woman. The Voodoo priestess knew her business. The oil entered the flesh of both man and woman and sealed their fate. Poor, Hannah, she was now stuck with him, but he was one lucky devil.

The slippery, jasmine, and cedar-scented oil glistened over the curls of her mound. He threaded his finger through her curls as he wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and squeezed.

With her folds exposed to his hungry gaze, he pressed his face into her with a long, hard lick. He slipped one, then two, and finally a third finger in her pussy. The woman was ready, past ready...time for a new toy.

Hannah’s legs stiffened as the shock of cold slid up the ridge to her clit. A damn ice cube. If it weren’t for the gag, she’d be screaming. He drove her toward completion than backed away, only to start anew. Stretched to the point where she couldn’t move except to tighten her muscles, unable to hear or see, all she could do was feel. Every nerve burned and every muscle tensed awaiting the next action. Only one thing would relieve the pain of too much pleasure, fulfillment. The climax built within her, but just as she was ready to peak, Sam backed off.

Suddenly, her legs were free, then her mouth, ears, eyes, and finally her eyes. Glorious and beautiful, he watched her as he moved between her legs and raised her knees. The corner of his mouth quirked in amusement, but the intensity of his gaze alerted her that he was as ready as she was. He leaned down and pressed a kiss against her neck, and then her cheek before her looked into her eyes again. “We share this, chère? This is not jus’ me or you. We are together, oui?”

She rubbed her face against his neck and inhaled, buy herself a moment in an experience that was almost too powerful. “Oui.”

He positioned his cock at her entrance, threaded their fingers, and stretched her arms over her head. With a single tilt and thrust, he surged inside her, stretching and filling her. She would swear he touched her womb. Locking her legs around the small of his back, she pushed with her heels on his tight ass. “Now, Sam, now. I need you now.”

He held still. “Give me a second, chère, o’ this over before I start.” He covered her mouth with his.

She sucked on his tongue as he drove into her. A cry escaped her lips with his thrust, a gasp with his withdrawal, each arch and pump spun faster until she wasn’t certain she could breathe.

A spring within her coiled tighter, then released with his last plunge. Spasm after spasm washed over her, wave after wave, flooding her like a tsunami. Her body boiled as her core tightening around him, then loosened a bit, and tightened again as jets of cum shot into her.

Every fantasy she had ever had spiraled out of her mind. Nothing compared with the real Sam. She had just joined all of the women who smiled that secret smile when his name was mentioned after their one weekend in his arms.

God, how would she survive without him?