The room Laurent led him to was unexpectedly lavish. Every item in the room, from the lush oriental carpet to the Tiffany style light fixtures, screamed comfort. His heavy black boots made no sound as he came to stand in the center of the room. Folding his arms over his chest, he scanned the room. His shrewd gaze came to rest on a high backed chair set just inside the open French doors leading to the balcony. Just barely visible over the rounded edge of chair was an intricately coiffed head. Casually draped over the arm of the chair was a rather slender hand. The trio of silver bracelets she wore tinkled lightly as she turned in the chair. He caught just a glimpse of her profile before she sank back out of sight. A deep sigh left him as he shook his head.
"Don't expect me to come runnin' every time you snap your fingers." His voice carried across the quiet expanse. A moment passed before the sound of her laughter drifted to him on a soft breeze.
"Far from it, my darling Ambrose." her voice was rather soft and oddly accented. He'd never heard anything like it before. If he had to guess it was a mix of French and something else. "I'm hoping I can persuade you to assist me in a most delicate matter."
Dean's snort of disbelief elicited another throaty chuckle, "I don't do delicate."
She made a soft noise; an amused little sound that faded into the wind. The rustle of expensive fabric came to him as she shifted in the chair.
That is precisely why I have extended an invitation. I find myself in need of a man with just your talents."
What could she possibly need with a man like him? He was a fish out of water. He didn't belong here any more than he belonged on the moon. A place like this was definitely not made for him. Hell, he didn't know why he accepted the invitation in the first place.
"Yeah, well, what you need and what you get ..."
She cut him off with a wave of her slender hand. "Allow me to be frank, dearest. I'm in the business of giving people what they want. I'm afraid sometimes that's easier said than done. However, in this instance, the solution is rather simple. You have a particular charm that is rather irresistible."
Dean laughed outright at her statement. He'd been called a lot of things in his days. Charming and irresistible were never on the list.
"Yeah? You think so?"
"Without a doubt. I know you are the only man who can assist me."
Dean was surprised as the Mistress slowly rose from her chair. He caught a glimpse of a slender back and flaring hips before Laurent stepped into his line of vision.
"I don't want to spoil your fun but there is a lady who needs a firm hand; someone to teach her that pleasure can be found in unexpected ways."
That caught his attention. His eyes narrowed as he tried to see beyond Laurent's wide shoulders. What did she mean by firm hand? Surely she didn't mean what he was thinking.
"Stop talking in riddles. What do you want?" Dean's abrupt demand was met by a stern glare from Laurent. He shook his head in warning then took a step toward him.
Her voice held a note of mischief, "How well you prove my point. No more questions, my darling. You shall see soon enough. If you'll be so kind as to follow Laurent, he will show you the way."
Laurent straightened the jacket of his black suit and stood a little taller. He gave Dean a hard look before moving to the door. As he brushed past, their shoulders touched. Dean recognized it for the power play it was. He was not impressed. So what if the man was a few inches taller and outweighed him? He had little fear the Mistress' henchman would take him in fair fight. For one thing, he wouldn't fight fair. For another, he was curious to know what the crafty little witch had up her sleeve. He cast a glance at the Mistress before turning on his heel. He left the room and followed Laurent into the grand foyer. As much as he hated to admit it, the grandeur of the mansion was impressive. Marble floors gave way to arched ceilings. Their footsteps echoed in the wide expanse. Without a word Laurent crossed the foyer and started up with staircase. He followed the curve to the left.
Dean was surprised by the drastic change in surroundings. Where the foyer had been light and airy, the third floor was darker. That was the only to describe it. Dark gray walls were hung with oversized portraits. He glanced to his right then his left. Shadows flickered along the wall before disappearing above. His boots echoed eerily in the quiet. How odd that he couldn't hear a sound coming through the heavy oak doors. It was as quiet as could be. The back of his neck tingled as his senses kicked into overdrive. He didn't know what lay beyond the door Laurent stopped before. The man retrieved a brass key from his pocket.
"While it is against my better judgment, I must give you this." Laurent extended his hand outward. Before Dean could take it, Laurent's thick fingers curled around the key. "Have a care though, Master Ambrose. The moment you cause the first bit of trouble, I will gladly dispose of you."
Dean rolled his eyes at the dramatic warning. "Sure. Whatever you say."
Laurent shook his head slightly and let go of heavy breath, "While the Mistress may think you worthy, I most assuredly do not. However, we all have a duty. I've done my part. Now you, sir, shall do yours."
Dean's brow rose in question, "Duty? What duty? I didn't sign up for shit."
"As I said, we all must do our part." Laurent's stony expression never wavered. "I feel it necessary to remind you that no harm is to be rendered within these walls and at dawn you shall depart."
The threat in his words was evident. Should Dean step out of line, he would be more than happy to toss him out on his ass.
With a smirk Dean took the key. "When duty calls, who am I to refuse? Now be a good boy and run along."
Laurent's mouth shut with an audible click of his teeth. Dean knew the man was barely controlling the urge to say something. In a way, he wished he would. He'd love nothing more than to punch the over bearing monkey. But on second thought, he knew that was not the way to go. He wanted to know what lay beyond the heavy oak door. Turning his back to Laurent, he inserted the key.
The moment he stepped into the room his confidence wavered. Everything in the room was delicate and utterly feminine. From the plush carpet to the satin duvet, it screamed the fact that this was not a man's domain. Truth be told, all of the lace and satin made his skin crawl. He belonged here like duck belonged in a mine field. It just wasn't natural. What was the Mistress thinking?
His train of thought came to a screeching halt the instant his gaze landed on the center of the bed. The woman kneeling there made him forget what he was thinking. Silky brunette hair was pinned into an elaborate twist. Clear green eyes watched him with open curiosity. Her slender legs were tucked beneath her, her arms linked behind her back. She was naked; breathtakingly bared to his gaze. For a moment he was utterly dumb struck. Closing the door, he leaned heavily against it. Holy shit! He couldn't look away. She was exactly the sort of woman he preferred; tall, sleek and ready to rock. Shaking his head, he knew there was no backing down now. He wasn't leaving until they were both covered in sweat and exhausted.
Uncurling from the bed, she came to stand before him. Reaching up, she pushed at the heavy leather jacket he wore. A frown creased her brow as she realized Dean was unmoving. He leaned against the door, not moving a single muscle. Surely there was a reason he was holding back. She'd yet to meet a man that didn't appreciate her exuberant nature. Standing on tiptoes she pressed her lips to his. His lips were unexpectedly firm yet supple. Her exploration was cut short as Dean's fingers wrapped around her wrists. He pulled away before she could protest.
Dean set her back on her heels and allowed her hands to fall to her sides. He gave her a hard look. Her first instinct was to protest, to ask him to reconsider. As her lips parted Dean shrugged out of his jacket.
"I knew ..." Her words were cut off as Dean dropped the jacket on the floor. It made a muffled thump as it hit the carpet.
"Not another word." Dean's voice was low and deep. His lips quirked in a half smile as he shook his head in warning. "Not so much as a peep unless I ask."
Ivy's head dropped a fraction of an inch as she nodded.
"Good girl." The amusement in his voice was evident. While he expected obedience, he was pleased by her quick response. He took a step forward and slipped around her. The view from the back was no less impressive. Her plump, round derriere was as beautiful as he'd ever seen. Crossing his arms over his thick chest, he stood behind her.
"What is your name?"
The deep voice sent a shiver dancing along her spine. A moment passed before she responded, "Ivy."
"Pardon me? What did you say?" The authority in his voice was unmistakable. He expected more than her simple response.
"My name is Ivy." Her voice sounded a bit breathless. It was hard to take a deep breath with his gaze burning into skin.
He made a soft tsking sound under his breath. She sensed him moving closer. He stopped close enough to feel his exhale along her shoulder. The scent of soap and undiluted male came to her. It was a heady combination, making her blood heat even more. She jumped in surprise as his fingers traced upward along her spine. His touch was incredibly gentle, a mere flutter against her overly sensitive skin. He didn't stop until he reached the thick knot of her hair. His fingers burrowed into the dark strands. He tugged lightly until her head fell back against her shoulders.
"Well, Ivy, it seems someone has forgotten her manners." His voice was deceptively soft, "When I ask you a question, you will address me properly. Understand?"
Ivy bit back a low moan as his words sank in. The husky note in his voice was delicious. It made her think of expensive whiskey and imported cigarettes. Instinctively, she knew he was not the typical gentleman visitor. In fact, she was quite certain there was nothing gentle about him. He radiated danger. He had an edge that thrilled her to the core. Without a doubt he was the kind of man who knew what he wanted and wouldn't stop until he got it. The idea of being with this half tamed beast made her shiver with anticipation.
"I asked if you understand, Ivy?"
His voice was even closer now. It vibrated along her skin as he nuzzled the curve of her jaw. The scrape of his beard against her tender skin was electric. It made it impossible to think. A hazy cloud of desire fogged her senses. When no answer was forth coming the grip on her hair tightened.
"Last time I'm asking, doll. Do you understand?" He punctuated his question with a nip of her earlobe.
"Yes, Sir." The words were barely audible but pleasing none the less. Dean chuckled as he took a step back. His fingers uncurled from her hair. Instantly she missed his warmth, his subtle scent. Heavy footsteps were muffled by the carpet as he crossed the room. Leaning back against the waist high bed, he studied Ivy. He could practically see the goose bumps rising on her skin. As his gaze traveled over her golden skin, he felt the temperature rise. Ivy was a surprising little morsel; so full of life and energy. She was so very eager to please. And wasn't it lucky for her, he was in the mood to be pleased?
"Come here." Dean's voice carried across the quiet room.
He watched as she turned toward him. Her breasts swayed slightly with the movement. Her nipples drew into tight points as he watched. Biting back a groan he crooked a finger. Ivy's movements were graceful as she moved toward him. She stopped when she was within arm's reach. Without a word he pointed to the floor. There was no question what he wanted.
Her eyes grew round. A slightly wicked smile touched her lips as she sank to her knees. Her eyes locked on his belt buckle and the obvious bulge behind it. Her hands shook slightly as they reached for the thin strip of leather. The belt made a soft metallic sound as she drew the two halves apart. The sound of the zipper lowering made her heart do an odd little flip. Flicking a glance upward, she met his gaze. His clear, blue eyes had turned smoky. His cheeks were flushed. With a small nod he told her to keep going. Not needing to be told a second time, Ivy tugged the heavy denim down his thighs. A gasp of surprise left her as his cock sprang free. Never had she seen a more beautiful cock. The crown was thick and flared to wide shaft. The twin weights below were drawn tight. Unable to resist, Ivy drew her finger up the shaft. Dean's moan was low as she swirled her finger over the tip. A drop of liquid formed under her caress. Without having to be told her tongue flicked out.
The velvety softness was more than he expected. Sinking his fingers into her hair, he urged her closer.
Dean's knees nearly buckled as Ivy's pink tongue fluttered against him. She pressed a wet kiss to the tip. There was no hesitation as her lips parted and with a moan she took him deep. The vibration moved through his cock and along his spine. He forced himself not to move, to let her do the work. And he was not disappointed. Ivy set a quick pace, her tongue stroking the underside of his cock. She suckled as she moved. Her mouth conformed to his length. The warm wetness created a delicious friction. The look of utter bliss on Ivy's face was just icing on the cake. His hand tightened in her hair; holding her in place as he began to move. His thrusting was counterpoint to her movement as she took him deep. The sight of her mouth stretched wide over his cock was too much to bear.
"Look at me." The demand was harsh and breathless.
Ivy's green eyes flicked up to meet his. The passion burning in those blue depths left no doubt. He was on the edge. Swirling her tongue across the tip, she sucked hard. His thrusts became faster, shorter. With a sharp bark he came. Hot jets rained over her tongue as he emptied into her mouth. His entire body jerked as he pulled Ivy's mouth flush against him. The hand tangled in her hair abruptly shifted. The stinging pressure eased as he released her hair. His touch was unexpectedly soothing as he cupped the back of her head. Slowly, he withdrew from her mouth. Reaching down, he drew her to her feet. Turning her toward the bed, he placed her palms on the duvet. He stepped behind her, pulling her into the cradle of his thighs.
A slow roll of his hips brought his cock against the very heart of her. Her slippery flesh gave way under the steady pressure. They moaned in unison as he went deep. Ivy trembled as he pulled back and thrust deep. Her flesh was dripping, practically weeping with need. She took him easily, pulling him into her depths. A savage curse left Dean as his pace increased. He couldn't stop the waves of pleasure threatening to consume him. But this time he would not go alone. He wanted Ivy with him. He wanted to hear her scream as he pushed them past the point of no return. His hand dove between their sweat slick bodies. With his thumb he found her swollen nub and began stroking with the same rhythm as his cock.
Ivy moaned helplessly as his thrusts turned greedy. The press and drag of his cock was intensified by the quick stroking of her clit. He held total mastery over her body which had turned traitor. Bracing his weight over her, he placed a palm on her shoulder. He shifted his weight, pressing her down against the bed. The angle of his cock changed. The blunt tip found the tight bundle of nerves. Stars exploded in her vision as came. Pleasure consumed her as Dean arched over her, pounding deeper and harder. He fucked her with everything he had; wringing every ounce of pleasure from her quaking body. Tears burned her eyes as Dean thrust hard one last time and with a shout, he came again.
Dean gasped for breath as he collapsed weakly against Ivy. Every inch of his skin tingled with the glow of passion. He couldn't think straight. All he knew was the comfort of the nubile body beneath his. Not once in his life had he felt so blissfully exhausted. For the first time he felt a small measure of peace. With a deep sigh he buried his face in the crook of her shoulder. Without realizing it he placed a kiss on her salty skin. She made a soft sound of contentment as her eyes fluttered.
"Are you pleased, Sir?" Her voice was a throaty whisper.
She felt him smile against her skin. His words gave her a thrill of anticipation, "Not yet."
It was only minutes before dawn when Dean finally forced himself to leave Ivy. She was a molten puddle of satisfied female. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt so complete. For the first time in a long time he was happy.