You won’t stop me?’ she said, her voice sounding oddly husky.

‘I will keep my hands exactly where they are,’ he promised.

‘You don’t look like you need any aphrodisiac lotion,’ she told him. ‘But you did say that it tasted good, didn’t you?’

Zoey’s heart started thudding madly in her chest as she knelt up beside him, then tipped the bottle gently sideward’s, letting the creamy lotion drip onto him.

He gasped.

‘Cold?’ she asked cheekily.

‘Something like that.’

‘I think that’s enough,’ she said.

‘I agree,’ he muttered under his breath.

‘Now, now—you’re not to complain, but to enjoy,’ she chided as she put the bottle down on the bedside table. ‘This was your idea, remember?’

‘Maybe I made a mistake.’

‘Not by the look of you.’

He groaned when she bent and licked him with her tongue-tip.

They were right, Zoey thought, somewhat dazedly. It did taste good—somewhere between olives and apples.

Definitely an aphrodisiac as well: it made her want to make love to him with her mouth. All the way.

A wave of heat flushed her skin as she bent her head to him again. First she swirled her tongue around, several times, then she began to slowly take him into her mouth, holding him firmly at the same time with her lotion-slicked hand.

He groaned, and twisted his hips from side to side. But he didn’t try to stop her.

Zoey set up a relentless rhythm with her mouth, shocking herself by how much she enjoyed hearing the tortured sounds he began making.

It wasn’t till he called out her name that she gave him some respite.

‘Is there something wrong, lover?’ she asked, as she sat up and pushed her hair back from her flushed face.

‘You’re treading a fine line there,’ he warned her, his breathing ragged. ‘I suggest you move on.’

Zoey’s eyebrows lifted, his last words bringing a sudden stab of resentment.

That’s what I’ve been trying to do ever since you left me, George. Move on. Yet here I am, in bed with you again. And it’s all such an appalling waste of time.

Zoey’s thoughts infuriated her—mostly because she knew she was incapable of walking away right now. She was way too excited.

But perhaps he was right: she wanted him inside her again.

At the same time, she liked the tension she saw in his face. It pleased her to know she could make him suffer, even if it was only physically. She vowed to take her time with him, to make him wait.

‘Have to go to the bathroom, lover,’ she said. ‘Won’t be too long. Just lie back and relax.’


George grimaced when she climbed off the bed and padded her way across the gold carpet.

How could he possibly relax?

He tried some deep, even breathing, his eyes clinging to the bathroom door, willing it to open, Desperate for  her to come back. But when the door finally opened, and she re-entered the bedroom, she Didn’t rejoin him on the bed. Instead, she slipped into her high heels and went back into the bathroom.

A minute later she was back, a glass of champagne in her hand, her walk slow and sexy as she undulated towards the bed. As his gaze raked over her George’s desire to touch was so acute that his hands instinctively began to move.

‘Hands behind your head,’ she snapped.

Her imperious attitude stunned him, as did the way it turned him on. But even as the blood roared around his veins he longed for that moment when he could take control again—when he could once again show her who the master here was.

‘I’m beginning to see that there is more pleasure in taking than receiving,’ she purred, a truly wicked smile pulling at her lips.

Any secret hope on George’s part that she might have come here tonight for reasons other than sex evaporated in the face of that smile.

He swore quietly when she climbed up onto the bed and straddled him, her high heels still on, the glass of champagne still in her hands. As he stared up at her his level of arousal shot past pleasure, entering the world of near pain.

‘Just you wait,’ he warned her darkly.

‘Now, now. Just be a good boy and keep those hands of yours right where they are.’

His pulse-rate went wild as she remained kneeling above him, holding his stricken gaze as she repeatedly put her finger into the champagne and then into his mouth.

Finally she put the glass down, took him into her hands and pushed him up inside her, not letting him go till he’d been totally enveloped by her body.

George moaned at the heat and the moistness of her.

He did not expect her to lean down and kiss him at that stage. That was not what she was here for. But was it the tenderness of her kiss which changed his mind on that score? Or the way she murmured his name against his lips? Whatever—his heart seemed to flower open in his chest, bursting

with feelings he’d been trying to suppress.

When he moaned under her mouth, she abruptly terminated the kiss.

‘I suppose this is what you want?’ she said sharply, and she straightened, her eyes turning wild as she began to move.

He wanted to tell her that, no, it was not what he wanted. But his tortured body had a mind of its own. He struggled to stop himself from coming, not wanting her to see him lose control.

‘Total surrender, George,’ she grated out as she slowed to a more sensual pace. ‘That’s the name of this game. I know. Because I’ve been there…done that. You took me there. You don’t want to give in…you’re afraid that somehow you’ll never be the same. And you could be right. I’ve never been the same. You ruined me for any other man.’

He heard her words, and understood what she was saying. But if he’d ruined her for any other man then she’d ruined him. She’d always been there in the back of his mind. Always.

Maybe they didn’t love each other any more, but they could—if they gave themselves a chance.

What he had to do was tell her the total truth. How he’d never forgotten her either. How he hadn’t run into her by chance. He’d deliberately sought her out.

But no words came from his mouth at that moment. Only raw, naked sounds of desire.

He lasted till she climaxed. After that there was no contest, his back arching from the bed as their bodies shuddered as one.

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