Her Only Desire Read online

  Sighing, he raised his hand and gave each pink globe a stinging clap that rocked her against the bench.

  Mandy groaned, and her head dropped. Her back shivered.

  He walked around the bench and knelt in front of her, studying her face.

  Gone was her bravado. Her blue eyes were moist.

  Boone softened at her tears. “Sweetheart, do you know what you did to displease me?”

  Her lower lip trembled. “I sucked your toe when you didn’t ask.”

  “That’s not everything, dear. Your expressions give you away. When you really want something, you try to maneuver your Dom into giving it to you. It’s called topping. You play at submitting, but you haven’t learned any discipline.”

  “But I want to learn.” She bit her lower lip, likely knowing she’d once again broken protocol by speaking out of turn.

  He arched a brow. “Do you? Really?”

  “Yes, please, sir,” she whispered. “Teach me?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not taking you on, Mandy. I don’t have the time. But I don’t want to leave you unfulfilled. The next time you play, watch that mouth,” he said, tapping her bottom lip. “No pouting. No glaring. Don’t make a move unless you’re instructed. How’s your bottom feel?”

  Her lips twisted. “Burns, sir.” Her gaze went to his flagging cock and she sighed. “I don’t want to leave you disappointed in me.”

  His lips quirked at her childish tone. “Then there’s hope for you. Will you do whatever I ask? No complaints or pouting?”

  She nodded, her expression growing more hopeful.

  “I need a bit of a workout.”

  Her eyes brightened. “I’d enjoy a flogging, sir.”

  Really? Boone grunted. The lesson had gone completely over her head. He heard Serge’s chuckles and shook his head. “Then how about practicing a bit with me. I’ll flog you until I think you’ve had enough. You’ll forget all about rules and simply give yourself to me. No holding back. We’ll both get what we need for now.”

  Sniffing, she nodded.

  Boone went to the cupboard and opened it, searching among the implements mounted on pegboard backing for just the right flogger. He chose one with long purple strands made of deer hide and another of a stiffer suede.

  When Boone returned, Serge stood beside her with his arms crossed over his chest.

  Boone leaned toward him and whispered, “Get a bench ready to place in front of her. I want you to fuck her mouth.” He tapped Mandy’s ass. “Don’t you dare bite my friend.”

  A choked giggle made him smile, and Boone relaxed, forgetting about the problems waiting at Maison Plaisir.

  Summoning a pleasant image of Tilly Floret with her clothing askew, her dewy eyes wide, and her mouth begging, he swatted Mandy’s sweetly rounded bottom with the deer-hide flogger, striking side to side in a steady rhythm that had her moaning in delight, her pussy drenched. While careful not to strike one spot too often, he worked, warming her backside, her back and thighs, the steady strokes calming his mind.

  When she lay limply draped over the bench, her sighs soft and thready, he bent toward her ear, whispering, “Serge will give you his cock. Pleasure him with that pretty red mouth.”

  He nodded to Serge, who placed a bench in front of Mandy’s lowered head and dropped his trousers. Taking a seat, he gripped his cock and slowly fed it into Mandy’s waiting mouth.

  Boone tossed down the deer-hide flogger and picked up the next one. He slapped the flanges against his palm, liking the sting and the sharper sound it made.

  Mandy’s bottom lifted, anticipating the first stroke.

  The marks he and Serge had left so far would fade quickly. Her skin was warm, but not a single welt had been raised. That was about to change. By the time they left her, she’d have tender stripes and knots she’d feel acutely for days. Then perhaps the point he wanted made would stick.

  Mandy had a fiery spirit. Some Dom might treasure it, but she wasn’t a true submissive. If someone wanted a woman who begged for punishment but would never truly give herself into another’s care, she’d be perfect.

  She wasn’t for him, though. Before he’d even entered the room, he’d known it. His interest was locked on a different target—Tilly Floret. He wouldn’t find true satisfaction until Tilly knelt at his feet and declared her willingness to serve. It would probably be a long seduction, requiring patience on his part, as he introduced her to his world and peeled away her layers to hold her mind and body in thrall.

  At the thought of Tilly, a fierce hunger coursed through Boone. His cock stirred, filling and lengthening. He paused in the whipping to stroke his shaft with the suede flanges, root to tip, then gave Mandy’s ass straight up-and-down pops with the ends of the flanges.

  She gave a muffled cry and her bottom wriggled.

  Serge gritted his teach and petted her head. “Watch the teeth, sweetheart.”

  Boone watched her head as it bobbed over his friend’s rigid shaft, and imagined his own being sucked just as eagerly, wet slurps and thick groans accompanying each strong tug of a feminine mouth.

  Again, he popped her, choosing a new spot, and then rubbed it, feeling the heat and the slight rounding. She’d have a bruise there. He pushed his thumb at the center of the rising knot and watched as her pussy released a fresh wash of fluid.

  She’d said she was willing, liked a little pain. She certainly hadn’t been lying.

  He dropped the flogger, her lesson forgotten as his own lust deepened. How long would it take to lure Tilly to his bed? How many nights would he sit before the security monitor, watching her bedroom, imagining every faint moan she made in her sleep bore his name?

  With quick moves, he rolled a condom onto his dick, lubed up, and knelt on the bench behind her. He pulled the plug from her ass and nudged the widened hole. Then, with a narrowed glance at Serge, whose mouth was smirking, he thrust slowly inside her ass.

  The grip of her tiny muscles caused his breath to hiss between his teeth. He palmed both cheeks and pressed them apart to ease the constriction around him as he tunneled deeper.

  Her buttocks quivered, her thin moans coming faster as her head continued to move up and down at the same speed.

  “Jesus, she’s gonna suck me dry,” Serge groaned, his eyes squeezing shut.

  Boone dug deeper, giving her short, deepening thrusts until his groin was snug against her. He slipped a hand between her body and the bench, curling his fingers to find her clit.

  At first contact, her body jerked, and a shiver worked its way down her spine. She was plenty wet, her pussy soaked with silky fluid. He dipped his fingers inside, keeping time with the gentle rocking of his hips, and fingered her tightening little bud.

  Mandy’s cries became muffled, choking sobs.

  Serge wouldn’t let her up. He palmed the back of her head and kept her working, even while she quickly flew apart.

  Boone leaned over her back and gave her sore bottom a hard pinch. “You can’t come until Serge does. Do you hear me?”

  She bobbed her head, and then wagged her face side to side, sinking deeper on Serge’s shaft.

  His friend’s body hardened, the muscles of his chest and abdomen bunching, sweat gleaming on his skin. “Close,” he gritted out.

  Boone leaned away and slipped three fingers in Mandy’s pussy while applying pressure to her clit with his thumb, and continued fucking her with ever-sharpening strokes. He’d force her over the edge—see if she could hold back just long enough to first give Serge what he needed.

  Serge’s head fell back, a low groan sounding. His fists gripped the bench where he sat as he pumped up into her mouth, spending himself inside her.

  The moment the tension in Serge’s body eased, Mandy sobbed and bounced shallowly on the bench, grinding her ass against Boone, her pussy clenching hard around his fingers. Her orgasm was fierce and hard.

  When she peaked, Boone pulled free and bent to release her hands and ankles. He slid off the used condom, and rolle
d another on. “Push up on your arms.”

  “Can’t,” she sobbed. “I’m shaking.”

  “Do it anyway if you want me to fuck you.”

  Mandy shook her head in silent protest, but pushed up, changing the angle of his thrusts.

  Boone pressed against her engorged lips, and pushed between them, sinking deep. He had a straight shot toward her womb. Her engorged slit cushioned the end of his hard strokes.

  Boone gripped her hips. “Serge, flick her nipples.”

  As Serge leaned forward to play with her clamped breasts, Boone gathered her hips and pulled her down his cock at the same time he thrust upward. Hammering hard, he bounced her against his groin. When her cries grew louder, he slipped a hand around her belly and toggled her clit. His body tightened the moment she screamed and crested again. His balls exploded; cum spurted in steady scalding spurts.

  When he could draw a breath, he pulled out and padded toward the shower. He shook out a towel and wrapped it around his waist. As he walked toward the door, Serge rose and lifted an exhausted Mandy in his arms to carry her to the bed and give her the gentle aftercare she’d earned. He gave Boone a wink and then gently removed the clamps from her nipples.

  With the sound of her heartfelt groan of appreciation, Boone let himself out the door and headed to the locker room. His body was sated, but his mind was already racing. Making plans for a sexy campaign to bind a woman to him—one who didn’t have clue how to handle his darker appetites.

  He’d show no remorse. But he would give her gentleness. He’d be merciless, relentless in his pursuit, but she’d be lavishly rewarded.

  Smiling to himself, he reached into a stall and turned on the spigot. Tilly Floret might suspect he wanted her, but she didn’t know just how far he’d go to possess her.

  Chapter Five

  The next morning, a knock sounded on Tilly’s front door. Having just finished a light breakfast of buttered toast and coffee, she tightened the belt of her bathrobe and headed to her door. A moment later, she wished she’d peeked through the peephole before opening it.

  Boone Benoit stood on her porch.

  Her throat dried. She touched her hair, groaning inside because she hadn’t showered or even combed her hair. Feeling at a distinct disadvantage, she eyed his dress shirt and dark trousers, his neatly combed dark hair, and the gleam in his cool blue eyes.

  Forcing some starch into voice, she lifted her chin. “Do you follow up with every prospective employee personally, Mr. Benoit?”

  “I couldn’t wait for an answer.” With a narrowed gaze, he glanced at his watch. “I have a helicopter being fueled now. We leave in forty minutes.”

  Her mouth gaped. “We? Seriously? I haven’t said yes.”

  “But you planned to, right?” He waved a hand. “Go dress. Wear something casual. We’re heading to a conference in a private compound, so don’t worry about putting on a suit. Unless it’s a bikini,” he said, a dark brow arching. “You might get a chance to catch a swim in the pool.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t leave at the drop of a hat. And it would take a sight longer than forty minutes to bathe, dress, and pack.”

  “No need to pack. Jump in the shower and dress. I’ll have everything you need brought to the villa. Hurry up, Tilly.” He pushed through the door.

  His actions forced her to back away or be pressed against his chest.

  His gaze swept the small living area. “Is the furniture yours?”

  “No, it’s Mrs. Nolan’s.”

  He gave a nod, seeming relieved.

  Did her home not meet his higher standards? She straightened her shoulders. “Mr. Benoit—”

  “Boone.”

  “Boone, I’m not going anywhere with you. Not right now.”

  His gaze swung back. A frown dug a line between his dark brows. “Why not?”

  “Because I haven’t said I’ll work for you, and you haven’t given me notice of any travel plans.”

  Both brows rose. “I told you now.”

  “Precisely.” She stared. “Does everyone jump when you say?”

  He shrugged, and then gave her a grin.

  That grin surprised her because the gesture seemed almost boyish.

  He sighed and raked a hand through his hair. “Look, something’s come up. Last-minute business. I’m in a hurry.”

  Muscles tensing, she folded her arms over her chest. “And I’m not.”

  His mouth pursed. “If I ask nicely, will you shower and get dressed?”

  “I was going to do that anyway before you came. If you leave, I can continue with my plans.”

  “You’re coming with me.”

  She fisted her hands and glared. “You’re impossible.”

  “Tilly,” he said, “I can make anything possible. Was the salary not enough?”

  His voice had softened into a seductive rumble. First he bullied, now he was trying to cajole her? She sputtered. “The salary was ridiculous.”

  “Want me to lower it?”

  “No!” Her chin jutted upward.

  He shrugged. “Then you’ve agreed.”

  “That I will come to work for you, yes. But—”

  He raised a finger. “No buts. Get showered.” He sat on the arm of her couch. “I’ll wait.”

  She realized her mouth was agape and closed it with a snap. Then, giving him a glare, she retreated to her bedroom and locked the door.

  “Fifteen minutes,” he called.

  Fifteen minutes! Her answer had never been in doubt. Stalling had been a salve to her pride. He likely knew it. His persistence despite her stubborn refusals sent an odd surge of excitement zinging through her veins.

  She flew out of her robe and pulled her nightgown over her head. She rushed to her closet and pulled out the first thing that met his specifications—a baby-blue sundress and white sandals. In a flash, she searched her drawers for pretty white underwear and a lacy bra, not something that she wore every day, but which would give her confidence a little boost, and then headed to the shower.

  Fifteen minutes later, she skimmed her lips with pink gloss and stood back from the steamed-up mirror. Her hair was still wet, so she’d pulled it into a ponytail. It would have to dry on the trip. Because she hadn’t had time for much makeup, she’d brushed blush on her cheeks, dabbed her eyelids with pale gray shimmer, and brushed mascara on her lashes.

  So she didn’t look sophisticated. He’d just have to deal. Next time, he could give her a little warning.

  Picking up a straw handbag, she let herself out of her bedroom, careful not to open the door too wide so he wouldn’t see the mess she’d left in her wake.

  Boone glanced up from where he still sat, his ankles crossed in front of him, his dark lashes lowering as his gaze swept her.

  A blush heated her cheeks, and a secret thrill ran through her body. “I’d have managed better with a little more time.”

  “You look perfect.” He straightened and held out his hand. “Give me your keys.”

  She shook her head. “Why?”

  “I’m having a crew move you while we’re away.”

  “M-move me?” Her heart and mouth stuttered. “Where?”

  “To the estate. I’m giving you the old foreman’s house. It’s newly renovated. You’ll be quite comfortable.”

  Her mind whirled. He wanted her to move to Maison Plaisir? Impossible! The thought of living so close, of never escaping his attention or having time away to fortify her resistance, left her shaking. She shivered, trying to think of a reasonable argument. “But I have six months on this lease.”

  He waved a hand. “My man will settle with Mrs. Nolan. I’ll need you close at hand. Your keys…”

  Feeling a little shell-shocked, she went to the key holder beside the door and began to slip off the house key.

  A large hand closed around hers and took the entire ring. “Don’t worry about a thing. Your car will be moved too.” Then he reached around her and turned the doorknob.

  A hand
settled against the small of her back and guided her out the door and down the steps. She went as docile as a lamb.

  Tilly angled her head toward her landlady’s window to see Mrs. Nolan with her nose pressed against the window. The whole town would know she’d left with Boone Benoit. Blood pounded in her ears. And, good Lord, she hadn’t yet informed Mae she was quitting the restaurant. She drew away from his hand. “I can’t go. I have things I have to do. Mae doesn’t know I’m quitting.”

  “Jonesy’s already informing Mae Baillio you’ve left her employ.”

  Anger flickered inside, warming her. “You had no right—”

  Boone stepped closer, sucking away her air. “Don’t fight me, Tilly. You were going to say yes. I’m making this easy.”

  This was happening too fast. She blinked at him—trying to read his expression, the stillness of his features, the rigidness of his posture. It would be easier not to have to face Mae or Leon or anyone else in the town. They’d try to dissuade her. Remind her about family loyalty. To them, she’d be working for the man who murdered her cousin. She was the only one who believed he hadn’t—she’d never believed it. She’d remembered his kindness with Denny, his patience over her cousin’s mercurial mood changes. Instinctively, she’d known Boone Benoit was no cold-blooded murderer. And now she possessed a clue, something that pointed at another suspect. Although the direction it pointed was one she couldn’t think about without being sick.

  Boone stayed quiet as she composed herself, and then stepped back and bent his arm, offering it.