Beauty and Pain Read Free Page B

boil!
    He whispered his fingers around my neck, sending a shower of delicious sensations scattering over my scalp and along my spine. He tugged at my coat, pulling it gently off my shoulders then down my arms.
    He hung it next to his.
    “Isabella,” he said against my ear, his hands once again on my shoulders and his fingers stroking the ends of my hair. “We need to establish one thing, right here, right now.”
    I nodded.
    We did.
    “Tell me,” he said, “are you a giver or receiver?” He pressed his lips harder over my ear, his warm breath soaking into my skin, seeping to my breasts and making my nipples tighten.
    Fuck, if just his breath can do that…
    “You have no idea,” he said softly, “how badly I want you to be the opposite to what I am. No fucking idea at all.” He sounded in pain, like his want was almost too much to bear.
    I pressed my arse backwards and the top rise brushed his groin. A seriously solid wedge of flesh drove into me.
    “Oh, I think I have a fair idea,” I said, thrilled at the thought of having given him an erection so soon into our encounter—and a damn fine hard-on at that.
    He let out a soft moan and seemed to push into me just a little. “Answer the question, Isabella. Now.”
    “I’m a…”
    “Spit it out.”
    “No, I’m a swallower.”
    He kind of growled, snapped his arms around my waist and chest, then dragged me into his body. My back hit his chest and my arse got full-on connection with his cock through his trousers.
    “You are only making it worse for yourself,” he snarled.
    “Or better.”
    He stilled.
    So did I.
    Now we both knew my answer. I was a receiver. There were no two ways about it. I loved pain with my pleasure—the deep muscle sort of ache and the sharp sting. It all pressed my buttons. It all got me off.
    “Isabella,” he whispered, nuzzling into my neck. “I just knew we were compatible. That you were a masochist, a sub—”
    “I’m no one’s sub.” I curled my fingers over his forearms, wished we were naked and not in office clothes. “I just enjoy a good whipping—or a thrashing—as I come.”
    He chucked, his rising and falling chest shifting me in his arms. “Okay, if that’s how you want to play, that’s cool with me.”
    “Play? Like you said, no room for anything in here, and I don’t think banging a bar of Cadbury’s on my arse is going to cut it for me.”
    “I was a Boy Scout, you know.” Suddenly he turned me within his arms and stooped so our noses were touching.
    “Pardon?” I pressed my palms against his crisp white shirt.
    “A Boy Scout. Do you know what their motto is?”
    “Er, dib, dab, dob?” I gave a mock salute.
    He tutted. “No, it’s ‘Always be prepared’.”
    As he’d spoken the last word he’d caught my mouth with his and set up a delicious dance with his tongue as he searched for mine.
    I clung to him, thoroughly enjoying the feeling of being desired, owned, swamped by a big, strong man.
    Gabriel knew how to fire up a woman’s engines and within minutes I was panting. He had inquisitive fingers, too, exploring beneath my thin blouse, up to my breasts then brushing my nipples through my bra.
    “Please,” I said, pulling back. “I want…”
    What did I want? A quick, no-strings vanilla fuck with a stranger? An arrangement to meet some other time with a bag of toys to play with? Or perhaps just this, a swift kiss and a grope, then return to our seats and hope no one noticed our flushed faces?
    “I know exactly what you want,” he said. “If you can bring yourself to trust me, just for a few minutes.”
    Suddenly the light went. His face disappeared even though he was inches from me. The clack-clack, clack-clack seemed to intensify.
    We were in a tunnel.
    As quickly as it had gone dark in our tiny world, the light shot back in.
    I was still gripping him.
    Yes, I did trust him. For some reason I did. Oh, I wasn’t about to let him tie me up and gag me, but in here, a bit of fun?