When I'm with You (Because You Are Mine #2)(95)

“The narrowed stem will keep it secure once it’s inserted,” he said, obviously noticing her trepidation and curiosity.

“You mean . . . while we go out?” she asked shakily as he used one of his hands to part an ass cheek. She shivered when he pressed the tip against her anus. It felt cool against the nerve-packed tissue, the pressure stimulating.

“Of course while we go out. No one will know but you. And me, of course. I’m assuming by your reactions that you are a virgin here?”

“If I was a virgin in the other location, do you really think I’d not be one for this?” she asked, exasperated. His low chuckle caused goose bumps to rise along her neck.

“You give head like a seasoned professional, Elise. How am I to know what sexual escapades you got yourself into? I am pleased, though,” he added gruffly, “that you saved this for me.”

His voice rang in her head. That you saved this for me.

He pushed the tip into her ass and her eyes sprang wide.

“Lucien, I don’t think—”

“Stay still,” he instructed harshly when she shifted. He put his hand on her hip, immobilizing her.

“Oh,” she gasped as he gently sawed the slick plug back and forth for a moment, pushing the thicker part farther into her ass with each pass. She moaned uncontrollably. He pushed, and finally the rubber plug was submerged, the base pressed snugly against her buttocks. Lucien caressed a hot ass cheek and she glanced back at him.

“It feels so strange.”

His hand slid around her hip. Her lower lip trembled when he casually flicked his forefinger against her swollen clit. Her ass muscles clenched around the clamp as pleasure stabbed through her.

“Strange?” he queried.

She wondered if he noticed the flush of heat that rose in her cheeks. “Strangely good,” she admitted grudgingly.

He smiled and removed his hand. He started to pull her skirt down over her ass.

“Stay still,” he said sharply when she tried to stand and assist him. He lowered the fabric down slowly over her stinging buttocks, his actions striking her as highly sensual. She remained bent over the bed as he smoothed the fabric around her hips and ass, the movements applying a subtle pressure to the butt plug, exciting her further.

“Ready?” he asked her when he raised her to a standing position and brushed a tendril of hair off her heated cheeks. She watched, going very still, as he removed the medium-sized plug from the box and slipped it into his jacket pocket. He placed a small bottle of lubricant in the other pocket. Her gaze darted to meet his stare.

For this?

“Not really,” she whispered.

He took her hand and kissed a knuckle, even that small gesture sending off fireworks in her overly sensitive body.

“Don’t worry. You will be,” he assured in a low voice that felt like knuckles gently rasping her spine.

Chapter Fourteen

Lucien unlocked the back door of Fusion and opened it for Elise to enter.

“Are we picking something up?” Elise asked him as she trailed him down the long hallway past his office a few seconds later.

He glanced back to answer and his gaze remained glued to the sight of her. He’d never seen her lips and cheeks so pink. She was the very image of a stunning, intensely sexually aroused woman. He had to force himself to look ahead before he stumbled over his own feet. He’d seen her slight wince when she’d sat down in the car earlier and had worried the plug was causing her discomfort. By the time he’d pulled out of the parking garage, however, her color had deepened, and he’d recognized her arousal. If her vivid cheeks and lips hadn’t told him, the teasing hint of her erect nipples visible even through the barrier of the fitted jacket would have informed him loud and clear what Elise experienced.

“No, you said you wanted to dine here,” he reminded her quietly as they entered Fusion’s empty, hushed dining room. “I arranged for the kitchen to be opened and a meal to be served just for us.”

“You didn’t call Denise to cook on her day off, did you?” Elise asked, clearly perplexed as she noticed the light on in the distant kitchen.

“No,” Lucien assured, leading her to a secluded private booth he reserved for his own use or for special guests when they requested it. He nodded toward the circular booth. Elise carefully sat and inched toward the middle of the candlelit table, draped with a white cloth.

“Then . . . who is cooking?” she asked when she’d settled and Lucien scooted in next to her.

“I think you’ll approve of the chef. He used to live in Paris. He and his partner, Richard St. Claire, owed me a favor, and they seemed very willing to even things up between us. Ah . . . here is Richard now.”

A very handsome dark-haired man with the slender build and light step of a dancer approached their table carrying a bottle of wine, his fingers twined around the stems of two wineglasses. He set down his burden on the table, smiling broadly. Lucien stood and the two men exchanged a warm greeting in French, shaking hands. Richard took Elise’s hand when Lucien introduced her.

“I hear tonight is a special occasion. So Lucien has finally found someone worthy of him,” Richard said, grinning slyly before he brushed his lips across her knuckles. “Emile and I have said forever that no such creature exists. I will be glad to tell him we were wrong.”

“Emile?” Elise asked, politely bewildered.