Black Knight, White Queen by Jackie Ashenden Read Free Book Online Page A

you?”
    Izzy turned her head in his direction. “Uh, well, I’d be extremely appreciative. Extremely.”
    He knelt on the bed, put one hand on her thigh, feeling it quiver beneath his palm. “I don’t think so.”
    She bit her lip, shifted her leg so his fingers slid inward over her skin, thighs falling open. “Dude, you are so bloody frustrating.”
    “And you don’t do as you’re told.”
    “Well, no. That’s true.” Her mouth curved in another naughty, sexy grin. “I suppose you’ll have to punish me some more then.”
    Oh yes, he wanted to. In fact he’d begun to want to do that more than was strictly good for him.
    Slowly he let his fingers slide farther up the smooth, soft skin of her inner thigh, watching the progress of his hand as he went. She’d become flushed all over now, her pale skin a dusky pink, the gleam of moisture on her thighs. The scent of her skin, roses and musk and feminine arousal made his head spin.
    He gritted his teeth.
    Patience. Patience was everything. In the game. In life. Patience and control, and Izzy tested both. She was a good lesson to him. A test.
    Aleks stroked her inner thigh, feeling the wetness of her against his fingers. Her whole body tensed, little tremors racking her.
    He glanced up at her face. She’d caught her lower lip between her teeth, but the dark blue cotton of his T-shirt obscured the rest of her expression.
    All of a sudden he needed to see her. Needed to look into her eyes as he made her come. See that look of ecstasy light her up the way it had lit her up out in the lounge. See what it was he did to her.
    The urge puzzled him because he’d never wanted to do that with a woman before. It was far too intimate. Gave away too much of himself. He didn’t need to see what he did to her, it wasn’t about him anyway. This was about her. Concentrating on her. About forgetting the memories of that house in Santa Monica and the hard stone in his chest he refused to call grief.
    Aleks frowned. Perhaps she’d been right when she’d told him they were both escaping something. Perhaps escape was what he wanted after all.
     
    Gentle fingers slid over her intimate flesh, stroking so lightly she wanted to scream. Instead she moaned helplessly, her body shifting and arching as a thumb brushed over her clit, another finger tracing the wet folds of her sex. It wasn’t enough. Goddammit.
    Then the hand was gone, and so was he.
    “Shit,” she said thickly. “This is getting ridiculous. I don’t—”
    The rest of her protest died in her throat as a hot mouth covered her nipple. Izzy cried out, her body lifting from the bed. The pressure of his mouth suckling on her made light flash behind her closed lids, electricity in her blood.
    His hand moved between her thighs again, a finger circling her clit then stroking in a firm, hard motion as he drew on her nipple.
    “Oh…Aleks. Please…” Izzy pushed her hips against his hand. The intensity of the pleasure blinded her. This was what she wanted. Exactly what she’d been craving.
    Escape. Release.
    Then it stopped and he was gone again.
    She swore helplessly, her whole body screaming. The deep pulsing ache inside her refused to let go. Panting, she lay still, trying not to move because maybe that’s why he’d stopped. Because she’d moved.
    Closing her eyes behind the blindfold, she tried to keep control of her breathing and failed miserably. Of course she didn’t need to stay here. Easy enough to take off the scarves, untie the blindfold. Get up and walk away.
    But she wouldn’t. Right now she felt more alive than she had for months. Alive and awake, part of the world again. Not denied and ignored and invisible.
    With every touch he’d rebuilt her. Remade her. In this bed she wasn’t the sister of a suicide victim or the sole surviving daughter. She wasn’t grieving or in mourning or bereaved. In this bed she was a woman who was wanted and desired and pleasured.
    It was glorious and she didn’t ever want