Curio by Cara McKenna Read Free Book Online Page B

might be if they gave in and asked me for that. If I know a woman who only demands rough sex in the dark, I fantasize about taking her slowly in the daylight, face-to-face. It’s not my job to challenge my clients, only to obey. But I imagine what could be, if they let me push them just beyond their boundaries.”
    I wondered what my own boundaries were. Anal, certainly. Anything that reeked of lad mags and thongs and the tacky Girls Gone Wild culture of woman-as-porn-star.
    “What are you imagining now?” I asked.
    “I don’t need to. You’re right here, already testing your limits. I love that I’m showing you these new things.”
    “What things do you think I’d be afraid to do with you?”
    “It is too soon to tell. And there are too many things you want but have denied yourself. I want those, first. What does it mean to you, to watch me now?”
    “I guess… I’ve never seen this in person. I never thought I might have anything to do with a man being this excited. It makes me feel sort of…full of myself.”
    Didier smiled. “I like that. I want you to feel that way. When I come, I want you to know that it’s from you, only.”
    “Show me.”
    He nodded and looked to his hand, drawing my attention down with his.
    “You’re so big.”
    “I haven’t felt this way in ages, this hard. You’ve kept me so close, for so long. It hurts, I want to come so much.”
    My chest swelled with pride, to imagine this was true.
    “Do you like that you’ve done this to me?” he asked.
    “Yeah.”
    “I wish you could feel how hard you’ve made me.” His strain was audible, the uttered words harsh and hoarse. “Fuck.”
    I squeezed his broad legs and slid my palms higher, mere inches from his cock. I gasped as his free hand covered one of mine, holding it tight against his warm, damp thigh.
    All at once, he lost control. I could see the unraveling of him, in his jerking arm and twitching hand, his clenching muscles and wild eyes.
    “Caroly.” His breathy voice matched his disbelieving face.
    I shuffled closer, my arm brushing his as I reached out to touch his stomach, to feel that most coveted landscape of male beauty.
    “You’re so strong.”
    “No,” he groaned. “I’m helpless.” The hand covering mine clasped my fingers, the muscles beneath my other palm clenching. His perfection ripped apart at its seams, mouth trapped in a silent gasp, gorgeous face flushed and contorted. He let go a final moan, and his hips bucked as he gave in. I took my hand away as the come streaked his belly, white against his flushed skin, more with each body-quaking spasm. I wished he might draw my trapped hand up to touch it, but his intuition was long gone with his composure. His body went slack, arched back relaxing against the covers.
    He let my hand go and reached for a cloth on the side table, wiping himself clean. He folded it neatly and set it aside, closing his eyes. For a minute our breathing was the only noise.
    “Thank you,” I finally said.
    He swallowed, blinking hazily. “And thank you. For asking me to be the first man who showed you that.”
    “You’re very different when you’re like that. All worked up.”
    “I’m sure.”
    “It’s fascinating. You’re so… I don’t know, graceful, I guess. I liked watching you come apart.”
    “Just as I like fantasizing about a woman, aroused by the things she most denies herself. So much of taboo is in the contradictions.”
    I smiled at him. “That’s very philosophical.”
    Didier laced his fingers together atop his ribs, gazing up at the canopy.
    “I’d like to stay a little longer,” I said quietly. “Unless that’s awkward now.”
    “Not at all. I’m yours until the dawn. Just give me a moment to collect myself.”
    “No rush.”
    No rush indeed. I reclined a few inches to his side and we lay in companionable silence for a half-hour or longer. Eventually he dressed and we returned to the living room, along with the candles. We finished the