Cristiane Serruya - Trust: Betrayed

His breath was so uneven and shaky that Sophia smiled on his skin.

Fuck. Unable to resist, Alistair searched blindly for her hand and gripped it around his erection, curling his fingers over hers.

“I told you not to move.”

“Sophia. I’m dying here.”

She obliged him for a few tantalizing strokes.

“So. Fucking. Good,” he gasped. The relief was immediate, intense. And nowhere near enough. “That’s it, sweetheart. Now, take me in your mouth.”

Sophia stilled her hand, still gripping him tightly. “I’m a woman of my word, my lord. You moved. I have to start all over again.” She slid her hand up again. “Although, I have to confess that I quite like your cock.”

Fuck. She drives me wild when she talks like that.

But this time Sophia started with his face. Eyebrows, cheekbones, lips, the line of his nose. Her light touch was thorough and indiscriminate.

He found himself nuzzling onto her touch. He exhaled until his lungs were empty.

Her fingertip smoothed his lips and her tongue followed.

A delicate cascade of pleasure rippled through him and he raised his head and took her mouth in a desperate kiss. Her fingers plunged into his hair and he moaned. He never thought such simple and light caresses could be so arousing.

“We’re supposed to be making love,” he whispered in a strangle voice.

“That’s what I’m doing. Making love to your beautiful body.” Her voice betrayed her desire and he knew she was enjoying her power.

“You can do better.”

“I will. Patience.” Her tongue followed her fingertips down his chest and she nibbled his nipple.

He groaned.

“Better, Alistair Connor?” she mocked.

“Better.” Almost.

She licked his navel and made her way down to his straining erection.

His breath was a painful rasp in his throat. He couldn’t take much more of this. He felt her softly blowing on the head of his cock and then the wet tip of her tongue. She delicately swirled it around the broad head.

“Sophia, please.”

When her mouth found him, he let out a strangled shout, “Yes.”

It was sweet pain as she slowly glided her tongue over the smooth head. He was almost afraid to thrust up in her mouth and have her start again. She shifted on the bed, arranging herself in a better position and rested her hands on his hips. She put all her weight on her hands keeping him in place and engulfed his arousal in her mouth, sucking him in as deep as she could.

A feral need clawed its way through Alistair’s body as Sophia licked and sucked him with tantalizing movements of her mouth. She was exposing an old need that had been studded in the deepest layer of his being. And she was doing nothing out of the normal. He was being stripped bare of all his control.

She shifted again, pushing his legs wider apart and he felt her soft breasts, tipped with her chilled nipples caressing his thighs.

She delighted in the contrast of his coarse hairs with her soft skin. Alistair tasted just like he smelled, sweet and all male. And she wanted more. She wanted it all.

She wanted to show him she could make him come wildly apart in her arms. She drew him in deeper in long swipes of her head and he grunted and heaved, the sheets fisted in his hands.

Don’t stop. Please, don’t stop. “I’m going to-” He growled loudly, as her teeth grazed the head of his cock and she squeezed his balls lightly in her hand. She ran her tongue down the underside of his arousal and sucked one of his balls in her mouth, while her hand worked his length.

“Stop,” he choked out.

She took him again in her mouth and massaged his perineum with her thumb and, just like that, his control was gone.

He shouted her name as he reached for her, shoving his hands in her long hair as he came in her mouth, his hips jerking up with the force of his orgasm.

Exhausted and spent, he laid there gasping for air, struggling to make sense of what had just happened.

It seemed to him that his body had exploded in a million pieces and someone had yet to mend him.

His mind was so fuzzy that he didn’t even notice as Sophia went to the bathroom and returned with a warm moist towel. He felt her tender ministrations as she cleaned him and untied the blindfold. He blinked when the soft light of the room reached his eyes, focusing on her smiling face.

He raised on his elbows to look at her better.

“Was it good?” She was sitting by his side, naked, leaning on her hand, her feet tucked under her bent legs.

Good?! He shook his head, “Nae. It was...” How to qualify the best orgasm of one’s life? “I’ve never had such a powerful orgasm. Every time I’m with you, it gets better and better.” He pushed a lock of her long hair behind her ear and traced its shell with his finger. “You are the most incredible woman I’ve ever met.” He pulled her for a kiss.

Love is the most powerful medicine, Alistair Connor.

He broke the kiss and nonchalantly asked, “And what about your ass?”

“You owe me yours now.”

“Dream on, my lady,” he snorted. “Back to yours, you liked when I penetrated you with my finger.”

She blushed and he sniggered.

Why does he need to be so blunt? “One finger, Alistair Connor,” she snapped. “Not your... your...”

“Dick, prick, cock, shaft, rod-”

“Penis!” She jumped off the bed, her cheeks light pink.

He laughed, amused and endeared.

She shoved her hands into her hair, aggravated, “There is nothing funny about this.” She stomped her foot on the rug.

He laughed even more, “I love it when you stomp your beautiful foot. It makes me want to spank you.”

“I’m not spankable-” she paused at the weird word. “Alistair Connor, my ass is not available at the moment.”

At the moment. Mmm. That’s a good sign. “Okay, okay. No need to be mad at me. We’ll take a rain check.” His smile was wicked as he patted the bed beside him.

She crawled back to his side and sat there looking at him.

“One more thing to introduce you to, Beauty,” he mused, “I like it.”

She made a face at him.

“Now.” His eyes flashed green as he tumbled her down on the mattress with a naughty smile on his lips, “I want to... reciprocate your torture.”

Ethan Ashford’s Penthouse.

Sunday, March 21^st, 2010.

11.42 a.m.

Ethan stepped onto the veranda and leaned over the glass rail, looking down at the always busy London, in deep thought.

He was feeling melancholic and utterly alone, in spite of the beautiful woman waiting for him inside. He knew that he wasn’t like other men. He knew his inability to connect to those around him was a fault in him. He’d had this difficulty since the day he discovered his puppy dog dead. And Eve’s betrayal only made it worse. He couldn’t feel that fierce pain again. The only person that made his heart beat and his interest sparkle unselfishly was Sophia. It troubled him that he kept thinking of her so often. Even if he tried not to, his thoughts keep returning to her. He knew he needed to love someone other than her, but his heart was taken. There was no space for another woman.

All he could do was watch for clues. Small hints that could bring her back to him. He congratulated himself on how well his plans where developing.

Although he’d always been rich and had received a large inheritance when his grandfather died, Ethan endeavored to achieve the things he wanted. He took charge of his destiny and, most times, he was successful in gaining what he wanted.

“Ethan,” Barbara softly called his name, walking to his side.

He turned his eyes away from the view and was caught by the beauty of her profile. He wondered how two women could be so alike and not be sisters.

However there were small differences.

Barbara had a slightly bigger nose and less plump mouth. She was taller and had bigger breasts. And her eyes were blue as he had seen once, when she had taken out her yellow contact lenses to sleep. That was the only time she made that mistake. The next day, she had ordered new lenses she could wear when sleeping.

She put a hand on his bare forearm and caressed it with her red nails. He briefly closed his eyes and she smirked inside.

“Ethan, my dear, I was wondering if you didn’t want to have lunch somewhere? Or maybe do something different? We could go to the Royal Academy of Arts. There is a fantastic exhibit on Van Gogh and his letters. Have you seen it?” She bit her lip for a second and looked at him from behind her discretely mascara rimmed lashes. She saw his azure eyes lighten up and he pulled her in his arms for a kiss.

Barbara had done her homework. She had studied the file Scott provided her with Sophia’s work and hobbies. She had spent hours analyzing the short phone videos Scott had sent her and had repeated Sophia’s gestures and facial expressions in front of the mirror until she mimicked them perfectly. She had sent Ethan’s secretary a list of items for her wardrobe which she thought would be more similar to Sophia’s style.

Barbara had asked her best friend to help her until she was sure everything was as perfect as it could be. She had even skimmed some of the ebooks Sophia had bought recently, discovered thanks to Scott’s hacker friend. She was lucky she was a well-read woman; she wondered how Sophia managed to read so many books in so little time. As for the fitness part, she had no problems with that. Sure, she was seven years older, but she was addicted to sports and working out, had always kept in shape, had many skin treatments done and she had no kids. She seemed younger than Sophia even. Her skin was unblemished and as soft as that of a newborn baby.

Ethan broke the kiss slowly, nibbling her lip with his teeth, combing her silky hair with his fingers. Lustful thoughts of his time with Sophia played as an erotic video in his mind. He rubbed the tip of his index finger down her neck and dipped it in her neckline, skimming her bra. Her breath hitched.

He didn’t know if she was liking it or not. And he couldn’t care less. He was past those banal principals and morals. He was not interested in her feelings or emotions. He was the one that should be pleased. He was Ethan Ashford.

He had gained Barbara’s total loyalty when he lent her the money to pay the loan sharks, without interest. He made her sign a promissory note, but he hinted that if she pleased him, he would never demand payment. And she was doing a great job at pleasing him. His lips curled up. “Where do you want to have lunch?” Sophia is not in London, anyway. No chance of bumping into her or MacCraig.

“China Tang, at The Dorchester?”

Ethan’s smile grew as he recalled his lunch with Sophia there. “I love that restaurant. Make reservations for one-thirty. Then meet me in my room.” The back of his hand brushed her nipple. “I want to appease another hunger before we leave.”

Atwood House.

6.55 p.m.

“Okay, little girl,” Sophia clapped her hands at Gabriela who was comfortably seated on Alistair’s lap. “Time for bed. Now.”

“But, Mama-”

“Don’t you but me. It’s seven o’clock. Time for you to go to bed.”

Gabriela pouted at her mother and then turned her head, looking at Alistair for help. He just smiled at her and motioned his head to Sophia.

“Five minutes more, Mama, pleeeease.”

Sophia looked at her watch and sighed, “Okay. But only five.”

Gabriela beamed at her mother, “Thank you, Mama.” She turned to Alistair and asked, “Tell me another story, please?”

“A short one,” he said as Sophia sat on the sofa beside them and put Gabriela’s bare feet over her lap.

Alistair smiled at Sophia, as he started the story, “Once upon a time, there was a prince. He was very tall, handsome and rich. But he didn’t have a princess-”

“What was his name?”

“Ronnoc Riatsila,” he promptly said and winked at Sophia.

“Ugh! What an ugly name.” Gabriela puckered her turned-up nose. “Are you sure he was a prince?”

“Aye. I’m sure,” he smiled, delighted. “So. The prince was very much alone in his big, big castle. One day, he decided to hold a contest to find his bride. All the women in his kingdom would have to go.”

“Only the beautiful ones,” Gabriela said. “Princes can’t marry ugly princesses.”