Masters & Lovers Box Set Three

As we finish the meal, I draw the curtains, the short winter day already fading. The flames set light and shadow dancing across the room. They flutter over her hair, gilding the highlights, deepening the lowlights as she sits on the thick rug by the hearth, her legs tucked under her.

“You want to make love,” she whispers. It’s not a question.

“Yes. You?”

“Yes.”

We need no more words.

Her mouth is a sensual curve as she rises. I slip my hand into hers, leading her to the bedroom, and her lips a little parted, she follows.

Her face raises to mine, reaching for me. And it’s not the hooker with her client. It’s Mitch…

My Mitch…

… wanting me…

Our lips brush, then press. She’s warm, her flesh yielding, soft and tasting of the wine. Her fingers tangle into my hair and her mouth opens, the kiss deepening.

The music, soft and evocative spills through from the lounge. I pull her to me, but abruptly she breaks away, kicking off her shoes, and barefoot, she dances. Languidly, beautifully, slowly, she dances for me.

She’s hypnotic, spell-binding; weaving sorcery as I watch, with the music and the swaying of her body…

The dress, its teal-green silk, whispers as she moves. Her long hair is a cloud of red and gold, and her emerald eyes are jewels.

She reaches for me, her long pale arms outstretched, and laughing for sheer joy. “Dance with me?”

Taking her in my arms, one hand at her shoulder, the other nested at the base of her spine, together we sway and glide to the music which trickles around us.

So close, she smells of some perfume she’s wearing. It rises from within the silk like a drug, and like a drugged man, I stoop to lift her and carry her to the bed.

“Do you like it?”

“Like what?”

“The apartment.”

“Yes, you have a lovely home.”

“It's not my home. I bought it for you.”

She stiffens.... “What?”

“It’s not mine. It’s yours. I bought it for you. The deeds are in your name.”

“Put me down.”

“Mitch…”

“Put me down, you bastard.”

Confused, I release her, helping her stand again. She pulls away from me, her eyes slitting. “What the fuck are you playing at?”

“Mitch, it’s a gift. That’s all. I just wanted to give you what you deserve.”

“Don't you try to trap me,” she hisses. “Don't you dare try to trap me. Was that the plan all along? Get the little bird in its golden cage? Make me beholden to you? Own me?” She snatches up her shoes, jamming her feet inside. “You can go to hell!”

“Mitch. I didn't... I want to make you free. Give you choices...”

“Choices, eh?” she snarls. “The main one to be your chattel. Your property…”

“No.”

“Yes!”

“No. Mitch, it’s a gift, no more than that.”

“An apartment? Just a gift? Flowers and chocolates, yes. Even jewellery…” She grabs up behind her neck, fumbling at the clasp of the necklace of emeralds before tugging it away and tossing it onto the bed.

“Yes, just a gift.”

hip, head tilted back. “All right, so I can just accept all this…” She sweeps an arm around the room and to the door… “… and then tell you to get out

do that. Mitch,

says. “This has gotten thoroughly out of hand. I can’t imagine what you thought you were doing.” She turns,

you. I’ve put it in your name. Like it or not, legally it’s

You actually did

what I have to say to convince you. It’s yours. Legally. A gift. To you. From me. If you did throw me out of

falls,

away for the next couple of weeks. I wouldn't be here.” Her eyes shift to mine. “You'd be free to think. To

still, almost frozen, save for the

Without you having to... work.”

again. “My own

happy. It's

this then? Am I supposed to be your

to be. You could if you wanted. I’d be happy with that. But you’d own an extra property. You could rent it out. Live off that. Or you could paint. Sell your work. You have a real talent. And you’d be able to spend as much time as

me sidelong, listening, but some of the heat is

You saw that. I didn't make assumptions.” The tension eases from her. Before my eyes, she’s relaxing. “Come have some more

we’ll sit. We’ll talk.

That’s all I’m

*****

the cold embrace of one

the blankets. “Got those pyjamas here?” she asks. She’s wearing

“I do, yes.”

we sleep in the same

*****

that I’m being watched. My eyes snap open

supposed to make of

“Anything you want, Mitch.”

meet mine. “Where were we

arms around her shoulders, I pull her close. “I want you.” I move a hand

is a honeyed growl. “I thought we'd agreed we would make

“Are the two incompatible?”

into the waistband of the pyjamas, “Get rid of

tug the damn things away and she Mmmms, running a fingertip over my length, then gliding circles over the head. I can’t help myself, groaning and gasping as the pleasure

the shirt dangling to cover her vee’d thighs. She doesn’t touch me, doesn’t take me inside herself, but the heat of her bathes me, my shaft basking in the

she slips open the bottom button of the shirt, then the second. Slowly

me before, when I was paying her, when she was just the woman I’d rented for a few hours. But now, there

Is that all?

Affection… perhaps?

She likes me.

She does like me…

all it

Could it be more?

Be patient…

contrast to the valley between. I raise my arms, warm flesh filling each

Aroused?

Yes…

that did

I’m sure of it…

…

…

Take your time…

Take her slowly…

thrust up, to jack-hammer into her, to fill her with myself,

What I want…

really want, is that moment; that moment of careening perfection that sends her reeling and me tumbling

her belly taut under my touch, but it’s not the tension of stress or denial.

She wants me…

She wants me….

the delicate skin of her thighs, working inward. With the other, I draw long, soft strokes inside, the lightest

falls

and it is the sweetest sound