Miranda Lee - It Started With One Night

The sash on his robe was as easy to undo as her own, being only looped over. Pushing the sides of the robe back was not so easy, because she knew what would confront her when she did so.

Her eyes widened at the sight of him.

So his apparent uninterest had all been a lie! He was already aroused. Fiercely so.

Tara resisted the urge to close her eyes and put her mind elsewhere. Her days of cowardice were over. She would look at him there, and touch him there, and kiss him there.

Yet oddly, once she started stroking the velvety length of him, once she felt Max quiver and grow even harder beneath her hands, any reluctance or revulsion melted away. Tara found herself consumed by the intense desire to make the beast emerge in him again, to drive him wild with pleasure and need, to love him as she had never loved him before.

Max could not believe it when she took him into her mouth, making the blood roar through his veins, his flesh expand even further, threatening to make him lose all control.

Surely she would not want that. Surely not!

Max groaned his worry that he might not be able to stop himself. Then groaned again when her head lifted, showing him that he had wanted her to continue more than anything he had wanted in a long time.

But any disappointment was swiftly allayed by her crawling up onto the chair onto his lap. She was even at that moment straddling his tautly held thighs, her knees fitting into the far corners of the chair.

He gasped when she took him in her hands again and directed him up into her body. Her hot, wet, delicious body. She sank downwards and suddenly he was there, totally inside her. Her face lifted and their eyes met, hers dilated, his stunned.

‘Max,’ was all she said before she bent down to kiss his mouth, her hands cupping his face, her tongue sliding deep into his mouth.

How often had he hoped for a Tara like this?

Then she began to ride him. Slowly at first, but then with more passion. The wilder rise and fall of her hips wrenched her mouth away from his. Her hands fell to his shoulders to steady herself, her fingernails biting into his flesh till suddenly her back arched, her flesh gripping his like a vice.

‘Oooh,’ she cried out.

The power of her climax was mind-blowing. He exploded in erotic response, the pleasure blinding as, all the while, she kept moving upon him, rocking back and forth, her eyes shut, her breathing ragged.

Afterwards, she sank down against his chest, her head nestling into the base of his throat. His arms encircled her back and he held her like that for quite a while, both of them silent and content.

But inevitably, the significance of what had just happened came home to him. His gorgeous Tara had finally abandoned her inhibitions.

Suddenly, he wanted her in every way a man and a woman could make love.

Tara sat up straight, her startled eyes searching his.

‘Too soon?’ he said, his hands sliding down her back to cup her bottom.

She shook her head.

He kept on caressing her bottom, and soon her lips fell apart on a sensual sigh of surrender. Max had never felt such love for her. Or such desire.

He was glad that their dinner reservation wasn’t till eight o’clock. He had plans for the hour and a half till then, and none of them had anything to do with going back to bed.

‘THAT gold colour looks fabulous on you,’ Max said as they waited for the lift to take them down to the restaurant. ‘So does the dress. I’m glad you took my suggestion to wear it tonight.’

Tara almost laughed. Suggestion! He hadn’t suggested. He’d insisted.

The dress was a cheong-san, brought home by Max after an earlier trip to Hong Kong. Made in gold satin, it might have looked demure with its knee-length hem and high Chinese collar, except for the fact it was skin-tight, with slits up the sides which exposed a good deal of thigh. It was an extremely sensual garment.

Not that Tara needed help in feeling sensual at that moment. The last couple of hours had left all her senses heightened and her body humming. She’d certainly aroused the beast in Max with her provocative behaviour, along with another couple of Maxes. Max, the insatiable. And Max, the rather ruthless.

She shivered at the memory of the interlude on the billiard table.

Tara had briefly thought of sex as a game before going into Max’s den. She hadn’t realised at the time that Max was far ahead of her in the playing of erotic games, making her now wonder how many other women he’d entertained in the past in such a fashion.

At least, she hoped they’d been in the past.

A long and more objective look at Max—so resplendent tonight in black tie—confirmed what Tara had always subconsciously known. That women would throw themselves at him in droves. She had, hadn’t she?

‘Max,’ she said with sudden worry in her voice and in her eyes.

‘What, my darling?’

When he took her hand and raised it to his lips, she looked deep into his eyes.

‘Have you ever been unfaithful to me?’

‘Never,’ he returned, so swiftly and so strongly that she had to believe him.

And yet…

‘Why do you ask?’ he went on, clearly perturbed by her question.

‘I can see by tonight,’ she said carefully, ‘that I haven’t exactly…satisfied you these past twelve months.’

‘That’s not true, Tara. I’ve been very happy with you,’ he claimed.

A flicker in his eyes, however, showed otherwise.

‘I don’t believe you, Max. Tell me the truth.’

‘Look, I admit there have been moments when I wished you were more comfortable with your body, and your sexuality. But I was not discontented. I love you, Tara, not just making love to you. Still, I’m glad you’ve finally realised that sex can be enjoyed in lots of different ways. It doesn’t always have to be slow and serious. It can be fast and furious. Or it can just be fun. You had fun tonight, didn’t you?’

Fun. Had it been fun? It had certainly been exciting, and compelling.

‘I…I guess so.’

His smile was wry. ‘Come, now, Tara. You loved it. All of it. Don’t deny it.’

‘I guess I’m just not used to being so wicked.’

‘Wicked!’ Max exclaimed, laughing. ‘We weren’t wicked. A little naughty perhaps. But not wicked. I could show you wicked later tonight, if you’d like.’

‘What…what do you mean? Doing what?’

‘I’ve always wanted to put those cords around my bed to far better use than tying back the curtains.’

Tara tried to feel scandalised. Instead, curiosity claimed her. What would it feel like for Max to tie her to the bed, to render her incapable of stopping him from looking at her all over, and touching her all over?

Just thinking about it gave her a hint as to what it would actually feel like. Wicked.

Heat filled her face. And the rest of her.

‘I can see that’s a bit of a leap for you,’ Max said wryly. ‘Forget I mentioned it.’

But how could she forget? He’d put the image into her mind. She would never be able to look at that bed now without thinking of herself bound to the bedposts!

The lift doors opened. When she stood there, still in a daze, Max took her hand and pulled her into the lift.

‘Come along, princess, stop the daydreaming. We have to go down and eat. We’re already a quarter of an hour late, courtesy of your keeping me in the shower longer than I intended.’

‘Me keeping you in the shower!’ she gasped. ‘You liar! It was you. You wouldn’t let me get out till I…till I…’

‘Till you’d finished what you started. Yes, I know. Sorry. You’re right. I got a bit carried away. But I didn’t hear you objecting.’

‘I could hardly speak at the time,’ she countered with a defiant glower.