Delecto - Games of Mastery (part 1) by Katrina Liss Page A

graceful neck of hers. And the way she glared at me,
suspiciously, shooting me down over almost everything I said. She
was breathtaking. And so goddamn aggravating, and arousing, beyond
all logic and reason. And I sensed such conflict within her. I
could tell she was interested in me, very interested, right from
the start, but for some reason she wasn't allowing herself to
explore that interest. Whether this was the client-lawyer
relationship barring her way, or something else, I couldn't be
sure. My controlled, mild flirting was met with such a frosty blow
off I feared she could turn me to ice. She was the legal snow queen
with the power to imprison her insolent subject, within an icy
tomb, with one simple word. But it only fueled my interest more and
spurred me on to try harder, to win her over. Ultimately, to
misbehave further. She didn't realize just how tenacious I could
be. I was the Rottweiler with a fresh lamb bone locked in my jaw
and nothing, absolutely nothing, bar my death, was tearing me away
from consuming it.
    She could
protest and blast me with ice all she liked, I was committed.
    I laughed to
myself. I actually thought I'd nailed her one hundred percent with
my rose soliloquy, but she was simply playing me along. It seemed
we were both playing each other along. Playing mind games, with
neither of us knowing who was the master and who was the
puppet.
    When I first
set eyes on her face, what I saw was a living china doll.
    For how could a
face be so perfect as hers, and be real?
    The palest
skin, like ivory satin, so fine that my fingertips were desperate
to stroke it. Huge, brown, expressive eyes stared at me. Sad and
then so angry. They switched from one emotion to the next at
lightening speed. Her small rosebud of a mouth was the most divine
formation; such pretty well defined lips, with a pronounced cupids
bow, and a tiny curve upward at the outer edges. There was more
than just a suggestion of sensuality on that mouth. It was a whole
world of sin in its own right. I was fascinated by her mouth and
her eyes.
    She made me
weep inside with desire, despite the fact I was still in the final
throes of my headache.
    I was aching
for those curves, deliciously wrapped inside her suit, to have her
voluptuous ass in my hands, her soft breasts pressed against my
chest. To taste a mouthful of her warm, pliant neck. To thoroughly
taste everything that was hers. And all that hair—it had me in its
thrall. The dozens of loose raven-black curls cascading down to her
backside, neatly bound into a long frothy rope with a wide silver
band. I touched it as I led her out to the terrace. It was silky,
lush and so very tempting. It had taken all my strength not to bend
and rub my face in handfuls of it.
    I was going to
release that hair and use it against her, mercilessly. I would wrap
it round my fists, hard and tight, to hold her head prisoner
however and wherever I liked.
    To use it so
that I could anchor her in front of me, to taste those doll-like
features and kiss that temptation of a mouth, for as long as I
wanted.
    She'd soon
realize who she was dealing with. My gentleman's facade was purely
that. A front.
    I would take
what I wanted, like I always did, and she was about to get a
shocking taste of me tonight, because what I wanted more than
anything, was her.
    I very rarely
wanted anyone like this. I guessed it was because she was more of a
challenge than I usually experienced. Actually, challenges were few
and far between. That was why I found her so desirable. She had
walls to climb. Barriers to demolish. I had to discover her
weakness, find her pretty little Achilles heel. We all had one. But
I'd find a way in, eventually.
    I was quite
excited at the thought of silencing her pathetic wails of protest
with my mouth, and turning her to liquid mercury in my arms.
Possessing her delectable body until she was a moaning, writhing,
defenseless, pool of desire. Then I'd bury myself deep inside her,
taking her hard, arousing