"Feel how you stiffen me so quickly?"
I moved to take him inside of me. I was so wet all it would take was for me to lower myself down onto him. But he raised my hips with his big hands at the sides of my ass and sat me beside him again.
"I think not. A little tension is good for you."
"You're a horrible tease, you know that?"
"I have something special in mind for you tonight. I think after our adventure today, you're ready for more tonight," he smiled at me, but there was a shadow of darkness to his eyes that I hadn't seen in days. Something was going on inside--deep, where I couldn't touch. Where I wasn't allowed to go.
Five
Conversation at dinner was light. Deliberately and uncomfortably light, at least for me. I'd been denied a real emotional connection from the very beginning--ordered in no uncertain terms not to analyze or succumb to expectations. So, my psyche did what came naturally. I filled in all the blanks for myself. I interpreted every silence, every word, every touch and every action trying to get some sense of how Tristan actually felt about me. I came up with bits and pieces I couldn't connect. He was like a jigsaw puzzle and I couldn't find any straight edges to start with. I only had unrelated middle bits, none of which fit together.
He was willing to pay almost any amount of attention to my physical well being, whether that took the form of luxury surroundings, fantastic gifts, amazing food and drink or sex better than I could have even half imagined. He seemed genuinely concerned about my safety and my parents' as well. He lavished compliments on me and reacted to my touch in ways that told me he desired me with a primal passion I had never before experienced.
And yet. Neither one of us had ever expressed anything emotional that wasn't connected to sex. For my part, it was a conscious and difficult effort. I wanted to talk about . . . us. I wanted to ask all about Elsa and even about the little-boy Tristan and his lost momma. But under 'the rules' that I had agreed to more than once, those kinds of things fell under the 'analysis' and 'expectation' categories and were off limits.
I sipped my wine in silence, wondering--no, analyzing--where the relationship was going to go. Had I been foolish in thinking that I could enter into this kind of unwritten contract? Every time he fucked me I became more attached. I couldn't help it.
He had entwined his life with mine. First, by his rescue of my father and all that came after. How was I supposed to refuse that? More to the point, how was I supposed to put the brakes on it now? Sorry, Dad, Mom, but I've decided to throw you under the bus because I just can't handle this deal with Tristan. Good luck.
Then there was the job situation. When we got back to New York and reality, I very much needed the helping hand that Tristan had offered me. He could open doors that would be impenetrable to me.
"Raina?"
His voice--that unnervingly velvet sound--shook me back into the here and now. Dinner was over and it was time to see what Tristan meant by 'adventure' for tonight. I gave him the sexiest smile I could conjure and told myself to suck it up and be a big girl. This was a situation that couldn't be changed in an instant. I was on his boat, in a foreign country and the only possessions I had arrived with had disappeared along the way.
"I'm ready for my adventure, Mr. King."
***
Tristan told me to go to the second stateroom on the right, and put on the items I found there. He pulled me to him before he let me go in the hallway. Raw need ripped through me when I saw the intense cloud of desire gather like a storm behind his eyes. He brought his mouth against mine and bruised my lips with his. As he claimed my mouth with his I felt an edgy passion much like the first time we had kissed in his garden. His tongue searched my mouth and erased all thoughts but those that focused on how much I needed him inside me.
"You have to trust me, Raina," he breathed hotly into my ear as if he knew all the questions that had been coursing through my doubting brain just minutes earlier. "Everything will be clearer to you if you just let go. You did so well today . . ."
It pleased me so much to hear him tell me how well I had done. It was irrational, really, because I hadn't done anything much at all. All I did was walk naked in the sun with the man I . . . was so . . . taken with. If I understood anything at all about the man, it was that he derived great pleasure in seeing me loose inhibition completely. My letting go of 'shouldn't' made him happy.
I opened the door to the stateroom. The first thing I noticed was a triangular wedge in the middle of the turned down bed. Even with my limited experience it wasn't hard to figure out that I'd soon be draped over the cushion, assuming a 'position'.
I found a gorgeous corset on the bed. It was ivory lace trimmed with rose colored ribbons. There was a pair of lace top ivory hose--the kind that stay up by themselves--and a pair of impossibly high ivory satin pumps. I didn't need to check the soles; I knew they'd be red.
It was a struggle to get the corset on. I couldn’t fasten the dozens of hooks and eyes behind me so I put it on backwards and twisted it around to the front when I had it all hooked up. I was out of breath by the time I got it situated right because of the effort involved. The fact that it cinched my waist in almost painfully tight didn't help. There were bones running all down my torso and had I thought about it, the stockings and shoes should have gone on first. Bending over was almost impossible.
The wall behind the head of the bed was all mirrored and I took a good look at myself. The bra part of the corset was designed to push my breasts up, but not cover them. My nipples poked out over the lace and ribbons; I was already aroused just contemplating what was in store for my body. The corset did a fine job of making my shape into an hourglass. The rear view was equally erotic as the garment ended just above the swell of my ass.
I noticed some things on the nightstand. There was a silver hairbrush, which I put to use at once. I took every tangle out of my hair. It seemed to have absorbed the sunlight from our day; golden highlights shone in the soft light of the room. I saw a pearl necklace that I assumed was to be part of my costume and fastened it around my neck. It was made of a dozen strands that hugged my neck like a collar. The matching earrings cascaded all the way to my shoulders. I used the mother-of-pearl hair pin to pull my hair into a loose up-do and loved the elegance it lent to the whole look.
There was nothing else left to put on. I opened the nightstand drawer. Maybe I would have been better off not knowing what was in there. When I heard the door handle turn, I quickly closed the drawer and sat down on the armchair beside the bed. Trying my best to appear poised and elegant, I watched as Tristan's big frame filled the doorway. He was backlit from the hall and his face was in shadow. He wore a loose pair of drawstring pants and nothing else. I could make out the contours of his hips through the semi sheer dark fabric.