Under His Spell Read Online Free PDF Page A

madness. Part of her thought her behavior was very odd, but she squelched it. Those thoughts belonged to the part of her that stumbled under the weight of her world. She would not go there. She would not think those things. She would not even acknowledge the oppressive burden that waited just at the edge of her consciousness.
    Sweaty pleasure was all she wanted. He was sucking her breast rhythmically now, tonguing her nipple as he worked. Heat built from inside her belly. It rushed like a wave outward, like flash fire on her skin. Her hands tightened on the railing as she gasped in reaction. Not an orgasm, but thrilling nonetheless.
    She moaned and thrust her belly against his groin. He was thick and hard, a hot brand even through his clothes. Why was he wearing clothes? She wanted to lift her skirt and wrap her legs around him—naked him—but she couldn’t manage it without letting go of the posts. So she just stood there and whimpered.
    He must have heard the sound because he pulled back. His hair was mussed, his mouth wet, but it was his eyes that she saw the most. Dark brown like molten gold mixed with chocolate. In this place, the analogy made sense and she willingly submerged herself in his power.
    “Do you want more?” he rasped.
    “Yes,” she answered.
    He grinned, but didn’t speak. Without moving his eyes, he reached down and pulled her narrow skirt up to her waist.
    Finally! She spread her legs to ease the heat. It didn’t help, especially as his hands roved over her thighs.
    “Thigh-high panty hose,” he murmured. Then his hands stroked higher. “And a thong!” He smiled at her even as he hooked his thumbs under the strings and pushed them down. Then his grin widened as he bent his knees, kissing his way down her chest and belly.
    He had to stop where her skirt was bunched at her stomach. His mouth left her skin with a swirling tongue motion that could only be described as a flourish. Then he glanced up at her.
    “I’m going take this off,” he said as he tugged at her thong. “But the thigh-highs stay on.” Then he glanced down. “And those heels. Love the heels. They’re so very corporate.”
    He peeled the thong down and she felt the slow pull as the wet fabric separated from her skin. He used his fingers to maneuver the strings, but his thumbs slid in and around her mound. Then he groaned in delight.
    “God, Nicky, you are a fantasy come true!”
    She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. He was looking at her again, and she was lost in the swirling colors of his eyes. Or at least her mind was; the rest of her was absorbed in the sensation of her thong dropping down past her knees to be caught around her ankles.
    She wanted to reach down and unhook it from the straps of her black pumps, but her hands would not release. He had told her not to let go, so she didn’t. She couldn’t, not without switching her brain on, and that was something she never intended to do again. Then he relieved her discomfort by lifting her left knee.The fabric stretched. His fingers caressed her calf and popped the cotton off. He returned her leg to the ground and shifted to her right knee. He lifted it up and she felt the thong hang in the air. She tried maneuvering her foot to shake it loose, but it was caught. How impossible that she couldn’t even release the stupid thong. But then her thoughts were distracted as he kept raising her knee up. Higher and higher as he fell to the ground before her.
    She stared mutely at him as he guided her knee to his shoulder, his hand still stroking the silk of her thigh-highs with a kind of reverence.
    “God, I love this,” he murmured against the fine hose. Then he leaned down, nipping through the silk as he roved higher on her thigh. Soon he was at the edge, murmuring something she couldn’t hear against her skin.
    The moment his lips touched her unprotected flesh, another flash fire of heat erupted. A split-second burst of sensation that made her hiss. He started to pull