A voice answered his call.
“Lucien. Something important has come up, and I’m running behind. Can we meet at five thirty versus five?”
“Certainly. I’ll see you there in forty-five minutes. Hope you’re feeling thick-skinned, because I’m in a real mood.”
Ian smiled wryly as he closed his bedroom door behind him and locked it. “I have a feeling my sword is hungry for blood today as well, my friend, so we’ll see who requires the thick skin and who doesn’t.”
Lucien was still laughing when Ian hung up. He stowed his briefcase and withdrew a fencing uniform from his dressing room, laying out a plastron, breeches, and a jacket. He stripped quickly and efficiently. From his briefcase, he withdrew a key. Two large dressing rooms adjoined his private quarters. Mrs. Hanson—anyone save Ian—was prohibited from entering one of them.
It was Ian’s private territory.
He unlocked the mahogany door and walked naked into the high-ceilinged room. It was lined with drawers and cabinets on either side and was always kept meticulously neat. He opened a drawer on his right and withdrew the items he wanted before padding back out to his bed.
It was his fault for not realizing this useless desire was mounting to dangerous levels. Perhaps he would arrange to bring a woman here this weekend, but in the meantime, he needed to diminish the sharp edge of his sexual hunger.
He squirted some lubricant onto his hand. His erection hadn’t abated. Shivers of pleasure rippled through him when he rubbed the cool lubricant over his cock. He considered lying on the bed, but no . . . standing was better. He picked up the transparent silicone sleeve and grasped his heavy cock. He’d had the masturbator custom made for his dimensions, specifying he wanted the silicone to be clear. He enjoyed watching himself ejaculate. The manufacturer had followed his directions to perfection, the only exception being the addition of a dark pink circle around the top ring of the implement. Ian had thought the addition harmless enough at the time, so he hadn’t complained. The masturbator wasn’t a substitute. He could have any number of skilled, willing women give him head at a moment’s notice. Over the years, he’d learned the crucial lesson of discretion. He’d pared down his once-considerable list to include two women who knew precisely what he wanted sexually and understood the parameters of what he would give in return.
The masturbator’s use was purely practical. He owed the sex toy nothing after it’d served its purpose.
But today, a shudder of excitement went through him at the sight of the thick head of his cock penetrating the tight pink ring. He flexed his arm, pushing the snug silicone sheath along the swollen staff of his cock within an inch of the root. He moved his hand like a piston, appreciating how quickly the heat from his flesh mounted within the thick, cushy silicone.
Oh, yes. This is what he needed—a good balls-emptying orgasm. His abdomen, ass, and thigh muscles tightened as his fist pumped. The suction chambers squeezed and sucked at him as he moved, mimicking oral sex. He withdrew the sleeve all the way to the head of his cock and plunged into the warm, slippery depths again and again.
Usually, he closed his eyes and engaged in a sexual fantasy while he masturbated. Today, for some reason, his gaze remained fixed on the sight of his cock penetrating the pink ring. He thought of pink puffy lips in the place of the silicone ring. He saw huge dark eyes looking up at him.
Francesca’s lips. Francesca’s eyes.
You have no time or business seducing an innocent. Didn’t you once get burned doing that?
He was a reluctant dom, perhaps, but a full-blown sexual dominant nonetheless. He’d long ago grown to accept his nature, knowing it matched his solitary fate in life. It wasn’t that he wanted to be alone. He was just wise enough to realize it was inevitable. He was consumed by his work. A control freak. Everyone said it of him—the media, members of the business community . . . his ex-wife. He’d resigned himself to the fact that they were all correct. Fortunately, he’d grown used to his solitude.
No right at all subjecting a woman like Francesca to my demanding nature.
The warning voice in his head was drowned out by the sound of his pounding heart and low grunts of arousal as he pumped his cock.
I would use her for my pleasure, ravish her sweet mouth. Would she be a little alarmed by my forceful possession? Aroused?
Both?
He groaned at the thought and jerked his arm, stroking more rapidly, every muscle in his body growing hard and rigid.
His cock looked enormous when he shoved the shaft fully into the thick silicone sleeve. He didn’t want to come by his own hand. He wanted something he shouldn’t, however, so his hand would have to suffice.
Even if what he really wanted was to restrain a long-limbed, golden-haired beauty, order her to kneel before him, and pound his cock into her wet, tight mouth . . . even if what he really wanted was to witness the flash of excitement in her eyes when he erupted in climax and gave himself to her.
Orgasm slammed into him, sharp and delicious. He gasped as he watched himself ejaculate into the transparent sleeve, his semen shooting against the sides of the inner suction chamber. After a moment, he clenched his eyes shut and moaned harshly, continuing to come.
Christ, he’d been a fool not to do this earlier in the week. He couldn’t stop climaxing. He’d clearly needed a release. It wasn’t typical for him to ignore his sexual needs, and he couldn’t imagine why he’d remained abstinent this week. It’d been foolish.
It might have led to a loss of control, a prospect he couldn’t abide. People who didn’t attend to their needs ended up making mistakes, growing sloppy and haphazard.