Undressing Mercy. Deanna Lee

He waited until I’d backed into the position he had arranged and slipped the silk back into place before he started work again. My arousal made remaining still almost impossible.

      Suddenly he spoke. “Talk to me.”

      I frowned. “Talk to you?”

      “Tell me about your day.”

      I sighed. “Well, it was a good morning, but the afternoon was a trial.”

      “Oh, really?”

      “Yep. I was manipulated by an arrogant man into posing naked in his studio.”

      “Must be really horrible to be so beautiful.”

      I glanced at him, saw a smile that slipped across his lips as he stared intently at the paper in front of him. “Is that why I’m here?”

      “Beauty is a varied and wonderful thing. I’ve known women who would not fit the traditional definition of beauty but were entirely beautiful to me. Then there are women like you…an amazing face and all those curves. My grandfather would say you look like ten miles of bad road. Curvy, challenging, and thrilling to explore.”

      “And do you want to explore me?”

      He lifted his gaze. “In every way possible.”

      “Do you say that to every woman you bring into your studio?”

      He stood and walked over to me. Sitting on the side of the platform, he ran his finger along the line of my jaw.

      “Mercy.” The gentle way he said my name, combined with the soft drifting of his fingers on my face, made me want to wrap myself around him. “Tell me why you think so little of yourself.”

      I flushed; not moving was an effort. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m lying here, naked. What more could you want?”

      Saying nothing, he continued to stare. I felt almost penetrated by his gaze, as if he were reading my soul. His dark eyes took all of me in, and I moved, unable to help myself. His eyes darkened further, allowing me to see his own response to me. He wanted me, despite the cool exterior he was presenting.

      Silent, Shamus watched me fidget on the pillow.

      The red silk slid over my skin, and I felt a blush cross my face as my nipples tightened further and pushed against the material. His gaze dropped to my breasts. His tongue darted against his bottom lip. Swallowing hard, I could almost feel his mouth on me. My nipples were so hard they ached. I moved my legs together and watched his gaze move down my body to my legs. I wished that I’d left the silk off. I wanted him to see the damp curls of my sex, so he would know exactly how much I wanted him.

      He sighed and stood. “You are wearing more than you think.”

      “I’ve done exactly what you’ve asked of me. What the hell more could you want?” My response came out snappy and hard. I regretted the loss of control, but his pointed dismissal of my sexual response to him had hurt.

      “I think you do know what I mean. But you hide from yourself more than you hide from the world.”

      I watched him walk away from the platform. He turned to look at me as tension stretched between us, then he let his gaze drop to the floor.

      He didn’t say anything for a long moment, and I found myself unable to let the silence persist. “Why do you care?”

      He plucked the robe from the floor. “We’re finished.”

      “It hasn’t been two hours.” I pressed my lips together briefly. I’d done what he wanted, and his dissatisfaction was infuriating.

      “No, but you’re too tense for me to continue.”

      “I’m sorry.”

      I didn’t want to be sorry; briefly, I indulged in a little self-hatred for the apology. The situation was ridiculous. No matter how I tried to justify it, there was no getting comfortable with the idea of posing for him. Telling Shamus Montgomery no seemed impossible. Who was he to come into my life and start to demand my time and attention? I’d considered my life full until he’d presented himself, and resented him for reminding me of the things that had been missing.

      “Dress and I’ll walk you out.”

      I stood up and let the silk drop away. He held out a hand to help me step down. I let my fingers curl briefly against his palm before I pulled my hand free. Silently he offered me the robe.

      I glanced briefly at the robe, dismissed it, and walked to the dressing screen. I dressed quickly behind the screen, relieved the session was over. Standing there in my sundress, I still felt naked. My clit was throbbing between my labia, and my nipples were still unbearably hard. Clutching my purse, I left the screened area and glared at the reason my body was reacting so strongly.

      Shamus stood by the stairs, the door once more open. I lifted my chin and walked to him.

      Slipping past him, I went down the stairs. At the bottom, I paused and wondered if the early dismissal meant that he’d changed his mind about my posing. He joined me and walked beside me to the exit.

      As he pulled his keys out to let me out, I took a deep breath and said, “Mr. Montgomery—”

      “Shame,” he corrected. “My friends call me Shame.”

      I wasn’t sure I wanted to be his friend.

      “Will you want me to return tomorrow?”

      “Yes.” He turned the key in the lock and opened the door for me. “We’ll order some food in and spend some time together before we try again.”

      I walked quickly to my car and looked back to him as I pulled open the driver’s door. He was standing where I’d left him.

      I had no business getting involved with a man, especially now when my career was on the right track, and I should have been grateful for his restraint. Instead I felt rejected and angry.

      I yanked my seat belt into place and turned the car on. He pulled his door shut as my headlights came on. Lust burning in me, I shoved the car into drive and hoped that I would make it home before surrendering to the need to self-pleasure.

      I finally inserted my key into my apartment door and shoved it open. The trip home had done nothing to knock the edge off my physical response to Shame. I tossed my keys and purse aside and closed the door with a sigh of relief. Four bolt locks and a chain later, tension started to seep out of my body.

      I went into the kitchen and pulled out a bottle of wine. With a generous glass of wine in hand, I moved into my living room. I could still smell him; the musky cologne had followed me home. Drowning in thoughts of Shamus Montgomery, who was plainly stingy with his cock, I took a generous sip of the wine and then set the glass down.

      I pulled my dress over my head. My white strapless bra and panties fell on top of the dress. I stood in my sandals for a moment, and then toed them off as I picked up my glass. After a deep swallow of wine, I dipped my index finger into the glass. Wetting my nipples with the liquid, I set the glass aside as my hand slid down my body. I sat down on the couch. The slightly rough material rubbed my skin as my back met with the back of the couch. I covered my pussy with one hand and closed my eyes.

      Rubbing the heated flesh I found there, a relieved sigh escaped my lips. I slipped one finger between my labia and flicked my clit carefully. My finger moved back and forth as I thought about the man who had brought me to such a state without even trying. In my mind’s eye, I imagined his hands moving over my pale thighs, the darkness of his skin marked against my own. Then his powerful body would move over me, his mouth drawing wet trails down my chest, and his lips pulling at my nipples. My teeth clenched as my orgasm overwhelmed me.

      My hand fell from my body. I sought out my wineglass and drained the remaining contents. I hoped Shamus Montgomery was suffering for his self-control as much as I was. It would only be fair. The man had driven me to masturbation twice in one day.

      When