Chapter 1

Soft golden flames cast the room in flickering shadows. Deep red silk and lace seemed almost as blood against pale skin turned alabaster by the wavering light. The darkness of the hand that trailed across her skin was an eerie compliment to the haunting music playing in the background.

She gasped as those same dark hands pulled the tiny straps off of her shoulders, exposing more and more of her sleekly rounded breasts. The plunging neckline caught on the ruby tips and she arched in pleasure, dark eyes closing in passionate abandon, long ebony strands of hair tumbling away from her face. Her hands curved into fists, catching creamy satin sheets in grasping fingers as she sought to cope with the bliss that was singing through her nerve endings, befuddling her mind.

Masculine lips traced the line of her throat, burying themselves in the juncture of her shoulder. She felt him inhale her scent, heard his moan of need as if it were a physical thing that touched her with a soft feathery caress. He pushed the straps further down her arms, only stopping when they became caught on the bindings that held her to the bed.

She felt the restrictions of her arms held to her sides by the leather cuffs around her wrists and panicked, pleasure turning to fear as the fog of desire lifted suddenly. Her eyes opened and she stared around the room, a room that had been crafted into a nest of sensual delights, soft fabrics, seductively scented candles, quietly passionate music. The bed was sitting upon a platform, leaving the mattress she laid upon only inches from the floor, the leather ties that bound her to it coming from under the platform.

She moved her arms, struggling now not to touch him but to get away. Her eyes darted frantically around the room, searching for a means of escape, desperate for a way to get free of the spell he was weaving with such seductive guile. Her eyes landed upon the tray that was just beyond her reach. Chocolate covered strawberries lay in decadent disarray next to a small bowl filled with luscious ripe fruits. Cheeses lay under a protective stained-glass dome, a wooden cutting board next to it, a small knife sitting so temptingly upon it. Wine glasses, half-filled, one stained with just the trace of lipstick were off to one side.

The wine! It was drugged! Even now, she could feel its rich appeal, the frantic pounding of her heart rushing whatever he had given her through her system. The air seemed heavy, filled with erotic scents that weighed down her will, bending it until it was his. She wanted him. She couldn't fight it any longer.

She arched against the chest that crushed down against her breasts, pressing them even more firmly against him, moaning at the contact of his hot skin against her own. His hand pushed hair from her face, traced her features, the tip of his finger brushing with seductive demand against her bottom lip until she opened her mouth for him, her tongue greeting his finger eagerly, suckling upon it.

"You're so beautiful, so sensual," he whispered against her ear. His deep voice sent shivers through her, the texture of it seeming almost a tactile thing as more of the drug pulsed into her. He reached back and picked up her glass, dipping his finger into the blood red wine and running it over her lips, pushing delicately inside to let her suckle more. "Trust me, my love," he whispered, kissing her eyes, her cheeks, licking a drop she had missed off of her lips. "Trust me."

His weight lifted off of her and she whimpered in protest, craving the feel of him against her, needing the pressure of his body against every erogenous zone she possessed. Her breasts ached, her nipples seeming almost impossibly swollen, throbbing with need of his mouth and hands. Her lips felt dry, her mouth empty without the taste of him there. Her skin was cold, needing his heat, her thighs lax without the support of his against them.

But so much worse was the empty aching torment between those thighs. A torment that grew with every second he was gone from her. Her eyes opened once more, searching the room for him. He stood over her, his chest bare, a strange tattoo that seemed like blood tipped flames covering his shoulder and down one arm. He stared into her eyes, his hands toying with the buckle of his belt. He seemed to be waiting for something, to want something from her.

"I can't take you until you ask, my beautiful lady. You must say the words."

Under his searching gaze, her body grew even more tortured with need. Her thighs opened and closed, her hips arched against the softness of the satin as she grew even wetter and more swollen. There was a pain in her loins that seemed to grow the longer she fought him. His pale blue eyes spoke to her as she moaned, telling her she only had to ask and the pain would go away. She only had to ask for him and all she would feel would be pleasure.

"Please," she pleaded, her body writhing against the bed. "Please."

"Say the words, sweet lady. Say them," he urged, "and your pain will be gone." He undid the buckle, pulling the belt free of the loops, letting it drop against her skin. He dragged it over her body, between her breasts and down across her flat stomach, letting it slip between her thighs for a second before pulling it back and dropping it beside the bed.

Desperate panting seemed to be all she was capable of, the air seemed too heavy to draw into her lungs, too filled with the scent of him. He smelled of richness, of sin, a decidedly too tempting concoction of maleness, sweat and spice mixed with desire and allure. It filled her making her want him as much as the drug had. As much as the sight of him, standing over her, his chest rising and falling rapidly with his own desire had her body arching towards him, pleading with a language of it's own.

His hair was long, the color of sunlight and streamed across his shoulders. His face, harsh with desire, was beyond handsome, his features indelibly stamped upon her memory. Broad shoulders and a wide chest tapered into a muscular stomach and hard hips. His legs were strong, the thigh muscles that had pressed so wonderfully against her body, hard and delineated. Her eyes roved over him as she struggled to find the words to ask for what her body so desperately needed.

His pale blue gaze caught hers, his eyes demanding that she ask.

"Please," she whispered again, her voice broken. "Take me."

She felt his hands upon her stomach, his knuckles brushing against her skin as he grasped the fragile satin she wore. With an easy movement of his strong hands, he ripped the sleek garment in two, leaving her body completely bare to his eyes. Then he tore open the fastening of his pants, yanking them down and stepping out of them in one movement before lying down next to her again.

His hands found her breasts, cupping and squeezing the firm roundness of them, his palms circling across her nipples. She gasped at the sensation, moaning as his fingers rolled across the pebbled tips, tugging upon them. Her thighs pressed together desperately, her legs moving as her hips arched, a blatant pleading for the pressure and fullness she craved.

When he slid one hand down her stomach, his fingers parting the fine curls that covered her sex, she sobbed in pained pleasure, tiny eruptions building and circling through her, but never easing the blatant yearning of her body. He slipped his hand between her thighs, moaning his own appreciation as his long middle finger slid easily into the damp hot flesh, feeling the seductive walls of her vaginal sheath pull at him, weep her sweet moisture for him, cling to him.

"Yes," he groaned as she cried out her need. He slipped between her thighs, holding himself away from her on his strong arms as he let the long length of his hardness caress her slit, the bulbous head rubbing with torturous irregularity against the hard knot of her clit. "Are you on any birth control?" he asked her harshly, taunting her with his body, rubbing against her, plying his soft lips over her nipples.

"No," she gasped, mindless with need.

"Good," he said, a pleased smile spreading fleetingly across his hard and handsome face.

His hands circled her thighs, his chest for one glorious moment, pressing against her again. He pulled her legs open wider, pushing her thighs up until she was completely exposed to him, vulnerable to whatever he wanted to do with her. He leaned over her, his mouth finding hers as he pressed his cock against the delicate flesh of her opening, stretching her wider until just the head of his cock nestled inside of her.

Her hips moved, trying to force him to give her more, trying to take him into her to give herself what she needed.

"Gently, darling. I don't want to hurt you," he said, kissing her lips softly as he strained to keep himself from just thrusting into her. Slowly, inch by torturous inch, he pushed inside, the wet walls of her vagina giving way to his sultry invasion. "You're so tight," he moaned, his hips twitching as he fought his own desire. "I'd almost believe you virginal if I didn't know better."

Her head tossed upon the pillow as he filled her with himself until she felt as if she would burst from the fullness. He pushed against her hips, his arms holding her open while he slowly moved inside of her, pleasing himself with his movements and teasing her until begging whimpers fell from lips bruised and swollen from his passionate kisses. Every move of his hips sent heated chills spiraling from her lower belly, every thrust brought her just that much closer to the fulfillment she craved.

"Yes," he hissed, watching her eyes, seeing the flush that suffused her face. "You must reach your own pleasure first, lover." He thrust hard, flesh slapping against flesh, feeling her pleasure as it pulsed through her almost too strong and unexpected for her to handle. Her eyes closed, a keening cry coming from between her lips. "No!" he shouted, startling her, even as the walls around them shook slightly with the sound. "Look at me."

Her eyes flew open as he ground himself against her, his body punishing hers as it pleasured her. She felt it coming again, that overwhelming tide of ecstasy unlike anything she'd ever experienced before. She stared up at him as it consumed her, her body rigid with it. It radiated from where he still moved inside of her, pulsing through her body in rapturous waves, forcing a scream from between her parted lips.

He saw it and felt it, knew her pleasure even as his own stayed just beyond his reach. Her eyes were almost terrified as the sensations that poured through her were too intense to be understood. That fright he saw pushed at him, took him over the edge, sent him soaring in ecstasy. He could feel the hot pulses of his own pleasure, feel his potent seed as it throbbed through his cock, boiling its way deep inside of her as the tip of his spurting cock touched her womb.

Her body collapsed under his, the muscles growing lax as she lost consciousness.

He grunted as the last pulse of his seed left him, letting her legs slide from his arms, holding himself up with his elbows as his head came down next to hers. Kissing her ear, breathing deeply of the smell of her arousal and their pleasure as it mixed in the air around her, he smiled sleepily. "You're wonderful," he breathed. He muttered a few guttural phrases in a dialect that she wouldn't recognize even if she were awake, feeling her relax into an even deeper sleep under him.

Brianna Temple woke slowly, her mind fuzzy as if she'd had too much to drink. She stared at the familiar walls of her dorm room in confusion, feeling as if something had happened to her, something important, but she couldn't quite put her mind to what it was.

Sitting up in bed, she felt even more confusion as the sheet fell from her body, leaving her naked from the waist up. She lifted the rest of it, staring down at her naked lower half. She never slept naked. Not here in her dorm room. It was Grand Central Station in here most of the time, people coming and going with just a quick knock on the door.

She pushed her legs out of the covers and reached for her robe, standing before sliding her arms into its thick bulk and wrapping it around her small waist.

"Ouch," she groaned, her body aching as if she'd been run over by a cement mixer and left for dead. "What did I do last night?"

"I don't know, but I sure as hell want the dreams you were having." Her roommate stepped into the room, her arms loaded down with books. "I swear, if I ever meet a man who could make me sound like that, I'm running away with him to some quiet place and let him fuck my brains out." Christy Stevens, a long legged redhead with big green eyes and a higher IQ than Einstein, grinned and dropped the books on her desk with a loud thud.

"I was moaning?" Bria asked, her pale skin flushing quickly. She pulled her long, dark hair out from under the collar of her robe, wincing as the muscles protested.

"Moaning, groaning, whimpering, I think I even heard some begging in there. Trust me, doll, I was completely jealous." She stopped grinning suddenly as she watched her friend rubbing her arm. "What's that?" Her hand came out, grabbing Bria's hand in her own. She pushed up the sleeve of her robe, showing Bria her wrist. It was angrily red and chafed raw in spots, bruised around her thumb.

"Oh, wow. I don't know." She winced as Christy pressed down slightly on one of the spots. "I hurt like hell today, Chris. And I woke up naked."

"You don't sleep naked."

"I know," Bria said, sarcasm laced lightly through her voice. "That's why it seems so weird." She held up her other arm, staring at the same kind of bruises and red marks on that wrist. "It looks like I was tied up."

"Were you?" Christy let go of her arm, going over to sink down on her bed.

"I... I don't think so. I remember going to bed last night when I got back from going out with that new guy from the Chem. lab. You were asleep when I came in. I put on my jammies and got in bed." Bria closed her eyes, that same niggling thought that remained just beyond her grasp bugging her.

"No kinky sex games with the new Chem. guy?" Christy asked seriously.

"Chris, you know how I feel about that. I... I haven't been with anyone since Jeff died." Jeff had been her high school love. They had started college here at Eastern Michigan University in Ypsilanti, Michigan, two years ago. During their first semester, a drunk driver had hit Jeff as he'd been walking across Michigan Avenue on his way back to the dormitories late one night. The driver had been caught five days later, Jeff's blood and hair still on the bumper of his car.

Bria had almost quit school then; the only thing keeping her here was the fact that Jeff wouldn't want her to give up her dreams of becoming a veterinarian. She'd gone out with guys, but she never let one get close, not since that night two years ago.