Jennifer Probst - The Tantric Principle

He was scared shitless. He just hid it better than normal people without all of their strict training and practices.

Arianna stood and paced the room, wineglass in hand, while she thought. What if he did love her as much as she did him? What if he wanted a life with her, but couldn’t get past his defense barriers and allow her to make a choice to love him?

What if she didn’t give any more choices?

The plan formed. She drank her wine and went over the details. Her move to Chicago was going to happen. The deal was complete and her team in place. She couldn’t turn back now.

But before she closed the door, she needed to show Grant Madison an important lesson about tantra he’d never forget. Arianna set the wineglass down and went back into the bedroom to dress.

Grant sat in his living room. He had a good brood going, and the music playing in the background only added to his mood. Frank Sinatra sang about being stupid and saying I love you. He raised his glass of vodka on the rocks and gave Old Blue Eyes a toast. The singer had lost his lady loves one at a time yet still lived to a ripe old age. Grant knew he was done. Arianna Devlin had ruined him for any other woman. The ones to come after her would only be plagiarized versions of a brilliant Picasso or gleaming diamond. Just dogs playing poker or paste.

The thought almost made a strangled laugh rise to his lips. Almost. He sipped his vodka and wondered what the hell was going on. He’d had break ups before. When his wife left, it took a while to get back his stride, but he’d never missed his morning meditations or practices. He was going on day three without meditating. He’d given evening class to his assistant because he couldn’t bear the thought of watching the door and waiting for Arianna to arrive.

He missed her throaty laugh and dirty truck driver language. He missed her wicked grins and hearty appetite and constantly beeping smart phone. He missed her energy and her passion.

He was so screwed.

The ice clanked against the heavy cut glass as he drained his drink. It was done. She’d move to Chicago and he needed to keep living his life. His school was his mainstay and spirit.

He needed to get his head out of his ass and concentrate on making the program better.

Tomorrow, he’d begin meditation again and commit fully to his practice. Maybe a juice fast would help cleanse both his body and his mind. He got up from the couch and went to bed.

The noise put him on full alert.

Grant sat up in bed, his gaze narrowing in on the doorway. The apartment seemed quiet, but something was off. Something had wakened him. His senses sharpened, and his ears strained for a sound of an intruder. Nothing. Yet, the room smelled differently. A lingering scent of Arianna filled the air, probably from his dreams. Mingled vanilla and spicy musk that drenched her skin and made his senses weep.

He shook off the thought and the urge to turn on the light. Only a dream. He settled back on the pillow.

Then saw her.

She stood in the doorway of his bedroom, silent as a ghost. The moonlight trickling through his window threw her into sharp silhouette. His breath literally choked in his throat, as if a hammer had swung and struck his chest.

Arianna.

She wore a high push up black lace bra. He caught the glimpse of ruby red nipples poking out of the sheer front, easily discerned in the weak light. Her smooth, vanilla skin gleamed. A wisp of a black thong barely covered the juncture between her thighs. High black heels emphasized the length of her legs and the perfect curve of her ass.

A sexy smile pouted her lips as she leaned against the door frame with a lazy satisfaction and watched him. A pair of black handcuffs swung from her plum colored fingernails. Her hips were thrust at an angle, giving him a good look at her naked tummy and high, pointed breasts, spilling out of the tight lace.

Grant felt himself grow hard immediately, rising to lengths he didn’t know he’d ever achieved. His heart stopped, then began pounding. He tried to speak but only found himself uttering one word like a question. “Arianna?”

She pushed herself away from the door and slowly walked into his bedroom. She paused beside the mahogany posted bed, the cuffs dangling in her grasp. She licked her lips deliberately and leaned over. Her breasts were in view of his eyes and he gulped like a sixteen year old seeing his first stripper.

“Hi, Grant.” His name rolled off her tongue as if tangled in smoke. “Have you missed me?”

Like breath, and taste and touch and sight. Instead, he only nodded. Then watched as she climbed up on the mattress beside him. She settled herself on all fours, her buttocks a perfect arc and bare to his gaze, lifted upward as if just waiting for him to enter her. As he was distracted, she clipped one end of the handcuffs to the post on the headboard. Tested the strength by pulling the velvet rope. Then reached for his hand. Her fingers fluttered through his like a delicate tease, and he heard the definitive click of the cuffs as one wrist was securely fastened.

Grant shook his head in an effort to clear it. Was this some sort of mirage or dream? How much vodka had he drunk? The thought disappeared as the reality of her scent and feel of her skin slid around him.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

“Seducing you.” Her words shot through his brain like an immediate aphrodisiac. He grew harder and pushed against the constraints of his boxers in discomfort. She lowered herself over him, her hair brushing against his cheek as a second set of cuffs were suddenly clicked to his right hand. Grant realized in a flash both hands were competently chained and he couldn’t move.

Unease trickled down his spine. “But I thought you were in Chicago.” She shushed him by laying one finger over his lips. “No talking about Chicago or anything else. Tonight, I want to concentrate on tantra.” His unease deepened. “What do you mean?”

She shook her hair out and laughed like a Greek goddess about to play with a god. “I mean, you always got to explore the limits of your control, but I never did. It’s my turn.”

“Arianna—”

“Relax and enjoy the ride, baby. I intend to.”

His words came back to haunt hm. And then there was no more thinking because she lowered her head and claimed his mouth.

Heat assaulted him at all angles. Her hair tickled his cheeks, her scent of musk rose to his nostrils. She gave him a full blown kiss with tongue and teeth, licking at his lips and stroking his mouth in a repetition of her gently moving hips. She straddled him on the bed, with his erection pressed against her scrap of black lace that covered her pussy. She teased him by moving her hips in mockery of her lips and tongue so his whole body began to tense and rise to the bait.

Arianna pulled away and dropped gentle kisses over his face, down his neck. Then bit hard.

He moaned.

“Feel good?” she whispered naughtily, her hands coasting over his bare chest and massaging his muscles. “Because this is only the beginning. I’m going to make you come so hard you’re going to reach heaven. And then I’m going to do it again. And again.” Jesus, he was going to die tonight. Grant pulled at the restraints and suddenly feared getting out of control. What if he couldn’t be in command of his emotions? What if he couldn’t guarantee her pleasure? The old fears rose up like twisted snakes and seethed inside of him.

Deep down, he realized he was afraid of this woman. Afraid she would push him beyond his safe boundaries and demand he give everything. Both physically and emotionally.

After his ex-wife left, he realized he needed to save a bit of himself or he may never recover from another emotional assault. Yoga and tantra helped with the control. Helped him stay hidden. Arianna pushed and challenged, but as long as he had led in the bedroom, he’d been safe.

Tonight, he was safe no longer.

“Baby, untie me. I want to touch you, too. I missed you so much.” She laughed again like a witch as she pulled just out of reach. “Don’t think so. Now stop talking.”

Her head dipped again and she was licking at his nipples, testing the hard muscles in his chest she had just massaged. Down to his belly button to dip into the slight indentation. He hissed out a breath when those fingers suddenly reached the edge of his boxers and lingered.

Grant waited for her to rip them off and get right to it, but that would have been granting mercy.

Instead, she gently explored his pulsing length against the thin cotton, stroking so gently he thought he would go mad with anticipation.

Then put her full mouth against him and blew.

His hips shot up. She licked him through the cotton, dampening the fabric as she ran her teeth gently over the ridges of his cock. Inch by inch, she dragged the waistband downward, exposing another expanse of bare flesh and licking him, stroking him, making him—

“Arianna.” Her name stumbled from his lips, an attempt at a command, and she soothed him with low murmuring sounds that raked across his fogged ears.

“Slow, we’re going slow.” She used his words ruthlessly on him, and Grant realized he had never felt as vulnerable as he did right now, completely at her mercy and on the verge of begging her to finish what she’d started. The fabric finally came down and she discarded his boxers with a quick toss.

He waited for the feel of her wet mouth on his flesh. Waited. Waited.

She rose up, straddling his thighs. With slow motions, she reached behind her back and unclasped her bra. Her glorious breasts spilled out, the ripe mounds crowned with ruby red nipples, pointed and hard. She tossed the bra aside. Then she began running her fingers over herself, massaging her breasts, tweaking her nipples. She moaned at her self pleasure and all the while he gritted his teeth and made bargains with God to do anything for the chance to touch her.