Читать книгу Avenge Me - Maisey Yates - Страница 10
ОглавлениеForget letting his mind wander down dark alleys. He was committed now. Not just his mind—his body and soul, as well.
One night. It wouldn’t matter later.
He’d never see this woman again. And he could...he could grab ahold of something just for the night. For one night he could have the control back. Everything was falling apart. Falling away, and once he dropped the bomb on his family, once the scandal broke over the Treffen name, all the control would be gone. Wrenched from his hands.
This might make things feel all right, if only for a few hours.
To have someone at his command. To have something that was his.
He thought of the way she’d been talking to his father and a knot lodged in his throat. If she needed money...
Put some money on the dresser?
Well, why not? If she needed it. It would be better if it was him and not his father she was going to for security through sex. Because the other man couldn’t have her. No one else could. He wanted her.
The things he wanted her for...
He closed his hand into a fist and tried to stave off the surge of lust that shot through his veins. He needed to get a grip.
Or not.
He was tired. Tired of always fighting everything. Everyone’s demons and his own.
He took his phone out of his pocket and dialed a hotel downtown that a business acquaintance owned. He’d been telling the truth when he’d told her he wasn’t a one-night-stand sort of man.
But he had his connections.
“I need a room for tonight,” he said. “Account number four fifty-three. The penthouse suite.” He didn’t want this woman to know his connection to Jason, not if she was ignorant of it. And he didn’t know why she should know who he was. Ten years he’d spent separate from Jason, and he wasn’t the media whore his father was.
Austin preferred to keep his head down and do his work. He preferred to stay away from the spotlight. Passion, lust, greed, a desire for fame. It all corrupted.
He looked over his date for the night. Well, tonight he would be indulging two of those infamous corrupters.
And he couldn’t find any regret for it.
“I have a guest,” he said, the words heavy with meaning. “I shall need the appropriate amenities.”
“Of course, sir. A code will be texted to your phone,” the man on the other end said. “It will grant you admittance to your room. No need to check in at the desk. All supplies you might need for yourself and your guest will be waiting.”
“Perfect,” he said, hanging up. “We’re set for the night. Unless you’ve changed your mind?”
He looked at her, blue eyes wide, a slight tremble in her full lower lip. That little bit of sass and confidence he’d seen in her earlier had waned a bit. She looked vulnerable. She made him feel a bit like a predator.
And damned if he couldn’t muster up any remorse for that. Damned if it didn’t make him a little bit harder.
She met his eyes. “No. I haven’t changed my mind. Only...the shrimp. I didn’t get any.”
“I can order you shrimp. Room service.”
“From Maine?”
“From any damn place you want.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “How can a girl say no to that?”
“I don’t know, but if you’re going to say no,” he said, his voice rough, everything in him feeling rough, “do it now.”
She looked down, and she seemed to be seriously considering it. He didn’t think he could handle her refusal now. He was too far gone.
One kiss, and he was too far gone.
“I’m not going to say no.”
He wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged her up against his body. And he didn’t care if anyone else walked out into the hall. He didn’t care about a damn thing except for the feeling of her breasts against his chest, the harsh, rapid pattern of her breathing bringing them up tighter against him, before giving him a brief reprieve, then repeating.
He felt as if he were on the edge of breaking completely. The world was splintering around him; his self-control was shattering inside of him.
He wanted to seize it. Take it back with both hands. Claim it. Over her bare body, and if that was wrong, he couldn’t muster up the energy to care. Not now.
But she had to agree. Because now that he’d given himself permission to do this, to act on it...he wasn’t sure how far it might go.
“Be sure,” he said. “I am short on self-control tonight, if what I’ve said to you here wasn’t enough of an indicator. I don’t want to hurt you. But once we’re in the hotel room? I’m in charge. I will have what I want. So while we’re out here, you have the chance to tell me you don’t want that. If you want a sweet night of making love, then, darling, you need to find another man. That’s not what I want tonight. I don’t want to hold you, and go slow and tender. Tonight? I want you hard. I want you fast. I want you every time I ask. I want you on your knees. Tonight, you’re mine. If that’s not what you want? Get another guy to go home with you. You won’t have any trouble finding one. If that’s okay with you...don’t act like you weren’t warned.”
“You’re in charge?” she asked, her voice unsteady.
“Yes.”
“You’ll tell me what to do?” she asked, the black in her eyes expanding, the blue turning to a little sliver of color.
“Yes. Because once we’re in that suite, you’re mine.” He’d never said things like this to a woman in his life. He was polite. Courteous. Respectful.
Never once had he given in to that desire to ask a woman to get on her knees in front of him and do what she was told.
Never once had he spoken with such absolute honesty about what he wanted. Because he’d never been this honest with himself about what he wanted. Because he spent his life in denial of those ugly things, the twisted shadows in his soul, the dirty blood that he couldn’t escape.
“Then let’s go,” she said.
“This is what you want?”
“Do I have to say it again?”
“Do I have to tell you what I want again?”
“Only if you want me to push you up against the wall and have you here and now,” she said. “Because I’ve never had a man say anything like that to me before, and I have to tell you, it’s the sexiest thing I’ve ever heard in my life.”
“Then I suppose we better get to our room.”
She swallowed hard, the motion of her throat fascinating. He wanted to press his lips to it. He wanted to scrape her skin with his teeth and listen to the sound she would make.
He wanted to feel her shiver beneath his touch.
“Yes,” he said again. “We need to go. Now.”
“You going to call us a car?”
“I have a car.”
“Oh.”
“I mean, a driver.”
“That makes more sense. Kind of.”
He held his hand out and she took it, delicate fingers curling around his. “I assume you want to get out without being seen?”
“I’d rather not parade back through the ballroom, now that you mention it.”
“You don’t want to advertise that you’re leaving with me?”
“Not so much. Can we keep it clandestine? That’s pretty sexy, really.”
“You’re ashamed,” he said.
A slash of color faded into her cheeks. “Maybe a little.”
“Because you want me so much.”
“Yes.”
“And that’s bad to you, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” she said. “I think having sex with a stranger is pretty bad.”
“But you sort of like the idea of being a bad girl, don’t you?”
The color in her cheeks deepened. “Seriously, let’s go.”
“We’re going to have fun,” he said, tugging her down the empty hall. Fun was the wrong word for it, though. He could already sense that.
But it would be a release.
And he needed one. More than he’d realized.
When they got into the elevator and the doors closed, he felt the tension wrap around them like a cloak. Thick and heavy. He thought it might suffocate him. He could have her. Push the stop button and push her against the wall. Work it out in five minutes. Take the edge off the intense need.
But it wasn’t what he wanted. Not really.
He wanted to make them both wait.
Wanted to have her to himself. A whole night. A night to play with his demons instead of shoving them down deep. He would feel worse if he didn’t get the sense that she was doing the same. That she was about to perform an exorcism, using his body as holy water.
That suited him just fine.
But the wait didn’t.
“These elevators are effing slow,” she said, letting out a long breath as a five flashed across the light board at the top of the wall.
“They are a bit. I hadn’t noticed until now.”
“Me either. They seemed normal until tonight.”
Four, three, two, L. Thank God.
The doors opened and he walked out ahead of her. He didn’t touch her. Not again. Because it would be too tempting. It would be too much. He was on the edge as it was, and one more brush of her soft skin on his and he would lose it completely.
He picked up his phone. “Car. Up front. Now.”
The lobby doors opened just as his black town car pulled up to the front of the building.
He opened the door and waited. “Get in,” he said when she approached and paused.
She obeyed, lowering her head, the lights from the building shimmering over that hair, still contained in the tight bun. Heat burst through him, starting in his gut and spreading outward, pooling in his groin.
He got in and closed the door. “The Black Book Hotel,” he said to his driver before leaning back in the seat and pressing a button that put up a black divider between them and the man in front.
They hadn’t exchanged names. And that suited him just fine. He didn’t need a name to know that tonight she was his. Though, she might feel differently.
“Did you want to exchange names?” he asked, not sure, if she did, if he would be honest or not.
“I sort of like it like this.”
“Do you?”
“Not being me for the night? It works.”
He’d been right about the demons. Maybe she had a husband or boyfriend. Or it was related to what she felt she owed Jason. He didn’t care. Didn’t care if she loved someone else, as long as tonight, she didn’t think of anyone else.
None of that would come between them tonight. Nothing existed tonight but the fantasy. But a few blessed moments of feeling like there was something in his life that wasn’t beyond him.
“I’m going to kiss you again,” he said. “Come here.”
She was across the car from him, her seat belt buckled. She pressed the button slowly and then put her hands on the seat, crawling to him slowly, on her hands and knees.
Everything in him tightened to the point where he thought he might break. It was the practical way to move across the car; he knew that. But there was something about it that grabbed him by the throat and shook him hard.
His eyes dropped to her breasts, emphasized by the motion, pale and round, spilling over the top of her black dress. Her red lips were parted slightly and it was so easy to imagine them wrapped around his cock. And her hair loose, wrapped around his hand...
Not yet.
He captured her face and leaned in, kissing her firmly, his tongue sliding along the seam of her mouth, delving in deeply when she parted for him. A muffled sound escaped her and he captured it, kissing her harder.
Lust, need, fired through him. All heat and desire, the kind he’d never known had existed before. He’d tasted it. On the edge of dreams, with fantasy women, when he woke up, sweaty and wrapped in his sheets, slick with shame and release.
But never in reality. Because he’d always held a part of himself back. And he’d imagined he always would.
Not tonight.
He kept kissing her, their bodies separate, need roaring through him. He wanted to tug her up against him, to feel those delicious curves pressed against his body, but he was determined to wait.
Determined to prolong the torture because there was something about it—this lust that bordered on pain—that appealed to him in a way that was beyond description. Beyond comprehension.
It wasn’t even his own deprivation that mattered. It was hers. She wanted more. And he wasn’t allowing her to have it. He had her on the brink with just a kiss, and he knew it. And he had the power to deny her pleasure, and right now he was using that power.
The car stopped and he pulled away from her. “Ready?”
She nodded slowly.
“You get out first,” he said.
She did, as she slid past him and opened the car door. She got out and stood on the sidewalk, waiting for him as people walked past, her breath a cloud in the cold air.
He got out, shutting the door behind him. “Walk ahead of me,” he said. “I want to watch you.”
She did, and he followed, his eyes on the elegant curve of her neck, the delicate line of her spine. And her ass. So round and perfect.
She went through the revolving door of the hotel and into the lobby, and he continued in behind her. He liked this. Liked the feeling that she was putting on a show, in public, meant only for him.
Her legs demanded at least an hour devoted to a fantasy starring them exclusively. Sky-high black pumps emphasized the length and the sleek muscles. The seams of her stockings—damn, he hoped they were stay-ups—centered so perfectly in the backs of her calves, a tease, a hint that she was some sort of sweet old-fashioned girl. Which made him want to do bad things to her even more.
He could picture her now, without the dress, stockings and shoes on, bent over a piece of furniture, just waiting for him to take her....
That was going to happen. At some point tonight, he would be sure that it did.
Another damned elevator.
She got inside and leaned back against the walls. The doors started to close and he had to jog to make it in time. He stuck his arm in between them, then slipped inside, letting the doors slide shut behind him.
“That was naughty,” he said.
Her cheeks colored and she met his gaze. “Sorry.”
“Are you?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you do that?”
She lifted one shoulder. “I’m not sure.”
“Are you going out of your way to misbehave?” he asked.
“Maybe.”
“It’s almost like you want some consequences,” he said, his voice tight, making it almost impossible to breathe. He wasn’t sure what he was saying anymore. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking.
Except that it was hard to think with all of his blood just south of his belt.
But fantasies, erotic images, didn’t require much thought. He could think of so many ways to punish her....
No. He had to have a limit.
“If I did?” she asked, sounding breathless. Excited. Aroused.
Damn. This woman was a lit match against a pool of gasoline inside of him. Sitting there, dormant and under control for so many years.
Yeah, he’d known it was there, but he’d done his best to ignore it.
But with her, he was on the verge of exploding. And it was too late to go back.
“I can give them to you, baby, but I’m not sure exactly what you expect.”
“I’m not sure, either. Only that...you make me want things... I don’t know what I want,” she said, her eyes never leaving his. “You’ll have to show me.”
The elevator stopped and the doors opened. He took her hand in his again, her fingers icy now. Nerves. It made him feel like the asshole he very likely was.
He was a stranger. Much larger than her. And here he was, taking her back to a hotel to play power games that not even he knew the boundaries to.
He might just have a spot in hell next to his father yet. The kind of man who said he only wanted to protect women, while he used and manipulated them.
No. This isn’t the same.
Isn’t it?
He shut down that thought and held her more firmly, walking toward the room and checking his phone before keying in the code on the ornate door.
“Ladies first,” he said.
Katy shivered as she walked into the hotel room. There was nothing restrained or modern about their surroundings. It was like a vampire whorehouse. Black fleur-de-lis wallpaper gilded with ornate sconces. A sumptuous bed with deep purple velvet pillows and a black bedspread. Everything about it screamed dark seduction, which was appropriate, since that was what she was in the middle of.
And she didn’t know what she’d been thinking. Not in the car when she’d crawled over to him, not in the elevator when she’d tried to... Had she been trying to make him angry?
No. Because she hadn’t really thought it would make him angry. But she’d thought it might provoke a reaction.
Earn her the threat of punishment.
And there was something about it that she liked. Something about the edge of danger that was wrapped in gauzy sensuality that she found irresistible.
Something that made it feel real and present. It was a desire she’d always known she’d had, but had never, ever been brave enough to go and get.
Until him.
This moment, this man, was like coming up to the surface for air after years of being held underwater. And all she could do was gasp for breath. Take in everything she possibly could.
Because it wouldn’t last. This feeling, this moment, wouldn’t—couldn’t—last.
He closed the door behind them, the sound so final. Strangely arousing. Because this was it. The point of no return.
And she didn’t want to stop anyway.
She turned to face him, his eyes dark. In that moment, she felt she saw this man, this stranger, in a more honest light than she’d ever seen anyone else in her life.
Her parents were always lost in a drug haze. Sarah wrapped up in her ambitions, working to make a life for them, away from the hellhole they lived in. Trey in the safety net of anger that kept him from having to feel just what a horrible life they had.
And as for her? She hid everything. Even from herself.
But this man was looking at her, stark and hungry, in pain. He was stripped bare, standing there in his custom suit. All the expensive fabric and elegant tailoring couldn’t conceal the fact that he was a man on the edge.
And everything in her responded to that fact.
Maybe because it forced her into honesty. Because it made her have to break through the glass case she surrounded herself in. Keeping everyone and everything at a distance so that she could simply make it through life. So that she could make it through to the end without falling into the dark places she used to be.
Because she had no choice but to make it to the end.
To her revenge. To her justice.
Her entire life was lived for someone else. All of her desires sealed away safely.
Until now. Until this moment.
That was why she wanted it all. Every emotion in this one experience. Why she wanted it intense and dark and everything she’d ever wanted sex to be.
Because this was all she would get. This night. This man. And then it was back to living for other people.
Back inside her glass case.
Not tonight. Tonight she was simply going to follow his orders. And whatever it made her feel would be for her. Not anyone else.
Confessing ignorance. Asking for help. They were two things she never did. Normally she would rather chew glass. But this...game. Whatever it was. This thing with him made it okay. It made it feel right. It made it feel okay.
More than that, it felt like a release in and of itself. The slow removal of a weight she hadn’t known she’d been carrying.
“Stand against the wall,” he said.
She did, because obeying him gave her a sort of illicit thrill. “Now what?”
“I want to see you without that dress.”
“You don’t want to kiss me first?” she asked, feeling nervous.
“No.”
“But—”
“Take off your dress for me. Now.”
She put her arm behind her back and gripped her zipper with shaking fingers, drawing it down slowly, her breathing harsh and unsteady, her heart thundering in her ears.
The bodice went slack, sliding down and revealing her breasts, covered by a black satin push-up bra that was doing her a whole lot of favors.
His nostrils flared, his jaw clenched tight as his hand drifted to the bulge at the front of his slacks. His fingers drifted along the ridge there and she had to squeeze her thighs together to try to assuage the answering ache between her legs.
“The rest,” he said, his voice rough.
She pushed the dress down her hips on her exhalation, and let it pool at her feet. She kicked the dress aside, leaning against the wall. The velvet fleur-de-lis and satin that covered the wall was both warm and cool against her skin.
She lifted her hands to the front clasp of her bra.
“No,” he said, his hand pausing over his clothed erection. “Leave it. Everything else stays for now.”
He approached her slowly, a predator stalking his prey. His movements liquid and powerful. He extended his hand and brushed his thumb over her cheek.
“I think I first saw you two hours ago,” he said. “It feels like I’ve been waiting for you for a lot longer than that.”
“Forever, even,” she said, her heart pounding hard, virginal nerves starting to get the better of her.
What had she gotten herself into? This was a situation, a man, way above her pay grade.
But he’s the man you deserve. After waiting so long. After working so hard for everyone else. You haven’t felt anything for so long. And he’ll make you feel it all.
Her inner selfish heathen was determined to have her way tonight, and damn the consequences.
He moved to her, pressing his body against hers, her back firm against the wall. He leaned in, kissing her hard, his mouth savage, demanding. He cupped her face, blunt fingertips digging into her skin as he took possession of her with his lips, teeth and tongue.
She kissed him back, helpless to do anything but answer his every demand.
She’d never even conceived of a kiss like this. Filled with so much desperation. So much need.
The need to control, the need to submit. The need to possess and the need to yield.
It was everything, and it all blended together. His needs and hers. It was a perfect storm, and it was happening around them. In them.
He lowered his head, lips on her neck, her collarbone. He cupped her breasts, lowered his head and slid the flat of his tongue down between the valley of her breasts.
She arched into him, her shoulder blades still against the wall, a hoarse cry rising in her throat.
“How should I punish you?” he asked, scraping his teeth along the plump curve of her breast before soothing it with his tongue. “With pleasure? With pain? Or do you like both?” He bit her again, harder this time, the shaft of pure, undiluted lust it sent through her far more shocking than the sting he left behind.
“I like whatever you want to give me,” she said, shocked by the huskiness in her tone. By the confidence in the statement.
“That’s what I want to hear.” He grabbed the cup of her bra and tugged it down. “You are beautiful.” He rubbed his thumb over the tip of her nipple, drawing it into a point so tight it hurt in the best way possible.
Yes. She liked whatever he wanted to give.
And it made all of this so easy.
He tugged the other side of her bra down and squeezed her nipple between his thumb and forefinger, increasing the pressure until she had to bite her lip to keep from whimpering from the pain.
“You like it,” he said, not a question.
She nodded.
“Good. I like it, too,” he said. “I like that I can push it to the edge with you. That you want me enough that it all feels good. That’s it, isn’t it?”
A rush of warmth burst through her. “Yes.”
“I bet I know what you want,” he said.
“Do you?”
“You want to come.”
His words sent a shaft of heat—embarrassed and aroused—through her. “Well, doesn’t everyone?”
He chuckled, low and sexy. “I suppose. But that’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Tell me.”
“I want to...” She’d never said anything like this out loud before. “I want to c-come.”
“Have I mentioned,” he said, not addressing what she said at all, “that I was dying to see you in these stockings and heels?”
“No...”
“I was.” He slid his finger along the lace top of her stay-ups. “So sexy. And these...” He moved his index finger to the top of her panties and dipped it beneath the thin black fabric. She could hardly breathe. Her body felt like it was going to burst into flame at any moment. “These are perfect. But—” he slipped his hand down inside, his palm barely skimming the most intimate part of her as he pushed her underwear down her legs “—I don’t think you’ll need them for a while.”
He cupped her then, sliding his fingers across her slick flesh, one pressing inside of her. She gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into his skin.
He rocked his palm against her clitoris as he pushed his finger in deep, sending a shock wave of sensation through her.
He dropped down to his knees and kissed her stomach, leaning in then and removing his hand, flicking his tongue over her clit while his finger worked in time with the strokes.
“Oh...” She laced her fingers through his hair and held her to him, her head back against the wall as she warred between trying to figure out how she’d gotten here tonight, mostly naked, with a man on his knees in front of her, and just trying not to black out.
She held him tight to her, flexing her hips and chasing her release. She was close...so close...
“Enough,” he said. “Not yet.”
“No,” she said, tightening her hold on his hair.
“You aren’t in any position to give orders,” he said, moving away from her and standing. She wanted to cry with frustration now.
“I need...”
“I know what you need,” he said. He started to loosen his tie, undoing the knot and letting it drape over his shoulder. Then he shrugged his coat off. Undid his cuffs. It was maddening to watch. Each detail meticulous, far too slow and utterly arousing.
She didn’t want to watch him do the world’s slowest striptease. She wanted him to touch her again. Taste her again.
“We do need some rules,” he said. “Because I want control, but I don’t want to hurt you. Not really. If you need me to stop, you tell me to stop. Just say the word. Don’t think it. Don’t hope it. Say it. I want control, but not force. Do you promise to tell me to stop?” There was something in his eyes when he said that, something that tugged at her. And there was a strand of fear in his voice.
As if he were truly afraid she would let him go too far.
And she realized something. He wanted control, but only the control she would give him.
That was her power. He needed this from her, but she had to be willing to give it. She had to trust him enough that she believed he would stop if she asked.
She nodded slowly. “Yes.”
“Good,” he said, the word rough. “Now, on the bed.”
“What...now?”
“On the bed,” he said. “Don’t talk unless I tell you to. Get on the bed, in your high heels and stockings, and spread your legs for me.”
She kept her eyes on his, because she had a feeling she wasn’t permitted to look away, as she got onto the massive bed. She lay back, breathing difficult now as she put her feet as flat as she could.
Her sky-high shoes almost lifted her rear up off the mattress, leaving her feeling extra exposed. Exceedingly vulnerable.
She’d never been naked in front of a man before. Ever. And this didn’t follow any guidebook she’d read for sex. Didn’t evoke any of the random novels she’d thumbed through looking for the good stuff.
But what she wanted never had. But that hadn’t stopped her from wanting it.
She had no idea what he would do next. No idea what to expect.
He slid his tie from his shoulders, the stretch of black silk held taut between both of his hands. “You aren’t allowed to come until I say you can,” he said. “And you can’t touch me,” he said, his voice lowering, “until I allow it.”
“But...”
“Shhh,” he said, leaning forward, touching the stretch of black silk to her lips, like he meant to gag her with it. “No talking.” Then he moved the tie, laying it over her eyes. “I like that idea,” he said. “But I need to be able to hear you if you need me to.” He lifted the tie higher, to where her hands were resting above her head. The position had seemed natural to her. And now she understood why.
He slipped the expanse of silk behind her wrists and then wrapped it around one, then the other, before binding them together. She knew that if she told him no, he would stop. So she said nothing. Because she wanted it. Because she liked the element of feeling as though he’d done it without her permission.
He rose up above her. “So beautiful. And mine,” he said. He put his hands on her legs and pushed them even farther apart, his gaze roaming over her. “All mine.” He lowered his head and pressed a kiss to the tender skin on her inner thigh before moving on to more intimate territory.
He began to pleasure her with his mouth again, pushing one finger inside of her, then another, pushing her higher, closer to the edge before stopping, pulling back.
She wanted to tell him to stop. That it was too much. But then he would stop, like he’d promised, and she didn’t want that, either.
She bit her lip, flexed her hips, tried to force herself closer to him.
“No,” he said, sliding his tongue over her clit. “You aren’t in charge here, sweetheart. I am. Stop trying to break the rules.”
He withdrew his fingers from her body and slid them upward, white-hot pleasure spiking through her as he did. “Open,” he said, and she did. “Suck on them for me.”
This was a test. To see if she would obey. And she wouldn’t fail his test. She opened for him and he slipped his fingers between her lips and she could taste her own pleasure on them. Could taste the evidence of what he’d done to her.
She ran her tongue along his fingers as he pushed them in her mouth and out again and she felt him shudder, the muscles in his body tensing.
He reached around behind her head, braced one hand on her neck, grabbed the end of his tie with the other and brought her into a sitting position, with her hands neatly in her lap. Still bound.
“On your knees,” he said, drawing back and getting off of the bed, his hands working at the belt on his slacks.
He placed the belt on the edge of the mattress, his movements just as controlled and methodical now as they’d been when he undid his cuffs and tie.
He moved to unbutton his shirt, working silently as he released the buttons, exposing a wedge of tan skin. He shrugged the shirt from his broad shoulders, muscles shifting with the motion.
She couldn’t take her eyes off of him. Off of each sharply defined line. How each movement sent off a ripple effect through his torso. He straightened and her eyes locked on to the dark hair that covered his chest and ran in a line down the center of his perfectly defined abs. Just enough to remind her that he was a man, not enough to conceal up all those gorgeous muscles.
She wanted to touch him. But she was still tied.
“I said on your knees,” he repeated.
She repositioned herself, her hands in front of her, her heels beneath her butt, her knees denting the mattress.
He put his hand behind her head and started releasing her hair from its pins. It fell around her in a dark, silken wave, moving over her shoulders, covering her breasts.
“I’ve been having fantasies about your hair,” he said, his expression tense. Hard. Like a man carved from stone. Like a man trying, so very hard, to hold everything—his emotions, his desires—at bay.
She watched as his hands went to the closure on his slacks. Her throat went dry and she swallowed hard, finding breathing difficult.
She’d never seen a naked man in person before. And here she was, about to be confronted with her first, her hands tied.
You could tell him to stop....
No. She didn’t want that.
He shrugged his underwear and pants down, exposing himself to her for the first time. She’d had a fair idea, judging from the bulge, that he was not a small man. But that was a bit of an understatement.
He wrapped his hand around his shaft and she watched, mesmerized, as he stroked himself once. Twice. Closing his eyes as he did, muttering something. A curse, a prayer. She wasn’t sure.
He kept one hand on his erection, and cupped her cheek with the other, before moving it to her hair, sifting the strands through his fingers.
He pushed her hair back, gathering it in his fist and twisting it around his hand, his hold firm. He didn’t pull; he simply held her. Captive. At his mercy.
Pleasure and excitement shivered along her spine as she waited to see what he would do next. What he would demand next.
She bit her lip, her eyes on his arousal.
“You want that?” he asked.
She nodded slowly, waiting for his order.
He moved closer to her and she tried to lean in but he held her fast, pain tingling around her scalp as he held her hair tight, keeping her in place.
“I didn’t say you could do that yet,” he said.
He tugged her hair again, forcing her head back. She looked up at him, their eyes locking. “Please,” she said, breaking his rule.
She was hungry. For him. For every experience he could give. Everything she’d missed.
She parted her lips and waited for him to come to her. He moved closer and she touched the tip of his shaft with her tongue, her eyes on his face. She could see the tension there, could see how much he wanted it. That he was denying them both for some reason.
She opened wider and took more of him in. He held her tight, guiding her, setting the pace. She watched him, watched to see if he was getting the same pleasure from this that she’d gotten when he’d done it for her.
And it was her turn to deny him. To push him to the edge. To feel him shake, even while he held her in his iron grip.
He pushed his hips toward her and guided her head down and she took him in deep, her tongue moving along the hard ridge of him.
He swore and pulled her back. “Not yet. Not like that,” he said.
He released his hold on her hair and stepped back, sweat making his chest and shoulders glisten. She just wanted to stare at him for a moment. At that hard flat stomach, the lines that framed the part of his body she was enjoying so much.
“I’m not waiting anymore,” he said, opening the drawer by the bed and pulling out a condom. The amenities he’d requested in his phone call earlier, no doubt. “Turn around,” he said. “Face the headboard.”
She turned away from him reluctantly. She wanted to keep staring at him. She wanted to memorize this moment. This night. No, it wasn’t sweet lovemaking. But it was what she needed.
And she had no idea when she would have the chance to do something like this ever again. Hell, it would never be like this again.
Because she’d never had a connection like this with anyone else. This raw, visceral understanding that went beneath their social veneers and touched on something real.
She hadn’t made the choice to be honest with him. She’d had no other option. She suspected it was the same for him.
This man who was clearly from a life so obviously different from hers. A guest at the party, not the help. And yet he knew her. And she knew him.
She felt the mattress depress behind her, his hand on her hip, the other on her arm.
He swept her hair to the side and kissed her neck, the action surprisingly gentle. He slid his fingertips along her elbows, then gripped her wrists, lifting them slightly and looping them over the thick, black bedpost.
He let his hand drift from there, over her breasts, down to her stomach, between her legs. He repositioned her, bringing her ass up against him. He was hot and hard behind her, his fingers teasing her now, ramping up her arousal, keeping her nerves at bay.
She gasped as he pushed two fingers inside of her again, testing her slickness, testing her readiness.
She wasn’t sure how much it would hurt. But tonight, there had already been some pain, and he’d made it okay. More than okay—he made it good. He would make this good, too.
He knew her body. Knew how to keep her walking that fine line between pleasure and pain. Knew when to pull back, when to push for more.
So she trusted him to do this, too.
He withdrew his fingers and repositioned them both. Then he was pressed against the entrance to her body, sliding in slowly, his grip tight on her hip.
She bit her lip, trying to keep from whimpering. It was the burning pain she hadn’t expected. Pain, yes, but not quite this kind. It made her eyes water, made her shake.
“Stop?” he asked, his voice hard.
“No,” she said, pulling down hard on her restraints, the bedpost biting into her wrists.
He tugged back on her hip and thrust hard, driving himself in to the hilt. He cursed again and started moving inside of her, the pain gradually decreasing, pleasure slowly blooming in her stomach and spreading outward.
All of the fire, the need, from every touch, every tease, every glance since she’d first seen him came roaring through her, the heat threatening to consume her completely.
He moved his hand between her legs, his fingers teasing her in time with his thrusts. “Come for me,” he said. “Come for me now.”
His words hit just as his fingertip brushed against her clit, just as he filled her with another hard thrust, and pushed her over the edge.
Her release was hard. Bursting inside of her, leaving shock waves of heat behind. Leaving her shaking, her shoulders aching.
He let out a harsh growl, both of his hands tight on her hips, fingertips digging into her skin, his hold so hard she thought it might leave a bruise. And in the wake of her orgasm, she prayed it did.
That there would be a physical brand of what he’d done to her. How he’d changed her.
There was no sound in the room beyond their splintered breathing. Until his voice broke the silence.
“Damn,” he said, his forehead resting on her shoulder blade, his breath hot on her skin. “You should have said something.”
“I wasn’t allowed to talk,” she said.
He swore again, reaching over and tugging her hand from around the bedpost. He moved away from her and started to untie her hands. “You should have told me.”
“What exactly?”
“You have blood on your legs,” he said, his tone grim.
“Oh. That.”
“The fact that you were a virgin should have come up,” he growled. “How the hell were you a virgin?”
“You’re so sure I was?” she asked, feeling shaken. Unsure of what to do with herself.
“Yes,” he said, though he didn’t sound sure now.
“You an expert?”
“I’m not. That’s the thing. Never done that before, but then, that’s why it seemed different.” He turned away from her and discarded the condom in a wastebasket by the bed.
“Or maybe I just feel different. Maybe I’m just different,” she said, only realizing after that the statement sounded just a little needy.
“Are you going to tell me you weren’t a virgin?”
“I don’t get why you’re angry,” she said.
“Because!” he shouted, turning back around, his chest pitching sharply. “You let that be your first time? What the hell is wrong with you? Didn’t I warn you?”
She bit the inside of her cheek and rubbed her wrist, where the tie had left red marks on her skin. “You don’t even know my name. Why would I tell you how many men I’ve been with?”
“Or haven’t been with.”
“Whatever.” She rolled her eyes. “I got what I wanted.”
He curled his lip. “How could that have given you anything you wanted?”
“It just did. Also not something I need to share with you. My reasons are mine. And I’m sure your reasons for getting off on telling a woman to get on her knees and suck your dick are yours. But you know what? It’s none of my business.”
“You should go,” he said.
“Actually,” she said, getting off the bed, her ankle rolling thanks to her damn four-inch heels, “I should. I... Thanks for the sex, or whatever it is you people of sophistication say in situations like this. I am just a poor, hapless virgin, so I’m at a loss.”
“Get your clothes.”
“I’m not taking orders from you right now,” she spat, bending down to get her dress. “If you’re in the mood to give orders, though, order me a car. How about that?”
“No problem.” He bent down and picked his pants up, tugging his phone out of his pocket. “Send the car up front. You’re just picking up my friend for now.”
He hung up and she stood there, her dress crushed against her breasts. He was still naked. Still beautiful beyond reason.
And still bleeding emotion. It was hemorrhaging between them. Their needs mixing, mingling into one giant pool of regret.
“I have a feeling we’re both a bit too many levels of screwed up to be able to deal with each other,” she said, looking down at the ground. At her feet, still clad in those patent-leather black high heels.
“I imagine you’re right.”
She stepped into her dress and zipped it up. And they stood there. Like two strangers. Like he hadn’t been inside of her only a few moments ago.
Like he hadn’t left marks on her. Inside and out.
His phone buzzed. “That would be your car.”
“Spiffy.” She turned, and the moment she couldn’t see him anymore, her heart squeezed so tight she thought she would suffocate. “Hey, before I go,” she said, turning partially, “did you want my name?”
He shook his head. “I don’t need it.”
More than that, he didn’t want it. She could see it. That he was almost afraid of it. Afraid to put a name to the virgin he’d just violated, or whatever the hell issue he was having. Afraid to have a name for the woman he was throwing out only minutes after having sex with her.
“Katy,” she said, her hand on the doorknob. “My name is Katy Michaels. It was nice to have met you.”
