Bound to be Tempted: Emergence, Book 4 (17 page)

She smiled and tightened the grip she had with her ankles around him.

He held her stare for long moments until she blushed from the intensity of his gaze. “You can put me down now.”

“Not yet.”

As though she weighed nothing, he continued to hold her pressed against the wall, his cock still hard and buried deep inside her.

As he watched her face, her arousal built again. He pressed his cock deeper, the base shoved tight against her clit. “That’s it, baby. Let it build.” He continued staring. “Lift your arms behind your head.”

She didn’t drop his gaze as she obeyed him, her breasts rising as her elbows rose high above her head.

Carlton leaned his chest back, only inches, but enough to expose her nipples. His torso still held her wedged against the wall. He smoothed his hand down from her cheek to her breast. With one finger, he tapped the dangling clamp, making it sway.

Margaret sucked in a breath. She lowered her gaze to her chest. While she watched, he grasped the clamp between his thumbs and index fingers. She moaned even before he moved, and then she screamed when he released her nipple and quickly repeated the action on the other side. The removal was much worse than the placement. The sharp pain was unexpected and instantaneous, but at the same time, her pussy gripped his cock harder.

He dropped the clamps to the floor and then cupped her breast again, rubbing and pinching her nipple. “Maggie, baby. That’s so hot. Are you okay?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Still gripping her breast, he firmly kept her planted to the wall with his other hand under her ass. She was confused, momentarily, until he removed his cock and slammed back into her.

Margaret’s breath whooshed out of her lungs.

He did it again. And again.

Her pussy pleaded for more, shocking her after the recent earth-shattering orgasm.

Thumb pressing into her nipple, palm up the underside of her breasts, fingers splayed at her armpit, he held her steady as he plowed in and out of her. Relentlessly. His gaze bored into her face. She knew it without looking.

The need for another orgasm built so rapidly she couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Each time his cock pulled away from her, it sucked some of her brain out of her skull. But it felt so good she never wanted it to end.

“I want… You… To come… Again.” He punctuated each word with the thrust of his cock. And then suddenly he stopped.

Her mouth fell open, the protest on the tip of her tongue.

“Look at me. Yeah, baby. Look into my eyes.” He waited for her to obey. “I need to taste you.” Still lodged inside her, he moved from the wall, cupping her ass with his free hand.

She lost her balance and flung her arms around his neck.

Seconds later, he spun in the other direction and set her ass on the edge of his desk. He eased her back onto the cold surface. Her feet hung in the air with nothing to gain purchase against. It didn’t matter because Carlton grabbed her thighs under her knees and spread them high and wide. “Arms over your head, baby.”

He must’ve trusted her because his gaze didn’t lift from her swollen, needy pussy.

And in a heartbeat, his lips were on her, his tongue plunging into her while at the same time he sucked her clit into his mouth. He moaned around her entrance, pressing harder, demanding more.

Margaret’s legs shook. Her arousal skyrocketed. His own come oozed from her body. He sucked and licked her as though it meant nothing to him. The heady idea made her flush as he continued devouring her pussy. The way he consumed her made her feel cherished and more desired than any man ever had. Or woman for that matter.

If it were possible, he pressed her knees higher, wider. Splayed open and at his mercy, Margaret let herself sink into a place where the only thing she knew was his mouth loving her. She whimpered. She could hear the small sounds, but she didn’t care. She only cared about the intensity of the orgasm about to wash through her.

And then it did, her entire pussy pulsing against his lips, grasping at his tongue, swelling as she teetered over the edge. She couldn’t breathe. She didn’t remember how. All she knew was the pulsing of her clit.

He didn’t stop until every wave was sucked from her body. And even then, he continued to lick her clean. “You’re amazing, Maggie. I’m humbled. You’re going to make some Dom a very happy man one day.” He tucked his hands under her shoulders and lifted her body until she sat on the edge of the desk, her chest pressed against his. He buried his face in the curve of her neck, every breath he took sending tingles down her spine. At the same time, she held her breath to keep from choking at his last line. He fully intended to let her go still. It was surreal. How could he be this kind and caring and proclaim he had no intention of keeping her at the same time?

When he finally pulled back enough to look at her, his face was serious. “Let’s go home, baby.”

Chapter Thirteen

Margaret pulled into the driveway and then eased her car into the garage. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. She was growing more angsty by the day. She hadn’t received any more notes, but every time she was in the car going to or from work, she felt like someone was tailing her. It was crazy. Who the hell would be following her? She needed to get a grip on her nerves before she went inside.

As she lowered the garage door from inside the car, she stared through the windshield at the far wall, thinking about the past few days. Perfect. Too perfect. Carlton had pampered the hell out of her. She’d easily slipped into the role he’d demanded and loved every minute of it. After three days back at work, it was beginning to feel normal for her to come home to Carlton.

She worried she was getting too comfortable. She knew she was falling too hard for him. Was it simply because he was her first—first man, first male Dom, first firm Dom? No matter what the reason, she knew this was temporary. She reminded herself every day. Carlton was kind and caring, and she swore she could see more than just a desire to train her deep behind his brown eyes, no matter how many times he insisted otherwise.

Every morning he fixed her breakfast while she showered. She came to him, naked, her hair still damp, and kneeled at his feet. The way he fed her, smiled at her, even wiped the crumbs from her mouth, aroused her just as much as he could with his hands on her body. He cleared away the dishes while she waited and then led her back to the bedroom. Each morning he spread the towel on the edge of the bed, and she lay down and splayed herself open for him to shave. He helped her dress, her body trembling with need under his administrations.

He would kiss her gently as she left the house, his thumbs grazing over her nipples beneath her blouse. That action always left her shivering as she started her car with shaky hands. Did he know how aroused she was before she left the house each day?

And he was beyond overprotective when it came to her driving. On Monday he’d offered to take her to work and pick her up. She’d balked. “Why on earth would you do that? I’m perfectly capable of driving myself.” She’d thought for a moment he was being too controlling if he didn’t trust her to go to work and come home. But then he’d clarified: it wasn’t trusting her that was his issue. It was her safety. “In my car?” she’d asked.

He’d held his breath and pursed his lips and then nodded. “Just be careful. There are a lot of crazy drivers out there.” For that reason, she wasn’t about to tell him she had the crazed idea someone was following her. He’d never let her leave the house alone if he suspected as much.

Hell, maybe he
did
suspect as much. Had he also noticed someone tailing them over the weekend? Maybe it wasn’t just her. Maybe his weird fear was founded on his own creepy sensation, and neither of them were willing to admit to the other what they suspected.

He still didn’t know about the note, though.

He hadn’t fucked her in the mornings. To be honest, there hadn’t been time. But every day she left for work trembling with need. To anyone looking on, she appeared perfectly normal. Nobody on the streets or at work could possibly know about the lacy demi-bra or her lack of panties. Those two unseen aspects alone kept her horny all day every day.

A noise jerked her attention to the present, and she glanced over to see Carlton standing in the doorway. She had no idea how long she’d been sitting in the car. Her hand still rested on the keys from turning it off, but otherwise she sat slouched in the seat.

She immediately pulled herself together, grabbed her purse and keys and climbed out of the car.

Carlton’s face was hard as she approached him.

“Sorry, Sir. I guess I got distracted.” She winced as she passed him. He hadn’t said a word, and she feared he was angry. She hadn’t seen him angry with her yet.

“Where were you? You’re late. You never work this late,” he said to her back.

She set her purse on the counter and turned to face him, keeping her gaze lowered, her stance appropriate for a submissive. “I had to stay longer than I thought at work, Sir.”

He paused. “You need to let me know when you do that. You worried me.”

Worried? “I was fine. I’m here now.” Was he that concerned with her driving?

He approached and pulled her into his arms, hugging her tight as though relieved to find her alive.

And that was strange.

“Why are you still dressed?” he asked her neck where he had his face buried, clearly inhaling her scent.

When he released her, she tried not to chuckle.
Because you haven’t given me a chance
. She unbuttoned her blouse and shrugged out of it first, setting it on the counter. Next she unzipped her skirt and stepped out of it and her pumps at the same time. She added her skirt to the pile and reached behind her back to unsnap her bra, what there was of it.

When she was finished, she stood awaiting his next request. Clearly he was in a serious mood. All his words had been growled so far, and there had been few of them.

She spread her legs to his liking, linked her hands behind her back, lifted her shoulders and dipped her head.

Her nipples beaded as she stood there, feeling his gaze bore into her. Finally, he circled her body slowly, not speaking until he came back to her front.

She flinched when he reached forward and tweaked a nipple without warning. “I got new clamps today.” His voice was less harsh, as though he was calming from his earlier stress and concern. He reached into his pocket and removed two silver clips, which he held up in his palm for her perusal.

“They’re lovely, Sir.” And they were. Still dainty enough she knew they wouldn’t hurt too bad, feminine, sexy, but the heart-shaped pendants that would hang from her nipples appeared heavier than the bells.

Carlton cupped one breast with his free hand and molded it. He grasped the tip between his fingers and teased her until it stood at attention, pinching, tugging, twisting. When he was satisfied, he held it out and clasped it with one of the new clamps.

Margaret winced, but remained still. She knew what to expect and even craved the feeling, but the initial shock was new to her.

“So pretty,” he murmured as he flicked a finger over the tip. “Do you have any idea how sexy you are?” He grasped the other nipple in the same fashion and gave it its due attention before clasping it also.

The same tiny gasp escaped her lips unbidden.

“You’ll learn to do that without making a sound. I know it’s new, but soon.”

She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

Next, he shocked her by lifting her onto the counter so fast the breath whooshed from her lungs. “Spread your legs so I can see your pussy while I cook, baby.”

She inched her thighs apart, grabbing the edge of the counter to keep her balance. He’d never requested this of her before. Normally he had her kneel at the table or in the kitchen, out of his way.

“Sit straight. Hands behind your back.”

She followed his directives, lengthening her spine.

“Perfect.” He reached inside her pussy with one finger and then dragged it back out to trail it up and over her clit.

When he sucked his pointer into his mouth, she stiffened to keep from flinching or moaning. “Excellent.” He turned and pulled things from the refrigerator and set them on the counter next to her. Every few moments he touched her somewhere: her thigh, her nipple, her clit… Just a brief flick of his finger, enough to keep her on edge and drive her higher as he worked.

She remained quiet. She’d fought with him the first few nights about helping him, and he’d made it clear he was going to do the majority of the housework because she worked longer hours. He wanted her naked and horny, nothing else.

Next to her, he diced vegetables—onions, carrots, broccoli. He picked up a baby carrot and nonchalantly pressed it into her pussy. “Hold that for me, would you?” He went back to work.

The carrot was small, but its presence inside her seemed like a cucumber for how erotic it was.

When he took a break from chopping to make a drink, she watched him intently from her peripheral vision. He dropped several ice cubes into a glass, one at a time with no haste. How could he make a drink so damn sexy?

Next he added cold water from the refrigerator, the sound of it filling the glass making her shiver with desire, though she had no idea why. Perhaps because everything he did, he did with a specific intention. The man wasn’t just thirsty. He had a plan. He always had a plan.

Sure enough, he offered her a drink, holding her neck tipped back with one hand while he let the cool water run into her mouth. She found she was actually thirsty and welcomed the liquid. At the last second, the ice broke apart in the glass and sent a splash of water running down her chin, her neck, her breasts.

Carlton didn’t comment, but he tipped her head back into his preferred position with one hand while the other, still holding the glass, leaned too close to her chest and pressed the cold surface against her nipple.

“Sorry, baby.” He kissed the tip gently as though he’d truly committed an accidental infraction and had somehow injured her. When he stepped back, the little heart swayed in front of her. He reached into her pussy with two fingers and pulled out the carrot, which he tossed in the sink. Then he set the glass down between her legs nonchalantly, strategically placing it against her pussy, as though that were the only counter space available, and went back to work.

Every noise in the room seemed more pronounced as he turned on the stove and tossed the vegetables into the popping oil. Every smell increased as her senses went on high alert. She fought the urge to pull away from the cold glass at her pussy, knowing he would come up with something much worse if she moved even a centimeter.

He lifted the glass, took another sip and set it back down, pushing it closer to her center.

Her pulse beat in her thighs, all her blood running to her pussy, her wetness mixing with the condensation on the glass to create a pool on the counter between her legs.

Carlton ignored her plight as though nothing were amiss. He tossed chicken into another pan, the sizzling making her jump enough to cause the glass to teeter forward before settling back against her. She cringed as he turned toward her, catching the disturbance. “Sit still, Maggie. You’re too squirmy tonight.”

She nearly moaned. Need grew as he worked.

The next time he picked up the glass, he let his fingers drag through her spread lips. “Baby, you’re so wet. Is my cooking that sexy?” He took a drink and then reached into the glass to fish out an ice cube.

Maggie inhaled sharply and held her breath, waiting for whatever plan he had for that melting ice. She’d stared at it all this time, knowing it wouldn’t end in water while resting in that glass.

Sure enough, Carlton tapped it against her nipple, making the little bud hypersensitive.

She flinched.

He set a hand on her back and stroked the other nipple with the ice. “So wiggly, baby. I need you to learn to stay still for me.”

Stay still
… His favorite words. And damn him for using them so often she was constantly a needy ball of nerves.

Back and forth he moved the ice, from one nipple to the other. And then, casually as he had tossed the carrot in the sink, he pushed the ice cube deep inside her pussy.

She braced herself. The cold was intense inside her, making her pussy clutch at the ice, which aggravated her when she’d rather push the offensive cube out.

Carlton reached back into the glass and grabbed a second, larger cube, which he added to the first. He went back to work, stirring the vegetables and chicken in the pans while she clenched at the ice cubes and fought the impending orgasm.

When he stepped back, he fished out another cube.

She didn’t think she could take any more. The first two had not melted inside her.

This third one he didn’t press into her though. Instead he lifted the hood off her clit with his free hand and flattened the cube against her nub.

Margaret moaned loudly, the sound coming out all on its own.

“As much as I love your noises, I haven’t given you permission to make them. Curtail the sounds, baby.” He spoke soothingly as though her infraction were no big deal, when she knew without a doubt she would pay later. Pay dearly. Pay with denial. His favorite.

When the ice finally melted against her clit, he lifted her face with his freezing cold hand and met her gaze with a smile. “Ah, baby. I love that look. The one where your eyes are so glazed you can’t quite see me.”

She blinked.

“It makes me so fucking hard when you look at me like that.” He released her entirely and went back to work.

Stunned, she watched him, or tried to anyway. Her body was on fire, her thighs shaking with unfinished need. Her nipples pleaded for release they wouldn’t get anytime soon.

Carlton didn’t touch her pussy again while he cooked. He would know she was too close to withstand any contact. But he did jiggle the hearts dangling from her nipples several times, reverently admiring them with small kisses or displaying them by lifting her breasts up in his palms. He was without a doubt a nipple man.

With dinner finally ready, he set a huge plate on the kitchen table, as usual, and then lifted Margaret from the counter. He patted her ass. “You know what to do.”

She did. Careful to keep her legs spread, she padded toward his chair and kneeled on the floor in her spot. The moisture from the ice and her arousal dripped down her leg, making her struggle to keep from fidgeting.

Carlton took his seat and proceeded to feed her succulent bites of stir-fry. He always fed her first, his own needs secondary. He watched her closely, learning her capacity better each day, making her feel treasured. In between bites, he gave her a drink of water or wine. Even when he chewed his own bites, she felt his gaze on her throat, her mouth, her lips.

It was almost overwhelming how absorbed he was. And still her body hummed with need.

When the meal was over, she bit her lip to keep from requesting that he let her clean. He’d made that clear also. Not yet. He wanted to do everything for her.