Dear Sir, I'm Yours (20 page)

“To get in your pants?” He laughed, burying his fingers in her hair so he could gently guide her face back to his neck. If she was tempted to bite a hunk out of him, he’d at least make it easy for her. “I’m getting in your pants one way or another, darlin’. Go ahead and tell me all about this dark, horrible need you have. What do you want to do to me?”

“I want—” He could feel the torching heat of her face against his flesh, burning with embarrassment and reluctance. Encouragingly, he massaged the back of her skull, letting the slight motion move her mouth against his skin. His heartbeat quickened in anticipation.

Whispering so softly he nearly couldn’t hear her, she admitted the truth. “I want to bite you again.”

“How hard?” Anticipating her attempt at withdrawal, he kept his hand firm on her head, refusing to allow her to pull away. “Hard enough to leave the mark of your teeth in me? Hard enough to make me shake and curse beneath you? Hard enough to taste my skin in your mouth, to test the strength and depth of my will? Because if that’s what you want, then my answer is hell yeah.”

She twisted her mouth off his skin, her lips tight and closed as though she feared getting her teeth anywhere near him. “Richard didn’t like it. He said it hurt.”

Blistering rage poured through Conn and he hauled in a deep breath, held it, and slowly let it out before he trusted himself to respond without obscenities. “I think we’ve already covered my negative opinion of Dick. Bite me all you want.” He tucked her head deeper into the cradle of his shoulder and neck. “I mean it, Rae. When you bit me at the diner, I loved it. I wanted to haul you into my lap just like this and strip off my clothes so you could bite me anywhere you wanted. Now’s your chance.”

“That was…nothing.” Her voice was muffled against his throat, trembling with need.

Every brush of her lips was torture. “Just a nibble.”

“Good.” He let his tone turn vicious. The thought of her suffering some secret shame because of that dick of an ex-husband made him want to grab the claymore, jump in the Mustang, and hunt the bastard down. The beating he’d given Jared Kent years ago was nothing to what he’d do to Dick if he ever laid eyes on him. “I’m more than man enough to see to your needs, Rae. There’s absolutely nothing you could ever want that will fail to turn me on.”

She tried to retreat one last time, jerking against his firm grip on her head. Finally she sagged against him, her face fully against his throat. “You can’t want me to hurt
you
.”

Ah. Confused and worried about her own pain-pleasure line, she didn’t expect him, as the dominant, to lean toward an enjoyment of small pain too. He gripped her hand and pressed her palm against the erection straining inside his jeans. “The hell I don’t. Did it hurt when I spanked you?”

Rubbing him through the jeans, she spoke with a thickened voice husky with rising desire. “Yes, some.”

Deliberately, he moved her hand back up to his upper body. If he didn’t get inside her soon, he was going to embarrass himself and earn a big fat F the first time she graded him in bed, but he wasn’t breaking his word tonight. “That’s exactly why you liked it. You want it to hurt, just a little, just enough to make it feel good, damned good.”

She shuddered. “Yes.”

“I’ll let you hurt me just enough to feel damned good.” He released her head, forcing her to make the choice for herself. She might duck out on this test tonight, but he’d certainly reschedule a make-up exam again, and again, until she’d wiped the memory of Dick’s refusal from her mind. “Trust me to know my own limits and help you stay within them.”

Rubbing her face against his throat slowly back and forth, she finally opened her mouth against his neck. He exhaled, long and slow, letting some of the tension out of his shoulders.

The first battle was done, with likely many more to go, exactly why he relished her challenge.

He turned his head slightly to give her better access, silently urging her to test him.

Test this boundary with me. Let me show you my control.

She scraped her teeth carefully down the column of his throat. He let a groan escape, settling his hands on her hips. “How does that make you feel, darlin’?”

“Hungry.” Losing some of her hesitation, she gripped him tighter in her mouth, working her teeth on his neck and the top of his shoulder. “I want to eat you up.”

“Good,” he whispered, reaching up to cup her breast. “I like you hungry, hungry for me.”

She pushed insistently against his hand, so he rolled her nipple between his fingers, lightly at first but pinching harder until she moaned her appreciation against his skin. He tested her just as she tested him, seeking how hard she needed his hands to stroke.

Squirming on his braced thighs, she bit him harder, moaning deep in her throat.
More,
more
, her body quaked, so he answered by jerking the lace of her underwear aside. Lord have mercy, she was so wet, so hot, pushing herself on his fingers. She gripped the ridge of his shoulder in her teeth, shuddered, and cried out around a mouthful of muscle.

Eyes closed, he pumped his fingers through every contraction. The thought of her teeth teasing his throat while he thrust inside her punched through his stomach. Need pulverizing his control, he panted and sweated until he could remember his name again.

Drawing back, she made a low sound of regret. Hesitantly, she reached out shaking fingers to trace the deep indentations her teeth had left in him. “Did I hurt you too much?”

Chuckling—albeit rather raggedly—he laid her flat on the couch and tugged those cherry-red panties down her legs. “My new mission in life is to make you come so hard that you draw blood. I loved it.”

He stared down at her, and he couldn’t help the rising darkness that must be blazing in his eyes. He ached to fill his palms with her breasts, to taste every secret hollow of her body, wallowing in her pleasure until she begged him to stop. “This time, darlin’, I want you to scream my name.”

Smiling wickedly, Conn leaned back over the arm to pull something out of the end table drawer. “But first—”

Scarves. Sheer and soft, white, so if he blindfolded her… At least she’d be able to see.

Her mouth went dry, heart hammering frantically.

“Give me your hands, darlin’.”

He said it quietly, gently, but the order was implicit in his body language and the heat in his eyes. Fisting her hands to hide her trembling fingers, she held out her arms.

“As soon as you want it off, give me the word. I won’t tie you to anything. I just want to see what you think of some light bondage.”

He looped the scarf around each wrist and then tied them together loosely. The ends trailed over her breasts and stomach, making her tremble.

“Rae?” He touched her cheek, his brow creased. “You’re breathing fast, darlin’. If you don’t like it, I’ll take it off.”

Was she? Yeah, her chest was heaving on shallow, frantic breaths. She wasn’t scared though, not exactly. Shaking with anticipation, perhaps. How many years had she dreamed of him doing exactly this? “It’s okay.”

“Okay?” He leaned down over her, his eyes heavy lidded and dark with desire. He tugged on the scarf, drawing her hands up over the side of the couch, pinning her against the cushioned side. “I’m not the sort of man to be satisfied with merely
okay
.”

Arching into him, she moaned. “Conn.”

“That’s better. Remember your safe word. When you’ve had enough, use it. For now, I want you to keep your hands right there, even if I’m not holding you down. Understand?”

“What if—” She took a deep breath, trying to calm her racing heart. “What if I don’t?”

He smiled slowly, his eyes gleaming. “Then I get to make you.”

He adjusted her legs, his hands firm as he positioned her exactly where he wanted: thighs spread, arms draped over the side of the chair. He even tugged her ass closer toward him. For an eternity, he didn’t touch her, but merely looked at her, caressing her breasts with his eyes until they were tight and hot, aching for his touch.

His gaze dropped from her stomach to her sex. Legs sprawled inelegantly, she felt heat creeping down her face to her chest. It took all her self control to keep from closing her legs and hiding from his intimate stare.

His voice was rough when he finally spoke. “I’ve dreamed of this for years, Rae. The only thing that could possibly make this better is if you were tied to my headboard.”

The image filled her mind, tied spread-eagled to his bed, helpless for whatever he wanted.

Her body gave a little jerk, an involuntary reflex that she couldn’t hide. When he made a low sound of approval, she was glad she hadn’t been able to control it.

Lightly, he stroked his finger around the outer edges, as softly as air. “Quote me some poetry, Miss Jackson. Any poet. Whatever you remember from my class.”

Talk about pressure. Her mind went as blank as a clean chalkboard. How could she think with him looking and touching her like this?

Leaning down, he slid a finger inside slowly, drawing ragged moans from her lips. He looked up at her, his eyes dark with desire. “If you want my mouth here, you’ll quote something.”

“Maybe I don’t want your mouth there.”

“The cream pouring out of you says otherwise, so I’ll call that bluff and raise you.” He lowered his mouth toward her breast. Hot breath moistened her nipple, but he didn’t take it in his mouth. Instead, he brushed his bristled jaws over the curve, rasping back and forth.

Sweet agony. She arched her back, aching to feel his mouth, his tongue, not those damned whiskers abrading her flesh. She started to move her hands down to grab his head and drag him close, but he growled warningly.

“Poetry, Rae.” He gave a little twist with his finger, stirring the pot of need bubbling inside her. “And keep those hands put. What was your favorite poem? I’ll help you with it.”

“‘
She walks in beauty like the night
.’”As soon as she started quoting, he opened his mouth and took her breast deep, tongue swirling. When she stopped… He did too. Desperate, she lurched into the next line.

“‘
Of cloudless climes and starry skies;/ And all that’s best of dark and
…
and
…’”

Her voice shook. Why couldn’t she remember?

He released her breast and rubbed his cheek against her stomach. “‘
Bright/ Meets in her
aspect and her eyes:/ Thus mellow’d to that tender light/ Which heaven to gaudy day denies
.’”

Sucking lightly at her stomach, he waited to see if she could remember the next line.

“‘
One shade the more, one ray the less,/ Had half impair’d the nameless grace/ Which
waves in every raven tress/ Or soft…
’ Something. I can’t remember!”

He slid off the couch to his knees on the floor, picking up her leg to kiss and lick behind her knee. He murmured the next stanza against her skin, slowly moving his way up. “‘
Or softly
lightens o’er her face;/ Where thoughts serenely sweet express/ How pure, how dear their
dwelling place.
’ This is my dwelling place, darlin’, right here between your thighs.”

When she hesitated, he nipped at her inner thigh hard enough she gasped. “You like to bite, so I thought you’d like a little payback. Was I wrong?”

She swirled her hips, her breathing coming faster. So close. If he thrust just a little harder

—

Instead, he completely removed his finger, returning to soft nibbles up the curve of her thigh to tickle his tongue in the crease. “Finish the poem, darlin’, and I’ll finish you.”

Need pounded like a jackhammer in her head, her heart thundering. “I can’t…

remember… Help. Start it.”

She felt him smile against her skin and his fingers traced the curve of her buttock. “‘
And
on that cheek
’”

“‘
And o’er that brow,/ So soft, so calm, so eloquent,/ The smiles that win
—’”

He set his mouth on her. Her hips jerked, words forgotten in the immediate surge of pleasure swelling within her. He backed off a little, lightly swirling his tongue deeper, replacing his finger.

Neck straining back over the armrest, she cried out. “Conn, I need to touch you, please…”

“Finish it and you can put your hands on me. ‘
The tints that glow,/ but tell of days in
goodness spent
,’”

“‘
A mind at peace,
’” she panted harder, twisting her hips, trying to find the release hovering just beyond her sight. Like a magical golden veil seen from the corner of her eyes, so close, so visible, but only if she held her head just so… “‘
With all below,/ a heart whose love is
innocent!’
”

“Excellent,” he whispered, humming approval against her. He flattened his tongue harder against her, his finger sliding deep, and the golden veil tore in her mind.

Quivering, she tried to catch her breath. Her hands— Good, she’d kept them where he’d told her. She started to sit up, but he growled again, raising his head.

“I’m not through with you, Rae. I didn’t hear you scream my name. I didn’t hear you beg for mercy. I certainly didn’t hear your safe word.”

His head dipped again, his tongue sliding the full length of her, dragging through every sensitive inch.

Legs trembling, she gripped her hands together so hard her fingernails dug into her palms. Shit, she’d been lucky to climax once per session with Richard. How many times had Conn made her come today already? “You can’t honestly expect me to come again.”

“Twice isn’t near enough, darlin’.” He took another long swipe, drawing tremors through her so deep even the arches in her feet hurt. “You taste too good for me to stop now. This is where you learn the truth about what I want. Have you figured it out yet?”