Fall Into You (36 page)

She tilted her head back, and he traced his tongue along the hollow of her throat.
Like a burning match to wax, her insides went warm and liquid in an instant. “God,
yes.”

He chuckled against her jaw. “I’m not the only insatiable one here. Go to your bedroom
and stand by the foot of the bed to wait for me. I want to take my time with you.”

“Yes, Grant.” There really was no other answer she could’ve given. Her body and mind
craved him like nothing she’d experienced before. She needed this. Him.

He released her and she made her way through her small living room to her bedroom.
The room was bathed in the warm glow of her bedside lamp, the scene so familiar but
yet foreign. Never before had she walked into her room and viewed it through someone
else’s eyes. The thick posts of her bed now seemed a sensual choice, sinister in the
best way possible. Her sheets—a high-thread-count gift to herself—now beckoned with
promises of downy softness against bare skin. And oh, the things Grant could do with
the small collection of vibrators she kept hidden in her panty drawer.

She left her undergarments on and faced the bed, keeping her back to the door, but
her eyes fixed on the mirror above her dresser. Her heart hammered as she listened
to Grant’s heavy footsteps make their way around her home. She had no idea what he
was doing but had no doubt he had more in store for her than a quick romp before bed.

A shadow crossed over the mirror and she sucked in a breath as Grant’s wide frame
filled her doorway. “What a pretty view.”

He stepped behind her, his body heat radiating onto her skin,
and ran a gentle hand over the curve of her ass, then traced along the crease. The
pad of his finger pressed against her back entrance through the thin fabric of her
panties. She shivered, the still-foreign sensation stoking the flames of need inside
her.

“I need to take you here, sweet Charlotte,” he said, his voice gruff. “I can’t keep
touching this beautiful ass of yours and not feel it around me.”

She wet her lips, catching her own unsure eyes in the mirror’s reflection even as
the decadent sensation of him teasing her there had a new rush of moisture slicking
her panties. She’d enjoyed the hell out of the plugs he’d used on her, but he was
so much bigger than that. There was no way it wouldn’t hurt. “I’m a little scared.”

“Mmm,” he said, taking a long, deep inhale as he continued to stroke her. It was as
if he was breathing in her fear, feasting on it.

“You like that I’m scared,” she said, more realization than accusation.

He kissed the slope of her shoulder, his teeth grazing her skin. “I could make you
feel better and say it doesn’t, but I’d be lying.”

She closed her eyes, trying to reel in her runaway nerves. He was a sadist and had
never apologized for that. Of course he didn’t mind that she was scared.

“A little fear makes your pulse go fast and your skin turn flushed.” He pulled her
panties to the side, then slid a finger along her folds, sinking deep into her pussy.
“And look how wet it makes you. I’m not the only one who gets off by the rush of adrenaline.
There’s a reason you seek out all those extreme sports and adventures. You’re made
for this, Charlotte. Your body and mind seek it.”

Her leg muscles seemed to liquefy as he worked another finger inside her. She bowed
forward, her palms hitting the mattress, saving her from falling face-first into the
comforter. His words were like the sharp, quick stings of his riding crop—the accuracy
behind them exposing all her vulnerable places.

“I bet if I lit candles and played soft music while gently introducing the possibility
of anal sex to you over wine, you’d shut down. You’re not that kind of girl.”

She stiffened, the assumption—though screaming with truth in her ears—all too close
to what she’d been dealing with all her life.
You’re not like normal girls.
“So, what, I’m not worth the wining, dining, and romancing?”

His free hand came down hard on her ass, the sharp smack sending a jolt through her
veins and a cry from her lips. “Don’t do that, Charlotte. Don’t turn my words around
and use them as weapons.”

Her fingers curled into the comforter, rebellion welling up inside her.

He pulled away, removing all contact. “Before you speak, I suggest you think long
and hard about what you want. I’ll give you one chance to make a request tonight.
If that’s candles and opera music, I’ll make it happen. But whatever you request better
be what you
really
want, not what you wish you wanted.”

She stared at the tone-on-tone stripes of her comforter, her breathing rapid with
a confusing combination of anger and desire. Grant’s hard command had tempted a knee-jerk
response, but she’d bit down on her tongue to keep it in. When she pictured the gentle,
romantic evening he was offering her, it left her cold. Her other lovers had tried
that route, and it’d never affected her the way she’d hoped it would. She craved genuine
emotion with Grant, but not in that Hallmark-commercial kind of way, and definitely
not in the bedroom.

The breath filling her lungs turned hot as reality coursed through her. Even if she
wanted to be that sweet, flowers-and-hearts girl, she wasn’t wired that way. And neither
was he. She could either keep trying to convince herself she could be or accept what
was. She shifted her weight from foot to foot. What she needed—wanted—danced
on her lips, the forbidden desire they’d playfully mentioned earlier tonight hovering
in the silence between them.
Capture. Force.

How often in the last few weeks had she wondered what it would be like to see Grant
really let go? Despite everything they’d done together, she always sensed he was being
careful with her, like he was afraid to show her too much darkness. But she craved
that from him.

“Tell me what you want, Charlotte,” Grant repeated, his voice like the far-off rumble
of a thunderstorm. “And I’ll do it.”

She pushed herself upright, her resolve calming the disjointed emotions battling inside
of her. She met his stoic gaze in the mirror, her own expression reflecting the confidence
in her decision, but also the underlying trepidation inherent in it. She turned around
to face him.

“Well?”

She swallowed past the kink in her vocal cords. “I want you to
make
me do it.”

The flicker of surprise that crossed Grant’s features at Charli’s request was as quick
as a blink, but she hadn’t missed it. He unfurled his arms from their crossed position
over his chest, his fingers flexing at his sides. “Tell me your safe word, Charlotte.”

Her heart pounded so hard, she wondered if her ribs would have a permanent imprint.
“Texas.”

His eyes seemed to turn black in the soft light of the bedroom. He leaned over slowly,
his mouth brushing the shell of her ear. Then one whispered word filled her mind.
“Run.”

Her body reacted before her mind kicked in, her bare feet squeaking against the wood
floor as she juked around Grant and took off into the hallway. Her house wasn’t big,
but she had the advantage of knowing every hiding place and every room with a lock.
He gave her a few seconds’ head start, so she slammed her office door to make him
think she was hiding in there and headed to the kitchen instead. The attached laundry
room had a lock and had another door that led to the screened-in porch on the back
of the house. That could work.

She hurried past the pantry and slipped inside the alcove. She locked the laundry
room door, her fingers trembling, and pressed her back against the door to the porch.
Even though she knew this was a game, an undeniable zip of fear buzzed through her.
Grant wouldn’t harm her in any kind of serious way, but she wasn’t under the impression
he’d go easy on her either. The thought only served to make the achy pulsing between
her legs more unbearable.

She strained her ears, trying to listen for his heavy footfalls. She doubted the man
could walk softly even if he tried. There was a distant squeak—probably the office
door opening. He’d probably try the laundry room any second. She looked around for
anything to use to distract him, but all that was in there was a basket full of unfolded
laundry. She grabbed a T-shirt and a pair of running shorts off the top and slipped
them on. He’d never expect her to go outside since she’d been half-naked, but this
could give her the element of surprise.

She reached behind her and turned the knob on the door to the porch, keeping her eyes
on the other door and doing her best to not make a peep. When the knob gave, she backed
onto the porch, never taking her focus off the kitchen door. One, two, three steps
and she’d be to the screen door that led to the backyard. She spun on her heel, ready
to bolt, and slammed smack into the hard wall of Grant’s chest.

Before the scream could even exit her throat, Grant turned her, clamping a hand over
her mouth. The noise came out a pitiful, muffled sound.

“Going somewhere?” he said, his breath hot against her neck.

Not ready to lose so easily, she jammed her elbow into his ribs and tried to wriggle
free. But he was too damn strong for her to even get an inch of space between them.
He gripped her harder.

“Now you’re just pissing me off, princess.” He dragged her back into the laundry room
and kicked the door shut behind him. “If you play nice, I won’t have to get rough.”

She grabbed for the hand he had locked over her mouth and dug her fingernail into
his cuticle—a self-defense move her brother had taught her.

“Son of a bitch!”

His hand dropped, and the moment’s distraction let her slip free. She vaulted back
through the door to the kitchen, an angry cowboy hot on her heels. When she took the
turn into the living room, she thought she had enough of a lead to make it back to
the bedroom, but before she hit the hallway, he grabbed hold of her shirt and yanked
her backward. He caught her before she landed on her ass, but soon she was on the
floor anyway. He pinned her down on the rug, belly down, knee against her back.

“I should’ve known you wouldn’t be cooperative.” He yanked her shorts and panties
off in one rough tug, then tore her T-shirt, a long rip down the back.

The sound of the tearing and his handling of her had every sensory system in her body
firing. Her mind tumbled into that place where thoughts went quiet and sensation took
over. She struggled beneath him. “Please, please don’t do this. You can take whatever
you want from the house.”

His dark chuckle was almost unrecognizable as he unhooked her bra. “You think I’m
in here for a fucking TV, princess?”

“I have money in my closet,” she said on a whimper.

“I don’t need your money.” Something wound around one of her wrists, then he was shoving
her knee under her, and the same scratchy material wrapped around her thigh—rope.
“What I need is this tight, virgin ass of yours.”

A hard tremor moved through her. She tried to move, but her wrist and thigh were now
anchored to each other. He gave her the same treatment on the other side until she
was left with her ass in the air, knees spread wide, and the side of her face pressed
into the rug.

Breath rasped through her lungs as she fell into the moment, surrendering to him,
her desire for him swallowing any lingering
fear. Her clit throbbed from neglect, the soft rug caressing her nipples and only
ratcheting up her desperation further. “Please.”

He stood, his shoes coming into her peripheral vision. “Why do I get the feeling you’re
no longer begging for mercy but begging for me to fuck you?”

“Because I am. Please.”

He crouched down and wrapped a hank of her hair around his fist, lifting her head
ever so slightly. “You know how hot it makes me to hear you beg so nicely? I may even
let you enjoy it now.”

He released her hair and stood. The sound of his belt buckle raised goose bumps on
her sweat-slicked skin. She peeked upward to find him peering down at her as he doubled
the belt over and tucked the metal part in his hand. He smiled a smile that could
simultaneously melt her insides and break her open, then he stepped out of view.