Fortune (12 page)

When she got to the door she thought was his, she knocked softly. If this wasn’t his house, she hoped no one answered with a gun. After another moment, she screwed up her courage and rang the bell. She had to be crazy. What was she doing here? She took a deep breath, a couple seconds away from aborting her mission, when the lock turned. The door swung open and he stood looking out at her through the storm door, rubbing his tousled hair. He was shirtless, in jersey gympants that rode low on his hips, drawing her eyes there. She quickly looked back up at his face, blushing.

He opened the door to let her into the foyer. “Kat. Are you okay? What are you doing here?”

It suddenly occurred to her that he had most certainly been sleeping. He probably had work early in the morning. God, he was probably going to screw up and kill someone on the operating table, all because she’d decided she had to see him tonight.

“I’m sorry I woke you.”

“I wasn’t sleeping. Answer my question. What are you doing here?” He looked over her shoulder, outside. “Did you walk?”

“I walked from Club Bronze. It wasn’t far.”

He made a face, a quiet sound of frustration. “And now here you are. It’s one in the morning. I called you several times today to see if you wanted to come over.”

“I…I didn’t answer.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry. You have to understand…understand—”

“You need to understand this, Ekaterina,” he said, cutting her off in a curt, impatient voice. “If I let you in here, you’re not just going to take what you want and skip on home.”

“Take what I want? I don’t… I don’t even know what you’re talking about.”

His jaw tightened. He reached behind her and opened the storm door. “Out.”

“Please…” She bit her lip, at a loss for words. She needed him, needed his help, but he was too annoyed to give it to her. She looked up at him in the semidarkness, at his nearly black eyes, his pursed, impatient lips. She felt guilty, desperate to mollify his irritated mood. “Please let me stay, Ryan. Please…I…I need you.”

“Why?” he asked sharply. “Why do you need me?”

“Because. Because…” She knew she had to come up with something plausible, something believable. “Because…” She put her hand over her heart, thought of her papa. “Because I feel something here. And it really hurts. Can you help me? You’re a doctor.”

His expression softened. He might have even chuckled softly under his breath. “Cardiac is not my field, Kat.” He put his hand on her waist, just a tentative brush of fingertips, but it held her immobile. He gazed at her, hard intention and seriousness again. “If I let you in, you’re spending the night with me. You’re sleeping in my bed until morning.”

“I’ll spend the whole week. I’ll spend the whole month in your bed if you want. Just please—”

Her voice cut off on a quaver as his arms came around her. He bent his head to her, nuzzled her neck, ran insistent fingers into her hair and tugged a little, tilting her head back. His lips settled over hers and she went loose and shivery in his arms. All the loneliness and confusion, all the numbness went away. He was warm and solid, clasping her close. He smelled fresh and clean, just-showered, not smoky and brittle like her. “I’m sorry,” she said, and “I missed you.” She breathed the words against his lips when he let her come up for air. He didn’t reply, only kissed her again, pressing against her so she felt the solid outline of his cock against her front.

“It’s late,” she whispered then.

“Never too late,” he whispered back, leading her toward his room.

She felt a strange peace, a warm fuzziness as he pulled her down the hall behind him. She felt it in her chest and in her pelvis. She loved the way his hand clasped hers so tightly. She gazed up at his broad back and straight shoulders as she followed him, stared at the movement of his hips. A faint light issued from his room and again she felt guilt that she had awakened him.

But as she slipped behind him into the bedroom, she saw he hadn’t been sleeping at all. His bed was covered in a mess of glossy multicolored paper squares and already folded cranes. There were piles of them, perhaps a hundred or more. He looked sheepish for a moment, the corner of his lip drawn up in a self-deprecating smile. “I make them sometimes when I’m anxious. Frustrated.” He moved to the bed and swept them to the floor in a careless movement that startled her.

“Oh, Ryan. They’ll break. They’ll get crushed down there.”

He spun to her. His dark eyes blinked, once, twice. “They’re only paper. Isn’t that what you said once? You’re more important right now. Come here.”

She went to him, feeling mournful about the swiped-away, scattered figures. “What are you so anxious about?” She thought of the stressful work he did, complicated surgeries and consultations.

“You,” he growled. He kissed her again, harder, deeper, his fingers fumbling with the zipper at the back of her dress. She sensed anger in his touch and wondered why it didn’t scare her. Perhaps it wasn’t anger, only need. She knew she needed him. She helped him pull off her tights with trembling fingers, let him unhook her bra and toss it behind her. She had on skimpy panties—she heard the seam rip as he shoved his hand down the waistband and grabbed her ass, cupping and squeezing it with rough urgency. It was still sore from… Was it just last night he’d spanked her? With a soft grunt, he tore off the filmy panties, tossing them somewhere over by her bra. He slapped her ass hard and she cried out, more from arousal than the sting. He slapped her again and she pressed closer to him, grasped at him, whining into the hollow of his neck. He nudged her head back and kissed her with voracious, focused intent even as he slapped her ass a third time. She moaned into his mouth as dull throbbing heat spread across her ass cheeks and down to the center between her legs. She wanted to cry out
Fuck me! Take me!
But she knew instinctively that he would not appreciate orders from her, especially not in his current mood.

He drew away from her with another low sound of pent-up frustration. “Go. Go lie on the bed. On your back. Arms over your head.”

His words barely registered and yet her body moved to do just as he asked. No, not asked.
Required.
He kicked off his sweatpants and looked back at her watching him. She was afraid of what he might do to her, but she couldn’t have left for anything. He opened a drawer and rooted around in the low light, producing a pair of thick leather cuffs. He strode back to the bed and she stared at the sight of him. He was all force and strength, his abs contracting, his arms poised at his side, arms Kat believed could hold up the earth if they had to. He crawled onto the bed, knelt beside her and pulled her hands up hard above her so she felt manhandled. He buckled the cuffs on with a quickness and ease born of experience and hooked them behind one of the spindles on the headboard of his bed.

“Oh,” she sighed.

He looked down at her. “Oh, what? Too tight? Do they feel okay?”

“I think I’m going to die.” Silly words. But honestly, how else to describe it? Her pussy felt alive with need, aching for him. Her whole body pulsed. She pulled at the restraints as he watched her, then turned her hips to one side in a defensive—or perhaps desperate—movement. He reached down, his eyes black in the soft light, and thrust two fingers roughly up inside her. She was so wet, so wet. What must he think? He smiled down at her, a knowing grin.

“I’ve half a mind to leave you this way. This is fun to watch. And I think you deserve it.”

Her breath caught in her throat. He couldn’t be so cruel. “Please!”

“You and your never-ending ‘pleases’. All they mean is give me what I want.”

“No. I mean, yes. I want you. But please… Sir…what do you want? I’ll give you anything.”

He laughed and knelt over her, straddling her. He brought his fingers to her mouth, soaked with her feminine essence. “Anything? Suck,” he said softly. “Suck my fingers clean, then suck my cock.”

She tasted herself, her own arousal and need on his broad fingers. He leaned forward and guided his cock to her mouth, leaning over her so she was trapped, impaled. He felt so thick, so hard between her lips. She licked around the velvety tip, exploring the rigid contours. When he moved deeper into her, her mouth was wet and ready. She realized she had salivated for him, eager to take his length.

“Open your eyes.”

She looked up, opened her eyes and peered up at the man who subdued her, who was staring down at her while he eased his cock in and out of her mouth. He looked feral for a moment. Terrifying. Her hands moved in the rough cuffs, made fists and twisted in a small panic. Then he whispered, “Good girl.”

He withdrew from her slowly. Her mouth still waited, open, feeling empty. He leaned down and kissed her hard, his tongue now pressing into her mouth. He licked her lips, groaned softly against her as her hips rose up to contact his cock wedged between them. With a stifled curse he tore himself away and lunged for the bedside drawer. He ripped open the condom and rolled on the latex barrier, then shoved her legs apart, wide, wider, until she squeaked. He slapped her between the legs, on the inside of each thigh. It was pain, but desperate, abject pleasure. She needed to be filled by him. The emptiness inside her was at its peak. The sensation, the slaps, the pinches, the strokes had built to an unbearable, insupportable tension.

“Please,” she whispered.
Please, a million times.

He pulled her knees up, spreading her wider, pulling her down against her bonds. He sat back on his heels so his cock jutted up between them, nestled at her entrance. He looked down at her then, a predator going for the kill. She wanted to look away it was so frightening, but she didn’t dare. He dropped his hips and squeezed her thighs and thrust inside her, his size a pressing, invading ache. She burst into tears, not from pain or fear, but relief. She was going to come in seconds, mere moments. She looked up at him, frantic, and he nodded down at her. “Go,” he said. “Go on. I’ve got you.”

She came apart. She shattered, she shimmered. She convulsed and lost herself in an orgasm that turned her upside down. He just watched her with a faint victorious smile, amused affection. Then he fell over her, pumped in her hard so her cuffs rattled against the headboard. His knees drove into the bed between her legs. The rough hair on his chest chafed her and his hands gripped her arms, holding her down, down, down, hard and fast. He overpowered her completely. When he came, shuddering, he crushed her so she could barely breathe. She lay still beneath him, feeling peace at last.

He was still a little in shock. When she hadn’t answered his calls, he’d tried to write her off, cut her out of his heart. Part of him thought that was the better thing to do. But then seeing her there at the door, hearing her plead with him to let her stay… His resolve crumbled, vanquished by her lush needful body. Now he held her close, tucking her head in the crook of his shoulder. Her soft dark curls tickled his chest and her skin was impossibly velvety and soft against his. He ran his fingertips over her, from perfectly formed breasts to delicate waist and hips, to smooth thighs.

They started to talk after a while, quiet negotiating. What they discussed was important but his mind was elsewhere. Between her legs. Wrapped around her fingers. Sliding over her hips.

“The thing is,” she said in a soft voice, “I won’t always want to call you Sir.”

He looked back at her, trying to concentrate over the sensory shock of having her so near, so sweet and pliable next to him. He ran a finger down her jaw, stroked her chin. He kissed her softly and framed a tentative answer. “Of course you won’t.”

“But I don’t know if…if you only like me as a submissive.”

“I like you as Kat. What about you? Do you only like me as a Dominant?”

“No. That’s only part of it.” She drew her fingertips through the hair on his chest, a casual gesture that made his jaw tense. Her caresses were a rousing pleasure he felt in his balls and his cock. He leaned down to kiss her again, a messy wet kiss, his groin tightening—his constant response to her. He fed on her rare sweetness and openness. When they drew apart he rested his hand on one of her lovely ass cheeks and looked down at her thoughtfully.

“Did you mean what you said about sleeping here for a month?”

She looked taken aback. Her eyes blinked once, twice. “I could… I… Are you… Would you want me to?”

“Yes.”

She coughed softly, her fingertips stopping on his chest to curl into a fist. He expected her to push away from him but she didn’t. “Why would you want that?” she asked.

He chuckled. “Don’t you?” His hand roved down the satin curve of her hip to the juncture of her thighs, to the slick treasure there. She tensed and buried her head in his neck as he teased her clit. Her hips pressed closer to him and his cock throbbed in reaction, jabbing against her. He reached for a condom. She didn’t protest, didn’t draw away as he sheathed himself and moved over her. He entered her in a slow, liquid movement, holding her still with a hand on each hip. The pleasure was thick and heavy along his shaft, like a lazy humid afternoon when you didn’t want to move. He stayed still in her, feeling her closeness, smelling her female scent. She moved her hips, just a twitch, but he shook his head and tsked at her.

“Be still a minute, doll. I’m not done talking with you.”

She looked up at him, her eyes hazy with pleasure now. “I’m finding it harder to concentrate,” she whispered. He pinched her nipple hard, then harder. The haziness in her eyes dissipated. She jerked as the pain registered and still he pinched her harder until she sobbed, soft and quick. She put her hand on his but he didn’t let go. “This is why you want me here. Sex,” she said with mild accusation. “You want to fuck me whenever you want.”