Hidden Heart (Windy City #1) (3 page)

He shook his head. “Not hurt. Punish. It’s different.”

“Punish how?” She heard herself asking. Everything suddenly seemed foggy to her. She could hear them talking, recognized her own voice, but she felt outside herself. Yet, something sparked in her, something that felt real and tangible, and she couldn’t place how.

“Well, that’s different for everyone. Some spank, some take away privileges.”

“Spank? As in hit?” She threw at him.

“No. As in spank,” he clarified with a bit of force. “Why don’t we sit in the living room?” He held out his hand to her.

She ignored his offering and headed toward the other room. Sitting in the large armchair, she faced the windows, and he sat on the couch facing her.

“What about you?” She wished her voice would pick up volume and force.

“It would depend on the offence.” He leaned back on the couch.

“I don’t understand. I mean, I think I do. I mean, I’m not completely ignorant, it’s just… I’ve never met anyone that does that.”

“Jessica, I didn’t say I would punish you. I won’t, not until you agree to that sort of relationship. I said that I would want to.”

“How?” She turned her expression to him with a tilt of her head, as though his next answer held more weight than most of what he’d said up to that point.

“Well, for this instance, lying, I’d probably give you a spanking. Nothing too serious but enough to make you understand that honesty is extremely important to our relationship.”

She rubbed her palms over her knees in quiet reflection. “Honesty.” She spoke softly. “I didn’t lie about something huge. I lied about why I waited outside. There’s no meaning there.” Finding her courage again, her voice firmed.

“True, but a lie is a lie. With me, there is no hiding truth. Everything is done for a reason. You not wanting me to go to your apartment would be understandable, but lying about it made it more than what it was. It makes it look like you’re ashamed of your own feelings.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Your feelings do matter.” He pointed out.

“Do you think that woman punishes him when he deserves it?” she asked.

“Probably not.” He raised his eyebrows. “It looked like the control went one way there. Same with me. I won’t be punished or controlled. I hold the reins.” His eyes held a firmness in them that shot a tingle up her spine.

“Well then, we’d have a problem…if this wasn’t just a friendly dinner.” Her sarcasm was back. “I don’t like being controlled. I like to be in control.”

He looked at her as though he weren’t convinced.

“Stand up.” He motioned with his hands.

She regarded him for a moment then decided to stand. She would be leaving in a few minutes anyway.

He also got to his feet and stepped toward her until the toes of his shoes touched the tip of hers.

“You obeyed at dinner when I asked you to pour the wine, told you where to sit and to bring your dish into the kitchen. You did all of these things, and it didn’t diminish you in one bit.” His voice wrapped around her like silk as he used the back of his forefinger to stroke her cheek.

She told herself to move. She disobeyed. “I didn’t know I was obeying commands,” she whispered.

He pulled her chin up with his finger to look into her eyes. “I wasn’t being an ass and barking out orders. I don’t do that,” he answered, running his finger over her dry lips. She could smell the lemon from dinner on them.

“I’m no good at being obedient,” she warned him. “I don’t trust guys,” she pointed out, and he smiled down at her.

“Well, that’s something to work on.” He brought his lips down on hers. He didn’t crush her in the way she was afraid he would, instead he laid soft pressure onto her lips. She could feel the warmth of his touch rising from the toes of her feet to the tip of her head. He was gentle in his caresses. He wrapped his fingers around the nape of her neck and stroked her. She felt herself lean into him as he intensified the embrace.

Her hands found themselves around his waist. She heard a muffled moan…was it her or him? She didn’t care. He pulled away and she opened her eyes, her lips still parted and feeling a bit swollen. She straightened herself.

“Take off your shoes.” He stepped back so she could obey his instruction.

Her heart picked up speed as she found herself obeying him with little resistance. Unsure if the cause of her arousal was the lingering sensations from his kiss or the dominance that dripped from his voice as he gave his commands, she kicked out of her shoes.

“Now remove your sweater.” He sat on the arm of the couch.

She swallowed hard, then fumbled with the little buttons of the black, cotton sweater. She stood before him in black capris and a white tank top.

“Are you wearing a bra?” His gaze settled on her breasts.

“No,” she answered. The alarm sounded in her brain, but the tingling in her senses won out. His eyes felt like caressing touches as he looked at her. His authoritative tone lit a flame in her belly that she couldn’t explain.

“Good. Remove your shirt.” He crossed his arms over his chest, as though to show her he had no intention of touching her. “Now, Jessica.” The firmness of his voice echoed in the room.

She played with the hem of her shirt, watching him and trying to make sense of what she was doing. She couldn’t seem to stop herself, and his looks were bringing more heat to her soul than the touch of any of her past lovers. Her tank top slipped up past her breasts and over her head. She held the top in front of her, to hide from him.

He shook his head, and she dropped it to the floor.

“Hands at your sides, please.”

She felt as though he were drinking her through a straw. His eyes landed on her breasts, and she waited for the disappointment. No one ever dated her for her boobs. Her breasts would barely fill his large palms. The chill in the room brought her nipples to stand erect, and she wanted to cover herself from his judgment.

“Your pants.” He nodded.

“If I say no?” she asked with worry in her voice.

“Then we stop. But I don’t think you want to stop.” The dimple peeked out at her.

She unbuttoned her capris and slid them over her rounded hips. She dropped them to her ankles and kicked them aside. Before he was able to command it, she hooked her thumbs into the strips of fabric of her thong and pulled it down as well.

“Ah, that’s a good girl,” he whispered, and she felt a fluttering of sensuality at the sound of his pleasure.

She fought the urge to cover herself and kept her head down, not trusting herself to look at his face.

She heard the couch give way as he stood. Then she felt his hands on her shoulders. His warm touch slid down her arms and back up, erasing the goose pimples the chill had brought. She realized he was at least an entire head taller than her. He seemed huge to her in this capacity, yet she felt no fear. She felt…safe.

“You don’t like your breasts.”

She wasn’t sure how to take his mind reading skills, but she let it go from her mind as his hands cupped her breasts. She sucked in a breath as he began to knead them and run his thumb over her nipples.

“I think they are beautiful.” He stepped back to lean down and took her right nipple into his mouth.

The wetness of his tongue, the warmth of his mouth, and the light scraping of his teeth quickened her pulse. She opened her mouth to say something…to protest? But snapped it shut when she felt the pressure he applied on the opposite breast with his fingers. He pulled away and looked up at her.

“Pleasure and pain,” he explained.

She nodded, unable to find her tongue.

He slid down to his knees before her and tapped her legs until she spread them apart for him. “Shaved.” He smiled with approval up at her.

She was sure she would explode if he touched her.

He dipped his middle finger between her lips and brought the moist finger to his mouth. She watched him as her breathing quickened.

“You are extremely wet.” He placed the finger in his mouth with another grin. Then he stood quickly and grabbed her hand, leading her down a short hall to a bedroom.

“Take off my shirt,” he ordered, standing before her.

She licked her bottom lip and then worked his shirt over his chest and head, feeling the hardened muscles of his stomach as she did so.

“Now my pants.”

Three words that might not evoke a reaction in anyone else brought a quiver to her fingers. She could feel his eyes on her, seeping into her. It was more than arousal that drove her actions; it was a need that demanded to be met. His, as well as hers. The very idea of considering his needs tied to her own made her apprehensive. She’d decided long ago to look out for herself, and only herself. Mingling her own desires with another’s was risky.

She took a deep breath and undid the button of his jeans. Knowing where everything would lead, she decided to grab his boxers and his jeans as she pulled them down, springing his dick free of the confinement.

He grabbed her wrists and held them together as he kicked his clothing way. “I didn’t tell you to take off my boxers,” he chastised her.

She looked up at him and swallowed, as he pulled her hands over her head so she was stretched upward. She didn’t fight him; fear didn’t play a part in her emotions. His authority softened her sharp edges, allowing her to quiet her raging thoughts.

He spun her away from him and with his free hand gave her two hard swats to her bare backside. She yelped from surprise but didn’t find the act to be too painful. He spun her back around to him and kissed her hard, letting go of her hands she wrapped them around him again.

“Do as you’re told. I control what happens here.” His raspy voice whispered into her ear, and he slowly pushed her onto the bed.

She scooted back, and he knelt between her thighs.

“You are so damn beautiful. I don’t see how you don’t see it…but that’s for another day.” He sounded out of breath.

She rested her hands at her sides, unsure of where to put them. He leaned down and kissed her again, pulling her senses every which way. His hands were everywhere. He pulled at her breasts and before she could react, he was feeling her softness. She felt his finger invade her, and she arched her hips toward him. He chuckled into her neck as he continued to kiss her.

He rolled her clit between his fingers, driving her mad. She hadn’t had another person touching her in such ways in a very long time. She felt as though she would lose her mind before he finished with her.

He locked eyes with her, watching her writhe beneath him in pleasure. He rubbed her a bit harder. “You are close.” The corner of his mouth twisted upward in a sultry smirk, as his fingers became torture instruments. His strokes on her clit lightened then intensified until she looked at him ready to kill.

“This time you may come when you are ready. In the future, I may not be so kind.” His voice held a promise of wonders she couldn’t grasp, while he stroked her in such a way.

He left her for a moment to open a drawer of his nightstand, and she watched with a craving building in her belly as he unrolled a rubber over his thick, long cock.

He knelt between her thighs, and with her expressed approval, he drove into her. She cried out as he withdrew and drove inward again. Her hips arched to meet each of his thrusts. He kissed her hard as they continued to move in unison.

Pulling at his shoulders, she dug her nails into his muscles as she met his thrusts with her own. An urgency took over her like nothing she’d felt before. She wanted all of him. His hands were everywhere, stroking every sensitive inch of her.

His fingers found their way to her mound again, and with a sliver of his touch, she found her release. He captured her scream with his mouth as she bucked up at him and then slowly fell downward to the bed once more.

Wide dark eyes stared down at her. She licked and scraped her teeth over her bottom lip, trying to undo him. His thrusts buried deeper and faster. His eyes darkened; his jaw clenched as his orgasm took him over. She watched with fast breaths and tried to regain her senses.

He kissed her again before rolling away to grab a towel from his nightstand. Then he cleaned between her legs. His touch was gentle, taking great care with her sensitive areas.

He threw her a wink before he headed back to the bathroom. No lover in her past had been so concerned afterwards. The most caring of the bunch had merely tossed a towel to her as he’d headed to the bathroom for his own cleanup.

Once he was in the bathroom, she sat on the edge of the bed and shook her head. A quick look at the digital clock on the nightstand told her it was only nine o’clock. The sound of the water running drew her attention to the bathroom door.

How could he look at her again after this? How could she look at herself after this? He had spanked her. She’d let him. She hadn’t even hated it.

The two quick slaps to her backside weren’t strong enough to hurt, but had been firm enough to rise a few unknown sensations in her. She’d quickly become aroused, and she wanted more of him. His confidence wasn’t just something she found positive about his persona, but rather something she drew strength from.