Authors: Lisa Renee Jones
Tags: #Contemporary Women, #Contemporary, #Fiction, #Romance, #Suspense, #General
I straighten, my spine stiff with a jolt that tells me my past is here, in vivid living color. This is too fast, too much. “I don’t want to be tied up.”
His fingers caress my cheek. “Relax,” he says gently. “I’m not going to tie you up. I want to blindfold you. That’s all.”
I wet my suddenly parched lips. “Blindfold,” I repeat.
“Yes. That way, you can stop anything I do with more than words. You have the control. I have the pleasure of ensuring your pleasure.
“This is where you say yes or no,” he says, and then firms his voice, a command in the depths as he adds, “Say yes.”
“What are you going to do to me?”
His sexy, sometimes brutally wicked lips, curve. “If I told you, I’d ruin the surprise. Say yes, Crystal.” The command is firmer this time.
That intense arousal and fear have returned, drenched in adrenaline. This is how it feels facing fears that I haven’t allowed myself to acknowledge. And I want to face them. I shut my eyes. “Yes.”
“Look at me when you say it, so I know you mean it.”
I’m comforted that a simple “yes” isn’t enough to satisfy his need for my agreement. My eyes meet his and I repeat, “Yes.”
He searches my face for a moment, and then wraps the tie around my eyes, covering them. Then his lips find my ear. “Stay and don’t move. Just listen. It’s a remarkable way to awaken your senses. And don’t speak unless I tell you to speak. Understand?”
“Yes.”
“Yes, what?”
“Yes, I understand.”
I wait for him to speak again, but he doesn’t. It’s almost as if he waits to see if I truly
do
understand. My fingers curl into the blanket and I can feel his hot stare on my body as intimately as I would his mouth. There is something intriguing about knowing and not seeing. Something arousing about craving and not being satisfied. There is movement; sounds of what I think is the rustle of clothing. Of this wickedly hot man undressing, and I squeeze my thighs shut against the growing ache I feel. Silence falls then, and time ticks by eternally and I open my mouth and shut it. It’s a test, I think, but the question it raises is confusing. By passing it, am I proving I’m in control of me or that he’s in control of me?
“Stand up,” he says.
Suddenly, the answer to my question doesn’t matter as much as relief to my body. I do as he says.
“Take three steps forward.”
I do it and stop, and I can feel his body heat. Then there’s a shift in the air, and I think . . . I think he’s circling me. No. He’s behind me. Suddenly his hands are on my waist, as if he feels like I might dart away.
“Say my name.”
“Mark.”
“Again.”
“Mark,” I repeat.
“Mr. Compton,” he commands.
“No.”
“Say it.”
The command is sharp, and so is my reply. “No,” I hiss.
“Do you want me to fuck you?”
“Yes, Mark, I do.”
He pulls me against him, my back to his chest, his hands covering my breasts, fingers teasing my nipples. “Say my name.”
“Mark.”
“Stubborn woman,” he growls, and tugs on my nipples.
“Ahhh.” I moan at the force of the tugs. “Ahhh. It . . . hurts.” He rolls them, tugging again, and the pain begins to turn to pleasure. My lashes lower and I feel my body melting into his. At the same moment, his fingers slip between my thighs, into the slick heat there, and I almost come from the touch.
“You’re wet, Ms. Smith,” he murmurs. “So very wet. I think you really do want to fuck. Or maybe you just want to come.”
“Yes. Please.”
“Say my name.” His fingers slip away from my sex, while the other hand glides from my breast to settle on my waist.
Frustration rolls inside me and I whirl on him, ripping away the tie from my eyes as I all but yell, “Mr. Compton.”
He laughs and pulls me to him, the thick ridge of his erection against my hip. “Very good, Ms. Smith. That’s how you answer every command I give you while we’re fucking tonight. That way, every time you say ‘Mr. Compton’ to me tomorrow at work, you’re going to think about my fingers between your legs and on your nipples—and so am I.”
Nine
Mark . . .
I watch the understanding fill Crystal’s light blue eyes, feel the softening of her body against mine a moment before she whispers, “Oh. Yes . . . we will.”
“And I plan to give you even more to remember, before this night is over.”
Her gaze drops to the thickness of my erection. She wets her lips and my shaft jerks with the impact of the seductive lick, and the many places she is taking my imagination. I guide her fingers and wrap them around the base. While I normally prefer not being touched, since that allows me control, I already crossed that boundary with Crystal in the past—and I crave her hands and mouth all over me, everywhere. Anywhere.
My grip tightens and her gaze lifts, her eyes laden with desire, those lush, beautiful lips that I’ve just fantasized about angled toward me. In a blink, hunger consumes me.
She
consumes me, and I can’t remember why I thought that was a problem before. I don’t want to remember. I just want her.
Twining the fingers of my free hand into the long, silky strands of her hair, I drag her mouth a breath from mine. “What are you doing to me, woman?” And then I claim her mouth.
My tongue strokes against hers, caressing, taking, drinking in the warm, sweet taste of her. She is one part willing woman, two parts challenge. I know I’ll never fully control her, and the very thing that would have made her wrong for me in the past is the very thing that makes her what I want and need now. She is freedom. She is passion. She is the safe place where I can be the man I’ve tried to deny beneath the Master persona, and failed. It’s why I failed Rebecca; it’s how I turned emotion into dangerous games. I had no idea how much I needed the freedom to simply be me.
Crystal’s fingers tighten on my cock, and it’s nearly my undoing. Tearing my mouth from hers, I promise, “I have a never-ending list of the wicked things I’m going to do to you, but right now, I just need to be inside you. Stand with your back to the footboard and your hands on top of it.”
Her swollen, deliciously kissed lips curve as she replies, “Yes, Mr. Compton.” It’s not the way a submissive would say the words. It’s a challenge, and even more, it’s a promise that she plans to use those words to taunt me in the future.
My blood thickens with the sultry words she’s turned on me, and I watch her walk to the bed, her beautiful ass a portrait finer than any of my many masterpieces. She turns to face me, her eyes colliding with mine as she presses her hands behind her onto the footboard. Her breasts are thrust high in the air, the nipples puckered in tight little balls. She’s all about challenge and seduction—and though she doesn’t know it yet, she’s going to pay for taunting me, and I’m going to enjoy every second of it.
I reach for my pants and remove my wallet, retrieving the one condom there. Sex hadn’t been on my agenda tonight; my apology had. I roll the condom over the thick pulse of my shaft, then in two long strides, I’m in front of Crystal. My hand settles on her tiny waist with intentional possession. I meant what I said when I told her I wanted to own her, and not just her body.
My other hand goes beside hers on the footboard, and I lean into her, binding her without a device, my chest hair cradling the stiff peaks of her nipples. An easy shift of my body, and I settle my cock between her thighs, denying us both by avoiding that sweet, warm spot in the V of her body. A Master worth his salt knows how to build tension and work the passion to explosive, absolute pleasure.
“Do you really think you can taunt me and get away with it?” I demand, my voice soft but lethal.
Her chin lifts, defiance in the depths of her eyes. “Who said I wanted to get away with it?”
“So you
wanted
me to make you pay?”
“I just wanted you to hurry up and fuck me. It didn’t work. You still aren’t fucking me.”
I press my other hand to the footboard, trapping her with my body, my cheek pressed to hers. “Consider this a warning,” I say, inhaling her sweet, floral scent. “There’s a price for taunting me. A punishment.”
“What do you mean, punishment?”
“I have a very creative imagination. Nipple clamping, flogging, or just a good spanking.”
“No,” she whispers, panic in her voice as she jerks her upper body, unable to move away. “No, I won’t—”
“But I will,” I promise. “And you’ll want me to, I promise—or I won’t do it.”
“Can’t we just—”
“No. We can’t
just
.” I dip my fingers into the dripping wet heat of her sex. “Your body says you like the idea of me punishing you.”
“Your hard cock is between my legs. Of course I’m aroused.”
“Me punishing you
is
me arousing you.” I dip two fingers inside her.
She moans, her lashes fluttering. “No.”
I pull out of her, moving my hand to her hip. “No?”
“I mean yes. Or—” I arch a brow and she lets out a rush of air. “I don’t want you to spank me, flog me, or whatever else you dream up. So please just fuck me already,
Mr. Compton.
”
I slide my hand up her back and arch her into me. “There’s no such thing as ‘just’ fucking.” My lips caress hers. “Not with me. Not with you.”
“I think you might want too much,” she says, sounding breathless.
“Not too much. Just what I said before: more than you thought you had to give. But you can. You will.” I press my cock to the lips of her sex, then drive deep into her, my hands cupping her backside. “But one day, you’ll know my hand on your gorgeous ass and you’ll wish you’d known it sooner.” I thrust into her hard and fast, one time, two—
“My arms,” she pleads. “Mark, I’m can’t hold myself—”
I wrap an arm around her, anchoring her. “Let go,” I order.
“No. I’ll fall.”
Her words blast me with a dark emotion that aches and burns in my chest and belly. I don’t just want this woman’s trust. I want to
deserve
it. “You won’t fall,” I promise, my words rough, vehement. “I won’t let you.”
She blinks up at me, her expression softening as she whispers, “I believe you.” She lifts her arms, wrapping them around my neck before repeating, “I believe you.”
Her promise eases that ache inside me, delivering a sense of purpose and rightness that I haven’t felt in too long to remember. I slant my mouth over hers, kissing her, claiming her, taking every drop of the passion I feel in her and demanding more. And she gives it to me, meeting every lick, every touch with one of her own.
Lifting her, I carry her to the side of the bed, laying her on her back and coming down on top of her, drowning in the collision of our eyes. The connection I feel, which I didn’t know I
could
feel after all of these years, shakes me to the core. And in this moment, I admit what I’ve only suspected before. I have been lost, and in some way, this woman has found me.
I kiss her, tasting her in a way I have never let myself taste, rocking into her body, her soft moans and the way she arches into me thickening my cock. I feel every thrust up and down my spine, every touch of her hands in every part of me, in ways I’m not sure I’ve ever allowed myself to experience. She touches me eagerly, without restraint, and it drives me over the edge. I drive into her, wild with need. Burying my face in her neck, I pump against her as she arches upward, meeting every thrust of my hips with her own. There is only this frenzied need between us . . . until her fingers dig into my shoulders, and she stiffens. Her body spasms around my cock and I am one part relief, one part regret as she drags me with her, and my release is on me, shaking me with the impact, as she shudders beneath me.
Finally, we collapse into sated exhaustion, me on top of her, not wanting to let her go. It’s as if there’s a floor beneath me with a gaping hole, and a cyclone pulling me through to the other side, and she is the calmness that keeps me from falling through.
Finally I lift up on my arms, and my eyes meet Crystal’s.
“Mmmm . . . hi,” she says.
I laugh. God, when’s the last time I laughed while I was inside a woman? Never. “Hi?” I ask in disbelief. “What kind of—”
“My kind,” she says, smiling. “If you’re getting up to throw out the condom, go and come back. I’m not letting a Master off with one orgasm.”
“I’m not letting a submissive—”
“But I’m not your submissive. Now go, before you get punished,” she teases.
I pull out of her, feeling the moment like a shock wave, and the way she bites her bottom lip tells me she’s feeling it, too. I am in so much trouble, yet I can’t seem to care. Tearing my gaze from hers, I walk into the bathroom and toss the condom in the toilet, intending to return to the bedroom. But when I turn, I see the tub filled with bubbles and inhale the sweet scent of the flowers that’s always on Crystal’s skin.
My mind flashes with an image of Rebecca sitting on the edge of my bathtub back home in San Francisco, spreading her favorite rose-scented lotion on her body. No. It had been
our bathtub
. She’d lived with me, though I know she never really felt she belonged there. Everything had still been about the contract. The fact that it had an end date and that I’d insisted she keep her apartment was always there between us. I wanted to take care of her, and I wanted her in my life. What I hadn’t wanted was to fall in love, and so I didn’t.
I scrub a hand over the tension in the back of my neck. I was too shut off emotionally. I thought if I didn’t love her, neither of us could get hurt.
“Damn it,” I murmur, glancing up to find Crystal standing in the doorway, a deliciously naked distraction that I need right now.
“Either you have a vibrator in your pants, or your phone is on silent and ringing,” she announces. “If it’s a vibrator, I can do that myself.” She turns and leaves me with a view of the perfect backside that I’m definitely going to spank sooner rather than later.
“A vibrator or my phone,” I repeat, and I actually smile again.
Going into the empty bedroom, I catch a glimpse of her exiting into the living room area. I assume she’s going after her robe, which, considering I don’t have another condom, is probably a damn good idea. I grab my pants off the floor, dig out my phone, and find a text from Jacob.
Headed to room for some shuteye. Kara Walker is on duty. 212-555-7789.
She must be Blake’s wife, hell-bent on stopping me from acting on my claim of vengeance. I clamp down on my anger. Though I can never right my past wrongs, I can do the right thing now. That means avenging Rebecca and making sure no one else gets hurt. As long as Ava is out there somewhere, I can’t be sure either of those two things will happen. And I won’t allow anyone to get in my way.