Restrained and Willing (4 page)

“Did I give you permission to play with
my
pussy?”

“No.” She took note of the possessive term. “But you were
ignoring me. And—”

“A simple, no, Pierce. Or, no Sir, will do.”

She sealed her lips against an automatic retort. Quickly
counted to ten. “No
Sir
.”

He framed her face with his hands.

He didn’t say anything for long moments. His green eyes
intent, his slightly rough thumbs stroked over her cheekbones.

She wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for, but she
kept her gaze steady, her body relaxed. She was nervous about the situation.
Not about being with Pierce. Making love to him. Her nervousness stemmed from
disappointing him. Herself. Unwittingly doing something that would send him
walking out the door.

Distracted, it took her a second or two to realize his gaze
cleared and there was a smile in his eyes.

She smiled in return.

His hands guiding the rotation of her head, he kissed her
forehead, the corner of each eye, her temples, each cheek, her nose. Between
one sweep of the second hand on the wall clock and another, he claimed her
lips.

It was everything she’d dreamed it would be and so much
more.

Alternately soft and hard. Passive and possessive. The sure
hot strokes of his tongue when it slid between her lips to pillage her mouth
set off a steady string of tiny flares throughout her body.

“Mmmm. Pierce.” Her soft moan echoed through their joined
mouths.

He rotated her head to the side, deepened the kiss.
Gentleness falling by the wayside.

His lips were a hard press. Teeth clicked. Tongues met in a
desperate, wet dance.

No tentative exploration.

Just hot masculine assertion.

Even without his muscular width blocking the cool evening
air drifting past the sill, heat would have flared in her core.

In need of relief, she sent her hips forward in search of
the hard ridge she knew would be behind those expensive tailored black pants he
wore.

His hands slid to her waist, held her back.

She sought his gaze.

He touched his forehead to hers. Their combined accelerated
breaths stabbing the narrow space between them.

His breathing leveled out first. A light pressure at her
hips had her backing up to the kitchen island. A quick lift and her warm butt
cheeks met cold granite.

She sucked in a breath. Gritted her teeth until the
temperature neutralized. By the time it did, she realized her position. Naked
below the waist. Her hands on his wide shoulders. Pierce standing between her
widespread thighs. Looking down at her bald pussy.

Far from being embarrassed, his stare made her feel sexy and
overtly feminine.

He trailed his fingertips over the freshly waxed area.

“You do this for me?” His head never lifted.

“Yes.”

“What if I preferred hair?”

“Do you?”

He chuckled. “Hell, no.” He flicked her clit and she sucked
in a sharp breath. “Makes a woman more sensitive.” He looked into her eyes.
“And I get an unobstructed view…of everything.” He tugged lightly on one of her
puffy lips. Rimmed her moist opening.

She held still. Although it was killing her. Twice she’d
attempted to deepen the contact. Twice he’d moved back. She’d learned her lesson.

He dropped to one knee.

She lifted her hands from his shoulders to indulge herself
in something she’d wanted to do for a long time. Run her fingers through the
top of his midnight-black hair. Thick, yet soft. It felt amazing. Unable to
resist the disobedient little curl that always hung over his forehead, she
twirled it around her finger.

Looking up at her, he smiled. “You do realize you’ll have to
fix my hair before we leave.”

“It was worth— Oh God.” She nearly came up off the counter
when his tongue touched her clit.

He licked his way up through her pussy lips. Dipped inside
for a teasing taste.

She clutched at his hair. Eased up when he backed off.

Screw going out to dinner. He could plate her up right now
on the counter. Eat her into the wee hours of the morning. Not that she’d last
that long. A couple more swipes and she’d be a goner.

He rose so quickly, if she hadn’t grabbed his upper arms,
she’d have lost her balance.

“Ready?”

“Ready?” she repeated in a daze. She’d been ready for him to
fuck her for years.

“Yep.” He grabbed her around the waist, set her on the floor
and tugged her dress down. “I made reservations at Giovanni’s for nine thirty.
I’ve been anxious to see it after the recent renovation.”

The excitement in his voice barely registered. Damn hard to
relate to, when the only thing Heather was anxious for was the orgasm she’d
been cheated out of. She glanced up at the wall clock.

“We have a little time yet. Wouldn’t you like to finish…”

“Normally, yes. In this case, it’ll serve as a light punishment
for touching yourself without asking permission earlier.”

She was still processing that disappointing little tidbit
when he drew her by the hand over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat.
Producing a comb from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, he handed it to
her.

From her position between his thick thighs, she stared at
the small black tines, wondering how much damage she could inflict to his
stubborn head if she applied enough pressure.

On a resigned sigh, she gently set his hair back to rights.

Hadn’t anyone ever taught him the merits of positive
reinforcement as opposed to denial?

Pierce deliberately set a light conversational tone on the
half-hour ride to the restaurant. An easy trip to Beachwood, mostly highway, he
could devote more thought to the sexy woman next to him than on the road.

He had a fairly good idea Heather expected him to demand she
spread her legs so he could toy with the sweet, hairless pussy between her trim
thighs. Her contemplation was apparent in the little sideways glances she’d
cast him. Normally he would. It was near killing him not to. Knowing she
expected him to toy with her, he decided to forgo the pleasure. Maybe on the
ride home, depending on how the evening progressed. He’d known her for too many
years not to be aware of her horrendous lack of patience. It would need to be
curbed, refined. But not extinguished. Where would the fun be in that?

He wasn’t looking for a compliant doormat. His rebellious
tomboy was unique and he wanted her to stay that way. A totally obedient woman
was not the dream girl for a man who enjoyed the varying facets of sensual
discipline. Besides, he liked the way her eyes smoldered with frustration when
she didn’t get her way.

Before too long, her bedroom brown eyes would be smoldering
with a very different emotion. On a regular basis.

He pulled off Chagrin Boulevard, curved around to the
restaurant’s entrance and handed the keys to the young gentleman who opened his
door. Before exiting the car, Pierce grabbed Heather’s silk shawl off the
backseat, stepped out and strode around to the other side.

If anyone was going to have the pleasure of ogling the silky
length of her shapely legs as she exited the vehicle, it was going to be him.

He didn’t put the wrap around her shoulders. That was for
later, as the temperature was due to take a drastic dip. Even for Cleveland it
was an odd summer, with thirty-degree drops late into the evening.

“Hungry?” He guided her inside with a light hand at her
back. She indicated no discomfort with the gesture. A good thing, since he was
a touchy kind of guy. And she had a body that screamed to be touched.

“Starving,” she drew out. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Another affirmation of her nervousness he took note of.

He greeted the maître d’, introduced Heather and followed
the white-haired gentleman across the dining room to an intimate corner table.

Pierce motioned her into the chair in the corner and sat on
the chair next to her. Once settled and their water glasses filled, a waiter
came around with a wine list and two menus.

“Just one menu,” Pierce stated before she could accept hers.

She didn’t say a word, not even when the young man nodded
and moved off after wine was ordered.

Pleased by her restraint, Pierce perused the leather-bound menu
as another black-suited gentleman came around with a napkin-rimmed basket and
placed a fresh baked roll on each of their bread plates.

“Can you pass me the butter, please?” Heather asked when
they were alone.

“Hold off for a few more seconds, sweetheart, and I’ll
butter it for you.”

She nodded and he motioned their server back.

“How’s the calamari marinara tonight, Antonio?”

The young man kissed his fingertips. “
Eccellente
, Mr.
Layton.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Pierce saw Heather wince. She
detested squid. She had very exacting tastes when it came to seafood.

That she refrained from voicing the objection behind her
lush, kissable lips was admirable. Clearly, she’d done some homework on the
expectations of a submissive. Not that he was a strict Dom in the traditional
sense. He wouldn’t always choose for her, but tonight was special and it
pleased him to cater to her needs, give her a taste of what to expect. All the
different ways he intended to see to her needs while in his possession.

“Hmmm.” He rubbed his chin, pretending to consider. He
closed and handed back the menu. “We’ll start with the crab-cake appetizer. Two
New York strips. Rare for me. Medium rare for the lady. A side of steamed
broccoli. One tiramisu to share for dessert.”

“Very good, Mr. Layton.”

“Thank you,” Heather murmured when the waiter departed.

Pierce smiled. “I’ve known you long enough to know what you
like. And not only when it comes to your food choices.” He paused to admire the
way the single candle in the middle of the table danced across her pretty
features. “You need to learn your pleasure is foremost in my mind.”

“I like the sound of that. The pleasure, I mean.”

“Please me, and I’m more than happy to reciprocate. Disobey
and… Well, I think we’ll play that one by ear.”

While he talked, he took her roll and buttered it.

Instead of passing the warm, fragrant bread back to her, he
tore off a small piece and held it up a few inches away from her lips.

Drawn, both by the man and the heavenly aroma of the
fresh-baked bread, Heather leaned in, took the bread between her lips and
purposely grazed Pierce’s fingertips. Peering deep into his eyes, she gathered
the thin film of creamy butter from her lips with the tip of her tongue.

Intent on her mouth, his eyes deepened to near emerald.

She’d always been entranced by his mesmerizing eyes.
Deep-green oceans a woman could float in forever. And if things worked out as
she wanted, she’d be the last female with rights to do so.

Behind what she hoped was a calm façade, an entire litter of
Snoopy pups danced in her head as she held his gaze.

She wasn’t without power.

Pierce always seemed so sure of himself, unshakable. His
dominant demeanor differed from her brothers’ out-front, in-your-face kind. But
he was no less commanding. Thrilling. Even for someone as strong willed as
herself. The allure of being under his control became more and more appealing
by the second.

Heather thought she’d balk under his firm hand the way she’d
done all her life with the three near-inflexible males who’d raised her. It had
taken a good portion of her tender years to figure out how to maneuver her way
around their chest-beating my-word-is-law crap. Something told her she’d need
more than a single lifetime to figure out a way around Pierce’s dictates. With
any luck, she’d engage in a long-term, very slow learning process that would be
sexually gratifying for both of them. She felt a pleasing sensual buzz of
excitement at the thought of his large, long-fingered hand making contact with
her bare ass. A pleasant buzz she couldn’t blame on having had too much wine,
since it hadn’t arrived yet. No, this reaction was pure, unadulterated Pierce.

A small whimper escaped her lips.

“You okay?”

She nodded numbly.

He touched his pinky finger to the corner of her lips.

Enthralled, she watched as he drew it to his mouth and
licked the buttery residue off. “Missed a smidge.” The low pitch of his voice,
the sensual gleam in his eyes, sent a shock wave of heat straight to her
already moistening pussy.

Good grief. They hadn’t even made it past the warm,
fragrant, lightly crusted bread and her sex drive had launched into the
stratosphere. At this rate, she’d never make it past dinner without an
embarrassing wet spot on the back of her dress.

“Here.” He reached into the inside pocket of his suit jacket
and held out a monogrammed handkerchief.

When she attempted to wipe her mouth, he placed a detaining
hand on her wrist. Shook his head.

Oh God. She was so screwed. Was the man a psychic?

He leaned in, lightly kissed the shell of her ear and whispered,
“Place it on the seat, lift your skirt up to your hips and spread your legs.”

She scanned the crowded restaurant.

He caught her chin in a light grip.

“Trust.” He looked deep into her eyes. “Trust in me. Trust
in yourself. Without that, a relationship between us will never work. This is
the real deal, sweetheart. Tonight determines what kind of tomorrow we’ll have.
Tonight the choices are yours.”

“But how can they be mine when you—” A light kiss swept the
rest of the words from her lips.

“I simply present the options. You choose which ones to
accept.”

“What if what you propose is beyond my comfort level? I’ve
read about safe words.”

His chuckle was low, his eyes glinting with amusement.

She canted her head. “What? You don’t believe in them?”

“On the contrary. Even in a relationship where trust is
twofold, the use of a safe word is a good practice to adopt. Or some mutually
agreed-upon way to stop a scene if it becomes necessary. Especially when
restraints come into play. It’s just that in all the years I’ve been topping
women, not a single one has used their safe word.”

“Really? Not a single female ever felt uncomfortable—”

“Safe words are not used for merely being
uncomfortable
.
They’re used for being pushed far beyond endurance or instances of intolerable
pain far removed from pleasure. Anything less is a copout few Doms will
tolerate. An immediate deal breaker for most. So, sweets, make damn sure if you
use yours, it’s for the right reason.”

A not so subtle warning she intended to take to heart. “But
what about
extreme
discomfort?”

“Some things we’ll discuss beforehand. For those we don’t
you’ll choose a secondary word. One that will
pause
a scene. Allow time
to discuss and determine if your concerns are genuine or something to be worked
through.”

That seemed fair. Apparently, there was much more to the
intricacies of being a submissive than she’d imagined. But there was one thing
she was very sure of. She wanted to please Pierce. In every possible way. She
smiled in relief.

“So what will be your safe word? Pick one to stop and one to
halt a scene for discussion.”

She thought a moment. “
Demolition
to stop.
Construction
to discuss.”

“Cute. And not words that can be misconstrued in any sexual
setting. Just know I may choose to ignore either if I feel you’ve used them
prematurely.”

Her smile faded.
Wait. What? He’d decide? Well, hell!
She opened her mouth to point out the lack of fairness.

“Nonnegotiable. Which brings us back to the trust issue.”

The breath she’d drawn seeped past her lax lips as if it
were a leaky birthday balloon. Since she trusted him implicitly with every cell
in her body, she knew there was only one reply. “Okay.”

“Good.” He sat back, seemingly satisfied.

She felt his approval all the way to her polished red toes.
God, he had the most amazing, full-lipped mouth. She suppressed a shiver at the
thought of the ways he was capable of using it. She’d only gotten a sampling
before they’d left her apartment. But she remembered every detail of how his
talented mouth had brought pleasure to the women in the movie she’d stumbled
across. That she wasn’t the one on the receiving end of his expertise didn’t
matter, she’d been totally turned-on. Which brought her thinking around to
another topic. Threesomes. Could she share him? Would he want to share her? A
nagging, titillating subject better left for another time.

“Heather.”

She pulled her gaze from his captivating mouth to his
slightly narrowed eyes. It took a moment to realize he was patiently waiting
for her to comply with his earlier request. This time, she ignored her
surroundings, looked directly into his warm eyes and unfolded the square of
fine linen he’d given her. She rose up just enough to slip the cloth over the
chair seat and on the way back down, raised her dress and let her thighs fall open.

Once settled, she realized how unfounded her fears were. It
probably looked as if she was merely adjusting her dress, the long white
tablecloth hindering the view of the other diners who were quietly conversing
with their own dinner partners.

Pierce’s hand landing lightly on her thigh removed all
thoughts of their surroundings.

“I’ve always prided myself on being an honest man. But
that’s not wholly true.”

“But you—” Before she could finish, the waiter returned with
their wine.

It seemed like forever before he’d poured a small amount
into Pierce’s glass for his approval, filled both their glasses and moved away.

Pierce squeezed Heather’s thigh. She nearly groaned. After
all the years of fantasizing, the reality of being alone with Pierce in a
setting more intimate than friendship was so, so much better.

“I hadn’t realized until tonight how dishonest I’d been to
myself. My growing attraction to you over the years.”

“You were attracted to me? Why didn’t you say something?”

He shook his head. “For a hundred different reasons. Your
family for one. God, sweetheart. For years I’d considered you nothing but a
pesky little sister. The one I’d never had. Being an only child could suck
sometimes.”

She expelled a soft laugh. “Really? Try growing up with
three—” She gave him a pointed look. “Make that
four
overprotective
Neanderthal males. There were plenty of times I’d wished I’d been an only
child.”

He chuckled. “I guess I can see where you’re coming from.
But you have to know it was all done out of love. To keep you safe.”

Loved… Safe.

Two simple words by which every woman wanted to define their
relationship with a man. Not so simple when you delved into the intricate
layers behind its sentiments.

She had no doubt Pierce would keep her safe, make sure she
never felt threatened.

It was
love
and its innumerable degrees. That was the
issue.

The kind of love she wanted from Pierce was raw, mature. The
can’t-keep-my-hands-off-you, can’t-wait-to-fuck-you kind. And she was
determined to make him see that’s what he wanted too.

Pierce wasn’t sure what was going on inside that
intelligent, pretty head of hers, but between one heartbeat and the next her
entire demeanor changed. It was as if she’d found her footing and was
determined to maintain it.