The Waltz (8 page)

“Hell of a workout plan you got here, Rhys,” I joked as I waited for him to make a move. He didn’t acknowledge or look at me as I waited patiently. Surely this had to be a joke. Any minute he would burst out laughing. He pulled his phone from his pocket to send a text and I gave him wide eyes and a, “Hello!”

He continued to ignore me and I went from horny and expectant to furious in nanoseconds. I moved to get up and he snapped to attention.

“Get back on all fours, now!” I went back down quickly, trembling. His bite was fierce and I was pretty sure the conversation we had next to his stairs wasn’t over. Rhys wasn’t happy. I shouldn’t have lied to him. God, maybe he knew I still lived with Alex. I should come clean.

“Rhys, I—”

“Did I say you could fucking talk?” He bit viscously. WHOA. And then I was wet. I had to remind myself that I asked for this, that I wanted to experience being dominated. I needed to let go.

“Can you at least tell me what the exercise is?”

“Woman, you have no idea when to shut your mouth.” He snatched the yellow box and came behind me. I looked back at him and gave him a smirk. Bad idea. His return smirk was scary.

I heard the box open and close as Rhys circled the table, rotating two small silver balls in one hand. His eyes were on fire as he circled me, taunting me.

“We are exercising the art of stamina and discipline today, Mrs. Harvell.” My eyes widened as my pulse quickened, sure I had just begun sweating in the cold room. He knew. He had just caught me in a lie.

“Rhys, I—”

“Not another word, Violet, or you won’t get my dick today,” he snapped. I clamped my mouth shut, my arms growing weak as he continued to circle me, rotating the balls, the sound breaking through the cheers of the football game; it was all I could concentrate on. He leaned over and rubbed my backside, gently moving over my folds and dipping a finger in.

“So wet for me already and I haven’t even touched you.” I parted my lips and pushed back on his hand in reply, moaning for him. Seconds later, I felt the rub of a single cool ball at my entrance and gasped at the feel of it. I moaned again as he slipped it inside of me.

“We gotta keep this pussy tight if you want to play with the big boys, don’t we, Mrs. Harvell? Don’t you dare let it go or we will start all over again.” I clamped down as hard as I could, the task not seeming to be much of a challenge until the weight of it hit me. FUCK.

I kept my thighs tight, clenching as much as I could. It was agonizing and I looked up to meet his eyes filled with that familiar burn. He circled me, watching me struggle. I felt the ball slip as I gave just an inch of leeway to relax. I sucked in a breath, clenching as tight as I could when he surprised me by adding the second. The fear set in as I gripped my muscles tight. He tortured me, stroking my thighs in a relaxing manner as I held onto the balls for dear life. I found no pleasure in this and was about to start begging when he joined me, kneeling on the table, placing a hand on each of my thighs. He licked my center sweetly as I tightened with all my might, trying desperately not to lose at his game.

“Very good. I’ll reward you.” He dipped his finger inside, pushing the balls slightly further. This was my reward? I moaned in agony as my knees began to hurt, my thighs aching for relief and my arms starting to shake.

“Look at that sweet ass,” he murmured, massaging my puckered hole. I sucked in a breath and squeezed as hard as I could as he rubbed me sweetly. The feeling was so foreign, but felt so good, I knew I couldn’t hold on much longer.

“Oh, God!” I cried as he dipped a finger into the unchartered territory, a ball crashing to the table.

“You get one, Violet, no more.” I shook now, the ball barely inside me, and the wetness only growing as he fingered my ass and blew on my sex. I moaned for him, begging for relief, but he kept me there. I was drawn so tight, my nipples were aching and I felt the tears hot on my cheeks. It was pure frustration pouring out of me at this point.

He took his finger and his mouth away and I screamed out in frustration. The pull was there, but I needed his help and he knew it.

“What do you want, Violet?”

All I could feel was the heavy weight of the ball and the need for his cock. I didn’t answer as he slapped my ass hard, the second ball falling out only to be replaced swiftly by his length. He slammed into me and I came so hard my front half collapsed on the table as I called his name. He never slowed his pace, his strokes punishing and exquisite. I recovered only slightly as he again massaged my ass while punishing my clit with his finger. I came again minutes later and he grunted, pulling my hair as he shot his orgasm onto my back in hot spurts.

We lay on his couch, tangled up and panting an hour later after another round. This one didn’t involve balls or discipline. This one, though just as devastating as the first, consisted of me being bent over every surface of the bottom floor of his house.

“About my husband…” I said, catching his grey eyes, the small grin fading from his face.

“Jesus, lady, no man, no matter who they are, wants to hear those words after sex.”

“It’s just that, I want you to know … I don’t know why, but there’s nothing going on there. I mean, we have to be honest, right?”

He was lying flat on the couch and I had my leg over his torso, enveloping him with my hand on his chest. This was way different than our rendezvous at the club. I wondered why he had brought me here to his home. This screamed personal, yet he never really pried, never really asked me questions about myself. Maybe this was just the way he treated his partners, and I respected him for it. He gave way more than he took, and it seemed to satisfy him. And yet, the more I studied his profile as his breathing evened out, the more I felt my chest tighten. He said he was a relationship kind of guy, or that it wasn’t so out of the question. I wondered if he’d consider that with me. And then I sort of panicked … I shot up off the couch, racing to the stairs for my clothes and heard him laugh at my lightning streak across the house.

“Where’s the fire?” He had just tied the string on his sweatpants and rounded the corner to the stairs when I clasped my bra.

“I’m sorry, I have to go. I forgot …” I couldn’t think of one damn good excuse to give him and sat down on the bottom step of his stairs, sliding my shoes on.

“Wow that’s the worst excuse I have ever heard. I wanted to cook you dinner, but hey, you forgot …” He shook his head slowly, his usual grin at my expense covering his face.

“I’m sorry,” I said standing up, throwing my shirt over my head. He helped me pull it down and lifted my hair out of the collar as my heart did a summersault.

“It’s okay, Violet. If you have to go, you have to go,” he whispered to me as he kissed my cheek. I nodded and walked toward the door, mumbling about errands and that it was pointless to thank him for fucking me and I would talk to him soon. He stopped me as I placed my hand on the doorknob.

“Don’t leave. You don’t want to, so don’t.” His breath tickled my ear, the smell of him mingled with the sex we’d had was intoxicating.

“If I stay, then everything changes, right?” He moved my hair away from my neck and placed a soft kiss on the back of it.

“Don’t you want to find out?”

My chest squeezed at the thought and I turned to him, kissing him sweetly before I left him at his door. I fumbled with my keys, not looking to see if he was watching me, and got into my car. I braved a look at his entrance, but he wasn’t there. I laid my forehead against my steering wheel, not wanting to leave, but knowing if I stayed it meant we would start something I wasn’t sure I was ready for. I was barely a few weeks into my year of being sexually free. On the other hand, the man was beautiful, smart, intuitive, well endowed, and seemed successful. Oh, and he was a stallion in bed who had blown my mind with his impressive skills with his hands, dick, and tongue for the last two weeks. What the hell was I thinking?

I dashed for his door, taking the four million steps quickly and twisted the handle. Locked. Okay, so it wouldn’t be the grand entrance I pictured in my head. I knocked on the door and got no answer. I knocked again and waited. Nothing. What the hell? I had been in the car less than five minutes. I didn’t see a car leave. I knocked again, this time more of a bang, and got nothing. Completely confused, I ran down his steps to the driveway and saw his sedan parked next to the house. I ran back up to his door and knocked again. When he didn’t answer, I became furious and kicked a potted plant down his steps. He picked that exact moment to open the door and stood watching me curse as my toe pulsed with my heartbeat. He crossed his arms, soaking wet with a towel wrapped around him.

Ah, he was in the shower. You should probably find a rock to go crawl under, Violet.

He stood there dripping on his beautiful antique floor, torturing me, his half-baked smile on the verge of hysterical laughter. I quickly started talking.

“I’m definitely not as subtle as I used to be.” I nudged over my shoulder at the plant that I had just massacred. “I have a bit of a temper. I’ve horrible allergies and I look disgusting when I have an attack, like disgusting,” I circled an open hand over my face for emphasis. “I have good things going for me too. I hate raisins, but I love wine. As a matter of fact, I can pair wine and food like no one’s business. I give a mean massage, I know the location of all the prime and potentially lucrative real estate in Savannah, and I can hold a kegel ball in my vagina for at least ten minutes.”

“Five,” he replied with a chuckle.

“THAT WAS FIVE MINUTES!” I said, clearly disgusted. “Fine, I’ll make it ten by Christmas. I love a challenge.” I stood there with my pride hanging in the air as he watched me carefully. “God, why couldn’t you have just left the door unlocked?” I threw up my hands. “Now you’ve seen my crazy.”

He looked gorgeous freshly wet and still dripping. I wanted back in that house bad. “Yes. I want to see where this can go, Rhys.”

He dropped his towel and tugged me inside by both hands, shutting the door and placing my back on it. And then he kissed me, really kissed me. I melted into his arms as his tongue gently stroked mine, my moan this time actually sounded like a sigh. I opened myself to him, letting him strip me bare. He clasped our hands as he led me upstairs. I took a quick look around his spacious bedroom as he led me to his adjoining master bath. He turned the faucet on the tub and plugged it, adding some bath salt. I raised my brow.

“What? Its cucumber and I like the smell.”

I burst out laughing and he swatted my ass playfully. He tested the water, letting it run as he pulled a towel from the cabinet, placing it on his sink. The bath was a beautiful, old-fashioned clawfoot tub and I couldn’t wait to get in it. He pulled me to him and kissed me again like he meant it, leaving me breathless and aching for him.

“Take a bath and I’ll start dinner. Chicken fettuccine okay? I’m pretty sure there are no raisins in it.” He winked and I nodded, my cheeks heating slightly. He kissed me again sweetly and let me go. I stuck both feet in, wincing as my sore toe hit the water. Rhys turned to me as an afterthought as he was walking out the door. “I’m glad you said yes.”

I smiled at him and replied, “Me too.”

God, how naïve was I to have thought all people into kink were sub-human? Rhys seemed to be a really good man. I looked around his subtle but tastefully decorated bathroom and thought now this is a man who might appreciate decorations on the holidays. His house was a home, even if he was the only one who occupied it. It seemed warm and inviting and I felt right at home in his clawfoot tub, sudsing my body and enjoying his hospitality … and his cucumber bath salt. I giggled again, taking a look at the brand he liked, burning it into my brain. I was sure it would come in handy later, either as ammo or a present. God, was I already planning to prank him in the future? The truth was, I hoped so.

Downstairs, dressed and freshly cucumbered, I found a drop dead gorgeous man tooling around in his kitchen with ease. He wore a fresh pair of sweats and had pots going heavy on the stove. I was saddened at the loss of his bare chest now covered by a white t-shirt.