Training Her Curves - Geneva (A BBW Billionaire Domination and Submission Romance) (5 page)

My hand fell against the door three times in quick succession. I heard the approach of footsteps, heels against stone flooring. Liking the sound, I told my face to relax but the muscles remained lifted in a rictus of worry. I one hundred percent would spank her sweet ass if she was okay.

The door opened. A blonde goddess wrapped in a black silk dress looked up at me from beneath heavy lashes darkened by mascara.

Fuck...she looked just like some of the catalog shoots with just a pinch more clothing.

"You're safe?" I asked, my internal operations arguing with my cock whether it was too soon to balloon inside my pants. Just because she answered the door didn't mean there wasn't someone with her in the house who had drawn her out with a threat.

Her brow crinkled in confusion.

"I'm asking if you arranged this, on your own, without anyone threatening you," I clarified.

Surprise blossomed across her face. A nervous giggle followed. "Sorry, I guess it looked suspicious."

Scowling, I moved past her and checked the first floor, every room, every cupboard or closet large enough to hold someone in it. Re-entering the massive living room with its floor to ceiling glass windows and doors, I took in the full view. We were up high, Geneva and the lake in the distance. The patio off the living room overhung the road and turnout where Mishka waited below. There was a pool and a fire pit, rails and then endless sky.

I pulled the phone from my pocket just as Joey came up beside me. "Clear, leave the car."

"Nighty night," Mishka chuckled right before I hung up.

"He was listening the whole time?" Joey asked, her voice filled with surprise and a trace of dismay.

"Yes," I answered, distracted. Next to the fire pit was an oversized chaise lounge, a fur throw draped across it. On the ground, champagne chilled in a silver bucket.

"How is he getting back to the hotel?" Her tone had sharpened and I realized from its almost shrill quality that she was growing upset.

"In one of the other three cars." I turned at last and watched her brows push up her forehead at my reply. Yeah, definitely upset. "Love, you didn't answer your phone. I thought someone might be holding you."

I swept my arm around the room and toward the fire pit and its chaise. "I sure as hell wasn't expecting this."

When I looked back, her expression had changed yet again.

I grabbed her shoulders. I would not let her retreat. She had a spanking and a whole lot more coming before the night was through.

But first, I needed to know something.

"What changed?"

Marjolein

What changed?

I suppressed a few snarky answers, none of which were true, anyway. I hadn't lost my mother loving mind. I hadn't hit my head and developed amnesia for all the times I had felt crushed by Dylan.

"I might have looked in your jacket pocket to see what you kept touching and..." I showed him my palm and the red dot where the small puncture had bled and scabbed again. "To see what made this."

He took my hand, used studying the injury as an excuse not to look me in the face.

"You weren't supposed to find that. You weren't even supposed to be here."

"But I did," I answered softly. "And I'm glad I did...I think."

I took a deep breath in, unable to camouflage the anxiety that gripped me.

Still not looking at me, he poked his chin in the direction of the patio and the scene of seduction I had so carefully laid out. "That doesn't bother you?"

"Hell yes it does," I answered. "I thought I was going to have to crawl back in here when I took the champagne and blanket out and started the fire."

Dylan rolled his lips together. His tongue appeared for one flashing second to lick the center between them. When he turned to me, his eyes were heavy, almost drugged in appearance. He blinked and then he took command of my shoulders again.

"We don't have to go out there." He pulled me to him. His hands moved up to my face, framing it and controlling the tilt of my head as he took his first kiss of the evening. "I just need you."

My turn to blink, the motion wet. "You want me to get over that fear, don't you?"

He didn't answer, just stared intently at me. His lips looked swollen, something I thought only happened with aroused women. He licked them again. Groaning, I pressed my thighs more tightly together so I could remain standing and then I leaned into him.

My hands found his hips and I used his body as a brace.

"Dylan, if you go out there, I will follow you. If you stay here, I'll stay here."

Need shook my body. My flesh heated, grew moist. The pressure between my legs mounted until I thought I might climax just from standing next to him.

Wordlessly, he stepped away from me and opened the sliding door. Not looking back, he circled the pool and pushed the fur throw to one side of chaise. Taking a seat, he extended his arm, his palm flat against the surface of the chair, his attention on his hand.

Marking my spot next to him.

My heart rattled inside my chest. I had been with him once and dreamt about being with him a thousand times at least. Neither the first time in Miami or there in the chateau I had rented for the night had the scene played out in any manner that matched my imagination. The fantasies always had an easier set-up, some minor variation in our daily routine that triggered his sudden realization that he wanted me, maybe even loved me.

No variation had been needed if what he had said was true. He had wanted me through all those boring office tasks, the long flights -- that first flight, even.

Slowly, the air thick around me, I took my first step onto the patio. His head lifted slightly. I saw a flash of his gray eyes, their color black in the evening light, and a small measure of relief. He had doubted that I would follow.

Another step. My legs felt weak but it had nothing to do with how high we were up, how I couldn't see the ground beyond the railings, just sky and the glow of Geneva and the black of the lake. I was weak from how badly I wanted him.

Dampness coated my thighs.

Somehow, I made it to the fire pit. He stopped me there. My blood froze and all that wetness between my legs threatened to evaporate as I worried whether he had changed his mind again.

"One second, Joey." He stood and repositioned the chair so that the back was to the pool and the end pointed toward the valley. He sat back down, his legs spread so that his feet rested on the ground. The fur throw bundled beneath one arm, he patted the area in front of him. "Here."

My wobbly legs navigated the last few feet and I sank relieved onto the chair.

Dylan covered me with the throw and then his hands dipped beneath the blanket. With just those last few steps, all the heat had returned to my body and my nipples pebbled painfully beneath my silk bra. He found the tips and rolled them between his thumbs and index fingers.

I released a shaky breath. He really wouldn't have to touch me down there before I popped.

"How thin do you think the air is up here?" he asked, chuckling softly as my hips lifted and I released a soft groan. "Because I'm definitely feeling lightheaded."

His lips ghosted my neck. I pushed into their kiss, my body beginning to shake.

"I don't know," I answered. "We are about a mile above sea level. Like Denver."

He nuzzled my neck again. "I don't remember feeling like this in Denver, but then, you weren't there with me."

A cat-like smile uncurled along my face, the air moving through my lungs in a rough imitation of a satisfied purr.

"I promised myself I was going to spank you if you were okay," he said right before his teeth fastened around my ear lobe. His hands smoothed down my body. When he reached the bend of my thighs, his fingers started walking the skirt of the dress up my leg.

I lifted when the fabric resisted from my body trapping it against the chair. When he finally had the material up around my hips, his fingers dipped inside my panties to find me soaking wet.

"What color?" he asked with a hot whisper.

"Crimson," I answered softly. I meant the fabric of my undies, but the flesh he stroked had to be as deep a red with need.

He leaned deeper into the back of the chaise. One hand escaped from beneath the blanket to wrap around my hair and pull me with him before it dove back under the fur. His fingers pulled my thighs apart as he nibbled at my ear. He spent a few more seconds securing his grip on the side panels of the silk underwear and then he decimated them with a single sharp jerk.

At the sound of the fabric shrieking, my hips lifted with a ragged pump, my body further aroused by the show of force. His palm landed on my mound and pushed me down against the cushion. His breath steamed against the side of my face as his hands massaged my pussy.

Fingers holding my labia open, his thumbs launched a synchronized attack against my clit with feathery strokes. My ass pushed against the chaise, grinding with desire. I might have had most of the leverage, but he was so strong he didn't need it. He kept me trapped with just his hands, allowing me only a little wiggle room to heighten my frustration.

"I've been dying since Miami," he whispered in my ear. "Before then, really, but after I had a taste of you, I was completely lost."

Only once had I thought that might be the case, when he capitulated and disclosed Alexa's location. The rest of the time, even the few instances he had tried to force control over my activities, like forbidding I pose in the catalog, his demeanor had been so distant that I couldn't believe he did it because he cared rather than merely because he wanted to establish his command at the company.

My hips stopped moving as a tear slowly tracked its way down my cheek.

"You don't believe me?" He waited, expecting perhaps that I would answer, but I didn't. He continued. "That's my fault."

I agreed with a harsh whisper as I tried to keep my crying to that solitary drop.

He chuckled softly and then his hand escaped the blanket again. He thumbed the tear away, his fingers taking control of my chin at the same time so that my face turned just enough that he could kiss my cheek and then the side of my mouth.

"So why are you here?" he asked. "And don't tell me it was because of the brooch in my pocket."

I pressed my lips tightly together and tried to shut down my brain. Why did he have to inject any conversation into what we had started?

"The brooch made you realize that, even if I'm an ogre, I don't want to be -- at least not around you."

Against my better judgment, my head made a small bob in agreement.

"Still, that's not enough to bring you here. The brooch made you admit that you wanted me to have feelings for you."

This time I kept my gestures on lock down. I remained so still I could have been a stone carving.

"I'm not afraid to say that I love you, Marjolein." Dylan pulled me onto my side, my lower body nestled between his spread legs and my upper torso against his chest.

Not wanting to meet his gaze, I pushed my face against his neck.

"Of course," he started, clearing his throat as he stroked my hair. "That's not the same as saying I love you, is it?"

When only the crickets replied, he growled and unwedged himself from the chair and my body. As he stood, I felt a sharp pang of disappointment at how quickly he retreated.

Or did he?

Bending over me, he slowly peeled the fur blanket down my body, straightening my skirt as he went to keep me unexposed, even though only a satellite or a plane could have seen anything where we were at.

"We're not having this conversation out here or with you avoiding my gaze." Pocketing my torn panties, he extended his arms toward me. "Come inside."

Slowly I sat up, cautious because I had no idea where the evening was going or whether a sudden bolt of fear would hit me as it had earlier when I was alone on the overhang.

"You're safe," he said, his palms open in invitation for me to grab hold of his hands. "Whatever it is you fear right now, even if it's me, I'll keep you safe."

I watched his face as he spoke, but avoided his eyes. I had never quite learned how to read his gaze, but I could see the truth in the way he held his mouth.

He would walk away if I foolishly said I wanted him gone. The pain that had stabbed at me when he stood had receded, but it erupted again, a softer infusion across my entire chest but more encompassing. It hurt just as badly to know that he might love me but would leave me anyway.

"Joey, love, just come inside with me. That's just a small request, isn't it? Easily satisfied, right?"

My lips pushed forward and my brain grew fuzzy. This wasn't how Dylan Kehoe negotiated.

Was he negotiating?

"Let's start by you taking just one of my hands, okay?"

My brows lifted and I could just imagine how ridiculous my expression had become.

His light, warm laugh wrapped itself around me and I had to finally look into his eyes to figure out what he found so funny.