What He Provokes (What He Wants #18) (4 page)

I was just starting to drift off when I felt his hands on my wrists.

His grip tightened as he rolled me over, and then he was on top of me, straddling me, his strong thighs pinning me in place.

My consciousness groped around, trying to make sense of what was happening as I woke up. My hands tightened into fists, my instinct being to fight against him.

“Shh,” Noah whispered. He had me trapped now, his weight pressing down on me heavily.

I couldn’t see him well in the darkness, could just make out murky shadows, the outline of his broad shoulders, the straight line of his nose, the way his hair fell over his forehead.

“Noah,” I said, “what – ”

“Quiet.” This time his voice was commanding, the tone gruff and low and sexy, the tone I’d come to know meant he was going to take what he wanted from me. I gazed up at him, my eyes locking on his, and I felt breathless, the emotion between us squeezing my heart and my chest so hard it felt like I was in a death lock.

I loved him.

I loved him so much.

I couldn’t bear being without him, couldn’t bear him being upset with me. The thoughts burned against my brain, mental images of being without him, and the tightness in my chest intensified until I was forced to take in a deep breath.

I couldn’t breathe without him.

That’s how it felt.

It was the worst cliché, the kind of thing that would have made me roll my eyes and laugh, the kind of thing that would have made me pity the pour soul saying it –
do you really think you can’t live without a man, how absolutely pathetic of you
– but that was before I’d met him, before I’d known what real, true love felt like, before I’d felt his touch, experienced his kiss, gone through hell and back with him and fallen even deeper.

I could tell he felt it too, from the way he was looking at me.

My eyes were starting to adjust to the darkness now, and Noah was coming into focus, his face sharpening, the look in his eyes intensifying and becoming more clear, like puzzle pieces shifting into place.

“Noah,” I whispered, because I wanted to tell him how I felt, wanted to tell him I was sorry, wanted to apologize for acting like a brat and getting mad at him for being nice to my mom.

“Shhh. It’s okay, baby,” he murmured. “Shh. It’s okay.”

I nodded, the tears welling in my eyes. His index finger grazed my lips, and he rested his palm on my cheek, brushing his thumb under my eye, checking for tears.

His eyes blazed as he lowered his head to kiss me, and I closed my eyes, waiting for his lips against mine.

But I was left waiting and wanting.

The kiss never came, and when I opened my eyes again, Noah was staring down at me wickedly.

It was then that I realized he was completely dressed, in a pair of black jeans and a loose black t-shirt.

“Why are you dressed?” I asked, trying to prop myself up on my elbows as best as I could. “Where are you going?”

“Not me. Us.”

“What?” I turned my head to glance at the clock on the nightstand. “It’s three in the morning.”

“I don’t give a fuck what time it is, Charlotte,” he said, and he tugged the covers down over my body, his eyes raking over my curves. His hands found my tits, kneading them through the thin material of my t-shirt. He moved lower, sliding slowly, deliciously down my sides, his huge hands moving with a sureness that made it known he knew exactly what he was doing to me, and furthermore, that he was going to enjoy every last second of it.

He gripped my waist, his thumbs pressing against my hipbones, his fingernails digging into my ass as he angled my torso up off the bed and pulled me into his crotch.

I could feel his cock through his jeans, hard and ready for me, and my pussy flooded with desire.

He leaned down and brought his mouth to my neck, his tongue flicking against the hollow of my throat, warm and soft and good. I arched and pushed into him, but he pushed me back down onto the bed, holding my torso firmly in place against him so I could still feel his dick.

He raised his eyebrows and smiled down at me, a wicked, mischievous gleam in his dark eyes. Finally, he climbed off of me and stood next to the bed, leaving me waiting and wanting, a prisoner to his whims.

I put my hands up over my head, waiting for him to tie me. But he didn’t. Instead, he reached down and slid a finger down my body, over the swell of my breasts, down my abdomen, inching the material of my t-shirt away and tracing a line back over my hipbone. He intentionally didn’t go anywhere near my pussy. I whimpered, resisting the urge to writhe on the bed, knowing if I did he would only draw out the torture.

“Get out of bed, Charlotte,” he said.

“What?” I asked, confused.

“Do not ask questions, Charlotte. If you do, I will make this far, far worse.”

I stood up.

He moved toward me like a jungle cat, then reached down and pulled my t-shirt off, letting his hands roam over my tits, pinching my nipples before moving them down and slowly peeling off the pair of aqua-colored silk panties I was wearing, until I was standing there naked.

He cupped my chin and pushed his thumb into my mouth, and I sucked it hungrily, knowing he was giving me a taste, a chance to show him what I could do with my lips, my teeth, my tongue, knowing if I was a good girl he would give me his cock.

He watched me intently, grazing my teeth with his thumb.

“You are mine,” he growled. “Do you understand?”

“Yes,” I whispered. “Yes, sir, I understand.”

He smiled and leaned down, kissed me softly, sucking my bottom lip between his lips, pulling back and leaning his forehead against mine.

“I own you. I own your body, your tits, your pussy. It belongs to me.” He gathered my hair into a loose knot and tugged it, hard. “You are my possession, my property.”

“Yes, sir,” I managed, my heart pounding so loud against my ribs from anticipation and longing I was afraid it was going to jump out of my chest.

“Don’t move,” Noah said, and then he released me.

He crossed the room to the dresser, opened a drawer and returned with two pieces of black fabric. He bent down and picked my foot up off the floor, kissed the arch and ran his tongue along it gently, eliciting a soft moan from my lips. He slid the slip of fabric over my foot, then repeated the process with the other leg, pulling a pair of black thong panties up over my knees, my thighs, my ass.

If you could even call it a thong.

It was more of a g-string, so small it barely covered my pussy, the tiny string in back leaving my ass completely exposed.

“That ass,” Noah said gruffly. He pulled his hand back and slapped my buttocks, making my flesh jiggle. He didn’t hit me hard enough to really hurt, just enough to sting, just enough to let me know he meant business.

He curled his finger under the side of the thong, pulled it back, and snapped it against my flesh.

Then he licked his bottom lip and draped the other piece of fabric he was holding over my shoulders.

It was a shirt, a button up, almost like a cardigan, only it was made of the lightest, most luxurious material I’d ever felt. It was a mesh and see-through, with tiny holes and a lace overlay. The material was silky soft against my skin, not scratchy at all.

Noah ran his hands through the strands of my hair, pushed them back over my shoulders.

I kept my gaze on his, saw the deep feelings I had for him mirrored in his dark eyes.

“Should I get on my knees, sir?” I asked, the words catching in my throat.

The side of his mouth twitched, like he was amused at my words, like the thought of me getting down on my knees and taking his cock in my mouth was so tame it was cute.

“No, Charlotte,” he said. “I do not want you to get down on your knees and suck my cock. Not yet, anyway.”

I tipped my head. “Sir?”

He grinned and wrapped his hand around mine. “We’re going out.”

H
e put
me in red high heels.

He didn’t put anything on the bottom of me, nothing to cover the tiny strip of dental floss he was trying to pretend were panties, and when I tried to protest, his eyes burned and he pulled me to him, crushing his chest against mine, his lips silencing me with a kiss that let me know not to ask any more questions for fear of him making whatever wicked thing he had planned even worse.

There was a limo waiting outside, idling on the curb, and the city was muted. New York was the city that never slept for a reason – even now, at 3 am, you could hear the sound of car horns trilling over from Lexington and Park, could hear the rev of the engines from the taxis as they whizzed by, could feel the thrum of the city in your chest, could smell the flour coming from the bakery on the corner as they prepped for their morning customers. None of it was gone, but everything was softened, like the city was drowsy and dragging its feet.

I, on the other hand, was wired with anticipation and electricity from the trepidation of not knowing where I was going, and the excitement of being taken from my bed at three in the morning and made to dress in a sexy outfit, ready to serve Noah’s every desire.

His hand wrapped around mine as we slid into the backseat.

The leather seats were warm, the supple material like butter against the bare skin of my ass and the back of my thighs.

Seat warmers.

I shook my head. “You think of everything, Mr. Cutler.”

“I need you to be comfortable and safe at all times, Charlotte.”

I swallowed, silencing the warning bells that always went off whenever he said something like that. No matter how many times I tried to explain to him that unless he was going to be with me 24/7, he couldn’t keep me one hundred percent safe one hundred percent of the time, he wouldn’t listen.

But now was not the time to bring that up. We’d already been fighting about his need to control me, to keep me out of danger and safe. The last thing I wanted was to highlight that point of contention again.

So as the limo pulled smoothly onto the street and began working its way through the drowsy, dark, eerily beautiful streets of New York, I let Noah pour me a glass of champagne from a bottle that was chilling on ice.

I took a sip of the Dom Perignon, letting the sweetly tart liquid slide down my throat, warming my body from the inside out.

Noah took the glass from my hand and took a long swallow, then reached into the ice bucket and pulled out a piece of ice, slid it over my lips until they were shivery cold, then kissed me, the warmth of his kiss and the taste of the champagne on him combining to make me dizzy.

“You. Are. So. Sexy.” He slid the ice cube down over my breasts, running it over the thin material of my see-through top until my nipples were peaked and pebbled, sticking straight through the fabric, betraying my desire.

My panties were so wet I was afraid I was going to leave a wet spot on the seat of the limo, a mortifying thought that made me shift my weight on the seat.

Noah grinned, as if sensing the reason for my discomfort.

“Tell me you trust me,” he demanded, his voice a low growl.

“I trust you, Noah.” But even as I said the words, a little voice whispered in the back of my mind.
Do you really?
But I pushed it away, into that dark box in my brain reserved for anything that made me too uncomfortable, the same place I’d just pushed my feelings when Noah had said he needed to keep me safe.

Is this a good idea?
the voice whispered before it vanished, protesting, into that dark hole.
That you’re pushing down all your concerns, all your worries?

But I didn’t have time to think about it, because Noah was reaching into his pocket and pulling out another slip of material.

I recognized it right away.

A blindfold.

He pushed my hair back from my face gently, his fingertips grazing my skin. Then he fastened the blindfold around me, tying it in the back, tugging on it to make sure it was tight enough that I couldn’t see.

I couldn’t – everything was dark, and I resisted my instinct to reach up and pull the blindfold off.

“Noah?” I reached for him, and he was right there, his touch strong and comforting.

“Shh,” he murmured in my ear. “It’s okay, baby. I’m here. Let yourself go.” He kissed the soft spot under my ear, and it instantly relaxed me.

I nodded. “Okay.”

I felt his weight shift on the seat next to me.

“I’m not going to do anything you’re uncomfortable with, Charlotte. Do you understand?”

I nodded again. “Yes.”

“But I
am
going to push you. Do you understand that as well?”

“Yes, sir.” The blood rushed through my body, every synapse firing.

“Do you understand why I have to do that?”

“Because I’ve been bad.”

“I’m going to collar you now.”

Collared.
The word sent fear roaring through my body, and my hands instinctually went to my neck.
Blindfolded and collared.
Panic rose in my throat, making me feel as if I were choking, even though the collar was nowhere near me yet.

Noah reached up and pulled my hands down slowly and placed them in my lap. “Do you know your safe word, Charlotte?”

“Yes, sir.”

“What is it?”

“Red, sir.”

“Good.” He kept his hands on top of mine for a long moment, waiting for me to settle.

When he removed them, I kept my hands in my lap, curling my fingers and pressing my nails so hard into my palms I was sure they would leave marks.

A moment later, the scent of leather filled my nose, and I felt the cool smoothness of the collar wrap around my neck.

The metal made a clicking sound as Noah fastened it around me, followed quickly by the sound of metal against metal as Noah clipped a leash to the collar.

I tried to settle myself.

I was almost naked.

Blindfolded.

Collared.

I’d given him what he wanted.

Complete control of me.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Charlotte?”

“Where are we going?”

I could hear the wickedness in his voice when he finally answered me.