by J. Kenner
"Shhhh." His tone is gentle. Soothing. And he cups the back of my head and pulls me close. I'm enfolded in his arms, my face against his muscular chest, his body lean and hard against mine. And right then I feel as safe and as loved as I ever have.
"Do you think I don't understand?" he asks. "I do. You're frustrating as hell, Jamie, I'll grant you that. But I do get it. It was a big jump for you just getting involved. But we are involved now, kitten." Gently, he pushes back from me, breaking all contact, so that only our gazes are locked. "We've been involved now for years, and I--"
"I'm ready," I blurt.
For a split second, surprise floods his face, but it's quickly masked.
"I'm ready," I say again, because it feels good just to say it. "I was scared and...and now I don't even know what I was scared of. Not you, that's for sure. I could never be scared of you. Ryan, you've been perfect. So damn patient--I think I would have strangled me by now. But I'm finally--"
"You're ready," he says, sounding just a little confused. "You're really ready to be my wife."
"I--yeah. I really am."
"That," he says, "is exceptionally good to know."
He's smiling as he draws me to him, then kisses me, soft and sweet, before releasing me and stepping back.
For a moment, he just stands there looking at me in the ambient glow from the nearby restaurant. He looks as happy as I feel, and when he takes a single step backward, I'm certain that it's because he's about to drop to one knee, take my hand, and propose.
I hold my breath, waiting for him to just say the words so that I can throw my arms around him and squeal yes, yes, a thousand times, yes!
But he doesn't drop to one knee.
He doesn't take my hand.
Instead, he just nods thoughtfully. "Okay," he finally says.
"Okay?"
He smiles, wide and happy. "Okay," he repeats, and all I can do is laugh.
Sooner or later, he's going to ask me.
And this time, I know what my answer will be.
Chapter Four
"Wait," Ryan says.
We're in the parking structure, and he's latched the convertible's soft top back in place. I've got my hand on the door handle, and I'm about to open the door and get out. Instead, I pause and turn back to him, curious. I don't expect a proposal now--beach, yes; parking garage, no--so I really have no idea why we're waiting to go inside.
"Tilt your seat back and unbutton your jeans." His voice is firm, broaches no argument, and sends me from relaxed to wildly turned on in under a millisecond. That's probably what I love most about him--his ability to control me. A woman who is about as far from submissive as it's possible to get, and yet with Ryan, I always bend to his will. I'm his. Fully and completely, and he damn well knows it.
Just to yank his chain a bit, I consider pointing out that the seat doesn't recline very far in this two-seater gem, but instead I simply obey. I want what's coming, and if I hesitate or tease, he just might punish me. And not by a spanking, which we'd both enjoy far too much. But by denying me. And right now, I can't stand even the possibility.
Without any more hesitation, I press the lever to go back as far as I can, then I bite my lower lip as I very slowly undo the button fly on my Lucky jeans.
"All the way down to your ankles," he says. "Underwear, too. Then spread your knees as far as you can."
I hesitate, turning to him with wide eyes.
"Now," he says, and even though the parking area is well lit and the Thunderbird always attracts attention, I do as he says.
I do it because I understand why he's making me--because this is both punishment and reward.
He's punishing me for letting him doubt. For not fully committing to being his a long, long time ago.
And the punishment he's inflicting is the possibility of getting caught. Of knowing that I am completely at his mercy. That I have to do this because it turns him on. And because by being so open--so wild--I'm giving him power over me.
But the reward...well, the reward is the same damn thing--the possibility of getting caught. Of giving myself over exclusively to his whims. Because it excites me, too. And Ryan damn well knows it.
My jeans and underwear are around my ankles, and my knees are spread, one against the door, the other bumping against the casing that holds the gear shaft. I'm stretched wide, my legs forming a diamond. My skin is hot against the leather of the seat, and although he hasn't touched me, I'm already wet.
I shift my hips a little, then whisper, "Please."
But all Ryan does is smile and say, "Beautiful."
Since I'm desperate for more than words, I slide my hand down over my T-shirt, lower and lower until I reach the hem and my fingers graze the bare skin of my belly. He doesn't stop me, and so I turn my head to meet his eyes as I let my fingers roam even further south, tracing a straight path from my bellybutton to my clit.
His eyes are on mine, but his gaze flickers away as my fingers continue down. I'm waxed, and my mound is smooth and soft. Slowly, I go lower, shivering as I graze my clit, then sliding two fingers over my wet, slick labia.
I arch up as little shockwaves rock through me, the precursors to an orgasm, and that's when Ryan reaches out and closes his hand over my wrist. "No," he says firmly. "Hands above your head. Lock your wrists behind your headrest."
I consider protesting, but I know better. And so I do as he says.
"Good girl," he says as he tugs my shirt up above my breasts, then unfastens the front clasp of my bra. "Oh, kitten," he says, looking me up and down. "Do you know how hard it makes me, seeing how aroused you are? How tight your nipples are. How wet and slick your pussy is. Tell me," he demands. "Tell me you want me."
"You know I do," I say, arching my back a little in the hope that he'll touch me. "Please, Ryan. I want you."
"Mmm." The sound is deep in his throat, and it dies when he closes his mouth over my breast and sucks. I cry out, my body bucking and my hips gyrating. I am utterly under his spell, completely his. Anything he wants, I will give. Any demand, I will satisfy. All I want is him. His hands on me, his fingers inside me. And he takes pity on me, sliding his hand between my legs, then thrusting his fingers hard inside me.
I grind down, wanting to draw him in deeper, harder. "That's it, kitten," he murmurs. "Fuck my fingers. Take what you want."
I'm completely wild, completely turned on, and as his thumb teases my clit, I gyrate my hips, moving against his fingers that are so wonderfully deep inside me. I want to explode around him. I want to burst over the top--and I'm close. I'm so damn close.
My eyes are open, and I can see his mouth on my breast, and just that image alone takes me closer. But when a wash of headlights from a car entering the parking structure illuminates my skin, I know I should stop. Should slink down. But I don't. There's something enticing about the possibility that someone will see. That they'll glance in the car at just the right moment and see what we're doing.
Just the thought alone takes me that much closer, and when I hear the footsteps of whoever has just parked walking down the driveway behind my parking space, I actually whimper.
"Are you close, kitten?" Ryan asks. "Do you think he knows there's someone in this car? Do you think if you come he'll hear you cry out? Does that turn you on?" he asks, and then chuckles in response as my core tightens around his fingers. "Yeah, I think it does. Tell me you like it, kitten. Tell me you like being mine wherever I want you. Tell me I can fuck you anywhere. That you're mine in public and in private."
"I'm yours," I say, but those are the only words I can manage because I'm too close. Too near the edge. I don't really want to be caught--at least I don't think I do--but I can't deny that right now I'm more turned on than I can ever remember being, and part of the excitement is the edge that the danger brings to his touch.
And right now, he's about to push me over that edge.
I gulp in air, my body starting to quiver as the threads of a massive orgasm twist inside me, more an
d more and more. Closer and closer until I'm breathing hard and shallow, so close I know I'll die if I don't go over. And just when I'm there--when I'm only a hairbreadth from a full-on explosion, Ryan pulls his hand gently away, and what was reachable now seems like a faraway port in a storm.
"What--"
"You don't get to come, baby," he says in a low voice that keeps my senses humming and is laced with the promise of an even more amazing climax. "Not until I say you can. Are we clear?"
I nod.
"Are we clear?"
"Yes, sir."
He slides his hand back over my pussy, then thrusts inside me. "Lift your hips," he orders, and when I do, he slides a sex-slicked finger into my ass so that he's fucking me both ways, and the sensation is so incredible that I have to forcibly fight the urge to come right then.
But it's all over when he takes my breast in his mouth one more time and trails his teeth over my nipple. The explosion hits so fast and wild and huge that I can't hold it back, and I shatter completely under his vibrant, erotic ministrations.
When my body finishes shaking, I'm breathing hard and he's gently stroking my bare skin from cleavage to cunt. He's looking at me, too, his expression stern.
"Someone wasn't supposed to go there," he says.
"I didn't mean--"
He presses a finger to my lips to shut me up.
"I didn't ask for an explanation or an apology," he says. "But rules are rules, kitten. And I'm going to have to punish you when we get inside."
"Oh." My pussy clenches merely from the thought. "Um, how?"
"I think I may have to spank your ass until your cheeks are the perfect shade of pink."
I bite my lip, fighting a moan as my body warms simply from the thought.
"And then," he continues, "I'm going to fuck you so hard you scream my name."
"Oh," I say again. My mouth is dry and that's the only word I can manage. Frankly, I'm so turned on I'm amazed I can manage any words at all. "Okay."
"Pull up your jeans, baby."
I comply, my body shaking with desire. Ryan's always been able to arouse me with just a look, but right now it's beyond the pale. I'm so wet my thighs are slick, and the brush of my panties over my clit sends new shockwaves zipping through me.
"Oh no, baby," he says, obviously noticing. "You don't get to come again. Not just yet. Say 'yes, sir.'"
"Yes, sir."
"Tell me why."
"Because I'm yours," I say, then lick my dry lips. "And that means my orgasm belongs to you, too."
"Fuck yes, it does."
I glance down to where he's rubbing his very hard cock under his jeans, then I look up at him with a little smile. "I can take care of that for you, you know. I can take care of both of us, actually. My mouth. My hand..." I trail off in invitation.
"Careful, or you'll earn yourself more punishment," he says, and I only smile and sigh with pleasure. Because I know this man. And I know exactly what I'm in for once we get inside the apartment.
My body clenches in anticipation.
I know...and I really can't wait.
Chapter Five
"What's the matter, stud?" I ask, teasing. "Can't you get it in?"
"Watch it," Ryan says, finally sliding the key into the lock before he gives my ass a smack. "Unless you're looking for me to up your punishment?"
"Oh, how you dangle that carrot," I quip as he pushes the door open. I follow him in with my hands on his ass, and he whips me around as soon as we've cleared the threshold. Then he kicks the door shut with his foot and presses me hard against the wall, his hand cupping my crotch.
"Somebody is playing with fire."
I still have a hand on his ass, and I pull him harder to me. "Is that what I'm playing with?"
"I don't know. I--"
"Um, guys?"
I squeal from the unexpected voice, and Ryan leaps backward with more grace than I'd expect under the circumstances.
I shift sideways--and see the speaker sitting on my couch, her knees up under her chin, and a very uncomfortable expression on her face.
"Moira!" Ryan's voice is harsh, almost paternal. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Ryan's sister jumps up, her pretty, round face full of contrition. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry!" She turns her wide brown eyes to me as she pushes a lock of curly dark hair out of her face. "I really needed to talk to Ryan, and I've lost my phone--I know, don't lecture--and so I thought I'd just come over. But you weren't here, and I remembered Ryan mentioning the brunch, and so I thought I'd just wait. I have the key you gave me from when I pet sat for Lady Meow-Meow, and I didn't think you'd mind."
"I don't mind," I say. "I was just surprised. And if you'd waited another second to say something, god only knows what you would have seen."
She glances toward Ryan, her lips pressed tight together. She looks like she's about to burst with laughter--and he turns a very charming shade of red.
Moira is one of the reasons Ryan settled in Los Angeles. He sold his security company to Stark International about the time she'd started at UCLA. He once told me that he moved here so that he could be closer and spoil her rotten, but the truth is he doesn't spoil her at all. Instead, he's been a father figure to her, and at twenty-two, Moira is capable and independent and smart. She's also become a good friend.
Someday, she'll be a good sister-in-law.
The thought makes me smile brighter. "We really don't mind," I say, since she still looks mortified. "But what's going on?"
"First, can you use that tracking thingie to find my phone?"
For a moment, Ryan looks about to lecture. Not surprising, since Moira is always losing her phone. But all he says is, "No problem." He starts to reach into his back pocket for his phone, but his hand stops as Moira continues talking.
"And second, I've been offered an internship this semester at Bradley-Costner."
I look at Ryan, who just shrugs.
"The advertising agency?" Moira says indignantly. "In Chicago? It's one of the biggest in the country, and this is a huge opportunity."
"How can you get an internship when you're already a month into this semester?" Ryan asks.
"Well, there was some sort of mix-up. But if I can get someplace to live lined up this week and start work a week from tomorrow, then I can take the internship, get course credit, and drop my other classes without penalty."
"And so you're in Jamie's condo because why?"
"Waiting for you, dummy. There's no way I'll be able to find a place in time--not one that I can live in without Mom freaking out. I thought maybe you could help me?" She raises her shoulders, her expression pleading. And right then, I see how it was between them when they were kids. Him the older brother, almost like a father. And her, the charming and pretty little sister who had Ryan completely wrapped around his finger.
Honestly, it's completely adorable.
"When do you need to go?"
"Tomorrow," she says. "I need to be in Chicago to finalize all the paperwork and meet my boss by Tuesday morning. And then I figured I'd spend the rest of the day and Wednesday looking for a place and then Wednesday night, I'd head on to Boston to see Mom with you on Thursday. Please," she adds, making prayer hands. "You know you want to help. Otherwise who knows what kind of dive I might end up in. With some horrible, scalawag of a roommate."
"Scalawag?" Ryan repeats.
"Practically a pirate. Won't let me study. Will drag me to bars and seedy establishments. It'll be horrible. You just have to come."
He sags down onto the couch. "Well, that's where we have the problem. Because I'm trapped at work on Tuesday."
Her entire body sags. "Seriously? Maybe you could--"
"Can't do it, Polly," he says, which is his nickname for Moira. Apparently, she had a fascination with Ritz Crackers when she was a kid.
"But--okay, but...but Jamie could come with me." She finishes the sentence with a flourish, obviously having just concocted what she sees as a brilliant plan.
"But Ryan does. And he could set us up with an agent. Or maybe have his assistant line up a few places ahead of time. I mean, if Jamie gave the place a thumbs-up, that would be okay, right? You trust her, don't you?"
"He so doesn't trust me," I say. "With his little sister? Not even."
But Ryan is standing and nodding. "Of course I do, and I think it's a great idea. You are brilliant," he says, crossing to Moira and then kissing her cheek. "And you are sexy as hell," he continues, now looking at me. "And also damned responsible."
I make a noise in the back of my throat that might or might not be disbelief.
"Oh, gosh," Moira says. "I mean, if it's okay with you, Jamie. I just sort of blurted that out. I probably should have asked you first, not just--"
"It's fine," I assure her. "It'll be fun."
"And now that we've got that all straightened out, it's time for you to go." Ryan gives her a gentle nudge toward the door.
"My phone," she reminds him.
"Right." He pulls out his own phone, then curses when he looks at the screen. "Hang on," he says. "I missed a call." He lifts it to his ear and listens to a voicemail. When it's done, he's scowling.
"Well?" Moira presses before I can ask who the message is from. "Are you going to track it?"
"Hang on." He taps the screen, then raises a brow as he looks at her. "What's the name of that guy you're dating? The one who lives in Silver Lake?"
"Phil? I'm not dating him."
"Then I won't even ask how you managed to leave your phone at his house."
"Oh." Her cheeks turn pink. "Probably in the kitchen."
"Why don't you head on out and get it?"
"Right." She heads for the door, then turns back. "But--but what about the flight? Can we go on one of the Stark planes? And we need a hotel. And--"
"And I'll work it all out and text you," Ryan assures her. "It'll be commercial. The fleet's booked up this week. But you'll get there just fine, I promise. Now go before I rescind all offers of help."
"Aye-aye, Captain." She whips off a little salute to Ryan, then gives me a hug before bouncing out of the condo.
"You really don't mind?" Ryan asks me.
"It'll be fun." The more I think about it, the more I mean it. "We can mix up apartment hunting with shopping. Or just go out drinking. Who knows, maybe some cute guys will pick us up in her new neighborhood's bar."