Oh, fuck.
We both run for the main door, but he beats me again, flattening against it and smirking his triumph.
“You’re not getting out of this room with those,” he informs me, slightly breathless.
“Why?” I’m laughing. It’s impossible not to laugh at the absurdity of the situation, even as my body aches to pounce on him and fuck him senseless.
“Because I said so.” He’s smirking. “Because what I say goes.”
Oh, shit. Fuck, fuck, fuck.
He’s using a Dirk line on me.
That rat bastard.
“I don’t remember Dirk stealing panties,” I tell him, ignoring the slick wetness between my thighs. So very noticeable, now that my panties are in my hand instead of where they belong.
“It was cut from the final draft.” He stands up straighter, leaning towards me. His hand snaking around my body. I pretend like I don’t notice what he’s doing, but of course I do.
At the last moment, I take a step back. He’s left briefly unbalanced, but recovers quickly.
“Just give them to me,” he says, in that persuasive tone I’ve heard him use with his peers. “They’re mine, anyway. I paid for them.”
“Possession is nine-tenths of the law,” I tell him, stepping backwards again.
“That’s not even close to true,” he says.
I take another step, and I realize I’m very close to the wall. In a moment, I’ll be caged in.
“Give,” he whispers.
“No,” I whisper back, flattening against the wall. My hands, and the panties, are still behind my back.
“You know what happens when you tell a man like me ‘no?’”
It’s not a Dirk line, but it should be. My whole body is thrumming with anticipation, and I don’t even spare a thought for why the fuck he’s suddenly so interested in me.
And my panties.
“I’m guessing…” My voice sounds husky, dripping sex, and I can’t control it. “…punishment?”
“That’s right.” His lips curve into a smile that makes me quiver. “Tell me, Meghan - did anybody give you your birthday spanking this year?”
My heart’s jackhammering in my chest. Dirk gave Amanda a birthday spanking once, and she did so enjoy it. Me? I’ve never been spanked, to my memory. Not for any reason, punishment or otherwise. But I’ve thought about it.
Oh yeah, I’ve thought about it.
“One more chance.” He raises a finger, in indicate the number. But all I can think about is that finger sinking inside me.
Shit, I am too far gone.
“Give me a million more chances,” I tell him. “You still can’t have them. They’re mine.”
With a snarl, he grabs my arm and yanks me forward. During our little game, I almost forgot how easily he could overpower me. Dragging me over to the sofa by the TV, he sits down, knees splayed, finally letting go of me. He pats his thigh, looking up at me with an expression that allows no refusal.
I swallow hard.
“Like this?” I whisper.
It seems so intimate. I’d rather he bend me over a table, even if that’s a significantly less flattering position.
“Like this.” His eyes are like tempered steel. “Come on. You had your chance.”
Squeezing my eyes shut, I drape myself across his lap. I can feel him, hard as a rock, twitching against my belly. God, I just want him to fuck me.
I’ve still got my panties clutched in my hand, but for the moment, he seems to have forgotten about them. He pulls my skirt up over my waist, and I’m trembling. What if the reality of how I look under my clothes doesn’t live up to his fantasy?
Judging by the sharp intake of breath, I haven’t disappointed him. His fingers caress gently, but only for a moment.
At the first smack of his palm, I cry out. I can’t help it. The feeling is so intense, so perfect, and my core quivers and aches. I’ve never been so turned on in my life.
“Shh,” he whispers. He grabs the panties, but I don’t let go. “Do I have to gag you with these?”
I shake my head.
He spanks me again, and again, and again. I squirm and whimper, staying as quiet as I can, and I dimly hear him groan and curse as I unwittingly rub my body against his cock.
Six. I count six. He still owes me twenty more.
How on earth will I survive? I already feel like I’m about to explode in a cloud of lust.
Growling, he shoves his hand between my legs, dipping his fingers into my wetness. I buck and moan, my body loving the intrusion.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “Get up.”
I manage to stand, on shaky legs. Staring at him, cheeks burning, my skirt lazily falling down to cover me. He’s jumping to his feet a moment later, fumbling with his zipper. I watch him take it out - I didn’t get a good look in the pool. It’s exactly as long and thick as it felt, curving upwards slightly, glistening with precum. My mouth is watering.
“I can’t wait.” His eyes rake over me, drinking me in. “You’ll get the rest of your punishment with my cock inside you.”
Voice stolen, I nod, bending over and grabbing the back of the sofa. He makes a soft noise of approval at the view, and I hear him cursing and fumbling with a condom wrapper.
A moment later he’s at my entrance, bluntly pushing inside. I let out a ragged moan, arching my back and inviting him deeper. He waits until he’s buried to the hilt and smacks me again, the reverberations making me clench.
“Fuck,” he whispers, his fingers gripping my soft flesh.
I’m drunk on him, but I still have enough presence of mind to laugh.
“Think you can last nineteen more strokes?” I tease him, breathlessly.
Adrian growls, spanking me again. “I can last as long as it takes,” he promises, rocking his hips against mine, a slow, subtle rhythm, before he pulls out and slams all the way in again. I cry out, forgetting to be mindful of the other guests. “As long as it takes to fuck the smart-ass out of you.”
I can’t help it. I’m still laughing.
“Impressive.” My voice catches when he smacks me again, jolting my whole body with pleasure.
“You’re damn right.”
I don’t count, but I’m pretty sure he does it. The first part, anyway. Actually fucking the smart-ass out of me would be quite an accomplishment.
Every breath is either a gasp or a moan. Our encounter in the pool was pretty damn explosive, considering the limitations, but this is in another level. It’s absolutely unreal. My brain loses the capacity for rational thought, and I start to clench around him, my body arching with pleasure.
He stops.
He fucking stops.
My moan takes on a distinctly different meaning. Twisting my head around to glare at him, I start to protest, but the look in his eyes silences me.
“Did I say you could come?”
I grip the back of the sofa tighter. “No.”
“I can’t hear you.” His fingers mimic mine, digging into my hips even deeper.
“NO!” I practically shout.
“That’s right.” He’s almost panting. There’s no way he can hold back for much longer, and I know I’ve got that on my side, at least. “This is your punishment, remember? You don’t come unless I tell you so.”
Okay, so, this was one of the hottest elements of his books. I remember it well. I loved reading about it, but damned if I ever wanted to experience it. Every other man I’ve been with had enough trouble getting me there in the first place; orgasm denial was never in their lexicon. Adrian obviously doesn’t have that problem. He’s confident enough to toy with me.
But how far will he take it?
I can break his resolve. I’m confident of that. Smiling to myself, I squeeze my inner muscles tight. It almost triggers my own climax, it’s that close, but I’m able to hold it back. For now. Adrian groans, twitching deep inside me. A moment later, he jerks out of me, and delivers one more solid smack. I yelp, more at the loss of his co
ck than anything else.
“Bad girl,” he whispers, and I hear the soft noise of the condom being discarded, the rapid sound of skin on skin, slicked with my wetness. “You know what this means, don’t you?”
I can guess. Every part of my body’s throbbing and as much as I want him inside me again, oh God, I want him to claim me. I want the mark of his come on my skin, such a potent and unmistakable message after I spent the evening with those cover models.
I want to be his.
I’m not stupid. I know that’s not really what it means. I know it’s just a primal urge, he just needs to come somewhere and he’s on a fucking power trip.
“Yeah,” I whisper. “So fucking do it, then. Mark your territory.”
He pitches forward, grabbing my shoulder with his free hand. “You want it?” he whispers.
“Fuck yeah.” I lick my lips. “I’m all yours, Sir.”
The noise that comes out of his mouth is unholy. My pussy clenches, and I feel the wet splashes on my back, my ass. Fuck fuck fuck. I could almost come from that sensation alone, and I feel a gush of my own fluids answering him, trickling down my thigh.
Adrian plunges three fingers inside me, very suddenly. “Now,” he commands.
I’m done for.
My body seizes up with pleasure, I’m shouting, trembling, and it feels like it goes on for ages. When it’s over I just want to curl up in a ball, but I know I’m a sticky mess, so I force myself to my feet and face him. He’s smiling.
“I really thought you were gonna make me wait longer than that,” I tell him.
“So did I.” A wicked half-smile. “But you were so lovely, offering yourself up to me like that. I thought you deserved it.”
And then he grabs my head and kisses me.
This, I realize, is our first kiss. It’s appropriately perverse that it should happen now, and he’s smearing my own juices in my hair, and his jizz, too, probably. Did it get on his hand? Which hand? I’ve been on the pill for a while, so I’m not unduly worried about some of his seed getting inside me, but I wonder how careful he was.
When he pulls away, I wipe my mouth and grin at him. “You know if you knock me up, that kid’s gonna come out with horns.”
“It didn’t get inside you, I promise,” he says. “But I won’t be offended if you want to take a morning-after pill. Or perform some kind of black magic ceremony. I’m not really sure what’s appropriate under the circumstances.”
“Relax. I’m on the pill. And for future reference, unless I’ve been visited by an incubus since my last checkup - not counting you, of course - then I’m still squeaky clean.” I hug myself, feeling the wetness slide between my thighs. “Metaphorically speaking.”
“Ah. Me too,” he says. “Except it would be a succubus, right? Hopefully.” He makes a silent gesture that I interpret as an invitation to join him in the shower, which sounds like a spectacular idea.
“Why does it matter?” I ask him, laughing, as I follow him into the bathroom. “They’re both trying to suck out your soul through your dick.”
“I don’t know. What if I wake up in the middle of it? I feel like I’d handle it better if it was a female demon, at least. Just one less thing to deal with.” He turns on the water. “I sound like an idiot, don’t I?”
“Yup.” I laugh at him, stepping out of my skirt. I’ve got his rapt attention now, and normally I’m a little shy the first time I undress in front of somebody, but he’s looking at me like I’m a glass of perfectly-aged bourbon he can’t wait to get his lips around. “Though I guess there’s always that chance the incubus is gonna go knocking on the back door. Less likely with the succubus, unless she’s the full-service variety.”
To his credit, he doesn’t look embarrassed. “What finishing school did you attend, again?”
I take off my bra, and while he’s staring, I flip him off with both hands.
CHAPTER NINE
WHEN I WAKE up, it takes me a few seconds to remember where I am. There’s the usual oh, I’m not at home realization, quickly followed by oh, I’m not in my own room, either. Which is, of course, immediately followed by:
Right, I slept with Adrian last night.
And he didn’t kick me out, so, that’s something.
There’s no sign of him anywhere, though. All his stuff is here, so it’s not like he fled in the night, but on my trip to the bathroom and back I don’t spot any sign that he was here recently. Yawning, I climb back into bed and snuggle under the covers. There’s still a while before morning sessions, and I don’t care about most of them anyway. I slept like a baby after last night, somehow, but I’m still tired.
I have no idea how late we stayed up. I could already see the gears turning in his head, revving up for Round 2, as I stripped down for the shower. We “washed” each other, then made out for a while until I was practically humping his leg, at which point he took mercy on me with those very, very skilled fingers. As much as I appreciated them, I still wanted the chance he’d robbed me of earlier. And I finally got it, when he took me to bed.
So yeah, maybe that’s why I’m still so sleepy. I could go back to my own room, but having left the connecting door locked, in my infinite wisdom, I’ve eliminated the possibility of doing so without getting dressed. And that sounds like a hassle and a half.
The sound of the door clicking open shakes me out of my dozing. I push myself up on my elbows, squinting at Adrian as he walks in.
“Morning,” he says, smiling. I feel a little twinge of relief in my chest. “Any thoughts on breakfast?”
“Some.” I’m flirting with him. I can’t help it. His groin is basically at eye level as he approaches the bed, and it would take superhuman willpower not to think about the possibilities. “Why, what do you have in mind?”
He grins. “I’m trying to think of a way to make a ‘hair of the dog’ joke that’s not going to come across badly. So far, no dice.”
I keep expecting the room to go cold and quiet, the way it did in the pool. But he pauses by the bed, his fingers brushing my leg under the covers before he drops a shopping bag in my lap.
“What’s this?” I frown at it, unfolding it slowly to reveal the contents. I have to spend a couple minutes blinking the sleep out of my eyes before I can process what I’m looking at.
Panties. Sensible ones. But not too sensible - little black boyshorts, cute but practical, and one hundred percent cotton so they’ll actually stay where they belong. I look up at Adrian with genuine gratitude in my eyes, but something in his face deflects it before I can say what I want to say.
“These are too small,” I tell him, instead.
He tilts his head slightly. “You can’t possibly know that without trying them on.”
Rolling my eyes, I clamber out of bed, trying not to notice how his whole body language changes while he drinks in the sight. I’m still wearing his discarded shirt, and I know, for whatever reason, that drives guys completely insane. It doesn’t hurt that I might as well be naked. It’s not even remotely big enough to be decent, so he’s getting an eyeful, but there’s just enough of the crisp white fabric to be a little bit of a tease. Something tells me we’re not going to make the morning conference sessions.
I step into the boyshorts, shamelessly, and have to shimmy a little bit to get them up over my hips. But if I keep them riding low, technically, they fit.
Advantage Risinger.
He looks me up and down, licking his lips. It’s pretty obvious he dressed in a hurry this morning, to sneak out and get me this little gift, so his sleeves are rolled up to the elbows and his hair’s falling out of place in a way that’s practically inviting me to grab a handful and guide him home.
Advantage Burns.
“I win,” he says, closing the tiny distance between us. He tilts his head to mine but he doesn’t kiss me, not quite, and I’m grateful for that on account of my morning breath. But something tells me he’s not going to care. “Now, Ms. Burns, I just watched your pupils go the siz
e of dinner plates while you stared at me. You want to share what’s going through your head, or do I have to run down my arsenal until you surrender?”
God damn this man. His lips are so close I can almost taste him.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I murmur innocently. My heart’s beating a million miles a minute, basking in the desire that positively radiates from his body. Most of yesterday’s makeup ran off in the shower and my hair is tangled and I probably still smell like last night’s sex, but he still can’t keep his hands off of me. Well, evidently he can - which is a problem I intend to rectify.
“Oh, that’s how she’s going to play it.” Like he’s talking to himself, the way he always does when he thinks no one can hear him. “But, hmmm…where do I start? That’s the question, isn’t it?”
He steps back, just far enough to circle me, getting the full view.
“As much as I’d love to spend the rest of this conference in here with you, that might raise a few eyebrows. So, I think it’s best to get off to an explosive start, so we can move on with our day. What do you think, Ms. Burns?”
Breathless, I nod.
“I’m so glad you agree.” He smirks. “After the way you behaved last night, I think you’re overdue for a proper tongue-lashing.”
It takes me a second to even process what he’s saying, and he’s kissing me by then, withdrawing and nipping at my lower lip only when I make a muffled noise of protest.
“I, um…” I look up at him helplessly, wanting so badly to just sigh and surrender to this, but I can’t. Not when my last boyfriend made me shower and scrub down and shave myself clean before he’d go near my ladyparts with his mouth. I didn’t blame him, not one bit - I knew there were plenty of guys who refused to do it at all, so I always considered myself lucky.
I’m not exactly going full Wild Kingdom, but I’m only trimmed, and my last ex was the only guy I ever allowed down there. I don’t really have a basis for comparison - some baseline of what guys generally consider acceptable for this particular activity.
Of course Adrian doesn’t care. At least, he doesn’t think he cares. He got a good look at me last night, he knows what he’s dealing with. He knows I just rolled out of bed. But I can’t just switch off the thrum of anxiety, the little voice in the back of my head telling me I’m not good enough.
His Secretary: Undone and Unveiled (The Complete Series Collection) Page 10