Caught Up In You: Edgeplay The Complete Serial: A Billionaire and BBW BDSM romance

by Jenna McCormick

  The helicopter lands on top of the hotel and a line of staff eagerly greets us with the Marhaba or welcome in Arabic. Bakhoor, which translates to scented bricks is burning away, perfuming the air from a traditional mabkhara. I’m given a cold towel followed by a squirt of scented rose water, and offered dates along with authentic golden colored Arabic coffee from a dalla.

  “I may never leave,” I murmur to Connor.

  Our private butler escorts us to the twenty-fifth floor, to one of the two royal suites. I gawk like the country bumpkin I am as he leads us through the grand entrance and into the opulent hall. My sneakers squeak a bit on the marble floors, but our butler kindly pretends not to notice as he reels on about the features like the bath menu, the en-suite electronic system that controls everything from the lights to the curtains, on and on it goes.

  Overwhelmed, I move toward the floor to ceiling windows and stare out at the city skyline. After a few murmured words from Connor, our butler discreetly vanishes.

  “You okay, Red?” Wrapping me in his arms, he rests his chin on my head. It’s getting dark and I can see the hint of our reflection in the massive window. Me in jeans and sneakers the likes of which I doubt this room has ever seen before and him in a fresh suit.

  “Just feeling insecure. All of my research didn’t prepare me for this.”

  He turns me to face him and tilts my chin up. It’s a maneuver I’m becoming familiar with, one he does when he wants to make sure I recognize the importance of what he’s saying. “Do you think I don’t belong here?”

  “Of course not.” Connor fits right in. It isn’t just his style or money either, it’s his commanding presence, the air of authority that wraps around him like an invisible cloak. He’s important, and not just to me. “You were tailor made for this place.”

  Those penetrating blue eyes bore into me, no longer content to just read my thoughts, but determined to influence them as well. “So what does it mean when we both know you belong with me?”

  I rest my chin against his chest and let the steady pounding of his heart sooth me. “That I’m supposed to be here too.”

  “Good girl.” He strokes my back in a soothing rhythm. “I had the butler prepare a mint bath to help you relax. We’ll dine in tonight, if it’s all right with you.”

  “Sounds fantastic.” Standing on my toes I give him a soft kiss. “In case I haven’t said it, thank you.”

  He looks surprised. “What for?”

  “Everything. Opening up my world, teaching me how to love. The whole enchilada.”

  His eyes glimmer in the dimming light. “Have you seen the bedroom yet?”

  Slowly, I shake my head, more than willing to follow a change in plan. My faith in his choices is absolute, he knows how to make a good thing better.

  Before I realize it, he hefts me over his shoulder and heads for the gold and marble staircase.

  “You have got to stop hauling me around like this.” The token protest escapes. I love that he picks me up, carries me around like I weigh nothing at all. Having felt massive for most of my life, his display of strength is a total panty drencher.

  One rough hand lands on my backside. “Says who?”

  Me for one. Snarkarella intones. This is undignified.

  Ignoring her, I scream in mock fright as Connor takes the stairs two at a time.

  The master bedroom in the suite is just as over the top as everything else. More mahogany furniture, along with a four-poster rotating canopy bed. Dropping me onto the mattress, Connor attacks my clothes with purpose. Sneakers and socks go flying. He makes short work of my jeans and underwear then goes for his own. I’m still in the tank top I stripped down to on after the helicopter ride but he doesn’t seem to care as he orders “Hold on to the bedpost with both hands.”

  I do, having to bend forward to wrap my fingers around it. The move stretches me out so my chest is pressed against the mattress

  His feet still on the floor he bends over me, one of his hands locking both of mine in place. I feel the prod of his cock against my already soaked sex and moan loudly when he shoves into me in one hard, fast thrust.

  “Ssshh,” he murmurs, clapping his other hand over my mouth. “I’m gonna ride you hard and fast, baby. Hang on.”

  And I’m lost as he pistons against me, driving upwards and inside, battering my cunt. My teeth sink into the flesh of his palm, needing him to know exactly how deeply I’m feeling this. Our mating is rough and primal. He’s fierce in his possession of me. It goes on and on, him driving me where we both need to go. Over the edge, past the point of no return.

  “Come now,” he whispers. “Come hard around my cock.”

  He shoves in so hard that his sac rebounds against my clit. I’m done for the final touch sending me over the edge. Screaming against his hand, I writhe through the orgasm that threatens to annihilate me. Tears leak from my eyes, blinding me with the sheer perfection of the moment.

  An instant of heaven, before hell is upon us.

  “Oh hell,” Connor pants, yanking out of me, backing away so fast he trips over the pants he didn’t take all the way off. I turn toward him, wondering what the hell just happened. His eyes are wide and full of fear and self-loathing and I know. He flipped back over. Dom Connor is gone, leaving a confused and disjointed Mr. Edge in his place. His seed trickles down the inside of my thigh, over the rainbow of hickeys he put there and he stares at it in horror, before looking up into my face.

  “God Baily, did I…?” Words seem to fail him and he swallows before starting again. “Did I just rape you?”

  27

  “What a waste,” I mutter to Rochelle as I sip from my wineglass. My gaze is on the view from our hotel dining room, the one over the shimmering waters of the gulf. My mind is on the man who hasn’t been near me all week.

  “And you can’t tell me exactly what happened?” Stirring her strawberry daiquiri, she studies my face. “What went wrong?”

  “It’s a misunderstanding.” The bruises on my thighs have faded to yellow. Sick as it sounds, I’m sorry to see them go, this last reminder of my time with Dom Connor. Mr. Edge has been all work and no play, not even spending five minutes alone in the suite with me after the incident the night we arrived.

  He’d arranged for me to go shopping with Rochelle and Lola at the infamous Dubai mall, to tour the Burg Khalifa, the tallest manmade structure in the world. I spent time lounging by the pools in a new bathing suit and sarong, countless hours in the amazing Assawan Spa, getting every treatment from a hot stone massage to balance my Chakras and an organic body wrap that involved having me be trussed up in seaweed like a few of the dishes we dined on at the Al Mahara.

  The dinner had been a disaster. Freshly primped and smoothed and dressed in a newly purchased designer wrap dress, I sat awkwardly in the beautiful room, being ignored in public instead of in private. Connor hadn’t even cracked a smile when I mentioned whoever designed the place where patrons ate seafood in front of the massive aquarium full of fish was a bit sadistic.

  If anything his expression grew darker before turning to talk to his business associates.

  “He’s spent every night in the spare room.” I gestured in that direction. “When he’s not working, he’s sleeping. I feel like a purse dog dragged along for the ride, groomed and pampered, but virtually ignored.” He’d spent a fortune spoiling me though he didn’t say anything, wouldn’t share my bed, or my body, instead treating me like some charity case. Despite the luxurious pampering, I’m tenser than when we got here.

  “Where is he now?”

  “The city. We’re leaving as soon as he gets back.”

  “Well, you’ll have him trapped on the plane at least. If I were you, I’d sit on his lap the entire ride or until he listens to reason.”

  Biting my lip, I look toward the gold and marble staircase. “I don’t think he wants me that close. He’s appalled about stuff that happened with the other him.”

  Setting down her drink, Rochelle rises
to stretch. “I don’t know what to tell you, hon. Men can be stupid and stubborn. I mean with you guys being engaged and all—”

  “We’re not.” I look at the ring I’d slipped onto my finger the night after he’d practically run screaming from the room.

  Rochelle frowns at the three carat sparkler. “I just assumed because you’re wearing it and everything.”

  “Remember how he introduced me to Lola?” Dropping my voice to mimic his deeper tenor I say, “This is Baily Sinclair, she use to work on the estate I purchased. Every person he introduced me to, it was the same spiel. No, this is my fiancée or even my girlfriend. Hell, at this point I’d settle for fuck buddy. I don’t know. I just wish he was the other way all the time. Him I get.”

  “Maybe that’s the problem.” Rochelle taps her chin thoughtfully. “Men are insecure creatures at heart. Maybe he knows you’d rather be with Connor dark draft.”

  I can’t help but giggle at the nickname, but my amusement fades fast. “It’s not really a rather thing. It’s just the other version makes everything so much clearer. With this Connor there’s trial and error. We’re always fighting or not communicating at all, like now. I feel like I’m walking on eggshells with him.”

  “Did you ever think that maybe he feels the same way about you? Think about it, Baily. It makes sense that this Connor is somewhat uncertain. He’s the one with big gaps in his memories, right? That’s got to affect a guy’s confidence. And he has to live with the knowledge that you are essentially sleeping with another man while he’s away and there’s nothing he can do about it. He’s got to feel as though you have one foot out the door already. Maybe the distance is just his way of protecting himself from more hurt.”

  My mouth is hanging open. “I never imagined….Do you really think…?” I’m almost dizzy from the possibilities. Or maybe it’s the wine.

  She nods. “If he didn’t want you with him, he would have sent you home. Connor’s no martyr, and you aren’t his cross to bear.”

  It makes so much sense. Here I’ve been steering clear because I thought it’s what he wants. “You are brilliant, you know that, right?”

  Rochelle waves her hand. “Tell it to the critics. My latest release is sinking faster than you can say Titanic. Bonehead critics say I’ve no chemistry with the leading man, can you believe it? I’ve been faking chemistry with men for years.”

  “People are stupid.” I vow to drag Connor to every movie Rochelle is in until the end of time.

  I escort Rochelle down to the ground floor, feeling relaxed enough to take in the sheer decadence of the hotel. We hug. “And you’re going where next?”

  “I’ll be in New York through the holidays, so you and your man need to get everything settled, so Lola and I have someplace to go for Thanksgiving.”

  Rochelle climbs into her Mercedes and I wave. A Rolls Royce passes her as she reaches the causeway and I wrap my arms around myself, knowing instinctively its Connor returning.

  The driver pulls up in front of me and sure enough Connor gets out. Because I’m looking for it I see the dark circles under his eyes. He isn’t sleeping any better than I am.

  “How’d it go?” I fall into step with him.

  “Fine.” He barely looks at me, just strides purposefully into the hotel. This isn’t going to be easy.

  My new purchases are already packed onboard the helicopter so we head straight to the roof. The noise from the rotors makes conversation impossible so I spend the short ride back to the airport figuring out how best to approach him.

  We board the plane and he sits on the opposite side of the aisle from me, staring out at the tarmac. I remember the way he held my hand during takeoff. Though the flight attendant shoots me a dirty look from her space near the cockpit, she doesn’t say a word when I get up and move to sit next to Connor as the plane starts taxiing toward the runway.

  He jumps when I plop down next to him, eyebrows drawing together in a ferocious scowl. “You’re supposed to stay in your seat.”

  “I wanted to be near you.”

  His hands are clenched in balled up fists, and he rests his head against the back of the seat. “I don’t want to do this right now. I’m exhausted.”

  Covering his hand with mine, I say. “All I’m doing is sitting. Take a nap if you want, but I’m not going anywhere, Connor.”

  Rolling his head to the side, he studies me. “How can you even stand to look at me?”

  The loathing, the self-hatred in those words constricts around my throat. “I love you. That hasn’t changed even if you’ve been a jerk by ignoring me all week.”

  He sighs, a weary soul deep sound and I let it go, knowing he won’t answer. But I keep my hand in place and even rest my head against his broad shoulder. His tension abates after a few minutes but the second the fasten seatbelt sign goes off, he beelines for the bedroom. “I’m going to lie down for a few hours.”

  Licking my lips I choose my phrasing carefully, “Do you want me to come with you?”

  He pauses and I see the tightness creep back into his shoulders. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

  A few weeks ago I would have been so hurt by what I perceived as a rejection, I would have missed his response. But I know Connor Edge now, how he thinks. Rising, I pass by him into the bedroom.

  Stripping off my linen pants and white tunic style shirt I sit on the bed and wait. If he retreats back to the main seating area, I’ll let him go. For good. No matter how much it hurts, I don’t want to be with a man who can’t stand the sight of me. Let him explain to the other Connor why I’m gone.

  The air rushes from my lungs when he steps over the threshold and shuts the door. It’s like. The tormented look in his navy eyes is heartbreaking, so much more so when he kneels in front of me and rests his head against my belly whispering, “I’m so sorry.”

  “Connor, look at me.”

  He doesn’t move, so I use his own maneuver against him. Gripping his chin, I force his gaze up to mine and enunciate plainly, “You did nothing wrong.”

  Yanking free of my hold, he shakes his head. “I was pinning you down, covering your mouth. You were crying.”

  “The good kind of crying.” Why did men never understand that. “I was overwhelmed.”

  His expression is still skeptical. “And the bruises on your thighs? Were they the good kind too?” His tone is mocking.

  “Yes,” I say and before he questions me, I strike.

  He jumps, tries to pull back, but determination courses through me. My teeth sink into the tendon along the side of his neck. I seal my lips around that little bit of flesh, sucking, applying pressure so I’m sure to leave my mark.

  An unguarded sound escapes his throat, one of raw pleasure. His hand fists in my hair but he doesn’t try to pull me away. He’s completely still while gnaw on him like a vampire or succubus or some otherworldly creature intent on claiming what’s mine.

  Releasing him, I slide one hand down over his shirt, right over his heart so I can feel it racing. “How do you feel?”

  Though he doesn’t say anything, his hand goes to the side of his neck, to touch the sensitive skin I abused until I left a mark of possession. His eyes are hot and beneath his tailored slacks his cock grows hard, I know, because my other hand travels there, feeling him through his clothes. Enticing him back to me.

  “Everything we did together, everything we ever do together is consensual. It was rough sex. I wanted you to hold me down, to take what you wanted. Do you remember how you were feeling when you first realized what was going on in that hotel room?”

  He closes his eyes, shifting his stance until my hand is traversing his entire length. “Hot, hard, aching to come. I watched my cock disappear inside you, all slick with your juices, felt you squeezing me so tightly inside your body.”

  Circling the crown through the lightweight fabric of his pants I murmur, “Do you think I would have been that way if I hadn’t wanted you to do those things? To mark me, to pound into me, giv
ing me everything you’ve got? I wouldn’t have been wet if there was true force. I wouldn’t cling to you if I didn’t want to keep you.”

  He’s shaking his head even as he rocks into my touch. “You don’t understand, he wants to force you. To attack you, tie you up, gag you, fuck you hard and fast. The dreams—” He cuts off when I work his fly open, holding his thick club in my hot little hand.

  “What dreams?” They sound awesome to me, so I have no idea why he’s so freaked about this.

  “I can’t think when you touch me like that,” he gasps. Lowering my head, I engulf him in one hot, wet slide. Again his hands are in my hair as I bob on his cock, working the shaft between my lips, demanding his release. He mutters something, a series of words, but I’m not listening, eager to bring him over quickly. A sated Connor is a reasonable Connor.

  He’s fighting it. His sac is drawn up tight when I cup it in my palm. I roll the twin weights like dice in my hand, caressing and stroking through the thin skin. He bucks forward and a little precum leaks onto my tongue. My clit is hard and throbbing, my sex slippery with need, but I’m afraid if I stop, he’ll call a halt to this.

  Or will he?

  Giving a blowjob is a strange time to have an epiphany, but that’s when it hits me, with a mouthful of his thick cock. What I’ve been doing wrong. Connor is one man, and Dom Connor is a part of him, just like Snarkarella is a part of me. I’ve treated him like he’s two separate beings, because he’s so different, behaviorally. But deep down, he’s exactly the same guy, with the same urges, desires and instincts. If I can help him tap into those, if he can experience what his dominating side and I do together, maybe he won’t be so appalled by it.

  Decided, I release him and focus on his flushed face. He’s breathing hard, his fingers still tangled in my hair so I can’t go far. Not that I intend to.