by KB Winters
In Grant’s eyes, I was a goddess. Beautiful, strong, sultry…powerful. And now that we were alone, that power was stirring and waiting to be revealed for him.
I studied him, wondering how such a confident, in control man, be so consumed and overtaken by someone like me. If I didn’t know better, I would almost attribute the look in his eyes to something that went beyond passion or arousal. Something in his eyes made me feel like he needed me.
But that was impossible. Wasn’t it?
My hands stilled, my fingers just barely touching the cool metal zipper fly on the side of the dress. Grant’s eyes flicked from my hands to my eyes, a question forming on his perfect, handsome face. “Is something wrong?”
I considered him for a moment, unsure how to answer. “No, nothing’s wrong. The zipper is stuck,” I lied, acting like I was tugging the small tag. I couldn’t tell Grant what I was feeling, mostly because I didn’t know. I also knew that I couldn’t—shouldn’t—ask what he was thinking. It wasn’t the time, and it definitely wasn’t the place. A sex dungeon was hardly the place to have a heart to heart conversation about the future of our relationship. If what we had was even enough to consider a relationship.
“Here, let me assist,” Grant said smoothly. He crossed the room and within seconds, had the zipper lowered, revealing the red corset I wore underneath. His warm hand slipped under the dress and my body jolted alive when his fingertip skimmed along the fabric that compressed my ribs into forming a tiny waist. “That’s better,” he growled into my ear.
My pussy clenched, throbbing as his fingertips stroked down to the edge of the corset and found a sliver of hot flesh. He fingered and teased it gently, drawing out each sensation to the fullest. When Grant was like this every touch became a delicate dance of seduction. He never made a move without a purpose, and all of it was honed into a perfected art that I knew was capable of bringing me to heights of passion and pleasure that I didn’t even know existed.
I purred as his hands parted the fabric of the dress and it shifted over my skin before sliding down the corset that encased my breasts and whittled my waist into the perfect hourglass that only added to the powerful and sexy way I’d felt when I’d put it on. Especially, when I thought about how he’d selected it just for me to wear for him.
I was about to shimmy out of my dress and reveal the entire outfit when something cold seized me.
Fear.
I turned and looked into his eyes as he inspected me. It was the same look I’d seen before, but there was an extra edge there that was new…and dangerous. I whipped my head back around, looking at the room, the bench and the chest of drawers. What things were inside those drawers? Whips? Chains? Barbs? The fresh memories of what I’d seen…and heard…on the opposite side of the club started ringing in my ears. Bitch. Harder, you whore. The sound of the whip slapping bared breasts, the degrading positions and names, the array of tools and toys displayed on racks, waiting to be used to inflict pain…and pleasure? Was that even possible?
When Grant had restrained me, the cuffs had burned a little, but it hadn’t hurt. And at no point had I thought that was what he was after, what excited him. But now? I didn’t know anymore and the room was starting to shrink in around me. My heart raced as I looked back over my shoulder, wishing so desperately to be able to read his mind and find what he wanted from me.
Grant’s eyes found mine and something shifted, the hard edge, the hunger I’d seen moments before, ebbed slightly.
I wanted him. That was undeniable. So what was the problem? Wasn’t this what I’d asked for?
I wished I knew.
Grant stopped, sensing my hesitation. “Are you okay?”
My heart slammed against my chest and I heard heavy panting that took me another moment to recognize as my own. I was on the verge of a panic attack and I needed air. Fresh, cold, peaceful air.
I pushed away from Grant, as though he was suddenly made of fire and I’d burned myself on his skin. “I can’t.”
There was a flicker behind his dark eyes—disappointment.
I hated my panic even more and tried to stuff it down, mentally berating myself, telling myself the crazy excuses I thought I needed to hear.
I’d never felt more mixed up in my life. It was like someone had taken every human emotion, threw them into a blender, and ran it on pulse for a minute and a half. There was a fluid—yet confusing—line from one feeling to the next, and I couldn’t stick with one long enough to figure out what I really wanted to do.
Grant took a step towards me, closing the gap between us. I let him gather me into his arms and collapsed against his chest as I struggled to regulate my sharp breaths.
“I’m sorry,” I whispered, my voice barely audible, even though the room was silent and we were standing so close it would have been impossible to fit a matchbook between our bodies.
Grant gripped me tightly but didn’t say a word, which only made me feel worse. I had to know what he was thinking. I couldn’t bear the thought of him hating me. I’d been a colossal tease, demanding that he bring me here, and then chickening out as soon as we were alone. I knew I didn’t make any sense, and although he was too kind to ever say so, I could almost feel the frustration radiating from him. “Grant, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right. I told you, if this was too much—”
I swallowed hard, forcing myself to bat back the tears and smile. “No, no. It’s not that.”
He backed away so he could see my face. He knew I was lying.
“I’m fine, really.” I forced another spark of life into the false smile on my face.
I could tell he didn’t believe me. He was so devastatingly perfect. In that moment, looking into his concerned, furrowed brow, I knew that he didn’t want to hurt me. I also knew that I’d broken his rule to trust him. That was all he’d asked of me…and I’d failed.
My emotions were still at war, tangled inside my chest, but I knew what I wanted. I wanted him.
I ran my hands up his chest, sliding under the thick fabric of his jacket and toyed with the top button on his crisp linen shirt. He grabbed my hands and brought them up to his lips. He kissed each one and locked his eyes with mine. “Megan, you don’t have to pretend with me. I want you, you. Not the version of you that you think I want to see. Just you.”
Something inside twisted and I couldn’t hold back the tears anymore. I smiled up at him through the rush of emotion swelling inside of my chest and nodded. “Okay.”
“Come on, let’s get out of here.” He zipped up the side of my dress without another word, and led me by the hand out of the room without another glance, but as we stepped through the door, I cast one last glance around the room and wondered if I would ever be comfortable in this part of his world.
Grant took me out of the club and back to the street where he’d parked his car. The night air was cold against my skin, and I took a moment to breathe the clear air void of the heavy musk scent that had filled the rooms of Fuego. After my breathing returned to normal and my heart no longer felt like it was going to jump at the slightest touch, I nestled closer to Grant to absorb the heat that always poured from his body. The atmosphere between us had changed, and I couldn’t decide if it was a good or a bad thing. Grant helped me into the passenger seat and let his gaze linger on my legs as I swept them inside the car. When I caught him staring he offered a wolfish smile, and my heart raced again, knowing that things were going to be fine.
Probably way better than fine.
Chapter Six — Grant
I should have known better. I had known better.
What was I thinking? It was what anxiety and worry had been telling me all along—if only I’d slowed down long enough to listen. Instead, I’d bull-rushed in and pushed her too far. I was one lucky fucker that she was still speaking to me after what I’d dragged her through.
I took Megan back across town to my condo, doing my best to control my frustration as I drove. With each passing mile, I fumed a lit
tle bit more, and the anger I was putting off had suffocating the tiny spark of flirtation that had lit up as I’d helped Megan into the car. I wasn’t angry at Megan—not at all—I was mad at myself for pushing her too hard, too fast. I cut a glance at her and found her watching me, and from the look in her eyes, I knew she could sense my mood and was fearful that it was her doing. She chewed on her lower lip and quickly looked away from me. I looked down her body and noted her fingers wringing together in her lap. I reached over and stilled her nervous hands before saying, “I’m not angry.”
She flipped back to look at me again, her eyes wide and challenging.
I sighed. “Fuego’s not for everyone. I get that.”
Her lips parted, and I knew there was another question waiting for me, but then, just as quickly, she silenced it and looked back out the window after giving a slight nod to confirm that she’d heard me.
“Megan?”
“Hmm?” She turned back to me and let her head rest on the seat behind her. Her features were tight with worry and I hated myself for making her feel anything but sexy—and beautiful.
“What are you thinking?” It wasn’t a question I normally asked, I’d learned a long time ago how to read people. It was a skill my father had drilled into me from a young age. To be successful in business, you had to know what people wanted, and then, it was simply a matter of meeting that need in such a way that you stood to make a profit. However, Megan continued to be a mystery to me. She had a way of throwing a shadow over herself, blocking her thoughts and emotions from me. But there were also moments—like the one I’d witnessed in the club—where she couldn’t hold it back anymore and it all spilled out in a muddled display.
She studied me, and I wondered if she was weighing her options, trying to decide what the best thing to say would be, so I added, “Be honest. You’ve shot straight with me since the beginning, so there’s no point to hiding now.”
“Right,” she said, giving me another small nod. “I guess, I’m just wondering what it is about this life…that life…that is so attractive to you.”
It was a fair question, and I knew I owed her the answer. I took a deep breath and told her how I’d originally been invited and gave her a brief history of my experiences there—leaving out the grimy details.
As I concluded the story, I confessed, “I first started going to Fuego when I was in a fragile state of mind. A lot of things in my life felt chaotic and out of control. My first night there, I’d seen things and heard things…things that I’d never experienced before, and it resonated with me. It’s not something that’s core to who I am. I like to dominate and be in control when I’m with someone, but I’m not deep into the lifestyle. It started as more of an outlet, something different to…release the pressure of my normal life.”
“And now?” She asked. She licked her lips, but it wasn’t done for seduction, it was more of a nervous twitch. “What does it mean to you now?”
I checked the road ahead of me, using the beat away from her searching eyes to try and think clearly. “I don’t know anymore. Things are different now.”
“Different how?”
I turned my eyes back on her, drinking in her beauty and fire. She was more relaxed and the heat between us was starting to build on the intensity of the intimate conversation. “They’re different because of you, Megan.”
The words sucked all other sounds out of the air for a moment as we each processed what I’d said.
“Did I ruin it for you?” She asked.
“No, no. That’s not what I meant. I don’t care whether you like Fuego or hate Fuego. That’s not what’s important to me right now.”
“What is?” She asked, her voice so small and quiet that I could barely hear it.
“You are.”
I broke away contact from her only long enough to park the car along the curb in front of my building. Before I could say anything else, a valet was opening Megan’s door and escorting her from the car. I jumped out of my side and raced around to hand off the keys. I took Megan’s hand and she let me lead her upstairs.
We set aside the heavy conversation long enough for me to make a pot of coffee and order up some snacks. I hadn’t eaten since lunch, and in the process of making the coffee, Megan had confessed that she hadn’t been able to eat all day. I didn’t know what the rest of the night would hold, but if I had things my way, she was going to need her strength.
We made light and easy conversation as we nibbled from the platter of assorted gourmet cheeses and fruit slices. I knew the conversation from the car wasn’t over, and that we would still need time to process through the events of the evening, but I was happy to see her smile again and to have things back on solid ground between us.
“Big plans for the weekend?” I asked her.
She smiled up at me and toyed with the handle of her coffee mug. “Nothing much.”
I nodded, wondering which words to use to get her to stay the night in my bed.
“You know, there is one thing about tonight that we still haven’t talked about,” she said after a beat. I stilled, waiting for her to drop a bomb. She was still wearing a lazy grin, but there was seriousness in her eyes as she stared at me over the rim of her mug. “I got all dressed up—and believe me, without a spare pair of hands, it wasn’t easy—and you haven’t even seen the outfit you picked out for me.”
My heart flew into my throat and my cock twitched alive at her suggestive words and went rock hard as soon as I saw the way her pouted lips melted into a heart stopping smile. “That does sound pretty criminal. How about we fix that?”
She nodded her head slowly and although somewhere in the back of my mind, a small voice was nagging at me, I was still curious as to what she was really thinking and feeling. The sound was quickly drowned out at the rushing of blood in my ears.
I lunged for Megan and gathered her hungrily into my arms. This time, I wasn’t going to give her space to change her mind. She squealed with delight as I ravaged her neck with fierce kisses and small nibbling bites. It was as though I hadn’t even realized how much I wanted her, until she was in my arms like that, every inch of her pressed up against every inch of me. In one sweep, I released the zipper on the side of her dress, and she shoved down the straps like she had before, at the club. The dress dropped from her chest and slowly skimmed every luscious curve as it slid from her body and fell to the floor in a pool of fabric.
“Oh fuck,” I gasped, my heart clenching in my chest at the sight of her.
When I’d selected the outfit, I’d been imagining her wearing it, but even my wildest, most seductive dream was nothing compared to the reality of her standing before me. I’d always preferred black lingerie but with Megan, her raven black hair had made me change my mind, to a deep red garment that transformed her into an absolute temptress.
As though she could read my mind, she reached behind her head and tugged a shiny black clasp out of her hair and released the soft waves to fall past her shoulders. She shook her hair loose and I was lost. Lost in her. Her body, her curves, her perfect skin, her pink lips, and her deep, dark eyes.
“Fuck. Megan,” I repeated, still unable to get anything else out of my mouth.
She was stunning. The ribbing of the corset was supple black leather, and the cups were a deep, devil red. The tight laces were cinched perfectly, drawing in her already small waist to a mesmerizing hourglass shape, and the architecture of the piece pushed her tits up to gravity defying heights. The sliver of skin showing between the edge of the corset and the scalloped edge of the matching thong panties was taught and smooth. I wanted to start there and slide my tongue south, between the sweet pussy lips that were hiding beneath. Her legs looked long, covered up to mid thigh with black stockings that hooked to the black garter belt that she wore low on her hips.
I needed to taste her. I could smell her excitement in the air as she watched me, soaking her in. I wanted to see every inch so that it could all be committed to memory.
I smiled at her, feeling absolutely wild, and without a word, swept her into my arms and carried her over my shoulder towards the bedroom.
“Oh my God! Grant! What, are you some kind of caveman now?”
I smiled but didn’t answer, other than a swift slap to her bare ass cheek.
She squealed and I knew she was smiling without even seeing her. She made me feel playful and animalistic all at once, and I had no idea how I was going to find the patience to do everything that I wanted to do to her, before I plunged deep inside her tight pussy and let myself explode.
Inside the bedroom, I threw her down on the bed where she landed on the plush comforter. She writhed as I stared at her, contemplating where to begin her torture and delight. She rubbed her thighs together, as though admiring the way her beautiful legs looked in the dark stockings.
“You’re gorgeous, Megan.”
She looked up at me, her eyes shining with a naughty glint. “The outfit helps.”
I laughed and shook my head. “That outfit was made for you.”
She looked down and ran her fingertips along the leather, as though just seeing it for the first time. When she brought her eyes back to mine, another question had formed behind them. “You had it made for tonight?”
I nodded, confirming her assumption, unsure of the root of worry on her face.
“I didn’t realize…Grant, I’m sorry.”