She figured that last thought qualified her for an MU degree—Master of Understatement.
The man looked like sin walking. Easily over six feet tall, probably six two or six three, his impressive muscles were even more intimidating up close. His thick, dark hair looked black in the dim light and fell in unruly waves over his forehead. He needed a cut, and she almost wished she had a styling license just to have an excuse to run her fingers through that hair.
His eyes, so dark they appeared black, laughed down at her, though his luscious, chiseled lips remained firm in his granite-hewn face.
She opened her mouth to speak, but he tightened the hand on her hip just a little, enough to distract her from what she’d been about to say.
“I had hoped you would allow me to buy you a drink,” the dark voice rumbled again, and Reggie saw something more than amusement in Mr. YumYum’s black, bedroom eyes. Under the glint of humor, his gaze was watchful and intense and blazing with heat. Reggie did not consider herself the type of girl who let strange men pick her up in bars. Still, she had enough sense to regret that while she stared up at him and unthinkingly licked her lips.
The stranger’s eyes blazed hotter, and his hand on her hip shifted to bring her closer. The action managed to snap Reggie out of her daze.
She scrambled to regain her equilibrium—something she’d never had a problem with before Tall, Dark, and Sinful had shown up—and turned to face him. “I never let strange men buy me drinks. You never know which one might be the next Jack the Ripper.”
His mouth quirked up at one corner. “I promise I have no fondness for dark alleys, nor for prostitutes. But if it would make you feel better, you may buy me a drink instead.”
She thought that might prove to be just as dangerous. “Um, I suppose I should thank you for the offer, Mr…. whoever you are, but I don’t think so.”
She attempted to step back, to reinforce her words with some distance—a buffer zone against his enormous sex appeal—but the stranger held on tight and merely smiled at her.
“Dmitri,” he murmured, that wickedly amused look she’d noticed earlier back on his face. “My name is Dmitri Vidâme. And you have not, really.”
Dmitri. Well, that went with the sexy hit of Slavic in his accent, but the last name had sounded almost French.
“I haven’t what?” she asked.
“Thanked me.”
It took a struggle, but Reggie managed to overcome her desire to melt at the sight of his sexy, mischievous smile and forced her eyes to roll instead. “For offering to ‘let’ me buy you a drink? That’s not the sort of offer that inspires me to thank you by inviting you back to my place and showing you my naked gratitude.”
Dmitri chuckled, a rough, rumbling sound that rasped over her senses like the tongue of a great big cat. “I had not thought you should. I was merely giving you the opportunity to voice your thanks in the conventional manner. But if you prefer to do this while naked”—his eyebrows shot up, and his grin deepened—“it would be rude of me to gainsay you, no?”
Reggie blushed. Even though she’d brought up the whole naked thing, somehow the idea sounded a lot more wicked on his lips than it ever had on hers. Maybe it was the rough, gravelly sound of his voice or the faint, exotic accent, but somehow Reggie thought those were probably the least of his seductive weapons.
She cleared her throat and again tried to step back. Again his hand tightened on her hip, but this time it was joined by its mate. Both hands slid over the warm silk of her corset and settled possessively at the small of her back. He drew her even closer.
Reggie looked down to see she’d somehow been led without her notice. Dmitri had backed up until he sat at the bar again, and he pulled her to him until she stood between his spread legs, close enough to smell the earthy, spicy scent of him. She took a deep, involuntary breath, savoring his fragrance, until his chuckle broke the spell, and her eyes snapped open.
She didn’t even remember when she’d closed them.
“Look, Mr. Vidâme, why don’t I go back to my friends and you can go back to your friend?” She blurted out the suggestion, which just showed her nerves had gotten out of control. This man could easily turn her into a babbling idiot…if it wasn’t already too late. “I saw him talking to you earlier—”
“Misha.”
“—and I’m sure the two of you had plans for…huh?” She stopped, the gorgeous friend forgotten.
“You should not call me Mr. Vidâme, Regina,” he instructed. “You should call me Dmitri, at the very least. Though I would prefer you call me Misha. It is a nickname. A term of endearment.”
He said it as if he wanted to become dear to her.
Reggie shook her head to clear out the cobwebs she could feel forming. “Wait. How did you know my name? You couldn’t have heard my friends over the music.”
“Actually, I have exceptional hearing, but your friends only called you by that horrid nickname. Reggie is a name for a man, not for one so obviously a woman.” His eyes roamed over her in frank appreciation. “Nor one so beautiful.”
Reggie blushed at his compliment, which only made her madder. “Don’t try and sweet-talk me, buster. I’ve had enough of that kind of crap. In fact, I’ve had enough of this conversation. Now take your hands off me.”
Dmitri raised an eyebrow and lifted his hands from her hips, holding his palms up so she could see they no longer restrained her. “You are always free to go, Regina. If that is truly your wish.”
She didn’t trust the velvet purr in his voice, nor the amused expression on his face. She took a step backward.
Or, to be precise, she tried to take a step backward. She pictured herself taking a step backward. She could practically feel the impulse running down the nerve endings from her brain to her legs, but her feet remained stubbornly motionless. Since she’d already shifted her weight backward in anticipation of that step, she nearly fell on her ass.
She teetered for a moment, on the verge of an embarrassing thump, and reached out to steady herself. Instead of catching the cool wood of the bar, her hands caught the solid warmth of Dmitri’s thighs, encased in soft, black denim. As soon as she steadied herself, she snatched her hands back as if they burned.
They only tingled.
“What the hell is going on?”
Dmitri shrugged. “I did as you asked, dushka. I have taken my hands off you. I have told you that you are free to go.” He leaned closer to her until she could feel his breath brush her skin. “You must not want to leave me.”
“Bullshit,” Reggie said, trying to cover her growing unease. “You’ve done something to me, and I want to know what the hell it is. No, actually, I don’t care what you’re doing, I just want you to stop it and let me go.”
She braced her hands against his legs and pushed, but her feet remained stubbornly glued to the floor. Dmitri leaned forward, and she turned her head, straining to get away. One large, masculine hand touched her hip and trailed up her side, skirting the outside of her breast until it closed over her chin, gently but firmly turning her back to face him. He forced her eyes to meet his, capturing her gaze and holding it as surely as he held her feet in place. Which she knew he was doing. Somehow.
“Do you really?” he murmured, nuzzling her cheek so a hint of stubble rasped against her skin. His other hand slid around her hip to rest in the small of her back and press her closer. His thighs tightened, and he surrounded her, held her caged and confined and unable to escape. She couldn’t even tear her gaze from his. His dark eyes restrained her as securely as his hands, drew her deeper until she wondered if it would be so bad to drown in those glittering, black pools.
Do you really want me to leave you?
Helpless, seduced, she felt her head slowly shake from side to side. No.
Dmitri smiled again, but this time the expression appeared dangerous and male and predatory, rather than amused. I thought not. You want to belong to me, Regina, as much as I want you to be mine.
His
voice rumbled over her, around her, until it was the only thing in her universe, the only thing other than his hands and his skin and his dark, dark eyes. Yet even as he spoke to her, she could see the play of desire and satisfaction on his lips. Lips that never moved.
Reggie froze, her eyes going wide, her lips parting, and her breath grinding to a halt. “Oh, my God,” she whispered, still unable to move, but equally unable to believe she had heard this man speaking to her inside her head, had felt him holding her in place even when he ceased to touch her. “Who are you?”
His hand slid from her chin to cup her face, his fingers tangling in the soft silk of her hair. And still his eyes held hers, keeping her still and enthralled. “I have told you, dushka, I am Dmitri Vidâme. And I will be your lover.”
Chapter 4
Reggie couldn’t remember their last few minutes at the bar, but she remembered the feel of Dmitri’s palm on the bare skin between her shoulder blades. She didn’t remember saying goodbye to her friends, or paying for her drink, but she remembered his hands on her waist while he walked behind her and guided her through the crowd to the front door.
She didn’t remember the cab ride home, but she remembered the steely strength of Dmitri’s thighs beneath her as she sat on his lap and rested her head on his firm shoulder. She remembered his fingers cupping her breasts through the heavy silk of her corset, his thumbs making teasing swipes over her tight nipples.
She remembered one of those incredible hands drifting over her stomach and cupping possessively between her thighs, making her flesh tingle and throb beneath her leather pants, but she didn’t remember leaving the cab and entering her apartment building.
Her memory neglected to store the ride in the elevator up to her floor, or the long walk down the empty corridor to her apartment, but she would never forget the silent, overwhelming presence of the man who walked beside her.
She couldn’t recall unlocking her door, but she remembered the feel of Dmitri’s body, the heat of him when he crowded close behind her, urging her into the dark room and closing the door.
She remembered nothing until he flipped the switch on her bedside lamp and her consciousness turned on as well. She came back to herself in a flash and found herself standing in the middle of her bedroom with her nipples hard and her body aching and the hot, dark depths of his eyes threatening to swallow her whole.
“Oh, my God,” she said, taking a frightened step back. A surge of adrenaline made her tremble, and she locked her knees to keep from falling. “We’re in my apartment. I brought you to my apartment. I don’t do this kind of thing. I don’t understand what’s happening.”
His voice caressed her as surely as a touch. “There is no need to be afraid, Regina. What you have done in the past has no relevance here. All that happens this night happens only at your wish.”
She shook her head. “No. I didn’t wish this up. This is your idea. It must be.” Wrapping her arms around herself, she shivered.
Or did she tremble?
“What are you doing to me?”
“Only as you wish, dushka,” Dmitri murmured, prowling toward her in the dim light. “Only what pleases you.”
She retreated from him, shaking her head. “You can’t be real. This can’t be real. I must have made you up, because no one could possibly do what you’re doing to me.”
“What am I doing to you, Regina?”
Making me want to beg for your touch.
She ignored her thought. “You’re scaring me.”
That sounded like a much safer response.
Dmitri moved closer, and she retreated. They danced those same steps over and over until he backed her into the smooth wood of her bedroom door, and Reggie had nowhere else to go.
He leaned close. “It is not fear that causes your heart to race, milaya.” He reached out, making her jerk back nervously, but he just brushed a stray tendril of hair from her face and held her gaze with his. “It is not fear that makes your breath quick and your mouth dry. It is not fear that tightens your nipples and dampens your panties. It is want.”
Reggie’s thighs clenched. His words made her hotter than she’d been the last time she’d come, and he wasn’t even touching her.
“You can’t be doing this to me,” she said, hoping she could make the words true by speaking them. “This can’t happen.”
Dmitri chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that resonated in her head and her heart and deep inside her womb.
“You will be amazed by all the things that can happen, milaya, if you will just let go and trust me.”
Let go. God, when had she ever let go? Regina McNeill had been raised a good girl by good parents in a good neighborhood in southern Connecticut, and all that goodness came with rules. There had always been rules in her life, and Reggie had always followed them. Do your homework. Play nice. Look both ways. Say “please” and “thank you.” Wash your hands before dinner.
All her life, Reggie had let other people make the rules and never thought to protest. Yet here she was about to break the biggest rule of them all: never take candy from strangers.
Dmitri Vidâme was like candy, a big chocolate truffle standing in front of her, looking as rich as cream and as sweet as sin. If she reached her hand out to him, what would happen? Could she have a taste and remain untouched? Unchanged? Or would he bring on an addiction she couldn’t fight? He seemed prepared to offer her all the forbidden delights she’d never had the nerve to ask for.
Power and submission. Pain and pleasure. Struggle and release.
He tempted her, shamelessly. Like the serpent in the Garden.
Like the devil himself.
Reggie wanted it so badly she scared herself, and a frightened Reggie was a belligerent Reggie.
“Trust you?” she scoffed, stiffening her spine and glaring up at him. “I don’t even know you! I just picked you up in a bar. You could be anyone. Or any thing. How am I supposed to trust you?”
God, she sounded like her parents, her aunts, her uncles, her teachers. Everyone who had ever told her to be ashamed to want certain things. Only bad girls wanted those things.
She braced herself for his anger, almost hoped for it. If he were angry, maybe she wouldn’t want so badly to rip off all her clothes and jump him. Better to push him away than to risk being dragged under with him.
She was glad she could still speak her mind though. It comforted her to know no matter what this weird power he had over her, he hadn’t turned her into some mindless sex drone. As long as she could still recognize herself, her fear stopped short of panic and terror.
Dmitri smiled, not an angry roar in sight. “You make excuses for yourself, Regina. Yet even as you do so, you know in your heart that the point is moot. Part of you already trusts me, or I would not be here. You would not have invited me into your home. Into your bed.”
She resented the way his voice could make her ache for him. “I invited you into my bed, huh? Is that what I’ve done? It’s funny, because I don’t seem to recall saying that little thing.”
“You do not have to speak for me to know your desires, dushka. I know precisely what you want, for it is what I want as well.”
Knowing you want to tie me down and fuck me until my brain explodes is hardly comforting, buster.
Tamping down her wayward thoughts, she opened her eyes wide and batted her lashes up at him. “Really? You want an end to world hunger and a 1968 Jaguar sedan in British racing green?”
“You should be careful not to sass me too much, Regina Elaina.” All at once, the three inches between their bodies became no inches, and he cupped his hands around her ass, kneading the flesh through the form-fitting leather. “I may have to punish you.”
Yes, please!
Reggie cursed herself and the hot surge of desire that flared at the thought. Instead of fear, his statement aroused nothing but her nipples and her curiosity. And her body. She couldn’t forget her body. No matter how hard she tried.
Her lips parted bef
ore she could stop them, and she was left to listen in horror when her tongue ran wild to tease the tiger. Had her body already taken the decision out of her hands? It certainly felt like it.
It felt like surrender.
“Oh, really?” She barely recognized her own voice for all the seductive purring. “And would you like to punish me, Dmitri?”
His eyes glinted, and his hands squeezed her ass. “As much as you would like to be punished, katyonak.”
“What does that mean?” And could he please give her a lengthy explanation so she’d have time to think of an escape route?
“Katyonak?”
“Yes.”
“It is an endearment. It means ‘kitten.’”
Something in Reggie melted, and this time it wasn’t even below her waistband. “Is that how you think of me? An innocent little kitten?”
He raised one hand to cup her face, lowered the other until his fingers slid between her ass cheeks and pressed against her leather-covered core from behind.
“An adventurous little kitten,” he corrected, flicking one finger over the smooth, hot leather, “bent on mischief. Soft and sensuous and filled with curiosity, but still just a bit skittish.”
With one hand on her face and his other hand cupping her through her increasingly uncomfortable leather pants, Reggie felt bound more tightly than iron shackles could have managed. This man had complete control over her body, and the look in his eyes told her he wanted it that way.
She trembled.
“Am I right, katyonak? Do I make you nervous?”
She trembled again, and her body shivered against his, bringing a very wicked smile to his lips. His hand pressed harder against her, and her folds spread for him, parting around the seam in the crotch of her pants. Suddenly even the thick leather seemed like no barrier at all.
He had the advantage, and he pressed it. The hand he hadn’t already buried between her legs slid down from her jaw to close around her throat, not squeezing, but circling it like a collar and pressing her head gently back against the door. The position forced her spine to straighten even further than the corset alone had managed, and she stood there, pinned between his hard body and the hard wood, unable to look at anything but him. Unable to feel anything but him.
One Bite with a Stranger Page 4