Bound For Me

by Natalie Anderson

  Her skin chilled. “You don’t want to be obsessed with me?” She tried to make a joke of it.

  But she was the one who’d get obsessed. It was in the blood.

  “I can’t afford to be obsessed by anyone. There’s too much else I have to do.”

  Work? She didn’t want to believe that of him—that he was actually an honest hard worker. That he’d fought to get to where he was. That he had some decency. She’d wanted to blame him for her father’s fuck-ups. But getting to know him? Already she suspected he wasn’t all the villain she’d imagined. “Why don’t you jack off?”

  “You think I haven’t?” he laughed under his breath. “I close my eyes. I see you. But it’s not the same. I don’t want to touch myself, I want to touch you. So I’m proposing an arrangement.”

  “An arrangement?” She cocked her head. “What do I get out of it? Think carefully before you answer.”

  “I’m not crass enough to offer you money. Or access to my father. Your access to all things Summerhill is already a given and is separate from this.”

  “But if it’s just sex you’re offering, I can get that anytime. From others.”

  His nostrils thinned. “Like playing with fire, don’t you?” He leaned in close. “This isn’t just sex. This is blow your mind. Best ever. However you want it. Dirty, hard, hot, fast. You want to be the boss of me? You want to best me? In this you can.”

  Heat speared through her. Challenge. Power. Desire. “You’ll fulfil my sexual fantasies?”

  “Every one.”

  He was a walking, talking fantasy already. As far as an ‘arrangement’ went, it didn’t seem a bad deal. “Confident, aren’t you,” she drawled.

  “You already know I can please you.”

  She sent him a look.

  “You don’t want a relationship either,” he added with a laugh. “You don’t trust easily. Not enough to let go. Not often. And this isn’t going to involve emotions, Sugar.”

  Saw a lot, didn’t he? It made her wary—she wanted to ensure there was a balance of power. “This isn’t just about pleasing me, why is it so important to you?” she challenged.

  “I don’t trust easily either… but I find myself wanting…”

  She was pleased he didn’t deny its importance to him. “You’re not afraid of what I might do?”

  “You won’t hurt me or my company.”

  “You’re certain of that?”

  He nodded.

  “Why won’t I?”

  He smiled. “Because you’re going to see Summerhill for yourself. And once you’ve seen it…” he let the sentence hang, utter confidence in his demeanor. “You don’t have to trust me in everything. But in this, in terms of satisfaction, you already do. Use me as you’d like.” He offered. “Whatever, however, you want.”

  He was an absolute distraction. But he’d also promised her full access to Summerhill.

  Two birds, one stone? She could work with that.

  “I’ll meet you out front in five,” she said. “You can give me a ride in your big car.”

  “The car again, really?” he winced.

  “It’s that or nothing.”

  “Are you afraid of letting me into your apartment?” he asked. “Is that too intimate for you?”

  She glared at him.

  But he, darn him, lifted his tee again. “Did you see these bruises?”

  “If you’re not up to it…” she shrugged. Then swiftly relented. “Okay fine. My apartment. But you leave when I tell you to.”

  She’d have an hour with him, tops.

  “Sure. I’ll move when you tell me to. Come when you tell me to. Fuck when you tell me to.” He stepped up and pressed his lips to hers in the lightest, quickest, tease of a kiss. “That’s the thing, Sugar. In this I’ll do whatever you want.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The large black SUV was parked—illegally—right outside St Clair’s. She pointedly looked at the no-parking sign, then at his car. “I guess when you own the town, the little laws don’t apply to you, huh?”

  She saw the flash of his smile, then the car beeped as he unlocked it. “Coming, Sugar?”

  He so meant that juvenile innuendo. And she so responded.

  “When I’m ready.”

  And that wasn’t going to be as soon as he expected.

  This was different from the other night. She knew who he was. And she knew how potent he was. She couldn’t deny her desire for him, couldn’t walk away just yet. But she could control the level of her response.

  She sat silently, plotting, as he drove to her apartment. She ruled out the bedroom—for all her talk of chains. It was too intimate. She’d have him in the lounge with the lights on so she could read his expression and enjoy—and soothe—his body. And she’d disable his power.

  “Come in,” she invited, putting extra sultry into her tone.

  He stared silently, ferociously, at her and waited.

  “Stand in here.”

  He walked into the room with an arrogant swagger. “Here?” he questioned, standing three paces from the center of the room. “Or should I take one more step to the middle?”

  “You were the one who offered himself as fantasy fulfiller,” she answered coolly. “So don’t question, just do.”

  The heat in his eyes flared.

  Her body almost combusted.

  “I want to see you,” she said, suddenly feeling fiercely free. She’d do what she wanted. Take what she wanted. “Take off your clothes. All of them.”

  She helped him with the tee-shirt. He tried to hide it, but it was obvious that lifting his arms hurt him. Slowly he shucked his shoes, his jeans, his boxers. Until he stood, butt naked, battered. And freaking beautiful.

  He’d obeyed her, but the burning challenge in his eyes was what turned her on most of all.

  She walked up to him, her fingers tingling. Her pulse frantic. She reached out, very, very gently.

  “Don’t treat me like I’m a damn flower,” he gritted.

  “I’ll treat you how I want,” she answered back with a smile.

  She heard his sharp inhalation.

  She laughed softly. “You were the one who promised…”

  He didn’t answer and she resumed her feather-light exploration of him.

  It was like she’d been let lose in a sculpture museum after hours and she could get her hands on Michelangelo’s masterpieces… only this perfect statue was living, breathing and warm.

  And not quite perfect.

  “Where’d you get the scar?” She traced her finger along the rough-edged, jagged line that sliced down the outside of his left thigh.

  “Accident on the mountain. I nearly died.”

  He said it so matter of factly, she knew it was truth not exaggeration.

  “What happened?”

  “My brother and I were training. I crashed badly. Logan, my brother, pointed his skis straight down a sheer cliff and went to fetch help. He saved me.”

  “How long were you out there?”

  “A lifetime.”

  “Is it sensitive?”

  “I’ve lost sensation in part of the area….” he trailed off with another sharp inhalation of breath.

  She’d swept her fingers inwards, to his inner thigh and up, to cup his heavy balls. Testing their weight. And then she wrapped her hand around his shaft.

  “Careful.”

  “Always.” She stroked a couple times, enjoying the velvet steel feel of him, then released him, moving her attention higher to the bruises.

  She didn’t touch them with her fingertips. Instead she bent and brushed her lips very, very lightly over them.

  She felt his shiver. “Too sore?”

  “No. Too good.”

  It was then that her desire exploded.

  She stepped back. “Sit on my sofa.”

  “You gonna straddle me?” he asked as he moved and sat in the center of the large sofa.

  “And make it that easy for you?”

  �
�Let me kiss you,” he muttered, lifting his hands towards her as she moved to stand between his gently spread legs.

  As much as she wanted him to, she couldn’t let that happen yet. “Soon. I want to kiss you first.”

  And she did. Along the breath of his shoulders, down the plane of his chest, to each nipple. She licked down the line of hair that led to his jutting cock.

  And then she licked that.

  So good. She wrapped her hand round the base of him and licked again.

  Damn it. She was never going to get enough. She moaned and pressed close, needed to kiss him—to taste.

  “You’re feeling okay?” he asked.

  “Of course I am.” She pumped her hand down his shaft. “You’re the one covered in bruises.” She paused to look up at him, then rose on her knees, gently brushing her lips over the ugly markings again.

  “I was worried about you,” he muttered.

  “I’m fine.”

  “I can see that.” He shuddered as she tightened her grip on him. “You’re gorgeous.”

  “So are you.”

  He grunted a rough laugh. “I was joking about the reward…” he breathed harshly. “You don’t have to—”

  He broke off as she bent and ran her tongue from the root of his cock all the way to the slit at the tip.

  “Shut up,” she told him bluntly. “I want to. I want to see all of your body. Taste all of it.”

  She needed to kiss, to touch, to tease. So she did—sweeping open-mouthed kisses over him, spreading light strokes of her fingertips over his straining skin.

  “Savannah,” he breathed. “You need to stop that.”

  She lifted her head, let her hands keep stroking. “Just shut up and come.”

  “That’s what you want?”

  “As much as you do.”

  His lips twisted. “You have no fucking idea how much I want. If you did, you wouldn’t be—” he broke off with a groan.

  She sucked him in as deep as she could. Working her hands as well, she sucked and pulled.

  So delicious. So big. And in this moment, hers.

  She felt the restless, uncontrolled rhythm of his hips increase. Felt the tension coiling within him. So she moved faster. Sucked harder. As fast and as hard as she liked it herself—ruthlessly efficient.

  Passionate.

  He thrust his hands in her hair, mussing it as he arched up in release.

  “Oh. Yessssssssss.” He hissed as his pleasure spurted into her throat. He groaned. “Hurts so good.”

  He fell back on the sofa, breathing hard. “I can’t… Thank you.” He groaned again. “Wasn’t supposed to happen like that.”

  “Says who?” She stood up in front of him. “Wasn’t this meant to be what I wanted? That was what I wanted.”

  “That wasn’t all you wanted.” He sat up a little and eyeballed her. He suddenly moved, shackling her wrists with his big hands.

  She glanced down at them pointedly. “What are you doing?”

  “Inviting you to sit on the sofa with me” He tugged on her wrists.

  Weak-kneed woman that she was, she sat.

  As soon as she did, he moved. Standing, turning, straddling until he knelt on the sofa, one knee either side of her. Her mouth parted, Savannah could only gaze upon the very hot, very naked man holding himself above her lap.

  He was hard again. She should have known he’d be that resilient and have the stamina of an athlete.

  He ran his finger down the side of her neck. “Your hair is always so perfect, even when you wear it loose. I like messing it up.”

  Her breasts tightened. She swallowed.

  He smiled.

  And he touched, gentle sweeps over her shoulders, then her breasts. She wanted him to move faster.

  He smiled again. Bent and kissed—not her mouth, but her neck. She blew out a tense breath, tilted her head. Wanted more.

  He slid his hand beneath the waistband of her skirt. Beneath the waistband of her panties. She shifted, trying to give him room to go lower, to curl into her curves.

  She felt his smile as he kissed up and down her neck in a way designed to send her insane.

  “You want me inside you?” he asked her.

  Tempted her.

  More than anything. But she couldn’t. She’d want too much. Be too tempted to take everything he could offer and still want more.

  “Your tongue,” she requested. Heat burned her cheeks. “Kiss me.”

  She’d meant him to kiss her mouth. She was so close to getting off even with just the pressure of his palm on her mound.

  But he carefully rolled. Sliding down to the floor to kneel where she’d knelt earlier, he reached under her skirt and pulled her panties down.

  Hell, it was a sexy sight. All that strong, naked man before her? Peeling her clothing away to expose her to him?

  He glanced up at her and smiled like he knew she was getting off on the sight of him again.

  He kissed up her thigh. Hot, lush, hungry kisses. “How wet am I going to find you, Sugar? How hot are you already?”

  So hot.

  He lashed her intimate curve with his tongue and groaned in delight. “That wet.” He licked her again. “That’s good. But it can be better. Let’s make it better. Ride my tongue, Sugar,” he muttered quick and rough. “Ride hard.”

  So she did, rocking fast to match the rhythm he suddenly set.

  Always fast and hard with him.

  Savannah clawed the soft cushions beside her, stopping herself from reaching out to grab him. But her hips lifted, bucking into his face until he firmly gripped her hip, holding her still enough so he could keep the slippery onslaught of his hot mouth. Then he added his fingers to her torment. And she had no chance. She threw her head back.

  “I want to kiss you too,” she cried out. She needed something to do. Some kind of action. “I need to—”

  To have some control over this. All the control.

  “69” she called desperately. “Now.”

  The bastard just chuckled. “You want to suck me off some more? You didn’t get enough already?”

  No. And that’s what she was afraid of. That she’d never get enough of his body.

  “I don’t trust you just at this moment, Sugar.” He laughed again, his hot breath tickling her sex. “You’re so close to losing it, you might bite.”

  She arched up, a raw cry ripping from her throat as he pumped his fingers deeper into her. “If you dare stop, I will.”

  He bent and worked his tongue again.

  And Savannah was gone.

  One blinding orgasm later, she was so warm and so relaxed. But hunger licked. Needling her. It would roar to life in less than a minute.

  Which meant it was time for her to move.

  Chapter Twelve

  “Crawl into my arms and let me make you come again, Sugar.” Connor reached out and wrapped his hand around her wrist. “I won’t go inside you, unless you ask me to. I’ll just tease.” He wanted to touch her some more. Hold her close, properly. As glorious as the last twenty minutes had been, they weren’t enough.

  “No. I’m tired. It’s time for you to leave.” She twisted her arm, freeing herself from his loose hold.

  He watched as she stood and walked away from him, pulling her skirt back down.

  She’d not even been naked.

  He hauled himself to his feet and carefully started to dress. Satisfied—yes, in part. But he was wholly stunned. Having her on her knees totally hadn’t been how he’d imagined this night would go. He’d thought she’d take, instead, she’d sought to satisfy him first.

  It was unexpectedly sweet. And so damn sexy.

  “You’re satisfied?” he asked, cupping her jaw as she stood by the door, so pointedly waiting for him to leave.

  But he wasn’t quite ready to.

  She nodded. “And tired. Goodbye.”

  She shut the conversation down. No post-coital cuddles wanted, huh? Nor any sleepy, intimate conversation. But like she didn’
t want more sex?

  He’d heard her moan as he’d licked inside her. He’d tasted her wet heat. And he’d watched the way her fingers had curled into the cushions.

  She’d been holding herself back.

  He’d rather have born her scratches on his back. He’d rather she pulled him into her with the ferocity she’d shown the other night. He’d wanted to feel her raw, abandoned passion again.

  And he’d wanted to be inside her more than he’d ever wanted anything. Still did.

  He was more than happy to stand for her. To be the stud and provide the physical release she needed. Because he needed it too. He’d denied himself too long. But now he wanted to take the pleasure everyone else did and he needed a woman who was his match. As strong. As determined. This battle had the edge he needed. That she wouldn’t let him inside her showed just how strong she was. Because she’d wanted him, badly. Breathlessly.

  Yet she was resisting it.

  And he wasn’t about to take what she wasn’t willing or ready to give.

  Something had changed. It wasn’t that she knew who he was. It was something else. He didn’t know what. But he’d find out.

  “You want me to send a car for you in the morning?” he asked.

  She sent him one of her best iced-up looks.

  “I’ll fetch you myself but we might get… distracted… again before getting there,” he winked.

  “I can make my own way.”

  Of course she could.

  “Great,” he smiled at her, knowing it would antagonise her. “You’re going to love it.”

  Connor barely slept. His cock was so hard it hurt more than his all-but smashed ribs. He spent the night thinking about her, trying to figure out her agenda. Trying not to let her few barbs pierce him. She’d mocked his ‘honor’, mocked his work ethic. Mocked pretty much everything about him. Until she’d mastered his body. Then she’d moaned. Then she’d tasted every inch of him in a frenzy, like he was delicious, forbidden fruit that she had to devour before it was taken from her.

  As light pieced the sky, he reached out for his phone and touched the screen.

  “Logan.”

  “Connor.” His brother groaned. “Jeez, we’re gonna need to change the time you call, buddy.”