by Rynne Raines
She laughed, and he thought he might actually enjoy the sound of her laughter as much as her throaty screams. That would be a first. In his books, very little rivaled the sound of a good scream.
“You know you’re terribly sarcastic, right?”
“You don’t say?”
She made to playfully slap his chest, but he caught her wrist and jerked her closer. Their eyes met, and her amusement faded. Her pretty lips parted in an audible exhale, drawing his attention to them. Christ, he loved her lips. That bow-shaped mouth was made for sucking cock, he decided as a bolt of lust stabbed at his groin.
“I should really go,” she whispered in a sensible tone, but he didn’t miss the underlined regret.
“We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one.”
Her fine brow knitted, and she frowned. “You have to know the shit storm that’d come down on your head if someone even knew I was here, let alone half-naked and on your lap.”
He gently stroked his thumb along the inside of her wrist and studied her. Exactly how many times had she put the needs of others above her own? Many times, he decided. But how many of those others had actually deserved her selflessness? And how many men, dominant or otherwise, would be quick to exploit that characteristic in her?
“We both know I shouldn’t be here,” she said softly. “You’re a month away from becoming one of the few honest senators in a cabinet that’s been corrupt for far too long. You’re what’s best for the Senate.”
“Actually, I’m what’s best for you right now.”
She lifted her head and creased her brow.
“You’re a new submissive, Fiona.” He reached up and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “As your first Dominant, I feel a sense of responsibility to know you’re going to be okay. You’d mentioned visiting some of the clubs, alone I assume, which with your limited experience and knowledge isn’t a good idea.”
Her eyes turned to saucers. “Well, you’re not coming with me! It’d be scandalous enough if we were seen sharing a meal in a restaurant, let alone if we were spotted at a sex club.”
At how she whispered the last words, he smothered a smile. “I wasn’t suggesting going to a public club with you. I’m a member at a private club. One where discretion is highly valued. I could take you there tomorrow evening. You could meet some people and see what it’s all about. If you liked it, I could possibly arrange to sponsor you so you’d have your own membership when you got back from Maine. No strings attached. Then, you could come and go as you pleased, and you’d be safe.”
“You really don’t have to do all this.”
“I don’t have to. I want to. And it’s not only because of my Dom responsibility.” He grasped her chin and forced her to look at him. “Believe it or not, you’re likable.”
She grinned. “I like you, too.”
“Glad to hear it, but I should tell you my goodwill is hardly unmotivated.”
“Oh, of course. You’re a politician. No action or decision ever lacks motivation.”
He arched an eyebrow. Did his nervous little rabbit just sass him?
“I see you’re still curious about the versatility of my lap. We can easily fix that.” He grabbed her as if he might throw her over his legs and a burst of hysterical laughter bellowed out of her.
“Wait, wait! Please!” She giggled. “Please, just tell me what it is you want.”
“I want to own you.”
She fell completely silent.
“For as long as you are under this roof, I own you. And before you say anything, let me clarify.” He threaded his fingers into her hair and made a fist, not so tightly that it would jerk her head back but tight enough that she knew he meant business. “It means your body will be mine to do with as I please, whenever I please. To use you whenever I want to use you. You’ll also do as I ask, when I ask, and if you don’t, you can expect punishment. Think of this weekend as getting your feet wet if you want.”
Oh my. When Harrison continued to look at her in that calm, collected way that made butterflies twitch in her belly, Fiona realized he was entirely serious.
She stared. With everything that happened since she woke up this morning—the divorce, the mind-blowing, kinky sex, the fact that Harrison was a sexual Dominant—Fiona’s mind reeled. He wanted her to stay with him and submit to him for the duration of the weekend. Her heart started to pound so loudly in her ears she prayed that he couldn’t hear it, too. The urge to jump up and down with joy was strong, but she battled it back.
“What about the election?” she asked in a sensible tone. “What if someone found out?”
“Should you agree, I don’t plan to publicize our time together. I’d think you’re of a similar mind.”
“Of course. Yes, of course.”
“Then it’s not an issue, is it?”
She smiled. “You make it sound so simple.”
“I want you, Fiona. That’s the simple truth of it for me.”
She briefly closed her eyes and let the power of those words pour into her. Someone wanted her. No. Not just someone. An intelligent, handsome, and caring man wanted her. Didn’t she want him? Not to mention, all the knowledge and experience he offered? Maybe it was simple.
She swallowed. I can’t believe I’m saying this. “When do we start?”
His slow smile made her heart somersault. He plucked her off his lap and set her on the next cushion over.
“Don’t move,” he told her. “I have something special planned for you.”
Fiona bit her lip at the sight of his firm ass as he crossed the living room and turned down the hall toward his bedroom. Something special? That shouldn’t have sounded as ominous as it did. He was going to get something. That much was obvious. But, what?
She settled her hand over her mouth and tried to think if she’d seen anything in his room that might have her bolting for the door. Nothing came to mind, but it wasn’t as if she’d gone through the man’s drawers. From what little Internet perusing she’d done, she knew of at least several sensual torture devices that could fit in drawers. A shiver darted through her.
Anxiety mingled with arousal. Being afraid of what he might bring out should not feel so good. It really shouldn’t. She ran her tongue between her dry lips and realized even her tongue had gone dry.
She watched the landing for his approach. When finally his footsteps echoed, she curled her fingers so tightly on the bed sheet, her knuckles went white. Then, she frowned. He crossed the living room, a cozy looking blanket in his hands. Maybe there was something wrapped in the blanket?
Harrison returned to the spot beside her and tugged her arm until she was head down on his lap and stretched across the sofa. Then, he reached for the quilt he’d gotten from the bedroom and draped it over her.
“You’re…putting me to bed?” She gaped up at him.
“Mmmhmm.”
“But…but I thought that you wanted to…”
“I know what you thought.” Looking down at her, he tenderly brushed the hair out of her eyes. “Trust me, there’s nothing I’d like more than to use and abuse your sweet body until the sun comes up, but you’re exhausted and you need rest.”
“But I—”
His hand came down and clamped over her mouth.
“Very hard to sleep when you’re still talking.”
Stunned to silence, Fiona watched him reach into the end table drawer and pull out some type of crime novel and a pair of wire-framed reading glasses. He was going to read while she slept? Should she be insulted? No, that would be silly. He just told her that he wanted her.
Still, she stared.
As he quietly continued to read, one of his arms curved possessively around her shoulders, a mixture of emotions swirled inside of her. Confusion. Disappointment. Happiness. Protected. Could this have been the first time in her life when someone put her needs above their own?
“Hard to sleep with your eyes open, too,” he murmured, barely taking his attention off his book.
S
he forced a hard breath through her nostrils and bit back her fascination of how a man so clearly aroused, according to the thick erection a hand’s space from her head, could forgo his desires in exchange for letting her get a few extra hours of much needed sleep.
When his thumb began gently strumming along her arm, her brain started a gradual transition from thinking to simply feeling. So feather light. So soothing. God, her eyes felt so heavy. Every time she blinked, the time between when she closed and re-opened them increased. The slow rhythm of his breathing, along with his gentle touch, relaxed her. She couldn’t remember the last time when she’d fallen asleep in a man’s arms. It felt so nice being against him this way. And strangely, comfortable.
The scent of his cologne wrapped around her, the warmth of his thigh against her cheek. In a few minutes her muscles turned to water, and her mind emptied. Sleep. She was so close to it now.
Then, a moment before she completely gave in to the exhaustion, she heard him whisper, “Sleep well, love. You’ll need your rest for tomorrow.
Chapter Six
Fiona adjusted the angle of the shower spray and then reached for a bar of soap from the dish and began to lather. For the second time in a twenty-four hour span, she’d woken alone in Harrison’s big bed. The only difference this morning being the note he’d left on the nightstand to inform her there was a new toothbrush, fresh towel, and wash cloth on the chair beside the bed in case she’d wanted to shower. She’d snatched up the toothbrush then after seeing her reflection in his dresser mirror on the way to the bathroom, she’d gone back for the towel and cloth.
Eyes closed, she rotated her head under the hot spray. Her body ached in places she’d almost forgotten existed, but it was such a good ache. As she remembered how those places had gotten that way, her lips twitched into an idiotic grin. When was the last time she’d felt this giddy, not to mention rested?
It has to be a sin to feel this good.
And there was no question as to whom she owed for her transformation. If Harrison hadn’t ordered her to bed like a child, she’d be a wreck this morning. Maybe she could repay his selflessness in some way. She proceeded with washing her hair and contemplated. What did a woman get for a man she was having casual sex with yet hardly knew?
The irony of that thought had her screwing up her face and reaching for cream rinse. She knew him. Sort of. Through media coverage she could list some of the more significant moments in his professional life. He graduated from Harvard Law with a master’s at twenty-six. Then, ran in his first election at twenty-seven but lost to longtime favorite, Michael H. Saunders. After the loss, he practiced law with Pitman and Fowler while familiarizing himself with his district’s chief concerns and the people who resided with them.
At thirty-one he became the favorite in a landslide election where he won over constituents with his genuine concern regarding inner city issues and the rising statistic of violence associated with the underprivileged youth. Now, he was on the radar of every political player across the country either as an asset or a rival.
Still, none of that information gave her any idea of what he might appreciate as a thank-you gift. So, he was a political giant and a Dominant. How did that help her?
When the last shred of conditioner was nearly rinsed out, her gaze fell to the razor sitting on the tub ledge. Then, her eyes traveled south of her navel.
“Well,” she murmured. “He probably already has personalized stationary.”
****
Dry, dressed, and determined to embrace her temporary living arrangement, Fiona wandered through the apartment in search of her landlord. She found Harrison in his office, seated behind a large oak desk that looked just as immaculately organized as the rest of his home. His appearance mirrored the desk.
Similar to yesterday, he wore a dark suit only to be offset by a crisp white shirt. His neatly combed hair, expertly shaven face, and flawlessly knotted tie made her smile. Was it strange for a woman to be both intimidated and turned on by a man’s neurotic attention to detail?
Before her mind could shout affirmative, he noticed her standing in the doorway and set down the manila folder he’d been reading from. Casually, he drew off his glasses, leaned back in his chair, and then gave her a thorough once-over that shot tingles all the way into her toes. But he didn’t speak. He only studied her with those intense blue eyes.
A nervous energy thrummed through her limbs. Maybe this wasn’t the best time for her to unveil her unorthodox thank-you gift. He was clearly in the middle of work.
“Sorry,” she apologized. “I didn’t know you were working. I’ll just go get—”
“Come here.” He crooked a finger at her.
She found herself enthralled with the low sound of his voice, but her nerves rioted against movement.
“No, no. I can find something to occupy myself with until you’re finished here. I’ll make coffee or something. You have coffee, right?”
“Come. Here.” The clear command in his voice made her knees knock together, but also it propelled her into motion. Swallowing down all other lame excuses she could think of, she crossed the room. The minute she reached his side, he pointed the floor and said, “Kneel, please.”
Her gaze followed the direction of his finger and an uneasy feeling swelled in her chest. Yesterday, she hadn’t been sure how comfortable she was with the whole kneel at my feet thing and today was no different. It seemed awkward and embarrassing and totally unnecessary as far as she was concerned. Couldn’t he just stand up if he wanted to look down on her?
Oh, what the hell.
She sank to her knees and assumed the position he had directed her to take yesterday with her knees apart and her hands linked behind her back. Though her head was submissively bowed, she could feel his eyes on her. She started to feel smaller, exposed. Vulnerable.
The longer silence ensued, the warmer her skin grew. Her pulse tapped slightly quicker. Her breathing became a little shallower. Even her palms moistened. Arousal continued to rise inside of her and she knew her face was flushed with it. Maybe her brain wasn’t on board with the kneeling, but her body was doing somersaults.
He placed a finger under her chin and tipped her head back. The approval in his eyes snuffed out the last shred of her awkwardness and filled her with a strange delight she’d never experienced before. This pleased him. She pleased him.
“Much better than yesterday,” he praised, gently stroking the pad of his thumb over her cheek.
“Thank you, Sir.”
This brought on even more approval, and the smile she’d earned from him reached all the way into his eyes. In that moment, beyond the sexual tension and arousal, her will belonged to him. She had submitted. Completely. Not because she had to but, because she wanted to give that to him.
It was then she realized the deeper reasoning behind kneeling for him. It was an instantaneous power exchange, the offering up of one’s will to another human being. The kneeling was a simple physical action that displayed her submission to him.
At least, that’s what it meant to her.
“My shirt looks better on you than it does on me,” he commented, and helped her up from the floor. He grasped her hips and pulled her forward between his thighs.
“It was on the back of the chair where you’d left the towel. I hope you don’t mi—” His hands slipped under the shirt and slid up the outside of her thighs.
“I don’t mind,” he replied. “How did you sleep?”
“Um…” Her eyes drifted shut as his thumbs dipped into the shallow soft spot beneath her hipbone. “Sleep? Right. Good. Great sleep.” God, she sounded like an imbecile, but it was so hard to concentrate with his hands on her. “You…you were working on something when I came in.”
“A proposal drawn up for the mayor regarding additional funding for the low-income housing project we’re working on.” He swirled his thumbs lightly over her skin and she trembled. “I was just on the last page of reading it when you walked in.”
“So, I should probably leave so you can finish reading it,” she managed in a voice far too hoarse for her peace of mind.
“Again,” he lifted her onto the desk and her breath caught, “we’ll have to agree to disagree.”
Gripping the edge of the desk, she looked down at him centered between her legs and made an attempt to form another sentence. “Shouldn’t you…shouldn’t you finish reading the proposal?”
“Oh, I intend to finish it.” He started with the top button on her shirt and worked his way down. “You’ll just have to be very, very quiet until I’m done.”
The shirt parted, and he pressed his palm between her breasts, easing her back into a lying position. His fingers dragged along her sternum, down her quivering belly, and over her freshly shaven mound.
“Mmm, someone’s been a busy girl this morning,” he murmured. “Did you do this for me?”
“Yes.” The word trickled out of her as his fingers danced lower, lightly gliding up and down between her slick pussy lips. “A thank-you gift,” she explained. “For putting me to bed last night.”
“What a very nice gift. I intend on using it thoroughly once I’m done reading.”
Once he was done reading?
Dumbfounded, she lifted her head to see his glasses returned to his face and that wretched manila folder back in his unoccupied hand.
“You’re really going to read while—Oh God,” she blurted when two of his fingers pushed inside of her, leaving only his thumb to strum over her hard clit.
“That, to me, is the opposite of quiet,” he chided. “Now, let’s try again.”
Fiona curled her fingers against the desk and bit her bottom lip. Here she’d always thought she wanted a man who could multitask. This was not exactly what she’d had in mind.
Just enjoy it and try to stay quiet so he can finish reading and screw you already.
Easier said than done. Heat gathered between her damp folds where he continued to stroke his thumb in time with the fingers he crooked inside of her. It wasn’t long before her legs started to shake. She tried to distract herself by staring at a lamp on the corner of the desk. When that failed, she looked to the ceiling for salvation. Fuck.