by M. S. Parker
That laugh ran through him even as he pushed his finger inside me. Then his tongue and fingers were where I needed them, and I no longer cared about our little back and forth. All I cared about was that he kept doing what he was doing. When he wrapped his lips around my clit and began to suck, I came, pulling hard enough on the belt to lift my top half off the bed.
My arms were burning when I dropped back down, but I barely noticed. I could hear my heartbeat, feel every solid thump against my ribcage. What I couldn't feel, though, was Dean.
I opened my eyes and saw him at the end of the bed, pulling off his pants. I seized the opportunity to appreciate the amazing body being revealed. Broad shoulders, and a muscled torso, but not overly so. Some women may have liked their men big and bulky, like football players or weight lifters. Personally, I'd always preferred a swimmer's build, probably because I'd been obsessed with the Summer Olympics growing up.
Dean was built like something out of an artist's imagination. Not one of those artists who sculpted pretty marble men with discreet little leaves covering their crotches. No, more like an artist who understood the rugged beauty of a powerful, self-assured man. Rock-hard muscles, a narrow waist, and a cock that would've been impressive even soft, but was, quite frankly, intimidating when erect.
Like it was now.
I licked my lips in anticipation, imagining how he would taste. I hadn't yet had the pleasure, and I definitely wanted it. I'd always been ambivalent about oral sex, but he made me want a lot of things I'd never really wanted before.
His long fingers wrapped around the base of his shaft, and he began to stroke himself, the movement slow, almost leisurely.
“You're beautiful.” The words slipped out before I realized I'd thought them.
“Am I now?”
His accent was thicker than it had been when we'd first started, and I wondered if he deliberately softened it, or if it'd faded on its own.
“You know you're gorgeous,” I said. I flexed my fingers, starting to feel that pins-and-needles sensation that came with poor circulation.
His eyes flicked up to my hands. “Do you need me to untie you?”
I considered the question before answering. “Depends. Are you planning on fucking me anytime soon, or are you just going to make me watch?”
Okay, so maybe the question came out with a little more edge than I intended, but when I saw the way Dean's eyes gleamed, I decided not to regret it.
“I should make you watch me get off,” he said, his hand moving faster. “Get you all worked up and leave you frustrated.”
I squirmed, pressing my thighs together, and he gave me an infuriating smirk.
“Would you like to see me make myself come?” Without missing a single beat, he moved up to the bed.
I automatically spread my legs, but he didn't come any farther than my ankles. I glared at him. “You're saying you'd rather come with your hand than with me? Makes a girl doubt her appeal.”
His smirk widened. “I don't believe for a moment that you don't know how incredibly sexy you are.” He passed his thumb over the head of his cock, smearing the drop of precum that'd gathered there. “I could keep this up, come all over your perfect skin, on those amazing breasts of yours.”
A part of me wanted him to do just that, but the ache between my legs was stronger. I needed him inside me.
“Tell me, love, why shouldn't I do that?”
He'd said before that he liked how bold I was, so bold was probably the best way to go. And there was one thing I was pretty sure I could say that would get him inside me.
And it was something I wanted even though I knew I probably shouldn't.
“Because I'm on the pill.” I locked my eyes with his rather than staring at him touching himself. “And I trust you to tell me if there's any other reason you'd need to use a condom.”
He muttered a string of low oaths, some I didn't recognize, but the tone was enough to get the point across. He liked my reason. I knew there was a risk involved in what I was offering, but I'd meant what I said. I trusted him to be honest about whether or not we still needed to use a condom.
He grabbed my ankle, his grip tight enough to get my attention. “Are you sure, love? I don't want you to regret it.”
I bent my knees, opening myself up more to him. “I want to feel your skin against mine.”
He dropped over me so swiftly that I gasped, but he caught himself on his arms before he crushed me. He rested his forehead against mine, his hands grasping my hips to hold me steady. The head of his cock slipped between my folds, searching for entrance. The tip caught, and then he was inside, surging forward to take me in one deep thrust.
“Ah!” The sound burst out of me, my body clenching around the sudden intrusion.
His mouth covered mine, the kiss almost violent. Since I couldn't touch him, I gave the only thing I could, returning the kiss with matched intensity. Our tongues tangled, battled for the dominance that he was claiming from my body. When he began to drive into me, I lifted my hips to meet him even though I knew I would feel it in the morning. Or maybe it was for that exact reason. I wanted to be sore tomorrow so that I would know this hadn't been all some sort of strange, erotic dream. I wanted to feel the pulse between my legs and know that it was because he'd been inside me.
His lips left mine, and I dragged in deep draughts of air, my lungs burning. He bit his way down my neck, hard enough to sting before kissing and licking away the pain. I pulled at my restraints, the desire to touch him outweighing the bruises I knew I'd have on my wrists tomorrow. Then his teeth latched onto the skin at the base of my throat, and I screamed, coming hard enough to see spots. My muscles tensed, clamping around him, and he came too, warmth flooding me as his cock emptied.
I knew I'd pay for all of this in the morning, but for right now, I'd allow myself to bask in the moment.
I had vague memories of Dean cleaning me up and rubbing the circulation back into my hands, but everything after my climax was hazy. Even when he climbed into bed next to me and wrapped his arms around me, it almost seemed more like a dream than reality.
Except when I woke up, I was still there. In Dean's hotel room. In his bed. In his arms.
I'd fallen asleep with guys once or twice in the past, but it'd never felt like this when I woke up. There was no anxious thought that I had to leave right away, no nerves telling me that things were about to get weird.
I rolled over to find Dean awake and watching me with a guarded expression. He tightened his embrace with one arm as he used his free hand to push back some hair that'd fallen across my face.
“Are you okay?”
I took a quick inventory before giving him an honest answer. “A bit sore, and I have a feeling my wrists aren't going to thank me anytime soon, but definitely worth it.”
The tension in his body didn't ease. “What we did, that's just a small part of the things I like to do.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Okay?” His eyebrows went up. “It doesn't freak you out that I liked tying you up? That I'd want to do other things to you?”
I shook my head. “Look, Dean, my brother may think that all of that makes you more experienced than me, and maybe it does. Maybe you've had a lot more partners than I have, but I wasn't a virgin before I slept with you. And while my number of sexual partners isn't high, it's more than only two or three. Sure, they were all pretty vanilla, but I had a roommate in college who liked things kinky, so I'm not shocked by it. Surprised, maybe, but that's it.”
“So you'd want to...explore things?”
I grinned at him and pressed my body against his. “Definitely.”
He smiled as he kissed my forehead. “Your brother might not like it, but I think he'll deal better with it if he knows I'm not giving you money.” He looked down at me. “So we should tell him.”
“About us?”
“That too, but I meant the money. Where's it coming from?”
Men could be such like-minded bastar
ds most of the time.
Chapter Thirteen
Dean
I had no idea what I'd done wrong. One second, she was in my arms, rubbing against me like a cat in heat. Next second, she was pushing away from me and glaring at me like I'd kicked her dog.
“Are you seriously asking me about my finances?” She pulled the sheet up to cover her chest as she moved to a sitting position.
I managed not to frown as I pushed myself up too. “You said that Dalton was arguing with you about how you were paying for things, so I thought if we told him how you were making money, maybe he'd ease up in general.”
“If we told him?”
My explanation hadn't made anything better, and I didn't understand why. “Yes, since he thought I was giving you money, I want to set the record straight.”
She climbed out of bed, letting the sheets fall behind her. “And here I thought it was about the relationship between me and my brother…about how he thought of me when I should've realized that it was about how he thought of you.”
“Wait a minute.” I needed to be standing for this conversation. “That's not what I said.”
“What is it with the men around me thinking they have a right to know anything they want about my life?” She grabbed her clothes, yanking them on hard enough that I was surprised they didn't tear.
“Your brother just wants to protect you,” I said, reaching for my pants.
“What about you, Dean?” She turned toward me, shirt in hand.
As hot as she looked, standing there in her shorts and bra, I was a little more focused on how pissed she sounded.
“What do you get from all this?”
“I'm not trying to get anything,” I said. “I'm just trying to look out for you.”
“I don't need you to look out for me. That's the whole fucking point.” She put on her shirt. “You, Dalton, my family...everyone seems to think that I need them to take care of me, but I've been doing just fine on my own.”
This wasn’t going the way I'd imagined a morning after conversation going with her. Not that I'd really thought about it. I'd spent more time thinking about the things we'd do the night before.
“I don't understand what the fuss is about,” I said, my own frustration bleeding through. “Just tell him where you work.”
She spun toward me, her face framed by wild waves of hair, cheeks flushed. If I hadn't seen the anger in her eyes, I would've told her that she looked stunning.
“It's none of his damn business where I work, and it sure as hell isn't yours!”
“Love–”
“No!” she snapped. “You don't get to call me that. I'm not your love or your sweetheart or any other form of endearment when we aren't fucking.”
I opened my mouth to tell her that I hadn't meant anything by it, but she wasn't done.
“This is why I never wanted to do the whole relationship thing. Guys either lie about wanting to be in one so they can get laid, or they want to be in control.” She glared at me as she stormed out into the main room. “I should've known that sex with a control freak could never be just sex.”
I didn't know what I was supposed to say. I wanted to defend myself, but even though my intentions had been noble, she was right that I'd been telling her what she should do based on what I thought about her situation. I didn't have an older brother poking his nose into my business or a little sister who I wanted to help. I'd always been my own person, and I couldn't truly understand what she was going through.
I should've asked her what she wanted to do, offer to help her if she was okay with it. Kept my mouth shut if she wasn't.
Instead, I stood there like a slack-jawed idiot and watched her walk out the door.
I'd made it halfway to the door before I remembered that I couldn't go after her, at least not right away. I had a meeting this morning that had taken two weeks to get set up. I couldn't blow it off, no matter how much I might want to. Thinking about how pissed Kyndall was, giving her time to cool off seemed like a good idea.
No matter how good of an idea waiting was, it didn't mean she wasn't on my mind as I showered and dressed. And while my driver made his way across the city. And when I met with one of the board members of the Armitage Foundation.
Aramina Mueller was a few years older than me, happily married, and quite beautiful. She was also a talented DA and was one of the people who'd come up with the idea for the foundation. They offered science, engineering, and mathematics scholarships to inner city kids from all over the country, and working with them would help me with the non-profit I'd decided to start.
Clean energy sources and more environmentally friendly technology had been the area I'd finally chosen for my foundation. Instead of looking for people at the top of their fields and trying to convince them to donate their time or take a pay cut at the very least, however, I'd gotten the idea to offer internships to minds with less experience, but maybe more vision.
Despite my lack of concentration, I managed to get a decent amount of information from Aramina, and then promised her I'd be in touch. When I got back to my car, it was well past lunchtime, but I wasn't hungry. I was frustrated, distracted, and also feeling guilty for how I'd handled things earlier.
Instead of going home or somewhere to eat, I gave the driver Kyndall's address. I'd never shied away from anything that I wanted, and she was what I wanted. She said that guys either only wanted sex or they wanted to control. While I did want both of those things with her, I also wanted more. I wanted to see what other ways we were compatible, see if there could be a relationship between us.
And that had to start with something we hadn't done yet.
A date.
As we pulled up in front of the building, I tried to remember how long it'd been since I'd actually asked a woman out on a date without the end goal of sex. Not that I'd say no to sex, but that wasn't the point. The point was getting to know her, seeing if we meshed as well outside of the bedroom as we did in it.
Fortunately, the doorman knew me, so I didn't have to buzz anyone to let me in. I was surprised at how nervous I was as I approached the door to her apartment. Kyndall wasn't like any other woman I'd ever met, and that meant I couldn't predict what she would say or do. It was...unsettling.
I knocked on the door and wondered if she'd simply look through the peephole, then ignore me. When I knocked a second time, though, the door opened.
“Did you come over to give me a lecture about all the things you've thought of since this morning that I need to do?”
“I came to apologize.”
She blinked, as if that was the last thing she'd thought I'd say. After a moment, she stepped aside and gestured for me to come in. I waited until we were both standing in the living room and her attention was on me before I said anything else.
“I'm sorry, Kyndall. You were right that none of that was my business. We've had sex, but that's it. I had no right to assume anything about what you wanted.” Some Doms – and some people in general – might've thought that admitting I was wrong made me look weak. I didn't see it that way. Honesty took strength. “And even if we were dating, it still wouldn't have been appropriate for me to put myself into your relationship with your brother.”
A moment of silence hung in the air before she responded, “Thank you.” Her voice was soft. “It means a lot that you'd say that.”
I crossed over to her, reaching for her hand. She looked surprised but didn't pull away. “That's not the only reason I came here. It was the first and most important, but not the only one.”
She threaded her fingers between mine. “What else was there?”
“I wanted to know if you would go out with me tomorrow night.”
“Out?”
I had to admit that I was enjoying seeing her off-balance. “On a date.”
She gave me a suspicious look. “Why?”
I laughed, squeezing her hand. “Because I realized, aside from my ill-advised comments this morning, I've enjoyed spending
time with you more than I have with anyone else lately. And I want to see if that's the case when we're not having sex.”
She pulled her hand from mine, but not angrily, more like she couldn't think clearly when we were touching. “I need you to be a little more specific here, Dean. Are you talking about us hanging out like friends...with benefits?”
“No.” I chose my words carefully, wanting to make sure I was clear. “I want to see if we have what it takes to be in a relationship.” I gave her a crooked smile. “A real one, where I can call you love and dearie and sweetheart. Where I can offer my support for anything you need.”
She hesitated before responding, “I'm not sure that's a good idea.”
“One date, lo–Kyndall.” I corrected myself before using an unwelcome endearment. “If you think we can't work, then I'll back off like your brother wants me to.”
She gave me the sort of searching look that made me think she was looking for something specific. What, I didn't know, but I hoped I had it. I wanted to see if this worked between us.
“All right,” she agreed. “But only if I get to choose where we go on our date.”
I would've preferred to handle things, to set up the perfect date, but if letting her choose meant we could go out, I would do it. “Okay.”
“Good.” She crossed her arms and smiled. “I want to go to the club.”
She had to mean something other than what I was thinking. “The club?”
She nodded. “I want you to take me to the S&M club. If we're going to date, I need to see that part of your life for real. More than just a little bondage in bed. I want more than a taste.”
Shit.
Even if I took her on a night when I knew Dalton and Juliette wouldn't be there, even if we never went back after that, word would get back to them. Which meant I was going to have to decide between getting the chance at an opportunity for a relationship with Kyndall, and the possibility of losing my friendship with Dalton.
My eyes met hers, and I knew that there wasn't a choice. Not really. Something about this woman had grabbed me from the first time I met her, and I couldn't give that up without at least trying to see where things could go, and if I declined her request, it'd be over before it began.