His to Keep (Beauty and the Brit)

by Terri Austin

Brynn craved his touch. She needed to feel it again. “Go.”

  As soon as the word left her mouth, Iain lowered his hand and captured her nipple, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. “Who’s in control, Brynn?”

  Just hearing him say the words made her pussy clench. “You’re in total control.”

  While toying with her breast, Iain leaned down and kissed her. Hard. His gentleness from earlier had dissipated, along with his patience. He wasn’t holding back now. His mouth was bruising, letting her know just exactly how close to the edge he was.

  And Brynn liked it. She started to kiss him back, but he pulled away. Brynn opened her mouth to protest, to chide him for being a tease, when Iain crawled farther onto the bed and settled between her legs.

  He slipped his fingers into the waistband of her panties. “Lift your bum.”

  She hoisted her hips upward and Iain dragged the material down her ass, over her legs. Wrapping his hand around an ankle, he slid the silk off one foot, then the other. Now Brynn was completely naked. Constrained by Iain’s belt, her hands were useless. Blindfolded, she was at his mercy. Brynn had never been more vulnerable. She’d never been so aroused.

  Iain placed his hands on her knees and parted them. Prying her legs open, he rubbed his stubble against her inner thigh. “Look how pretty your pussy is. Plump and pink. So very lovely.” He let go of one knee and using his fingers, spread her outer lips. “And wet.”

  Brynn felt so light-headed, she was afraid she might pass out and miss all the good parts.

  “What do you think, Brynn, should I lick you or finger you again?”

  “Um, both?”

  “Greedy girl.” Then he slid two fingers inside of her.

  Brynn moaned as he pumped them in and out. With a torque of her hips, she met his next thrust, but as soon as she did, Iain withdrew his fingers.

  “No moving, love. These are my rules.”

  Panting, Brynn tried to remain still, but she felt empty without him—empty and aching. Still, she clung to silence, obeying him.

  After a long minute, he said, “You’re going to hold still now.”

  Brynn clenched her hands into fists. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  He flicked her clit and Brynn fought a squirm. She bit her lower lip and willed herself to remain motionless.

  Then, instead of continuing where he’d left off, he grasped her waist and glided his hands up to her breasts, gently squeezing the undersides, leaving her starved-for-affection nipples alone. He continued to torture her. Squeeze, then ease off. He did it over and over. It was exasperating, and Brynn bit her bottom lip to keep from crying out.

  Then, finally, Iain moved his hands up and pinched her nipples, pulling them, rolling them between his fingers.

  Brynn let out a long moan. Yes, this was what she needed.

  “You like that. Now, thank me nicely, Brynn.”

  “Thank you, Iain.” The words were torn from her. She couldn’t take an even breath. She was a quivering mass of desire.

  Lowering his head, he lapped his tongue over one swollen nipple, replacing his fingers with his mouth. That was good. So freaking good. Every time he licked at her breast, her clit throbbed. It was swollen too. Achy and heavy, her pussy begged for mercy.

  Brynn fought against the tidal wave of desire coursing through her. Her sensory nerves were on overload. Her skin felt too tight, too sensitive. She couldn’t see a thing. Iain had instructed her not to move. Frustration filled every part of her.

  She wanted to come again. Wanted his hand on her mound, his fingers buried deep inside of her. And it dawned on Brynn that he was in charge of her orgasm. Whether he penetrated her. Whether he left her like this—pent up, in sexual distress. But he wouldn’t, and that’s why she trusted him. All Brynn had to do was enjoy it.

  In that moment, she stopped pulling against the belt and relaxed. She focused on the pleasure, the feel of his teeth scraping over her nipple. She became more vocal too, groaning loudly each time he suckled.

  Time had no meaning. Brynn was lost to the mind-blowing, skin-tingling sensations. She didn’t know how long Iain worked her tits. Occasionally, he’d switch, covering the other one with his mouth. He’d move his hands over her ribs and dig his fingers into her hips. He wasn’t in a hurry. And Brynn couldn’t have moved him along if she tried—because he had the power right then, and she was his willing captive.

  By the time Iain lifted his head, Brynn was past frustration. Her brain had shut off some time ago, and her body was ragged, exhausted, needy.

  “You’ve got amazing tits, Brynn.” Using his tongue, Iain licked his way down the middle of her chest, over her stomach, over her mons. Brynn cried out as he swirled that talented tongue around her clit.

  Carefully, he parted Brynn’s folds. “Beautiful,” he muttered. His warm breath danced along Brynn’s slit, slick with moisture. Even that felt exotic.

  But Iain didn’t lick her, as she expected. Grasping her inner labia between his thumb and forefinger, he worried it, then tugged on it, as he had her nipple. She’d never felt anything like it. Pure pleasure.

  Another loud groan escaped her. “Iain.” Each move of his fingers wound her tighter, higher. The storm from that afternoon grew inside her and gathered momentum. Brynn clenched her stomach muscles and tried really hard not to move, but she couldn’t help an involuntary jerk of her hips.

  Iain didn’t chastise her. Or punish her. Instead, he rewarded her by lapping her clitoris, then pulling it between his lips. That combination of rubbing and sucking sent her over the edge.

  Brynn’s orgasm rocked her hard, from the top of her spine down to her toes. “Iain.” No waves of pleasure this time—her entire body seized up as she came. It slammed into her all at once with a violent force that didn’t stop, didn’t subside. She tried to pull her hands apart as her muscles tightened, but the belt kept them in place.

  It seemed to go on forever and Iain never let up, never gave her a breather, but continued at a steady pace. Brynn curled her fingers inward, digging her short nails into her palms as she rode it out.

  Finally, with her clit continuing to twitch against his tongue, her muscles relaxed. She tried to catch her breath, but she was spent, still high but floating downward.

  Iain gave her one more lick and released her labia. “I made you come again, Brynn Campbell.”

  “At the risk of inflating your ego, that was amazeballs.”

  He stretched his body over hers, his dick thick and heavy against her hip. “That’s possibly the oddest thing I’ve ever heard.” He kissed her lightly, his tongue following the seam of her lips.

  Then Iain moved off the bed. With her eyes still covered, Brynn was tempted to doze off. Sated, her legs became limp and she briefly bent her elbows to relieve the stiffness in her arms. Her heart finally returned to its normal rhythm.

  Brynn heard a drawer open, heard the crinkle of a foil wrapper. “Wait.”

  He ceased moving.

  “Can I watch you?” Brynn had that dopey, giddy feeling, like she’d slammed one shot too many.

  “Watch me do what, love?”

  “Touch yourself.”

  “Don’t know if I can hold out if I do that.” He placed his hands on her face, then slipped the tie over her head.

  Brynn blinked against the light and squinted her eyes. With her wrists still tied, she lowered her arms and sat up. “But you’re in control.” She smiled as she said it.

  “You’re trying to do me in, aren’t you?”

  “Please, Iain?” She hadn’t known she could pull off a seductive voice until that moment. Husky and pleading, that tone was all sex kitten. “Just a stroke or two?”

  He looked as if he were about to say no, but then his eyes roamed over her face. “All right.”

  Iain stood and faced the bed. “Come here so you can have a good, long look.”

  Brynn rose to her knees and moved closer to the edge of the bed. “Will you show me how you do it? Tigh
t grip or loose?”

  Iain closed his eyes and tilted his head back. “Tight.” He grasped his dick at the base and stroked up to the tip, then back down. The tendons in his neck distended, his abs bunched together, but he held on to his self-control. Up and down, with even movements, he jerked himself. The tip became redder, the veins along the shaft more pronounced. Occasionally, he’d clench his ass and thrust his hips forward. It was beyond erotic. She longed to touch him like that, take him to the brink with her hand.

  When he abruptly stopped, he stared down at her. His expression hardened, his lips thinned. “Enough of this. I’m going to shag you now, Brynn.” He rolled the condom over his stiff shaft. “Turn around, bend over, and keep your knees together.”

  With that, Brynn’s sated state flew out the window and her body began to hum with sexual tension once more. Doing as Iain commanded, Brynn lay back, then rolled over onto her stomach.

  “Up you go.” Iain looped an arm around her torso and pulled Brynn to her knees. She stretched her forearms on the gray comforter. “God, you look amazing like this. But don’t think I’ve forgotten about your punishment.”

  His words made her shiver. Brynn bit her lip, anticipating a little tap on her ass. So when it came, she wasn’t surprised. The second tap was a little harder and left her stinging. The third had her gasping. “Iain.”

  “That’s for stopping this afternoon. I told you to keep going, to keep touching yourself. You disobeyed me, Brynn.”

  Her bottom was feverish, but he hadn’t hurt her. He seemed to know just the right amount of stimulus to use. Brynn’s body started throbbing all over again.

  She glanced over her shoulder and took him in. He stood there, naked and proud. And so terribly handsome. She could spend a lifetime staring at Iain Chapman, and it wouldn’t be enough. He was everything she’d ever wanted in a man—strong and self-assured. He put her pleasure before his own. He didn’t judge her or make her feel weak. It wasn’t just about the sex either. Being here with him, opening herself up to this—Brynn felt strong. She knew what she needed, what she wanted. He’d helped her accept this side of herself. “Iain.”

  He’d been rubbing her tender bottom, but when his gaze met hers, his hand froze. They stared at each other for a long moment. She saw the heat there, but there was something deeper in his eyes as he stared back. Brynn wasn’t sure what it was, but it warmed her heart. Soon, his eyes grew glassy, unfocused.

  As she watched, he gripped her hips and eased his cock inside of her. Brynn moaned as her pussy tried to accommodate him.

  Everything had been leading up to this—the culmination of all the foreplay, all the oral. Now, at last, Iain was fucking her, and it felt so right. When he twisted his hips, exquisite shock waves vibrated through her. Heat seared along her nerve endings, delicious and powerful, igniting a fire inside her.

  “Finally,” he said. “I’ve been needing this since the moment I saw you, Brynnie.”

  He’d started slowly, letting the friction build, but that didn’t last long. Soon, Iain’s fingertips sank into her skin and he clung to her. Then he picked up the pace, ramming in and out of Brynn’s pussy. Iain stretched her, filled her. It was heaven.

  He continued to pump into her, each hot thrust bringing her closer to another release. When he let go of her right hip to grab her breast, Brynn lost it. She came so hard that when she closed her eyes, white stars burst against her eyelids. She cried out, long and loud, as her inner muscles squeezed his cock.

  Iain came then, his hand clenching her hip as he bucked against her. “Bloody hell,” he bit out. He spasmed inside her and, after one last push, became motionless. Then he leaned forward, resting his chest against her back.

  As he lay against her, Brynn’s arms trembled from the strain of holding herself up. Even so, she wasn’t ready for him to leave her body. Not yet.

  Eventually, Iain kissed her shoulder blade and pulled out. She rolled over then, curling herself into a fetal position. Once Iain got rid of the condom, he climbed back on the bed, sitting behind her. Leaning into her, he rubbed her hip. “You liked that.”

  Brynn let out a shaky laugh. “How could you tell?”

  He reached across her and untied the belt. “I didn’t get it too tight, did I, love?”

  Brynn flexed her wrists. “Everything was perfect.” She turned her head and gazed up at him. “Thank you.”

  “You’re so welcome.” Iain eased down and nestled her against him, draping an arm across her breasts. She was glad he held her afterward. She needed it, the comfort of it. They remained like that, silent but united, for a long while.

  Then Brynn’s stomach growled.

  Iain burrowed his head in her hair and kissed her. “I guess I should feed you, eh?”

  Brynn didn’t want to move. She wanted this closeness to last a little while longer. “Not yet.”

  “We have all night.”

  She rolled over and faced him. Reaching up, she stroked his hair. “I should go home. It’s getting late.” Brynn didn’t want to leave. She wanted to spend the night in Iain’s arms and hear him speak with that sexy accent. She wanted him to touch her like he was now—with intimacy. But she didn’t like to presume.

  “Don’t go.” His lips brushed her forehead. “Stay with me.”

  Brynn smiled. “All right.”

  “And let’s eat. I’m starving.” He climbed off the bed and walked out of the room. Buck naked. He didn’t possess a scrap of self-consciousness.

  Brynn sat up and pulled her knees to her chest as she watched his perfect ass. When he realized she wasn’t following, he stuck his head through the doorway. “Come on then, chop, chop.”

  “I’m not going to the kitchen naked.”

  With an exaggerated roll of his eyes, Iain sauntered to the bathroom and came back with a blue robe. He held it open for her and Brynn stood, shoving her arms into sleeves that were far too long. Iain spun her around and tied the sash. “There. Now you’re properly covered. Time for dinner.” He strolled out of the room, still naked.

  She scuttled to catch up. This time, as she moved through the apartment, she took a more thorough look around. Modern, sophisticated furniture and artwork filled the space. Sleek. Contemporary. Sterile. Like a showroom more than a home.

  “How long have you lived in this apartment?” she asked, rolling up the robe’s sleeves as she trailed him into the kitchen.

  “Five years.”

  Brynn stopped, her hand mid-roll. “Five years?”

  Iain glanced back at her. “Yeah, why?”

  “It’s just…” She was going to say soulless but that sounded harsh. “It’s very utilitarian.”

  He walked to the fridge and started tossing cardboard containers onto the counter. “Huh. Utilitarian. Say what you mean, Brynn.”

  His wide shoulders shifted and muscles played beneath his skin. Brynn’s gaze followed the line of his back all the way down to his tapered waist and then over that juicy rear.

  “Brynn? Be blunt, love. And do you want wine with the lasagna?”

  “What else do you have?”

  “Beer.”

  “I’ll have one.”

  His brows shot up.

  “What?” Brynn plucked at the sash of the robe. “I like beer.”

  He stuck a carton of food in the microwave and twisted the cap off a bottle. When he walked toward her, his cock swung freely. Brynn covered her eyes with her forearms. “Dude, get dressed. God.” Then a small laugh escaped her. Iain Chapman was audacious in every way. He’d just done the most outrageous things to her, but Brynn was embarrassed. Go figure.

  He yanked on her sleeves, exposing her face. “You’re a conundrum, you are. It’s only bits and bobs, love. Do get used to them.” He handed her the beer. “And don’t think you’re going to get out of telling me how you really feel. What’s wrong with this place? I paid a fucking fortune for it.”

  Brynn ran her finger around the rim of the bottle. “It’s seems cold.”

>   “You’re not talking about the temperature, are you?”

  “Your office—”

  “My office is designed to impress. I bring punters in there, they see the Old World shit, and they know I’m a legit businessman, yeah?”

  “Punter?” Brynn peered up at him.

  “Moneymen. Some bloke comes in, I’m looking to entice investors or what have you, he sees that I’ve got high-end shit—the real deal, mind you, not knockoffs—and he figures I know me onions.”

  “As I’ve mentioned, both of my sisters married Brits, but half the time, I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

  Iain took a swig from his own bottle. “That’s because they’re toffs. They don’t speak like normal people.”

  “Yes they do.” Toffs. She knew that term. It meant highborn. The upper of the upper class. “Anyway, how do you know they’re toffs? They might be regular joes, just like you.”

  Iain’s entire body went motionless. Then he took a deep breath, leaving Brynn to wonder what he’d been thinking just now.

  “Nowt about me is regular, love.” It took a minute for Brynn to understand him. “Nowt” stood for nothing. He was silent a moment and took another swig of beer. When he started speaking again, he’d toned down his accent. “And if they speak differently, that must mean they went to public school, had nannies, and all the rest of that rubbish. Am I right?”

  “Sort of.” Brynn took a seat at the counter. The steel chair wasn’t only fugly, it was also damned uncomfortable. She hopped down just as quickly. “So let me get this straight, you have a fancy office so that people will take you seriously.”

  He tipped the bottle at her. “Spot-on.”

  “But you prefer this place?” She placed a hand on the back of the stool.

  “No, I don’t really give a toss. It’s just a place to rest me bones, innit? You know, your place could do with a bit of sprucing, if you don’t mind me saying. That furniture of yours is ancient.”

  Brynn, who’d been leaning against the counter, straightened. “You don’t like my house?” She’d spent months on that place, picking every color, scouring flea markets and garage sales, looking for perfect midcentury, vintage pieces. “The wallpaper in the living room is an original Eames design. I can’t believe I was lucky enough to find it. That house was built in 1963, right in the middle of nuclear testing. Did you know that Frank Sinatra’s mistress lived two blocks down the street? My house is decorated in the classic Rat Pack era.”