by Watson, Gina
God, his trim, taut, and smooth body took her breath away. When he stood shirtless with his slim-fitted trousers down around his hips and that smoldering angry stare in his eyes, her mouth had gone dry because all of her moisture pooled between her legs. His body was slender and his muscles were so tight, it gave him a quality that she associated with masculinity. He even had veins across his lower abdomen. Those veins she’d followed with her eyes as they’d culminated somewhere in his pants.
Too bad he’d taken her from behind, not that she’d minded at the time. But she hadn’t been able to watch his body as he’d pumped into her. She’d felt him just fine, but he was gorgeous and the visual would have been a plus.
She would need more, so much more. She thought about the huge error she’d made that cost him thousands of dollars. She hated that she’d messed up, but mostly she hated that he thought her to be useless. She vowed to come up with some sort of solution but for now she’d order some room service, have a nice long hot bath, and then she’d crawl in bed while it was still daylight out. She hoped she’d dream of Campbell St. Martin.
4
It was the third day since they’d had sex, and Camp had yet to see Jenny. It was morning and Clay joined Camp in the suite for breakfast. They sat at the table, reading newspapers. When Clay’s food was gone, he asked, “Will you be eating that”—he gestured to Camp’s untouched plate—“or those damn Oreos?” Camp held up the six-count package of Oreos and shook it. Clay nodded and plucked the glass of milk from the tray, setting it in front of Camp. Camp dunked an Oreo into the milk.
“Do you wanna talk about it? You’ve been brooding for three days.”
Camp looked at his brother. The fork in his fingers, in proportion to his fist, made him look like a giant. He guessed it would take more than two trays to fill up that massive body. “I want her.”
“You never could do casual sex. What’s your plan? I know you have one brewing.”
Camp was a planner. He’d already made it to plan C where Jenny was concerned. “She says she doesn’t need me, but she’s wrong. You should have seen how much she needed me the other day. And where the hell has she been?”
“Actually, I may have some insight into her whereabouts.” Clay took a long swallow of coffee. “She’s been overseeing the removal of the equipment delivery.”
Camp, leaned forward, frowning. “She what?”
“She called the company and explained what happened with the delivery. They told her unless she could figure out a way to get the equipment over to the next customer in line, the YMCA, that she’d be stuck with the additional rental charges.” Clay ate a strip of bacon in two bites, then picked up another and waved it at Camp. “Turns out, the YMCA is a mile down the road. However, if you access it through the back of the casino’s lot, you diminish the distance to two hundred yards. She had the workers drive the equipment over and she drove them back until every last piece was moved. She got the cost down from two hundred thousand to under ten. Still an error, but much less of one now.”
Camp was dumbfounded. He scratched at his head. Why had she not told him? “When was this?”
Clay cocked his head. “Two days ago.”
“Why wouldn’t she tell me? Why wouldn’t you?”
Clay shrugged. “It’s her business to tell. I don’t know why she didn’t tell you other than we’ve seen it’s in her nature to be defiant.”
Camp’s hand tightened around the bag of Oreos, and it was only when he heard them crunch that he realized he was tense. “God, I want her. I need her like I need food for nourishment, but she won’t speak to me.”
Clay shrugged. “You could always bring her to the club. Fuck some sense into her.”
“I’m not sure she would consent to that.”
“I don’t know, she sounded pretty feisty the other day. You already know she likes to fight.”
Camp was the only brother who knew about Clay’s controversial sexual cravings. He was a member of a local sex club in Baton Rouge. Clay liked to dominate women. Camp just didn’t know to what extent. Camp thought about tying Jenny down so that she was at his mercy. He’d sensed she was withholding information and now that he’d had sex with her, he thought it would be fairly easy to elicit information from her by withholding her orgasm.
He drummed his fingers on the table. The more he thought about it, the more he imagined she wouldn’t fare well at all in that kind of situation.
He found himself nodding, imaging her begging him to make her come.
“So you’re considering it, then?”
“What?”
“I said you’re considering dominating her. I could tell by the way your eyes dilated. That and the slow grin that just took over your face.”
Camp nodded. “Yes, I’m definitely considering it. In fact, I’m beyond considering. I’m fucking doing it.” He met Clay’s steady gaze. “I may need some pointers.”
Clay smiled and pushed back against his chair. “Welcome to the dark side.”
5
By the end of the week, Camp was back in Baton Rouge and feeling defeated. He’d asked Jenny out three times and been completely shut out. She offered no excuses, simply said she couldn’t get involved. He’d asked questions and she’d said no to all—Was she seeing someone? Was she not attracted to him? Was she worried he wouldn’t care for her son? Yet he’d caught her watching him more than once, and she’d either been licking her lips or her eyes were hooded. What had she been thinking?
Hell, he knew what she was thinking—the same thing he’d been thinking. So why turn him down?
She’d kept to herself, but he’d told her how impressed he’d been with her turnaround on the delivery error. He’d attempted to apologize for calling her useless, but she’d shushed him with her hand in front of his mouth. She’d said she had screwed up and that calling her useless rather than firing her on the spot showed great restraint on his part. The next day he’d found a ceramic Oreo cookie jar on his desk. Inside were individually foil-wrapped Oreo cookies. She’d included a card that said she appreciated his restraint and also his attention to her needs, but the site crew had all left for the long weekend before he could get to her.
He didn’t understand Jenny, but he now had new information on her. Clay had found out that she sang at a jazz lounge in the New Orleans French Quarter. The drive to New Orleans from Baton Rouge was about an hour and twenty minutes. Camp was leaving at seven thirty to head her way.
As Camp drove, his thoughts were consumed by Jenny’s smell, taste, sound, and touch. Thinking of her low sultry voice, he could understand why she sang, but what he couldn’t figure out was why she wasn’t dedicated to one job or the other. He‘d come up with a handful of reasons for why Jenny might moonlight as a lounge singer and work during the day as a designer, but he knew nothing for sure. He didn’t know how much money she made at her day job—he knew what he was paying her firm, but he doubted she received even half of it. Maybe she wanted to break out and become a famous singer. But if so, wouldn’t she need to be in Los Angeles or Nashville? One of the more upsetting reasons he thought up was that she liked the attention singing garnered her. Male attention, that is. He wouldn’t have thought such a thing if not for his first wife, Mandy. She used her position as lead singer in a female band as a platform to lure men to her bed.
It was nearly nine when Camp arrived at the lounge, and an older man with a saxophone was just wrapping up. Camp took a table in the middle of the floor. A waitress came, tried her hand at flirting, but he shut her down quickly and ordered a single malt scotch with spring water. When the waitress finally moved, his breath hitched in his throat. Jenny was taking the stage in a stunning cream-colored dress. She’d transformed herself into a golden-era goddess in a gown that flowed like water down to the floor. The material clung to her curves, and the plunging neckline showed off her flawless skin.
He doubted she could focus on any of the audience given the strong spotlight that shone on her.
“Good evening.” Her low sensuous voice reverberated through the room. “How is everybody on this warm and humid Friday night?” Catcalls and screams answered her. “All right, then the stage is set. Order a drink, sit back, relax, and enjoy the music.”
He recognized the song within the first two chords—“Cry Me a River.” Her voice was smoky and rich and flowed like melted chocolate. She had her audience entranced with her sensual nuances. No one talked, all eyes were on her, and in that moment Camp knew he would stop at nothing to make her his. She ended the words of the song on a breathy whisper that had his hard-on aching to be freed. This woman was passion in the flesh. His need for her was approaching dangerous levels.
After she sang a half dozen or more standards, she leaned toward the microphone and said, “I’ve got to take a small break. Please head to the bar to purchase CDs, pins, posters, T-shirts. As always, the proceeds benefit the Southeast Louisiana Autism Society. Thank you.”
Autism? She was a philanthropist. That surely wasn’t on Camp’s list of reasons she moonlighted as a lounge singer, and he wondered why she chose that cause to support. She certainly wasn’t plagued with autism. One of Mandy’s cousins had had autism. He’d line up objects: pens, pencils, tacks, quarters, Q-tips. He always kept his head down too, since he could never look anyone in the eye.
Fifteen minutes later, Jenny returned to the stage with a guitar player. The second half of her set started with “Besame Mucho.” Jenny stood center stage at the microphone, clutching the stand in her fingertips as her head tilted to one side. She closed her eyes and swayed ever so slightly with the light sounds of the guitar.
Camp, sitting at that table in a little lounge in the French Quarter of New Orleans, fell in love for the first time in his life. All those times he’d thought he was in love were just a stretch before the marathon of emotion now coursing through his veins.
When she was done, Camp waited for her to come out from backstage. When she did, she’d changed into jeans and one of the Autism Society T-shirts. The young guitar player followed her around like a puppy. Camp suspected he was younger than Jenny, but he was a lot bigger, and that bothered him. She was busy gathering up her paraphernalia, the guitar player helping her, using the opportunity to touch her whenever possible, and Camp’s blood was simmering in his veins. He walked up behind them, and she turned too quickly, exhaling a shocked gasp when they bumped.
“Oh!” She laid her hand on her chest to catch her breath. “Camp, you startled me.”
He looked at her—at her face, into her eyes—and at that moment no one else existed. He was alone in the bar with her.
“You are beautiful, and my God, when you sing, you are celestial.”
He pulled her to him and kissed her sweetly and thoroughly. When they pulled apart, she had to catch her breath.
“How did you…” Her face wore confusion. “What are you doing here?”
“Does it upset you that I’m here?” Camp looked away, suddenly unsure. Just because he’d had an epiphany didn’t mean that she felt the same way.
She cradled his cheeks with her palms, drawing his eyes back to her face.
“No, Camp, it doesn’t upset me. I’m rather glad to see you.” She kissed him on the nose.
Grasping her hands and pulling her in close and tight, he asked, “Can I take you home, then?”
With desire flaring in her gaze, she smiled and nodded. “Please.”
“She came with me.” Guitar boy’s words interrupted their little cocoon.
“Sorry, dude. Looks like you’ll be flying solo.”
≈
As Camp drove, he was overcome with the feelings he had for Jenny. He knew his family would tease. He always fell hard and fast, but what he realized tonight was that he’d never loved any of the women before her.
She’d told him she was free for the night and had then fallen asleep against his shoulder. He loved how the weight of her felt against him and the thought of her being so comfortable with him that she could just drift off, but he’d noted that she was constantly exhausted and it worried him.
Jenny gripped his arm tight in her delicate hands. She was talking in her sleep and so he lowered the volume on the CD that he’d purchased. She’d laughed when he turned it on.
“Andrew. Where are you, Andrew?”
Andrew? Her son? He’d heard her on the phone with him. When had she had a baby? Was there a father in the picture? His sense of possession was growing stronger by the minute. His plan for the night was to take her to his family’s estate in Whiskey Cove. He didn’t want to risk being interrupted at his house by Cash or Isa or anyone else. He’d confided in Clay and been instructed on the ever so delicate art of orgasm denial, and since his father had taken the horses out of state to show, he planned to use the stables for his first foray into what Clay called the dark side.
He could admit to himself in the darkness of the car that just touching Jenny, loving her, would probably be enough.
Yeah, he wanted to tease her, get her to open up to him and answer his questions, but he wanted to please her. Please himself by getting lost inside her body. Still, he didn’t intend his planning to go to waste. Just thinking of the ways he’d drive Jenny crazy had had him hard for hours.
When he pulled up to the stables, Jenny was still asleep, so he carried her in and laid her on the bed he’d fashioned out of hay and blankets. He’d earlier brought down pillows from the house and placed those around the bed as well. He’d chosen a rather narrow stall where the walls were already outfitted with hooks that he could use to secure her to the bed, leaving his hands free to love her body to distraction.
Jenny was always tired, exhausted really, and now Camp understood why. But that worked to his advantage tonight. He began to slowly undress her, his worry for her coming to the fore. Her focus seemed like it wasn’t always with her on the job site, like she’d left it somewhere else. He wondered why she was always tired—was it simply the two jobs? Andrew? Or was there something else, something he could help her with? He’d asked her countless times, but she never shared. Tonight he’d get the answers he sought.
She stirred and opened her eyes, looking up and around at the high ceilings of the stable. She inhaled deeply. “Horses.” She smiled just a bit. Then her hand patted the flannel atop the bed. With hooded eyes she asked, “What’s going on?”
“We’re in the stables on my father’s land. I want to restrain you with these silk scarves.” He slowly laced the scarves through his fingers so she could see them. Her throat engaged as she swallowed, and her mouth opened on a breathy exhale. She eyed the crop hanging next to the head of the bed. She lifted it and snapped it through the air. “Will you be using this?”
His mouth went dry. “Do you want me to?”
She licked her lips as she lowered her head, and then she peeked up at him with a coy, wide-eyed smile. “Maybe.”
She was responding to his setup like a pro, but he couldn’t figure her out. He’d been prepared to have to convince her to play.
“Have you done this before?” he asked.
“What? The crop, the silk ties?” She looked at the scarves in his hands and smiled. “No, but I can’t say I haven’t thought about being restrained and at your mercy.”
Holy fuck! This woman had been made just for him. Images of her naked and restrained had him seeing stars. He swallowed hard. “When were you thinking about it?”
“Any time you run around spouting off orders to the contractors and everyone else in the vicinity. You’re always so commanding, it turns me on.” Her lust-filled eyes bored into him.
I’m commanding? Well, if that isn’t the pot calling the kettle black. She’d pay for that. He placed his palm on her cheek and finished undressing her. Once he had her stripped down to her cream-colored silk thong panties, he knotted the multi-colored silk scarves around her wrists and ankles. He whispered of he
r beauty in her ear and massaged her shoulders as he tied her off. With the scarves tied to her, he laced each one through the metal eyehooks in the boards, attaching her loosely.
When he had her secured, he stood back and took in her bound form. Her nipples hardened even as he watched.
“Mmm, Camp.”
He picked up the riding crop and snapped it against the bed. Her body tensed as she tested the silk restraints. Seeing the desire in her eyes, he slowly unbuttoned his shirt. Her gaze never left him. As he slid the shirt down his arms, she swiped her tongue across her bottom lip. He left his snug black trousers on and lay alongside her.
Her nipples hardened even more under his gaze, and he took one into his mouth and rolled it between his teeth. Using the crop on the other breast, he delivered light taps that had her bowing her back. He bit lightly, and her tongue darted out to wet her lips. She groaned low in the back of her throat. He massaged lightly between her legs, over the material of her panties. As her body arched, her limbs pulled the scarves tight and her eyes closed. He slid his hand beneath the fabric of her panties and discovered she was already extremely wet. He could feel how close she was when his thumb rubbed the hard knot at the top of her thighs.
“I’m going to come, don’t stop.” She panted.
Camp pulled his hand away and stood. Her eyes flew open and when she settled her gaze on him, her stare narrowed and she pierced him with those liquid-chocolate pupils. He maneuvered out of her reach; he didn’t want to be kicked or punched if she freed herself, which she could do since he hadn’t tied the scarves tightly. He held the riding crop in his hand, dangling it at his side. He grinned at her, knowing she’d figured out his plan.
He lowered himself between her legs and kissed her inner thigh. Parting his lips, he applied light suction to her skin and used the bristles from his day-old beard to rub across the apex of her thighs, across her cloth-covered pussy. He moved to her other thigh and repeated the same series of actions. He opened his mouth, using his hot breath to whisper across her skin and the wetness at her crotch. She started to buck and mewl. Camp had her right where he wanted her. He slid his tongue across the spot of moisture on her panties. He passed through it once more and then sucked on the material gently.