by RG Alexander
Her hands went to the zipper on the side of her sundress instinctively. Maybe she lied too. Maybe she was his woman. Her body seemed to think so.
“Passionate cougar shots,” she muttered as her dress slid down to the floor, leaving her in nothing but her white lace thong and heels. “I’m sure they’ll love it and won’t be at all disappointed that you swapped five perky twenty-year-olds for me.”
Jefferson ignored her comment, staring at her breasts while his thumb scraped across her neck again. His skin flushed and his green eyes narrowed. “When this is over I’m going to owe you again. And I know exactly how I’ll thank you. I’m thinking I might tie you to my bed and show you how hungry I really am for you. I can’t promise I’ll be gentle, because what I’m feeling isn’t gentle. Hell, it’s hardly sane. But I think you like that.”
Her body loved it.
He stepped away from her long enough to rip the black dress off the rack. She was finding it difficult to focus, to catch her breath, so she didn’t resist when he told her to raise her arms and lowered the clinging fabric over her head. It was a backless halter with a plunging neckline and short skirt. Classy but revealing. Sexy.
”You picked this out?”
“Don’t sound that surprised. It’s insulting.”
Caroline was so aroused she wanted to scream in frustration. But more than that she wanted him inside her. “Jefferson, is there a lock on that door?”
He was zipping up her skirt, but he stilled at her words. She knew he was thinking about it. Knew he wanted it. “Lock it,” she urged. “and we don’t have to wait for your bed.”
“Don’t think tempting me will get you out of this shoot.” He stepped back and unbuttoned his shirt with stiff fingers. “Would you take off my boots, Caroline?”
The message was clear. He was the one in charge. He would tease and torment her as he saw fit and she would have to do her best to convince him her idea was better without making a single demand. She knew how the game was played.
She dropped to her knees, the skirt snug around her thighs, and took off his boots. When she was done, she looked up at him and licked her lips. “Jeans too?”
“Yes.” The word was sandpaper rough and thick with desire. She undid his buckle and the buttons of his jeans slowly, enjoying the rock-hard erection pressing insistently against her fingers.
His hand went into her hair and she arched against his touch like a cat, making him growl. “That is the prettiest sight I’ve ever seen. I like you on your knees, Caroline.”
She trembled, feeling vulnerable and raw. “I like it too.”
“I know you do, baby.”
His fingers tightened in her hair for a breathless moment before he released her and moved back toward the clothing rack for the jeans he’d been given to model.
“Troublemakers?”
He frowned at her, stepping out of his own pair and into the snug, dark denim. He grimaced as he adjusted his erection. “Your reaction is exactly why I refuse to let them use that name. Let it go or there might be another spanking in your future.”
Yes. She got to her feet slowly, straightening her skirt and turning in a slow circle. “What do you think?”
His new jeans were still unbuttoned when he pressed her back against the wall, one large fist gripping her wrists and holding them above her head. “I think I’m wishing I’d locked the door.”
A timid knock sounded on the door and Jefferson swore against her lips. “We’ll finish this conversation soon. No arguing, now. Behave. Once this is done…”
He let the sentence hang unfinished, full of promise and heavy with need. Caroline nodded, a rush of excitement pumping through her veins. He’d planned on her submission. He’d bought her a dress that fit her like a glove and was exactly her style. His behavior was so naturally dominant that it was hard for her to remember that they weren’t in that kind of relationship—yet. Something devilish inside her was begging to be set free. She wanted to push him, to give him a taste of how much control a woman could command from the bottom.
She wanted to play.
If the designers needed him to look hungry and passionate, to make every woman who saw him in a magazine or on a billboard rush out to by Jefferson’s jeans for her man…it would just be rude of her not to help them out.
***
Jefferson had made a strategic mistake. He’d known it from the moment he’d gotten her into that dress, and it had gone downhill from there. He watched as the stylists came in, following his direction to pin her hair up in a tousled, sleepy twist that left sable tendrils curling along the nape of her kissable neck and at her temples.
All he wanted to do was send them away again.
Caroline’s siren smile distracted him. She hadn’t wanted to do this, hadn’t liked the idea at first, but no one would know it from how quickly she’d signed the paperwork and how comfortable she seemed allowing him final approval on her appearance. She was embracing his commands exactly as he’d hoped she would.
I’m thinking she’s out of your league. That woman would eat you for breakfast.
More experienced Romeos than you have crashed and burned.
He’d laughed off John and Trudy’s warnings, but last night they’d repeated in his head as he thought about her. There were few things in life he’d ever wanted as much as he wanted Caroline, and he hadn’t had the best of luck with any of them. But he needed this to happen. Needed to have her. Know her. She brought out something in him he couldn’t explain. He’d surprised himself yesterday, but her response to each new tantalizing torment had only made him more creative. More determined to deny his own release in order to continue exploring this new side of himself and her. He’d had control over her pleasure, if nothing else, and the power had been heady.
In the hours before dawn he’d found himself thinking of all he still wanted to do to and with her, all the things he could do to ensure Caroline wouldn’t have the energy or will to compare him to anyone else or find a list of reasons to leave. He had to keep her off balance. Keep her intrigued.
Keep her.
You can’t keep what you never had. He’d learned that lesson recently, and the wound was still fresh. Caroline wasn’t his yet. But she would be.
When the photographer saw Caroline’s finished product he declared Jefferson a genius and spent the next five minutes gushing over his new model’s tattoos. He took a few individual test shots of both of them, then a few of them standing side by side, shaking his head in bemusement the entire time. “The big city temptress with a rebellious streak meets the dangerous cowboy far from home,” Terry effused. “The two of you are so intriguing I can already picture the layout in my head. Love the dress, love that cowboy hat and I love that you’re both barefoot. Jefferson, don’t you dare put on a shirt. The intimacy is what will sell it. You’re a walking romance novel.”
He paused in his praise and called out to his assistant. “Not one piece of straw now. I want a stark background. These two don’t need anything to distract from them. Jesus, when the finale is over come and see me, cowboy. You were created for the camera. Somebody bring me the chair—yes, that leather chair from my office. Get it now.”
When the camera started whirring, Terry began giving them directions. Caroline took Jefferson’s hand and guided him to the wide lounge chair. Careful not to obscure the view, she knelt beside him and slid her hand up his thigh provocatively. “You said you liked me on my knees, right?”
He hoped to hell they could airbrush out the erection pressing painfully against his jeans. “Careful, Caroline.”
She had her back to the camera, so the sparkle in her dark green eyes was for him alone. “I’m playing a big city temptress, Jefferson. A rebel. I don’t think careful is in the script.”
He reached out and wrapped one of her loose curls around his rough fingers. “There is no script here, no pretend. Just you and me.”
Her shimmering lips quirked. “If it were just you and me, we’d be naked by now and using that
chair for more than a prop.”
His hand dropped to her bare shoulder, unable to resist his need to touch her. “You wouldn’t be naked. Not yet. I want to fuck you in that dress. I’ve thought about it since I picked it out. I want to lift that skirt, rip off that white lace thong and take you more than I want to take my next breath.”
“Jefferson,” she whispered, her nails digging into his thigh.
“I love this,” Terry called from across the room, shattering the intimacy of the moment. “Love. But we’ll all be missing our paychecks if I don’t get better shots of the goods. Stand up for me and take charge of your woman, cowboy.”
He saw Caroline bite her lip to hold in her laughter and stood, loving the way her cheeks heated when she looked at his jeans.
“I could if you’d stop interrupting,” he muttered, reaching for his belt buckle and sliding it slowly out of the loops.
He’d won it years ago at a rodeo and chuckled at the gaudy size of the thing, but it had become his good luck charm. Wearing it on the show had been his way of embracing what he’d been cast as, the big, brash, cocky Texan. The prop was such a hit they’d requested that he wear it to every cocktail party and promotional presser he attended. And the people who’d asked him to sell these jeans had demanded it as well.
Caroline swallowed hard and Jefferson’s lips tilted wickedly. Maybe it was still lucky. “Stand up for me.”
She pushed herself to her feet, her gaze wary when it fell on the belt dangling from his fingers. “What are you going to do with that? Remember, we aren’t alone.”
“Just this.” Jefferson wrapped it around her waist and pulled her tight against him, turning them both so his back was facing the camera.
“Oh,” she gasped when her flat belly pressed against his erection. “You are definitely a dangerous cowboy.”
He tightened the belt around her and leaned down to bite her neck. “I aim to please. Wrap one leg around me, sweet Caroline. Give the man his show.”
She did, and her hands slid around to cup the cheeks of his ass. He bit the inside of his cheek hard when her hips started to rock against him subtly.
“Caroline, you’re killing me.”
She was staring at his mouth. “If we were alone, you wouldn’t let me get away with teasing you. You’d tie me up with this belt, or you’d spank me with it, and make me behave.”
“Fuck,” Jefferson breathed. “You are a wicked woman.”
“That is money,” Terry cried as he ran from one side of the studio to the other, snapping away. “Jefferson, we need to see that belt. Toss it over your shoulder with the buckle facing me. And temptress, drag his jeans down just a touch. Not enough to reveal all his secrets, just enough to give the suggestion that he’ll be out of them soon. Yes!”
Jefferson smiled tensely as Caroline obeyed with shaking fingers. “He sounds like he’s enjoying himself.” He slung his belt over his shoulder and reached for her again, tugging her skirt higher on her thighs. “And I know you are.”
Her eyes were wide, and such a rich forest green he could drown inside them. He could feel her heart racing as wildly as his own and the temptation she presented made his chest rumble with a repressed growl.
He whipped her around so her back was against him. He wrapped one arm across her chest and gripped a handful of the silky black fabric that covered her with the other, desperate to get her out of it. Caroline leaned her head back on his shoulder, moaning when his fingers slipped into the inviting dip of her neckline.
“Yes! Yes!” Terry sounded like he was the one having sex, and he was closer than Jefferson would have liked.
“Yes,” Caroline whispered when the tips of his callused fingers scraped across her nipple and he bit her shoulder.
He’d wanted to seduce her, maybe impress her, and this morning he’d been sure he was a genius. Now his brain had left the building, heading off for greener pastures because all the blood in his body had rushed to his cock.
Caroline was in his arms and ready for him. So soft and warm and willing it was torture not to taste her. To touch her the way he wanted to. But it wasn’t that kind of photo shoot.
He forced himself to look up and seek out the photographer. He glared through lowered lashes while the man continued to work. “We’re done, right?”
“Oh, the possessive glare. Yes. She’s yours. That is it, cowboy. Take her hard. Sell those jeans.”
Caroline’s laugh was weak and breathless with the same tinge of desperation he was feeling. He stepped back and reached for her hand, tugging impatiently when she didn’t immediately follow. “We’re done, Terry. We have reservations we can’t cancel.”
“But I have five more rolls of film,” Terry whined. “You two are on fire and we’ve hardly used the chair at all.”
Jefferson didn’t respond. He was on fire and he didn’t trust himself. If the man hadn’t been able to get one decent shot of him in the damn jeans, he’d come back. At the moment, getting out of them was his main focus.
Caroline followed him into the makeup room to gather her sundress and purse and slip back into her heels. He was wondering if he could convince her to leave her car, and attempting to mentally map their routes to his house or her apartment when she put her hand on his arm.
“Jefferson? I’m ready.”
He really hoped she was. Because there was no way he was going to be able to hold back. He needed her too much and all the restraint he’d been so proud of had temporarily abandoned him.
There was recognition in her eyes. Awareness. “I’m ready,” she repeated softly. “Follow me to my place.”
“How fast can you drive?”
Chapter Six
Caroline’s hands were shaking when she slipped into her spot in the parking garage and turned off the ignition. She could only be thankful that the studio was so close to her apartment. If she’d had to sit through ten more minutes of traffic knowing Jefferson was following in the truck behind her, she would have lost her mind.
I want to fuck you in that dress.
She took a deep breath. She needed to keep her head on straight if things continued going in this direction. Domination wasn’t the same as hot, uncomplicated sex. Whether Jefferson knew it or not, from the initial spanking to his dressing her, he was sending certain signals. Signals that required the safe, sane and consensual conversation. The negotiations he’d mentioned. They would need to put everything out on the table. Desires and doubts. Turn-offs and turn-ons—though at this point everything Jefferson did was a turn on and the only thing she doubted was her sanity for wanting something it would be impossible to keep.
The shoot was foreplay. A tease for both of them. She’d forgotten the reason they were there, forgotten everything but the thrill of touching him, seducing him while Terry the excitable photographer looked on. She’d noticed when she signed the paperwork that Jefferson had ensured she would be paid for the session, but the money hadn’t mattered at all. It was Jefferson. He’d made her feel beautiful. Desired in a way she couldn’t resist. When he’d gotten her in that room alone to dress her, when he’d held her during the shoot she would have given him anything he wanted. The way he’d looked at her…the things he’d said.
I want to fuck you in that dress.
Her body was humming, practically vibrating with anticipation. She knew how addictive sex with Jefferson could be. One of the hardest things she’d ever done was stay away after that night in his bed. But this was different. He was different. This side of Jefferson was masterful. Less playful and more powerful.
She felt like she was nineteen again, walking into her first dungeon experience with no idea what was coming next. But she was nowhere near nineteen and she had crowded her life with so much life, submitted to world-renowned Doms and kissed so many frogs that people who knew her swore she’d done everything and everyone worth doing already. She hated it when they said that. Yes, she’d made a conscious decision to live for herself and for the aunt who’d been more like a
sister to her. She’d made a promise that she wouldn’t waste a second, and she’d take every chance she found for happiness and follow her heart’s desires without fear.
What she was feeling now was frightening and crazy. But she was still going to invite him in and let whatever happened happen. She couldn’t deny him or herself. She wasn’t willing to rationalize it away just yet. Not now.
Her car door was yanked open and she gasped in surprise before realizing it was Jefferson. He’d parked on the street, but he must have followed her into the garage.
“You scared me.”
He pulled her out of the car as if she weighed nothing and immediately pressed her against it. “You scare me too.”
She melted into his arms when he started to kiss her, his teeth tugging on her lower lip, his tongue caressing hers while his hands disappeared beneath the black skirt of her dress.
Her hands dropped to his forearms and she turned her head to catch her breath. “Jefferson, my place is right upstairs.”
One hot, rough hand was already beneath the lace triangle of her thong, fingers slipping through her arousal. “I don’t care. Now, Caroline. Here.”
It was late afternoon. It wouldn’t be long before her neighbors started to fill the garage as they came home from work. This is where she lived. They couldn’t…
She moaned when he nuzzled the plunging neckline out of the way and took one breast into his mouth, his finger thrusting deep inside her, clouding her judgment.
I want to fuck you in that dress.
“God.”
He lifted his head and looked into her eyes. “Bend over the hood of the car.”
She loved the rasp in his voice. She waited for him to step back before she complied, her legs weak. “Yes, sir.”
“Fuck,” he swore. She heard the sound of foil ripping as she watched the entrance to the parking garage. Cars were whizzing by, completely oblivious to what they were about to do. What Jefferson was about to do to her.
She bit her lip hard, her fingers curling along the silver metal when he pushed her skirt up to her waist and ran his palms along her bruised cheeks. “Does it hurt, Caroline?”