Bound to Him (Alphamen in Suits Book 1)
Page 4
“I have to go, baby. I have a meeting I can’t be late for. I’ll be home by six.”
He pulls me closer and tucks a few strands of my hair behind my ear before brushing his lips gently against mine.
“Will you miss me?” he asks against my lips, his breath laced with a hint of the black coffee he drank with his breakfast.
“Not at all,” I cheekily reply.
He smiles and gives a light swat to my ass that sends a shiver rolling down my spine; one that James doesn’t miss, given how his eyes heat up. He strokes a hand down my back to my ass, his large palm caressing the cheeks before turning around and dragging me with him to the door, his fingers tangled with mine.
When we reach the door, he pushes me against it and pins me there with his body as he proceeds to devour my mouth with his, ensuring that I’ll very much miss him while he’s gone.
He pulls back, his breathing heavy, and says, “I’ll see you when I get home, baby,” before opening the door and leaving.
I lean against the door for a moment, my lips still tingling and my body on fire. I make my way up to the master bedroom to grab my purse before coming down to see Brandon Stone standing in the foyer, waiting for me. He’s silent on the drive to my father’s company, and as I’m about to exit the vehicle, he tells me, “Call me when you’re ready to head back.”
“I just need to grab some of my things and talk to my dad and a few others. It’ll take me an hour or two at most.”
He nods. “I’ll wait for you in the lobby.”
Even though I’m uncomfortable with this, James insisted on it and Brandon takes his job seriously, so I don’t protest. “Thanks, Brandon.”
His jaw tightens and his hands clench on the steering wheel. “Please, call me Stone.”
I don’t dwell on his weird reaction to me saying his name. I simply nod and give him a smile. “Okay. Stone.”
He visibly relaxes and returns my smile, albeit a smaller version of it.
I go up to my office and greet Robert and a few other employees before making my way to Dad’s office on the upper floor. James removed him from his position as the CEO and gave him a job among the executives of the company. He still earns well, but he no longer has the same authority or the same privileges that came with being the head of the company.
When I reach his office I see that he’s in a meeting so I ask Miranda, his secretary, to tell him that I’m here. She comes back and, with a sympathetic look in her eyes, informs me that he said I should make an appointment for next time because he’s busy right now. I smile at her and try to hide my disappointment. I thought now that the company was starting to become stable again, with James’s help, perhaps we could work at improving our relationship. But it seems my father doesn’t think that’s necessary.
I chat with Miranda for a while before going down to the lobby where I see Stone waiting for me, his stance rigid, his eyes alert and taking in everything that’s happening around him. He straightens when I approach him, and I see him pull out his phone to text someone.
On the way back to the house, I try to make conversation with Stone, but his answers, while polite, are short and let me know he isn’t interested in talking, so I give up and turn on the radio to drown out the voice of my thoughts.
When we arrive, I get out of the car and thank him for coming with me, and he nods in reply before pulling away. I go up to the master bedroom and change from my pantsuit into comfortable jeans and James’s t-shirt that I wore last night. It’s comforting because I can still smell him on it as I settle down at the desk with my laptop to write.
I’m lost in the world of fantasy until Henry knocks on the door and informs me that lunch is ready. As I’m about to leave, my cellphone rings on the bed where I tossed it earlier, and when I see it’s James calling, I smile and hurry to pick it up.
“Hey.” My voice is a little breathless, the excitement and the nervousness making the butterflies in my belly flutter. I don’t know how this man can rouse so many emotions in me and affect me this deeply in such a short amount of time. It leaves me confused yet wanting more.
“Hey, baby. How was your visit?”
“It was good,” I tell him, not wanting to involve him in the mess between me and my father. I know James feels protective of me, and I don’t want him to worry.
“What’s wrong?” he asks immediately, his tone conveying his concern.
“Nothing is wrong,” I try to reassure him. I can’t believe I let Dad’s behavior get to me every time. After so many years, ever since Mom left, I should be used to it by now.
“Clarissa—”
I hear a female voice in the background calling his name, and he mutters, “Fuck.”
I can picture him running his hands through his hair and making the unruly locks messier, the way he always does when he’s frustrated, and it makes me smile.
“I have to go. We’ll talk about this when I get home. Make sure you eat your lunch.” He hangs up and I roll my eyes at his commanding tone before making my way downstairs.
I hurriedly eat, eager to get back to my laptop and immerse myself in the world I had been creating. I was at a really good part when Henry interrupted me.
I’m so absorbed in what I’m writing that I jump and a small scream rips from me when arms wrap around my waist, picking me up from the comfortable chair I’m sitting in and turning me around. James’s mouth crashes down on mine, his lips hard and demanding and his hands possessive as he runs them down my back and tugs me closer to his body.
“I love seeing you in my clothes,” he mutters, his head nuzzling into the space between my neck and shoulder.
“What are you doing back so early?” I ask when I’m finally able to catch my breath and look at the clock. He’s home one hour before time.
“Missed you, baby.” His voice is muffled against my skin.
He lifts his head but his eyes are focused on something behind me. I look over my shoulder and realize my laptop is still open, the words I last wrote displayed proudly on the screen.
I feel my cheeks heat, and I reach out to close it, but James stops me. “Oh no, you don’t.”
I try to pull away from him, but he captures my wrists and pins them behind my back with his hands. It makes my back arch, and my breasts press against the hard planes of his chest. The shirt I’m wearing is pulled tight, exposing the top of my cleavage. James’s gaze dips down, and I feel him take a deep breath, as if he’s trying to control himself.
He releases me and takes his jacket and tie off, tossing them on the chair I was sitting in. Then he grabs my hand and pulls me toward the bed, his other hand picking my laptop up off the desk.
He sits down with his back against the headboard and sprawls his legs before tugging me down so I’m seated between them, my back pressed against his chest. He sets the laptop in my lap and wraps his arms around me. He drops his chin to my shoulder, and his eyes are intent as he starts reading from the beginning of the chapter.
I squirm and start to say, “James, I –” but he growls and pulls me tighter to him, so I give in and relax against him.
I hear him sigh in contentment, and he presses a soft kiss to my temple before he continues reading. I don’t know how long we sit there like that, but I eventually drift off into an uneasy sleep.
Chapter 7
Clarissa
I wake up to lightly pressed kisses on my shoulder and unyielding warmth at my back. James tightens his arms around me and turns me so I’m facing him and straddling his lap. He’s still in his slacks and shirt from this morning, and the laptop is closed and sitting on the nightstand. I tense, waiting for him to say something derogatory about my novel, like how it’s a waste of time to pursue writing as a career or how I would be better off doing something else.
I still remember the first and only time I showed a story I had written to my father and beseeched him to read it. I’ll never forget his words that day; they washed away all my pride and hope and left me feeling
worthless and desperately alone and unloved.
“Do you really want to waste your life on rubbish like this? Why don’t you find something more lucrative to invest yourself in?”
Dad never understood that it wasn’t about how much money I could earn from my novels or how many books I could sell. I just wanted to provide stories that people could escape in, stories that would give them a brief respite from the harsh realities of life in a world of fantasy, stories that would bring them just a moment of peace. After that day, I never approached someone with my words again.
But now James has read them, and I wait anxiously for him to provide his judgment. Somehow, I know his opinion has the power to hurt me more deeply than the harsh words of a father hurting a little girl who was just trying to earn his approval and affection.
“You fell asleep,” he says, his voice low and soft, his eyes scanning my face. His hand comes up to cup my cheek, and his thumb whispers across my lips. “It’s almost time for dinner. Are you hungry?”
I let out a breath I didn’t realize I was holding. I lean my face into his palm and murmur, “Yes.”
He smiles and presses a kiss to my forehead. “Let’s feed you then.”
We freshen up and go downstairs. His chef has prepared a delicious meal, and as we eat I start dreading when James will mention my novel. I’m not ready to hear what someone else thinks about my work yet, and James must sense that because he doesn’t say anything about it. After we finish our meal, he pulls me toward the living room.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” he asks as he leads us to a comfortable couch in the center of the room.
I look at the large screen and the state-of-the-art console system below it and shake my head. “I would like to read some.”
“Okay. Go get your book and then come back here,” he orders as he starts taking out his laptop from his briefcase on the coffee table where he must have put it earlier.
“Yes, sir.” I salute mockingly and leave the room to the sound of his husky chuckle following me.
When I come back to the living room, I see James focused intently on his laptop screen with some papers strewn about on the table, so I quietly settle down at the opposite end of the couch, open my novel to the bookmarked page, and start to read.
About an hour has passed when I glance up to see James looking at me. The papers that were scattered earlier are now sitting in a neat pile on the table and his briefcase is closed. He closes the laptop and puts it on the table and then stretches out on the couch with his head in my lap.
I look down at him and tangle the fingers of one hand in his hair, stroking it and loving the feel of his thick, silky locks sliding through my fingers. His chest vibrates on a satisfied rumble and he closes his eyes, his expression so peaceful and content.
“I thought you were working,” I whisper, running my hand down his head and lightly scraping his scalp with my nails.
“Hmm. All finished,” he replies, his eyes still closed, his hands folded and resting on his stomach.
I go back to holding my book with one hand and reading while the other is buried in James’s hair, my fingers sifting through at a slow, leisurely pace.
After a while, I look down to see that James’s eyes are open and on me, so I put the book away and arch my eyebrow. Or try to, because somehow I never managed to learn how to perform the feat of raising one eyebrow that some people are able to do so easily.
So I give up and settle for asking, “What?”
“Tell me about what happened today.”
“What do you mean?” I stall.
“Clarissa.” The way he says my name conveys his exasperation and annoyance. “When I was talking to you before lunch, you didn’t sound fine. I asked you about it and then we were interrupted so—”
“By a woman calling for you.” The words are out before I can stop them. I had wondered about the woman I heard when we were on the phone, the one who called his name with such familiarity, but I didn’t realize it had been bothering me so much until now.
A slow smile starts forming on his face, and then he is grinning from ear to ear as he looks up at me. I huff and look away from him, embarrassed by my irrational behavior.
“Baby,” he says as he lifts one hand up and puts it at my nape to turn my face. “Are you jealous?” he asks, sounding almost giddy about it.
“Of course not,” I scoff. “Unless there is a reason for me to be jealous?” I ask, just to be sure.
He laughs and tells me, “Martha is my secretary. A fifty-year-old woman who keeps me in line. You have nothing to be jealous about. But I’m fucking ecstatic you are. Because if another man even looked at you…”
His body tenses and suddenly he grabs my arms and flips me to my back. I let out a small shout of surprise and hold on to his shoulders as he comes over me. His hands thrust into my hair and he grabs hold as he brings his mouth down on mine, his tongue thrusting inside with savage force, the kiss a brand of his claim on me.
I moan and relax back into the cushions of the couch, suckling his tongue in my mouth as I slide my arms around his shoulders and wrap them behind his neck. James groans and one hand slides under my shirt to cup my breast.
He stills and breaks the kiss, moving back to look down at me. “Fuck, baby. You’re not wearing a bra?” The hand cupping my bare breast gives it a light squeeze.
I gasp. “My breasts are small so, uh, I don’t need to wear them.” I shrug to appear nonchalant, but I can feel my face heating.
He leans down and puts his lips on mine and whispers against them, “They’re perfect. But you wear a bra outside this house. I don’t want another man seeing what’s mine.” His thumb and forefinger pinch my nipple and his hand in my hair tugs lightly.
“O-okay,” I agree, my hips bucking up to meet his.
He kisses me again, but this time it’s sweet and slow, the fiery aggression from before melting away at my acquiescence.
As one hand continues caressing my breast, the other releases my hair and moves down my side to stop at the waistband of my jeans. He circles my belly button before trailing his finger down, popping the button and lowering the zipper. He takes hold of the material with one hand and drags my jeans, along with my panties, down my thighs until they are at my ankles, then puts pressure on the inside of my thighs to part my legs.
I squirm with need as his mouth moves down my neck, pressing open-mouthed kisses on my skin until he reaches the juncture where my neck meets my shoulder. He opens his mouth and his teeth latch on to the skin and suck hard just as one long, thick finger enters me with a swift thrust.
I moan incoherently and grab his flexing biceps as he thrusts his finger in and out while his thumb circles my clit. Tingles race up my spine from the incredible sensations of his finger inside me while his mouth is sucking at my neck with brutal force.
He starts to insert a second finger and I flinch. He stops and raises his head to look at me.
“Shh. Relax, baby. I’m just stretching you,” he whispers softly as he kisses my nose.
He removes his fingers and brings them up to his mouth and sucks on them, his eyes burning into mine, then puts them back at my entrance. I feel the pressure there as his thumb presses down hard on my clit and he slowly starts pushing them back in.
“Loosen those muscles for me,” he says as his mouth presses tender kisses to my lips and the hand on my breast kneads and caresses in light strokes.
I relax as I feel him start to thrust his fingers, and then he curls them and rubs against the front wall of my sex. I arch my back as my body lights on fire and I moan his name.
“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he growls. His thumb rubs my clit harder as his fingers start thrusting faster. “You’re mine, Clarissa. I’m the only man you’ll ever know. This pussy will only ever let me in.”
I try to twist away from him to get away from all the sensations bombarding me, but he puts his weight over me and doesn’t let me move an inch as his fingers speed up.
“Fuck. That’s it, baby. Just like that,” he hisses.
Stars explode behind my tightly clenched lids, my hands tighten to fists in his hair, and my mouth opens on a silent scream as I climax.
I pant, trying to catch my breath as my body slowly comes down from the high. I open my eyes to see him looking down at me, his fingers in his mouth as he licks my juices off them. I blush when he moans in appreciation and then leans down to kiss me before burying his face in my neck.
“Fucking beautiful when you come for me, firecracker,” he says.
I turn my head and press it into his silky hair as we lie there in silence. I’m just starting to drift off when I feel him get up and then bend down to sweep me up in his arms. He carries me to our bedroom and lays me down on the bed before removing my clothes and climbing in behind me. His arms come around me, one hand closing over my breast and the other moving down to cup my pussy. I smile at his possessiveness as I drift off to sleep.
* * * *
My eyes flutter open as warm lips press against mine, and I automatically reach my arms up to wrap around James’s neck and pull him down.
He chuckles, kisses me again, and then whispers, “Go back to sleep, baby. It’s still early. I have to go to the office for a meeting.” He brushes his lips against mine one more time before straightening and leaving.
I open my eyes just in time to catch him walking out of the bedroom as he fixes his cuff links and tugs at the lapels of his jacket.
The things that man does to a suit, I drowsily think as I find sleep again.
For the next two weeks we fall into a routine as James comes home from his office and we have dinner together before relaxing in the living room. Sometimes we cuddle on the couch and watch a movie while other times James works on his laptop and I read. Well, he pretends to work, because after some time, he’s always lying on the couch with his head in my lap and his eyes closed as I run my fingers through his hair.