No matter what we do in the evenings, they all end with a heavy make-out session on the couch or sometimes we manage to get to the bed. But even though James gives me orgasms that threaten my sanity, he never asks for anything or pushes for more and always puts a stop to it before we get too far. I don’t know how he knows I’m still not ready for that final step. He is patient and giving, always remaining in control and coaxing pleasure out of my inexperienced body.
I feel so happy and satisfied with his care and affection that I don’t even realize I have let my guard down until one phone call comes that ruins everything.
Chapter 8
Clarissa
“Clarissa!” James calls as he comes home from the office.
I know I only have a few minutes to compose myself before he comes looking for me, like he always does, so I sit on the edge of the bed as I hear his footsteps pounding on the stairwell. He appears in the doorway of our bedroom a moment later, his broad shoulders filling up the space. His eyes light up when he sees me, and he starts to come forward, but I put a hand up and it stops him in his tracks.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, his brows knitting together in an expression of worry and concern.
“I got a call from Moonlight Publishing today.” I get straight to the point, my voice barely above a whisper as I try to speak around the ball of emotions clogging my throat.
“Clarissa,” he starts to say as he takes a step forward, but I wrap my arms around my waist as if they can shield me from the pain and continue speaking.
“They told me they liked my manuscript and would like to discuss the details of publishing it.” I raise my head and look up at him standing there in the middle of the bedroom, his hands fisted at his sides. “A manuscript I didn’t submit to them.”
“Baby.” James’s voice is soft, but it grates at my senses. “You have so much talent, and you have to show it to the world, not keep it hidden inside. I forwarded the manuscript for approval because I knew how much you wanted to do it, but you were scared of taking that first step.”
“It was my decision,” I say, looking past him to the empty hallway behind. “And you took it from me. Because you didn’t think I was capable of doing it on my own.”
“No!” James’s vehement denial cuts through the tense air surrounding us. “I want you to have what you want, Clarissa. And I want to give it to you when you’re afraid of taking it on your own.”
“You did this because you think I’m not enough,” I hurl at him, not able to look into his eyes as the years of hurt and anger and betrayal come bubbling up to the surface. The pressure behind my eyes is unbearable and they well up as I stand from the bed and hug myself tighter. “You want me to be successful so I become worthy of someone like you!”
James is there before the first tear falls, pulling my stiff body closer and wrapping me in his heated embrace. But I don’t want his comfort and his warmth right now. I want an outlet for all the chaos inside me, the demons that haunt me and leave darkness and misery in their wake. So I struggle against him, unfolding my arms and pushing at his solid chest.
“No! Get away from me!” I yell, twisting my upper body to create some distance between us, and not just physically.
“I am not your father,” he whispers in a strained voice, and I hear the pain and the suppressed rage that he tries to hide. In an instant, the fight drains out of me and I cease my struggles and sag against him, my body yielding into his as the impact of that statement rocks me to my core.
James doesn’t say anything else, just braces his feet apart to support my weight, his arms still holding me to him. I stay motionless, my thoughts in a whirl as I gulp in deep breaths of air, feeling like my lungs are starved for oxygen. I don’t know how long we stay like that but eventually I’m aware of James sitting me down on the bed as he stands at the edge and takes his clothes off before pulling me to my feet and undressing me.
I’m numb as he picks me up and lays me on the bed, following me down and pressing our naked bodies against each other. We’re lying on our sides, facing each other with our legs tangled together before he finally speaks again. “I know, baby. I saw how he treated you that first day. But I’m not like him. I’ll never be like him.”
He pushes one hand into my hair and lightly tugs my head back so I’m looking at the blue in his grave, solemn depths.
“You are more than enough for me, more than I ever imagined I could have. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. I’m the one who needs to work hard to be worthy of you. Do you understand me?” He tugs my hair harder as if to emphasize his words, but there is no way I can miss them when his eyes are blazing it into my soul.
I’m so lost in his gaze that I don’t realize I’m crying until he makes a rough sound in his throat and leans down to press his mouth to the corner of my eyes, his lips sipping softly at my rapidly falling tears.
“Don’t cry, baby. It kills me from the inside.”
This man, this beautiful, selfless, tender man is in pain because he sees me suffering. The wall around my heart crumbles and shatters into a million unidentifiable pieces, never to be joined together again, like the mismatched pieces of a jigsaw puzzle.
Words pour forth from me in an endless barrage of emotions as I free the catch locking them in and let them flow in blissful release. “He was never there for me. N-never. I tried so hard,” I cry, recalling all the effort I made to impress my father and get him to look at me with pride and love. “So hard, James,” I repeat as I duck my head and press my nose into the hollow of his throat, taking in his unique scent. “I always put him first. Did my best to never do anything to hurt him because I knew he was hurting too. Hurting because Mom had left him and he did love her. Despite everything he said to her, all the ways he belittled her and dragged her down, he did feel for her in his own way.”
James doesn’t reply, his hands caressing my hair and back in long, slow strokes, his chin resting at the top of my head.
“I don’t blame her, you know. She had to leave, had to get out, get away from that depressing situation. It was toxic. That house filled with anger and hatred and every negative emotion that they brought out in each other.”
I shiver, suddenly feeling cold as I remember those years of my childhood filled with loud shouting, disgusting insults, and cruel, mocking taunts. Of course, after my mom left, the silence that reigned in the house spoke just as loud, if not louder.
“I hate that when she died a few years later he didn’t even go to her funeral. As if she never e-existed.” The overwhelming grief I feel as the memories of that day come back is enough to drown me.
My body starts trembling, and James pushes me gently to my back before coming down on top of me and covering me with his length from head to toe. His thighs bracket mine and his head rests on the pillow beside my head. Even though he’s heavy, his weight provides me with reassurance and a feeling of safety, like nothing can touch me as long as I’m under his body and surrounded by him. It’s a heady, liberating feeling and I treasure it and greedily pull him closer to me.
“Let it out. Let it all out. I’m here,” he whispers in my hair as he holds me to him and presses me deeper into the mattress. “I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
My breath hitches in my throat, and then the dam breaks and I’m sobbing so hard my whole body shudders against him; gut-wrenching cries that shake me to the core. I clutch James tight to me, impossibly tight, but that’s all right because he holds me just as tight to him. My hands are frantic and desperate on his back as I fuse our bodies together, like he is the anchor of my soul, the only thing keeping me grounded on this earth, otherwise I could get lost in this dark abyss and not be able to come back.
Through it all, James rocks me quietly, petting my hair and stroking his hands up and down my sides repeatedly as if he wants to scrub the pain away from me with his rough hands that are so gentle as they glide over my body. Eventually, the fight and the release of years of pent-up emotions
leaves me drained and I fall into an exhausted sleep, for once welcoming the darkness because I know I’m safe as long as this man’s arms are around me.
* * * *
When I wake up the next morning, in the early hours of dawn, there is a slight throbbing in the back of my head from crying for too long. My nose is blocked, my throat is raw and scraped, and my eyes feel gritty and swollen, but my heart is strangely lighter.
James is wrapped around me, his arms holding me tight as if he’s afraid to let go, and his body is half on top of mine. I bring a hand up and put my palm on his forearm that is lying across my stomach, and I’m about to go back to sleep when James stirs beside me and lifts his head to look down at me.
I avert my eyes, feeling vulnerable and exposed in the harsh light of day. Pouring my feelings out in the open and sharing my pain with James was a catharsis unlike any I imagined possible, but now that it’s over I need a moment to gather and compose myself.
But James doesn’t feel inclined to give me that time. “Clarissa,” he calls, leaning down to press his forehead to mine.
I close my eyes and that makes him growl right before he presses his mouth to mine in a savage kiss, his lips insistently moving over my own. I gasp and lift my lids to see his eyes are open and searing into me. When he sees that I’m looking at him, he breaks the kiss and moves his head back a little.
“Don’t shut me out,” he commands in a gravelly, sleep-roughened voice.
“I wasn’t shutting you out,” I reply, even though I’m aware I was doing exactly that. “I just need a little time to myself.”
“No,” he says. “We deal with everything together. If you want to—”
He’s interrupted by the vibration of his phone on the nightstand. He hesitates and looks at me before leaning over my body to stretch an arm out and snag his phone. He touches the call button and brings it to his ear, his eyes still boring into me.
“What?” he barks into the phone, a fierce scowl on his face.
I take the opportunity of this momentary respite and look away from him.
“Fuck!” His voice is harsh and filled with frustration, and I don’t know if the curse is in reply to whatever he heard on the phone or from me not having my eyes on him. Knowing him, it’s probably both.
From the corner of my eyes, I see him run a hand through his hair.
“I’ll be there in an hour,” he says, then hangs up and throws his phone on the bed. “Something’s come up, baby. I have to go to the office.”
“Okay,” I agree too quickly, thinking him leaving early will mean I have some time to myself before he comes home in the evening.
But James sees right through me because his eyes narrow and he leans down to whisper in my ear, “Don’t think you’ve gotten away that easily. We’ll finish this when I get back.” The promise in his words makes me shiver slightly.
He smirks, apparently satisfied with my reaction, then gets up from the bed and strolls his naked ass, unabashedly, to the bathroom and I hear the shower turn on. I tug the sheet over my shoulders and turn around to face the wall, keeping my back to him when he returns to the bedroom to dress.
There is a slight pause and then I feel James come up behind me before he leans down and puts his nose in my hair, inhaling deeply, as the lapels of his open suit jacket brush against the bare skin of my shoulders and arm. I stiffen slightly but don’t turn around to face him. He straightens and pauses once more before silently leaving the room without another word.
Chapter 9
Clarissa
I hear the front door slam shut, the loud bang reverberating through the house. I look up from the book I’m reading and glance at the clock to see that it’s only been an hour since James left for the office. Why is he back so soon?
I gasp in shock when James arrives at the entrance of the living room. His eyes are wild, his jaw clenched tight, and the lines of his face are hard and unyielding. He’s breathing hard, his chest rising up and down with the rapid motions. His eyes focus on me with the intensity of a laser beam as his hands go to the knot of his tie and jerk it loose. He yanks it over his head and throws it across the room as he starts to stalk toward me, his movements slow and measured.
His jacket is gone, roughly pulled off his frame and dropped on the sofa, by the time he reaches me. He bends down and puts his arms under me, scooping me up and cradling me close to his chest.
“James, what—” I start to say, alarmed by the urgency in his actions.
“Quiet,” he snarls as he takes the stairs two at a time, racing up to the master bedroom.
When we reach the bed, he throws me on it so hard I bounce upward but meet an unrelenting wall of heat as his body covers mine. He grabs my wrists and holds them by the sides of my head as he leans down and buries his nose in my hair, inhaling deeply.
“I don’t like when you hide yourself from me,” he says, his voice deep and guttural. “I don’t like it. Not one bit, Clarissa.”
His hands tighten on my wrists and his legs move restlessly in between mine. His hands free my captured wrists and thrust into my hair, lifting my head and holding it pressed to his neck.
“You are mine. I want every part of you. I don’t like it when you push me away,” he repeats, his movements becoming more jerky and desperate, his hands holding me tighter, his weight pressing into me deeper.
His breathing is still uncoordinated and his body is shaking with tiny tremors as he tries to burrow his head further into my shoulder like he’s trying to delve underneath my skin. My heart seizes in my chest, and I bring one hand down and put my palm flat on his lower back, touching his smooth flesh where his shirt has come loose from his pants. At the touch of my hand on his naked skin, his entire body stills before he shudders and calms down, his clenched hands loosening their tight grip in my hair.
“I’m sorry, James. I won’t push you away like that again,” I say in a soft voice, my hand slipping under his shirt and soothingly whispering over his heated skin.
James’s muscles relax slightly, the tension leaving his frame as he lifts his head to look down at me. “You will tell me when something is upsetting you?” he asks.
“Yes,” I reply in a whisper.
“You promise?” The expression on his face is so open and vulnerable it melts my heart.
“I promise, James.” I raise my other hand and cup his cheek, the stubble on his face from this morning scratching my skin.
He leans into my hand, nuzzling my open palm with his lips. “Okay,” he says as his eyes close in relief.
I continue moving my hand up and down his back as he lies on top of me, his hands combing through my hair in soft, petting motions. Suddenly, he opens his eyes and narrows them, his expression hardening again.
“You didn’t give me my morning kiss today,” he accuses with a fierce scowl.
A surprised laugh bursts out of me at the seriousness on his face, but when his scowl deepens threateningly, I stifle my mirth and say, “I’m pretty sure we kissed in bed this morning.”
“That wasn’t a kiss. I took your mouth, firecracker. You didn’t give it to me,” he replies.
I don’t understand the difference, but I remember how on edge he was when he came back from the office and how my touch instantly calmed him down. I don’t want to stress him any more today, so I smile and lean up, brushing my lips against his.
“Am I doing it right?” I tease against his closed lips.
“No,” he replies, surprising me. “But I can teach you.” His voice is a husky whisper filled with heat.
“Then, by all means, show me.”
The words are barely out before his mouth opens wide over mine, prying my lips apart and thrusting his tongue inside. He tongue-fucks my mouth until I’m out of breath and forced to break away from him to inhale oxygen. James growls when I lean my face back but then lowers his head and licks my chin, undeterred.
“You should practice on me every day,” he murmurs as he grasps the hem of my shir
t and lifts it over my head. A growl of appreciation rips from his throat when he sees my bare breasts. “So you’re perfect at it,” he continues as his hands come up and mold my breasts in his large, rough palms.
“Yes,” I agree as I pant and arch my back to increase the pressure.
He smiles before swooping down and taking my straining nipple in between his teeth, flicking his tongue around the captured bud. His other hand travels down my belly to the zipper of my shorts as he unbuttons and unzips them, thrusting his hand inside and swiping a single digit down my folds.
“Oh God,” I gasp as my legs spasm and clench around his hand, his finger sweeping up and down in slow, maddening strokes.
“This is my pussy,” James growls as he releases my nipple and moves down my body, removing my shorts and panties together and tossing them on the floor. “Every fold of its lips, every drop of its juice, every pulse of its walls is all mine. I’m the only one who gets to touch it,” he snarls as his finger finally enters me, curling up and rubbing against my pulsing inner walls.
“James,” I plead. “I need more.”
He lowers his head between my thighs and uses one hand to keep them apart as his tongue licks a long line from my opening to my clit. “The only one who gets to taste it,” he groans right before taking another swipe, the finger inside me shallowly thrusting at a lazy speed. “The only one who gets to fuck it.”
I gasp in surprise and shock when he lifts his head and moves up my body in one fluid, graceful motion. His eyes are blazing with lustful heat that he does nothing to hide from me, and his intentions are clearly stamped on his face.
“James,” I utter with hesitation.
“I’ve been patient, haven’t I, baby?” he asks as he hovers over me, one hand wrapped in my hair, the other still between my legs. “But you’re ready now, and I need to claim you, to brand you.”
Bound to Him (Alphamen in Suits Book 1) Page 5