“I know,” he said, reading my mind. He circled one large palm around my wrists and tugged me into the bedroom where he tossed me onto my bed.
The light was off, but the blinds were drawn and the outside light spilled in across his torso. His dress shirt stretched tautly over his muscles, and though I wanted to see them in the flesh, I also loved the way it felt to be nearly naked while he was still dressed. It made the whole thing dirtier. Kinkier.
Especially when he ordered me around like he had a right to tell me what to do. Like he was still my teacher. Like he was my boss.
“Get naked for me,” he commanded, loosening his tie.
Goose bumps spread along my arms and stomach. My hands trembled as I reached behind me to undo my bra. I threw it off the bed then scrambled out of my underwear.
He watched me as I did, his eyes dark slits. “Give me your hands.”
I held them out to him, palms up, not sure what to expect. His authoritative tone along with the not knowing had my breaths coming double time, and I was pretty sure there was already a wet spot underneath me.
Looping the tie around my wrists, he tied a knot and pulled my arms until they were lying flat on the bed above my head. Then he looped the remainder of the tie around the corner bedpost and positioned my body so that I was stretched diagonally across the mattress.
He stood back and examined his captive. “How many men have you been with like this, Sabrina?” he asked, as he began undoing his belt.
“I’ve been with five men besides you.” My number felt large, even when I was sure that Donovan had likely had plenty more lovers than I’d had. “But I’ve never been with anyone like this.”
His eyes flared. “Never been tied to the bed before?”
“No.” I’d never been so thrilled I nearly came without being touched before either.
And it was more than that. Except for that one time in a small office at Harvard, I’d never been with a man who made me feel so completely turned on, as though every single one of my arousal buttons had been hit and not just one or two.
And now his belt was off and his cock was out, hard and thick and purple in the moonlight. I tried to sit up, wanting it in my mouth. Wanting to taste him the same way he’d tasted me.
But Donovan put his hands on my thighs, and with the bindings on my wrists, I couldn’t move very far. I definitely couldn’t get to him. It felt like all the years of yearning for him were compounded in this one moment and the torment was nearly unbearable.
I wriggled and pled. “Please, Donovan!”
“What?” He knew exactly what. There was even a hint of a laugh, as though he found my misery amusing.
“You’re cruel.”
“So you’ve said.” With a smile, he flipped me over so I was on my stomach and propped me on my knees. Then he stroked his hand down my back, pressing my head down. I peered back at him through my legs and saw him put one knee on the bed next to me, the other foot he left on the floor.
I heard the tear of a condom wrapper and watched as the foil fell to the floor. Again he ran his hand along my spine. This time when he reached my ass, he gave it a firm slap that made me jump. When I relaxed again, he was waiting with his cock to slam inside me.
“Fuck!” I cried into the pillow. Or I meant to, but it came out as some strangled sound I didn’t recognize.
The feeling, though—now that, I recognized. Donovan filled me so uniquely. Like no one else ever had, completely and totally, but it was also how he filled me that made my pussy crave him, how he moved inside me, how he bucked and raged, how he managed to go wild and yet master me all at the same time.
It was some form of magic or manipulation or maybe he just made me insane. I couldn’t say which. All I knew was that with each thrust of his cock, I felt myself slip further under his spell.
My first orgasm hit almost immediately.
The second took longer, growing torturously as Donovan drove into me, hitting me at just the right spot, and with each thrust, my nipples rubbed against the ties of the quilt below me. It couldn’t have been more agonizing if he had planted the quilt there. The yarn tickled my breasts and no matter how much I tried to adjust my position, I couldn’t get the pressure to be enough. Every time I attempted to raise my torso even an inch off the mattress, he would push me back down. As if he knew the torment I was suffering. As if he wanted me to suffer more.
And I loved it.
When my second orgasm hit, my body fell into spasms, writhing with ecstasy.
I was still thrashing when Donovan put both of his legs on the floor. He shifted me so that my body was now perpendicular on the bed, and just my wrists were bent at the post. With his fingernails digging into my hips, he hammered into me, chasing his own orgasm, which he found quickly.
Exhausted and overwhelmed, I fell on my side.
Immediately, my head started working, like it always did, but I forced all thoughts and judgment and regret from my mind. Those would come later. I knew that well enough from experience.
Donovan collapsed on the bed behind me, his breath ragged.
I closed my eyes and listened as his breathing evened out. It was a peaceful sound, and I wondered how long I’d get to hear it. He wasn’t the type to spend the night. He’d leave soon.
But I didn’t think about that. I just listened and breathed.
I was only vaguely aware when he shifted a few minutes later, only vaguely aware of the loosening of the binding at my wrists before I slipped into the contented haze of unconsciousness.
Chapter 19
I woke with a start, as if I’d been dreaming, but the only images in my mind were from real life. Images of Donovan over me, inside me. I could still feel him even though I knew immediately that the bed was empty.
It felt worse than I thought it would to wake up without him. I guess I hadn’t thought it would feel like anything, but it did. It felt hollow, like I’d forgotten to eat all day, yet my appetite was completely gone and the hollowness was both higher and lower than my stomach.
Other than the emptiness, though, I felt kind of amazing. Post-sex hormones lingered in my bloodstream, and my head spun in a weird euphoric haze. I stretched and my muscles screamed in protest, reminding me they’d been used in ways they hadn’t been used in quite some time. I rubbed my eyes and blinked. It was still dark, and I’d woken in the position I’d fallen asleep in, so I knew I hadn’t been out long. I rolled over to look at my alarm clock and nearly jumped out of my skin.
I wasn’t alone after all.
Donovan sat in the chair in the corner of my room, his elbow propped on the armrest, his chin in hand, watching me.
The clock said I’d been asleep for more than an hour. Had he sat there the whole time?
I shivered at the thought, but I didn’t pull a blanket over me. If he wanted to look, he could look. As far as I knew, it was the only thing keeping him here, and now that I had the choice, I wasn’t ready for him to go.
But he would go. I knew that. He’d told me before that he was the quick-to-escape kind of lover. If he were staying, he’d be naked in the bed with me. Instead, he was just as dressed as he’d been when he’d fucked me. His pants were still unfastened and now his tie was looped around his neck.
But maybe that’s why it thrilled me so much to find him still here, why it warmed me to think he’d been sitting there the whole time I’d slept—because he hadn’t left yet.
I sat up and tried to pat down the bird’s nest that had once been my hair.
“Were you even going to say goodbye?” I asked, pretending to balance accusation with acceptance when really I was hoping he’d say he’d changed his mind about going at all.
He smiled lazily. “I don’t know what you mean. I’m still here.”
“You’re just as much already gone.”
His face was in the shadows, but I could feel his expression sober even if I couldn’t see it. “I’m less gone than you’d imagine.”
My inner thig
hs clenched with desire, but the sincerity in his tone tugged at some emotion beyond lust. It made me brave. “Get in bed, then. Stay.”
He chuckled. “Sabrina, Sabrina,” he scolded. He stretched his legs out in front of him and crossed them at the ankle. Then, distinctly changing the subject, he asked, “Where did you get your name?”
Casual conversation wasn’t where I thought this was going, but his attention had a way of engaging me whatever the form. I swung my knees to one side and leaned my weight on the opposite hand. “My father. When they were thinking of names, he was reading the Milton poem about the nymph who saves the virgin.”
“Can’t say I read that one. Is Sabrina the virgin?”
“Sabrina is the savior.”
There was a beat of silence. “Huh. That wasn’t the answer I was expecting.”
For half a second, I wondered if I should be offended, but it was kind of amusing to think of myself as anyone’s savior. “I guess in our version of the story, Sabrina was the virgin.”
He didn’t say anything. Didn’t respond at all, just kept looking at me in the same piercing way he would all those years ago in Business Ethics class.
I used to hate it when he looked at me that way. I still did. Hated it because he seemed to see things I didn’t want him to see. Seemed to see things I didn’t even know about myself. Mostly I hated it because I liked it so much.
I cocked my head, wondering if I could see him the same way he saw me, but all I saw was a fiercely attractive man with the devil’s smile and dangerous sex appeal.
I’d let a dangerous devil in my bed. A dangerous devil who’d once been my savior. Could Donovan be any more of an enigma?
I let out a sigh. “Where did you get your name?”
He didn’t answer right away. “It was my great-grandmother’s maiden name. She claims that’s why I have the name, but I think my mother just liked the sound of it.”
It occurred to me that this was one of the only things Donovan had ever told me about his family or his personal life. It was small, but in some ways it was also really big, and I held it like it was precious.
“What does it mean?” I asked, hoping not to sound too eager.
“Dark warrior.” He shook his head. “I think she was expecting an entirely different kind of son.”
“But that fits our story. Dark warriors are totally the guys who save the virgins.” It was maybe too fitting. Too easy to romanticize. And I knew even without being able to clearly see his sneer that he didn’t appreciate the analogy.
Or maybe he didn’t like that we had an our story.
Now that I’d said it out loud, I wasn’t so sure I liked it either.
I tugged at my hair and stared out the window. What was I doing with this guy? What the hell did I imagine could happen next? Coworkers with benefits? We weren’t really friends, and it wasn’t like this could lead to anything romantic.
Could it?
“You’re a beautiful woman, Sabrina,” Donovan said, pulling my focus back to him.
It was the kind of statement that was usually followed by a but. When it didn’t come, I couldn’t resist questioning. “Am I?”
“Very.” His voice was thick and rough, like heavy sandpaper.
I glanced down at where the moonlight hit his lap and saw his cock bulging, its head peeking out over the band of his underwear.
Oh. So not a but.
Wherever this was going tomorrow, it was still tonight right now. And tonight I was wet and wanting and Donovan was hard and here.
I straightened, purposefully showing off my breasts. “Do I make you think dirty thoughts?”
“Mm,” he moaned. “Very dirty thoughts.” He kept his hands braced on the armrests, his eyes pinned on me.
“When I was younger, I used to have all sorts of dirty thoughts about you.” I didn’t know why I said it. I’d told him I’d had inappropriate thoughts about him back then. The information wasn’t exactly new.
“And not now?”
“Now too.” God, it was my last secret. How much I thought about him. How much he invaded my mind. “All the time.”
His grip tightened on the armrests, and my pussy fluttered in response. I liked telling him, I realized. I liked him knowing, just like I liked knowing he had dirty thoughts about me.
“Do you get yourself off when you have these dirty thoughts?”
“Yes.” I pressed my thighs together, seeking relief. I was so turned on.
“Show me.”
“Show you?” I’d heard what he’d said. And I knew what he meant. I just needed a second to process what I thought about the idea.
“Yes.” He sat up straighter in his chair, obviously eager. “And tell me. Tell me what I do to you in your imagination. Show me and tell me. Show and tell.” He smirked at his own pun.
“Well.” I’d never played with myself in front of someone else before. I’d never wanted to. Donovan was different though. He brought out different things in me, and saying no to him never crossed my mind, much less felt like an option.
I lay down on the bed, propping my head up with pillows so I could see him when I opened my legs. Now which scenario would I share? “There’s a few different…”
“Tell me your favorite,” he interrupted.
Variations on a rape. That was my favorite and most played out. No way was I telling him that. I’d stick with one of the more generic fantasies. Maybe the one where he threw me across his desk…
I closed my eyes and prepared the scene in my mind. Then I opened my mouth to begin.
“Now, be honest, Sabrina,” he said, cutting me off before I’d started. “It’s no fun if you aren’t honest.”
My heart thumped louder against my ribcage. Could I really tell him the truth about this? It was so dirty. So wrong.
I opened my eyes just enough to peek at him. He wouldn’t know if I lied, not if I made it good enough. But he was right—what would be the point of that? Wasn’t my whole fascination with him about this filthy daydream of mine anyway? Wouldn’t it be best to tell him so I could finally get this sick perversion out of my system?
No. I should tell him because it might be my only chance to live out this deepest, darkest fantasy. And feeding that need, that craving, that endless hunger, was reason enough to be worth it, humiliation and all.
And, honestly, as humiliating as the act was to think about, it was equally as hot. Hot because it was humiliating.
I took a deep breath. This time I didn’t close my eyes—I met Donovan’s instead. “You hold me down.” My voice sounded slow and monotone, like a narrator stripped of emotion, but even just that much of my story was enough to make Donovan’s eyes flare. “I can’t get away. You’ve muffled my screams. No one can hear me. No one can help me. You manage to get my pants down—”
“But you struggled first,” he added, in a similar matter-of-fact tone.
“Yes.” His addition to my fantasy surprised me, but it added to my arousal. My nipples immediately budded. I brought my hands to my breasts, caressing them, easing them from their sudden heaviness.
“How did you struggle?”
“I kneed you, but I didn’t get you where I aimed.” I lowered my glance to his cock and saw it had grown even bigger, which made my breath catch. “Fighting just turned you on more. You punish me with a hard bite on my nipple.”
He raised his brows, and I realized he wanted me to act this out how I would if he wasn’t there. Taking a nipple between my thumb and forefinger, I pinched and pulled as hard as I could.
“Harder,” he taunted.
I tugged harder and tears formed at the corners of my eyes. “Until it makes me cry.”
He adjusted slightly in his seat, as though his erection was growing uncomfortable, but he didn’t even touch himself. It made me antsy that he didn’t. I wanted to touch him. Wanted to rub my palm across his crown. Wanted to wrap my fingers around him and feel him throb in my hand.
If I couldn’t have that, then at t
he very least, I wanted to watch him do it.
Then I remembered—I had myself to touch. Spreading my legs wider, I pressed two fingers between my folds and began massaging the bundle of nerves in quick, aggressive circles. “You’re rubbing my clit now. You’re rough and you’re relentless, working me to orgasm.” I could already feel it building. This fantasy always brought me to climax fast. “I’m close.”
“Close to coming?” His voice was threadbare and ragged, a reflection of how I felt.
“Yes,” I panted. “You’re glad because you’re impatient and you want me to come. Not because you want me to feel pleasure, but because you hate going in dry.”
He grinned like he was admitting something. “Nice detail.”
I had my own confession to admit. “But what you don’t know is that I’m already wet.”
He threw his head back and groaned in the back of his throat. “Show me.”
Though I was teetering on the edge, I pulled my hand away from my clit and moved it lower where I dipped two fingers inside me. When I withdrew them, I held them up so that Donovan could see them glistening with my wetness.
“Jesus, Sabrina.” His expression tightened, and he bucked his pelvis in the air. I could feel his control abandoning him. Especially when I brought my fingers to my mouth and sucked them clean. “Are those my fingers?” he asked.
“Yes. You shove them so far down my throat I think I’ll gag.” I stick my fingers in my mouth again, shoving them in as far as I can.
“Fuck, the things I want to do to your mouth right now.” He shifted once more, and I could see his thighs tightening through his pants. “Then what?”
“Then you fuck me.” Watching him get aroused made me even more turned on. I writhed on the bed, trying to rub my pussy against the mattress. We were both miserable—surely we’d played enough of this game. I needed him inside of me. Now.
But he didn’t move.
“Fuck me, Donovan,” I begged. “Please!”
“No. You have to do it.” He was cold and in charge. “Show me how I fuck you.”
I whimpered, but I didn’t protest. There was no use arguing with him, and I knew it. Reaching down, I rammed several fingers inside my pussy, thrusting in as far as I could go.
Need you Now (Top Shelf Romance Book 2) Page 17