by Lilli Feisty
He took a hard tip between two fingers and pinched her softly. “Pinch you like this?”
“Harder.”
She felt his smile against her throat. The bastard already knew she didn’t like it gentle; he was torturing her once more. But then he pinched again, harder, this time sending a sharp pain through her body that shot to her pussy. She writhed against the open air, straining against the vines that held her bound.
Then she felt another jasmine vine on her skin, a fragrant whisper across her rib cage, between her breasts, around her neck and back again.
Silent, she waited as he manipulated the vine around her breasts, her sides, her neck. The feel of his fingers brushing her skin, the silky flowers caressing her sensitive flesh, were like erotic pinpricks covering her wherever they touched.
Jasmine enveloped her upper body. It came together in the center of her breasts to spread out again, wrapping around her ribs toward the back. She felt him tie off the vines in the middle of her spine, leaving her in a cupless bra of leaves and flowers.
His hands were on her breasts again, pinching, kneading, pulling. The leaves and stems were slightly scratchy on her skin and somehow heightened the tingling at her nipples.
“Please,” she gasped, throwing her head back against his neck. “Touch me… I’m so wet.”
“If only you weren’t so disobedient.”
“I’m not…”
“You are. I recall asking you to feed me a certain strawberry earlier at dinner. Do you remember that?”
She whimpered. Her pussy was dripping, the juice sticky on her inner thigh.
His hot breath on her ear sent shivers over her skin. “You were a greedy thing, weren’t you? You couldn’t share that berry with me. And I wanted to taste you so badly, Ruby.”
“I’m sorry, Mark; just touch me, please.”
He teased her nipple, tweaked until she cried out, the sound drowning in the roar of ocean waves.
“My mouth was watering for it. You had your pussy juice right in front of my mouth. I could smell it.” He skated his hand across her rib cage and she felt him span her abdomen, hip bone to hip bone.
“Lower,” she begged, squirming.
“Tell me something first.” He still held her left breast in his palm, and he squeezed her.
“Anything.” Just touch me.
“Tell me what you tasted like,” he said.
“See for yourself.”
“So naughty. So defiant.” His fingers inched lower, and she bucked forward. But the evil man did not go low enough. “Ruby darling, maybe you’re not as submissive as I originally thought.”
“You’ll never find out,” she said, twisting against him, teasing him.
“We’ll see.” His voice was even, but his cock jerked against her ass. Oh, how she wanted to feel him inside her. Filling her. Fucking her.
Again he took her nipple in his fingers and twisted until she writhed in ecstasy. “Yes, Ruby. Get even wetter for me.”
“Fuck me, Mark. Now.”
“I will, but not until you tell me what that strawberry tasted like.”
Her face burned, but she ground out the words. “Acidic, sweet. Juicy. It tasted like your fingers that night in the limo.”
“Did you like it? Did you like the taste of yourself?”
She bit her lip.
He twisted her nipple.
“Yes! I liked it. And I liked knowing you wanted it and denying you.”
“Is that a fact?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I love to see you turned on, to know I’m turning you on and torturing you at the same time,” she said, not quite believing she’d said it.
So close, his finger was so close to her clit she could feel the heat of his skin.
“Mark, just touch me.”
“Where?”
“My pussy. My clit.”
“Good girl.” His head slanted next to hers, and he released her breast to guide her mouth to his. She sucked his tongue into her mouth as his fingers—finally!—found her pussy, opening her wide.
One finger, then two slid into her. In and out. She fucked him back, barely aware of the unfamiliar sounds coming from her throat; her body had taken over her mind and now she let him take her to the edge and beyond, until she knew her own body couldn’t be trusted to hold her upright.
And when she climaxed he was there to catch her.
* * *
Mark thought he’d never seen anything so beautiful as Ruby, bound in jasmine and glowing in the moonlight.
She was so small, so delicate. Yet her breasts were lush, filled his palms perfectly. Her hips flared out in gentle curves from a tiny waist. Her hair was wild and long and darker than night, emphasizing her fair skin. Here, on the beach with the ocean crashing in the background, she looked otherworldly, like a nymph from the sea.
Her body still shivered, her vaginal walls clenching around his fingers. He should let her wait, recover. But he’d been waiting so long already, since the second she’d stepped off the curb and peered at him through the Ferrari window. His cock had gone hard at the sight of her in her prim getup; he couldn’t wait to see her undone.
And now she was.
“Oh, fuck, baby. I’m so goddamn hard for you.”
“I know.” She wiggled her backside against his straining cock and he nearly exploded.
“Hang on.” With a flick of his knife he released her wrists from the jasmine vines. Then she turned to face him. Her eyes were wide, glossy, and dark.
He took off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders. She slid her arms into the sleeves, but her hands didn’t even reach the hems.
“Do you have a condom?” she asked.
Nodding, he pulled a silver packet from his jeans pocket.
“Allow me,” she said, grinning impishly. Then she dropped to her knees before him.
That sight alone was enough to make him lose control, and he bit back a groan.
She pushed the sleeves of his coat up to reveal her hands, and he handed her the condom. His balls were so goddamn tight, sweat beaded at his brow. He clenched his hands at his sides, fighting to stay in control. Because it was so hard not to throw her on the sand and fuck her. So hard when her delicate fingers were unbuttoning his jeans, pulling them down his legs, along with his boxers, until his cock was free. Her eyes widened and she licked her lips. “I barely got to see you the other night. You’re quite impressive,” she said with a naughty grin.
“You can look all you like. Later.”
But she took his shaft in her hand, circled him in her warm grasp. He felt himself pulsing against her palm, throbbing for her. When she leaned down and licked a drop of cum from the swollen head of his cock his entire body jerked.
“Is this what you wanted earlier? When I had that strawberry in my mouth? You wanted me to lick it like this?” She licked him some more, slid her teeth across that sensitive part of him, nibbled the swollen head of his cock.
“Mmm. Much tastier than even a chocolate-dipped strawberry. I could do this all night.”
“Put the condom on, Ruby.”
“Fine,” she said in a pouty voice. “But why do you get to have all the fun?”
“Because I’m the top and you’re the bottom,” he ground out.
“Maybe. I’m still thinking about what you said, that maybe I’m not as submissive as you thought I was. Or I think I am.”
“Ruby…”
She tore open the condom wrapper and unrolled it over his shaft. When she reached the base he lifted her up and she instinctively straddled him. She was so light he could hold her body and place her exactly where he wanted her, which was with her pussy nestled right against his erection.
With a groan, he slid into her. “Fuck, Ruby. You’re so tight… you feel so goddamn good.”
She rocked her hips, taking him deeper, as deep as she could.
He backed her against the trunk of the cypress, going into her deeply, then p
ulling out and entering her again. She smiled. His jacket protected her skin from the bark of the tree as he plunged into her again, harder and faster. Found a rhythm. She reached between their bodies and took both her breasts in her hands, toyed with her nipples until they were hard again. Her arms rubbed against the jasmine vine he’d bound her breasts with, the perfume wafting between them in a rich scent.
“Yes, Mark… don’t stop. Don’t let go.”
“Never, baby. I’ve got you.”
She closed her eyes, arched against him. “Yes, like that.”
He grasped her thighs, hard, knowing his hands would leave prints on her skin. But he couldn’t let go. He needed this, needed to have her exactly right so he could feel her fully. So he could go as deep as she’d let him. So he could make her his.
She gasped, stilled. Then cried out, cried his name, and he felt her body spasm around his cock, coaxing him over the edge. Making him slam one last time into her before he exploded.
And he heard himself whispering into her ear, nonsensical, unfamiliar words. “Never, baby. Never so good. Ruby, my sweet, Ruby. Mine. Never this fucking good.”
After his shudders had stopped, she took his face between her hands and placed a sweet, delicate kiss on his lips. “Promise me something, will you, Mark?”
“Anything.” And, to his surprise, he realized he meant it. “Anything,” he repeated.
She met his gaze. “When you leave, don’t say good-bye. Just go.”
Something in him went cold. “Who said anything about good-bye?”
She shrugged, trying to appear indifferent but failing. “Everyone has to leave sometime, right?”
“Good-bye’s not forever.”
“I mean what I said. I really, really hate saying good-bye. I turn into a blubbering idiot, and I’m wrecked for days. Happens every time. And, despite my best efforts, I think it would be really hard to say good-bye to you.”
He just stared at her, took in this beautiful, disheveled, sex-flushed woman named Ruby whose body was still clenching around his cock. She was offering him perfection. Phenomenal sex with a gorgeous girl. The temporariness he always craved, but without the guilt that went with it. She’d give him what he wanted, and when it was time to go, he could just walk away. Without even the bother of saying good-bye.
Yeah, perfection.
So why did it feel like he’d just been kicked in the teeth?
He pulled out of her and set her on her feet. Managed a smile. “Yeah, baby. Sure.” He pulled off the condom and tossed it into a rusty old garbage can.
She snuggled deeper into his jacket. “Great. Thank you.”
“No problem.” He yanked up his jeans. “Whatever you want, baby. Whatever you want.”
Chapter
Twelve
What’s that?” The minute Ruby walked into the office Monday morning, Meg’s gaze shot to her throat.
Ruby dropped her messenger bag on her desk. “What? Oh, this? Mark gave it to me.”
“Well, well, well. That’s quite a present.”
Ruby shrugged off her coat. “Hey, I’ve never turned down diamonds,” Ruby said with a smile. “It’s not like I have a humongous rock on my hand to flash around.” Ruby nodded at the three-carat diamond ring on Meg’s left hand. “How are things with Emmett, anyway?”
From behind a stack of silk flowers, Meg said, “The same.”
“Have you used the you-know-what yet?” Ruby asked, referring to their jaunt to the sex store.
“No, I haven’t.” Meg shrugged. “Emmett’s barely been home, and I just haven’t had the opportunity to say, ‘Hey, hubs. How’s about you bend over for me and let me try out my new paddle?’ ” She tried to sound flippant, but Ruby heard the sadness in her friend’s voice.
“You just need to make time to talk with him.”
“I know,” she said and changed the subject. “I’m going to call the Riders’ manager and hammer out a final date for the Fling.” She picked up her phone and dialed.
Ruby let it drop. She wanted to help Meg, but she wasn’t sure how. She wasn’t even sure if she was handling her own love life with the caution she should be. No matter how hard she tried to tell herself this thing with Mark was casual sex, after last night she knew it was so much more than that. She’d opened herself up to him, physically and emotionally, and he’d gotten into her head.
And she couldn’t get that damn smell of jasmine out of her nose!
She went to the bathroom to wash her hands one more time, trying to get rid of the scent, and she returned to their office just in time to see Meg flipping her phone shut. “You’re not going to believe this, but the Riders can only perform on the twenty-eighth.”
“What?”
“Yup.” Meg nodded. “Their manager said they’re booked solid after that.”
Ruby did a quick calculation. “That’s three weeks away.”
“Yup.”
“Three weeks?” Ruby dropped into the chair behind her desk. “Three measly weeks?”
Meg crossed the office to the bookshelf. “You know, no matter how many times you say it, you’re still only going to have three weeks to plan this Spring Fling.”
Under the table, Ruby kicked off her pumps. “Hopefully that date works for James Cleaver.”
“Speaking of whom, did he ever ask you out?”
“No, but he’s becoming more and more flirtatious. I don’t know what to think.”
“He certainly takes his sweet-assed time. I mean, it was obvious to everyone that he was into you at the Christmas party,” Meg said, dropping into a chair opposite Ruby.
Ruby shrugged. “Who knows?”
“Wait a minute. You used to be dying for Mr. Perfect to ask you out. Now you act like you couldn’t care less.” Meg leaned across the desk. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing! I mean, I just don’t want to get my hopes up.” But the words sounded false and dry. Because it seemed any man paled in comparison to Mark, even Mr. Cleaver.
“Anyway,” Ruby said. “Let’s just hope James can make the twenty-eighth work.”
“You just got the hottest band around to play at a private company event. He’s gonna make it work.” She went to the door and put her hand on the knob. “So call him. I’ll be in the prop room, digging for inspiration.”
After Meg left, Ruby picked up the phone and dialed James Cleaver’s number. Of course, just when he answered, the steady thud of Mark’s music in the next room hit her, reminding her that Mark was just down the hall, recording with Emmett. So close.
“Ruby?”
She snapped her attention back to the phone. “Yes! I’m sorry, James. Emmett’s recording today, so things are a bit noisier than usual.”
“I completely understand. So, gorgeous. How’s my favorite event planner doing today?”
“Great! I’m doing just great.” He was flirting, definitely. James Cleaver, who was so nice and normal and perfect. He was reliable, everything she wanted, and he was finally showing an interest in her. So, she should be doing her best to get him to ask her out, not squeezing her legs together, trying to lower her response to being in the same building as a certain musician she wished she could say no to.
She shook her head. “Good news. Great news, in fact. The Dark Riders have agreed to play your show.”
Thump thump thump. The music was getting louder, making it difficult to concentrate. Making her hot. She loosened the pink scarf tied neatly around her neck. “The possible problem is that they can only play on the twenty-eighth, just three weeks away.”
“Can you put the event together in such a short time frame?”
Can you spend three weeks around Mark St. Crow without falling for him?
“Definitely,” she said, nodding to herself. “I certainly can.” No more spankings, no more dinners. No more jasmine. She brought her wrist to her nose and sniffed. It smelled like skin, not jasmine.
“Then we’re on,” James said. “I knew you could do it, Ruby. You’re
the best, you really are.”
“Thank you, James.”
There was a long pause, and then she heard him take in a breath. “Ruby, I was wondering if you would go out with me sometime. Maybe dinner?”
“Oh, sure, James. That would be nice.” She realized she should be much, much happier with his invitation than she was.
“Great! I mean, how about this weekend?”
Tap tap clink, tap tap clink; the beat had shifted, becoming slower, more dynamic.
“Ruby?”
“Um… ,” she found herself hesitating. “Let’s do it after the Spring Fling. I’m just… slammed between now and then.”
“Sure, sure. That sounds great.”
She opened her top desk drawer, looking for that smell. “Aha!” On top of a neat row of pencils was a jasmine vine, the end tucked into a small vial of water.
“Pardon?”
“Nothing. So, thanks for the dinner invitation. I’ll e-mail you the contract and we’ll get started.”
“Sounds good. I’ll talk to you soon, gorgeous.”
She hung up and slumped onto her desk, resting her forehead on a pile of papers. The music was louder now, and it seemed to be vibrating through the entire building, thumping into her forehead like some kind of medieval torture. Each note seemed to carry his presence, made her want to go to him.
Made her want to be tied up again.
Made her want to be spanked again.
Made her want to submit again. To him.
Yeah, she wanted those things, but each time she let it happen, she unlocked her heart a little more. Got a bit more vulnerable. Got a bit more scared.
She yanked open the drawer, removed the jasmine vine, and ran upstairs to Meg’s kitchen, where she threw the flowers into the trash can.
Her doorbell rang at seven-thirty that night, and when she answered it she heard Mark’s voice through the staticky call box.
“Let me up, Ruby,” he said. “You managed to avoid me all day, but you can’t run away now.”
“I wasn’t avoiding you.” But she had been. She’d snuck away from the office, waiting until she was sure he was busy playing music before she rushed past the studio and ran down the steps.