Thief of Hearts Boxed Set
Page 9
And he did it all without losing a beat.
He’d come in a second…but not before her, never before her. He straightened so he could reach down and tweak her nipples, pinching hard between his fingers. She cried out, but her hips kept moving. Yeah, his Kate loved some pain with her pleasure. He thrust harder, faster, butting against her cervix with each downstroke, until she closed her eyes and gave rhythmic little mewling cries, her face contorted with passion.
Sweat dripped off his brow and landed on her stomach, but she didn’t seem to notice. It looked like she was straining, working to reach her climax. Not with him in charge. He twisted her nipple again, then grabbed her hips to pull her in tandem with his thrusts, pounding hard and fast.
He slid one hand over her heaving belly, stroking through her pussy hair until his thumb found her clit. He strummed it hard, and she gave a strangled cry. Too much? No, her knees lifted, opening wide, spreading herself for him like nothing else mattered but getting fucked. Her boss could have walked in with the entire Board of Supervisors and she wouldn’t have cared.
Oh, there was a thought. Fucking Kate in public…yeah, he’d like an audience. Putting his stamp on her, showing everyone that he was the one who got her hot.
He kept thrusting deep and steady, kept his thumb moving, grinding his teeth to hold on to the shattered edge of control. Her head whipped from side to side, exposing the little bruises he’d bitten into her neck last night. A collar would look good next to those hickeys—a studded black leather collar circling her slender, aristocratic neck. Ties binding her wrists overhead, stretching her arms until her milky white breasts jutted out…her legs held open on one of those torture chairs he’d seen in a cheesy porno movie. But this was Kate, not some drugged out anorexic pornstress. Kate’s lush breasts, bouncing above a black leather corset. Kate’s nipples with clamps on them.
Kate’s nipples with exotic piercings through them.
Shit, yes.
Someday he’d do all of that to her and more. And he’d never let her dictate how long their fucking would take again.
He scratched over her nipple with a fingernail. She screamed, wailing like a banshee, a cry of pure, aching passion. And then she came, gripping his cock with pulsing waves of contractions. She moaned and jerked, writhing on the table until her breasts came completely free of her bra. Her hands clutched his biceps with bruising force, and her hips jogged across the table with her shudders, moving her dangerously far from him. He held her waist down, thrusting over and over while her climax eased into short little tremors.
Head thrown back, teeth gritted, he let her contractions milk him into a mind-searing orgasm. And still he fucked her. His cock was on autopilot, demanding every last thrust, keeping the rhythm going even as he shook with deep wrenching shudders. He didn’t stop until his cock softened inside her.
In the sudden silence, his panting breath seemed abnormally loud. Blood thundered in his ears, slowly receding. His unsteady gaze focused on her face, but she was looking down at her chest, fumbling with her shirt buttons. She’d already tucked her breasts back into her bra.
Her gaze caught his for an instant before she looked away again. Embarrassed? “I wish I had time for another shower. You made me sweaty.”
And women criticized men for insensitive pillow talk. She could at least wait until he’d pulled out before starting to carp on him. A “thank you for the orgasm” would have been nice. “We can take one together later.”
She pushed back on the table until his cock slid out of her, then scooted to the side and sat up, futzing with her blouse and jacket, smoothing down her skirt. The paper towel holder was off to one side of the table, and she tore off a few sections and dabbed surreptitiously between her thighs, tilting her wrist to glance at her watch. A small tsk was the only comment she made.
He tossed the condom into the trashcan under the sink, then tucked his cock into his briefs and zipped his jeans. Not once did she look at him, not even when he held out a hand to take the wad of paper towels. He trashed it without a word.
Her nylons and underpants were a twisted mess on the floor. When she reached for them, he stepped over and put his foot down on top of them.
That got her attention. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Don’t wear them.”
Her mouth fell open. “I can’t go to work with bare legs.”
He cocked an eyebrow at her. “Will people be looking at your legs?”
“They might. It’s very conservative at the D.A.’s office. I can’t go in looking like a tramp. Or even the least bit unprofessional.”
From the controlled tone of her voice, they might have just had breakfast instead of a hot fuck on her kitchen table. He scooped up the silky clothes, untangled them, and handed her the nylons. “You can wear these. The panties are mine.” He shoved the scrap of silk into his front pocket.
Now she seemed puzzled. She looked at the pantyhose in her hand, then slid off the table. “Fine, keep them. I’ll go get a clean pair.”
“No.” He all but shouted the word. “You’re not going to wear panties today, Kate. Is that clear?”
Her stubborn frown was all too familiar. “Look, Jake. The fact that I let you sleep with me doesn’t mean you have permission to treat me like a whore.”
“I’m not treating you like a whore. I’m treating you like—”Like a submissive. Would it piss her off to hear it? What the hell, it was true. “I’m treating you like a submissive.”
She seemed to freeze in shock. “I’m not…In bed, maybe, but not…” Her shoulders went back then, and she straightened. Even at her full height, she didn’t come up to his chin. “We play games in bed. Not in real life.”
“There’s no difference.” And it’s not a game.
“Don’t be ridiculous.”
He took the panties out of his pocket and held them out to her. When her fingertips brushed the fabric, he tore them in half right in front of her.
She gasped and put her fists on her hips. “How dare you?”
Reaching out, he pulled her closer with one strong arm across her back. With his free hand, he rubbed the tattered remnants of her panties against her lips. She pulled back, but not hard. She could have gotten free if she wanted to—and clearly she didn’t really want to.
He stroked her cheek with the soft fabric. “Don’t make me tear up every pair in your bedroom.” He meant it, too…and almost hoped she’d challenge him to do it.
“I can wear pantyhose, but not panties?” She sounded hesitant, her voice all but a whisper. Good.
“For today.” Let her think he’d let her wear panties tomorrow. Maybe he would. All he knew for sure was that he wanted to exercise complete sexual control over her. In bed, and out.
She bent and slid the hose on, carefully pulling them over her bare bottom. Under the translucent, tight nylons, every detail of her crotch showed, every pussy hair was outlined in loving glory. If he had time he could count them. Even though he’d just been drained, his cock twitched a little.
With shaking fingers, she smoothed down her skirt and stepped into her shoes, resting one hand on the table for balance. He got her purse from the floor and handed it to her.
She hiked the strap of the purse over her shoulder and took her briefcase in the crook of her arm. “Let’s go. I can’t afford to be this late.” Her tone reeked of I’m back in charge. Like a State trooper, she turned her back to him and marched toward the door.
“Kate.”
The hint of a threat in his voice was enough to stop her. This was progress; he didn’t even need to touch her to make her follow his commands.
“Yes?” She spoke without turning.
“Don’t put on underpants at all today. I mean it.”
“Will you punish me?” The words were breathless, flirty, but he wasn’t in the mood for teasing. Not after he’d had to practically beg her to meet him later.
“Yes. But if you disobey me, you won’t like the punishmen
t.”
The long pause told him that she’d been planning to do exactly that. Without a word or a nod, she walked to the door.
The gauntlet had been thrown.
Chapter Two
Kate took the turn onto the ramp a little too fast, nearly clipping the right-side barrier at the entrance to the parking garage. Damn Jake for making her late to work. Damn herself for letting him. When he gave her that caveman attitude, she melted into a puddle at his feet.
She barreled down to the third level, where the newbie Assistant D.A.s like her had parking spots. A golden BMW came up out of nowhere, honking. Heart in her throat, she slammed on the brakes, gripping the steering wheel as though her hands could pull the front fender back from the brink.
A squeal of tires, but no crunch of metal. Whew. She didn’t know the guy behind the wheel, but he gave a grudging shake of his head and waited for her to pass before moving on up the ramp. He had a cell phone earpiece and his lips were moving—no doubt talking about the crazy woman who’d nearly ruined his morning—but even though he was the one on the phone, she was the distracted one.
Being late and flustered was no reason to get into an accident. She drove more cautiously down the winding ramp, but saw no one. The lot was practically full; easy to spot her space, with so few vacancies. She pulled in between her neighbors and turned off the engine with fingers that trembled slightly.
She glanced at her watch. Eight thirty. Great, now she wouldn’t have much time to prep before her nine o’clock. When she twisted in the seat to grab her purse and briefcase, the wool of her skirt prickled through the thin nylons, scratching her bottom. Blood rushed to her privates at the slight discomfort. Jake had been right last night—she was a slut for pain. After only one night, he knew far too much about her. Everything about the man was dangerous, and now he had a ton of ammunition to use against her.
She slid out of the car, careful to keep the hem of her skirt down. Not much chance of anyone seeing her crotch, but why risk it? The D.A.’s office was a hornet’s nest, with everyone vying for political appointments. The last thing she needed was to be seen without underpants.
The garage was silent except for the steady hum of the air filtration system and the sharp click of her heels on the concrete floor as she walked briskly to the elevator. She pushed the call button, and the doors opened immediately.
The elevator slowly eased upward, only to stop on the very next floor. The man who stepped on was familiar—tall and lanky, with full lips and sandy blonde hair. “Hello, Katherine. How are you?”
“Good morning, Arthur.” She smiled despite a sudden rush of nervousness. What if he could smell the sex on her? Her heart tripped at the thought, and not entirely in fear.
If Jake had her alone in an elevator, he’d have a hand under her skirt. Was Arthur thinking the same thing? He seemed like the domineering type—a talented prosecutor, about ten years older than her and far above her on the career ladder. Every time she saw him in court, his handling of witnesses impressed her. Maybe he liked to lose control in the bedroom. Was it her imagination, or was he standing a little closer than necessary?
She glanced up and met his gaze. Startled, she looked away quickly, but not before catching a flash of speculation in his deep gray eyes. If the man was a mind reader, she’d be in big trouble. All she could think about was sex.
She’d kept a lid on her fantasies in the past, never allowing herself to think of Arthur or any of her co-workers this way. But now, alone with him in such a small space, her privates warm and swollen from sex, she could think of nothing else. If he pulled her close and kissed her roughly, like Jake had in her kitchen, she’d give him anything he wanted. He wouldn’t even have to ask. All he’d have to do was push her against the wall, grind his mouth on hers…shove his hand under her skirt to yank down her nylons. Without panties, the job would be that much easier.
Her heart beat faster, picturing the scene.
They could stop the elevator between floors—the alarm wouldn’t go off for some reason—and Arthur would strip her nylons down and bend her over. He’d leave her shoes on—not like Jake—and spread her legs as far as the hose allowed. He wouldn’t say a word; he’d make demands with his hands, with the brute force of his body. She’d lean against the wall, biting her lips to silence her moans, enjoying the pain she inflicted on herself while he pounded into her from behind.
Or he’d push her to her hands and knees, covering her like a stallion with a mare in heat. God, she was in heat. She’d had a mind blowing orgasm less than an hour ago, and her pussy was already throbbing for more.
A movement to her side caught her attention—Arthur shifting his briefcase to his other hand. His hands were nice, with well-manicured fingernails. Such long fingers… She felt a rush of moisture between her thighs, making her pantyhose sticky and wet. Jake had her primed, until every situation brought out a Pavlovian sexual response.
Jake. What would he do if he caught her messing around with Arthur? Maybe he’d force her to fuck them both…not that he’d have to use much force. Good lord, what kind of woman was she turning into?
Ding.
Thank goodness. Without a glance at the suddenly sexy Arthur, she mumbled, “See you later” and fled.
Spacious and open, the office of the District Attorney was as noisy as any newsroom. Phones rang incessantly, people chattered over cubicle walls, and photocopiers whirred, clicked and clanged as huge volumes of paper were copied, sorted, and stapled automatically. The din barely registered as she made a beeline for her office. Her co-workers were a blur, but she managed to give each of them a vague wave as she passed.
Her office was small, barely large enough to hold a battered wooden desk, two filing cabinets, and a couple of client chairs, but today it felt like a sanctuary. She closed the door behind her and leaned against it, heart pounding. A bead of moisture slowly trickled down between her breasts. She squeezed her thighs tight, but the soreness in her muscles only served to remind her of the reason she felt so off balance—Jake Monroe.
Jake would have punished her for looking at another man like that. He’d threatened that she wouldn’t like the punishment if she put on panties…little did he know, there was no punishment he could mete out that she wouldn’t enjoy. When he’d given her those two little slaps on her bare behind, she’d almost begged him to spank her hard and long. Next time, she would. Her throat went dry, and she sank into the chair behind her desk.
Jake had her totally confused. She didn’t like the way he pushed her around, the way he threatened her, the way he made her late for work…
She didn’t like it, but she loved it.
It made no sense. She’d always dated decorous men. The men like Jake had been harmless fantasies, but she knew better than to take one of them to bed. Somehow Jake Monroe had slipped under her natural radar, and now she was in the thick of trouble. Jake was an unknown quantity. A man she couldn’t control.
He’d done things to her no man had ever tried before. Spanking, bondage, pain, anal sex…oh, she’d never imagined how erogenous anal sex could be. And Jake enjoyed every part of it. The way he’d bent her over the table and licked her butt so eagerly, as though he was starving for her…just the thought made her shiver. And he’d given her the freedom of pretending to be forced into it.
She bit back a moan and froze. Unconsciously, her fingers had been toying with one of her own nipples through the fabric of her blouse.
In this state, she’d never be able to focus during the depositions. She needed some relief, pronto. Otherwise she’d picture herself having sex with every other man in the room, until her words were incomprehensible and the back of her skirt had a wet spot. But could she really masturbate at work?
No, she’d have to ignore it. Only three hours until lunch. She’d meet Jake at the nearest hotel and let him scratch this insatiable itch. Certainly she could wait three hours. After all, before Jake had come along she’d been waiting over three years.
That decided it. Satisfaction took precedence over decorum. Besides, no one would know.
Or would they? Her office door locked, but at this time of day someone could stop by. There’d be a flurry of gossip if her door was found locked the minute she got to work. Last year, they’d found a paralegal intern doing coke that way. Even if they didn’t suspect her of doing drugs, a locked door would raise all kinds of suspicions. The building would be buzzing within minutes.
But where could she…
The ladies’ room. She could spare five minutes, get some relief, then come back with a cooler head to review files before the deposition. No one would consider it odd; lots of people freshened up before a meeting. She stowed her purse in her desk drawer and locked it, then hightailed it down the hall to the restroom. Everyone would think she’d suddenly gotten her period, the way she was rushing through the corridor, but she didn’t care.
The room was empty, thank goodness, with every stall door open in silent proof. She went to the farthest one, locked the swinging metal door, and ripped a handful of tissue from the dispenser.
Heart pounding, she lifted her skirt and slid trembling fingers down the front of her hose. The first brush of tissue against her aching clit felt like sandpaper. Breathless, she slid her legs farther apart and leaned against the cold metal wall at her back, rubbing the wet cream from her pussy over her clit in tight little circles.
If Jake knew what she’d been thinking about Arthur, what would he do? He’d fuck her, definitely, but more than that. Her breath came faster, her fingers sped up. Jake would spank her, hard stinging slaps. He’d turn her over his knee like a naughty schoolgirl. Maybe he’d make Arthur watch.
Oh, that was kinky. What else would he do? He’d let Arthur toy with her, tease her, fuck her. No, not fuck her. Her pussy belonged to Jake alone.