by Skye Jordan
“Not the boxed kind,” she said, tilting her head, her gaze stroking his lips as if she could barely resist licking them. “My own, healthier, version.”
When he met her gaze again, his mind whirling with the sweet gesture, Julia looked hot and hungry. She reached out and wiped something from his lip with her thumb. She lifted her dark eyes to his, and a dirty little grin played at the edge of her mouth. “I’d wear a collar for you,” she said quietly. “If, I mean, that turned you on.”
Noah had barely registered the comment when she pushed off the sofa and returned to the kitchen, leaving him there to burn a hole in the cushion.
For the next hour, Noah couldn’t think about anything but Julia in a collar. A collar and heels. A collar and heels and nothing else. Red leather. Diamond studs. High on her throat. One with a metal ring to attach a chain or a rope…
A collective gasp yanked Noah out of the fantasy—one that didn’t really get any further because he’d never been into the sexual-control gig. Didn’t even know what BDSM stood for, just that it involved whips and chains and all sorts of things that didn’t interest him.
Unless it involved Julia wearing a collar. Then he might be interested. Right now he was a lot restless. Too restless to care what had happened on the television that had everyone in the room muttering curses. Someone had taken a bad fall. Noah could calculate just how bad by the collective reaction in the room, and he didn’t want to look. Didn’t want to know. It gave him flashbacks of his own crash.
Julia came around the corner of the living room, her gaze on the screen. “What happened?”
“Braunhauf ate it—bad,” Jake told her.
Noah glanced at the screen, where a medical team wearing red-and-yellow jumpsuits stood out against the crisp white mountainside. His stomach squeezed like a fist. Sweat broke out on his upper lip. Then the replay of the fall began, and Noah looked away and tried to shake the memories of his own fall from his head.
Julia hissed through her teeth. “Torn ligaments in her ankle and her knee for sure. Probably a fractured tibia too. She’s out for the season, but she’ll be back next year.”
“You get that from a short clip?” Finn asked, shocked.
She shrugged like it was no big deal.
Noah pushed from the sofa and turned into the kitchen. He pulled the handle on the sink and splashed icy water on his face until the soft touch of Julia’s hand lay on his back. He hit the tap but stared into the sink.
“Flashback?” she asked softly.
“Little bit.” He straightened, hands clasped on the edge of the sink, water dripping off his chin. “But I was knocked off-balance before that. Something about a collar…”
“Oh.” A tentative smile turned her mouth. “So you like the idea?”
He grabbed her wrist and yanked it against his crotch. She gasped a soft “Oh.” Then registered the thick hard-on beneath her hand with widened eyes with an “Oh” of realization. Then began stroking him with a knowing “Oh.”
He pulled her hand away and stepped back. “Yeah, oh.”
That wicked little smile remained. “Just the thought of a collar does this, huh?”
“Just the mention of the word…” God, he couldn’t even say it.
“What part of the collar turns you on? The control? The look?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never done collars.”
Her brows shot up. “There’s something you haven’t done?”
Fucking tease. “You have?”
“No. It would take a very special man to get me into a collar. I wouldn’t let just anyone take control.”
His gut did that windmill thing again. “And I’m that man?”
“You tell me. What do you envision when you think of me in a collar?”
He glanced toward the living room, where the guys were chatting about the next race. “Can’t do this now.”
“Red?” she asked. “Black? Leather? Satin? Spikes? Studs?”
“Julia…” he warned.
“With lingerie? Lace teddy? Thigh-highs? Or naked? Nothing but skin? Skin, spiked heels, and a collar?”
He swore under his breath, one hand squeezing the sink so hard his fingers tingled from the lack of blood flow.
“On my knees? On all fours? Restrained on my back?”
Sweat reaccumulated across his brow. “Jesus Christ.”
She moved closer, lowered her voice to that husky whisper she knew turned him on. “If I had to guess, I’d say your preference would be…” She leaned even closer, her scent infiltrating his head and making him dizzy. “Red leather collar, studs, no spikes. Tight. Matching spiked heels. On my back, legs spread wide.”
He closed his eyes and groaned. “Fuck.”
“Oh yes. That will be happening the second these guys are out the door. You can count on it.”
“Why wait? I could fuck you in three minutes flat right now.”
“The king of orgasms-until-I-scream wants a three-minute fuck?”
“No. That’s not what I want. It’s what I need.”
“Do you have any idea how much you wanting me so badly turns me on?”
He opened his eyes but couldn’t find his voice.
She licked her bottom lip, then scraped it between her teeth as she darted a look toward the living room. Everyone was cheering at something on the television. Julia covered his hand with hers and pressed it to the flat of her stomach underneath her shirt. She sucked in her belly, and with her gaze hot and deliberate on his, she pushed their joined hands into her jeans, over her mound, and deep between her legs.
Noah closed his eyes and clenched his teeth.
“Feel how wet I am?” she whispered, her forehead pressing his. “Touch me.”
He stroked her lips, slick and hot and warm. Lust washed his body. “Jesus Christ.”
“You could make me come in ten seconds.” Her feathery voice skipped with desire. “But then I’d scream…and you’d…have a lot of explaining…”
“Noah,” Finn yelled. Both he and Julia froze, their eyes opening and holding. “Bring me another brew, would you?”
“Fucking Finn,” he rasped, making Julia bubble out a laugh. “Sure,” he called, wincing with regret as he drew his hand back. “Anything for you, buddy.”
Noah had just turned away from Julia when Mercer and Jake came in, each holding an empty tray. They slid them onto the counter, and Noah met Julia’s eyes, their gazes communicating shit, that was close. Then her mouth turned with a secret smile just for him, and his heart folded. He was so gone over this woman.
“What else have you got for us, Julia?” Mercer asked.
“Yeah,” Jake said, “those mushroom things were awesome.”
“Those mushroom things were crab-stuffed portabella. And they are good.”
“Finger-licking good,” Noah added, raising a finger to his mouth, one with her juices clinging to his skin. The spark in her eye as she watched him lick her from his finger in a room filled with his friends had to be the hottest thing Noah had ever seen.
He licked his lips. “I’m starting the barbecue, guys. Main course will be ready in thirty.”
Noah just about shoved the guys out the door, then flipped the lock, turned, and leaned against the wood and glass with a sigh of relief. It was already dark outside, and the house was quiet now. Between eating and watching the championships, Julia had cleaned up and disappeared. He walked through the kitchen and peered out the window toward the guesthouse but found all the lights were off.
He turned toward the stairs, but his bedroom was dark. “Julia?”
“Waiting.” Her voice came from right where he wanted her, and he took the stairs two at a time to his bedroom.
He walked in and found the space lit only by the massive moon brightening the night sky. His gaze immediately focused on the bed, but it was empty. He scanned the room and found her sitting on the wide window ledge, the dark lake reflecting moonlight in the background. But the only beautiful sight Noah could
focus on was Julia, her hair down, wearing one of his red button-down shirts and spiked heels.
She slowly stood from the ledge and faced him, letting the unbuttoned shirt fall open just enough to show him she was naked beneath. And the icing on the cake: not one, but two thin, dark straps around her throat.
The choker, his open shirt, the spiked heels… It was almost too much, too sexy to appreciate.
He stopped just inside the doorway. Julia strolled to the end of his bed and curled her fingers around the footboard. His shirt pulled open, exposing the tight expanse of her belly and one full breast.
Noah licked his lips, not sure where to start. His years of casual sex had introduced him to a little ménage, a little bondage, and a lot of kink, but this…this was different.
“You, uh…carry collars with you everywhere you go?” he asked.
She smiled slowly and lifted a foot, turning it to one side, then the other. “I improvised.”
They were the shoes she’d worn to the Wings event, minus the ankle straps. Noah chuckled. “Aren’t you clever.”
“I try.” She sauntered toward him, stopping two inches away, her gaze bold on his. “Do you know what the collar is about?”
His gaze lowered to the rhinestone-encrusted leather straps around her slim throat. “I don’t know much about dominance or BDSM or whatever else is out there.” He lifted his gaze to hers with want making his cock pulse against his zipper, making his heart pound hard and fast, making his breathing shallow. “Is this…something you’re into?”
She laughed softly. “No.” She shook her hair back and ran her slim fingers over the leather straps. “But they are pretty. And the thought of giving you control for a change already has me wet.”
“Control for a change?” he asked.
“It’s been a long few weeks for you.” Her voice lowered with an edgy tone. “You’ve had me telling you what you’ll eat, when you’ll sleep, what pills you’ll take, how you’ll cook, how and when you’ll work out, what contact you will or won’t have with women.” She let her fingers slide down her throat, her chest, between her breasts. “I thought it would be a treat for you to take some control back. For you to tell me what to do for a change.” She tilted her head and her hair fell to the side. The moonlight sparkled off the rhinestones in the collar. “Would you like to take control tonight, Noah?”
A wild surge of fire flashed in his belly. Heat pooled in his groin. Split-second images of “controlling Julia” clicked in his head, no one remaining long enough to grasp on to, only ratcheting up the lust spiraling through his body.
“I like the sound of that, but I’m not sure what you’re asking. Not sure what you want.”
Julia’s fingertips slipped beneath the hem of his tee and slid across his belly at the waistband of his jeans. “That’s what’s so great about this. It’s not about what I want. It’s all about you. All about—only about—what you want. You say it; I do it.”
Every time she opened her mouth, the pressure in his cock amped. “Give me an example.”
Her nails grazed his skin, and gooseflesh rose beneath her fingers. Sensation drifted to his cock. “Julia, drop to your knees and suck me off,” she said, voice languid but deliberate. “Julia, get on all fours while I fuck you. Julia, scream my name. Julia, make me come.”
Noah’s cock must have been sucking up all his blood, because he was getting lightheaded. “My first order would be, Julia, put your hair up so I can really see that kick-ass collar around your throat, because it makes me hard.”
A slow smile lifted her mouth, and she turned, sauntering toward his bathroom. Noah’s mind spun with possible orders, still not clear how this game should be played. Julia reappeared with her hair piled on her head, her long neck exposed, those two straps close together and high on her throat. She stood in front of him, waiting, her expression expectant.
He gripped the footboard. “Lose the shirt.”
Her gaze sharpened. With slow, tantalizing movements, she eased the shirt open, let it slide off her shoulders, let it fall to the floor. Christ, she was perfect, sleek and toned, smooth and small.
“Make one, slow turn,” he ordered.
Julia obeyed, swaying her hips, moving slowly, letting him look his fill, and Christ, she was stunning. Simply, irresistibly stunning. And willing to do anything he ordered. This night would never be long enough.
When she faced him again, she clasped her hands and waited for his next order.
“On your knees in front of me.”
She dropped without touching him and lifted those big dark eyes obediently.
“Unbutton my pants,” he said.
Her tongue stroked her lips as her gaze lowered to his crotch, and Noah’s cock twitched in his jeans.
She carefully touched only his button and flipped it open, then waited.
“Unzip,” he said.
She obeyed, adding pressure to the slow slide of the zipper.
With her gaze on his crotch where his cock strained his boxers, he said nothing. Just let her wait.
“Go sit on the bed,” he finally said. “Back against the headboard.”
Instead of moving, she looked up at him. “Don’t you want me to—”
“Bed. Now.”
Her lips quivered into a small smile. “You sure catch on quick.”
“I’m good like that.”
She pushed to her feet and glanced over her shoulder on the way to the bed, adding extra sway to her walk. “You’re better than good.”
Julia climbed onto the bed, back against the headboard. She rested her hands in her lap, stretched out her legs, and crossed her ankles.
“Turn on the bedside lamp.” When she obeyed, a soft glow spread over the bed, highlighting her in a gentle spotlight.
“Bring your knees up.” When they were bent in front of her, he said, “Let them fall open. All the way open.”
Julia’s lips pressed together, her fingers curled into the comforter, and her gaze lowered. She started to draw her knees apart.
“Nope,” he said. “Keep your eyes on mine.” When she lifted her gaze, he added. “Always. Your eyes are always on mine. Now spread.”
She sipped a breath at the order, a little more crude than the others, but her knees slowly continued to fall open. Noah realized this was his opportunity to push her. Test her limits. See how much freedom they would have in the bedroom together—one of those things he’d never thought of before because he’d always been focused on one night.
When her knees splayed wide, hands knotted in the comforter at her hips, Noah dropped her gaze and let his rest on her sex. He moved around the foot of the bed and settled a hip near her feet, giving himself time to simply look at her. Her folds sweet and pink and ripe and wet. He studied the different shades of pink. The way her lips framed her entrance. The way she glistened. The way her neatly cropped patch of hair acted like a decoration to her most sensitive, delicate secret.
“Noah…”
Her shaky whisper halted the drift of his mind, and when he refocused, he saw a slight tremor through her body. Alarm burned across his ribs. He darted a look at her face, her expression similar to that tortured kind of pleasure.
“Isn’t there such a thing as a code word?” he asked. “Something we say when we want the game to end?”
“I…don’t want the game to end.”
So she was excited, not scared. Didn’t that just thrill the hell out of him? He had to dig his short nails into his palms to keep from touching her, from taking exactly what he wanted. “Let’s choose a word in case that changes.”
When she didn’t answer, he said, “What about…” He glanced around the room, searching for a word that wouldn’t be stupid enough to kill the erotic spell closing in but not ordinary enough to say by accident. His gaze fell on his shirt crumpled on the carpet. “Red?”
She gave one nod, and her eyes drifted to his mouth.
He reached out and lifted her chin. “Your eyes on mine. Look a
t me looking at you.”
She exhaled a shaky breath but kept her gaze on his. He let his eyes fall again, taking his sweet time to really soak in every detail of her body—the mounds of her breasts, the ridges in her abdomen, the curve of her waist and how it tapered into her hips. How her flat belly feathered into the small swell of her sex, and then his attention focused on her pussy again, on the moisture gathering there.
He wanted to touch her. To scoop her and pull her taste into his mouth. Instead, he heard himself say, “Touch yourself.”
One hand released the covers but didn’t move. “How?”
“Feel how wet you are. Move it around. Coat your clit with it.” As an afterthought, he said, “And watch yourself do it.”
She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, lowered her gaze between her legs, and moved her fingers over the shiny folds. Noah watched the wetness spread and her folds undulate beneath her touch. Enjoyed the quickening pace of her breath, the little catches of sound in her throat.
“Your clit, Julia.”
“I can’t. I’ll come.”
His smile was hot and truly wicked. “Perfect. Eyes on me while you finger yourself to orgasm.”
“Noah, I want—”
“Julia. Either do it or end the game.”
Her breath caught, and Noah prayed she didn’t end it this quick. He could do this all night, and damn well planned on dragging this little game of hers out as long as she allowed.
She licked her lips, exhaled heavily, and continued moving her fingers.
“Juice on your clit,” he ordered, scraping his own lip between his teeth when she uncovered the swollen bud. One he’d have between his lips and beneath his finger and against his cock before the night was over—at least if he had his way.
“God,” she whispered, her head dropping back as her fingers dipped into her pussy, then stroked across her clit.
Her eyes closed, brow creased in that pleasure-pain expression Noah had never fully appreciated until now, until he was watching it separate from the act. He’d always been too caught up in his own impending orgasm, in making sure he pleased the woman, to soak in the eroticism of simply watching.