“Press play on my stereo. It should be set to Internet radio. Pick a channel—I’ve got a Switchblade one. And start to dance.”
Anya flicked through the songs. She had to admire his setup. Those speakers were top-of-the-line. She was stalling. When she peeked at Clint under her eyelashes, he was looking at her like she was an ice-cream cone on a hot day. She might not have felt ridiculous, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t nervous. She could pretend she was on the runway. Or that she was dancing by herself. But she didn’t want to waste a minute on this pretending. She wanted reality. And the reality was that they were alone in his bedroom. And hey, he was tied up. If worse came to worse, she could just run away. The thought made her snicker.
“Naked men don’t like to be laughed at,” he teased.
“I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at me. You’re making me do this and I can’t believe I’m considering it.”
“Am I pushing too hard?”
Anya shook her head. “No, but we never came up with a safe word.”
Clint grinned. “We’re not getting deep enough right now that you need one. ‘No’ is enough. So is ‘stop.’ And you’re stalling. What are you afraid of?”
She put on the music. Honesty was easier with her favorite song playing in the background. “I’m afraid you’re going to see that I’m fat. My clothes do a good deal of camouflaging the truth, but I jiggle in places I shouldn’t and I’m puffy in others. I’m afraid you’re going to stop looking at me like you want to devour me when you see me as I really am.”
Clint swallowed. “Start dancing and I’ll tell you what I see. Move your hips to the bass line.”
Anya found it easier to look him dead in the eye, because he was so damn perfect. Shaking with nerves, desire, and a little bit of fear, she let the music guide her hips. She lifted her thick hair up off her neck and let it slowly drop between her fingers.
“I see your eyes, so dark and deep. I see your hair splayed out like that and it makes me think what it’s going to look like on my pillow. I notice your lips, so red and full. I want to taste them again.” Clint moved and the handcuffs rattled.
Unbuttoning her shirt, one slow button at a time, Anya walked closer to him. Swaying her hips, she shrugged a shoulder out of the blouse.
“I see your shoulder and I want to bite it.”
She laughed.
“That’s it, move those hips. I’m admiring your boots. I want them wrapped around my waist.”
Anya danced a bit, losing her self-consciousness in the beat of one of her favorite songs.
“Shake that ass,” Clint said. “I’m remembering you’re not wearing panties under that tight skirt and I want you to sit on my cock and shake like that.”
Anya swallowed and looked at his member, thick and large. She wanted it too. Taking the end of the tank top in her hands, she tore it up and over her head.
“Yes,” Clint hissed. “I’ve been waiting to enjoy those all night. Dance, baby, let me see how they move.”
Anya danced closer until her boots brushed his shins.
His eyes half closed. “When you’re on my cock,” he said, “I’m going to take off the clamps and suck on your nipples.”
The desire that had been threading through her since the song began spiked into a need. Unzipping her skirt, she let it fall and kicked it away.
Clint groaned. “Come here,” he begged.
She straddled his knees and swayed close so her breasts brushed his face. He kissed them softly. Tingles swirled through her. Rational thought was fleeing beneath the sensual haze.
“Uncuff me,” he growled.
Anya shook her head. She sat on his lap, his cock between their naked flesh. Placing her hands on his shoulders, she rubbed her chest up his.
“Put me inside you then,” he said, trapping her mouth with his.
As soon as his lips touched her, she lost control. It was too much. She needed him. Needed the hard drive of his body. Fumbling, she tried to get the right angle.
Tearing her lips away, she cried out. All she was managing to do was rub the tip of him against her wetness. He’d thrust and throw off her aim. Stumbling back, she said, “I’ll get the key.”
Clint stood up, his hands still cuffed behind him. “I got this. Come here.”
He lay back on the bed and with impressive flexibility moved his cuffed hands under his ass. Tucking his knees up, he slid his cuffed hands down his legs. Now his hands were cuffed in front of him. Anya had made it to the bed, crawling toward him.
“Get on me,” he ordered, lying flat on his back.
Anya didn’t have to be told twice. She sheathed him on the first try and sank down to get him as deep as she could get. She didn’t care about her weight or that she might be crushing him. Just the final press of his cock in her had the orgasm cresting around her.
He tugged off the clamps and she cried out. His hands were rough on her breasts. She was sensitive, but it felt so good. Bouncing on him made them shake harder. He filled her, stretched her until her breath escaped on a sob.
“Give it to me,” Clint ordered. “Come on my cock. Use it to get off.”
“I did,” she panted.
“Do it again,” he demanded, raising his hips to hers.
“Oh.” She sighed and held on to his shoulders. She guided herself up and down, so he hit all the right spots on her.
“You are so beautiful,” he said, putting his cuffed hands over her head and sliding them down her back. Leaning up, he took her nipple in his mouth and swirled his tongue over it.
“Yes,” she gritted out, squeezing him. “Just like that.”
He went to the other breast, grazing his teeth and sucking hard.
Anya’s body was quaking. She was moaning his name over and over again. The intense rush of pleasure nearly drowned her as she gave him what he wanted and drenched him as she came a second time.
Kissing up her chest, Clint moved his cuffed wrists up and rolled, and she was on her back. Still inside her, he lifted her legs so her boots rested on his chest. Then he leaned in, bending her, so his cuffed hands were at the top of her head.
Still recovering, Anya quivered as he plunged deeper. “This is what I wanted since I first saw you,” he grunted out. “Dazed from coming on my cock. Me fucking you until I come, looking into your beautiful eyes. Anya,” he cried out as his thrusts grew more and more frantic.
Anya was moaning with him. The slap of his body against hers, his thickness stretching her, tapping all the right places. They rocked toward oblivion and Anya reached the pinnacle for the third time and screamed in shock, pleasure, and need. He filled her and roared her name as his climax drove into her.
They lay panting against each other. Clint’s weight pinned her to the bed, but she didn’t think she could move a muscle. He kissed her slowly, his cock still inside her. Anya’s hands kneaded his backside. She would never get enough of him, of this.
“Hey,” she whispered when his lips left hers to plunder her throat. “Truth or dare?”
“Truth,” he muttered against her neck, his beard and teeth sending shock waves of pleasure through her.
“Truth?” She laughed. “I would have pegged you for a dare.”
He leaned up on his elbows. “I told you. Truth is more dangerous than a dare.”
“Where do you see yourself in five years?” she asked. She wondered if they had a future together, wondered if she would be a part of his.
“Are you interviewing me for a job?” he countered. Distracted for a moment by her breasts, he nuzzled them while she played with his hair. “I’m going to own my own bar. I’m not going to strip anymore. I’ll still work at Club Inferno for fun, and…” He picked his head up and stared at her dead in the eyes. “I’ll be married to you.”
Anya’s body froze. Her eyes went wide. Her breath left her in a whoosh. What happens when a wish comes true? Do you believe in it? “Clint, I don’t even know where I’m going to be in five years.”
He shrugged. “That’s okay.”
She had been expecting him to say he’d own the bar. She had hoped he’d say that they would still be in each other’s lives. But married? Anya needed a minute. He hadn’t even said he loved her. Did that mean he loved her? Did she love him? Was this another dungeon game? If she called him a liar, would he laugh and then she’d get to have him perform a sex act on her? It shouldn’t have been this complicated. A panic attack was starting low in her gut.
“Truth or dare?” Clint said, oblivious to her inner turmoil.
“Dare,” she practically screeched out.
He gave an evil laugh that made her squint down at him.
“Tomorrow, you’re going to wear another surprise of mine.”
“What is it?” she asked.
Clint just pulled the covers around them both and snuggled her close.
“Clint?”
Would it kill him to say “I love you”?
“What kind of surprise?”
But his breathing had deepened and she didn’t want to disturb him. Soon, he was snoring lightly into her shoulder. There were worse ways to spend the night. But she couldn’t sleep. She cuddled against him and enjoyed his warmth, but her mind was going too fast.
Creeping into his bathroom, she looked around but he didn’t have a scale. She padded over to where she’d tossed her purse and retrieved her phone. Turning it on, she winced at all the missed messages and texts. She smiled at Clint’s but then frowned at the other messages.
Call me.
It is imperative that I speak to you.
Please call me, cara mia, it’s important.
Three texts from Cesare. It was almost four o’clock in the morning. She didn’t dare call him now. Would his wife answer? She unzipped her boots and massaged her feet. Would Rita? Rolling her ankles, Anya thought about what he could possibly want.
Fuck it.
She dialed the phone. It went to voice mail. She hung up. Then she texted Trey: Lost another five lbs!
A text message came through almost immediately afterward. Expecting Trey, she almost dropped the phone when she saw it was Cesare.
My mother is very sick. I’m leaving my wife. I want you back.
Anya stared at the words. She had wanted to hear them for so long. At one low point in her life, she had even considered being his mistress. There were so many responses she could make. The quickest one was probably the best.
No.
Then she went back to bed with her handsome lover and fell asleep in his arms.
Chapter Fifteen
“Anya?”
“What?” she screeched, turning red as a beet. Shifting—which didn’t help the distracting buzzing between her legs—she faced Colleen.
“Are you feeling all right?”
Tamping down a hysterical giggle, Anya nodded and plastered on a happy smile. “I’m just great. Why do you ask?”
“Because you stuttered all through your accessories class and now you’re looking like you’re about to jump out of your skin.”
“Oh well,” Anya said, “I’m a little nervous about the part. Trey said a decision is going to be made any time now, and they haven’t even called me up to audition.”
“Are you sure that’s it?” Colleen narrowed her eyes and leaned in to her.
“Yup.” Anya fled back a few steps. The buzzing was barely audible, but the last thing she wanted was for Colleen to know she was wearing a vibrator between her legs that Clint was controlling remotely.
“All right.” Colleen gave her a searching look. “I’ll see you later.”
Anya watched her go and then let herself into the lending closet, where she let out a huge breath. Placing her hands on the desk, she rode out the buzz until she came. Then she took out her phone and texted:
Four.
Immediately, the buzzing between her legs subsided. Staggering over to the couch in the back by the dressing room, Anya sprawled out. He was going to kill her if this kept up. The next time, she was going to pick truth.
“Truth is more dangerous, my ass,” she said.
That morning, Clint had gotten up to go swimming—after four hours of sleep. The man was a machine. He woke her up by sliding a loop over each of her legs. In the middle of the loops was a soft pad.
“Um, what are you doing?” she croaked, still groggy from sleep.
“This is your dare, lover. You’re wearing a vibrator between your legs for the rest of the day.”
“Wha—?” Her fingers clutched the sheets as he turned it on. The soft buzz went up and down in intensity. “Oh,” she whispered.
Buckling it across her waist, Clint secured it. “It’s wireless. I’ve got the controls. It will work everywhere in Couture. I’m going to control your orgasms today.”
“Clint, I’ve got to do my classes this afternoon.”
“I know,” he said, and leaned over to lavish sucking kisses on her breasts.
Anya’s eyes rolled back in her head from the pleasure. Her fingers tangled in his hair. She came off the bed moaning when he upped the intensity.
“Clint,” she cried, feeling the buzz wash over and over her sensitive clit. Lying back on the bed, she sighed in pleasure.
Lifting his head from her breasts, he placed the nipple clamps on her again.
“Oh,” Anya said, tensing as the orgasm came unexpectedly and shuddered through her.
“One,” he said, kissing her lips. “You text me every time you come today. And if you need me to turn it off. Don’t abuse it, though, or I’ll come and investigate.”
Anya sat up. “And then what happens?”
“You’ll find out. You seem to like my surprises.” He threaded his fingers through her hair and kissed her again. “Meet me in the studio around seven. You’re going to watch me shoot Dina’s scene. She’s very excited you’re going to be there.”
“What do I have to do?” Anya said.
“Just watch. I’ll do the rest.”
He thumbed a remote control and a low vibration rippled between her legs. It was nearly silent, thank goodness.
Anya stared up at the lending closet’s ceiling. They should paint it with a starry sky or something. She took out her phone and texted Clint.
What’s the record for the most orgasms?
83
In one day?!?
Kinsey found a woman who did 20 in 20 minutes
Anya put her phone away.
The door to the lending closet opened.
Oh, not again, Anya thought. Nefertiti better wear that damn key around her neck from now on.
Luckily, she recognized the voices. One was Marta, a fashion model, and the other was Fiona, a designer. Fiona kept her prototypes in here. They were probably doing a fitting. Anya knew she should get up and go find Colleen to work on their line, but she was just so damned comfortable. It was peaceful. She might have even dozed off to the drone of the familiar back-and-forth of the model and designer. But she heard them talking about Clint and her ears pricked up.
“That bartender at Ceili’s is damned fine,” Marta said. “I heard he’s a stripper.”
“Clint? Yeah, he’s sexy and he knows it. Turn around. I don’t like how the hem is falling.”
Anya heard rustling.
“I heard he’s a real jerk, though,” Marta said.
“How so?”
“This chick, Rita, who did a Vogue shoot with me said he’s dating the fat accessories instructor on a bet.”
Anya let the tears leak out of her eyes. Her heart knew it wasn’t true. She was actually more upset that Rita was modeling for Vogue. Still, it brought back the insecurities. Anyone who looked at Clint and her as a couple would always wonder why he was with her.
The humming started between her legs again.
Stop, she texted. It immediately shut off.
There was no way she was going to be able to call in Istvahn to break this up. As much as she’d like to. She had two choices. She could walk out of here, fac
ing them down and shaming them for talking about her, or she could stay here until they left.
“That doesn’t sound like Clint,” Fiona said.
Anya had to agree.
“He only dates models,” she continued.
I am a model, you bitch. I may not have been in Vogue, but I’m well respected.
“Maybe he was just throwing her a pity fuck,” Marta said.
Anya sat up. She couldn’t call Istvahn. But that didn’t mean she couldn’t call in the cavalry.
Come to the lending closet. I need you inside me.
—
“I did not fuck him in the lending closet,” Anya said. She’d blown him. Big difference.
“That’s not what Fiona said. She was very put out. She’s got a show here tomorrow and she needs to prepare. She said Clint barged in and told them to take a hike. Then she said you called out from the back that it was okay, they could stay. And then she said there were sex noises coming from the back.”
“Did she describe the sex noises?”
Clint had been surprised but enthusiastic when she dropped to her knees and almost ripped his pants off. He controlled the buzzer between her legs, so she was able to text him five and six when they were done.
“I think they were put out by the moaning.”
“I didn’t moan.” Anya thought back. Did she? Clint might have been a little loud. What could she say? She had mad skills. Looking at her fingernails, she smiled.
“I should remind you,” Colleen said, breaking into her thoughts, “that Fiona and Marta are not aware of Club Inferno. So I’m officially writing you and Clint up or giving you a verbal warning or some shit like that. Go fool around in the appropriate areas. We have enough of them, for pity’s sake. Or your own rooms. What are you, teenagers?”
“It served them right. They were being bitches.”
“They were very offended. Fiona’s an introvert.”
“Then she should have kept her mouth shut instead of spreading nasty gossip.”
Colleen took a swig of her soda and flipped a couple of sketches over to her. “I’m having Marisol start stitching these up. We’re going to launch next month unless something big stops us. What gossip?”
“Where’s the denim dress?” Anya asked.
Longing: Club Inferno Page 15