Not exactly sure what to say about that – not exactly sure whether he was telling her the truth – Stevie responded with unusual reserve, "Thank you." And then, her spirit kicked in. "Although there were a couple of instances when you could definitely have chosen to not hurt me..." she accused in a much more confrontational tone, although she still avoided his eyes.
He still held her chin, ordering softly, "Look at me."
She automatically wanted to look anywhere else, but had a feeling he would wait her out until they were both too old to remember what they were waiting for.
So she obeyed him, hoping against hope that she wasn't setting a dangerous precedent.
"You are referring to the two times I spanked you, and no, I couldn't have chosen not to. To have done so would have been doing a grave disservice to the both of us. To me, in allowing you to get away with speaking to me that way, and to you, in letting you think that everyone around you was going to let you get way with saying disrespectful things like that and sounding like some uncouth idiot, which I know you are not."
Her eyes slid from his as she heard the honesty ring true in his voice, and she began to blush at the memories that flitted through her mind about those two instances.
Trent took her hand in his. "I'm sorry if those times contributed to your feelings of animosity towards me, but I do not regret having disciplined you in either instance, nor will I apologize for having done so."
Stevie's entire body was throbbing, and she tried to lean away from him, but he held tight to her hand so she couldn't get very far. In fact, he used it to pull her back to him, and when she looked up at him, intent on letting him know just how exasperated she was with him, she instead found his lips sealed gently but firmly to hers.
And, to her intense mortification, she could no more have prevented the long, low moan that issued from deep within her than she could have stopped her next heartbeat.
Again, though, he didn't press his advantage. He didn't try to tip her over onto her back and lie atop her, he didn't even try to cop a feel. He simply kissed her, well and with a passion such as she'd never felt from any other man.
Where had that come from? she wondered.
He was so...well, dominant and Alpha, yet, he wore it in such a reserved, almost emotionless way.
But his tongue found hers, surprisingly bold and challenging, giving and taking, tasting, teasing, his teeth nibbling at it and her lips, coaxing her to come to him, to let go of the anger and resentment she clung to about him so stubbornly and return his kiss.
And in the end, towards the end, she did.
But even then, when she pulled away and was amazed that he allowed it, he didn't rush after her, didn't paw at her, but rather let her even move a bit away from him.
Stevie knew she should have been impressed at how civilized he was being, but she could barely tell which way was up after that kiss.
"May I have my drink, please?" she asked, holding her hand out in anticipation, needing that stiff fortification quite desperately.
"No, I think you've had enough for the evening. If I let you have any more, in the morning, you won't remember what's going to happen between us and all of my efforts will have been for naught."
Although it seemed as if there was a small smile playing about those full, sensuous lips, she couldn't quite tell whether or not he was joking, but she knew she wasn't going to see that drink any more than she had been going to see the one he'd vetoed mildly in the restaurant.
Although her body screamed, "Yes! Yes!" at what he was saying, her mind wasn't quite there yet. "You're presuming a lot on the basis of one kiss, Mr. Lazenby." She raised a haughty eyebrow at him.
Trent leaned all that long way down to nuzzle the tip of his nose to hers, the hand that was not holding hers coming up to bury his fingers in her long, loose hair, close to her scalp, contracting it slowly there. Which forced her to arch her neck to avoid having her hair pulled, until finally, she couldn't arch any further, and he kept squeezing just a bit beyond, not hurting her badly at all, just...letting her know that he could.
"And you, my dear Miss Coolidge, are assuming that that is the only time I've ever garnered any information about your...likes and dislikes. And that makes you very wrong, I'm afraid. Because the two times I had you over my lap, thrashing your bare bottom wasn't the only thing I was doing. I'm quite adept at multi-tasking, and I was watching you like a hawk." His lips found her ear. "I could smell your arousal both times, you know."
She gasped and would have jerked away, but she couldn't.
"Each time, when I allowed you to get up – after apologizing to me properly, of course –"
Stevie's teeth clenched at the thought of how he'd humiliated her then, while, at the same time, she continued to keep her thighs just as tightly clenched against the flood she knew was going to happen if she opened them.
"Even the second time, when I went harder on you than I had the first – I could see how dark your eyes had grown, could feel how your pulse was racing and the trembling of the arm I held when I assisted you in regaining your footing – that could hardly be attributed to a mere spanking." His tongue darted out and licked its way around the contours of her ear. "Unless it had turned you on."
"You bas –" She stiffened.
"I would reconsider using such a word if I were you, considering your proximity to my lap and the fact that I am fairly itching with the need to put you over it again," he interrupted, neatly shutting down her protest.
"But the most telling sign of what you were feeling, despite your understandably loud and hearty protests, and the fact that you went running to your father to tell on me like the child you were and sometimes still are, was the neat little wet spot right below where your pussy had lain against my pants." He pulled back a little and caught her eye. "Unless you have incontinence issues?"
Stevie glared at him, hissing without thinking first just what she was admitting to, "I do not have incontinence issues!"
His smile was all she needed to realize how neatly she'd been trapped. "I didn't think so," he agreed, his voice soft, regretful and triumphant at the same time.
The bastard.
"I would be willing to bet you that, if I reached between your legs right now, you'd be dripping wet, regardless of the fact that you're perpetually pissed at me. Tell me," he asked, tugging just a bit harder on her hair. "Am I right about that, Stevie?"
She tried to balk away from him, but even just that one arm was more than what he needed to keep her right where she was. So she closed her mouth and her eyes, horrified when several tears spilled down her cheeks. She hadn't even realized the tears had gathered.
If she'd known that was what it going to take to get him to let her go – to at least unravel his fingers from her hair – she would have begun blubbering much sooner. "Why do you feel the need to fight me like this, when you know that we'll take out the whole block when we come together?"
Her eyes flew open, finding his immediately.
He looked startled at the look of surprise on her face. "Did you think you were the only one, little girl? Did you think I was completely unaffected by the way you danced and writhed directly over my dick as I smacked that delicious little bottom of yours? I thought my cock was going to break in half. Even more so the second time, because I knew you liked it even though you didn't want to. That contrast is so hot I can barely stand to say the sentence. I ache like a schoolboy while I'm sitting here. I've been aching since before I ever even met you, since the moment I saw your picture on your father's desk, the one where you're running on the beach, so carefree, with all of those gorgeous curls flying out behind you like a banner..."
He shifted as she had been all evening, the plain evidence of his desire there for her to see, filling out the front of his impeccably tailored suit pants, the outline of his hardness impossible to miss beneath the expensive fabric.
Suddenly, though, he was no longer sitting languidly in front of her, but on his feet, tow
ering over her, that unmistakable bulge at just about her mouth level. And although she could see the smirk on his face that acknowledged that he'd just thought the same thing, he didn't press for that, either, as ninety-nine percent of men would have.
Instead, he leaned down and gathered her up in his arms, and suddenly she was again as tall as he was, but even more acutely aware of it, somehow, her arms having nowhere to go but around his neck.
"Give me tonight, Stevie. I promise you'll enjoy it."
She chuckled. "There's no ego in your family. You got it all."
He merely smiled, not bothering to correct her and reveal that he was the only member of his family. "I know what you want, and whether my instincts are wrong or right, I'll listen to what you do want. You won't regret it, either way."
Her body was winning. He was wearing her down, the asshole.
She opened her mouth, wanting to tell him to put her down this instant and stalk out of here, but at the same time, wanting to tell him to do exactly what he did do when she didn't tell him no – carry her to his room and make love to her until she forgot about everyone and everything but him.
Trent could barely believe that she was allowing him to do what he'd wanted to do for so long.
Part of him wanted to throw her down onto his big bed and ravish her, and he promised that part of him that would happen, eventually. Perhaps sooner rather than later, depending on how tonight went.
But instead, he managed to amaze her again, and after reaching down to strip the sheet and comforter completely off it, he put her down in the center of the mattress as if she was going to dissolve into a million pieces if he wasn't very careful of her.
She lay there, looking up at him, her legs moving restlessly in a manner that made him want to peel them apart and hold them open for him, but he restrained himself from doing that. There would be time for flash and bang – for insistence that would brook no coy demurring from her – later.
Right now, he intended to take his time with her.
He only hoped his body would cooperate and that he'd remain at least somewhat sane throughout, although the latter was quite doubtful, now that he had her where he'd wanted to get her for the past long, hellish decade and a half worth of self-denial.
Chapter 3
But looking down at her there, he knew it was going to be worthwhile, that his patience was going to pay off. She was losing the battle against her body, and he was firmly in that lovely, soft camp.
He slipped off his suit coat, letting it slump off the tips of his fingers and onto the floor without so much as a second thought, even though it cost more than a year's worth of rent on his first apartment. Clothes meant nothing to him, except as the necessary decoration – or rather camouflage – that they were. He needed to look a certain way to achieve what he wanted, so that was what he did.
He reached down and unbuckled his belt, the sound of it tinkling making her body clench to a full rictus of a stop. He frowned down at her for a second, realizing that she was holding her breath, and suddenly, he knew why, too.
"Relax," he chuckled softly. "You haven't earned a spanking...yet, anyway." She had, at one time, been on the receiving end of his belt for her blatant disrespect of him, and apparently, it had made quite an impression.
But that wasn't what he wanted her to think of right now in conjunction with him, although he did, very carefully, put the belt on the corner of the bed, within easy reach, and she watched him do it with big, wide eyes. He didn't intend to use it. But he felt it wouldn't be a bad thing for her to know it was there, not in the pile he was rapidly making of his clothes, but singled out for a special spot and a potentially special purpose, if she was to be naughty enough to warrant feeling the harsh sting of it against her tender flesh.
His tie was next, and once he slipped it from around his neck, he wrapped it around each fist for a moment, while staring down at her contemplatively, watching her bite her lip, seeing her breasts begin to rise and fall even faster.
But she didn't scramble away, didn't even beg him not to.
He liked that.
"Perhaps this will come in handy a bit later..." he teased, leaving it draped over the corner with his belt, and the full body shiver that ran through her was nearly enough to unman him completely, right then and there.
Through some sort of superhuman strength, he was able to remain in command of himself, barely. And, after staring her in the eyes as he deliberately rolled up the sleeves of his white shirt to expose his tanned, muscular forearms, he bent down to encircle a slim, delicate ankle with his fingers. Pulling her towards him, he watched eagerly as the short but floaty skirt of her dress rode up further and further, until it was nearly around her waist.
Stevie, in the meantime, spent the entire ride trying to prevent exactly that from happening, but there was nothing she could do about it. Why she felt so acutely modest in front of him, she'd never know. He'd seen her bare before, although not in this type of situation.
But she'd been at least as embarrassed then as she was now. It was him. He made her feel shy and nervous and as if all of this was very new to her. She felt everything more acutely when he was within a thousand mile radius of her, and up close and personal like this, it was almost more than she could bear.
"Dear God, you're wearing stockings? With a…" He literally gulped loudly enough that she could hear it. "Garter belt?" He said the last two words with such reverence as to be prayer-like.
She wasn't entirely sure what to say to that, although he certainly sounded and looked appreciative. The dress had a well-fitted, sweetheart-necklined solid navy blue top with a blue, green and white print skirt, and she'd worn her favorite navy blue thigh high stockings with it that, although they were attached to a garter belt, were also held at the top by lacy elastic that was decorated by a pretty bow.
"It's a damned good thing I didn't know you had those on or we would never have made it into the restaurant," Trent growled, liking the small, proud, feminine smile he received as a reward for his confession.
He brought each small, delicate foot to his chest and relieved her of her platform heels; she'd worn her tallest ones, knowing she'd need the boost – he was such a damned tree.
Then he'd sunk gracefully down onto his knees at the end of the bed, so tall and long-torsoed that he still had plenty of room to maneuver, dragging her – dragging the most vulnerable, sensitive parts of her – that much closer to him as he lazily thread her legs over his shoulders, watching her intently as he did so.
When he would have leaned forward to press his face against her lady bits with no preamble, she reached down to stop him, barely able to reach his shoulders with her fingertips.
"Trent!"
Dear God, was the first intimate thing he was going to do to her going to be his mouth on her clit? She didn't think she'd survive that! No foreplay at all? She was surprised – and a bit horrified – to realize just how turned on she was by the idea.
He looked completely unrepentant. "If you want to stop me, say the word 'red'. Nothing else will work, I'm afraid." Trent made to return to his delightful discoveries.
"Red." She didn't quite yell it, but it was close, propping herself up on her elbows for emphasis, and looking anxiously down at him.
He was as good as his word, halting immediately to gaze up at her. How could he possibly look so innocent, considering what he was about to do to her? Yet, somehow, he managed it. "Yes, baby?"
"You can't mean to…do that right off…first thing, can you?"
His first response to her wasn't really in any particular tone, but more of a rough rumble that went directly to her clit. "I want to taste you, Stevie. I have to taste you." As he leaned forward once more, he reached for her wrists, tugging firmly on them, until she had no choice but to lie back again.
Her panties actually tied at each hip, which he undid while keeping eye contact with her, then he reached up and folded her skirt just that much further up her tummy, revealing every i
nch of her secrets to his eager gaze.
"If I didn't think I'd have to kill the artist afterwards, I'd have you painted like this. You have the most beautiful quim I've ever seen."
She couldn't stop herself from murmuring, however breathlessly, "And you've seen your share of them."
He raised an eyebrow at her. "Yes, I have. You have to open a lot of oysters before you find a pearl."
And with that, he settled his mouth over hers, not bothering to hold her puffy folds apart, but finding his way with his tongue first, hearing her keening moan as he encountered exactly what he was seeking the first time, then zeroed in with pinpoint accuracy. Stevie felt herself being surrounded by him, both that very tender spot as well as the rest of her, and it somehow still managed to surprise – and alarm a little bit – her that he could do it so easily. His broad, thick shoulders pressed up against the backs of her thighs, those large arms bracketing her hips, hands reaching up to find hers, but with a sharply squealed "No," hers flew away at the fleeting thought that he might trap them.
He was relentless, though, lifting his head just enough to discern where her hands were and going after them while she grew even more distracted by his eager attentions.
When his fingers looped themselves around her arms, just above her elbows, using his grip to pull her even further into his mouth, she protested, weakly, "Trent! No!"
But, not hearing the word he'd told her to use to get him to stop, he ignored her protest, deducing correctly that she preferred to be overruled.
Once he had a good, tight hold on her, he allowed himself to wander a bit south of where he had landed originally, in order to confirm what he'd thought all along. And he couldn't have asked for any more evidence than he got as her silky juices practically ran down his chin and his throat as he lapped them up like they were ambrosia.
And to him, they were.
It was on the tip of his tongue to crow about what he'd discovered, but then he looked up at her. She was mostly relaxed, more so than she'd ever been around him before, he thought, her head rolling back and forth, eyes closed, breasts heaving with each labored breath that he – he – had caused. Why would he want to open his mouth and say something that was going to get her all defensive and uptight again?
Never Say Never Page 3