Bind

by Sierra Cartwright

  “That said, I promise you I would be a patient Dom and honorable husband. I even know how to do laundry and load the dishwasher.”

  “All that?”

  “And I give excellent foot rubs.”

  A delicate flush stained her cheeks. That was another thing he hadn’t expected. The contradiction between sophistication and innocence ensnared him.

  For a moment, the tension eased.

  Then, as he waited, it grew again.

  “You were right when you said I had no idea what I was suggesting when I came to you with my proposal.”

  “It’s a lot to take in,” he agreed. “You’re free to leave and think about it. Or perhaps you’d like a taste of what you’d be in for as my wife, my sub?”

  “What are you suggesting?”

  “That you give me the chance to tantalize you. To see if it might be in your personality. After that, if you still want to pursue the possibility of getting married, we’ll set up another meeting outside of work, where we’ll have adequate time to talk about details and get more intimately acquainted.”

  She hesitated.

  He didn’t push. But damn, part of him hoped, really hoped she was interested enough to accept his challenge. And he admitted he wanted to touch her, make her respond to him.

  “I feel like I’ve entered a maze. This is a bit of a mind fuck.”

  He didn’t disagree with her statement.

  “What do you want me to do?”

  He pointed to a spot in front of the couch. “Go stand over there. Take off your suit jacket.”

  Eventually she stood.

  “Lock the door first.”

  She gave a small nod before pivoting and heading toward the door. As she walked, he stared.

  Her hips were rounded, and he noticed the way her buttocks were emphasized by the tight fit of her skirt. Connor considered that maybe his earlier thought had been wrong. Maybe she hadn’t chosen the red suit for power. Or Christ, maybe she had, her power over him. Those heels, those stockings… “Seams up the back?” Damn.

  “Problem?” She turned the big lock. The bolt made a purposeful sound as it slammed home. Then she faced him again, resting her shoulders against one of the floor-to-ceiling double doors. She brushed back her hair and boldly met his gaze.

  Any earlier doubt was erased. This woman had chosen her outfit intentionally. She’d known the effect that skirt would have on any male with a pulse. And hell, if he didn’t have one, it would restart it. “You’re lovely.” And smart. He made a mental note never to underestimate her as an adversary, as a lover.

  Without being asked a second time, she moved to the center of the room. The sight of her calves, accentuated by those heels, gave him palpitations.

  But it wasn’t just the heels. It was the entire package. She had flawless posture, and she walked with a little strut that spoke of confidence.

  Was there anything hotter?

  She stopped where he’d indicated then shrugged out of her suit coat. She took her time—her sweet, sweet time—draping the red material over the arm of the couch.

  Then she rolled back her shoulders, making her breasts thrust toward him a bit, causing the button across her chest to strain. God help him.

  Connor stood and walked toward her.

  As he drew closer, her scent slipped past his defenses. Pheromones, he reminded himself. They made rational people insane.

  He couldn’t take his gaze from her. Often, he preferred his submissives to look downward, but he loved seeing her eyes, all the emotions and reactions that she didn’t hide quickly enough. Uncertainty, sure. But mixed with a bit of curiosity. It created a heady elixir that he suddenly hungered for.

  Only a few inches from her, he stopped. “Put your hands behind you.”

  Nothing existed but the sound of her breathing and the heat of his sudden desire.

  She did as instructed.

  He placed his index finger on the hollow of her throat. Her lips parted slightly. “If you’re scared about anything, just say the word yellow.”

  She nodded.

  “As we get to know one another better, as you gain experience and build your trust, things that might have made you nervous will no longer bother you. Yellow will slow me down, give us chance to regroup, discuss. Tell me you understand.”

  “I understand.”

  “When we’re in a scene, in private, you’ll address me as Sir.”

  She gently pursed her lips but didn’t object. “I understand, Sir.”

  Over the years, at clubs, at parties, with subs he’d played with, he’d been called Sir. But the term hadn’t had any impact on him. It had held no power. Coming from her now, it was like a slam to the solar plexus. That she’d called no one else Sir did crazy things to his brain circuitry.

  He opened her top two buttons. Though he could see the flutter of her pulse in her throat, she said nothing.

  Then he parted the material.

  Her demi-bra lifted her breasts, leaving most of her flesh bare, but her nipples were hidden. She was lace, innocence, seduction. He knew this image of her would be seared into his mind.

  Unable to resist the temptation of the woman who might be his future bride, he brushed the pads of his thumbs across her honey-kissed skin.

  Her eyes drifted shut.

  Emboldened by her sensual reaction, he stroked inside her bra and gently rolled her nipples.

  She swayed toward him.

  “Lovely,” he said, exerting more pressure.

  “Yum,” she said.

  “Yum?” He wasn’t sure he’d ever had that reaction from a woman before. He liked it. “More?”

  “Maybe.” She opened her eyes and looked up at him. “I might be too chicken.”

  Looking at her to gauge her reactions, he squeezed her nipples a tiny bit harder. Before she could process what he’d done, he backed off.

  “That…”

  “You liked it?”

  “Yes.”

  He teased, waited.

  “Yes, Sir,” she amended.

  “Good girl.” He gave her what she’d asked for, this time holding on a little longer. “Too much?” he asked when he’d released her.

  “No,” she admitted. “Not at all.”

  She had at least a small taste for pain. Intoxicating.

  This time, he rolled her nipples, pinched them, pulled on them, drew her onto her toes. In reaction, she bent her knees. “Oh, yes,” he said. He pushed her bra down, out of the way, then bent to lave each nipple with his tongue, sucking on each tip to soothe it.

  She reached for him, hands on his shoulders. “Nice,” he told her. He waited until her breathing had steadied a bit before saying, “But I’d told you to keep your arms behind your back.”

  Her eyes widened but she didn’t immediately pull away.

  “You know what that means?”

  “No.” She drew a breath. “No, Sir. But I’m afraid I can guess.”

  “Yeah, you can. Tonight, if you dare, you can be punished for not following orders.”

  She scowled, tiny lines digging in between her eyebrows. “I don’t think I’d like that.”

  “You weren’t sure whether you wanted your nipples squeezed like that, either.”

  “True.” She slowly uncurled her hands from his shoulders.

  Part of him was tempted to tell her to leave them there.

  She put her arms behind her back again.

  “Very nice,” he said. “Now I’m going to kiss you.”

  “Am I supposed to just stand here?” she asked.

  “As opposed to…?”

  “Participating?”

  He lifted an eyebrow.

  “I liked having my hands on you,” she admitted. “And I’ve been wanting to mess up that very perfect hair of yours.”

  “You need to do a little reading up on submission.”

  “Oh?”

  “No talking without permission.”

  “I see.”

  He frowned
.

  She laughed, a genuine, seductive sound. “I told you I’m new. No experience. I’m bound to make mistakes, Sir.”

  Connor reminded himself he’d already learned not to underestimate her.

  “May I?” she asked. “Touch you?”

  As he leaned toward her, she lifted herself onto her toes and met him. “Wrap your arms around me, Lara.”

  She parted her lips in anticipation and he claimed them. The force of their kiss took him aback. He’d kissed dozens of women, but he’d never felt a searing connection.

  Lara wasn’t tentative. She met his tongue, tasting, testing as deeply as he was. It was as hungry as it was natural.

  When she laced her fingers behind his neck, he fisted a hand in her long hair and pulled her head back a little so he could deepen the kiss.

  She offered herself to him with no resistance, not struggling, but rather, inviting. He accepted, lowering one hand to her derrière and drawing her against him, softness to sinew.

  As she’d promised, she dug her hands into his hair, holding tight, the way he wanted her to. Having her there seemed right.

  Her body went slack, and he took advantage. Coffee tasted sweet in her mouth, but it was the headiness of her surrender he appreciated most.

  Suddenly he hoped she was brave enough to play with him later this evening.

  With more reluctance than he’d ever felt, he ended the kiss and helped her to stand.

  She blinked as she released his hair. After she was steady, she took a step back and smoothed her skirt, avoiding eye contact. Finally, she cleared her throat and looked up.

  “May I?” He moved toward her and reached inside her blouse.

  “Connor…”

  He smoothed a hand down her chest and straightened her bra. Her nipples were still hard, and because he knew himself well, he resisted the temptation to tease them one more time. Nothing about her, or this, was simple. He already desired her. If he continued, he’d want more, and he wouldn’t be satisfied until he touched every inch of her skin as he bared it. He’d want to lick her cunt from back to front to memorize her scent. And he’d want to mark her.

  Being a gentleman, he rebuttoned her blouse. Then, to distract himself, he said, “Give me your cell phone.”

  “Er, it’s in my purse.”

  He crossed the room, then picked up the clutch and placed it on his desk before unhooking the metal clasp. “May I?”

  “I have a feeling I won’t have many secrets from you.” She tucked her shirt tails into her waistband.

  “Not if I have my way.” He pulled out her phone.

  “Make a Z-shape across the keyboard to unlock it.”

  A few moments later, he had saved his cell phone and office numbers in her contacts list. For good measure, he added his personal email address. He was a bit disappointed she hadn’t done that herself yesterday, when he’d given her his business card. “No excuses not to call me.”

  “I figured that was what you were doing.”

  “You’ll also notice that I didn’t ask for your information.”

  “Is that supposed to make me feel better? I’ve no doubt you could have it in less than a minute if you wanted it. From Erin, if nothing else.”

  “I could,” he agreed. “But I won’t.” He propped a hip on the edge of the desk. She hadn’t moved from the center of the room, but her clothing and jewelry were once again in place, and she’d smoothed back her hair. Her shoulders, though, were curved slightly forward.

  The beautiful Lara Bertrand—who’d just had a sample of what he’d require from her submission—wasn’t quite as in control as she probably hoped to appear.

  “The point is, the next step is yours. You’ve had a tiny taste of what it would be like with me. A small amount of pain on your nipples. Hopefully a sensual, arousing pain?” If the way she’d responded to his kiss was any indication, it had been. “Text me, call me, shoot me an email if you want to explore more. Eight o’clock. What area of town do you live in?”

  “You move fast.”

  “We’ll go at your speed,” he assured her. “Tonight. Tomorrow. Next week. It’s your call. It was my understanding you were anxious to get to the marriage part. I’m willing to wait as long as it takes.”

  “The Heights,” she said after a long sigh.

  “If you’re agreeable, I’ll have my driver pick you up around seven-thirty.”

  “I always prefer to drive myself so that I’m free to come and go as I choose.”

  Her words were tacit agreement, but he was smart enough to realize he didn’t have her. Yet. “Of course. Keep in mind, April is at your disposal. Even if it’s late, you’d be safe. And if you’d like a glass of wine, you wouldn’t have to worry about driving. I’d be more comfortable.”

  “What if I wanted you to pick me up?”

  He recognized what she was doing. Showing her independence, an obligatory objection to ceding control to him. “As if it were a date, rather than an introduction to my form of seduction?”

  She caught her breath.

  “If that makes you happy, Lara, I’d be delighted to pick you up.”

  “I’ll let you know what I decide.” She reached for her jacket. “But I still may not come at all.”

  He didn’t argue. “Let me help with that. Please.” His words were light. His tone was commanding. His expectation allowed no argument.

  Responding as he’d hoped, she waited while he crossed the room, picked the jacket up and held it for her.

  “Are you always so mannerly?” she asked as she turned back to face him.

  “With my woman? Yes.”

  “Your woman? Your woman?” Her voice held a touch of indignation and outrage, but the question had emerged shaky.

  “That’s what you want to be,” he reminded her. “Isn’t it?” He smoothed her lapels.

  “No.” She shook her head.

  “My wife? What do you think it means?” For a few moments, he let her think about it. Now, he saw, with the way she was rubbing her upper arms, realization was settling in. When she’d walked into his office, she’d obviously had an abstract idea of what she was proposing. Business had been her focus, and apparently it hadn’t occurred to her that he’d expect something more.

  He walked back to his desk, and she followed. He picked up her phone then dropped it back in her bag. He re-clasped it before returning it to her.

  “Thank you. It’s been memorable.”

  “It has, indeed.” He went to the door and unlocked it. His hand on the knob, he paused. “And I won’t forget I owe you a punishment.”

  Her grip whitened on the bag.

  “I’ll be waiting to hear from you.” He opened the door and she walked past without another word.

  * * * *

  Lara kept her composure until he’d closed the door behind her.

  Then, realizing Thompson wasn’t in the room, she exhaled raggedly and sank into a chair.

  What the hell had she been thinking in coming here, proposing to Connor Donovan when she knew nothing, nothing about him?

  Even after he’d revealed that he was a Dominant, she’d stayed. Not only that, but she’d made things worse by following his soft-spoken commands. She’d all but invited his touch then she’d surrendered to his kiss.

  Worse, she’d done it willingly. And she wanted to do it again.

  If she were smarter, she’d get away and stay away.

  She drew a breath. Last night, as insomnia had stalked her, Erin’s words had seemed to play on an endless loop. Somewhere around midnight, Lara had started to consider the idea of marriage to Connor. For the next hour or two, she’d come up with a dozen reasons why that was a ridiculous idea, including her outrageous attraction to him. From the night she’d first met him, she’d recognized he was dangerous. Despite that, she’d been ensnared by his steely gray eyes.

  Eventually, she’d fallen into a restless sleep. After dawn had awakened and she’d guzzled half a pot of coffee, she’d hit the show
er. Thoughts of Connor hadn’t been far away.

  Then she’d received a copy of an email one of their attorneys had sent to her father. The woman had raised concerns regarding several clauses on a contract her father intended to sign. The news had startled Lara, though it shouldn’t have. It was simply another in a string of decisions she disagreed with.

  While she’d been dressing, she’d reached the inevitable conclusion. She did, indeed, need an ally on the board. A strong, powerful one. And Erin was right. Connor was brilliant. He had the financial resources and strategic thinking skills to help her out.

  But was marriage the logical solution?

  After breakfast, she’d pulled out a file containing BHI’s legal documents and realized there were only two ways to get him a seat on the board. One was through her father’s invitation. She didn’t see that happening. Family members, on the other hand, were automatically accorded a seat.

  She’d spent hours thinking it through and had decided that a marriage of convenience would be a wise move for both of them. For her, especially.

  There had been a definite spark between her and Connor the other night outside the elevator. She knew she hadn’t imagined it. So she’d decided to exploit it.

  Even though she hadn’t worn those heels or that suit in months, she’d selected both. The skirt was a bit too tight, and a look in the mirror had shown her that it flaunted her buttocks. Generally she didn’t wear the outfit because it was a bit risqué but, with Connor, that was exactly why she’d selected it.

  She just hadn’t expected his all-too-male reaction.

  For the second time, she wondered what the hell she’d gotten herself into.

  Lara exhaled.

  The outer door opened and Thompson entered the room. “Is everything okay, Ms. Bertrand?” A ferocious line was buried between his eyebrows, making him appear scary.

  She totally understood what Erin had been talking about. He was extremely large, and she had no problem imagining him in military garb. With his broad shoulders and jagged scar on his bald head, he looked to be equal measures protector and kick-ass intimidator. That he was so refined in his mannerisms made her feel somewhat discombobulated. “I’m fine. Thank you.” She stood, wondering if the man had any idea what his boss was into. Had he been shocked when she’d locked the door?