by Susan Arden
Inside his private domain, he wouldn’t deny himself savoring her beauty. “In here, I plan on enjoying being with you. I want you to be comfortable.” He untied the laces. “Unless you’d prefer the cloak on?”
“No. I don’t want to wrinkle it. I’d better take if off.”
He removed the long, draping material and had to remind himself not to stare. Her slinky dress clung to her curves. Not skintight, but accentuating inch after inch of her gorgeous body in just the right way to make any man sit up and take notice. “Thank God for me,” he muttered.
“What did you just say?”
“It was a good thing I had the sense to give you a cloak. You could easily have this club in an uproar.”
“I don’t follow.” She sat down, and crossed her legs, then reached up, and untied the mask. The hem of her dress hiked upward, displaying a nice stretch of calf and thigh.
Sweet heaven above. She was trying to break him.
Tonight her skin shone as though she’d rubbed gold dust on her legs. He considered instituting another rule requiring that she wear jeans. Or any type of clothing that would hide her mind-blowing legs. Christ, a pair of chaps came to mind, and a line of sweat broke out across his forehead with the vision of her in a pair and nothing else.
Seeing her dress tonight, he was tempted to forget his plan. This white dress didn’t scream Look at me! like the red leather number; it whispered seductively, and all the more loudly. Crept under a man’s skin until he couldn’t look away. Brandon stared unblinking at Mia dressed like some version of innocence he’d never known, with her seductive eyes and a mouth made for sin. She was his heaven and his hell, and so far he’d only kissed her. He reached for the larger of the gift boxes and handed it to her.
“I think this suits you more,” he growled, anxious to put his claim on her, even if it was only symbolically.
She smiled and tilted her head; her fingers lifted the lid, and she gasped. “This collar is beautiful. Brandon, I can’t accept this. It’s too expensive.” She stroked her finger around the collar and then looked up at him. “I already have the leather one.”
“Darlin’, it will give me more pleasure than you could imagine seeing my collar around your lovely neck, not some generic piece of leather. You already agreed. Are you abandoning your project…your plans?” He’d use whatever means necessary to get her to keep their bargain, including her desire to flee from Paris, if it meant she’d submit to him.
She bit her lip and he waited for her response. “You have excellent taste.”
“You’ll wear it. And not just here. This isn’t something you can put on and take off. Not if you want to understand what it means to be a sub.” Damn it! Did she truly understand what he was suggesting?
She held his gaze. “I have no intention of taking it off.”
“Let me collar you then.” He took the box from her fingers and came up behind her. “Lift your hair,” he said.
His fingers felt heavy on the buckle of the leather band. He carefully removed it from her neck, not at all pleased with the pink stripe that remained on her skin. He tossed the leather band on to the table, and turned his attention to the gift box. His muscles tightened and his heartbeat thudded as he lifted the platinum band and widened its mouth to fit around her neck. A small clasp at the end, where two twinkling rubies were located, swung down from her neck.
Mia released her hair when he let his hands drop to her shoulders, his thumbs caressing the juncture along her neck. “Thank you,” she whispered, tentatively touching his fingers.
He walked around and sat next to her on the sofa. “You can either let the chain hang or it can be secured. There’s an extension in the case. I’d like to see you in a dress that shows off your back. You’ll let me dress you, as well.”
“You enjoy doing all of this.” She searched his face.
“That’s part of being a Dom. But then you know that, having researched what a man in my position is capable of. Right?”
She bit her lip and nodded. Reaching up, she touched the collar. “In theory, I do.”
With his collar around Mia’s neck, he wasn’t about to let this moment go. “Kiss me.”
Same directions, and now she knew the rules. He wanted to see what she’d do. She pivoted on her hip and reached for him. Her hand curled around his bicep before gliding up to his shoulder. A current of electricity ran through him. She pulled herself close by hooking her hand around his neck, and he felt compelled to bring her closer. Fuck patience.
He pulled her onto his lap, his breath shallow, his pulse faster, and he waited, ready to burst apart. She pressed her mouth to his, her lips soft and parting. Her mouth tasted achingly sweet. He waited, yearning for her tongue, but she pulled back.
The only tongue he got was the image of her as she swiped her tongue over her own lips. She was slightly sucking on the bottom one before she let her hand drop from his neck, and then she laughed.
He reached up, running his fingers through her hair. “Sugar, you have got me going.”
She didn’t pull away, but gazed back at him, her lids heavy, and there was no need for words. He picked her up and laid her down on the sofa. One chance. That’s all he’d give her. “Safe word?” he asked. “I want you. Now. Say it or I’m going to fuck you.”
“I remember, and no, I don’t want to use it.”
“We won’t do anything you’re not comfortable with.” She bit her bottom lip and he groaned.
“You ever take that hat off?” she asked in a sensually husky voice.
“Sometimes,” he replied. “Depends what you’re offering.”
She opened her knees a bit. “You’re a Dom. You know exactly what I want.”
Chapter Eight
From the time she’d entered his club, she swore she could feel Brandon’s attention on her. As soft as a gentle touch at first, then, when their eyes met, from a faint smolder a fire ignited. Gazing across the room, she felt his power, his hunger, his heat.
If Mia thought for an instant that she wasn’t safe, she would have fled from the S & L and never returned. After talking with Brandon, they’d crossed a chasm today, and her intuition whispered that she could trust him. As a Dom, he was willing to train her, and she understood his motivation wasn’t tied to pain. Oh no. This man sought pleasure, his and strangely hers, seemed to be of equal importance. If she was unsafe, it was from herself in the depth of her desire. His firm touch reflected control and for all the sizzling right reasons. She didn’t think Texas was a big enough state to escape the way she burned for him or craved his touch.
Tonight when she’d entered and waited for him to cross the corridor, she’d lingered as prey before a predator who swore he’d have her. Not just have her…fuck her. And the way he’d said it, “fuck her,” hard and rough came to mind. One thought plagued her as though the devil’s advocate had taken up residence inside her head. How could she ever know what other women felt like with a dominating man if she gave up this one chance to find out?
All day before arriving at Brandon’s club she’d engaged in mental chess, presenting arguments, excuses, and threats as to why it was insane to consider Brandon’s promise; but it was her body who was running this show.
As if he’d known her darkest secrets, Brandon took hold of her first with his eyes, then with his hands. She’d ached while walking next to him, and the heat in his eyes when the bartender put down the drink from another member made her body throb greedily.
Now, reclining on the sofa with him staring down at her, she let her legs fall open, as she’d yearned to do since the moment they met. She pulled her dress slowly up her thighs. Cool air swirled over her skin, chill bumps spreading, but it was the roiling heat of his stare, a thunderclap to her senses, that had her truly shivering and her pulse racing.
Brandon placed his hands on her knees and opened her legs wider. “Baby, we’re about to break some rules in here tonight. You okay with that idea?”
She swallowed and no
dded. “Only some?” she asked.
His hands pressed down on her legs and he let out a mix between a groan and a growl. “Mia. You sorely tempt me.”
“Please, Sir.” She for one was down for breaking the rules. Every last one.
The apprehension she’d allowed to rule her throughout the day disappeared the moment she’d decided she could trust Brandon, or at least, his Dom level of expertise. She’d figure something out about what to do with her research project, but right now, she couldn’t fight this bone crushing yearning that ripped through her, shredding all thoughts, save one. She had to submit to him.
The urge had grown out of control, torturing her, until it was all she could think about. All she could taste. When she’d arrived tonight, whether or not she’d mentally articulated the thought, she’d already decided she had to go through this doorway he presented and promised if she was ever to find out who she was and why she had these mind-bending urges for hard sex and submission under the skilled hands of a Dom.
“Do you know what happens when you say your safe word?” he asked, his voice soft and deep.
“All bets are off,” she supplied.
Something in her stomach fluttered as his dark blue eyes searched her face for an answer. Perhaps a deeper one. Should she admit to him right now that the idea of walking away from him was ludicrous and her safe word was safely locked away?
“Not a term to toss about lightly. But, you have it if needed.” He traced one finger along her leg, spreading a quiver of heat over her skin. “If things get too wild. You can always tell me it’s going to yellow or red, like traffic lights. Then I’ll know just how far to take you. Your pleasure is mine. If you thwart any of my efforts to deliver your satisfaction, I won’t be pleased.”
“Thank you for explaining…Sir.” What was it about Brandon that made her desire to be possessed bubble, if not burst, into existence? She yearned to hear and feel him command her and already, without question, she trusted his ability to deliver what he’d promised.
“The way you say ‘Sir’ makes me hungry for you.”
“I like saying it. To you,” she whispered, her legs beginning to tremble. “Please, Sir.”
“Mia, you’re a walking fire starter where I’m concerned.” He lifted the hem of her dress, grazing his fingers up her legs, and let the material drop and bunch by her hips. “This would be one of those moments when a hat gets in the way, darlin’. I haven’t had my hands heated in months.” He tossed his Stetson onto the cocktail table.
Did he just say what she thought he meant? A ripple of pleasure channeled through her. He bent his head, causing some of his hair to drape over his forehead, and pressed strong yet velvety smooth lips at the inside of her knee. The touch of his mouth made her arch toward him. Damn, she had to learn better control and not be so unsophisticatedly transparent.
“Brandon, your hair is amazing.” It was true. Thick and dark—the type meant to be yanked. She wove her fingers through his hair, raking her nails over his scalp, while relishing his mouth on her legs.
“Let’s talk about you. Such beautiful skin. Feels like pure satin.”
“Mmm,” she moaned, bowing upward from the sofa. The pressure of his hands increased. He spread her legs wider and she opened to him, save a flimsy piece of material separating them. Heat flushed between her legs, going from simmering to crazy-hot. She was ready to combust as his gaze lingered between her legs, and he shifted on the sofa. He planted his palms firmly on her thighs, squeezing and massaging her muscles. Slowly and with the utmost skill, Brandon sunk down between her legs, setting her nerves on fire as he grazed her sex with his straining erection.
“Do you want me to fuck you? You’ll have to tell me, Mia. Or I’ll stop and walk you back to the bar.” He moved his hands away and she jerked her focus to him.
“Yes, Sir. I want to feel you inside me.” Pleasure coiled tighter and tighter inside her body, stretching taut her lust for him, and she tried to remember to breathe.
“Good.” He laughed low. “’Cause I need you wrapped around me soon.” His hands shifted down between her legs, stroking over the slip of material, and she quivered uncontrollably.
“Brandon,” she moaned as pulsing waves of pleasure erupted over her body, growing stronger with his caresses. Then he stopped. Her body shuddered uncontrollably in need.
“Just one thing,” he whispered wickedly. “I’ll need those wrists of yours. That is, if you want to know what it’s like to be a submissive. Do you?” He picked the handcuffs from the table and dangled them in front of her.
Jesus, did the oxygen suddenly leave this room? Just stop, she told herself. This was hardly the point to get spooked. He held cuffs, not a coral snake. “I can handle whatever you dish out,” she volleyed back.
“Never a doubt, darlin’” His smile deepened as he began rubbing his hands over the metal.
“What are you doing?” she asked, praying her voice didn’t crack.
“Warming the metal for you. Cuffs won’t hurt as long as you don’t pull. If you mar that beautiful skin of yours, I won’t be pleased. Now, hold out your wrists to me.”
She realized this was a way for him to gauge her need for control. She could have simply told him she relied on control, and her need was sky-high in her day-to-day existence. But cuffs during sex with him…this was also a quiz on whether or not she truly trusted him—the man behind the Dom. She’s believed she did. Holding out her wrists, she’d soon find out.
He took her wrist and gently locked one cuff, then the other. “You’ll follow my directions tonight. Won’t you?”
She pulled her wrists apart—or tried to. The bite of metal into her skin reminded her, these cuffs weren’t toys. “I don’t think I have a choice,” she muttered.
“Not true. Mia, you do have choices.” His expression drastically changed. He spread his hands on top of her shoulders, curling his fingers firmly over her flesh. “A Dom is not the only one who has power. Sure, I derive power through control, but in actuality you as my submissive possess an equal amount, if not more. Your safe word is unequivocal in power.”
Fully aroused by his forceful words, she nodded. “I understand.”
“Lie back and lift your hands over the armrest of the sofa. Raise your knees and open your legs for me.”
He helped her recline, but even so she jumped as his hands pushed her dress up her legs again. He caressed the insides of her thighs, dustings kisses against her knees, making it impossible to remain impassive when his warm lips and fingers were seductive to her senses. He commanded her with his possessive touch and the way his eyes undressed her.
“Brandon,” she moaned, straining to keep her hands in place over her head.
“Mia, focus on my hands, not yours.” His finger slid under her panties, the first touch so electric she cried out, rolling her hips toward his hand. He pressed his thumb against her clit and rubbed a slow, teasing circle over her sex.
“Sir.” She curled her fingers tightly over the armrest, stifling a loud groan.
He swept the pad of his thumb across her pussy and murmured, “So wet. So damn ready.”
“Please,” the word hissed sharply on her breath. He snapped his wrist, ripping off her panties and allowing cool air to tickle her damp folds. “Touch me,” she begged.
“You don’t command this show, baby. I do.” He stared into her eyes. Brandon’s pupils engulfed his sapphire irises and she was captivated by endless black, already aware of how easy it could be to get lost in them.
“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.
He smiled seductively then bit down on his lip with straight, white teeth that she hungered to feel nip her skin. Lucky lip, she mused.
“If you ever try to top me, I can easily remind you what part you play in our equation. Do you want a sample?” He chuckled as though the answer were obvious.
God, she did, but this was moving way too fast. “No, Sir. I’ll remember.”
“We’ll see,” he retorted
doubtfully. “You’re on edge. Bet I can help with that.” He stood and unbuckled his belt, then lowered his zipper and his pants. He kept his eyes on her face, but she couldn’t resist the temptation. She dropped her gaze to his hand and didn’t shift her focus for a couple of shaky breaths.
“Are you on the pill?” he asked, giving her something to concentrate on.
She glanced up to him. “Yes. I provided that in my forms with my membership application.”
“I only want to make sure you’re not going to get pregnant. The way I want to fuck you, I could easily rip a condom.” He pulled out his wallet and removed one.
No mystery that a man in his position would play it safe; then that thought dissolved when he took hold of his erection, his fingers gripping his cock.
“You’re huge,” she whispered, then tacked on, “You’ve probably heard that before.”
“Baby, there’s nothing to fear. I know what I’m doing.” He tossed his wallet onto the cocktail table before he rolled down the sheath of latex, and all she could think about was where that monster would possibly fit. “I should take this slow and give you a night to remember, but that’s not what you need.”
Brandon sank to his knees on the sofa, aligned their bodies, and pushed apart her legs. He swiped the head of his cock across her too-sensitive clit.
“Please,” she said, lifting her knees. “Sir!” A moan escaped her mouth and she was at his mercy—her desire for him overtaking her senses. A man like Brandon was a rarity. God, rarity didn’t even begin cover him or his skills.
“I’m going to fuck you. I mean, really fuck you properly. You need it hard. Rough. Don’t you, baby? My little researcher.”
She licked her lips and shivered. “By all means.”
He positioned his cock at her opening, flexed his hips, and grunted. “Damn, you are a little thing.”
“Does that mean you won’t?” She watched in shock as he backed away from her.
“Hardly. I’m going to have my velvet cake and eat it too.” He knelt beside the sofa, pulling her slightly sideways before he bent over her thighs. Watching him part her legs, she sharply inhaled and tensed her stomach muscles. Her exhalations came out in erratic puffs as he lower his shoulders between her thighs. “Open your legs wider for me, sugar.”