That you care for me. “You are a complex man. A rich array of traits that you show to only a few others.”
“Without sight, you can see more,” he praised her.
Her lips curved at his words. She had to maintain her integrity, didn’t she? At least until she was in a bed with him. And totally under his control. Humor struck her as the way to deal with him. “So shall I blindfold you?”
“Another time, darlin’.” One of his fingertips traced the outline of her mouth. “I’m not done having you discover me just yet.”
“Oh goody.” Relief blended with temptation, a heady brew. “Can I strike out on my own or do I have to ask permission?”
He gave a low moan in response. “No asking necessary.”
She flowed toward him, her mouth finding the curve of his cheekbone, the smooth warmth of his flesh, freshly shaven of the prickly afternoon shadow she’d seen him sport earlier. She skimmed her lips down to his firm, square jaw. Trailing upward to his earlobe, she took the tip between her teeth and nipped him.
He yanked away, laughing. “Marking me?”
“Yes,” she purred. Wish I had the courage, the right to do more. She licked the place where she’d bit him with the tip of her tongue, then nuzzled her way down the rigid column of his throat. His deep masculine musk filled her nostrils. Beneath the mask, her eyes were closed but she saw bright, blinding bliss. She put her lips to the hollow of his throat and told him in dark, desperate words how she savored the feel of him beneath her skin. “God, I could crawl inside you. I’ve never known anyone like you. A man who seems to be one thing and yet, for me, seems to be another.”
As if she’d shocked him, he yanked backward, captured her by the upper arms and peeled her away from him. Anchoring his fingers in her hair, he seized her mouth with his and pressed her down. While he held her with one hand, he slid one open palm down over her breast. With a thumb, he stroked her nipple. Her breasts were already hard, her areola pointed, throbbing.
His anger or frustration or whatever it was made her break away from him. “You’ve never had a woman want to caress you?”
The question drained him of tension. Gently he toyed with one of her curls and brushed it over her cheek. “I have. I thought the idea was ordinary.”
“Maybe you didn’t have the right woman.” Oh that was pretty bold to say.
“I always put it down to a lack of passion for sex without ropes.”
“And now?”
“Isn’t that what you and I are discovering? If I’m changing. If you are.”
“I hope so.”
“Just because I like to play with ropes doesn’t make me…uncooperative.”
She sank against him, her mouth against his cheek. “Good.”
He sighed, stroking her side. “So is that all you want from me? Kisses and the right to caress me?”
“No.” She’d be bold as she dared. After all, he had asked. “I want you to make love to me. I want your tenderness and your care and…and whatever else you might feel for me.”
“My past is not simple. The need for ropes, the need to see you under me, obeying me, that’s strong as hell, Sam.”
“That’s just what I want myself.”
“You’re sure?”
She knew it was better to learn now whether he was incapable of anything beyond the bondage. Over the past few months, she had struggled with the submissive aspect of her character. She had come to the conclusion, as recently as Wednesday night and Friday night, she didn’t want her sexual life to center on that. Not entirely. She wanted more than that. Plain vanilla with the occasional spice of red hot chili peppers sounded like a strong combo.
His big, warm hand slid up to cover her breast and she arched into him with a sigh. His thumb brushed her nipple and it peaked, hard as a diamond into his touch. “Sam, you feel wonderful.”
Her pussy flooded with cream and pulsed wildly.
He turned away, fiddling with something.
In the next second, he coiled rope around her wrists and yanked them together.
“Case!”
His warm hands were on her upper arms now, his fingertips digging in to her skin. “I won’t ever hurt you. Believe me?”
“You’re asking me to—”
“Act on instinct. What does yours say about me?”
Her lips quivered. Her breath came in wild spurts. “That you care about me.”
“How?”
“Enough to…do this.”
“Yes. You do trust me some. I want more, Sam.” He tipped up her chin and kissed her with savage possession. “I want all you have to give. Tell me what you want.”
“I want you to make love to me.”
“How?” She heard the triumph in his question.
“All night long.”
He barked in laughter. “Anything else?”
“I want to make love to you too.”
“How?” His voice was low, feral, needy. Not the dominant man she had first met.
“Any way I can think of.”
“Well, darlin’,” he said with humor as he buckled her seatbelt, “you just sit there and look pretty so I can enjoy looking at you. Then you are in for one long night.”
“Sleepless in Texas.” She nodded toward the road. “For goodness’ sakes, drive on!”
Chapter Seven
Case turned into the long, secluded driveway to his cabin with the biggest hard-on he’d ever had in his life. He grit his teeth, swearing to himself he could cut logs with his erection.
Glancing over at Sam only added to his problem. Like a good little sub, she had sat perfectly quiet, perfectly calm, her voluptuous body in the black slinky dress and shoes relaxed. But she was awake and aware, smiling to herself as she had been for the two-hour drive.
He took her hands now, as he had occasionally throughout the trip, and brought them to his mouth. Scraping his teeth over the fleshy pad at the base of her thumb, he pushed her fingers open and planted slow kisses in the center of her palms. She tasted so damn sweet. Smelled so good. Christ, he was going to make this good for her.
And if Joel is here?
Please don’t be here.
Don’t.
Joel had called him this afternoon around five. “I’ve got to deal with these illegals squatting on my land, Case. I know this coyote who led them here. I saw him at the gas station yesterday. He runs underage girls for the R 19 gang and he drains my creek beds. Wade and his posse are helping me. But you know how it is. Only I know what acreage they’re really taking over. I have to find them so Wade can capture them and deport them.”
“I hear you, Joel. Sorry about this.”
“Not as much as me, Case. I like Sam. A lot. And I hate that you get to have her without me.”
It’s not as if she consented. Or that she even knows how we share women. “With Sam, I’m going to make my own exception. If she wants me, I won’t turn her off. Or wait. You’ve had women first before. Don’t deny it.” He hated to play that card but it was the truth.
Besides, what would Sam think if he sprang a ménage on her?
He winced. From what she’d shared with him in front of her B&B tonight, he doubted she wanted Joel at all or even as much as she wanted Case.
“What do you want me to do?” Case had blurted at him. “Wait until you can get free?”
“That would be the friendly thing.”
“Friendly?” Joel could occasionally be an ass. His two tours of duty in Iraq had messed with his brain, and many times when he drank too much or got erratic, Case thought he might have a case of PTSD. But try telling Joel he might need time with a shrink and he flew into a rage. More than one person in town had noted it and avoided confronting him. But Case decided then and there he was not going to be one of them.
“Well, I won’t wait. Sorry, buddy. You and I can argue this for a month of Sundays.”
“I saw her first!”
“You waited too long. End of story.” Case had hung up on Joel.<
br />
Rounding the bend in the road, Case gave an audible sigh of relief when he saw no other truck in front of the tiny house. He’d left the two porch lights on this afternoon when he prepared the cabin for Sam’s birthday party. The rustic log cabin’s exterior belied the modern features on the inside.
Case was proud of his handiwork, the new kitchen and baths. The big brown leather sofas and the Mexican wool rugs on the dark-stained wood floors all made the place look like a Texas man’s hideaway. Which is what it was. And never more so than tonight when he wanted to hide away with this gorgeous woman and not leave until he had discovered every scrumptious inch of her.
When he stopped the truck and turned off the ignition, she faced him. Her full lips parted, and though her eyes were covered, her expression wasn’t. She sat straighter, taller, her full breasts pushing out the soft jersey of her dress in a curve that made his mouth water. He wanted to touch all those rises and valleys, lick them, savor them. And from the way she gave a sexy little shiver, she wanted the same from him.
He gave her hand one big squeeze, then reached in back for a blanket to wrap around her shoulders. Out here on the plains, the temperature dropped twenty degrees or more at night and he wouldn’t have her catch cold. He tucked it up around her throat, then climbed down from his seat onto the gravel. In a second, he was around the other side, opening her door. He lifted her bound hands to loop around his shoulders, filling his arms with all her beauty and frothing at the mouth as if she were some whitetail buck in heat.
He closed the door with a push of his ass and strode up the drive to the steps and the front door. With a flick of his wrist, he turned the knob and stepped right in. This afternoon, he had left on the dimmer in his back bedroom. The light shone through enough so that he could see her in fine detail. He had pulled the drapes shut, except for the kitchen window where the moon dappled the room with moon glow.
Sam’s arms were tightly wrapped around his throat, but the instant she was inside and the door slammed shut, she put her straight nose in the air, inhaling the aromas, learning where she was. Tonight, she would learn what she was too.
Mine.
The idea stunned him. Had his cock straining at the buttons of his fly. Hell, yeah. He wanted every bit she had to give him and some she didn’t know she had.
“Oranges and cinnamon in a hot grog,” he murmured as she inhaled the aromas of the brew he had cooked this afternoon. She smiled up at him. “Made it this afternoon for you ’cause I knew it would be chilly tonight.”
She gave him a little hug and nuzzled him in the crook of his neck.
He snorted a little. “You tickle.”
She made a wordless sound of pleasure, like a cat purring. She turned his face to her and brushed her lips over his.
God, she was killing him softly.
He had promised himself this afternoon to go slowly with her here. He had all night. Hours and hours with her to do everything he had imagined. To seduce her with all the deliberate care he used on his exhibitions. To pour into her all the discipline and devotion he wanted her to see was in his nature.
He walked to the kitchen island and set her down on the granite countertop. Smoothing her hair, brushing her cheeks and jaw, he wound the corners of the blanket around his wrists and hauled her against him. He’d hungered for her in the truck and now that she was facing him and he could take all of her, his control slipped by agonizing inches.
Too long he had waited to have her. Since the first time he’d met her weeks ago. Since Wednesday. Since Friday. Since this afternoon. She drew him like an irresistible force, and he had to stop. Just stop a minute and collect his energy. Focus on her pleasure and not his own need to possess her.
He was trembling. His hands clenched in the blanket.
She made another of her feline moans of desire and admiration and then rubbed her cheek against his.
He pulled the blanket down.
Do not strip her.
Do not touch her.
He took a deliberate step backward.
As if he’d tossed cold water on her, she caught her breath. Her expression lost that enchanted look, draining to something in the moonlight that looked like alarm.
“Sweetheart,” he called her and knew this was the first time he had ever used the term for any woman. “Stand up.”
He took her bound hands and helped her slide down to stand against the island. In deft moves, he worked at her ropes, the knots simple, never meant to bind or hurt her, only meant to give her the knowledge that she belonged to him. For tonight.
And if I do this right, for longer. Much longer.
That made him scowl. What was going on with him? Could he care that much and he hadn’t even made love to her once?
The very thought was so unique, it was absurd.
But he dropped the rope to the floor, let it fall with a splat, and drove one hand up into her silken curls to kiss her as sweetly as if he were some half-smitten dandy.
Then he stepped back.
The question of what he wanted from her formed on her lovely face.
“Undress.”
She tipped her head as if she hadn’t quite heard him, but a second later, lifted her hands. They shook as she crossed her arms and in one sweep took the black jersey up over her body and her head. With the elegant fingers of a ballerina and her arm outstretched, she paused. Facing him, she waited a small moment and then let the dress slip from her fingers to the wooden floor. In the dappled moonlight, she was a vision in strappy high heels and transparent midnight-black bra and panties.
He swayed, nearly going to his knees right then and there.
She bit her lower lip, wondering, waiting to hear if he liked what he saw.
Christ. He swore beneath his breath. She was incomparable.
She quickened, understanding he approved, and then quickly unhooking the front clasp her bra.
For a second, he had to close his eyes. The fire to take her rushed over him like an inferno. Her breasts. Oh god. Her breasts were glorious. Heavy, upturned beauties with large nipples and pebbled at the very tips so sweetly. He would lick them and mold them, bite them and suck them until she cried out for more of him. Everywhere.
“Samantha,” he said, startled that the strangled sound came from his own throat.
Her lips spread in the most indecent smile as she shook her hair back over her shoulders. Her hands slid over the tops of her breasts, her fingers stopping to tease and pluck her nipples, then traveling down over her ribs as she undulated like an exotic dancer. She slid her fingertips beneath the tissue-thin fabric of her black panties, coaxing them down her shapely legs until they pooled around her bare feet. But her hands traveled south and came to rest on either side of a dark circle of pubic hair.
She had waxed her pussy, leaving only a tiny crown of hair above her cleft. He choked. Her hair looked like a powder puff. Fluffy and dark red. His cock twitched in homage. He was going to bury his nose in that pretty bit and open that plush slit to discover all the treats inside.
She arched back against the island, her elbows to the counter, offering him her pussy, rocking her hips up to show him just how talented she was and how damn needy.
She extended one leg. And as she raised her hips toward him, she stilled. He saw a darker tinge to her pussy, there where her slit opened.
She swallowed so hard, he heard her.
“Show me,” he demanded, “how wet you are.”
Her hands moved once more over her body. She caressed her breasts, quickly and with a groan, and then plunged her hands to her cunt. In a torturously slow motion, she parted her labia.
He heard her cream.
He smelled her.
In one stride, he went to her and sank to his knees.
She was lovely. Her pussy pink and pretty. Her plump labia fat and glistening with her juices. She opened her cunt so far for him he could see her swollen clit protruding, begging for his lips.
Reduced to quaking need, he brac
ed her with two hands on her ass cheeks. He put his mouth to her swollen pearl to suck on her, torn between wanting this and craving more.
The first taste of her, sweet and musky, the first lick of her satin flesh, hot and molten marble, and he was lost.
Lost to her creamy pussy and her pulsing labia. His fingers found her cunt and sank deep, high inside. He couldn’t think, couldn’t stop, couldn’t have enough.
She spread her legs wider. He growled and put his mouth to her, his whole tongue laving her now, adoring her, draining her, pumping her in thanks for the offering of her sensual perfection.
She shouted out her joy and he turned rabid to make her come, now.
Her knees buckled but he grabbed her up, pressed her to the cabinet, told her in garbled nonsense how he had to make her come this way, now.
She dug her fingers into his shoulders and, against his might, she sank to the floor. She thrashed so in her excitement that her blindfold fell loose. Her gaze locked on his for only a second of blazing desire.
Driven now by her need as well as his own, he spread her out, her toned thighs wide, and still sought her hot, wet cunt. She was succulent, dripping with need, and he was the one, the only one to make her happy. He swore this was so.
“Yes!” she agreed over and over in the one word she had spoken in hours. Her fingers twined in his hair, she whimpered and sobbed as she came in a huge wave. Her pussy gushing, her channel pounding, he lapped at her goodness, frenzied to make her come again, longer and sweeter.
She orgasmed almost instantly, her hips rising off the floor, right into the ravening praise of his mouth and his tongue.
Crying, she writhed with a third orgasm and this time, he slid up over her to wrap her in his arms and rock her to her own ecstasy.
He sampled her swollen mouth and she hugged him. At once, her hands sank to his shirt, his buttons, and she tore at them.
He grabbed her wrists, wanting more of the power to delight her—and this was not the way to give her another set of climaxes.
Tie Me Down: 2 (Knights in Black Leather) Page 7