by Desiree Holt
Killian had explained to her, right in the beginning, he wasn’t really into the whole bondage and discipline thing but it turned him on to have her appear helpless to do his bidding. To tie her up and ravish her body at his leisure. It astonished her how erotic it was to her and how much it turned her on. Their own special little game.
Now, she waited as he wound the length of braided silk around her wrists and tied the end off in a knot. Finished, he walked around to stand in front of her, close enough that her mouth touched his shaft. She could see the blood pulsing through the thick vein wrapped around it. Bending slightly, she traced the length of that vein with her tongue, reveling in the shudder that ran through his big body. She did it again and again, until he drove his fingers in the fall of her hair, twisting the strands around them, and shifted her so the head of his dick rested right on her bottom lip.
“You know what I want.” The sound of his voice was guttural, its harshness arousing because it indicated the degree of his need.
“Mmhmm,” was all she could say as she opened her mouth and wrapped her lips around his thickness.
Killian tugged on her hair to tilt her head back a little more, allowing him to slide his engorged shaft along her tongue, deeper into her mouth. He moved his hips in the rhythm he’d found worked best for them, the head of his cock sliding deep and bumping at the back of her throat then slipping out again. Lexie kept her lips closed around him, scoring the silky soft skin lightly with her teeth. Sometimes she bit down just a little, eliciting a harsh groan from him and causing him to up the speed of his movement.
She’d learned how to use her tongue the way he’d taught her, teasing the head with it every time he drew back. It didn’t take long, as aroused as he was. In fact, to Lexie it seemed like only seconds before his entire body tensed. He drove into her mouth three times, hard and fast, and exploded. She swallowed convulsively as his thick semen filled her mouth and slid down her throat. With each spasm of his shaft, she sucked and pulled, draining him of every last drop.
At last, his fingers eased their grip on her hair, and he slid his hands down to cradle her head in his palms. When she raised her eyes to his, her breath caught at the intensity of the emotion there.
“Always, always, always remember how special you are to me.” His voice was low, soft, gentle. Then he grinned. “And not just because you have a mouth I would kill for.”
She grinned at him. “But it helps, right?”
“It’s part of the package.” He reached down and helped her to her feet. “And I want the entire package. Every bit of it.” He slipped his tongue into her mouth, swirling it around once. “Tasting myself on you is so damn sexy. But I think it needs a little spice.”
Reaching around behind her, he loosened the rope then lifted her to the bed. She knew exactly the position he liked for her, on her back with arms spread wide so he could bind her wrists to the headboard. He watched her the entire time he looped and knotted the rope, just as he always did. Checking for her discomfort. Checking for any sign of reservation. It was such a big part of what and who he was, a man whose love for her came before anything. She figured that was part of the reason she could be so uninhibited with him. She trusted him completely.
She kept her eyes on him as he slid back onto his knees, pausing to place strings of kisses over the upper swell of her breasts. She arched her upper body to him, silently urging him to suck her nipples and torment them as he liked to do. In seconds, he obliged her, attending to first one taut bud then the other. His mouth was hot, his tongue even hotter as he swirled it around the tip. She bowed with pleasure when he bit down first on one then the other, then sucked each one deep into his mouth.
They were swollen and throbbing when he finally slid farther down her body, teasing her navel and the flesh around it before grabbing the top of her thong in his teeth. The slight late-day scruff on his face rubbed erotically against her skin, calling up a myriad of sensations.
“I think we should make a rule in this house,” he said in a conversational tone. “One day a week we should both go commando.”
She chuckled as the images flashed across her mind. “Won’t that be a little uncomfortable when you sit in the saddle?”
“Hmmm. Didn’t think of that. I’ll have to put my mind to the problem. Find some special rules to cover that situation.” He pulled on the lacy ties at each hip, freeing the thong so he could pull it from her body.
“I think you—” Rational thought fled as he pushed her legs wider and traced the length of her slit with the tip of his tongue. If she’d been wet before, she was soaked now, the combination of the restraints and his very talented tongue driving everything except what he did to her out of her mind.
Heat streaked like electricity from her core to every part of her body. The walls of her pussy fluttered in need, muscles clenched with desire, breasts ached to be tormented even more. God, he could drive her out of her mind with one little stroke of his tongue, one little nip of her clit, one thrust of his fingers inside her. She wanted that right now. Right this minute.
She dug her heels into the mattress, lifting her hips in silent entreaty. Killian buried his face in her neatly trimmed pubic curls, laughing softly as he traced her slit over and over with his tongue. She felt the wet heat of it against her sensitive skin, brushing here and there, never staying long enough in one place to satisfy her.
He stroked and tormented, knowing exactly where and how to use his tongue. Lexie tugged on the rope restraining her wrists, using the leverage to arch her body to him. She panted with need when, at last, he thrust his tongue into her hot channel, curling it so the tip hit that sensitive sweet spot that drove her crazy.
“Oh! Oh! Oh!” The little exclamations burst from her like tiny explosions of sound.
Killian dragged his tongue from the clasp of her tissues and raised his head to look at her, his mouth shiny wet with her juices.
“Too much?” he asked. “Shall I stop?” But he grinned at her, a hungry, knowing grin.
“No.” She groaned the word. “Don’t stop. Do. Not. Stop.”
Killian bent to his task, using his educated tongue and clever fingers to drive her wild with need. Time and again, he brought her to the brink, only to ease back, let her simmer before pushing those sensitive buttons again. He had her teetering on the brink for so long that when the orgasm crashed down on her, it took her by surprise. One moment, she strained for the release, the next she convulsed with it, pushed along further by Killian’s talented tongue and fingers.
Moments later, she lay panting, her body trembling. Despite the relief, she still felt unfulfilled. She wanted more. Much more. She wanted him inside her, filling her so full she could hardly breathe.
As if he’d read her mind, Killian rose to his knees and, with a deft twist of his fingers, undid the ropes binding her to the headboard. Next came the condom from the nightstand, rolled on with rapid dexterity. And finally…finally!…he pressed her knees back, opening her sex wide to him, positioned himself at her opening, and, with a thrust, drove himself inside her.
God!
Would she ever get used to the incredible feeling this gave her? The hard thickness of his shaft filled her completely. Despite the orgasm he’d just given her, her body responded again, sensations cascading through her.
Killian paused, bracing on his hands and looking deep into her eyes. “I love you, Lexie. You are my heart.”
“I love you, too.
She never tired of hearing him say it, or saying it back to him.
With his gaze focused on hers, his eyes darkened to ebony with passion, he let out a deep breath and began the steady motion that would take them both where they wanted to be. In and out. Back and forth. And all the time he talked to her in that low, guttural tone that turned her on so much, telling her all the things he wanted to do to her for the rest of their lives.
The climax roared through her with sharp suddenness, her body stiffening, the walls of her sex grippi
ng his shaft.
“Now,” he growled. “Let it happen, Lexie.”
And she did, giving herself over to the intense spasms shaking her as if her body was in the grip of a giant fist. She convulsed over and over, nothing existing except her and this man who was her world and the intensity of the orgasm that joined them.
He held her through the aftershocks, catching most of his weight on his forearms, then peppering her face with soft kisses.
“I never want to lose this,” he said at last. “This, with you, everything, is so incredible.”
“Me, either,” she whispered. “And we won’t.”
Putting her arms around him and pulling his sweat-slicked body tightly to hers, she deliberately squashed the tiny thread of unease trying to wriggle its way into her brain. Nothing, nothing, would ever destroy what the two of them had together. She’d make sure of it.
Chapter Three
They were both up early in the morning, despite the stresses of the day before and the absolutely incredible but exhausting sex of the previous night. Killian interviewed prospects for ranch hands while Lexie worked a full day at Heart Starter. He’d thought about what he wanted to say all the while he showered, while he dressed, and while he fixed their coffee. Now, when he sat down at the table with her, he carried the envelope from the Savannah Art Show Committee, dropping it on the surface between them. It was dumb luck he’d been the one to take the mail in the day it came. Otherwise, lord only knew if she’d have said anything to him.
Lexie stared at it as if it might bite her.
“Are you ever going to open it?” he asked at last.
She shrugged. “Maybe, although I’m sure it’s a very polite rejection.”
“You won’t know until you look.”
He wished he could infuse her with the kind of self-confidence she lacked where her art was concerned. He knew she’d never completely recovered from the disaster of her last art show in Savannah. A fellow artist, who she’d thought her friend then her love, had quite literally stolen the show from her. With family wealth behind him, he’d bought off two of the judges and persuaded them to award the prize and the contract for an individual show to him instead. Worse, he’d created a false romantic relationship with her to throw her off her guard. She’d fled Savannah and never looked back.
Killian was aware of and respected the courage it took for her to begin to paint again. He might not be an art connoisseur, but he thought her work damn fucking good. He just wished he could encourage her to take that next step forward. He watched her now as she sipped her coffee, staring at the envelope.
“I guess I should probably open it,” she said at last.
“It might be good news.”
“Yeah, right.” She twisted her lips in a grimace. “It’s called the Emerging Artists Exhibit. I’m sure they think I’m long past that designation.”
“Maybe not.” He shrugged. “You never actually exhibited or sold any of your art, so don’t you still fit that description?”
“There are only one hundred slots in the show,” she reminded him. “They fill up fast, so I’ve probably already missed out.”
“Lexie.” He raked his fingers through his hair in frustration. “Damn it, at least look and see what it says. If they say no, then that’s it and done. But you took the trouble to fill out the application, so you must have some desire to participate.”
“I don’t even know why I did it.” She nibbled on her thumbnail. “I guess I could look. If they turn me down—”
“Exactly. So let’s have a look.”
She set her mug down and picked up the envelope, trying to conceal the fact her hands shook as she pried open the flap. When she had the letter inside eased out, she took a deep breath and then unfolded it. Shock washed across her face. He watched her study it as if it had been written in a foreign language.
“Oh. My. God.” She still stared at the sheet of paper.
“What? Did they turn you down? Assholes. Here let me see.” If they’d said no, he might have to go to Savannah and beat the shit out of these people himself. He took the letter from her unresisting fingers and spread it out in front of him. “Damn, Lex. They want you to submit digital copies of three pieces of your work before they make a final decision.”
“I saw that.” Her face was a battleground of hope and fear. “They might not like what I submit.”
“Always a possibility.” He reached across the table and closed his big hand over her small one. She trembled beneath his touch. “But if they choose one, then you have a slot.”
“True.”
He could almost see her processing her thoughts as he stared at her. Asking herself if it was possible. If she would have a second chance. There was no way the asshole who had bribed his way into the winning spot last time could torpedo her this time. He definitely wasn’t an emerging artist.
When he discovered by accident she’d decided to enter this prestigious show, Killian had been so pleased—maybe, finally, she was moving out of the closet she’d locked herself into with her art since that huge fiasco. He believed in her talent. More than that, he wanted her to be able to move past the effects of what had happened and expand her horizons. He was trying to be supportive and encouraging while not overwhelming her.
“So, who gets to make the choices?” He probably should have looked this all up. Done some research.
“A panel of six people.” She glanced at the letter again. “It’s a combination of established artists and gallery owners.”
“Do you know who they are?”
Lexie nodded. “I saw the list when I accessed the web site. I don’t know them personally, of course, but they are all recognized in the art world.” She sighed and sat back in her chair. “I don’t even know why I did it. I was through with all of that. Over it, done with it. So, what was I searching for?”
“Let me ask you a question.” Killian took a swallow of coffee and set his mug back down. “Why Savannah? Why not try someplace else? It’s not the only city with art shows. Hell, they probably have them in Kansas.”
But even before she said anything, he knew the answer.
Kansas isn’t Savannah.
“I went to school there,” she reminded him. “I know the prestige of the art shows that committee sponsors.”
He narrowed his eyes at her. “And if I’m guessing right, you want a victory there to wipe away what happened last time.”
She wanted vindication in the place where it had all fallen apart for her.
For a moment, he wondered if she was sorry she’d ever told him. He understood that had been one of the most humiliating episodes of her life, both personally and professionally. Instead of staying and fighting for the truth, she’d turned tail and run back to Kansas as fast as she could. For a year she hadn’t even picked up a brush.
She was painting again, more now than before, but only for herself. Even the ones she hung in Heart Starter had no signature, and she refused to tell anyone about them, no matter how much he urged her. He hated that she felt she had to hide her talent away because of some jerkoff.
If she hadn’t gotten thoroughly angry with him one night, he might still not have found out. But the portrait she’d painted of him had sealed the deal between them, the way she’d really understood who and what he was. She had put all of her feelings into it. Since then, he’d been about as subtle as a sledgehammer, encouraging her to paint more and spread her wings in the art world again, but she’d continued to resist.
Had he made a mistake here, butting into this? They’d been married such a short time. He didn’t want to do anything to damage the beginning of an excellent marriage.
“Lexie?”
She looked up at the sound of his voice.
“Did I lose you, honey? I mean, I know I’m just a dumb cowboy, but I think I know good—”
“Shut up.”
Okay, he shouldn’t have used the dumb cowboy bit. She hated when he did that. But still…
&n
bsp; “Shut up? Are you telling your wonderful husband to shut up?” He grinned, hoping she’d relax.
“Yes, I am.” She rubbed her forehead, and he hoped this whole thing hadn’t given her a headache. “You may be a cowboy, but you are not dumb”
“Okay, okay, okay.” He sat up straight and held out his hands, palms facing forward. “Just trying to inject a little note of humor here.”
“Well, it wasn’t the least bit funny.” She wet her lips and leaned onto her forearms. “Killian, you are smarter than half the people in the state of Kansas, so quit the dumb cowboy jokes, okay?”
“Got it.” He grinned at her. “Just not an art expert.” Then he sobered. “But I do know good work when I see it. And yours is damn fucking good.”
“Okay.” She let out a deep sigh. “I know I need to do this. If I don’t, I’ll be hiding from it for the rest of my life.”
“Yes, you will, darlin’. And if you never enter another show, I don’t care. I just want you to enter this one so you can tell those idiots to stick it up their collective asses.”
Lexie burst out laughing. “They’d have to take the sticks out first. But, okay. I see what you mean.”
“So?”
“Okay. I’ll do it.” She blew out a breath and sat up straighter. “I’ll send in the photos.”
“Which pieces are you going to use? Do you know yet?”
Lexie shook her head. “I have a week to get them in. I’ll start going through the finished ones when I get home today.”
She looked so adorable, sitting there in her jeans and her Heart Starter T-shirt, a combination of hope and nerves. He wanted to do something to ease the tension gripping her.
“Maybe we can do it together,” he suggested. “I’ve got some favorites.”
“Um, sure. Okay.” She’d let him choose, but when he turned his back, she’d take the picture of her favorite. She rose from the table, taking her mug and Killian’s. “We can start going through them when I get home. Right now, I have to get to work.”