Trust in Me (Hawkeye Book 2)

by Sierra Cartwright

  They both knew this was about more than her hair. He’d told her he’d give her commands to see if she would obey. In her books, the heroines were much braver than she was. They instantly complied, while she had a bucket of fear to contend with.

  “It starts with a single step.”

  “What if it’s the one that sends me off the edge of the cliff?”

  “It will be,” he promised.

  His surety made her gulp.

  Keeping her gaze fastened on him for strength, she pulled off the ponytail holder.

  “Muss up your hair.”

  As if knowing what she needed, he continued to hold her. The last of her resistance melted. She fed her fingers into her hair, drawing some around her face, then toying with the strands until they teased her shoulders.

  “Beautiful. But you’re beautiful no matter what.” He leaned in to capture her lower lip between his teeth, gently at first, then with a bit more force.

  Rather than pulling away, Aimee surrendered. As she gave herself over to the slight pain, she found intense pleasure. Yes. This was what she’d craved. It was as exquisite as she dreamed.

  He continued the pressure on her lower lip. Rational thought became impossible.

  Subtly he changed what he was doing, demanding entrance to her mouth.

  Willingly she surrendered.

  She liked to be kissed, and this man knew how to kiss. He tasted of temptation and determination. There was no hiding from him or his demands.

  Her arms went around him. She flattened one palm on his back, and with the other hand, she dug her fingers into his black hair. She raised on tiptoes to meet him more completely.

  He was kissing her, and she was kissing him back.

  Though they’d done this before, there was nothing similar about the experiences. Trace was more demanding as their tongues met in thrust and parry. She had a taste of what sex with him might be like, and she wanted more. His insistence awakened her, and the way he drew her tight and held her there gave her security she didn’t realize she’d been lacking.

  Slowly, he drew back, ending the kiss. “Your responses are exquisite.”

  The approval in his husky voice sent a tiny jolt of excitement through her. She’d taken that first step. Instead of terrifying, it was liberating.

  “Shall we continue?”

  Slowly, her lower lip throbbing, she nodded. Trace took his time releasing her before he took a couple of steps back.

  “What are you wearing beneath the T-shirt?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Show me.”

  His quiet command was a raw thrill, disconcerting and so different. Drawing a breath, she pulled the garment up, then off, dropping it to the floor.

  “Oh, querida…”

  That raw huskiness in his voice thrilled her. She’d never been with a man so appreciative.

  “How do you play with them?”

  “I…”

  “Fight through your embarrassment.” His voice was the encouragement she needed.

  Aimee tipped back her head, closed her eyes, then used her forefingers to circle her nipples until they hardened.

  “Beautiful.”

  She opened her eyes to see him staring at her. She needed him. “Will you touch me?” The words were more a plea than she’d intended. “I need your touch. I want to feel your hands on me. I want your mouth on my breasts, your tongue on my nipples.” She lifted her breasts in invitation. “Please, Trace.”

  “It would be my pleasure.” He was there for her, his arms around her, supporting her, one palm pressed against the small of her back, the other cradling her nape.

  He lowered his head to capture a nipple between his tongue and top teeth. “I want to know what you like. Too much?”

  “No. It’s…” Not enough.

  Then he sucked, hard, and her knees buckled.

  He caught her, sweeping her from the ground and carrying her down the hallway to her bedroom.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  “I haven’t even started with you yet,” he promised, setting her on the floor.

  He put his pistol on the nightstand. She was so caught up with what he was doing that she didn’t even protest the gun being in her bedroom. Her arms fell to her sides as she surrendered to him. He sucked her right nipple while he pinched the other between his thumb and forefinger. She arched her back, asking for more.

  “Keep still,” he ordered.

  “Keep still?” Had he lost his mind? Because she was definitely losing hers. She’d never experienced anything like this, exquisite and painful, creating a demand from the inside out.

  “Part of your lessons,” he said, returning to her nipple and torturing it relentlessly.

  She’d taken the first steps, she realized, and he was exerting his will more powerfully. He’d force her to be an active participant. Already she was learning there was nothing passive about being involved with him.

  She began to squirm as heat flooded her body. She wanted more. More pressure. More intensity. She wanted to orgasm.

  “Distract yourself,” he said. “Think about something else, anything else other than how your body is responding to what I’m doing. Think about the fact I want you to keep still. Think about pleasing me.”

  “I…”

  “Can,” he told her. “You can. You’re a runner. Breathe. Use the same techniques you use there.”

  “But—”

  “Breathe.” He sucked, gently at first, then with unyielding force.

  She squirmed. She was coming undone. He couldn’t possibly have any idea what he was asking of her, demanding of her. He’d assigned her a task, and she was doomed to failure. Staying still was nearly impossible with the way he tormented her. She’d never realized how sensitive her nipples were, never knew she could get so turned on from breast play.

  She tried to follow his instructions.

  When the only thing she could think of was how much she wanted to come, she forced her thoughts to her project and looming deadline. She met his gaze, saw the slight smile that toyed with his lips before he moved that skillful mouth to the tip of her other breast.

  She wanted to do what he said, she realized, wanted to please him, wanted to see him smile at her.

  He moved one of his hands between her legs. Helplessly, shamelessly, she ground her crotch against him, wishing she’d taken off her shorts. Even though she was dressed, he unerringly found her swollen clit and pushed his thumb against the sensitized nub. When she could no longer breathe in a controlled way, she settled for panting. Hearing his instructions echoing in her mind, she struggled to fend off the orgasm. But no matter how hard she tried to keep still, she couldn’t.

  He moved to her other nipple and bit. She cried out as a million tingles zapped through her.

  Unexpectedly, an orgasm caught her. In a powerful and undeniable wave, it crashed into her, over her. “Oh, Trace!” She moved faster and faster against him, riding the wave of the climax, her pussy clenching.

  He kept his mouth on her, his hand between her legs as she ground it out, damn near achieving a second orgasm.

  When he finally moved away, her shoulders slumped forward. She was shattered. Complete. Overwhelmed.

  Uttering soft, reassuring words that she couldn’t quite understand, Trace wrapped his strong arms around her, offering support as he feathered a kiss against the top of her head.

  Seconds later, when her breathing had returned to normal and her brain regained its functionality, she realized she was lying on the bed and he was beside her. She placed her head on his chest and said, “That never happens quite so fast.”

  “You’re as responsive as I hoped.” He traced one of her eyebrows.

  She’d always believed there was something wrong with her, and Jack had reinforced that. When she’d been at college, her roommates had talked about their experiences, and she didn’t have much to share in return. It seemed her friends enjoyed sex a whole lot more than she did. But now she was
wondering if she’d just been with the wrong men.

  “How are you feeling?”

  “Satisfied.” She wanted to wrap her arms around herself.

  “Good. We’re just getting started. I want you naked.”

  She eased back away from him a bit in order to meet his gaze. She saw tenderness in the depths of his brown eyes, but his jaw was set, the lines telepathing implacable power. She had waded into dangerous territory. Now there was nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

  Even as she questioned whether or not she’d actually go through with it, she climbed off the bed and took a couple of steps backward.

  Her nipples were still hardened into little pebbles, the cool whisper of air from the overhead fan keeping them taut.

  She hooked her fingers beneath the band of her shorts and wiggled until they slid down her legs. She stepped from them, leaving them in a pile on the floor. They both knew she could have simultaneously removed her underwear, but she didn’t have the guts for that.

  “A thong?”

  She nodded.

  “Leaves your ass bare. Were you hoping for a spanking, Aimee?”

  “No!”

  He laughed.

  “Well, maybe.” He was right, but she didn’t want to admit it to him, or even herself.

  “It’s pretty. But it needs to come off.” He patiently waited while she discarded the scrap of material. The crotch was damp from her earlier climax and from the continual wetness his words caused.

  Finally she stood there in front of him, bare. She tipped back her head, then folded and unfolded her arms a couple of times, not quite sure what to do with them.

  “Lovely,” he said. “I had no idea whether or not I’d find you shaven. I like it.” His tone was rich with approval. “I would have shaved you myself.”

  The idea of having him so close, so intimate, while she was spread before him, vulnerable, sent goose bumps down her arms.

  “When in doubt, keep your hands behind your back.”

  “Do you miss anything?”

  “When it comes to you? Not ever, Aimee.”

  Having his attention so focused on her made her heady.

  She moved her hands behind her back, and the act thrust out her breasts a little more.

  “So pretty. I want your legs apart, regardless of whether you’re kneeling or standing.”

  Kneeling? She gulped. Then, realizing he was waiting for her compliance, she spread her legs.

  “Farther,” he encourage. “Shoulder width, at least. I always want access to your pussy.”

  Her insides turned molten.

  “That’s it.”

  His constant approval made her want to please him more. He was a master of her seduction.

  “Now face away from me.”

  She was reluctant to do as he said. Looking at him helped keep her grounded.

  “Do as I say.” His gruff tone let her know he wouldn’t be disobeyed.

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered. With trepidation, she followed his order.

  “Now bend over and grab your ankles.”

  If she did so, with her feet so far apart, she would be totally exposed. Humiliation threatened to pull her into an undertow. She almost protested, but she stopped herself. He knew exactly what he was asking her to do and how much it would cost her emotionally to yield to him.

  Trace didn’t repeat his command. Instead, he waited, not touching her. Since he was behind her, she couldn’t drink encouragement from his expressions. She was at a turning point. She could refuse, end this, maybe have hot sex, or she could go for it, embracing the things she’d always fantasized about.

  Decision made, she hurriedly bent and grabbed her ankles—needing to do it before she changed her mind. The sight of the world upside down was too much, and she closed her eyes.

  As she waited, schooling herself to be patient, she concentrated on the sound of the overhead fan and felt the air on her exposed parts, and she wondered what he was doing.

  Looking at her, that was for sure. Thinking? Planning? Enjoying the sight? Please God, she hoped he liked what he saw.

  All her senses hummed, supercharged.

  She inhaled the scent of him, that intoxicating blend of man and spice. She hungered for the sound of his voice.

  “Almost perfect.” He moved in behind her. He used his foot to exert pressure against the inside of her right ankle, forcing her into the position he wanted. “You’re gorgeous. Everything about you.”

  He stroked her between the legs, long, sweeping motions with his large fingers. “Beautifully wet, Aimee.” He parted her labia and glided a fingertip across her clit. “Your body is so honest.”

  Involuntarily she jerked.

  “Try to keep still. Accept what I give you while I take what I want.”

  He feathered her clit again, and she gasped. But instead of moving, she squeezed her eyes shut even tighter and drew a deep breath.

  “Quick learner,” he said. He pressed a finger firmly on her clit. She moved forward a scant inch, trying to get away from the maddening, delicious intensity of the feeling. “Accept it,” he reminded her.

  He put a palm against the middle of her back, keeping her bent and preventing her from moving away. Then he increased the pressure on her tiny, already swollen nub.

  “Trace,” she murmured. Unbelievably another orgasm was already building inside. She told herself she could come from just this tiny amount of sensation, but she knew she was wrong. It wasn’t just about his touch. It was about his mastery of her. It was the combination of the words he used and the force he exerted.

  Even she could smell her arousal.

  He began to move his finger in a tiny circle, and at the same time, with his palm, he pressed harder. “Focus.”

  She whimpered. Her hips began to sway, even though she fought against it. “Actinium,” she said. “Aluminum. Americium.”

  “The periodic table?”

  She didn’t answer him. Instead, she focused. “Antimony…” She trailed off as he continued his relentless assault on her body. “Argon… Please! Please stop. Otherwise I’m going to come.”

  “Not yet.”

  “Trace!”

  “Do as I say,” he snapped.

  Unbelievably, his sharp tone turned her on even more.

  “I—”

  “Breathe!”

  Her knees threatened to give out. She could barely keep hold of her ankles. Thinking about anything except what he was doing was impossible. She needed to let him know that, but she couldn’t find the words. “I…”

  “Your orgasms are mine to give or deny. Fight it out, Aimee.”

  She did. Her eyes still scrunched closed, struggling for breath, she whispered, “Arsenic, astatine, barium…”

  “Now.” He slid a finger inside her. “Come now.”

  The orgasm swamped her. She lost her footing, and Trace grabbed hold of her, supporting her as he turned her, then scooped her from the floor and carried her to the bed. He lay down with her, careful to keep his boots off the mattress. He held her close, cradled her tenderly, her head on the soft material of his T-shirt.

  “Thank you,” she whispered. Until now she’d never understood why the female subs in the stories she read would be so appreciative after a climax. She figured they were because that was what their Doms demanded. Now she knew differently.

  Her gratitude wasn’t just for the earthmoving climax. It wasn’t just because he’d relented and given his permission to come. Her gratitude was for all that and the way he read her so perfectly, recognizing what she needed, when she needed it, and for having her hang on longer than she might have so that the experience was even more meaningful. Most of all, it was for catching her, caring for her when she wasn’t sure she was able to.

  “That’s a start, Aimee. Your introduction to turning over control.”

  She bunched his shirt in her fist, and he stroked his fingers down her spine, soothingly, possessively.

  “When you’re ready for
more, I’ll give you that spanking.”

  Before she thought it through, she swallowed. “I want to do that now.”

  “Now?”

  “Yes.” Get it over with, so that she would know whether it was for her or not. So far, what they’d done had exceeded her wildest dreams. But taking it further?

  “You’re sure? You don’t need to think about what just happened?”

  “I’m more sure of this than anything else.

  “In that case, I want you to come find me when you’re ready. Be naked.”

  “But…”

  “I’m giving you a couple of minutes to think it through. I also want to check in with the team, look at the cameras.”

  She placed her hand on his chest and pushed herself up a little to meet his gaze. “I’m not going to change my mind.”

  His slow smile made her proud of her decision. “Good.”

  He untangled their bodies—when had she gotten so wrapped up in him?—and slowly circled one of her nipples before sliding from the bed.

  After watching him go, she collapsed against the pillow, her heart thundering. He moved through the house as if he owned it, his footsteps sure. He talked on his phone, and his voice was steady, in sharp contrast to the firmness that had undercut it while he was playing with her.

  Heaven save her.

  They’d played.

  As each second ticked by, Aimee wished he hadn’t given her time to reconsider. As the sexual high faded, she started to question herself. Who in their right mind walked naked to the living room and trusted the big badass agent there to spank her?

  A few minutes later, silence shrouded the house. He’d finished his rounds, and he was waiting for her decision.

  Until this evening, she hadn’t realized how much was expected of a submissive. He made it clear that she had to be a participant at every turn. She had to go to him, without clothes, shedding her inhibitions. For a woman with as little experience as she had, it was a huge challenge.

  But to get what she wanted, she had to follow through. Forcing aside her hesitations, she left the bed to join him.

  He was seated in the dining room, and when she drew close, he put his phone facedown on the table and looked at her. “This is a surprise. A very pleasant one.”

  Earlier, he’d given instructions, been there as she undressed, but standing before him like this was ten times more difficult than it had been earlier.