Seduction on His Terms

by Sarah M. Anderson

  But what really drew her eye was the massive four-poster bed. Truly, it was huge. She’d heard of California king beds but she’d never seen one in person and the bed probably took up more space than Melissa’s whole room back home. Which would’ve been overwhelming enough but that didn’t take into consideration the drapes. Around each of the four posts, airy white drapes were overlaid with pale blue damask that made it look almost like a fairy bed.

  “I hope this is all right,” Robert said, jamming his hands into his pockets.

  “It’s amazing and you’re cute when you’re nervous.”

  “I’m not nervous,” he shot back in a way that was 100 percent nervous.

  “That’s good, because you’re not cute, either.” She took a step toward him. He didn’t move back, but he inhaled sharply. Not nervous, her fanny. Besides the fireplace, she saw one of those wooden butler things men used to set out their suits. Over the shoulder of a royal blue jacket was a red silk tie. “Here,” she said, stepping around him. She snatched up the tie, trying not to wince at the label—Armani, of course. She was about to permanently mangle a tie that probably cost a few hundred dollars.

  But then again, this was Robert, who’d knocked down some of the most expensive real estate in the world so he could have a lake view. To hell with the tie.

  She looped a quick slipknot around one wrist and turned back to him, her arms outstretched. “How about this? You can tie my wrists to make sure I don’t grab you.”

  His mouth dropped open as color rushed to his cheeks and Jeannie took a perverse sort of pleasure in shocking him. He was barely hanging on to his control and after so many thousands of hours of watching him lock down every emotion, practically every response and expression, she was demolishing those walls.

  “You—I—” He snapped his mouth shut and tried to straighten cuffs he wasn’t wearing. “No.”

  “No?” She loosely wrapped the other end around her wrist and then lifted the tie to her mouth, letting the silk play over her lips. “Not even to keep me quiet?”

  He had to grab one of the bedposts to keep upright. She smiled but didn’t get any closer to him. Instead, she circled around him, kicking off her sandals. “Unless you wanted me to leave the shoes on?”

  He managed to shake his head.

  The bed was so damn big there was a little step stool at the foot of it. She climbed up onto the bed and walked to the center of it.

  Robert’s eyes never left hers. At this angle, he probably had a decent view of her legs and, if she twirled, maybe even her panties. She knelt on the bed and held out her hands. “Robert. Come to me.”

  “No,” he said again, more forcefully. “I could hurt—”

  “I don’t believe that for a second,” she interrupted. “You’re not a damned monster, Robert, so stop acting like one. You’re a man. And not even a cute one. You’re the most gorgeous, complicated, outright kind man I’ve ever met and you’re learning how to be a good hugger and you take care of babies and kids and I’ve spent literal actual years dreaming about you, about this moment. Besides, I’m not that breakable. I trust you.”

  “I don’t trust myself,” he ground out, clinging to the bedpost. “Don’t you see? I...” He set his jaw. “You shouldn’t trust me, either.”

  Oh, Robert. She let the tie drop away from her wrist and undid the slipknot as she pushed back to her feet.

  “Fine,” she told him. “Give me your hands.”

  He shot her a look of disbelief. “What?”

  “Your hands. Don’t talk. Just do it.” For a second she didn’t think he was going to do it. “You don’t trust yourself? Fine. I’ll tie you to the bedpost and then you won’t be able to do anything.”

  Nine

  Robert sucked in air as Jeannie got closer to him. “I’ll tie you down and ride you hard. I won’t talk and I won’t touch you and you won’t be able to do anything about it.”

  “Wyatts don’t submit,” he got out, sounding like she’d rabbit-punched him.

  That sounded like...like something that had been said to him, but she couldn’t think about what it meant right now. The look he gave her would’ve turned a lesser mortal to stone but she knew him far too well to let a well-placed glare put her off.

  “Don’t make me wait,” she pleaded. Because if he said no...

  “Would you really wait for me?” His voice was ragged.

  She wasn’t supposed to touch him—that was the rule. But she couldn’t not touch him, not when he looked so desperately devastated. She touched the tips of her fingers to his forehead and, when he didn’t pull away, she skimmed them down the sides of his face.

  “Always,” she whispered against his forehead. “I’ll always wait for you. But trust me. Trust yourself.”

  He made a choked noise and pushed her away. She stumbled a little because this bed was so danged plush and yeah, she’d broken the rules and that was that. But when she got her balance back, she saw he’d held out his hands.

  He didn’t look at her. He kept his eyes down, shoulders back and yep, this was war. But she knew now—he wasn’t fighting her.

  He was fighting himself.

  Oh, Robert.

  She looped the silk tie around his wrists and then around the bedpost. Nothing was tight—if he wanted, he could twist his way free. But this wasn’t about restraining him for safety, no matter how he tried to frame it like that.

  This was about proving he could trust himself. Because he needed that. She was afraid to ask why.

  The knot secured—sort of—she scooted off the edge of the bed so she could stand next to him. “Just to help you on the bed,” she said softly as she put her hands on his shoulders.

  The man was shaking as she turned him around and undid his belt and the fly of his shorts. For all his defensiveness, there was no mistaking that erection. Dear God, even contained behind his boxer briefs, Robert swelled upward, long and rock-hard. There was so much she wanted to say—that he was as impressive as hell, all the ways she’d dreamed of having him, asking him what he liked, telling him how to touch her—if only to break the oppressive silence of the room.

  But she didn’t because those were the rules. Instead, she focused on the harsh panting sound of his breathing, the way he tensed when her hand brushed along that impressive ridge. But she didn’t palm him, didn’t slip her hand inside his briefs. Hell, she didn’t even push his briefs down. She could do that when she was on the bed.

  She could explore quite a bit before he could get free. She could rip open his shirt and finally take what she wanted from him.

  She didn’t. He’d given her so much—his money, his time, peace of mind when it came to Melissa. But this? Robert was giving her the most precious gift of all.

  His trust.

  No way in hell was she going to abuse it.

  So she guided him down onto the bed and then swung his legs up. “Scoot down,” she said, keeping her voice low and calm. “Just—yeah, like that.”

  She was trembling, too, she realized. This man was broken in ways she was afraid to understand and definitely couldn’t fix, but that wasn’t the sum total of who he was. He was still Robert—thoughtful in his demands, overbearing in his caring, seductive in his intensity.

  She arranged him so his legs pointed to the center of the bed—which left her plenty of room to work with.

  “Okay?” she asked, watching him closely as she slid her panties off.

  He nodded.

  Okay, she thought, climbing back onto the bed and standing over him.

  Even tied to the post, his pants undone and his color high, there was something so ethereal, almost otherworldly, about the way his pale eyes stared at her.

  “Dress on or off?” she asked, lifting the hem.

  His gaze snapped to where she’d exposed her sex and he inhaled sharply. “On.”

&
nbsp; Yeah, that didn’t surprise her. She stepped over him, still holding on to the hem, letting him get a brief glimpse of her body. Heat flooded her sex as he stared at her hungrily, his hands trapped over his head. He made no move to get free.

  She had one of the most formidable men in the city, maybe even the whole country, at her mercy. The power was intoxicating.

  She let her hem drop. Robert made a noise of need, in the back of his throat, but she didn’t let him look again. Instead, she lowered herself to her knees, sitting on his thighs. “Okay?”

  “Yes.” His voice was deeper now as he stared at her breasts, and underneath his briefs, his erection jumped.

  She pulled his briefs down, gasping as he sprung free. His length was proud, long and ruddy and curving slightly to the right. She wanted to wrap her hand around it and feel the hot skin sliding over his hardness, wanted to suck him deep into her mouth and let her tongue drive him wild until he broke.

  But she’d promised, damn it all. So instead of exploring, she just said, “Condoms?”

  He jerked his chin to the bedside table. “The drawer.” Somehow, his voice was even deeper now. She felt it rumble throughout her body.

  Oh, he was going to be so good.

  She slid off him and, half sprawled across the massive mattress, got the box of condoms out of the drawer. The box was unopened, but the expiration date was several years off. Had he bought these just for her?

  She got one out and opened the packet, then made her way back to Robert. As efficiently as she could, she rolled the condom on—although he kept twitching, which made it a bit of a challenge, she thought with a smile.

  Then she scooted forward so his erection was right beneath her. She could feel him pulsing, sending little sparks of desire throughout her sex. She wanted to touch him so badly but because she couldn’t, all her attention was focused on where their bodies met.

  “Okay?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.” If anything, he sounded a little surprised by that.

  “Good.” She began to rock her hips, letting his erection drag over her sensitive flesh without taking him inside. Her whole world narrowed to the way she moved, how she had to be careful with her balance. To the ragged sound of his breathing mingling with hers. To the splash of red around his wrists that stood out in the sea of blue. To the way he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

  This was the most erotic moment of her life.

  She cupped her breasts through her dress, lifting them and tugging on the nipples. The sensation was dulled by the fabric and her bralette, but she didn’t care. She tugged harder, her legs clenching around his hips, her weight bearing down on his erection. Robert groaned as she teased herself, his hips thrusting faster, his movements wilder.

  Unexpectedly, an orgasm broke over her, showering her with stars. Moaning, her head dropped back. She would’ve toppled right off him if he hadn’t shifted, bringing his knees up and catching her.

  The sound of their panting filled the room. He pulsed against her swollen sex, hot and needy and unable to do a damn thing about it. When she could sit up again, she stared down at him with a dreamy smile on her face. “That was wonderful,” she said. What she wouldn’t give to lower herself to his chest and kiss him because orgasms like that didn’t exactly grow on trees.

  He growled. Because of course he did.

  She tsked him as she lifted herself up and felt his erection rise to meet her. Slowly, she took him inside.

  There was nothing else in the world but this. The slash of red above his head. The intense pale blue of his eyes. The cords of his neck straining as he filled her, inch by agonizingly wonderful inch. She bit back a cry of need because oh, God she’d never felt anything as wonderful as Robert inside her.

  She sucked two of her fingers into her mouth and then lifted the hem of her dress just enough so she could press her slick digits against herself. Robert groaned again, trying to roll his hips, trying to thrust up into her, but she used all her weight to pin him to the mattress.

  “Wait,” she said, letting her fingers move in slow circles, brushing against where he was joined with her, adjusting to the fullness of him. “Just be, Robert. Be with me.”

  He nodded, a small movement. Maybe it was all he was capable of.

  She kept her word. She didn’t touch him, except where he was buried deep inside, except where her hips rested on his. She didn’t moan or scream his name, didn’t tell him what she wanted. She waited until his breathing had started to even out, just a little—until she was sure he had himself back under control and could focus on this intimacy between them.

  She tightened her inner muscles around him, pleasure spiking hard and fast as he inhaled sharply. Even that small movement from him—she felt it travel up his length, felt her own body responding. She rubbed herself as she began to shift her hips, rising and falling on him at a languorous pace.

  With her free hand, she went back to her breast. She pulled the neckline of the dress down, shoved the pink lace of the bralette aside and, after licking her thumb, began to tease her own nipple.

  Robert’s eyes were almost black now and he shifted underneath her, using his feet so he could thrust. But that wasn’t it. As Jeannie stared down at him, she saw that he reached for the tie.

  She froze, just managing to keep her balance. But instead of jerking at the knots, Robert gripped the loose ends of the tie and held on tighter. “Don’t...stop, Jeannie.” He swallowed. “Please.”

  Relief broke over her almost as potent as another climax. “There,” she said, tugging at her nipple, pulling the hard tip until the most pleasurable pain rocketed through her. “Was that so hard?”

  She felt him jolt deep inside her. Then, miracle of miracles, he smiled. Just that small movement of his lips, so tiny no one else would notice it. Just for her.

  He was just for her.

  This time, when he thrust up into her, she met him as his equal, taking his thrusts and setting her own slow rhythm. She kept rubbing herself, pulling at her nipple, feeling him straining for his release, refusing to make it easy for him. If she wanted to, she knew she could get him off in a matter of minutes. Seconds.

  She had no idea if she’d ever get to have him like this again and she wasn’t going to waste a single moment of their time together. This moment might have to last her the rest of her life.

  She moved over him, fighting for control when all she wanted to do was fall upon him. The noises of sex filled their room, the slap of her flesh against his, their mingled breathing, the squeaking of the mattress.

  The red of the tie, the dark desire of his eyes, the pressure on her sex, the way he moved inside her—perfect and strong and right. So, so right.

  Oh, God. She gave first, pitching forward. She managed not to plant her hands on his chest, but it was a close thing. Instead, she braced her hands on the mattress and drove her hips down onto him faster and faster.

  “Robert,” she got out, her climax spiraling but not breaking—building, pushing her faster, slamming onto him harder and harder. “Oh, God.”

  “Jeannie.”

  She came apart at the need in his voice and then she kissed him as her orgasm robbed her of thought, of the ability to hold herself apart from him. She kissed him in victory and in defeat, for love and for loss.

  She kissed him.

  He groaned into her mouth, a noise of satisfaction, of completion. He groaned and pistoned his hips up into her before holding and straining and she took him in, all of him. Everything he had, she took—and it all pushed her orgasm even higher. She couldn’t help it when she tore herself away from him, throwing back her head as she peaked.

  Then she collapsed onto his chest, struggling to get enough air. She barely had the energy to pull herself free of him. “Oh, Robert,” she sighed, snuggling down into his chest.

  She felt the sharp intake of his b
reath, felt his hands on her arms as he moved her off his body. He didn’t follow her, didn’t cover her with his weight.

  All she saw was Robert’s back as the door slammed shut.

  He was gone.

  Ten

  Robert stood at the top of the stairs. He needed to go to Jeannie. Maybe apologize. Maybe wrap his arms around her and kiss her again.

  Probably both.

  He couldn’t move.

  He saw a shadow cross the terrace. Ah. She’d gone outside. Pulled by the lake, no doubt. He was glad she liked his view. He hoped she approved of him buying the land and donating the cleared spaces to the city.

  Would she be here long enough to see the stars?

  He slipped into his room and grabbed new clothes. Aside from the faint scent of oranges, there was no trace of her in the room. The tie had been returned to its starting place. The bed sheets had been straightened; the condom wrapper gone. Even her shoes had been removed.

  Strangely, he found himself longing for her to leave her mark.

  Silently, he got cleaned up and changed and then stood, watching her through the open doors.

  She’d opened the wine. Hadn’t needed his help at all. Of course she didn’t—she was a bartender. And she’d found the kitchenette, where Darna had undoubtedly had all the food arranged in containers that kept it warm.

  Robert wasn’t sure how long he stood there, watching Jeannie through the doorway. She looked...the same. Beautiful, but the same.

  He envied her that.

  It wasn’t until she went to refill her wineglass that he moved. He stepped out onto the terrace. “Here,” he said, his voice gruff but unable to do anything about it.

  She didn’t seem surprised when he appeared, nor when he pulled the bottle out of her hand. “I know how to pour wine,” she scolded, but at least there was no acid in her voice. He dared to hope she sounded amused.