Bind (17 page)

“A finger inside you? Two? Three? Forcing your cunt wider, letting me feel your G-spot?”

Lara pursed her lips to hold back a whimper. Even the suggestion was enough to make her mad.

“Maybe one up your ass?”

All that. All of it.

He slapped her pussy, hard. She gasped, screamed, but no matter what, she stayed where she was, open, her arms behind her, available for his torment.

“I want your orgasm,” he ordered, words biting, as if sharpened by jagged glass. He slapped her again.

She screamed as she came.

“Gorgeous,” he approved, catching her body as she pitched forward. “In every way.”

“That…” Lara couldn’t think.

“Put your arms around me.”

She was only peripherally aware of doing what he said. As if it came from far away, she felt his soothing touch and absorbed his mumbled words of reassurance. He stroked her hair, then put a hand behind her head to hold her protectively against his chest.

There was nowhere she would rather be.

It took her a few minutes for her breathing to regain its normal pattern. The whole time, Connor held onto her. Part of her never wanted him to let go.

“I think I liked that,” she admitted. Eventually she pulled away. “When you first mentioned that you were going to slap me there—”

“On your cunt?”

“On my cunt,” she repeated somewhat hesitantly. “I wasn’t sure if I could take it. But it was amazing. You know, in future it may help me if you don’t tell me what you’re planning to do.” But she was greedy. Everything else he’d said, she wanted it, too. His words lingered and tantalized. Now that she’d discovered this side of sex, she was ravenous.

“It’s a balance,” he agreed. “To prepare you, let you know what to expect. But if you know something’s coming, your brain can supply the rest and fills in the blanks with fears.”

“I understand that.”

“Fear is one of the most powerful of all emotions. To conquer it is to succeed in life.”

“You’re sounding a bit like a philosopher.” Or a man who’d been through a big test. She put her hands on his chest and pushed back a little so she could look at his face. He believed what he was saying, clearly. “Do you tell yourself that every day?”

“It’s a mantra.”

“Fear can be useful,” she argued. “Without it, you can behave recklessly.”

“Indeed. That’s where discernment comes in. But it’s easy to let fear keep us stuck where we are.”

“Sometimes the boogeyman really is out there,” she replied.

“Most times he’s in your head. Take the last scene, for example. In just a few seconds, you built it up to be something worse than the experience actually was. In fact, you could have said no and not had that shattering orgasm.”

And the after-effects still lingered.

“Let’s get you to my house.”

She nodded.

He stood and helped her up.

“I should take a quick shower.”

“Do you have a handheld showerhead?”

“Don’t get any ideas. I’ll be right back.”

He picked up her clothes and didn’t offer them to her. “Show me the way.”

His jaw was set, meaning that any argument would be futile. She sighed. Another thing she could learn from. The man didn’t waste time with disagreements. He just asserted his will until it became a force in and of itself.

Connor followed her as she walked toward the back of the house and into her bedroom. Being naked was beginning to feel more normal, but it was still a bit startling to know he was behind, watching her.

He deposited her clothing on the bed. “Through there?”

She nodded, and he led the way into the small master bathroom. Since the house was older, it had been an addition. Her space wasn’t luxurious, like his.

Maybe moving into his home would be better. She’d miss her neighbors and the backyard, but the soaker tub was an enticing trade-off.

He moved the shower curtain aside and reached into the stall to turn on the water. A few seconds later he said, “In with you.”

She moved past him. “You’re going to get wet.”

“I’ll worry about that.”

Connor directed the gentle spray just below her breasts.

“Soap?”

She grabbed the tiny bar and made a lather.

“What’s the scent?”

“Magnolia,” she said, returning the sliver to the wire rack.

“Haunting,” he said. “And now it will be on my sheets.”

The idea that he intended to sleep with her took their relationship to a new level of intimacy.

He watched her run the lather across her torso, then lower. As she washed, he rinsed. He took care not to wet her hair or ruin her makeup more than she already had.

“Grab the soap again.”

She picked it up and held it while he ran his fingers across it and slid off a small amount. “Done?” At his nod, she replaced it.

“Now turn around.” He washed and rinsed her back and buttocks. “There’s no indication that I spanked you.” He trailed his fingers lower. “Maybe this tiny mark from the single tail?” He pushed on her buttock.

“I don’t feel anything,” she admitted. This morning, she’d looked at her rear in a full-length mirror. She hadn’t seen anything. She’d never tell him that she’d been slightly disappointed.

He took his time, slowly moving across her skin.

“This isn’t what I thought of when you mentioned Dominance and submission.” She rolled her head from side to side as she enjoyed the feel of his hands on her.

“Every relationship is unique. I enjoy caring for you. I do it as much for myself as I do for you.” He rinsed her off. “Now let’s make sure your pussy is clean.”

She turned to face him and she spread her legs without argument.

“Part your labia.”

The man was a torment. He directed the water near her clit then moved his hand away. He repeated his action a couple more times and arousal began to churn inside her. “Connor!”

“Hmm?”

“It’s…” This seemed impossible. But because her skin was so tender from his sharp slap, even the small amount of water had her on edge. She’d never thought of herself as particularly orgasmic, but he was proving she was.

Abruptly, he moved the showerhead.

She felt like a rubber band that had been stretched too far then pinned there. He couldn’t seriously be planning to stop there? “I want…”

He met her gaze. “I know. I know exactly what you want.”

“And you won’t let me climax? Are you serious?”

“Think of how much more intense it will be later when I let you come.”

She bit her lower lip in frustration. “You’re not showing any remorse.”

“Or feeling the slightest bit of guilt.”

His quick grin was wicked, toe-curling.

She tried one more tactic. “This seems really cruel.”

“Cruel is a harsh description.”

“Try feeling what’s going on inside me.”

“That much, little Lara, I do know,” he assured her.

Probably true. But the man had been skillful. She wanted an orgasm. And she wanted him. Last night, before she’d fallen asleep, she’d thought about that. She’d wondered why they hadn’t had sex. She was certain it wasn’t because he wasn’t attracted to her. No doubt, he was. She’d already noted how controlled he was, and maybe this was another extension of it.

After he’d made sure all the soap was gone, he turned off the faucet. She shucked the water from her skin while he grabbed a towel from the rack.

He offered it and she wrapped it around herself.

Stunning her, he leaned forward and kissed her shoulder.

“You smell delectable.”

“It’s the soap.”

“It’s you. That scent wouldn’t be the same on anyone else.”

He followed her to the bedroom, and he made himself comfortable on a small wooden chair while she dried off and re-dressed.

She tried to ignore him while she concentrated on what she was doing, but it was difficult. Even when he was silent, he was an enigmatic force.

Finally ready, she said, “Let’s go.”

He picked up her towel from the floor.

“I’m afraid you’ve discovered that I can be somewhat messy in the bedroom.” She hoped he didn’t look in the closet. Instead of tidying it, she’d moved a pair of discarded jeans so that she could close the door. As for the bed, she’d assumed that he’d want to see the house, so she’d made it for a change, even grabbing the throw pillows from her office. “I’m organized at work and with most things. I think this is the one place I forget about my responsibilities.”

“Among your many charms.”

“As neat as you are, I’d be surprised if it doesn’t drive you crazy.”

“I wouldn’t let it. If we need a rake to dig out your side of the closet, we’ll get a rake.”

She didn’t respond. No matter what she said or didn’t say, he kept making plans for their future.

He turned off the light and overhead fan and followed her from the room. As they passed the kitchen, she snatched up her abandoned coffee cup.

“I could get you a fresh one,” he said.

“This will do.”

Near the front door, Lara slipped back into her shoes and grabbed her purse while he collected her overnight bag.

“Tell me you put soap in there.”

“I have a travel size, yes.”

“We’ll order you a box of them for my house.”

He opened the door then waited while she locked the deadbolt.

Lara followed Connor down the path. He opened the car door for her and helped her inside. After stowing the bag in the trunk, he slid in beside her. It seemed natural to be together.

As they drove across town, he turned the conversation toward business then their potential marriage.

“Tell me how you see this unfolding,” he invited. Then, before she could remind him it might not happen, he added, “Assuming we’re able to work out an agreement.”

“I’d need to tell my dad, obviously. But I’m not sure if I should do it before or after the wedding.” The word made her tummy jump. Ignoring the reaction, she took a drink of the coffee and continued. “I’d suggest we hold an emergency board meeting. I’m sure my mother would back the request. If needed, we can contact the individual members. I don’t necessarily expect him to like it, and it’s certainly possible that he’d do something, anything to block your seat. But there’s really no way around that.” The idea of being at odds with her father like that made her heart ache. But she recalled him trying to get her to take medication when she was ill as a child, insisting it was for her own good. In a way, she supposed, the roles were reversed now. The knowledge didn’t make the idea any more palatable.

“It would definitely be good for me to meet your mother,” he said, repeating his words from yesterday.

“She texted this morning, asking how I was doing. Then she sent another one. She’s part of a ladies’ group. They call themselves the Friday Afternoon Soirée. They get together and do things like getting facials, going shopping, meet for happy hour. She managed to get your mother’s phone number from a mutual friend and plans to invite her to join the group.”

“How did that transpire?”

“We had lunch yesterday and I mentioned the fact I’d seen Erin. Since my mother’s in charge of outreach, she’s always looking for fresh blood. Er, I mean, new members.”

He grinned.

“And if your mom mentions we’re going to be getting married… Especially if she knows it’s a sham and my mother doesn’t—”

“Sham?”

His tone chilled her. “That’s what it would be.”

“It’s an arrangement.”

“Really, Connor, I’m not sure why you’re objecting to the term,” she said, turning to face him.

“While we’re married, we’ll be married. I take all my commitments seriously.”

“You’re splitting hairs,” she told him.

“If you think anything about the time we’re together will be inherently dishonest, you’re wrong.”

Traffic ground to a temporary stop, and he looked at her. To distract herself, she took another drink of coffee. And she ignored the way her hand trembled. Instead of responding to his statement, she said, “I won’t call it a sham again.”

The car ahead of them began to move again. “See that you don’t.” He eased into first gear.

She sat back. At times, his rigid responses caught her off guard. She’d seen the softer side of him with his brother, interacting with Thompson, with Mrs. Fuhrman, even Suzy-Q. But she knew better than to think that was the real him. Connor’s spine was made of steel, and it seemed he never bent.

All too soon, they arrived at the parking garage.

He grabbed her bag from the trunk. Instead of waiting for him to come around to her side of the car, she climbed out, headed for the trash can to discard her empty cup then met him at the elevator.

The car had already arrived, and he was holding it open, waiting for her.

Everything he did spoke of control. She realized that, even if he was angry, he wouldn’t show it. He was a difficult man to read.

She moved past him and stood at the back of the elevator. When the doors closed, she said, “I’ll choose my words with more care in the future.”

“It’s over. Forgotten.”

“Is that it?” She searched his features. “Are you that able to compartmentalize?”

“Yes. I rarely take anything personally. When it comes to you, doubly so. We’ll get along much better through the years if we don’t harbor resentment. Do you agree?”

“That’s a great theory,” she replied. “I’m afraid I’m a little more likely to hold onto things, though. It can take me a while to think things through and move on. I should probably try to be more like you.”

He swept his gaze over her. “Don’t change a single thing.”

In response to his perusal, his words, her thought process slowed.

The elevator dinged, signaling that they’d reached his floor. The ride had been less than a minute, and in just that small amount of time, he’d managed to take an awkward-feeling situation and turn it around in a way that made her feel really good about herself.

She reminded herself that she’d never had much luck in the love area, and when she did commit, it would be to a man who was more spontaneous, less emotionally distant, a man capable of giving as much as she was.

Once they were inside his loft, he said, “Feel free to make yourself comfortable. The built-in drawers on your side of the closet are empty. You’ll find empty drawers and cupboards in the bathroom for your toiletries. We’ll take the weekend to figure out whose house we’ll live in. Can I pour you a glass of wine?”