Tease Me: A Stark International Security Novel

by J. Kenner

  She deserved sweet kisses and soft caresses. And he wanted to show her how much he loved her. How much he cherished her.

  She was his life, his love, and he’d brought her pain today. Not intentionally, but that didn’t matter. Tonight, he was going to hold back on his urge to claim her.

  Tonight, he was simply going to make love to his wife.

  Chapter Ten

  “With me,” Ryan says as he stands, holding out a hand for me. I take it and follow, eager for whatever he has in mind. He pauses at the foot of the bed, then lets his gaze roam over me. He comes closer, then takes the hem of my T-shirt and starts to pull it up. “You, Kitten, are wearing far too many clothes.”

  “No argument from me,” I say, my finger going to the buttons on my jeans. I shimmy out of them, taking my panties too. Then I kick them free of my feet and stand there, hyperaware of my body as I wait for Ryan to tell me what to do.

  “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he says, then urges me onto the bed with him. I follow, then suck in air as his tongue teases my nipple before he closes his mouth over my breast and gently sucks while his fingertips caress the curve of my waist.

  It’s sweet and loving and tender—and it’s not at all what I want.

  I squirm a little, hoping he’ll slide his hand down to my cunt and finger fuck me hard or tease my ass or even bite my nipple. I want to feel electricity tingle inside me. I want to be on fire.

  I want him to do every dirty thing we’ve ever done and then some. Because as wonderful as making love with my husband can be, right now, I need to be taken. Fucked.

  I need to be owned, and while I know I should just tell Ryan that, what I want is for him to know it. To understand me the way that he always has before.

  I know why I want it—other than the fact that I will always, eagerly submit to Ryan. But this is more than that. I get that it’s because of Felicia. I know that some part of me is fighting in protest against the thought that there’s ever been another woman, much less a wife.

  His hands still roam my body, and he claims my mouth in a gentle kiss. It’s tender, loving, and I moan with genuine pleasure as his lips trail kisses down my neck. I’m turned on—hell, yes, I am—but I want more. Need more. And I pull gently away and meet his eyes.

  For a moment, we only look at each other. Then I feel something shift. A change in the air. In the temperature of the room. There’s heat now. Electricity.

  “Hunter,” I say, but he interrupts me.

  “No. I talk. You do what I say. Understood?”

  God, yes. I almost come right then. Instead, I say, very clearly, “Yes, Sir.”

  I’m practically giddy with relief. He knows. Somehow he always knows exactly what I need.

  He gets off the bed, leaving me on the mattress. He’s still in his suit, and now he takes his jacket off along with his tie. He tosses the jacket over a chair, but the tie he keeps in his hands. “Lean back, Kitten. Hands on the mattress. That’s my girl,” he says when I comply. “Now spread your knees and put the soles of your feet together.”

  I do, feeling the incredible stretch in my inner thighs. And the heat of my pussy, fully exposed to him.

  “Beautiful,” he murmurs. “And wet,” he adds, easily sliding two fingers into me as if to prove the point.

  “What toys did you bring?” he asks, and my whole body responds from nothing more than the tone in his voice.

  “I—toys?”

  He chuckles, then slides me closer to the end of the mattress so that my toes are just peeking over.

  “Toys,” he repeats, getting on his knees, then tugging me forward until my cunt is right over his mouth. His tongue laves me as his hands hold my thighs open, keeping me firmly in place.

  “I know you, Kitten,” he whispers between lashes of his tongue. “Tell me where they are and I’ll look for myself.”

  “Don’t you have any here?”

  “For all the other women I fuck?” He kisses the inside of my thighs, the stubble of his beard on my sensitive skin feeling amazing. “Is that what you’re telling me? Do you want to watch me touch another woman?”

  I shake my head. “No.” There was a time when watching a guy with another woman would have turned me on. But not now. Not with Ryan. With him, I don’t share. “Never,” I say.

  It occurs to me that if he really wants to push the envelope—wants to prove just how thoroughly he owns me—he could bring in another man to fuck me while he watches. “You don’t…?”

  “I don’t,” Ryan says, obviously reading my mind. “But what humbles me is knowing that you would if I wanted it. Wouldn’t you?”

  I nod. Because God help me, if that’s what he wanted, I would. But I don’t want to. I don’t want anyone’s touch but Ryan’s.

  “Good girl.” He rewards me with a kiss, and his fingers slide inside me. Greedily, I hump his hand, feeling like I truly have been a good girl, but all too soon he pulls his fingers free, leaving me hot and needy and longing to be fucked, teased, spanked, everything. Right now, I’m nothing but need, and I want to melt into Ryan’s arms and let him use me to satisfy every one of his wicked cravings.

  “Come on, Kitten. Tell me. Where are they?”

  “Pink rolling bag,” I concede, shooting him a grimace when he chuckles.

  He takes the tie that he’s been holding and secures it over my eyes. I consider telling him I have a blindfold in the bag but decide I should keep my mouth closed. Then he tells me to stand.

  I comply, of course, my legs slightly apart, just like he ordered, and my arms at my sides.

  “Now wait,” he says, and soon I hear the familiar sound of the suitcase’s zipper and the shifting of my various packing cubes until, finally, he returns.

  “Eyes stay closed,” he says, his fingers gently stroking my left nipple, then squeezing so hard I gasp. Then I gasp again when his fingers are replaced by metal nipple clamps. “Lovely idea,” he says once he’s clamped both my nipples. “Can you feel it, Kitten? The sensation spreading all the way from your tits to that gorgeous pussy?”

  I nod.

  “Tell me what it feels like.”

  “Electricity. Heat. Like a live wire burning inside me. It makes me want more. Everything.”

  “Everything?”

  “I want to be touched. I want to be fucked. Hunter, please.”

  “Soon. Turn around, then walk two steps. You’ll hit the bed.”

  I do, and he’s right.

  “Now bend over so that you’re right up against the mattress. I want your pretty pussy rubbing the spread every time I spank you.” I comply, and since the bed is tall, I’m essentially bent over at the waist in a perfect right angle.

  My core clenches, my body so close to exploding I’m sure I would come if he just kept talking. He’s going to spank me, of course, and my senses are on overdrive in anticipation of Hunter’s touch.

  “Christ that’s lovely. Do you know how hard it makes me seeing you bent over like that? Waiting for me to take you? To fuck you? Do you know how much you humble me, Kitten? Have you got any idea what it means to me knowing that you’ll give yourself this way? Knowing that you belong to me?”

  “Always,” I say. “I’m yours, Hunter. You know I am.”

  “I do,” he says, gently rubbing the swell of my ass. “It’s the greatest miracle of my life, finding you. Loving you. Claiming you.”

  “Claim me now,” I whisper. “I love you, too, but right now, please, just fuck me hard.”

  He chuckles. “That’s my Kitten,” he says, and his words are followed almost immediately by a sharp, unexpected smack to my ass.

  I gasp at the red-hot sensation, then sigh with pleasure as it seems to spread out, the tingling redness, the naughty sting. It’s a special kind of claiming, I think. He’s marking me, and I’m giving myself to him.

  Gently, he rubs over the sore area until the pain has faded to a dull ache. Then he issues another demand. “Spread your legs,” he orders, and though I want him to
slip his fingers between my thighs and caress my pussy, he doesn’t. Instead he says, “There’s only you, Kitten. There’s only ever been you. And for the record, I will kill any man who touches you. So, no. There will be no sharing of my wife.”

  “Thank goodness,” I say, then yelp as another smack lands on my ass, making my cunt clench in pleasure. I want him inside me desperately, but mostly I’m just happy that he’s claiming me.

  One more smack, and my body jolts on the bed, the combination of the sting and the tug on the clamps as my body moves making my skin tingle with a wild desire. Then I start to melt when his hand soothes the sting before sliding once again between my legs. I’m incredibly wet, and this time, he takes full advantage, thrusting his fingers deep inside me. His body arches over mine, his slacks rubbing my ass as his tongue teases my ear. “Do you want me to fuck you?”

  “Yes. God, yes.”

  “Not just yet.” Instead, I hear him move to get something else. A moment later, he’s back, stroking my ass, and then I feel the cool, slick lube followed by the pressure of the bulbous head of a butt plug. I relax, giving in to the spectacular sensation of the glass bulb filling me.

  He sucks in a sharp breath. “I love this ass. One of the few perfect asses in the world, I think. And so very pretty with this little pink flower.” He presses down on the plug, and I moan with pleasure. Then, without warning, he spanks me again, and the impact on my ass coupled with the pressure of the plug is so fucking extraordinary I actually cry out, my whole body shaking. Moisture slides down my thighs, and all I want—all I want—is Ryan’s cock inside me.

  “Please,” I beg, my whole being lost in a sensual haze.

  He says nothing but soothes the spot, then finger fucks me, moving in and out with such intensity that I imagine it’s his cock pounding me toward heaven, and I hear myself crying, “yes, yes,” from the intense pleasure of it all.

  I’m just about to beg again when I feel him behind me. The brush of material from his slacks. The hard heat of his cock. I bite my lower lip, relishing this. Knowing that he’s still dressed and I’m not only naked but blindfolded and plugged.

  I’m his. I belong to him. His wife. His lover. His everything.

  When he thrusts his cock inside me, I cry out his name, letting myself get lost in the sensation of being completely filled and thoroughly fucked.

  My tits and clit are rubbing the bedspread as Ryan’s cock does a number on that sweet spot deep inside me. I’d love to just stay like this forever, but I don’t even own my own pleasure anymore. I’ve handed it over to Ryan, and he’s toying with me. Taking me higher and higher only to pull back until finally I feel the tremor in his body and I know that his release is close. And as he starts to shatter, he whispers one last demand of me.

  “Come,” he says.

  And God help me, my body obeys, bursting apart at the seams in an explosion of pleasure and sensation, lust and love, hope and happiness.

  And Ryan, I think as I fall back to earth, sucked down by an overwhelming need for sleep.

  Always, Ryan.

  Chapter Eleven

  I wake sated and happy, my body pressed close to Ryan’s. For a moment, I simply lie there soaking up his comfort, feeling warm and loved and safe.

  Safe.

  Reality hits me, and I scramble across the ocean of a bed for my side table. Beside me, Ryan mumbles something unintelligible, then rolls over, hogging the covers as usual.

  I grab my phone, hoping Gabby’s reply from last night is waiting for me, but there’s nothing in my texts except for one from Nikki reminding me to call and tell her how The Plan fared. Too bad I promised Ryan not to say anything to her.

  “Did she text?” Ryan asks, and I roll back over to find him watching me, looking sleepily sexy. I shake my head, then reach out to rub my palm over his jaw, now more stubbly than it was last night when it rubbed provocatively against my inner thigh.

  “Mmm,” I say, and see a corresponding hunger in his eyes. “Can we pretend it’s still night and stay in bed?”

  “Kitten, I don’t need the night as an excuse with you. But,” he adds, taking my hand from his cheek so that he can kiss my palm, “I should check my phones, too. And make sure there’s nothing that needs my immediate attention at work. Then I should probably pay a visit to her family.”

  “Her dad? He’s the one who hired you to go get her, right?”

  “He’s passed away,” Ryan tells me. “But she has an uncle. I want to feel him out. See if she’s been in contact with him.”

  “If she hasn’t, are you going to tell him that she might be back?”

  He shakes his head. “No. Why get his hopes up? But he needs to know there’s someone out there claiming to be her. If it’s really Felicia, he’ll learn soon enough.”

  “Makes sense,” I say, sliding off the bed to head into the bathroom. When I come back out, he’s already dressed, and I pout. “That’s what I get for letting you shower last night. Think of the morning we could have had.”

  “I’m already thinking of it,” he says, with that rough edge to his voice that I know so well. The one that makes my pussy purr.

  I bite my lip and take a step toward him, still totally naked. “What are you thinking?”

  He reaches out, his thumbs and forefingers closing over both my still-tender nipples, tight enough that I wince as I settle into the pain.

  “You like that,” he says as he tugs me toward him, and sparks ricochet inside me.

  “Yes,” I say, now only inches from him and glowing in anticipation.

  “So do I.” He releases me, then uses one fingertip to trace around my areola before snaking down lower. He pauses at my navel, then goes lower still, until his fingertip finds my clit, then slips between my slick folds.

  I bite down harder, forcing myself not to react. But when he raises that same finger to my lips and tells me to suck, I just about lose it. “Hunter, please.”

  That’s all I can manage. I’m lost in a forest of need, and he’s my only way out.

  “That’s my girl.” He nods toward the bed again. “There. Face down, arms and legs spread. Now.”

  I nod, then move obediently onto the bed, positioning myself as he asked—facedown and spread wide. I make a low, needy sound, then sigh with pleasure as the mattress shifts with his weight when he sits beside me, his hand on my back.

  “I want you like this when I get back,” he says, and I immediately stiffen. “Like this, and I’ll give you everything you want. Every pleasure imaginable, every delicious fantasy. I’ll make you come again and again,” he whispers, sliding his hand over my ass. “But it will be a reward for obeying me. For belonging to me.”

  “So tell me, Kitten,” he continues. “Will you wait like this? Will you do as I say? Will you wait like this?”

  “Yes,” I say, because this is Ryan, and he knows me. He understands that I need this time to calm down. To settle into myself.

  More than that, I know that he needs it, too. The knowledge that I’ll obey. That I’ll wait and think and drift and process. Because I will. And by doing so, when he returns, I’ll have earned every decadent thing that he’s promising.

  * * * *

  I’m not sure how long I stay like that, facedown on the bed, my legs spread and my body open and yearning. All I know is that the worry and fear that had been plaguing me begins to drift away. I know—I’ve always known—that Ryan loves me. That he wants me. And that there is no other woman but me for him.

  That certainty warms me, filling me with a desperate longing. I want to feel his large hands upon me. His breath on the back of my neck. The pressure of his body against my rear as he enters me from behind or fucks me in the ass.

  I shiver, and it’s only with a stern mental command that I manage to keep my hands spread as ordered. On the contrary, I’m having a hell of a time resisting the urge to let my fingertips trail along the duvet until I find the sensitive skin at my waist. I want to slide my fingers beneath my own bod
y and gently stroke my clit, letting the pressure build along with my fantasies.

  That, however, is forbidden. Ryan said so. And though he’s not here with me, I won’t disobey. At least, not in reality. In my fantasies, all bets are off, and I let my mind drift, imagining the feel of my own fingers on my body. Losing myself in the erotic pleasure of my pretend touch as I wait for the real strength of my husband’s hands.

  I’m not sure how long I stay like that, but I must have drifted off. Because I’m startled back to reality by the click of a lock and the light thump of footsteps on the plush carpet. I want to roll over and open my eyes. I want to see Ryan—tall and lean, his expression hard even as his blue eyes darken with passion—and yet that is against the rules, too.

  So I remain as I am. My eyes closed, but my body tingling. Aware. Waiting.

  I feel the shift of the bed, and though I’m expecting a gentle caress, I can’t deny the flood of warmth to my clit as something hard and flat smacks me once across the ass, leaving a sting and then a pleasant numbness. I feel a sharp twinge—like a pulled muscle in my glute—as I spread my legs wider, gnawing on my lower lip so that I won’t cry out or moan with pleasure. That, of course, is my part of this game.

  Then I feel the dance of fingertips over my lower back and up my spine. My hair, which these days reaches my shoulder blades, is brushed aside, and there is a gentle pressure as his hand cups my neck.

  There’s something odd about his touch, though I’m not sure what. I can’t wrap my mind around it, mostly because I can’t wrap my mind around anything. I’m floating now, my mind untethered. I feel as if I’ve drunk an entire bottle of wine after hiking ten miles. And I’m tired. So very, very tired…

  He’s not touching me now, but I know that he will soon, and I don’t want to drift off. And yet I can’t seem to hold on to reality. I can’t even open my eyes—I’m not supposed to; I know that. And yet I try. I have to. But it’s not possible. I’m too tired, to drained, too damn sleepy.

  And though I want to revel in the feel of Ryan’s touch, I simply don’t have the strength. Instead, I give in to the sweet pull of slumber and let the warm waves of dreams carry me away…