Under Control

by Zoë Normandie

  Danica moaned, tilting her head back. She didn’t believe a single word he said, but it didn’t matter what she believed. It only mattered what he did—and if he believed he couldn’t feel, then he wouldn’t.

  And though the concern rattled through her mind, she was taken from the thought as he played with her clit so skillfully that it sent incredible shudders up her body. As she squirmed, feeling the pressure rising, he slipped his other hand behind her back to hold her steady—to keep her down.

  She was that much closer to coming, since he’d teased it out of her the night prior. Everything felt so sensitive as he touched her.

  “I need you,” she breathed, the only words she could cough out as he fingered her harder and faster. “Just fuck me, Carrick. Let’s get this over with.”

  He laughed, obviously enjoying how she begged and making her wait.

  “Let’s get this over with?” He laughed and scooped her naked body up in his arms as he stood up from the chair. “That’s not what I want to hear.”

  He laid her in the middle of the couch and let his black jeans slide off, hitting the floor. With only his boxers on, his hardened cock was punching through. It was just too big to be held in.

  He pushed her legs back and moved them apart, finding her throbbing pussy. Again, he pressed his fingers up her wet core and removed them to taste her. She squirmed with the tender soreness—but he handled her gently, with care, seeming to know exactly how she felt.

  “Fucking delicious,” he groaned as he licked her juice off the length of his finger. “Sweetest pussy I’ve ever had.”

  Before she could dream of asking how many that was, she rolled her head back in pleasure once again as he licked her all the way up to her clit. He rolled the sensitive nub with his tongue, lapping all the wetness that continued to pour out of her. He’s so damn good at that.

  There were reasons why he was so persuasive.

  Danica’s orgasm was mounting again as he licked until her legs shook and her hips threatened to leave the couch entirely. He held her hips down and laughed as she moaned, probably realizing how close she was.

  “I could make you come all day long, and you think marrying me would be so bad?”

  The agony of her swelling orgasm grew unmanageable.

  “Carrick, please don’t do this to me,” Danica begged. “Just fuck me.”

  “I don’t believe you really want my cock.” He moved his head to roll her clit.

  “I do,” she moaned, digging her head into the couch as he rolled faster and faster on her clit, sending electric shocks throughout her body. “I really, really do.”

  Her pussy tightened and she screamed. She was so fucking close.

  “I don’t believe you,” he teased.

  She tried to protest, telling him to fuck off—but she couldn’t.

  As she screamed out his name, he grinned and continued eating her out. Finally, he ran his fingers up her pussy again, finding that certain spot that was her undoing. Her orgasm pounded to the surface and wetness poured out everywhere, dripping down her ass.

  Letting his words sink in that he’d promised her a great life, she grew still for a moment then she flipped open her eyes, watching the gorgeous man at the foot of the couch stroking his long, rigid cock with his hand.

  What’s he going to do to me now?

  “Close your eyes,” he demanded, and she obeyed immediately, knowing what would happen if she didn’t.

  Within seconds, she felt something like a rope being tied around her wrists, and her body lifted. Her eyes opened and he noticed.

  “I told you to keep them closed. What is it going to take for you to learn who is in charge?”

  Turning her against the back of the couch in a kneeling position, he gently bent her over, pressing her head down to rest on the fabric. She grasped the back of the couch to steady herself as best she could with her bound hands. It was as though she was his prisoner. Then he brought her ass up to meet his cock, and she moaned with the realization that he was about to fuck her from behind.

  “Could you do this without emotion?” He brushed his cockhead at the opening of her aching core.

  I need him to fill me up.

  “That wasn’t an answer.” He ran his cock up and down her wet slit, threatening to never thrust it inside her. It was blackmail, and she fucking knew it.

  “I don’t know,” Danica cried, her legs trembling. She bit her lip, closed her eyes then became aware of his cock gently entering her pussy from behind.

  “This is all I’ll ever give you, Danica.” His voice grew dark and serious. “Tell me this is enough for you.”

  She moaned a non-answer again, trying to push onto his cock. That only encouraged him as he reached forward to grip her mass of hair, drawing her head back. The way he touched her—dominant, controlling—was so fucking hot.

  Because he knew she wanted it. He knew she wanted him to take care of her.

  He knows how much I want him.

  Pulling her long locks back, he leaned down to whisper in her ear as he pushed all the way up her wet pussy.

  “Be good and I’ll reward you.”

  He entered her as she gasped. It was a wicked feeling to be filled completely by a hot, hard cock, feeling every inch of her pussy’s walls tightening around him.

  He groaned in response but continued speaking, “You’ll do what I want, when I want, and I’ll take care of you, protect you. I’ll save you.” The last words seemed to escape his mouth with less force, revealing more than he’d likely intended.

  “Oh my God! I’m so close, Carrick,” she squealed.

  A savage noise escaped his throat in response, and he quickened his pace. Moving in and out of her, he found a new rhythm that drew shocks from her—harder, faster, rougher. He wrapped his hand around her hair, like a handle, while he used his other hand to spank her ass. Just when she couldn’t take it anymore, her orgasm finally burst down her legs, drowning his thick cock in her juices.

  “Come inside me,” she cried out through the lingering orgasmic feeling.

  “Fuck, Dani.” He tightened his grip on her, shooting pain up her side, and she expected that bruises would be forthcoming.

  But I don’t care.

  All she cared about was how he was sliding up into her, pounding her, fucking her better than she’d ever hoped for. The carnal roars escaping his chest told her that he was going to come—and he was going to come hard.

  “I think I’m falling for you,” she suddenly confessed, drunk in the moment.

  He gasped in response, and there was an explosion of his seed inside her. He panted, trying to catch his breath, as he stood over her, his grip on her hair growing more affectionate. He ran his rough hand down her long hair, down her back, cupping and caressing her ass with care.

  I’m his now.

  Finally, she looked over her shoulder at him. He locked eyes with her, and the room grew silent, except for his inhalation. Sobering once again, all Danica could think about was her passionate confession.

  Did he hear it?

  She hoped he hadn’t.

  Because it was true.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Danica

  A deep heat crossed Danica’s cheeks as she took in the meaning of her confession. She ripped her gaze away from him, mortified, yet still desperate to know if he had heard her.

  If he heard me, I’ve played my final cards.

  Carrick was already getting to work, untying her hands and turning her around to face him. Pulling her up into his arms, he planted one delicious kiss on her mouth. When he did, she tasted her own sex and cum, making her ache for him that much more. The way he kissed her felt different from before, but she couldn’t figure out why.

  He lowered his hand to her sopping wet opening and checked her. She winced as he did. Immediately, she sensed the change in him. It hurt, and he seemed to want to take care of her.

  Carrick stepped back from the couch, holding her in his arms. Without hesit
ation, he took to the staircase, two steps at a time, and brought her to a large bathroom located on the third floor, at the front of the house. Exquisitely decorated like the rest of his home, the bathroom had the vibe of a nature spa. It was elegant, feminine—and the opposite of what she expected his style to be. It just seemed so unlike him. Expensive-looking flooring in a reclaimed wood style complemented a glittering granite countertop that was framed by ‘his and hers’ sinks. Of course, only his side of the sink was in obvious use.

  Carrick carried her farther in and stopped at the big soaker tub that could easily fit two. He set her on the side of the tub and started drawing the water, hot and steamy. After pouring in Epsom salts and bubbles, he slid her glasses off, laying them on the counter. Then he placed her into the tub, leaving only the soft lights on above the sink as mood lighting. As she got comfortable in the soaker, she observed the artwork that hung on the walls—tropical, floral designs. That was when she knew… There is no way Carrick selected those pieces.

  The former SEAL found his way into the tub behind her, holding her tight against his chest as he massaged her shoulders. His actions were caring and romantic…yet also very dangerous.

  I need to stop this.

  She should get out of the tub before she allowed herself to fall for him any further. But it was just too damn hard. Leaning back on his hard chest, she felt protected…safe. He was giving her everything to make her believe that this was real.

  But he made it clear that it’s not.

  He massaged her slowly and she groaned with the pleasure of his grinding knuckles working out her muscle knots. Wrapped in his arms, his rough hands working up and down on her, she could almost slip into a coma. Never before had she experienced so much pleasure at one time. She just wished it could last longer than the few nights they had. She wasn’t going to marry him. That was the most dangerous proposition of all. She needed more than just the physical side of him, but he’d made it perfectly clear that it was all she’d ever get from him.

  “You’re tense.” He grumbled into her ear, driving those familiar shocks of arousal through her core. “Have I been too rough?”

  He has no idea.

  “Oh, that feels amazing. Thank you,” she whispered back as he massaged her, moving his hands down her shoulders and over her chest.

  “It’s nothing.”

  She smirked. “You can never accept gratitude, can you?”

  He kept working her, moving down over her breasts. “I don’t like how it feels.”

  She turned slightly, looking up at his handsome face. “To be thanked?”

  He shrugged, and though he’d refused to respond, she wondered why Carrick hated being admired or focused on.

  At some point, Danica realized that she was starting to nod off in the tub.

  In a haze, she went to get up, and he pulled her back down to him. “Going somewhere?”

  She grinned in delight. “What time is it?”

  “Bedtime.” He wrapped his arms around her, stood then carried her out of the tub. Afterward, he grabbed soft towels to dry her off. “I’ve got a lot on the docket tomorrow.”

  Taking her by the hand, he led her into his dark bedroom, the silence broken only by the ambient sounds of the ocean in the distance. She guessed it was really late. The entire day had slipped by in a haze of anxiety, punctuated by tremendous pleasure—the latter masking the former.

  She collapsed on the bed, unbelievably drained. As she curled into the blanket, he climbed in behind her, holding her to his chest as they lay together.

  He tightened his arms, breathing down her neck. “What do you want in life, Dani? If you could have anything you wanted.”

  Her eyes shut, she confessed, “I’ve always dreamed of having my own tiny little art gallery, selling my work and supporting other local artists.”

  With that admission, she knew she was done for. He would never respect her. She was just a childish dreamer.

  “That’s different from nursing.” He was slow to respond.

  She bit her lip, knowing he’d see this as worse than being a vegan. Feeling defensive, she justified herself by saying, “Nursing was a smart choice—a way to get a paying job. And I like taking care of people. I don’t have the money or the connections to open a gallery and sell art. It’s just a silly dream.”

  But his response was surprising. “Interesting… I appreciate dreams. They gives you depth.”

  She was taken aback at the reception, the lack of criticism. “I thought you’d find my dreams juvenile.”

  “I’ve always been a dreamer.”

  “Really?”

  “Once, I dreamed of getting into the SEALs,” he explained. “Do you know how hard I had to work? All the way through the Navy—from scrubbing the bowels of a warship to finally getting a place in Special Forces, one of the most elite teams in the world. Damn, it was a fucking journey.”

  “Your dreams made sense, though. Mine are unattainable.”

  Carrick let out a low laugh. “Not at all. You are very talented. You should have a gallery and your art should be featured there. Maybe it will happen one day.”

  She almost gasped in disbelief. That was the most he’d ever said about himself, and it was the nicest thing he’d ever said to her. Coming from him, it meant the world.

  Is this progress?

  When he moved his hand down her body to find hers, wrapping his fingers around it, she had no choice but to let herself sink into him. He held her against him tightly, kissing her hair affectionately.

  In a sleepy grumble, he finally said, “Never give up on your dreams, Dani.”

  Finding her eyes fluttering shut again, Danica let out, “I dream of real love, of the white picket fence, the kids—someone who loves me like I love them…” But her mumbling trailed off, her mind growing hazy. “Someone to share coffee with every morning, share life with…”

  The last thing she remembered was him tightening his arms around her. He didn’t say anything in response, but she was sure his heart was beating a little bit faster.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Danica

  The muffled sounds of male voices woke Danica from a deep sleep. At one point, someone had drawn the curtains on the glass sliding door, leaving the bedroom a dark, warm cocoon. A little fuzzy, she blinked a few times, trying to focus and realizing that she had no idea where she was.

  Until she knew exactly where she was.

  Carrick wasn’t alone in the living room, and immediately she was anxious as hell. She raised her hands to her naked chest and hugged the sheets tighter. Her swollen, sore pussy reminded her just how much trouble she’d gotten into the night before—and with whom…again.

  Why do I keep giving myself to him?

  Lobbing her feet off the bed, she tiptoed to the master bathroom. Memories from the night before began pouring into her hungover, aching head as she eyed the tub. That bath… It had been the most intimate moment she’d ever had with him—or anyone.

  Picking up a toothbrush that had been set on the unoccupied side of the granite counter, she found everything she needed to clean herself. After drying her face with the softest white towel she’d ever used in her life, Danica threw on a plush robe that was obviously cut for a man. She tied the robe as she looked into the mirror, trying to figure out if she was presentable. Her hair was voluminous—if not complete sex hair. Her lips were plump from all the rough, passionate kissing.

  That was when she decided she would be better off just staying in the bedroom, waiting it out. She had no idea who he was down there talking with, and though she was damn curious, she was also apprehensive. Carrick hadn’t exactly been one to show his cards, and she had no idea what the man had up his sleeve.

  She returned to the bedroom and found her cell phone on the top of his dresser. She had a missed text from Addie.

  Wellness check—still alive?

  I’m present.

  She didn’t want to be melodramatic, but her mind was racing wi
th another sex hangover.

  Addie immediately responded.

  That doesn’t sound good. Just come home. We can move somewhere else together.

  Danica smiled, knowing their friendship bond was deeply powerful. But her smile slowly dissipated as she acknowledged what she’d been feeling for a while—that she was a burden on Addie’s life. Eventually, Addie needed to move on from having a needy, runaway roommate. What would happen when Addie fell in love?

  He asked me to marry him.

  Oh my God, he’s in love with you!

  No, he’s not. He wants a marriage of convenience…to protect me, to save me.

  Well, that’s fucking bullshit. Look… I’m starting my shift, but I can be late if you want to have a call.

  No, I’m all right. I’m not dragging down your life anymore.

  You aren’t, but okay. Call me at lunch.

  Danica edged her teeth along her lower lip, worrying about how she was impacting her friend. Putting her cell down, she heard the voices growing heated downstairs. Clutching the robe shut, she put her ear to the closed bedroom door, trying to gain clues.

  Who’s there?

  Unfortunately, she hadn’t quite learned her lesson yet. Carrick was a former Navy SEAL—as in, Black Ops, on top of his game.

  And she was no match for him.

  With her ear up to the door, she bounced back as it opened swiftly. Carrick shot his dark-blue gaze down on her as he loomed in the space.

  “Hi,” she whispered.

  “Morning.” He nodded, cool and collected, and motioned for her to join the living space. “Coffee?”

  Danica swallowed a lump in her throat as she gazed up at him—his steely face, his kissable lips…yet his lack of emotion.

  “Come on,” he said, turning to leave.

  Danica, like a little lamb, followed her wolf down the hardwood stairs, entering the great room. A man she recognized sat at the edge of the living room in the chair, his hands clasped together with a serious look on his face.