“Ugh… I may need another glass of wine.”
Joe chuckled. “That bad? Drink away. You are not driving. Frank is holding a full bottle with your name on it.”
“Oh, no. Did you have it opened just for me?”
Joe grasped her free wrist. “Why wouldn’t I?”
His question and motion happened simultaneously. She didn’t retort or fight his gentle grasp She couldn’t. His thumb rubbed and pressed the tender skin below the heel of her hand, sending delicious tingles up her arm.
“I… I won’t finish it.”
“That’s not a problem.” He tilted his head. “Frank will cork the bottle, and you can take it home. Think of me when you drink the last drop.” He moved back, releasing her hand. “Look. Food is here. You’re going to love these.”
Hunter’s tummy groaned with hunger. A new server delivered a platter of round raviolis in a light-brown sauce. A small mound of sautéed greens garnished the appetizer.
“These are osso buco raviolis. Try one.” He didn’t wait for a response. Grabbing her dish, he served a delicate pasta moon with a spoonful of sauce on top. “Tell me what you think.”
His enthusiasm was infectious, and Hunter was not a fussy eater, so she didn’t object to him taking over. Plus, the aroma emanating from her plate sent her salivary glands into overtime. She bit into one. Memories of Nana Marta, her father’s mom, cooking up a storm in her kitchen exploded in her mind—the sights, sounds, and flavors of Sunday afternoons. Happy images she’d buried in the attic of her brain. In hidden areas where the light never reached and she refused to visit.
“What’s wrong?” Joe’s voice pulled her back out.
“N-nothing. I’m fine.”
“You’re more than fine, Hunter.” His eyebrows gathered. “Just now, your eyes filled with tears. The raviolis are delicious, but that’s not enough to make a person cry. Are you going to tell me?”
Pursing her lips, she wiped away the betraying moisture. “Silly stuff, really.” Hunter half shrugged.
Joe put his fork down and sat back. She’d prefer he argued or bombarded her with a million questions. This silence was uncomfortable. His expression tightened. She read disappointment, and her unease increased. His displeasure reached her across the table, and she didn’t know how to stop it. She had to stop it and rewind to the previous scene.
Tell him. She fidgeted. Why won’t you speak?
“I…ah.” She breathed in, gathering courage. As if he knew her struggle, he grasped her wrist. She closed her eyes as his warmth seeped past her skin and into her body. She felt whole, protected. His touch restored balance.
“The flavor took me back in time, to my Nana’s home. She was a cook like no other.”
“Happy times,” he murmured.
“Yes.” She nodded. “When I was young and silly.”
“Hmmm.” He tightened the hold on her wrist. “I don’t like that. Besides, keep saying those nasty things about yourself, you’ll end up believing them.”
“So people say.” She sniffed.
“This is a safe zone.” Releasing her wrist, he gestured at the area between him and her. “Anything you say stays right here. You can trust me. Are you done with the raviolis? I’ll ask Frank to remove them.”
“No. Don’t you dare! They’re absolutely wonderful.” Laughing, she scooped two raviolis, dumped them onto her dish, then drizzled more sauce over them. “There, the rest are yours. These are mine.” She munched happily into one. As she relished the combination of familiar and new flavors, she planned a good opener for her story.
Sometimes, the best course was a straight line.
“Okay. My dad’s Italian-American, first generation, and my mom is Chilean. There you have them, my two wine-loving sides.”
“Do you speak both languages?”
“I wish. My dad didn’t want to learn Italian from his parents when he was growing up, and Nana didn’t insist. My mom came to the States when she was eleven. She kept her language and passed it on to me.”
While she spoke, Joe held up two fingers, and Frank materialized at their table. Swiftly, he removed platter and dishes. Joe gestured again, and an instant later, her wine glass was refilled.
“That’s it?” He folded his hands. “I know there’s more.”
She averted her gaze. “Not really.”
“Your eyes betray you, Hunter.” He shook his head as his voice took an edge. “Don’t waste my time with lies. If all you want to have is idle chitchat, I’m not your man.”
What have I done?
I’ve disappointed him. Again.
Why should I care?
He’s moving away, abandoning me. The gap widens, larger and larger.
I’m so confused. Don’t leave…
“Hold on,” she exclaimed, a prisoner of her thoughts. “I have a boy, an eight-year-old son.”
Joe stiffened. She was a mother. Her circumstances were a lot more complex than he’d ever imagined.
Did that change anything?
No.
He’d taken advantage of her growing attachment and had pressured her to relive distressing moments and speak about them. It had been too much and too soon. Her glittering eyes, grimace, and pale skin revealed pain and anguish.
“Where is he?” He softened his tone, going into his dominant aftercare voice.
She sighed. “In Brooklyn, with my parents.”
“Hmmm. Are you sending for him?”
“Yes.”
“That explains the move.”
She nodded weakly. He opened his palm on the table. She seemed confused at first, then her eyes widened in understanding. She placed her wrist upside down on his splayed hand, allowing his fingers to circle around it. As his thumb caressed the soft skin, she breathed in and closed her eyes.
Hunter’s submissive nature was a joy to behold. In this moment, she was beautiful, at peace, and, for now, his. A sense of longing grew within him. If only he could keep her…
“Excuse me, Mr. Reid. These plates are extremely hot.” Frank appeared on his right side followed by a server holding two side dishes.
Joe released Hunter’s wrist. As if caught with her hand in the cookie jar, she pulled her arm back. An adorable blush covered her features.
“The filets are still sizzling,” she murmured, eyes wide.
“Indeed, so, miss. We heat our plates to five hundred degrees,” Frank explained proudly as he positioned the side dishes. “I’ll return in a minute to check your steaks are cooked to your satisfaction. In the meantime, is there anything else I can bring?”
“Perhaps a little more wine for the lady,” Joe answered.
“Certainly.” Frank departed.
Joe rubbed his palms together, admiring the spread. “We have creamed spinach and potatoes au gratin. Both are delicious.” He went ahead and served Hunter a scoop of each. “Let me know if your filet needs more fire.”
“Okay.” Nodding, she sampled a small piece of her beef. “Oh my God. This is amazing. It’s like butter.” Taking another bite, she rolled her eyes in obvious delight.
“Happy?”
She tittered, covering her full mouth to speak. “Yes. Thank you.”
“Just what I wanted.” Oh, yeah, he enjoyed this laughing, lighthearted Hunter. He gave himself a mental nudge: enough pressure for one night. She was here to have a nice dinner and a fun evening. Despite her strong attraction to him, she’d be reluctant to go out again if she had a miserable experience.
He needed more time to seduce her, tantalize her with the submissive aspect of her personality so she would accept the truth without fear, or even shame, as often happened.
Above all, it was crucial she came to desire his dominance and the pleasures he offered. To need him without reservations.
A twitch of guilt rose up. He pushed it aside. The plan’s success was everything.
The path leading to Hunter’s cottage had suddenly plunged into darkness. When Joe and Hunter entered the walkway,
the distant streetlights had offered the faintest illumination. Once they passed the owner’s home, they lost it. Joe held on to Hunter’s hand with a firm grip. He wore flat shoes and had trouble negotiating the flagstones, as some were raised and uneven. He couldn’t imagine how she managed on those crazy high heels without falling or breaking an ankle.
At the door, she held the rose between her teeth as she fumbled with the shadowed key slot.
“You need a motion light,” he muttered, angry that she lived in these conditions. “Do you work tomorrow?” He knew she didn’t. He asked anyway.
“No. I’m off.” Her words came out muffled from holding the stem.
“Great. I’ll be back in the morning to set it up. This is dangerous, you coming home late at night.”
“Joe, this is a rental.” She turned the key and pushed the door in. “I’m searching for a bigger place.”
“So? Take it with you when you leave. I don’t want to scare you, but this isn’t Brooklyn. We have wildlife in these parts, raccoons, snakes, and other critters.”
“Aww.” Turning to Joe, she playfully tapped the rose’s petals on his nose. “That’s sweet. Uh… Want to come in?”
He drove from the restaurant with the intention of capping the evening at her door, but the hope and expectation in her voice was hard to resist. She wanted more of him. Why deny her? He followed her in.
“Here. Your leftover wine.” He placed the plastic bag with the corked bottle on the table.
“Thanks,” she murmured. “Give me a second. I should have something around here that I can use to hold the rose.” She searched through the back of her cupboard, moved items around, and came out with a thin glass vase. “This will do.” Smiling, she held it like a trophy as she dropped the stem inside. She returned her attention to the table, tugged the edges of the bag apart, and took out the half-full bottle, studying the liquid against the light. “There’s enough here for two glasses. Will you join me?”
“You naughty girl.” He narrowed his eye. “I still have to drive home.”
“Oh, bummer.” Hunter pouted. “Can’t be that far and…I do hate to drink alone.”
He chuckled. That was as open an invitation as he’d ever heard. Good opportunity to show her a preview of who he was and see her reaction—and in the process, get a nice taste of her.
Extending his hand, Joe used his commanding tone. “Give me the bottle, gorgeous. Get two glasses and a corkscrew.”
Hunter threw her shoulders back and formed a circle with her mouth. She hesitated, then pivoted to the drawer behind her. She rummaged through the contents, pulled the corkscrew out and turned to her small cupboard. Taking two glasses from the shelf, she brought all the items to him—so far, so good. He nodded in approval, and she blinked.
Interesting.
“Hold the glasses up for me,” he instructed as he wiggled the cork out. She obeyed in silence.
Joe emptied the bottle’s leftover contents into both glasses. As he took his glass from her hands, he locked on to her eyes. Her expression was blank.
He raised his glass. She echoed his movement.
“Salud,” he murmured.
“Salud,” she repeated and sipped.
Instead of drinking, he watched her. As she swallowed, a tiny red drop lingered on her luscious lower lip. Leaning forward, he picked it up with the tip of his tongue.
Her eyes widened, her nostrils flared, and her breaths picked up speed. Her chest heaved. She took a step back.
“You do not have permission to move.” He spoke slowly, ensuring his words penetrated her mind.
Lowering her gaze, she returned to her previous spot. Damn, she was a natural. Her sub form was excellent. He mentally cursed the poor illumination in the studio. He couldn’t study her pupils, the best indicators of her emotions. Gently, he took her glass from her hand and placed it next to his on the table.
Hunter surprised him when she tilted her face up to him. There it was, his clear invitation.
“Give me your mouth. I want to taste you.”
The scent of wine mixed with sweet crème brûlée in her breath reached his nostrils. She arched forward, and her female aroma rose to meet him. He slipped his arm around her warm exposed skin and dove in. He nipped her trembling lower lip, chewed it lightly between his teeth, and she mewled in response.
“Feel good?” he murmured above her lips.
“Y-yes.”
She sighed, throwing her arms around his neck.
“More?” he asked.
“Uh-huh.”
Joe applied pressure to her lip. Hunter moaned. Wonderful, she definitely enjoyed sensual pain, and he was the right man to give her as much as she wanted. For now, he held back. This was an initial exploration. If he kept biting, her tortured lip would be raw and swollen tomorrow, so he let it go. He had other fascinating parts to explore.
Slowly, he swept his tongue into her mouth, roaming and learning every hidden area. Her tongue touched his, and he pulled away.
“That’s not allowed.”
“But—”
“Tonight, I’m in charge of your pleasure, Hunter.” His face was close to hers. He spoke to her eyes. “If you don’t want this, say so and I’ll stop. Instantly.”
“What about your needs?”
He smiled. “I’m very specific. When I desire or need something, you’ll know with absolute certainty. I’m pleasing Hunter Giordano tonight, not me.”
She studied his expression. Her eyes darted, seeking comprehension.
“Well? Do I continue?” He caressed her silky cheek.
Hunter sighed. “This is so new, so different.”
“Of course it is. We’ll take one experience at a time. All right?”
“Yes.”
“I want your delicious mouth again.”
“Ah,” she exclaimed, melting into his chest as he went back in. Her mouth relaxed under his invasion. He could go as far as he wanted.
She trembled in his arms, her aroused nipples pressed against his shirt. She’d thrown back her head, exposing her lovely long neck. He took the offering and moved down. He kissed and sucked, knowing he was leaving small red marks along her throat. He descended to the point where her dress blocked his path. Time to improvise.
Glancing around the room, he located her bed, swept her into his arms, and placed her down on her sheets.
“Stay still.” He sat at her side as he reached for the top of her dress. Turning his earlier fantasy into reality, he peeled the knit material down, past her shoulders to her upper arms. He continued an inch lower, and her full breasts popped out. His breath rushed out. “You are so beautiful.”
Hunter blushed deep red. She shifted to move her arms. He didn’t miss her tiny smile when she realized the dress restrained her. More good news, she was a bondage candidate. She wiggled again, testing the give of the fabric. He ignored it. If she wanted him to stop, she’d have to say it.
“Tell me, gorgeous. When was the last time you had a real orgasm?” He grazed a nipple with his fingernail as he spoke. Her pebble stiffened, smaller bumps forming around her pink areola.
“I…”
“Thought so.” He took the erect nipple between his lips, nibbled for a moment, and let go. “Tonight, you will.” With that settled, he refocused his attention on her lovely stiff peaks. He suckled on the right while his fingers rolled and pulled at the left. Moving to the left, he bit and tugged side to side as he pinched the right nipple. Hunter groaned.
“Too much?”
“No. More. More. More.”
“You’re going to love nipple clamps. But for now…” Chuckling, he resumed his previous ministration.
As his teeth tugged and he cupped her breast to his mouth, he lowered the left hand to grasp the hem of her dress. Slowly, he pulled it up, reveling in the sensation of discovery and enjoyment. But the fabric wasn’t sliding fast enough. As he freed his right hand, he took her lips in a silencing kiss while he slipped the hem up to her thigh
s.
“Lift up your butt.” He tapped her hips, she obeyed, and the bottom of her dress rolled to her waist.
Straightening, he paused to admire the stunning image of Hunter almost naked. Her lacy black thong was the only item spoiling the full presentation. In a swift move, he removed the strip of nothing. “This is my property.” He clutched it like a trophy.
Still red as a beet, Hunter pressed her legs together in a modest gesture. She was so adorable in her shyness, he had a brief impulse to give her a break.
“Stop. Your legs stay open. Hiding is not allowed.”
He shook his head as he glided his palms along her silky legs to her feet. He removed one shoe, planted her foot on one side of the bed, then repeated the action with the other at the far side. Her beautiful mons covered with a small triangle of auburn curls lay open for his ravenous eyes.
Oh, fuck. His stiff cock strained against his zipper. Desire ruled him. Control would require a supreme effort. He could take her right now, invade her until she lost consciousness.
No. He’d promised. Tonight, satisfaction would be hers.
He slipped his forefinger between her moist pussy lips. “This is how I want it, full access to all of you.”
“Joe.” Her voice came out choked. Was it enjoyment or disgust? Had he pushed her too hard?
He studied her pink clit peeking at him. He hadn’t started teasing it, and it was already swollen. His mouth ached to suck it, taste the real Hunter, swallow her juices, impregnating the last cell in his system with her essence. But before he allowed his impulse to roll, he had to check on her.
“Too much, gorgeous?”
“This…” Eyes wide, she struggled to speak. “I… I’m embarrassed.”
“Why? You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. If you could see yourself from my end, you’d understand. There’s no shame here. Only pleasure. May I please you? Give you what you desperately need.”
Deception Page 13
