He climbed off the bed. “Don’t move.”
“A pointless request since you have me tied to your bed.”
He laughed, then crossed the room and disappeared through a door. I caught a glimpse of rows of suits and pants. Must be his closet. He reappeared, and clutched in his hands was a red tie. He stalked toward me, threading it through his fingers, his cock now fully erect and bobbing between his hips.
“What’s that for?” I asked, even though I could guess, and the very idea had a flush of wetness surging to the apex of my thighs. I’d had sex before, but never anything more than your common or garden variety. Missionary mainly. A few instances of oral sex, bad oral sex usually, but nothing remotely adventurous. When Garen had bound my hands with my panties in the car, the inability to move my arms, to touch him, had excited me far more than I would have ever thought possible, and now I had an urge to experiment. Looked like I’d found the right guy for that.
“I’m going to blindfold you.”
Straddling me once more, he fastened it around my head, covering my eyes. I should be scared, or at the very least wary. A few days earlier I hated this man with every part of my being, yet now here I was, lying naked in his bed and allowing him to tie me up, to blindfold me.
To fuck me.
Yet I wasn’t fearful. I was turned on.
I’d study how I’d shifted my opinion so considerably another day. Today was not that day.
Light seeped in from above and below the makeshift eye mask, but as far as seeing anything other than the occasional shadow I was, for all intents and purposes, completely cut off from any visuals.
Music filled the room, soft notes, and then a woman’s haunting voice echoed, the incredible sound covering my skin in goose bumps. Classical music. My favorite. Reminded me of ballet.
“Comfortable?”
Garen’s rasping voice sounded off to my right. At least I think that was where it came from. The general consensus was that when one or two senses were cut off, all the rest heightened to make up for the loss. Mine hadn’t gotten the memo because when his voice came at me again, it was in my left ear.
“Cat got your tongue, chaton?”
I swallowed past a boulder lodged in my throat. “I’m good.”
His lips brushed against mine. I lifted my head to maintain contact, but he moved away, chuckling. I growled, drawing a louder snigger from him.
“My little kitty has claws, I see.” His teeth grazed my earlobe. “Good thing I restrained you then.”
I bit down on my lip and squirmed my legs, desperate for any kind of friction. Garen’s hands clamped on my inner thighs, and he pushed my legs apart, leaning on me so I couldn’t move.
“I could stare at your glistening pussy all day,” he said, blowing on my folds.
I gasped, then groaned when he did it again. “More,” I begged.
“More what, Catriona?”
“More you.”
“Do you want my tongue, my hands, or my cock here?” He grazed a fingertip from my clit to my ass, then back up again, then inserted two fingers into my channel.
I tried to arch my back but couldn’t with my arms secured behind my head and Garen holding down my legs.
“All of it,” I begged.
“Greedy girl,” he murmured, crooking his fingers to graze my inner front wall.
Just as I was relishing the fullness, he withdrew, and then his fingers touched my lips.
“Suck.”
The repetition of the word he’d used when he’d pressed his cock to my mouth pulled a long groan from me, one that came from deep within my belly. I lapped at him, tasting my own arousal, licking every drop he gave me.
He fingered me again, then withdrew. I parted my lips, waiting for a repeat. Instead, he said, “Mmm. I could get addicted to the taste of you, Catriona.”
I writhed, heat flooding my core. He clamped a large hand down on each of my thighs. “You’re a wriggler,” he said. “I’d tie your ankles, too, but then I wouldn’t have the enjoyment of your legs around my neck when I fuck you.”
“Jesus,” I muttered, images flooding my mind, made more vivid by the inability to see. Garen, jaw tight, forehead creased, concentration warring on his features as he thrust into me over and over. Watching the way he squeezed his eyes closed and chewed down on his lip when he came. The way his face smoothed at the end of his climax in pure bliss at the height of pleasure.
He licked my clit slowly, then traveled up my body, leaving a trail of kisses and little flicks with his tongue in his wake. When he reached my breasts, I held my breath. Please. My nipples ached for his attention, and while I couldn’t see them, I knew they were elongated, waiting for his mouth, the areola pebbled and drawn inward. I thrust my chest upward, toward what I hoped was his mouth. I could feel his warm breath, and I imagined him hovering over me, reveling in my torture.
“You’re killing me.”
“I know.” A soft puff of air blew over my right nipple. “Should I pay attention to this one first?” Another wisp over my left nipple. “Or this one? Or maybe both together.”
My intended reply died on my lips the second his large hands clasped my breasts. He pushed them together and then sucked on them simultaneously. An explosion of raw need turned my insides out, and I thrashed my legs, searching for something to give me a little friction. I found his cock, long, thick, hard as a rod of steel. I ground against him, my clit finally getting the contact it needed.
“God, yes,” I moaned, craving him everywhere at once.
He reared back, and then I heard the distinctive sound of a foil wrapper being ripped. As he settled between my legs again, I wrapped my ankles around his hips, dug my heels into his ass, and drove him into me in one swift move.
“Fuck,” Garen expelled. “Jesus Christ.”
A sense of accomplishment hurtled through me. He thought he was in control, but he wasn’t. Even bound and blindfolded, I was running the show.
“You’re a bad girl, Catriona Landry,” Garen whispered in my ear, his stroke sure and even, although his voice had a hitch to it that gave him away. He wasn’t nearly as disciplined as he liked to make out. “Wrap your legs around my neck.”
I did as he asked, grateful for the supreme flexibility gifted to me by dancing. From this angle, he drove deeper, filling me completely. The head of his cock bumped the neck of my womb, or at least that’s what it felt like, and I grunted.
“Okay?” he ground out, and I imagined him spilling the words between clenched teeth, the hard planes of his jaw flexing as he fought for control.
“Yes. Don’t stop.”
He pounded into me, his balls slapping against my ass, helped by the angle of my lower body. Heat spread through my belly, and my legs quivered as a growing pressure built up, hurling me toward an inevitable climax. Just a little more friction.
As if he read my mind, he rubbed my clit, and I fell, tumbling over and over into a blissful state I never wanted to leave. I cried out his name, my calf muscles twitching against his ears.
“Fuck, Catriona,” he murmured. He thrust twice more, then stilled, his breathing sharp and short in my ear.
I lowered my legs to his waist and hugged him to me, and we lay like that for at least a minute, our breaths slowly leveling out.
Garen pushed the tie over the top of my head, and I blinked, squinting as light flooded my retinas. He swiftly untied my wrists, then rolled to the side. His arm came around me, and he tucked my head into his chest. I snuggled into him, feeling more relaxed than I had in a very long time.
“Are you an only child?” I asked, the desire to find out about his background coming over me.
He raised his head a bit and caught my eye. “Why? Are you hoping for a more attractive brother?”
I raised my eyes to the ceiling. “No. I’m just curious. I don’t know anything about you.”
He flopped back onto the pillow. “Yes, I’m an only child. I bet you’re thinking that explains why I’m such a
n asshole. Spoiled as a kid.” He chuckled. “You’d be right. I have wonderful parents.”
A rush of envy sent tears to the backs of my eyes. I blinked them away. “My parents died when I was twelve.”
He shifted onto his side and caressed my cheek. “I know. I’m sorry. I can’t imagine how rough that must have been.”
“It was. For me. Aiden doesn’t even remember them. He was only two.” I sighed. “I hope you tell your parents that you love them all the time. None of us know what’s around the corner.”
An odd expression crossed his face. “They live in Montreal. I don’t get to see them very often, but I call once a week.”
“Good.” I pulled my lips to one side as a thought occurred to me. “How did you know about my parents?”
He grinned. “I know everything, Miss Landry. Remember that.”
He began to tickle me, and I squealed and shoved at him, but he was an immovable wall. Our laughter filled the air, and then, in the next breath, he stopped, a frown drawing his eyebrows inward.
“What’s the matter?” I asked, my chest tingling. I didn’t like that expression. He appeared confused at best, regretful at worst.
He shook his head. “I don’t know who I am with you. I’m not me.”
I moved onto my side, trying not to let his words upset me. I tucked my palms underneath the pillow. “What does that mean?”
He expelled a long breath through his nose, and still he wouldn’t look at me. I started to regret allowing him to use the blindfold. If he’d let me see him while he fucked me, I might have been able to read his mood easier. We’d gone from light flirting to solemnity in a couple of minutes. The problem was, we didn’t really know each other. We’d met through adversity, discovered a mutual attraction, and now our relationship had shifted into unknown territory for both of us.
I placed a hand on his chest. “Do you want me to go?”
He gave me his eyes then, his head swiveling so fast he must have cricked his neck. “No,” he stated firmly. “I don’t want you to go.”
“Then what do you want?”
He shifted onto his side, and my hand fell away. He clasped my wrist and placed my hand on his chest again, this time right over his heart.
“I’m no good for you. You know that, right? I will hurt you. It’s in my nature.”
My throat tightened, and my chest felt as though someone was sitting on it, the pressure forcing air from my lungs. His words and his actions were diametrically opposed.
“You already hurt me when you bought my studio,” I said, hiding how even saying that out loud wounded me. “I survived.”
He blinked slowly, running the tips of his fingers over my knuckles where my hand still rested on his chest, his heart beating steadily beneath my palm.
“I’m twenty-nine years old, and the most dates I’ve ever been on with any woman is four. And believe me, there have been a lot of women. And that fourth date? I’d only show up because I’d had a shitty day and I knew that a fuck would release some of the tension riding me. That’s the kind of man I am. The man who ruthlessly blackmailed you into selling your ballet studio, the one who forced you to your knees and told you to blow me if you wanted to save your brother’s life.” He grimaced. “The man who takes pleasure in causing you pain and upset, like I did that day at the building site. I enjoyed your tears, your agony. I fed on it. That’s what I do, Catriona. That’s where I get my joy. I don’t know why. I haven’t a clue what it is about you, specifically, that makes me want to hurt you one minute and kiss you the next, but it’s there, and I can’t control it.” He blew out a steadying breath. “There’s something about you that brings out the very worst in me, and it’s fucking with my head.”
Oh, Garen. My heart squeezed tight. I flexed my fingers beneath his, and he let me go, but those eyes, he kept them right on me.
“Want to know what I think?”
He shrugged. “Probably not.”
A faint smile touched my lips. “Y’know, a week ago, I hated your guts. Or at least I thought I did. And yes, you’ve hurt me with the relentless pursuit of your own agenda. And that is who you are, at least when it comes to business. Single-minded, merciless, heartless even. But then there’re these moments when you’re kind and thoughtful, and it’s that man I’m attracted to, not the one you describe. You might not be any good for me, Garen, and yes, if I stick around, I might get hurt, but I’m willing to take the risk.”
His gaze flickered over my face, searching for the truth in my words, and then he rolled onto his back and pulled me on top of him. “You might live to regret it.”
“I might,” I agreed. “But at least I’ll have lived.”
24
Catriona
The warmth of the sun peeking through the blinds drew me out of my slumber. I stretched my arms overhead, my fingers brushing the headboard. Memories of last night when Garen tied me up with his shirt came flooding back, and I squirmed, pressing my thighs together to stem an ache that instantly appeared.
I shifted onto my left side. Garen lay on his back, the sheet around his waist revealing taut, tanned abs and a light dusting of hair that started at his navel and arrowed downward. He had one arm flung overhead, the other resting on his stomach.
I reached out to touch him, then withdrew. He looked different in sleep, peaceful, and the often-present harsh tilt to his lips was absent.
My bladder felt fit to burst, and I folded back the sheet and slipped out of bed, padding over to the door where Garen had fetched the cloth to wipe his cum off of me last night. My face heated at the memory, and I snuck inside quickly in case Garen woke and asked why I was blushing. Not a conversation I particularly wanted to have. Doing the deed was all well and good, but talking about it afterward… nope. I’d rather not.
Garen’s bathroom was the height of luxury. Underfloor heating warmed the soles of my feet, and a large, freestanding tub sat in the center of the room, while twin sinks were affixed to one wall. A huge walk-in shower was at the far end with a view down to the lake and over at the mountains on the opposite shoreline.
What a view.
I used the toilet, then padded over to the sinks. My gaze fell on Garen’s toothbrush, and I even went to use it, then changed my mind. I could borrow his shirt and make a dash for my own room, but knowing my luck, Grams would materialize and demand answers I wasn’t ready to give.
Instead, I spread toothpaste on my finger and scrubbed my teeth as best I could, then swilled with alcohol-free mouthwash. Smoothing my bird’s-nest mop of hair as best I could—see, this was why I put it up at night—I washed my face with cool water, then ventured back into the bedroom to find Garen lying on his side, his head propped up by his right arm. He gave me a full head-to-toe appraisal and licked his lips.
“Ah, now there’s a sight I don’t mind waking up to.”
It took a lot of effort to leave myself uncovered. After what we’d done together in the last twelve hours, it would be stupid to act coy now. Praying I didn’t blush, I muttered, “Oh, you’re awake,” then dashed over to the bed and slipped beneath the covers. I pulled them up and over my breasts.
Garen gripped the edge and yanked downward, then to the side, exposing me to his heated gaze. “Don’t hide.”
He bent his head and grazed his teeth over my nipple, drawing a gasp from me. His tongue formed a point, and he circled the erect nub, then suckled. My core clenched, and somehow my hand found its way between my legs.
Garen stopped, lifted his head, then grinned. “Oh, that’s right.” He sat up, knitted his hands together, then folded them behind his head. “We discussed this last night when I denied you an orgasm. You promised you could make yourself come.” He jerked his chin. “Let’s see it.”
I blushed to the tips of my ears and quickly removed my hand. Saying what I had in the heat of sexual frustration and anger at his merciless denial was one thing. To actually masturbate in front of him? Quite another.
“I was mad at you,
” I mumbled.
“Oh, I know. Which is why I spent the entire meal with a sizeable erection rubbing against my zipper.” He circled my wrist and pushed my hand back between my legs. “Go on, Catriona. I want to watch. I might pick up some tips.”
“You don’t need any tips.”
His eyes glittered, and a cocky smirk touched his lips. “We can all learn something if we’re willing to pay attention.”
I stared at him, beseeching. “Don’t ask me to do this. I can’t.”
He shifted to the bottom of the bed and gripped my ankles, then planted my feet flat on the mattress and pushed them toward my ass. He applied pressure to the insides of my knees, and they parted, exposing me fully.
“Touch yourself,” he demanded. “And I’ll do the same.”
He wrapped a hand around the base of his cock and pumped once, twice, a third time. “See, it’s easy. Come on, mon petit chaton. Don’t you want to please me?”
“Oh God,” I moaned, my hand automatically moving between my legs.
“Watch me,” Garen said softly.
I lowered my gaze to his groin. Already his cock seemed impossibly hard, the head swollen and angry-looking, his slit seeping with pre-cum.
A deep groan released from low in my chest, and I rubbed my middle finger over the bunch of nerves at the top of my sex, my movements slow at first but accelerating in time with Garen’s increasing speed. I drew in a ragged, shuddering breath, clenching my inner muscles to stem the tide, but all that did was send me hurtling to the shore. A swell began in my abdomen, peaked, and then I was coming, crying out in ecstasy, any embarrassment chased away by the force of my climax.
“Fuck me, that’s hot,” Garen uttered, and then cum spurted from his cock, all over my pussy where it mingled with evidence of my own arousal. “Jesus, Catriona. You are a goddamn revelation.”
Entrapped: A Billionaire Romance (The ROGUES Series Book 3) Page 13
