Not willing to look a gift horse in the mouth, Connor reached into his side table and grabbed the soft, cotton rope he kept there. He tied her wrists loosely to ensure he didn’t cut off her circulation before tying her wrists to the headboard. She could move, but she couldn’t touch him.
‘Is this OK? Are you in any pain?’
She shook her head, saying, ‘I’m fine, Connor. I trust you.’
Those words reverberated through him. Her trust was exactly what he’d been trying so hard to earn. Her eyes were dark with desire and he wanted her so badly, but this was what he’d been waiting for. He wanted her to see what it could be like between them.
He wanted her to see that there was nothing wrong with liking sex a bit kinky. Or bondage, or even a bit of pain to add to the pleasure. The only thing that mattered was that both people had to want it.
‘Good, you won’t regret it.’ His words were gruff, but he didn’t stop to think about the emotions that coursed through him at the gift Bridget was giving him. He just knew he didn’t want to mess this up.
Moving back, he lavished attention on her breasts, sucking, licking, biting and tugging. He ate up the sounds of her cries, her moans and whimpers.
Even as she screamed his name, he moved further down and tugged off her thong before diving between her legs. He devoured her flesh. He traced her nether lips with his tongue. She writhed beneath him, calling his name and begging him to finish her, but he wasn’t nearly done.
Reaching once again for his drawer, he pulled out a particular favourite toy. The flogger was soft, meant to cause only the barest amount of pain. At the sight of it, Bridget’s eyes went wide and flew to his.
‘Connor?’ There was no fear, only inquiry in her voice.
‘Trust me?’ he asked, his stomach tense at the possibility of her ending this.
Emerald-green eyes bored into his and he felt his heart melt when she said, ‘Yes, baby. I trust you.’
‘The word is “red” if you want me to stop, OK?’
She nodded and once again bit her lip. This time he leaned over and sucked it into his mouth before moving back.
He ran the flogger along her skin, not striking her at all. He just wanted to get her used to its presence. Goosebumps erupted along her body everywhere he touched.
‘Still OK?’ he asked.
‘Yes.’ She was breathing harder, but her face was calm.
He struck her breasts and she cried out. He didn’t hit hard; the flogger was velvet. Designed to sting not harm. Streaks of red bloomed on her pale skin.
He stroked her skin, soothing it before reaching between her legs. She was soaked. He traced her clitoris; it was distended and swollen. She arched and moaned. He thrust his fingers into her pussy and she clenched around him.
He struck again. Her other breast this time. Again she cried out. He took up a rhythm, alternating between striking her breasts and fingering her pussy. Always checking to ensure she was OK and ready for more.
She went wild. Writhing and moaning, she cried out for “more” and “harder”. It was everything he’d ever thought it could be between them.
He struck again, demanding, ‘Come for me baby!’
She did.
Her inner walls rippled around his fingers as she screamed succumbing to her orgasm. She cried his name, whimpered and moaned wordlessly.
He couldn’t wait another moment. Tossing the flogger aside, he threw her legs over his shoulders and plunged into her. She was hot and wet and enveloped him fully. He pounded deep, grunting and hollering as her pussy sucked at him.
His climax rocked him as he cried her name. Holding deep, his body clenched in pained pleasure at the intensity. He’d never experienced satisfaction like it with any other woman. He never wanted to leave her body.
Releasing her wrists, he collapsed beside her and pulled her close. She whimpered and he stroked her back. He kissed her forehead, hoping beyond hope he hadn’t pushed her too far. He had to let her know how he felt. ‘Bridget, I lo –’
Hoooooooooooooooooonk!
The blare of the horn on the street outside yanked Connor from the dream. He fell out of his bed in a tangle of sheets. Sheets that were definitely going to need to be washed.
He hadn’t had a wet dream since he was in his teens. His heart raced and he leaned back against his bed and took some deep breaths to calm down. That dream had been something else. It had been so real. It was exactly what he wanted their sex life to be.
Uninhibited. Raw.
But they weren’t there yet; not even close. They were still tiptoeing around the problem and he had no real idea how to take them where they needed to be.
She had to want it. Want him that way, and so far she didn’t. At least, not enough to take the risk.
With a sinking heart, Connor threw his sheets in the wash and went to take a shower.
Chapter Eighteen
Connor walked to Bridget’s townhouse, all the while struggling to find some peace. His mind was full of possibilities and daydreams – erotic fantasies that lingered after that dream of his – and that wasn’t his usual way.
But then he wasn’t used to walking such a fine line with a woman either. Usually, the women he dated were just as eager as he was to jump into bed and explore the sensual aspects of sex outside of the accepted “norms”. And they were just as eager to keep it light.
He was in uncharted territory with Bridget.
Connor was doing his best to be patient. The last thing he wanted was to scare her off, but he was finding it hard to hold back. He wanted no boundaries between them. He wanted to know that she was as committed as he was.
It was early days yet, and he wasn’t the kind to fall so hard so fast. Hell, he wasn’t even willing to use the “L” word at this point, but he already cared. That he could say for sure. He definitely wanted to see if they could make anything out of the chemistry between them. He wanted more than casual with Bridget. It surprised him, but he’d never been more sure of anything in his life.
He couldn’t say the same of Bridget.
If he was a rock, she was like an ocean wave – unable to be pinned down. She flitted on the edges of their relationship; there but not fully present. It was as if there was a piece of the puzzle he just couldn’t see and if he could see it, everything would finally make sense.
Her rape was an obvious obstacle. She had internalised that event in a way that had scarred her deeply and he was walking on eggshells around that. He couldn’t just tie her up and spank her and say, ‘There now do you see?’ She had to want to go there with him. Had to give her consent and understand that anything two mature people consented to during sex was worthwhile in the communion and bond that it forged.
He’d heard all the arguments about “deviant and abnormal”, etc., yawn, freaking etc. He wasn’t a religious guy, but he honestly didn’t believe that God set people up to fail. There were entirely too many people who had these urges and who had healthy relationships exploring them for it to be wrong. Consent was the key to everything. So long as you found someone who wanted to do it too, then it was all good in his book.
Bridget hadn’t consented to what Trent had done to her. The fact that she’d experienced pleasure at any level had done a real number on her head. It was no different than children who were molested and found themselves unable to reconcile their natural sexual response with the betrayal of their innocence. They internalised and judged themselves just like Bridget was doing.
But that understanding did nothing to illuminate what he could do to get Bridget to face that fact. She had to want to understand it.
And therein lay the rub. He wasn’t at all sure she wanted to. Oftentimes, it was much safer to stay in a box even if it was an uncomfortable or painful one. That she’d given him her address was a huge step, but it wasn’t her physical safety that was at issue. She was smart enough to know it too.
No, it was her emotional safety that she had to be willing both to risk and to take
responsibility for. So far, she’d done neither. She shared with him only to a point. She revealed nothing beyond the superficial. And she resisted all his efforts to take their sexual relationship beyond the traditional. The closest they’d come to “dark” was doggie style the last time they’d made love.
Connor was no psychotherapist and he damn sure wasn’t in the business of saving people who didn’t want to be saved. That was futile.
Bridget was different. She made him want more. Inspired him to reach farther, push harder than he ever had, and he wanted her to do the same. He didn’t want to be in this alone.
That was what people who cared for one another did: pushed each other to reach outside themselves and be more. Together they could be synergistic; the sum more than the individual parts.
Connor snorted. Enough existentialism. It was going to be what it was.
Period.
Bridget stared at her reflection and wondered for the millionth time if she was doing the right thing. So far, everything with Connor had been going great. He’d lived up to everything he’d promised. He wasn’t rushing her. He wasn’t pressuring her in any way. In all things, he’d been a man of his word. So much so, that she’d called him up and volunteered her address.
In truth, she’d begun to feel guilty. He’d put himself out so much for her she’d felt like she had to give him something. He could be trusted. She believed that. And, she felt safe with him.
Well, physically safe at any rate. Emotionally … not so much. Which was why she still had a hard time opening up to him fully. Logically, she understood that if they were going to have a relationship, there should be no secrets, but Dean Whittier’s harassment wasn’t a secret really. It didn’t have anything to do with their relationship. It was more of a private matter that she wanted to handle herself. Connor worked at the university too and she couldn’t risk him doing something rash if he went all testosterone-male on her.
No, it was better this way. She would find a way to deal with the dean and leave Connor out of it.
They hadn’t discussed her revelations about her rape again either, which suited her just fine. She still hadn’t come to grips with everything Connor had said. If she’d been wrong all these years, where did that leave her now? How did she cope with the decisions and choices she’d made based on the premise that the rape was a punishment?
Her heart squeezed at the thought.
It was something she wasn’t at all comfortable with, and until she was, she didn’t want to discuss it. She and Connor were taking it slow. Very slow. And that was as it should be. They were getting to know each other and so far proving to be very compatible. Even sexually.
Well, she was at least. Connor, on the other hand, she wasn’t so sure about. He’d seemed disappointed at one point the last time they’d had sex. He’d been playing with her breasts, frankly driving her out of her mind, and she’d almost lost it and asked him to spank her breasts. She’d reacted immediately and shut that down, taking his hands and moving them away from her nipples. She’d said they were too sensitive. Which was true.
Technically.
She just wasn’t ready to put Connor’s theory to the test. She’d gone for too long one way and she couldn’t afford to be wrong. The consequences were too dire if she was.
She squared her shoulders. There. See. She was right to take this as slow as she was. That didn’t mean she couldn’t bend a little – for Connor’s sake.
But not too much.
Which was exactly why she was in this particular dress. Connor hadn’t said anything, and she was comfortable with what she wore, but she figured he’d appreciate the dress she had on. A creation of delicate gold silk, all the support she needed was built in, so no bra. She was uncomfortable as hell, but she wanted tonight to be special. To show Connor she was willing to take a step in the right direction even if it was just a baby step.
A final glance in the mirror said she was ready. Her hair was piled on top of her head in ringlets that framed her face. Light make-up accentuated her features and simple gold jewellery set off the peach undertones in her skin. A quick spritz of perfume and she was good to go.
Just as she set the bottle down on the dresser, the doorbell rang.
‘Come on, Daisy,’ she said to the pit bull terrier, who’d been lazing on the bed. ‘It’s time to rock his world.’
They walked the few blocks to Luna Bella, a local Italian restaurant in the trendy art district. The weather was warm. Perfect for strolling.
Connor looked amazing in all black. She’d always felt that men were sexiest when clothed in black from head to toe. She’d seriously considered persuading him to skip dinner when she’d seen him, but had decided against it. She didn’t want to risk him thinking it was about her not wanting to spend his money.
It wasn’t that she thought he couldn’t afford to take her out; it was more that she didn’t want him to feel obligated if by chance he really couldn’t. She wasn’t dating him for dinners at fancy restaurants. She was dating him because he was smart and passionate and because he moved her in ways that no other man had.
She may have only removed a few bricks in her wall, but no other man had even gotten that.
‘You’re quiet tonight.’ Connor took her hand and tucked it into his elbow, bringing their bodies into closer contact.
‘I was just thinking about how amazing you look. Black suits you.’
‘It’s good you feel that way, because I’m not going to be the only man who wants to eat you up in that dress.’
Bridget laughed and smiled up at him, only to shiver at the heat in his eyes. No one but Connor had ever looked at her like that. Like she was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.
It made her tingle.
Connor turned to face her and whispered in her ear, ‘What would you do if I took you into this alley right here, lifted that skirt, and feasted on you?’
Bridget couldn’t speak as the erotic image tumbled through her mind. Her body went liquid and her breath hitched as desire coursed through her.
Connor slowly backed her up until they were standing just inside the alley entrance and her heart galloped at the idea that he might try to make good on his words.
She opened her mouth to protest but Connor covered her lips with his. Delving slowly into her mouth, his tongue danced and duelled with hers. It was a kiss full of eroticism and longing. He kissed her as if they had nothing better to do and he had all the time in the world.
One hand cupped her breast and the other her ass. He pulled her close so that his erection rested on her belly. Instinctively she rubbed against him. She was shocked to realise that she was very tempted to do exactly as he suggested. To lean up against the wall, raise her skirt, and press his mouth to her centre. To simply be wanton with him.
Connor took the decision from her. Breaking the kiss, he stepped away from her, smiling ruefully.
‘As much as my mouth is watering for a taste of you –’ he kissed her gently ‘– I’ll not risk you being caught out here like that. There are too many people.’
As if on cue, a group of students out for the night walked by.
‘Thank you.’ It was a rasp, but that was all she could manage with her heart still racing.
He took her hand and kissed it before tucking it back into the crook of his elbow and continuing their stroll. Fortunately, they were only a block away from Luna Bella because she definitely needed a cold drink after that scorching.
Chapter Nineteen
Bridget watched as Connor pulled the hostess aside and slipped her what appeared to be a $50 bill. She smiled up at him and, with a quick grin in Bridget’s direction, led them to a private booth near the kitchen at the back of the restaurant. The booth was round with high-backed seats that would afford seclusion from the other patrons of the crowded restaurant. A small thrill went through Bridget; whether in fear or anticipation she wasn’t sure.
Connor’s palm rested on her lower back and she felt the heat of his sk
in against hers. Simultaneously she regretted and thrilled at wearing such a daring dress for the evening. With her back bare, she felt every inch of his palm and her skin tingled with awareness. Arousal made her breasts heavy and achy and she was very lucky that the designer had made this stunning creation with attention to details like built-in support for ample breasts.
Connor took her wrap and handbag as she slid into the booth and then, rather than sit across from her as she’d expected, he slid in beside her. Registering her surprise, he just winked at her and smiled that crooked grin that melted her every single time.
The hostess began rattling off the specials, pulling her awareness away from Connor, and she was grateful for the reprieve. She didn’t really know how to handle his blatant regard for her or, frankly, her wanton response.
She wondered what Claire would say now. After all of Bridget’s dramatics when they’d gone to buy lingerie, now here she was sporting nothing but a scrap of silk passing for a thong under this dress, a bona fide garter belt and stockings to boot, and feeling like the sexiest woman on earth. It helped that when Connor looked at her like he could eat her for dessert and still not be satisfied.
The image of Connor feasting on her body caused swirls of desire to fan out from her womb and she clenched. Her nipples tightened, and a flush spread along her skin. This dress may have support for a woman shaped like she did, but it was still silk; it didn’t hide her aroused state from him. She could practically feel his eyes on her and her embarrassed flush deepened.
Avoiding his gaze, she ordered a glass of white wine and waited as Connor gave his own order for a Guinness stout. She wished she could run and hide until she calmed down.
‘Bridget.’
His voice flowed over her, adding to her awareness of him, and her nipples went even tighter. The silk abraded the sensitive flesh and she had to fight not to squirm. She stared at the highly polished wood of the table top and simply ignored him. After her reaction to him in the alley, she was at a complete loss.
Reflection (The Chrysalis Series) Page 15
