A Bid For Love

by Michelle Houston

  It wasn't that she would mind the sex. He had never let her down in that regard, never used her as means to his own relief without considering hers. If she could separate the emotions, a booty call from his talented cock was just what she needed. It was the fear of falling for him again, of the intense craving he generated inside of her, until he became a drug she was addicted to, that made her leery of his intentions.

  About a month after she had walked out, news of the cancellation of his engagement came out. A few days later, a letter arrived in the mail for her. After glancing at near perfect handwriting, and lack of return address, she had shoved it into a box in the back of her closet alongside all the gifts he had give her. Despite her aching heart, she couldn't bear to throw away the notes he had written her, the pair of earrings he bought for her twenty-fifth birthday, the jewel collar with her name engraved on it and the other things he had given her over their time together.

  The blast of cool air as the driver opened the door brought her back to the present, and without needing to be prodded, she climbed out of the plush interior and met Ryan head on. He was standing there waiting, and a rush of arousal washed over her body.

  He was just as gorgeous as ever. Nose slightly crooked from a fight his junior year of high school, long legs encased in well-worn jeans, light eyes filled with laughter to a joke only he knew the punch line to, broad shoulders, and chest covered with the thin layer of a designer silk shirt.

  Hating herself for responding to him so quickly, she allowed him to cup her elbow and guide her into the house. As the door closed behind her, he spun her around and let her go. Standing just inside the door was a crate, the name of the auction house across it in bold lettering. Ryan followed the direction of her gaze.

  "In forty-eight hours, you can walk out of here with it. It will be sitting right there until then. If you don't trust me, I will show you the painting."

  Erika shook her head, "No, I trust you." She could have bitten her tongue the moment the words were out of her mouth.

  Ryan cocked a sardonic eyebrow at her, a humorless smile curling his lips. "If only that were true, but we both know it's not."

  Ryan moved away from her, heading into the living room. Feeling off balance, Erika followed him, uncertain what he had in store for her. As she entered the dark room, a spark of light flickered off to her side. Ryan quickly lit the candle and blew out the match. Using the long tapered candle, he moved around the room lighting the others.

  "Strip," he ordered as he moved about the room, his back still to her. Shrugging off her coat, Erika slowly pealed her T-shirt over her head and kicked off her sandals. Ryan finished his task and turned back around as she was sliding her jeans down her legs, baring her smoothly shaven pussy to the hunger of his gaze.

  He eyed her like a starving man staring at a T-bone steak. Suddenly self-conscious, she gathered her clothing and neatly folded it, needing some task to take her focus away from his stare. As she set her shoes on top, Ryan reached out and pulled the stack from her hand. "You won't need these for a while."

  Erika closed her eyes as he moved away with her clothing. Naked, she wouldn't be able to hide her body's reaction to him. Nor would she be able to gather the sense of shielding the clothing would offer. She was bare to him, in every sense of the word, and Ryan knew it.

  It was how he often had asked her to be. She would spend entire weekends not wearing a stitch of clothing as she moved around the house doing simple chores, or simply relaxing with him and watching TV. Other times, he had expressed no orders one way or another, and she would spend hours deciding just what to wear, what would please him the most.

  Shivering at the rekindled fires of her need to feel his fingers stroking over her body, she forced herself to remember the pain of finding out he was engaged. That he had lied to her, and had been seeing someone else, using her as a "fling" on the side. She often tortured herself, wondering if he had planned on asking her to be his mistress. She could understand the pressure of old wealth wanting to plan their children's nuptials. What kept her awake some nights wondering was if a loveless marriage was what his future held and she had known ahead of time, would she have agreed to such an arrangement? Would she have set aside her pride, and taken the scraps he could offer her, just to be with him?

  "Are you hungry?"

  Erika jumped as his voice sounded right behind her. She spun around to find him leaning against the doorway leading between the dining room and the living room, watching her. Somewhere along the way to wherever he had taken her clothing, he had removed his shirt and shoes, leaving him wearing only the jeans. Glancing down, she noticed the slight tenting of the material. A blush stained her cheeks as she looked up and caught him staring at her, a knowing look in his eyes. Brushing a lock of hair back from her face, she focused on a spot just over his shoulder.

  He had to have known the effect those jeans would have on her. If fact, she would have bet on it. Ryan in a tailored suit was gorgeous, but in relaxed clothing – jeans specifically – he was almost irresistible. Despite their sexual power dynamics, she had been known to jump him when he would come into a room wearing just his jeans.

  Forcing herself back to the here and now, where he was waiting on an answer to his question she shook her head no. She wasn't certain she could count a granola bar and a cup of coffee as a meal, but it was all she had been able to force down. Her throat had felt too tight to swallow anything anyways.

  Ryan stepped forward and cupped her chin, forcing her to look at him. His head tipped down, and he pressed his lips to hers, softly, tenderly. Erika wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and lose herself in the sensation. At the same time she wanted to shove him away and storm out. As his lips moved over her cheek and down her neck, she tipped her head back, and just let herself feel.

  She was to be his for the next two days, and despite her hatred for his actions, she realized she still cared, which made her heart ache.

  Closing her eyes, she relaxed against him as she came to the determination that this time, she would use him. She'd get her grandmother's painting for free, letting him foot the bill, and in the end, she'd walk away from him and not look back. She'd hurt him as he had her, as he still was. Because she was quickly realizing this weekend might very well succeed in tearing her heart out, just when she had started thinking about moving on.

  In what time she had with him, she was going to enjoy the masterful way he could play her body, drawing forth sensations no other man had managed, storing up the memories for when they parted again. When it didn't hurt so much, she would pull the memories out again, and savor them. As much as she knew being a submissive was an integral part of herself, Erica doubted she would ever find another lover that she fit with as well as she did with Ryan.

  As if he sensed her thoughts weren't completely with him in the present, Ryan's hand fisted in her hair and with a soft jerk, he forced her head forward, causing her eyes to fly open. Almost savagely, he kissed her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth as he used his other hand to pull her tight against his body, the hardness of his cock pressing against her stomach.

  Shifting back and forth, she rubbed her nipples against the warmth of his smooth chest, her pussy growing moist with the tactile touch of his body against hers. His free hand grabbed her ass, pulling her tight against him. The hand in her hair tightened, and he broke the kiss. Tipping his head, he nipped at her neck, sending a sharp jolt of pain straight to her nipples. Shivering at the dual sensations, she wanted to curl up inside of his body and never come out. Her body missed his, and she hadn't had a clue how much until this moment.

  His fingers, torturously slow, started their trek around her body, dancing over every erogenous zone along the way, until they slipped between her legs and cupped her sex. Erika trembled as he stroked a fingertip along the seam of her pussy lips, then delved inside. She knew he could feel how wet she was for him, and she flushed in embarrassment. She wanted to hate him, wanted to hate his touch, but her bo
dy was alive with need for him. It remembered his touch, and the masterful way he could bring her to pleasure.

  Bastard that he was, she knew he wasn't above using it to his advantage. She had no doubt she would find fulfillment with him, his ego would demand nothing less than that she come apart in his arms.

  As he stroked along her inner walls, a second fingertip joined the first, curling slightly inside of her body, caressing her slick flesh. Erika gasped as he thrust them hard inside of her, the hand in her hair tightening as he pulled her head back and bit the side of her neck.

  Trembling in his arms, her body betraying her, she could feel her juices trickling down her inner thighs as her anticipation built. It had been so long since she had been touched. Her body was responding to each brush of his skin against hers, each stroke of his fingertip as he pumped his two fingers into her pussy, then pulled them out, only to thrust them in again.

  Whimpering as her orgasm built, she bit her lip, trying to delay the inevitable.

  "You know you want to come, Erika. Why fight it?" Her eyes flew open at his words. He hadn't given her permission to come, and she had fallen back into the pattern of waiting for it. Satisfaction glinted in his eyes, mixed with something close to regret. Shaking off the fanciful notion that Ryan Carstairs had anything to feel guilty about, especially since this was his doing, Erica closed her eyes and arched into his touch, grinding her pubic bone against his palm as she reached for the release. A release her brain refused her.

  Her nerves wound tighter, her pussy contracting around his fingers, her body demanding the release from the pressure, but she couldn't come. Her eyes flew open in frustration.

  A humorless chuckle passed Ryan's lips, and then he whispered those sweet words her ears had grown to miss, "Come for me."

  The world flew apart as her orgasm crashed over her. Breathless, she collapsed against his chest, trusting him to keep her from falling, as he had so many times before.

  When reality returned, she focused her gaze on his chest as she awaited his next order. Her fingers itched to explore his body, remembering familiar and beloved patterns of touch. It was torture for her to be this close to him. It seemed to be a mockery of what they had shared. But if she closed her eyes and stopped thinking, she could almost fool herself into believing it was real, that the months of loneliness had been a bad dream.

  "Touch me," he growled against her neck.

  She reached between them and grasped the snap of his pants, undoing it and sliding her hands past the waist and down his body. Stroking her hands along his pelvis, she moved her way to his groin. Stroking one hand up and down his cock, she cupped his balls with her other. Almost as if her fingers moved of their own violation, they stroked him in remembered patterns, slipping past the ring of his ass and gently stroking over the ball of nerves just inside his ass.

  He pulled his hand from her pussy and cupped her right leg, coaxing it up and around his waist. His cock brushed against her smooth shaven skin as it sought entrance to her core. He rocked his hips, gliding his cock back and forth, coating it in the cream that still trickled from her body, evidence of her desire for him.

  Unable to hold back, she whispered his name softly, her body craving the feel of his cock sliding deep within her, filling her as only he ever had.

  With a muffled curse, he dropped her leg and pulled away. His pants pulled down around his hips, his cock swaying free, he awkwardly stalked away from her. Erika quickly adjusted her stance to catch her balance. Running a hand through his hair, he used his other to pull up his pants.

  Erika stood motionless, watching him as he headed out of the room, only to return a few moments later with her clothing. Tossing it at her feet, he said, "The painting's yours. Get dressed, grab it and get out. I'll have the limo brought around for you."

  "I don't understand." Ignoring the clothing at her feet, she tried to understand his sudden mood change.

  "I can't do this any more. Just go." Ryan dropped into the chair next to her, and leaned back, closing his eyes. Watching a defeated look come over his features, Erika moved closer and nudged him with her foot. When he opened his eyes and looked at her, she met his gaze head on. His eyes glistened with moisture, and for a moment she wondered if it was tears, before she shrugged the thought of that possibility aside as highly unlikely.

  "What changed?"

  "Damn it, woman, can't you take a hint?"

  "Why did you break off the engagement?"

  As his eyes widened, Erika knew she had hit a nerve. She hadn't intended to ask, and if she was smart, she'd grab the painting and run, but the look on his face was unlike any she had seen before. It scared her, how much it hurt seeing him looking like that. She ached to make him better.

  "You don't know?"

  She shook her head, wondering why he would think she would.

  "I know you got my letter. I sent it certified and got a receipt back."

  Remembering the envelope sitting unopened in the back of her closet, she wished in that moment to have it in her hands. Suddenly, she was dying to know what it said.

  "I got it, I just never read it."

  "Fuck!" Ryan exclaimed, his breath rushing out of him. Leaning forward, he set his elbows on his knees and watched her as he spoke slowly. "So you had no idea that I begged you to understand, that I explained everything about the engagement. How Cindy was desperate, how she just found out her father was dying of cancer and he wanted her taken care of, and how he always looked to me to do that. How she sent out the announcement, figuring I would support her, and pretend for the few weeks that remained of her father's life, since she couldn't tell him that she was already in love…with another woman. She was afraid the news would send him to his grave either mad at her or earlier than expected."

  The world dropped out from under Erika's feet. She collapsed on the hardwood floor, her bare ass against the cool wood. Reeling from the news, she didn't know what to say. A whole year she had hated Ryan for lying to her, and then to find out that he never had.

  "Why the painting then?"

  Ryan laughed softly, the mocking sound echoing in the still room. "I tried to forget you, to tell myself that you obviously weren't worth the effort, if you couldn't understand the desperation Cindy felt. I waited until the week after the funeral to send the letter, knowing you might need time to cool down and be willing to listen to me. So I waited to send it, then after I did I waited another week, and tried to call you. You wouldn't take my call, so I waited another week, then two, then a month, hoping you would finally call me. Waiting for you to reach out to me.

  "When I saw the auction, I remembered you and your mom trying to get all the paintings back. I got hold of the list of items up for sale, and when I saw the painting, I started thinking I could get you back in my life through it. I was going to seduce you, remind you how good it was between us, hopefully make you want to stay, and if you still hated me, then I'd walk away like you did. But I couldn't do it."

  Feeling the sting of tears in her eyes, Erika blinked rapidly, her chest tight at the pain in Ryan's voice. Her proud lover, the strongest man she had ever met seemed lost. Looking into his misery-filled eyes, she couldn't stand the distance between them any more. Her nature demanded she comfort him.

  She ached to hold him pressed tight against her chest, to stroke her hands up and down his back as she soothed the pain away, but feared that he wouldn't welcome it. Not because he didn't want her touch, but because of the man he was; the strong dominant personality traits that she loved so much made it hard to know just what would comfort and what would offend him, even if only subconsciously.

  Climbing to her feet, she closed the distance between them and knelt between his parted legs. As his eyes lightened, more of the man she knew him to be returning, she had an idea of what to do to completely ease him. Her hands lifted to the snap of his jeans. Ryan jerked as she pulled the material down, baring his cock. Slowly, she tipped her head and laid her face against his inner thigh, her b
reath whispering across his flesh.

  She held herself motionless for an eternity, fearing she had made a mistake. She wanted to show him her devotion, to remind him that he was strong. Eternity passed until his hands settled on top of her head and he stroked his fingers through her hair. She wanted to do more, but it wasn't her way to initiate. As it was, she had stepped outside of her bounds with him, but hoped he would understand the nature of her offering. Kneeling before him was the ultimate submission she could make. Pressing her bare skin against his the ultimate comfort she was able to offer.

  She could hear the gentle rasp of his breath in the stillness of the living room as he stroked her hair, smoothing the strands along her shoulders. He slid his hand down her neck, and gently pushed against the line of her spine until her lips pressed against his cock. She could pull away; his touch was light enough she had complete choice and could stop this at any moment.

  Instead, she opened her mouth and sucked the tip in and worshiped him with her tongue, rolling it over the slit and down along the edge of the sensitive bulb. His hand fisted in her hair as his hips lifted, guiding more of his length into her mouth.

  Sucking him deep, she applied all of her skill to showing him her forgiveness, knowing if she tried to tell him how she felt while they were both still reeling it could potentially backfire. He knew her body better than she did. Naked before him, she was an open book; all he had to do was read what was there.

  Just kneeling before him, she knew she had showed him something. It implied a trust. He was the first man she had completely submitted to, and the first night that she had knelt before him, and allowed her hands to be cuffed to her ankles, her neck wrapped in a collar, she had shown him the depth of those feelings. He had fucked her mouth that night, the first time he had come without bringing her to orgasm first, and she had reveled in the sensation of his juices flowing down her throat, knowing she had brought him to that pleasure.