Beneath These Chains

by Meghan March

  “But what if I want it to mean that?” Elle said, chin up and lips parted.

  The woman was sexy as fuck, and how could I hold out against that?

  “I guess I might accommodate you this time. Because right now, I’m dying to know how sweet that pussy of yours tastes.”

  If I expected my words to throw her off balance again, I would’ve been wrong. Elle strutted across the room to the back of the couch and hopped up on the top. She spread her legs, and braced her arms on either side. Her skirt rode up her thighs.

  “I thought you’d never ask.”

  All the blood in my body rushed to my dick when she wiggled so her skirt slid up even higher and I caught a glimpse of her bare pussy.

  “Fuck me, I can’t wait to eat that sweet little cunt.”

  If my crude words bothered her, she made no mention of it. Just the opposite—her smile widened.

  “All talk, so far … sure hope your skills are up to par, pawn star.”

  Every word out of her mouth was a dare, and it was time for me to show her how things were going to be. I stalked to the couch, shoved an arm beneath each of her spread thighs, and lifted her into the air. She yelped as I balanced her against my chest and strode down the hallway to my bedroom. I wanted her in my bed.

  When I reached my bedroom, I dropped to my knees and her ass hit the comforter.

  “Jesus, you scared—”

  “Hush. I’m busy,” I interrupted, pulling my arms out from under her thighs, dragging my thumb up the seam of her pussy.

  Her words trailed off into a moan.

  “That’s right. All I want to hear from you are things like more, right fucking there, and holy shit, I’m coming again. Everything else can wait until I’ve had my taste of you.”

  A shiver worked through her body, and I lowered my head, tongue darting out to taste. This time it was my groan that filled the room.

  “So fucking sweet.” I spread her open and wrapped my lips around her clit before flicking it with my tongue. Elle’s fingers clutched at my head, pulling my face in closer.

  Not a problem, sweet thing. I’m going to get as close as I possibly can.

  Her flavor was sweet and spicy, just like Elle. I breathed it in as I devoured her pussy, circling her clit and teasing her entrance with two fingers. The urge to plunge them inside her was strong, but I wanted to draw it out. I wanted her to remember the first time I made her come. I planned to give this woman so many orgasms that this first one needed to be epic in order to stand out.

  I worked her all the way to the edge, and her moans and orders to ‘let me come, goddammit’ bounced off the walls. When I slowed my pace, her scream of frustration told me I was close.

  I slid both fingers inside her and found her G-spot. The quiver of her inner muscles signaled that I didn’t have long before she’d detonate. I toyed with her clit before tugging with my teeth and sucking hard.

  Elle shattered with a scream.

  Mission. Accomplished.

  But I wasn’t quite done yet.

  Another man might take issue with the fact that he’d just given his woman three orgasms and she’d promptly passed out, but I didn’t have a problem with it. Actually, it made me want to pound my chest like King-fucking-Kong. Elle was in my bed, and she was comfortable enough to let go completely. That was a victory in itself. I carefully eased her up to the pillows, pulled off her skirt, and debated whether to try to get her shirt and bra off without waking her up.

  Her eyes flicked open.

  “Shit,” she mumbled. “It’s your turn. I suck.”

  Her choice of words made me laugh. “I think we can save your turn and any sucking for later. You want to sleep in your clothes or mine?”

  She didn’t respond, just tugged her blouse over her head, reached around to unsnap her bra, and shoved off her skirt. Her brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders, because as soon as her clothes hit the floor, she curled up into my pillow and closed her eyes.

  “Elle?”

  “Tired.” Her voice was a whisper. “Haven’t been sleeping much.” That last part came out on a yawn.

  In that moment, I wanted to tear Rix to shreds. I swore to myself he wouldn’t cost her another moment of sleep.

  “Then you sleep. I’m watching over you tonight. You’ve got nothing to worry about.”

  “I know.”

  And then she was out.

  If I could keep Elle in my life for half as long as the sight of her thick, red hair spilling across my pillow would be embedded in my memory, I’d be one lucky man.

  When I woke, it was to an empty bed. I did not fucking like that. I sat up and scrubbed my face with one hand.

  My first thought was: Did she bolt?

  And then the faint scent of cinnamon hit my nose, and the sound of running water came from the kitchen.

  What the hell?

  I swung my legs around and climbed out of bed. When I reached the end of the hallway, I witnessed the sexiest sight to grace my kitchen: Elle, dressed only in one of my T-shirts, reaching up to pull a plate down from the cupboard. The shirt rode up, exposing the bottom of the curve of her ass, and my morning wood turned into a monster hard-on.

  I said nothing, just enjoyed the view, scratched my stomach, and resisted the urge to grip my dick and stroke.

  Fuck. The woman was so goddamn gorgeous—messy hair and bare legs—it would only take a few pulls for me to be coming where I stood.

  Elle set the plate on the counter and turned to face the bar … and me. My waffle iron sat on the counter, which explained the good smell. I must have made a sound, because her eyes shot to mine—and a smile crossed her face.

  “Hey there, pawn star. You hungry?”

  As soon as her words were out, her eyes dropped to the tent in my boxers.

  “For food, I mean,” she clarified.

  “What if I want more than food?” I asked.

  Her mouth twitched into a saucy grin. “Everything else will have to wait for dessert. Waffles first.”

  My eyebrows lifted. “Did I even have waffle mix?”

  “Nope. I made them from scratch. Hope you like cinnamon … because I started shaking, and the lid fell off into the batter. I scooped out as much extra as I could, but you’re getting a mostly cinnamon waffle this morning.”

  I grinned. “Fine by me. Haven’t had a homemade waffle in … ever … I don’t think.”

  “Then I’m doubly glad I made them, because that just isn’t right.”

  She lifted the top of the waffle iron and cinnamon-scented steam wafted out.

  “Smells good.”

  Elle grabbed a fork and lifted the waffle out onto a plate before pouring more batter in its place.

  “I may be a mostly crappy cook, but one thing I can do right is cinnamon vanilla waffles.”

  “Vanilla, too? Shit. Almost worth waking up to an empty bed.” I came around behind her and dropped a hand on the counter on either side of her. Lowering my head, I spoke into her ear. “Next time, wake me, and I’ll help.”

  She didn’t respond, just leaned back against me. I counted it as a good sign that she didn’t stiffen and tell me there wouldn’t be a next time. Because there’d be a next time even if I had to tie the woman to my bed.

  “You better eat before it gets cold. Mine will be done in a minute.”

  “Your turn first.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. I’m not going to watch you cook and then eat before you. I might not have been raised with much in the way of manners, but even I know that’s a dick move.” I pushed away from the counter, intending to grab silverware, but at the word dick, her eyes dropped to that very level. It might have distracted me from my task.

  “Speaking of dicks…”

  Mine pulsed. Obviously.

  “Go sit your cute little ass down and eat your waffle before neither of us gets any breakfast.”

  She bit her lip, took the plate, and moved around to sit at the bar.

  I gr
oaned.

  “What?” Elle asked.

  “Your naked ass is sitting on my barstool, isn’t it?”

  Her shoulders shook with laughter. “Yep. Totally. Want to hand me a fork?”

  “Shit, woman. I’m never going to be able to look at that barstool the same way again, and you’re over there asking me for a fork?”

  “You’re the one who told me to eat first.”

  “I did.” By the time I’d set it in front of her, Elle was pointing at the waffle iron.

  “Yours should be done.” I lifted it and the waffle was perfectly golden brown. I spun to grab another plate, and this time it was Elle groaning.

  “Damn, you could totally bounce a quarter off your ass.”

  I looked over my shoulder, happier to see the smile on her face than I was to know she was checking out my ass with as much enthusiasm as I’d checked out hers. I was in trouble with this woman.

  I pulled a napkin out of the holder on the bar and dabbed at my mouth daintily. Lord’s brow furrowed.

  “I might have drooled a little,” I explained, shrugging. “I mean … that ass of yours is epic.”

  His chuckle filled the kitchen. “Same goes, sweet thing. Same goes.” His eyes lowered to my plate. “Now eat before it gets cold. We’ve gotta make a stop before we head into the shop. There’s a guy with a unique collection he thinks I’d be interested in.”

  I dug into my waffle. “What kind of collection?”

  Lord’s smile was sly. “You’ll just have to wait and see.”

  Cryptic.

  The man, with that damn Mona Lisa smile, slid his plate next to mine and joined me at the bar.

  We ate in companionable silence for a few minutes before Lord said, “I like this. Having you here.”

  “It’s certainly domestic.”

  “I’ve never had domestic, so if that’s what this is, then I guess I like domestic.”

  His words burrowed into me and took up residence with the warmth growing in my chest.

  “I’ve never really had domestic, either,” I admitted. “I guess I never really wanted it.”

  The clink of silverware against the plates quieted as we both stilled our movements.

  “Is that something you’re ever gonna want?”

  I forced a smile and met his intense blue gaze. “Way to put a girl on the spot.”

  “It’s not a tough question, Elle.”

  I looked back at my waffle and resumed cutting it into precise little squares following the lines of the waffle iron. I speared a piece with my fork and nabbed it off the tines. Chewing was good. Chewing meant I had a reasonable excuse not to respond to his comment. Not a tough question, my ass. I needed to lighten the mood. I wasn’t prepared to deal with heavy stuff this morning. I chewed slower and thought faster. Swallowing, I slid my eyes to Lord. He still hadn’t moved and was studying me. “If domestic includes falling asleep because I’ve practically blacked out from coming, and waking up filled with you, then I might consider it.” I lifted my eyebrows. “But since I haven’t experienced the second, I’m unable to make a definitive judgment.”

  His gaze heated. “You want my dick that bad? Need to ride it before you buy it?”

  Buy it? Well, that was a little extreme. But ride it? Ummm … yep. That sounded grand.

  “Do you expect me to say no? Pretend I haven’t been thinking about this since the first time I saw you?”

  His lips curled up. “You’re tempting as fuck, you know that?” Gratification flared to life within me. I was going to get what I wanted. His next words doused it. “But we’ve got somewhere to be this morning. Don’t want to be rushing shit when I finally get inside you.”

  I wanted to growl in frustration. “Seriously? You make me wait any longer, and I’m gonna have to take care of business another way.”

  Lord’s expression darkened. His fork clattered to the plate, and he shoved it aside.

  Whoa. What did he think I meant? I started to replay my words in my head, but got sidetracked when Lord slid off his stool and pulled mine away from the bar.

  “Those are fightin’ words, and I think we’re going to be a little late to our appointment, because I’m about to show you what you’ll get from me that you can’t get anywhere else.”

  Wait, what? Did he think…?

  “I didn’t mean I’d—”

  “Too late now.”

  I swallowed back a lump in my throat, but it wasn’t fear, it was … anticipation—because this little miscommunication might actually be working in my favor. Lord pulled me forward before tossing me over his shoulder. I expected him to head for the bedroom, but he didn’t waste that many steps. I bounced as I landed on the couch.

  “Good thing you didn’t bother with panties because I would’ve just shredded them.” My inner muscles quivered at his growled declaration. “Shirt off. I want you naked when you’re begging for me.”

  Quivered? Try spasmed.

  That much intensity, that much leashed power, staring down at me turned my limbs to goo.

  “I said shirt off, Elle.”

  I should be arguing, telling him not to tell me what to do, but goddamn if his orders didn’t make this so much hotter. At this point, I was ready to do anything he told me. Like drop to my knees and worship the hard-on bulging beneath his shorts. My mouth watered at the thought. I needed to get my hands—and mouth—on that monster.

  I grabbed the hem of the T-shirt as I plotted how to get him just as naked as I was about to be. I tugged it over my head and tossed it to the cushion beside me.

  Lord bent again, picking up the coffee table and setting it a good three feet away. The muscles in his arms, chest, and shoulders flexed and bunched. And good God … the man should not be allowed to look that sexy. It wasn’t fair. I was so, so screwed.

  He hit his knees, and his hands landed on my legs.

  And Houston, we have contact. Lord’s callused palms coasted up my thighs as he eased my legs open.

  “Fuck, you’re already soaked.”

  True story. And I was probably going to leave a wet spot on the couch. Good thing it was leather. Easy clean up and all.

  He lowered his chin, and the morning scruff on his jaw scraped the inside of my knee. Goose bumps covered my skin.

  “I get to eat this pussy two days in a row. You know what that makes me?”

  I shook my head.

  “A damn lucky man.”

  And then there were no more words because Lord gripped my thighs, lowered his mouth to my pussy, and feasted.

  He didn’t stop until I came twice.

  And I screamed his name both times.

  So fucking responsive.

  Elle was a goddamn miracle, and I hadn’t been lying when I’d said I was a lucky man.

  I’d planned to make her wait. Cement things with a few dates before I gave her what she’d claimed to want from the beginning, but now, seeing her so open and needy in her pleasure, my plan fell to shit.

  I was done waiting.

  I had to have her.

  Even through the haze of lust, I knew it was the right call. Dragging it out, using sex as the carrot to get what I wanted … wasn’t that just another form of control that would make Elle more likely to bolt? The thought hadn’t occurred to me until just now.

  Her eyes fluttered open, out of focus until they locked on me. My expression must have been a fuck ton more serious than I’d intended, because her brow wrinkled, and some of that easiness I loved drained away.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked.

  I didn’t want her thinking anything was wrong, not when everything between us was so fucking right.

  “Not a damn thing. Change of plans … we’re going to be very late to that appointment.”

  Elle blinked, not getting what I was saying for a few seconds. And then … realization. “Wait, you mean…?”

  “Done fucking around. I want you. You want me. No more wasting time.”

  She swallowed and nodded.

/>   I didn’t wait for any other sign that she was down with this plan. I leaned forward, slipped my arms under her legs, and lifted her up. I carried her the same way I had to the couch, except this time we were headed to my room. I lowered her onto the mattress and she scooted up to the pillows, laid out in the center of my bed. Naked.

  All the things I’d done in my life had led me to this moment, and I couldn’t regret a single one because they’d gotten me to Elle.

  My phone buzzed on the nightstand.

  Shit timing. I almost ignored it, but I needed to tell Mathieu to reschedule this morning’s appointment for later—much later. Reaching into my pocket, I pulled it out.

  A text from Mathieu.

  Dude is wondering where da fuck u at. What do I tell him?

  I glanced at Elle, who was studying me expectantly.

  “That better be important.”

  Spitfire. God, I couldn’t wait to get inside her.

  “Buying us a whole free morning.”

  She raised an eyebrow, then nodded in what I assumed was approval.

  I tapped out a reply.

  Reschedule for lunch.

  I dropped my phone on the floor, not bothering to wait for Mathieu’s response. If it pissed off the guy or he couldn’t reschedule, it didn’t matter. There was nothing more important than what I was doing right now. The world could burn for all I cared. Nothing was stopping me now that I’d made my decision.

  Elle continued to watch me. Waiting.

  The wait was over.

  I tugged my boxers off my hips and dropped them to the floor.

  “Thank the Lord,” she whispered, a smile playing on her lips even as her eyes widened.

  “That is my name.”

  “And so fitting … because Lord oh Lord.”

  A grin tugged at the corner of my mouth. Only Elle.

  She reached her hand up to her throat and trailed it down between her lush tits, across the curve of her belly, and then lower. She dragged her fingers back and forth above her pussy—as if my attention hadn’t already been on it.