On Wednesday she’d gone shopping for a new wardrobe. A friendly chat with a young woman behind the counter of an adult toy shop had netted the name of an upscale boutique on the near Eastside. The mention of the woman’s name to the saleslady there had gained her entrance to its private back room. The large, awe-inspiring space was filled with clothes and accessories one would never find at the local malls.
Heather had spent a small fortune there.
The thought of Pierce’s reaction when he saw what she’d bought made every penny spent worthwhile.
That is, if he ever actually did see it.
Or her newly waxed pussy.
Today was Friday and in anticipation of being with Pierce, she’d booked herself for a half-day at the spa for a much-needed manicure, pedicure, hot stone massage and waxing in the hopes he’d call.
She expelled a long sigh. Took another refreshing swallow of iced tea.
Ah, well. Maybe he needed a bit more time to—
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the red light blinking on her answering machine. As tech-savvy as she was, she liked the old-fashioned dependability of a landline.
She placed the half-empty bottle of tea on the granite counter and pressed the button to access the call.
“Heather, this is Pierce.”
During a prolonged pause, a breath hitched in her throat.
“I’ve read your diary.”
She inhaled, taking pity on her starved lungs.
“I’ll be picking you up at eight o’clock for dinner. Be on time.”
The command in his voice made her heart race.
“Since most women own a little black dress, I’ll assume you have one. Wear it.”
She captured her lower lip between her teeth.
“Nothing else.”
Her knees threatened to buckle, even as her panties became damp.
“You’re intelligent enough to know what I expect. If it’s more than you’re willing to give, keep the condo dark. I’ll leave and we’ll go on as before.”
The message ended with a soft bleep.
Go on as before! The man was delusional if he thought that to be true.
She’d waited far too long to get a taste of those full sensual lips. Run her hands over those acre-wide shoulders and all those beautiful bulging muscles covering his sexy body. To experience firsthand the feel of that huge luscious cock sliding deep inside her, stretching her, satisfying her the way he did those two women in the video she’d pilfered years ago.
Heather glanced at the clock.
Six hours.
Plenty of time.
A silly grin took up residence on her face.
* * * * *
Pierce pulled his midnight-blue Mercedes up to the curb in front of Heather’s condo and shut down the engine. Any lingering doubts about her wanting to be with him were obliterated by the gleam of lights blazing through every window facing the street. With a few added candles to boot.
He gave his diamond-studded watch a cursory check. Right on time.
Unable to suppress a grin, he reached across to the passenger seat and scooped up the two-dozen fiery-red roses whose potent aroma had been competing with the smell of new-car interior for the last half-hour.
Once out of the vehicle he took a deep breath of cool fresh air and made his way to her front door.
“It’s Pierce, sweetheart. Let me in,” he said when she answered the intercom buzzer. There was a wealth of meaning behind that request. He wanted in her apartment, in her arms, in her mind, and his dick buried deep inside her lithe body.
She waited at the top of the stairs. The short black dress that slashed across the top of her tanned trim thighs jump-started his lust.
If they’d had an established relationship, he would’ve walked up to her, drove his tongue between her lush red lips and his fingers deep inside her warm, dewy pussy.
“You look gorgeous.” He stopped two steps below her, putting them at eye level.
“Thank you.”
Pierce hid a smile at the hint of a quaver in her voice. His little tomboy harbored a bit of insecurity. A reminder that he needed to put a temporary harness on his escalating desire. Slow things down a bit. At least for tonight.
“Let’s go in. Get these in water.” He handed her the flowers.
“They’re beautiful.” She gathered the bouquet into her arms as she moved aside to let him enter, closing the door behind him. She brought the flowers up to her face. “Mmmm. They smell wonderful.”
“Glad you like them.” He moved in close, bent his head to the crook of her neck. Drew a deep breath. “But they don’t compare to how wonderful you smell.” He stepped back, looked into her expressive face and smiled. “Nervous?”
After the slightest hesitation, she shook her head. “No.”
He raised a brow.
“Yes. A little.” She lowered her lashes.
He drew her chin up with light pressure from his fingertips. Met her gaze. She had the most beautiful brown eyes. Deep, glossy pools replicating the world’s richest chocolate, they revealed so much of what she was feeling. If one were experienced enough to know what to look for. Like he did. “It’s okay. I expect you to be a little nervous. We’ll take it slow.”
“But I don’t want you to tak—”
He placed a finger over her lips. “Shhh.” Tapped. “First thing you need to learn is it’s not up to you. You gave up that right when you unlocked the door.” He canted his head in the general direction of the gaping doorway. “Now it’s my turn to unlock a few doors. Doors that will allow you to listen, accept, obey without question. None of which can be taught in a single evening.”
Pierce could see she wanted to say something by the slight firming of her lips. To her credit she held back. He leaned in and kissed her. When she sought a deeper union, he stepped back.
“I think before this goes any farther we need to get something straight between us. You’ve known me for a very long time. I’ve made no secret of how I feel about commitment. I’m not looking for—”
This time it was she who put a finger over his lips. “I know. You’re commitment phobic.” She gave him an eye roll and small smile. “You don’t have to explain it to me. As you said, I do know you well.”
Pierce looked into her candid, shimmering brown eyes. He hadn’t expected to be let off the hook quite that easily. He mentally reviewed what she’d said. She’d pretty much covered all the important bases. But he couldn’t help but feel… Ahhh, hell, what was he thinking? This was Heather. True, his brat could be manipulative, but he doubted she was being anything but honest in this situation. No other female knew his hang-ups better than she did.
He cupped her cheeks with his hands for a quick kiss.
“Okay, then it’s off to the kitchen, before those wilt in your arms.” He turned her gently, placed his hand on her back and felt the slight stiffness as he guided her to the other room.
He grinned, safe in the knowledge she couldn’t see it. He’d give her an E for effort. She was independent, strong-willed. Not used to deferring to anyone. It didn’t matter what she fantasized about. It was the light playful tone of her writing that gave him pause. The main reason he’d deliberated so long before calling her.
No, you couldn’t teach a woman all about domination and discipline in a single night. But a single night was all a man with his experience in mastering women would need to determine whether Heather was cut out for the kind of lifestyle he indulged in. To conclude if she was serious or merely operating under a misguided belief it was all a highly sensual game played out between two adventuresome lovers.
He needed to make damn sure she knew exactly what she was getting into, because it wasn’t a game for Pierce even though he wasn’t a 24/7 Dominant. But during the time he spent with subs, or potential subs, he expected them to place their pleasure and trust completely into his skilled hands.
Another thing he took seriously was taking care of the woman who belonged to
him. No matter how temporary. A character trait that was built into a good Dom’s nature.
Halfway into the kitchen, he stopped her with a gentle hand on her shoulder.
“Where do you keep the vase?” he asked at her inquiring look. There was no doubt she’d have one. A woman as beautiful and caring as her would have received her fair share of flowers.
She pointed. “In that cabinet. Top shelf. The stool— Never mind,” she finished with a twitch of her lips when he walked over, reached up and withdrew it.
“Scissors?” he asked, moving to the sink.
“The drawer to your right. But I can do it.”
He looked at her over his shoulder as he filled the vase. “I know you can, but it pleases me to do it for you. It’s only fair I reciprocate. Especially since you’ll be doing so very much for me.”
She caught her bottom lip between her teeth.
An adorable habit. And a very telling sign. He’d rarely seen Heather this unsure. She usually plowed through life with the ferocity of a category F5 tornado. He kinda liked that he had this effect on her. It wasn’t a side of her personality she was prone to revealing. Raised by three don’t-fuck-with-us-or-ours jocks, she needed to be tough.
“I’ll take those now.”
She freed the flowers from the thick red ribbon binding them, set it aside and handed them over.
Giving each stem a slanted cut, Pierce placed them into the water. He didn’t bother turning around to say, “Raise your dress above your waist, sweetheart.”
Heather stared at Pierce’s broad back, the breath in her lungs stalled. No one had to hit her over the head with a club for her to realize this was a test. Inevitably, one of many.
She’d wanted Pierce since her budding hormones had blossomed. He’d treated her with the deference one reserved for a kid sister. Totally oblivious to the fact she was becoming a woman. Not even when she’d started wearing the shortest skirts and tightest tops she could find in an effort to snag his attention. Granted there’d been a few roadblocks, longtime family friendships and the seven-year spread in their ages. But the gap in those years had narrowed as she’d grown older. Funny how that worked.
She had fantasized about this for years. Dreaming. Hoping. Lying in bed at night with her busy fingers between her spread thighs, imagining the fingers were his. But was she ready to turn all her fantasies into reality?
Hell yes!
She lowered her hands, gathered the hem of her dress in her fingers and inched it up her thighs until the stretchy fabric was crinkled at her waist. She waited.
And waited.
And waited.
When would he turn around?
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
Spread her stance the slightest bit.
And still waited.
Exposure aside, her hairless pussy was experiencing the cooling effects from the soft evening breeze flowing through the partially opened bottom window over the sink.
“Pierce?”
“Yes?”
“I did as you asked.”
“That’s nice.” He remained facing the sink.
That’s it? Nice!
This wasn’t anything like the hundreds of fantasies she’d envisioned, painstakingly written in her diary. Pierce was supposed to be consumed by lust the minute he set eyes on her. Kiss her. Strip her. Maybe spank her. Fuck her. So mad with desire, he was unable to keep his hands off her.
He said he’d read her diary. Did he have a comprehension issue? Maybe he was one of those speed readers who glossed over a lot. Too bad she sucked at art; otherwise, she’d have drawn some graphic pictures. Could be he was a visual guy. Like most men who professed to actually reading the articles in Playboy and Penthouse. Yeah, right.
Patience! Her silent reprimand was easier said than done.
She heaved a low sigh, closed her eyes. There was nothing to say she couldn’t make good use of her fantasies while she waited. No sense letting the fire that had been building since his arrival die down completely.
“Ow!” Eyes flying wide, Heather jerked her hand up. Away from her tingling mound.
“Did I give you permission to play with my pussy?”
“No.” She took note of the possessive term. “But you were ignoring me. And—”
“A simple, no, Pierce. Or, no Sir, will do.”
She sealed her lips against an automatic retort. Quickly counted to ten. “No Sir.”
He framed her face with his hands.
He didn’t say anything for long moments. His green eyes intent, his slightly rough thumbs stroked over her cheekbones.
She wasn’t sure exactly what he was looking for, but she kept her gaze steady, her body relaxed. She was nervous about the situation. Not about being with Pierce. Making love to him. Her nervousness stemmed from disappointing him. Herself. Unwittingly doing something that would send him walking out the door.
Distracted, it took her a second or two to realize his gaze cleared and there was a smile in his eyes.
She smiled in return.
His hands guiding the rotation of her head, he kissed her forehead, the corner of each eye, her temples, each cheek, her nose. Between one sweep of the second hand on the wall clock and another, he claimed her lips.
It was everything she’d dreamed it would be and so much more.
Alternately soft and hard. Passive and possessive. The sure hot strokes of his tongue when it slid between her lips to pillage her mouth set off a steady string of tiny flares throughout her body.
“Mmmm. Pierce.” Her soft moan echoed through their joined mouths.
He rotated her head to the side, deepened the kiss. Gentleness falling by the wayside.
His lips were a hard press. Teeth clicked. Tongues met in a desperate, wet dance.
No tentative exploration.
Just hot masculine assertion.
Even without his muscular width blocking the cool evening air drifting past the sill, heat would have flared in her core.
In need of relief, she sent her hips forward in search of the hard ridge she knew would be behind those expensive tailored black pants he wore.
His hands slid to her waist, held her back.
She sought his gaze.
He touched his forehead to hers. Their combined accelerated breaths stabbing the narrow space between them.
His breathing leveled out first. A light pressure at her hips had her backing up to the kitchen island. A quick lift and her warm butt cheeks met cold granite.
She sucked in a breath. Gritted her teeth until the temperature neutralized. By the time it did, she realized her position. Naked below the waist. Her hands on his wide shoulders. Pierce standing between her widespread thighs. Looking down at her bald pussy.
Far from being embarrassed, his stare made her feel sexy and overtly feminine.
He trailed his fingertips over the freshly waxed area.
“You do this for me?” His head never lifted.
“Yes.”
“What if I preferred hair?”
“Do you?”
He chuckled. “Hell, no.” He flicked her clit and she sucked in a sharp breath. “Makes a woman more sensitive.” He looked into her eyes. “And I get an unobstructed view…of everything.” He tugged lightly on one of her puffy lips. Rimmed her moist opening.
She held still. Although it was killing her. Twice she’d attempted to deepen the contact. Twice he’d moved back. She’d learned her lesson.
He dropped to one knee.
She lifted her hands from his shoulders to indulge herself in something she’d wanted to do for a long time. Run her fingers through the top of his midnight-black hair. Thick, yet soft. It felt amazing. Unable to resist the disobedient little curl that always hung over his forehead, she twirled it around her finger.
Looking up at her, he smiled. “You do realize you’ll have to fix my hair before we leave.”
“It was worth— Oh God.” She nearly came up off the counter when hi
s tongue touched her clit.
He licked his way up through her pussy lips. Dipped inside for a teasing taste.
She clutched at his hair. Eased up when he backed off.
Screw going out to dinner. He could plate her up right now on the counter. Eat her into the wee hours of the morning. Not that she’d last that long. A couple more swipes and she’d be a goner.
He rose so quickly, if she hadn’t grabbed his upper arms, she’d have lost her balance.
“Ready?”
“Ready?” she repeated in a daze. She’d been ready for him to fuck her for years.
“Yep.” He grabbed her around the waist, set her on the floor and tugged her dress down. “I made reservations at Giovanni’s for nine thirty. I’ve been anxious to see it after the recent renovation.”
The excitement in his voice barely registered. Damn hard to relate to, when the only thing Heather was anxious for was the orgasm she’d been cheated out of. She glanced up at the wall clock.
“We have a little time yet. Wouldn’t you like to finish…”
“Normally, yes. In this case, it’ll serve as a light punishment for touching yourself without asking permission earlier.”
She was still processing that disappointing little tidbit when he drew her by the hand over to the table, pulled out a chair and sat. Producing a comb from the inside pocket of his suit jacket, he handed it to her.
From her position between his thick thighs, she stared at the small black tines, wondering how much damage she could inflict to his stubborn head if she applied enough pressure.
On a resigned sigh, she gently set his hair back to rights.
Hadn’t anyone ever taught him the merits of positive reinforcement as opposed to denial?
Chapter Four
Pierce deliberately set a light conversational tone on the half-hour ride to the restaurant. An easy trip to Beachwood, mostly highway, he could devote more thought to the sexy woman next to him than on the road.
He had a fairly good idea Heather expected him to demand she spread her legs so he could toy with the sweet, hairless pussy between her trim thighs. Her contemplation was apparent in the little sideways glances she’d cast him. Normally he would. It was near killing him not to. Knowing she expected him to toy with her, he decided to forgo the pleasure. Maybe on the ride home, depending on how the evening progressed. He’d known her for too many years not to be aware of her horrendous lack of patience. It would need to be curbed, refined. But not extinguished. Where would the fun be in that?
Restrained and Willing Page 3
