“Consequences I’m more than willing to accept. An inevitable conclusion you need to come to terms with.” As she talked, her fingers were busy teasing over his tight sac. Her opposite hand lightly stroked his muscular thigh. A sunbaked rock beneath her palm.
“Hmmm.”
She had every intention of keeping him on edge. Compared to him, she was no expert, but she was a quick study and was sooo done with talking.
She flattened her palm between his cock and hard stomach, cradled his dick within the webbed curve formed by her thumb and forefinger, opened her mouth wide and deep throated him in one smooth motion.
“Fuck!”
Unable to hold him there for more than a couple of seconds due to his large size, she sucked hard on the way up, made another slow glide down and, hot damn, up went his hips again. A silent plea to take him deeper. A plea she’d answer after a bit more torture.
She backed off the slightest bit, shifted her hand to curl her thumb and two fingers around the base of his dick to prevent deeper penetration.
Her fingers didn’t meet. But she wasn’t about to complain. He filled her mouth like he did her pussy. Stuffed to the max. A feeling that could easily become addictive.
She relaxed her jaw to alleviate some of the tension and got down-and-dirty serious. She was in no particular hurry to give the man what he wanted. Not that she was vindictive, but he was so damn good at building her up before he finally allowed her to come, she was inclined to repay the favor.
Determined to serve him up a healthy portion of the sweet, sweet torture, she dug deep into her shallow well of patience and set a firm, steady pace with her mouth, occasionally bringing her tongue into play and adding a nip or two for good measure. The tensing of his thigh beneath her splayed palm proved the perfect gauge. She slowed down and sped up accordingly.
“You are so going to pay for this,” he growled.
A haze of delight enveloped her. “Mmmm, I’ll hold you to that promise,” she said just before tap-dancing the tip of her tongue around and in the slit at the top of his cock.
“Bitch.”
“Would you have me any other way?”
“Fuck, no.”
“Thought not.” She deep throated him again.
His entire body tensed.
She glanced up as she rode her way up his luscious cock to see his hands clenching the tubing of her headboard. His death grip made her thankful she’d invested in the strongest model she could find.
After several minutes of indulging her fantasies revolving around giving him the best blowjob he’d ever received, she finally took pity on his strung-out, sweat-covered body.
Changing her light grip to a full-out fisting of his steely dick, she rode her hand behind her lips. Up. Down. Tossing in an occasional twist of her wrist to ramp up his pleasure. Overconfident in her timing and ability to judge his body language, she was caught off guard by the sudden first hot splash of creamy cum that hit the back of her throat. She’d have to remember the man was apparently an expert at playing possum. The wily bastard.
“Don’t stop. Take it all, babe.”
Like she’d intended anything different. A little salty, a little tart. His flavor slid over her tongue and coated her throat. He tasted so damn good. “Mmmm.” She could suck on his dick for hours. Or until her jaw gave out.
“Umpf.” Or until his big hands gripped her under her arms and he yanked her up his body to crush his lips to hers.
Guess her being in control was over. Not that she minded. She loved the way he claimed her mouth, no apologies, just took. His tongue led, leaving hers no choice but to follow. And she was more than willing to follow his slightest command. So much so, her nerve endings tingled at the mere thought.
One firm pull of the fisted hair at the base of her neck broke the kiss. He pressed their foreheads together. “Damn, woman. You sure know how to drain a man.” The breathy statement wafted sweetly across her partially open lips.
“Plenty more where that came from.” She laughed lightly when her words came out as breathy as his.
“An offer I’m more than willing to take you up on. But not tonight.”
Before she could weigh in a protest, he ravaged her mouth once more.
When he pulled back this time, she was pretty much incapable of speech.
He kissed the tip of her nose and released the death grip on her hair.
“Time for a shower and then some sleep. Or neither of us will be worth a damn come morning. And I want you well rested and your mind sharp for our talk.”
Chapter Eight
Pierce lifted his head and peered over the warm naked woman in his arms to get a glimpse of the glass and chrome clock on the nightstand. Ten o’clock. Later than his usual early rise and shine. Sure, they’d gone to sleep after their shower the night before, but not until after another not so quick fuck-fest. Who could blame him? Presented with all that shimmering, wet silky flesh, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her. Or his dick out of her snug, beckoning bald pussy. Then there was the tongue-lashing. Damn, the woman’s taste melted over his tongue better than the imported rich Belgian chocolate he was so fond of. The mere thought of combining the two flavors—
Heather sighed and snuggled her lush butt deeper into his crotch.
Instant hard-on. No surprise there.
If he didn’t get up now, he’d be slipping inside her from behind. Not wanting to risk making her too sore for what he had in mind for the rest of the week, he bent his head to her neck, filled his lungs with her familiar womanly scent and carefully disentangling himself, sliding from the bed.
Heather woke to the heady smell of coffee spiraling its way up to her bedroom. She would have rather woken to a hard male body wrapped around her, but never a morning person, the aroma of strong, fresh-made java was a poor, but much-needed consolation.
And was that bacon? Yum. From the time she could remember, she’d always been a breakfast girl. The man sure knew how to please.
She smiled. Stretched. Took note of all the delicious little aches. Yep, definitely a pleaser.
After lounging a few extra minutes to allow her sluggish brain to click into gear, she sat up and dropped her legs over the side of the bed. On a yawn, she pushed to her feet, executed a few much-needed stretches, then headed for the bathroom.
Halfway there, she paused.
Shit, she felt as if she’d just slid off a horse after being in the saddle for eight hours straight.
Speaking of horses, the man was certainly hung like one. With the stamina of a bull. A killer combination in her book.
Her smile stretched into a full grin.
Exiting the bathroom after a quick wake-me-up shower, wearing only the silk robe she’d bought because it matched Pierce’s striking green eyes, she descended the winding staircase and followed the heavenly smells coming from the kitchen. Bacon, eggs, toast, coffee. Pure heaven to her olfactory senses.
The sight that greeted her stopped her dead in her tracks. The watering of her mouth had absolutely nothing to do with the wonderful food she smelled.
She could sooo totally get used to waking up to this the rest of her life. What woman wouldn’t want to?
A half-naked hunk stood at the stove, his wide back dotted with a few stubborn shiny drops of water, a towel riding low over his trim hips.
She clenched her fists against the urge to walk up behind him and…
Wait. What the hell was wrong with her? She had the man she’d lusted after most of her life at her disposal, practically naked, and she was restraining herself? Hell no!
She walked over to him, slipped her arms around his firm waist and pressed her cheek against his broad back.
“’Bout time. Almost overcooked the bacon waiting for your tight, skinny ass to get over here.” His tone was teasing.
What? Did the man have eyes in the back of his head? How long had he been aware of her standing there, ogling his cream-your-G-string body?
“First, w
e both know my ass is far from skinny. Second, I was debating whether or not I’d startle you. Be a shame to splash hot grease all over that pretty chest of yours,” she teased and closed her eyes to better appreciate the warmth of his flesh against the side of her face.
“No big deal. You just would’ve had to kiss and lick it all better.”
She caught a glorious glimpse of his thick hair-covered arm reaching to mound the crisp meat onto a paper-towel-covered dish on the counter next to the stove. “Attention addict.” She kissed his back.
The soft snick of the burner knob filled the silence as he shut off the gas, turned and encompassed her in a cozy embrace. She loved snuggling against his big body. Made her feel all protected and feminine. Not an easy task, considering her self-reliant tomboyish upbringing.
He gave her a squeeze. “What sane man wouldn’t crave attention from a beautiful woman?”
She smiled at him. Pressed a light kiss in the well-defined valley of his extraordinary pecs. Seems she couldn’t keep her lips off the man. Who could blame her? Besides, she was a die-hard chest and arm girl. The bigger the better. “You saying I’m beautiful?”
He kissed the top of her head. And to her delight, he seemed to be afflicted with the same lip-to-body disease. Yep, the perfect match for her. All that was left was convincing him. “Who’s fishing for compliments now?” A devious spark lit his eyes a split second before he smacked her ass. “Sit that cute ass down and I’ll serve you breakfast. But first…” He brought his hand up, cupped the back of her neck and lip-locked the stuffing out of her until she feared she’d turn blue from the lack of oxygen.
Lightheaded, she didn’t move until he gripped her shoulders and gently pushed her back a few inches.
“Go.” He turned her and sent her in the direction of the table with a jarring swat on her backside, ramping up the heat from the previous smack.
“Hey.” The protest burst from her lips, but she didn’t give him the satisfaction of turning back around. Head high, flesh tingling, lips numb from his powerhouse kiss, she moved to a chair and sat.
She sprang back up on a soft hiss.
Returning his self-satisfied smirk with a mild glare, she gripped the thick solid glass edge of the kitchen table and gently lowered herself onto the seat.
“Just a small taste of what you’re getting yourself into, brat. Consider yourself lucky you can sit at all.” He turned back to the stove. “This time.” The softly spoken warning drifted back over his shoulder.
Optimism sparked. Would he spank her today? She brutally doused the hope as she took several calming breaths.
No. No. No. She would not read too much into his sensual threat. Risk getting her hopes up only to have them dashed on the hard muscled cliffs of the man’s chest.
Too bad her pussy didn’t heed the warning. She clamped her legs together in an effort to hold back the warm fluid that threatened to flow.
A losing battle.
She bit her bottom lip against the dooming moan battering to escape. Successful on that front, she knew the small dark spot on the back of her silk robe would herald her state of mind as clearly as an electronic billboard on the inbound I-90.
Mentally debating several plausible lies for the wet robe, she welcomed the distraction of the steaming aromatic coffee that appeared under her nose.
“God, that smells good.” She greedily latched on to the oversized mug and took a tentative sip of the strong brew. Yet another thing they had in common. “Mmmm.” She shut her eyes. “Exactly the way I like it.” She glanced up to see him staring at her. “What?”
“That look of appreciation.”
“What about it?”
From the shit-eating grin on his face, she’d a fair idea what was coming next. “I saw that same look a time or two last night, only more intense. Right after every orgasm.”
Yep. Predictable male mentality. She leaned back, setting down her mug. “Pretty proud of yourself, aren’t you?”
“Any reason I shouldn’t be?” Up went those amazing arms, crossing over his equally amazing chest.
Sidetracked by bulging biceps and twin mountains of prime naked pecs, she momentarily lost her train of thought.
Her gaze lifted to his twinkling one. “Nope. No reason at all.” She picked her mug back up and brought it to her lips to cover her smile.
“Didn’t think so.”
“Hmmm.” She kept her response noncommittal. After all, what could she say? No disputing the truth. He’d earned his moment of smugness.
He cut her viewing pleasure short, lowered his arms and turned to the stove to plate up their food, treating her to a nice rear view.
She’d always been enamored by his physique. She could sit and stare at it for hours. He was male perfection in its rawest form. It took a lot of hard work and dedication to have a body like that. But Pierce never did things in half-measure. Not even when it came to pleasing a woman. The small taste she’d had of it last night only left her craving more.
Unfortunately all that stubborn determination spilled over into his convictions as well. Hence, his commitment phobia. Problem was, the more Heather had learned about Pierce’s father, courtesy of her insatiable curiosity and talent for snooping, she wasn’t so sure his mother was quite the faithless whore his dad had painted her. In actuality, it might’ve been the other way around. But until she had some cold hard evidence, it wouldn’t be fair to reveal her suspicions.
Pierce set breakfast in front of her, the appetizing aroma made her stomach growl. “Jesus, are you a closet chef or something?” She stared down in amazement at the healthy portion of fluffy scrambled eggs and crisped to perfection bacon on her plate and a stemmed goblet of symmetrically diced fruit next to it, which made her glad she’d recently gone grocery shopping. He’d even pilfered a single rose from the extravagant bouquet he’d given her last night and angled it over the top edge of her plate. Showoff. She would’ve just slapped the food on a plate and tossed some hacked-up cantaloupe in a bowl.
“All part of the total package, sexy. I told you I take care of my women. Eat.”
Heather picked up her fork, tempted to reach over and clunk him on the head with it and say, Woman, bonehead. Singular. Instead she breathed an internal sigh and filled the utensil with a generous helping of the awesome-looking eggs and stuffed her mouth. Whatever aggravation she was feeling instantly faded. “Ohmigod,” she said after she swallowed. “These are incredible.”
“Good?” He sat down across from her and dug into his own breakfast.
She shook her head. “Fantastic. They’re the consistency of cotton candy. Where did you learn to cook like this?”
He shrugged those big wide shoulders, looking a bit embarrassed.
Could he be any more adorable? He looked more like a little boy than the confident, dominant man she knew him to be. Damn, she loved the man and the many facets of his personality.
“From our cook, Doris. I used to love spending time in the kitchen, watching her whip stuff together.”
Of course he liked hiding out in the kitchen. For the same reason he spent so much time with her and her brothers at their house. To escape the drama between his parents. Her heart went out to the little boy he’d been.
“She said if I was going to be taking up space in her kitchen, I might as well make myself useful and learn something along the way.”
She sensed he didn’t want to elaborate further and let the short conversation lapse into a companionable silence as they both devoured their meals. Lord knew they needed the nourishment with the nearly nonstop sexual marathon they’d indulged in last night. They must’ve burned a gazillion calories. And if their conversation this morning went the way she hoped, she’d need a major refuel.
As soon as Pierce’s plate was clean, he pushed it aside and scooped up his empty mug. “Refill?”
“Sure. Thanks.” She handed him her mug. His hand swallowed it. She made a mental note to shop for some supersized ones.
Minu
tes later, he set her coffee in front of her, sat, leaned back in his chair and watched her.
His unwavering stare should’ve unsettled her. Would have, if not for the fact his focus was more observational than critical. Whatever he was searching for, she hoped it was pouring off her in waves.
He clicked his fingernail against the thick smoke-glass tabletop. Ducked down to peer beneath the table. When he sat back up, he asked, “So tell me, babe. Is there a hidden switch somewhere that turns this sucker clear?”
“What?” She nearly choked on a bite of bacon as her cheeks heated.
“What part of I read your diary didn’t you understand? Any more volumes tucked away I should read?”
“I…”
“Quite the devious imagination you have. Very inspirational. I’d hate for you to miss out on any longed-for fantasies. It’ll be fun to see how many we can fit in over the next two weeks.”
“Wait. Are you saying—”
“Yep.”
“Two whole weeks together. Here?”
“Nope.” He shook his head. “I’d planned to head out early tomorrow for the cabin. How’s your calendar?”
“It’s good.” Even if it hadn’t been, she would’ve moved heaven and earth to make it happen. “Where are we going?”
“Stand up.”
When she didn’t immediately comply, he frowned.
Shit. She scrambled to her feet.
“Drop the robe.”
A quick yank on the tie at her waist, a slight shrug and silk met wood in three seconds flat.
His frown eased. With his finger, he indicated the space between his legs. “Now, bring that gorgeous hairless pussy over here.”
No way was it a request. Her body responded accordingly. Head high, pussy thrumming, nipples leading the way, she took the few steps that placed her exactly where he indicated.
His warm hands encompassed her waist, warming every inch of flesh they covered. The touch of his lips in the valley between her breasts set off a chain reaction of sensations. At the top of the list—unrequited need. She was determined to be everything he wanted his woman to be. Accommodating, willing, even a flat-out sexy bitch when the occasion warranted. She instinctively knew he’d never want an all-time yes-girl. A strong man needed a strong woman able to take what he dished out, bend when the situation warranted—especially in regards to sex—but never break. She intended to be that woman.
Restrained and Willing Page 9
