“Wh—” She fought to replenish her squished lungs.
“I’ll tell you exactly where you fit, brat.”
He claimed her lips in a kiss so hard and demanding that by the time he released her, her head spun.
His gaze was clear, focused, unrelenting. “You fit in my arms. In my bed. Beneath me as I drive my cock so far up inside your tight pussy I’m the center of your world.” He gave her a fierce squeeze and scooped her up into his lap. “Just like you are the center of mine.”
For one of the few times in her life she was truly speechless. She knew countless women who’d commit homicide without a blink to have this man say they were the center of his world. Heather fought the urge to squeal her joy, squeeze the stuffing out of him, kiss him until both their lips were numb, because as wonderful as his words were, they weren’t the ones she wanted most to hear. It slashed her heart to ask the next question, but screw having his permission, she had to know. She could forgive herself for being a coward once. Not twice. “Being the center of your world is a gift beyond measure, but what about your heart? Your commitment issues?” There. She’d put it out there, braced for the words that would cut out her heart.
His smile was so gentle, her eyes welled. Nice guy that he was, he was no doubt gearing up to let her down easy. Damn him. Nothing about this was easy.
“Let me up, Pierce, please.” She pushed against his rock-hard chest, needing some distance between his comforting heat and the intoxicating smell of his woodsy cologne.
His head shook as his embrace tightened. “Not a chance, sweetheart. You’re right where you were always meant to be, so you might as well stop struggling.”
Curse his rigid patience and commanding tone. She unlocked her elbows and relaxed.
“Much better.” He pressed a kiss to each corner of her mouth. “I learned something about my commitment issues while we were apart. Want to know what I figured out?”
He knew damn well she wasn’t likely to say no. She nodded.
“Turns out I never had a commitment problem.”
She snorted. Her eyes narrowed. “Were you drinking before I got here? Cause you’re the biggest commitment-phobic person to walk the planet. You’ve never given your heart to a woman.”
He shook his head. “Not true. And what I’m drunk on has nothing to do with liquor, sweet brat.”
Okay, this was getting weirder and weirder by the minute.
He brought his hand up to grip her chin.
Like she was going to let her attention stray from his now. Not!
“The reason I’ve never been able to give my heart to any other woman is because it was already committed—to you.”
Breath stalled in her lungs.
His smile was so tender, her toes curled in the practical conservative pumps she’d worn for her trip.
“I love you, brat. Discovered I always have. Guess it took you growing up for me to finally realize it.”
“You love me?” She couldn’t keep the wonder from her voice.
“Yes. I love you. With all my unworthy heart. Which is yours if you still want it?”
“Still want it?” Giddy with wonder, she slugged him lightly on his thick upper arm. “Just try to take it back. I love you, Pierce.”
He hugged her close.
She reveled in the tightness of his strong embrace, their combined heartbeats.
It was a long time before he released her, pushing her a little ways back. “Now that all the mushy stuff is out of the way,” he teased, kissing the tip of her nose, “how ‘bout we go up and test the strength of those hooks in your bedroom wall?” He waggled his eyebrows. “And I’ve yet to see that sexy leather outfit you keep teasing me with.”
She smiled, loving the way her heart tripped at the sexy tones of his deep voice, the underlying command in his words even though no direct order was issued. God, he was so intrinsically masculine, so powerfully in charge as he effortlessly tapped into everything that was feminine within her.
“Give me fifteen minutes to wash the travel grunge from my body and—”
“Speaking of travel. What about the job in New York?” His thick eyebrows nearly met over the bridge of his broad nose. “I was under the impression they were making you an offer you couldn’t refuse.”
“They did.” She kissed his frown lines and then took his lips in a long sweet possession. They were both breathing heavily when she pulled away. “But love trumps money any old day of the week. I didn’t accept the firm’s offer because it meant being too far away from my family. Most of all, too far away from you.” Before he could comment, she kissed him, hard, and scooted off his lap, instantly regretting the loss of his thick hard cock pressing through the thin fabric of her short skirt. “I’ll run up—”
“Strip here.” No request this time. A firm command.
Her entire body tingled with need as she bowed her head in submission. “Yes, Pierce.” She dispatched each article of clothing with slow teasing movements meant to entice. In line with her downward gaze, she could see the hard cock she’d felt while seated across his solid thighs was now straining so hard behind the zipper of his pants it was in danger of bursting free. Whoever thought a submissive didn’t have power needed a reality check.
He shoved aside her discarded clothes and shoes. “Turn and spread your legs.”
She swiveled, presenting him her back.
His large warm hands landed on her waist as he moved her a little farther out from him and to the right. “Bend over and grab your ankles. Before you shower, there’s the little matter of your punishment that needs dealt with. That way I’ll get to enjoy the nice red glow of your sweet ass as you wind your way up the staircase.”
A shiver of anticipation ripped up her body as she bent, wrapping her fingers around her ankles, leaving nothing to Pierce’s imagination. Not even her damp swollen folds, the direct result of the loving command in his sexy voice and his declaration of love.
Pierce didn’t think Heather could look more beautiful than she had before he’d left town, but she did. Whether it was because, in his stupidity, he’d feared he’d lost her. Or maybe it was due to him finally professing his love. Apparently the spell love cast was not to be underestimated or underappreciated. Damn, he didn’t think he’d ever get tired of looking at her, touching her. Not in everyday life or when in sweet submission. She had a face and body that would gridlock traffic and every precious inch of her belonged to him.
His to savor. His to love.
Always and forever. Including the day he slipped a big fat diamond on her slim finger and when they said their vows before a church full of witnesses. His—all the pregnant days before she delivered each of their children and the many wonderful days beyond.
But right now, there was one specific part of her he wanted to love and savor. The tempting, juicy pink sweetness between her trimly muscled thighs.
With that in mind, he reached his left hand between her legs, coating his index finger with the honeyed moisture clinging to her inner folds.
Her little sigh as she moved to ride the digit kindled a flame between his legs, making his dick harder than tempered steel. “No moving.”
A soft yelp followed by an immediate groan of pleasure passed her lips at the harsh reminder he landed on her right ass cheek.
God, she had no idea how all the feminine high-pitched squeaks and squeals she made affected him. All her little sounds of pleasure and pain that curled through the air and made his gut seize with his own building pleasure.
He soothed the reddening spot with a gentle rub as he plunged the finger he’d been sliding through her wetness up into her sopping heated channel.
She groaned and quivered.
Her sheath clenched around his finger as he twisted, pumped, gauging her increasing excitement by the acceleration of her breathy little pants.
Angling his right arm over his left, he delivered a resounding crack to the opposite cheek. Shoved two fingers into her receptive body, hel
d them firm within her depths until her shaking ceased and her inner walls slackened.
“I think six more smacks would be a good start to the evening. If the glow fades, we can always brighten it again later. What do you think, love?”
“Whatever you wish, Pierce. My body is yours.”
His little brat’s declaration had lassoed his heart and wrangled it to the ground with a hard thump. He rewarded her with slow caresses to her abused bottom. “Feminists worldwide would probably howl in protest, but seeing my handprint on your beautiful ass in all its red glory screams ownership like nothing else. And even that can’t compare to knowing you relish that ownership.”
He delivered the remaining six smacks, alternating where they fell, interspersing them with comforting strokes. All the while murmuring words of love and pleasuring her with his fingers, sprinkling tiny kisses and light nips over her vibrant-red ass.
When her vaginal walls began to flutter around his deeply penetrating fingers and her moans became louder, more strained, signaling her oncoming climax, he quickened the pace.
Faster.
More powerful.
Each stroke was deliberate now, easily gliding through her warm soaked tissues as he drove her relentlessly toward release.
“Please. Oh, damn, please. So… So close.”
“Now, love. Now!”
“Yes!”
Her scream of breaking pleasure was piercing, the decibels so high, so intense, for a moment Pierce feared for the safety of the huge windows flanking the street side of the spacious loft.
Noticing her knees wobble, he wrapped an arm around her waist, enjoying the thrums of her pussy walls around his embedded fingers as her orgasm crested and eventually began its descent.
He knew that with a few well-placed flicks over her sensitive clit he could easily bring her to yet another climax, so he purposely stayed away from that sensitive little bundle of raw nerves.
After all, the night was young and he had lots more planned.
At the last shudder of her sated body, he slowly removed his fingers, and using the arm he’d anchored around her waist to pull her closer, rolled her carefully onto his lap.
She immediately curled against his chest. “I love you.” The words were a mere whisper in the crook of his neck. He relished every single syllable.
“I love you too, my sweet adorable brat. And I intend to tell you often. I just hope you never tire of hearing me say it.” He kissed the top of her head and squeezed her close.
She pulled far enough away to look up at him. “Never. I’ve waited a long time to hear those words from you.” She placed her hand on his cheek.
The whispering scrape of her nails through his manicured beard stubble felt good. It was something she did often. He smiled down into her radiant open face. “Good. Because I have a lot of years to make up for.” He pressed his lips to hers for a kiss that promised a lifetime of love and unending commitment.
She felt so right, so precious snuggled against him, it took considerable effort to release her and coax her to her feet. “Time for your shower and to slip into that crotchless leather outfit you bought. You have fifteen minutes. Don’t make me wait.”
Her beautiful eyes went from slumberous, emotion-filled brown pools to swirling chocolate sass in a blink. “Is that a threat?” Her tone mischievous, lips twitching to repress a smile, she pivoted and presented him a fine view of her retreating form, the rosiness of her lush ass a beacon to his rising lust as she seductively wound her way up to her bedroom.
At the top, she stopped and looked over the rail. “Oh, I meant to ask earlier. Where’d you get that bruise on your jaw?”
He rubbed the tender spot she referred to. He’d no doubt he’d be sporting an ugly mud and puke-green rainbow in a couple of days. “Don’t want to talk about it right now.”
Her grin was devilish. “Justin always did have a mean right cross.” She winked.
Pierce crossed his arms over his chest and shook his head and watched until Heather disappeared into her bedroom, knowing damn well the sexy little witch was intentionally baiting him. Just like he knew she wouldn’t be dressed by the time he made his way upstairs. She wanted him to spank her. And he would. But not before he was good and ready.
Pity he wouldn’t get to see her in that damn crotchless outfit tonight. Ahhh, well. There’d be plenty of other nights. Perhaps her first night at Freedom Club. After he put the engagement ring on her finger. That way there’d be no mistaking who she belonged to.
And he had one more little surprise he couldn’t wait to share with her. The last entry in her diary. The one he’d written. He could barely wait until she read it. That particularly fantasy would definitely need to be played out at the cabin. Specifically, in the hidden cave beneath the waterfall at the back of the property.
Whistling softly, he rose to his feet and went to retrieve the wrist restraints he’d discarded earlier on the table in the entryway.
As he stopped in the kitchen to snag a bottle of wine and two glasses, he thought of a couple of other things they hadn’t gotten around to doing…like nipple clamps, trying out all the fixtures and toys in his personal dungeon at his house and her promised time for being in control. They’d now have plenty of opportunity to do all those things and many others.
By the time he was halfway up the winding staircase, his mind was teeming with all the endless tomorrows, endless sexy outfits and endless joy in the love-filled days ahead for him and his beautiful, precious brat.
She may have temporarily forgotten about all those interesting sexual entries in her diary, but he hadn’t—not a single juicy detail.
And he wasn’t waiting one more minute to start turning Heather’s vivid fantasies into hardcore reality.
About Tiffany Bryan
Tiffany Bryan lives in a suburb of Cleveland, where the only thing more fickle than the weather is her imagination. A late-life baby, born in the year of the Dragon and the youngest of three girls, she found boundaries were something to be tested instead of adhered to. Since she is happily married to a man who provides an inexhaustible amount of support, it was a fate-driven step from reading romances to writing them.
A staunch believer of including children in your life and not wrapping your life around them, she celebrates being an empty nester with the same enthusiasm she delegates to any new adventure. After her son and daughter left, Tiffany took the opportunity to do a little wing-spreading of her own and has since attained her scuba diving certification in the deep blue waters of Hawaii and filled the space in the garage where her daughters’ car once sat with a shiny new Harley.
Her creativity, coupled with her dare-to-try anything attitude, ensures when you delve into the pages of her books you are guaranteed an entertaining and steamy read.
Tiffany welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email addresses on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.
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Also by Tiffany Bryan
Bejeweled and Bedeviled
Ellora’s Cave Publishing
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Restrained and Willing
ISBN 9781419942051
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Restrained and Willing Copyright © 2013 Tiffany Bryan
Edited by Briana St. James
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Cover photography by Xebeche/Fotolia.com
Electronic book Publication April 2013
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