Taken_by_Chance_ARe_June14

by Chloe Cox

  As it stood, he didn’t want her to feel insecure about their arrangement, he just wanted her to think before she did things, but he wasn’t good with words the way she was. He did better with actions.

  He grabbed her by the waist and took her mouth in his, the first touch of her tongue reigniting his hunger for her all over again. It never really went away, but just touching her was enough to make him burn for her, brighter each time. She tasted so sweet, and yielded to him so well, giving back with just the right touch of pressure, just the right sensation on her lips…

  It was just supposed to be a little possessive kiss, something reassuring, but it needed more. He pressed her to him so he could feel her breasts on his chest, fisted his hand in her hair, and took his fill. When he felt her skin go hot he pulled away, licked her bottom lip, and let her go.

  “Ok?” he asked.

  Lena smiled faintly, her fingers going to her swollen lips. She seemed a little dazed. “Um, yes. Ok. Definitely ok.”

  “Ok. Now that’s settled, tell me why you were confused back there, before I get distracted by that body in that dress. At least until we get in the door.”

  “What?” she said.

  Chance smiled to himself. Yeah, she had that effect on him, too. Good to see her get a taste of her own medicine.

  “You said Cigna confused you, sweetheart.”

  “Oh, right. Well, I just wanted to get it over with, you know? So I was like, ‘Just take the freaking picture, get it done, I’m standing right here.’ But he didn’t want a close up or whatever picture I offered him. He was taking photos as I walked up to him, but it was like he was taking B roll.”

  “What’s B roll?” he asked as he walked her back to Volare.

  That got a smile. Hell, if it got a smile like that every time, he’d sign up for a full education in Lena’s school of L.A. knowhow.

  “It’s like in documentaries. When some expert’s talking about an artist, for example, they show B roll of the artist at work, because five minutes of watching anyone talk is insanely boring. So they shoot the guy mixing paint, or preparing his canvas, or literally anything related that’s more interesting than a talking head—all of that is B roll. And for still photography, sometimes they’ll do candids. Like, everyday life.”

  Chance looked down, his mind turning her explanation over, trying to figure out why that worried her.

  “So what’s his A roll?” he asked, holding the gate open for her.

  “Exactly,” she said. He thought he saw her shiver.

  chapter 12

  Lena glared at the blinking cursor on her laptop and tried very hard to ignore her phone. It was, she was sure, mocking her. Her laptop was full of good things: her work, her progress. Her phone…

  That was something else. Her phone had become the enemy.

  For lack of a better word, she’d been inspired since coming to stay at Volare. Something about the energy of the place, and the energy of Chance—and the energy that Chance put into her, on an impressively frequent basis—made her feel completely uninhibited. Or as uninhibited as she was ever likely to feel, anyway. The result had been a burst of creative brilliance where she’d figured out the major problems in her latest screenplay and had set out to rewrite the entire thing, top to bottom. In only a few weeks. And now she only had one key scene left.

  So why couldn’t she write it?

  It wasn’t because she was worried about any of the usual things. This had been like a dream vacation. She wasn’t worried about her career; she hadn’t been online in forever and she wasn’t even thinking about money, though she knew she probably needed to kind of soon. But when she was with Chance, when she was hanging out with Adra, playing pool with Ford, the club’s blond-haired, gorgeous lawyer, or meeting any of the other people in this incredible place, she felt accepted, at home, relaxed. Small miracle, really. She would actually let down her guard.

  Until she’d get another text.

  There had only been a few of them, and she didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, not only because she was still mindful of the boundaries of her arrangement with Chance, but because, frankly, she didn’t want them to be a big deal.

  But she did wonder how Paul Cigna had gotten her phone number. She assumed it was Paul, anyway. She didn’t want to think about whether there could be anyone else in the mix.

  He would run out of steam soon. She was sure of it.

  And in the meantime, he wasn’t going to ruin what she had going here. Because for all the rancid, foul speculation about her personal life outside the Volare compound walls, this whole venture had changed her. Was changing her.

  Chance was changing her, in all the ways she’d hoped he would.

  She’d never been more sexually fulfilled. There hadn’t been as much of the whips and chains as she’d thought there’d be, at least not yet—it felt like he was getting her used to being controlled. And she wasn’t just getting used to it, she was getting to love it. She felt like she was more of herself now that he’d allowed her to become fully her.

  He’d made every effort to get to know her. Lena was very conscious of constantly being under his surveillance, even while trying to respect her privacy, of how he looked for clues to her hang-ups and desires in every thing they did together—watching her favorite movies (he’d sat through Thelma and Louise and he’d laughed all the way through The Producers), playing scrabble, going to a batting cage, whatever. Whenever she caught him looking at her like that, it felt like foreplay. And it felt more and more like she was right to feel like she could trust him.

  In fact, at this point, just the thought of the man got her wet. And the fact that he’d told her that would happen? That he’d get a freaking Pavlovian response out of her? That he could eventually get her to come on command?

  She squirmed in her seat and tried not to smile. No way she was getting a dramatic scene done now.

  “Almost done?”

  It was Chance. He stood leaning against the open door of her little writing room, his plain white shirt stretched tight over his shoulders, his arms crossed and his eyes smiling. God, even his muscles had muscles. Lena kind of spaced out at the sight of him for a moment before she remembered all the notes she had all over the office he had given her.

  Yeah. He’d given her an office.

  Which she was actually insanely protective of.

  “Oh man, please don’t ask,” she said, unaccountably embarrassed. She scrambled to flip over note cards and close her laptop, stowing it at her feet as though people might telepathically read her work if they could see it. She knew it was nuts. It was even more nuts because it was Chance who’d had the foresight to bring some of her writing stuff over, sparing her another encounter with Paul Cigna, which was achingly sweet. “It makes me crazy to talk about stuff I’m working on while I’m working on it. I know it doesn’t make any sense, but it just is.”

  “That’s pretty cute, you know that?”

  She scowled at him.

  “Was that a look?” he asked, eyes bright.

  Uh oh. Honesty, or…?

  “Maybe,” she said.

  Chance pushed himself off the doorframe with no apparent effort and walked towards her. He pulled her chair aside and crowded her until her butt bumped against the desk behind her.

  He had that look again. That hungry, dominant look.

  Her body betrayed her entirely. Her nipples hardened into little peaks, visible even through her bra, and if she thought she was wet before…

  Chance bent his head with a quick, athletic grace, and she heard him inhale.

  He was smelling her.

  “You are sweet,” he said lazily, his head coming back up. “Take off your shirt.”

  Lena’s blood rushed south, but her eyes immediately went to the open door behind him. It was really, really open. She could see the hallway circling around the open space looking down on the first floor below, the floating staircase on the opposite side, even into another room on the other s
ide of the building. And if she could see out, anybody could see in.

  Chance had told her this was a possibility, but they hadn’t done anything in public yet. Not even in public places in Volare.

  She smiled, uncertain. “Don’t you want to have dinner first? Aren’t you hungry?”

  “Ate already. Want to play with you. Take it off.”

  Play with her. Just the way he said it, like she was his to toy with, whenever he wanted, wherever he wanted—her clit throbbed ever so slightly.

  Well, she was, wasn’t she? She had agreed to that.

  A small rumble in his chest got her attention. She quickly pulled her comfy old Led Zeppelin shirt over her head, looked up at Chance wearing only her black bra and a pencil skirt, and rode the sensation of adrenaline flooding her system.

  Then she held her breath.

  “All of it,” he said, frowning slightly, and with one quick twist undid her bra clasp. Her breasts bounced free while he pulled the straps over her shoulders, and just the movement, and the look in his eyes as he watched them move, made her clench.

  “Do you know how hot these are?” he said. “How insanely fuckable you are?”

  Chance played with both breasts, rolling her nipples in his fingers, kneading the soft mounds in his hands. He knew how sensitive she was there and knew just what to do with that information. She gasped, licked her lips, and tried to keep her head.

  “Chance, you know the door is open.”

  His eyes flicked up to her face, blazing with lust. “Of course I know,” he said.

  Deep. Full. Dom.

  “But—”

  “Strip,” he said, taking a step back.

  She got little chills from that voice. She only hesitated a little bit, but in that moment she took her eyes off him for an instant, looking at the direct line of sight between her and just…so many places in Volare, with that freaking door open…

  “Lena,” he said. “I’m giving you the order. Now.”

  Oh my God, oh my God, oh my God.

  She’d fantasized about this. She hadn’t tried to get him to do it, not only since that would take all the fun out of it, but also because of what he’d taught her about manipulating Doms. But fantasy was so, so different from reality. From knowing she was in plain sight.

  Then why were panties already soaked?

  She closed her eyes. “Yes, sir.”

  And stripped off her skirt and underwear in one movement, like ripping off a bandaid.

  “Eyes open.”

  She obeyed. His eyes killed her every time. Like there was absolutely no point in hiding anything from him. She was already feeling lightheaded, a sign that she was about to start floating off into what he’d called “subspace,” and he’d barely even touched her.

  “Sit on the edge of the desk.”

  She pushed some papers out of the way, thinking how silly it had been to be embarrassed about them compared to what was happening now, and perched on the edge of the antique sanded wooden desk. She jumped when the lip of the desktop pressed into her bottom, putting sharp pressure on her already swollen sex. Her skin started to heat up, and she knew she was blushing, or as close to it as she could get.

  Chance fondled a breast while he smiled at her. “Spread your legs for me. Keep ‘em that way.”

  Lena knew better than to check the door again, but she couldn’t help it. Chance pinched her nipple, hard.

  “Sorry,” she said hurriedly, and spread her legs as wide as they would go, hooking one leg over the corner of the desk.

  Chance whistled low.

  The air was cool on her exposed, wet folds, and her nipples had started to ache from want. She was breathing so fast she really was lightheaded now. She didn’t dare look at the door again, but it was there, in her peripheral vision. Open.

  And then someone walked by. Someone tall. Male. She couldn’t tell from the corner of her eye if they’d looked or who they were…

  “Oh God, Chance, they can see,” she said.

  “Yup. But I don’t think you get how you feel about that yet,” he said, and dipped one finger inside her, quick in and out, the sudden invasion forcing a moan from her. He held the finger up in front of her, where she could see that it was shiny and slick with her.

  “You see what I mean?” he said, grinning at her.

  Bad man. Bad, sexy, impossible man.

  “Touch yourself,” he ordered. “Make yourself come for me.”

  Her mouth fell open a little. This was new. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt ok doing that in front of someone. If ever.

  Lena’s throat felt dry, but she swallowed her fear and locked eyes with Chance. That right there sent little tendrils of pleasure curling through her core, and she licked her lips. Nobody made her feel like this. Nobody made it this easy.

  Slowly, she trailed her fingers down her abdomen, the muscles fluttering under her own touch just because it was Chance who demanded it, until she found her center. Oh God, was she ready for him. She reached her middle finger inside herself to wet it, and when she saw Chance’s reaction, her own muscles tightened.

  “Do it,” he said, his voice husky.

  His eyes fell to her exposed sex, and the muscles in his neck corded while he flexed his jaw. She knew that if she looked down she’d see he was hard. Bulging through his jeans. The thought of his large cock, hard and ready for her, drove her fingers to her clit. That first touch, with Chance’s eyes on her, sent a tremor through her.

  She moaned.

  “Faster,” he demanded.

  Lena obeyed, rubbing her clitoral hood over the highly sensitive bundle of nerves, each stroke pushing her higher. With her eyes half closed she took a deep breath, the spread of oxygen igniting pleasure in every nerve, and moaned.

  “Yes,” Chance said. “Come for me. Now.”

  And he reached up and pinched both her nipples, hard, pushing her over the edge into an entirely different kind of orgasm. Her scream strangled in her throat, her mouth hung open in a kind of shock, her eyes half rolled back in her head, and her abs jerked her forward, into his arms.

  chapter 13

  Holy mother of God, would you look at that.

  Chance wasn’t easily shocked anymore, hadn’t been in a long time. But watching Lena pleasure herself had left him awed. To see her unfold before him like that, each layer more beautiful than the last, and to know she did it for him? It set his body on fire.

  He’d been feeling her out for the past few weeks, gently prodding and pushing, assessing her needs, conditioning her to his control. She didn’t need much conditioning—she responded beautifully—but Chance wanted to make sure he had the right approach for her. So he’d been figuring out where her emotional land mines lay and how best to confront them before they delved into more intense scenes. He could sense already that her reticence and difficulty with certain things went beyond what Richie Kerns and Paul Cigna had done to her, even though the damage from that seemed to be somehow ongoing. He’d had a hunch about the vulnerability of public display, or even the hint of it, and it had paid off.

  There was something deeper at play. He’d get to it.

  But right now he was overwhelmed with the sight below him. With the smell of her.

  Lena’s beautiful honey skin was darkened with pleasure, her chest rising and falling with big, air-sucking breaths, her heart beating fast under his hand. She’d fallen forward into his arms and he’d gently lowered her onto the desk, keeping his palm on her chest to calm her and keep the connection between them.

  Her nipples were wine dark red where he’d pinched them.

  She was fundamentally gorgeous, splayed out there for him like that. Hell, all the time. And it was only about to get better.

  “Lena,” he said, putting his free hand between her legs. She’d instinctively draped one leg over the corner of the desk and the other over his shoulder, giving him full access.

  Good girl.

  When he rubbed the pad of his thumb gen
tly over her clit, she moaned—in pleasure, not pain. She was no longer oversensitive in the aftermath.

  Good.

  “Look at me,” he said, unbuttoning his jeans.

  She propped herself up on one elbow, still a little shaky, and opened her eyes. Immediately she looked at his heavy cock, thick and hard after what he’d just seen, and throbbing in his hand. The greedy look on her face made him twitch. He stroked himself once and then positioned the head right at her entrance, nestled in her inner lips.

  Jesus, still so wet.

  Lena’s chest heaved, with those beautiful breasts bouncing slightly, beckoning him.

  “Oh God, yes,” she said, looking up at him with eager eyes.

  He pushed her back down until she was flat on the desk and moved the head of his cock in slow, excruciating circles around her entrance.

  “Stay down, Lena,” he said. He wouldn’t tease her for long. Just long enough to get the point across.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, just a hint of a smile on her lips. He grinned. Just the kind of sub he liked.

  “I know what you need now, Lena,” he said, sinking into her, watching her chest rise as her back arched in slow, slow time with him. Her breasts were trembling by the time he was fully seated inside her. What a sight.

  “Yes, sir,” she breathed.

  Her hips rolled rhythmically, begging him to move. He grabbed hold of them with his big hands instead, his thumbs angled up toward her waist and his fingers wrapping around to her ass. He had a solid hold on her. She wasn’t moving without his say-so.

  Lena knew it, too. She groaned.

  “Look at me,” he ordered.

  Those hazel eyes always held him. Always.

  He pulled out slowly, saying, “Introduction is over. After this, we’re gonna get started.” He watched her eyes widen, wondering what he meant, and then he slammed into her.

  She yelped, fingers clawing at the papers on the desk while she squeezed around him like a warm, velvet fist. He watched her face while he fucked her with hard, deep strokes, slowly at first, picking up the tempo as her face twisted in that rictus of painful pleasure that he loved to see. There was nothing like fucking Lena.