His fingers tightened in her hair and he pulled her closer. "Then that’s one more thing we both have in common, isn’t it?" He didn’t even give her a chance to breathe before he kissed her deeply, passionately, bordering on violently, and she returned it with equal fervor.
He broke the kiss and grinned at her, running his tongue across his lips. Breathing hard, he whispered, "Tell me more."
"More? About what?"
"I want to know all the dirty things you’ve done." His hand disappeared beneath the water and she closed her eyes as his fingers trailed up her inner thigh. "All of them."
She grinned, trying not to shiver as his fingers gently parted her pussy lips. "Why would you want to know that?"
"Because it turns me on," he growled. "It turns me on knowing how wild you are." He cupped her clit with his palm and released a hiss of breath as his fingertips slipped inside her.
"Oh God, Chris." She rocked her hips, pushing her clit
against his hand.
"Tell me, Kat," he whispered against her collarbone. "Tell me all the things you’ve done in the past."
She sucked in a breath. "I can’t…not while…" She gasped as his fingertips found her G-sport. "Not…"
"Not while I’m doing this?" he pressed a little harder to emphasize his point.
She murmured something in the vicinity of a 'yes'.
"You can’t remember?" he asked, his voice tinged with both arousal and amusement. "Or you can’t speak?"
"Can’t…" She gasped. "Can’t…fuck, Chris, you can’t expect me to…" She closed her eyes, letting her head fall back as his fingers moved just a little faster against her G-spot. "To talk while you’re doing that."
"I can," he said. "And I will. Because I love watching you like this."
She moaned with a mixture of frustration and spine-melting arousal.
"Ever been caught fucking someone?" he asked against her neck.
She struggled to understand the question. "I…once…yes…"
"Mile high club?"
"No."
"Done a video?"
She swallowed. Wet her lips, and tried to breathe.
"Come on, Kat, tell me," he teased, rubbing her G-spot just enough to destroy what little ability she had left to speak.
Taking a breath, she managed to say, "No, no videos, no-oh God, Chris, that’s—"
"Threesome?"
Whimpering softly, she nodded.
"Ooh, that’s sexy," he said. "Two men or two women?"
"I—" She gasped as his palm moved on her clit. "B-both." He must have been pleased with that answer, because his hand moved just a little faster.
Barely whispering, he said, "Ever had an orgasm in a hot tub?"
Her teeth chattered and her breath came in short, desperate gasps. "N-no." She thought his fingers were twitching inside her, but realized it was her pussy convulsing around them, tightening and releasing, tightening and releasing, pushing his fingertips against her G-spot each time.
"Yes, you have," he whispered.
"No," she moaned. I never have."
"You have," he said through clenched teeth, moving his fingers faster. "I know you have, Katrina, because…" Faster. "You’re having one…" Faster. "Right…" Faster still. "Now."
"Oh God…" she moaned, falling against him as everything inside her shattered. The neighbors probably heard her, her own neighbors probably heard her from halfway across town, but she didn’t care because it just felt too fucking good.
Before she even had a chance to catch her breath, he said, "We need to go back inside." His voice was strained just as hers had been moments before.
"What? Why?" She couldn’t imagine trying to stand now, trying to do anything remotely resembling walking while the aftershocks of an orgasm like that rippled through her. "Chris, I—"
"We have to go inside." His voice trembled with desperation. "Because all the condoms are in there."
Twenty Two
That Friday night, an hour or so after Chris and Kat joined their friends at a table near the dance floor, he noticed someone checking her out from the safety of the bar across the room. Chris was almost certain that the guy was looking at Kat, and when he made eye contact with him, he was sure of it. His relaxed stance—an elbow on the bar, hips and shoulders cocked slightly—straightened and his smile fell as his eyebrows jumped. His expression changed from that of a man interested in a woman to that of a man trying to decide if he was encroaching on another man’s territory.
Chris realized how close he was sitting to Kat, that his arm was slung over the back of her chair. He wasn’t touching her, but their casual intimacy walked the line between friendly and territorial. An outsider could easily read it as, back off, she’s mine.
He shifted slightly, angling his body away from Kat’s and putting an arm on the table between them, creating an implied barrier. He gave a subtle nod to the guy at the bar. She’s all yours.
Moments later, Kat turned around. Chris glanced over his shoulder and exchanged a brief look with the guy from the bar, who was now right behind her. The newcomer’s eyebrows jumped and his body stiffened a little, probably still uncertain if Kat was completely available.
It was only when Chris turned away, engaging Sarah and Greg in a different conversation, that the newcomer got the nerve to ask Kat for a dance.
~ * ~
"Care for a dance?" A subtle southern accent drew
each word out for an extra fraction of a second.
Kat gave him a quick look up and down, taking in as much of his fit physique as his clothes would allow. And pass up the chance to be up close and personal with that body? Are you nuts? "Of course," she said. He offered her his hand and she took it as she rose. Over her shoulder, she told her friends, "I’ll be back."
"Take your time," Chris said, winking. The newcomer’s hand tensed slightly in hers, and when she turned back to him, he glanced past her, suddenly hesitating.
"Lead the way," she said, gesturing towards the dance floor. He hesitated again, then smiled and led her out to the floor.
"Name’s Blake," he said.
"Kat."
"Kat," he drawled, saying it as slowly as was possible with a monosyllabic name, as if trying it out. Tasting it. "What’s that short for? Katherine?"
"Katrina."
"Katrina." The way he drew her full name out made her knees weak, and he didn’t seem to mind at all when she leaned into him for support. "I’ve always liked that name."
She shrugged. "I’ve always had a love-hate relationship with it."
He laughed. "I suppose it doesn’t have much novelty for you, does it?"
"Not so much." But you can say it anytime you want with that accent. She wondered if he talked dirty in bed. Oh dear Lord, a southern accent whispering dirty things in my ear while I come. Be still, my beating heart.
"So that guy you were sitting with," Blake said, his eyes darting towards the table across the room. "He’s not your—?"
"Who, Chris?" Kat laughed, glancing back at the table. She shook her head. "We’re just friends."
"I see," he said, his body relaxing slightly as he nodded. "I didn’t want to step in where I wasn’t welcome."
"Such a gentleman."
"Or a slimeball masquerading as a gentleman to deceive you." He winked and she laughed.
"Somehow I doubt that."
"No one ever seems to believe me when I say that." He gave a theatrical sigh and shook his head.
"So where are you from? That’s not a local accent I hear."
He smiled again. "Georgia, born and bred." His cheeks colored a little and he dropped his gaze. "Can never quite cover up that accent."
"Don’t cover it up on my account," she said.
He met her eyes again. "You don’t mind a southern accent?"
"Don’t mind it? Are you kidding?"
He smiled, crinkling the corners of his eyes and melting something deep inside her. "I like you already."
One dance
turned to several. Eventually, Blake led her towards the bar, away from the crowded floor. "I’d love to stay for a few more dances," he said. "But I have a plane to catch tomorrow morning."
Kat’s heart sank. "Heading home?"
"Oh no, I live here. Just off on business for a few days. But," he paused. "When I get back, I’d love to get together again. Say, over dinner or drinks?"
She smiled. "That sounds nice."
He pulled his phone out of his pocket. "What’s your number?"
After Blake left, Kat wandered back to the table. Immediately, she noticed Chris’s absence. She glanced around, but didn’t see him.
"Where’s Chris?"
Natalie inclined her head towards the stairwell. "I think he went up to the terrace."
Kat’s gaze swept over the table and she realized everyone in the group was still present. "By himself?"
"I think so." David paused to sip his beer. "He was checking out some chick earlier but—" He craned his neck. "Nope, she’s still by the bar, so he must have gone alone."
Glancing at the stairwell, Kat scowled. "Shit, he’s not getting another migraine, is he?"
"He seemed okay," Natalie said. "Just a bit quiet."
Kat chewed her lip. "Fuck, that’s not good. I’m going to go make sure he’s okay."
~ * ~
Chris rested his elbows on the railing in one of the few quiet corners of the terrace. It was an unseasonably warm evening, so the terrace was crowded and noisy tonight.
"You disappeared." Kat’s voice startled him.
He looked over his shoulder and smiled. "Just needed to get away from the noise for a bit."
A concerned expression tightened her lips. "You’re not getting a migraine, are you?"
He laughed. "I don’t know, you tell me."
"Well, you’re not being an ass and I haven’t seen you indulging your sweet tooth, so I guess you’re okay."
"Thank you, Dr. Morgan."
Her eyes narrowed, but her smile broadened. "You weren’t overcome by the need to punch a guy who was encroaching on your territory, were you?"
He laughed. "You’re not my territory, Kat." But another minute of that and I might have done something to get myself arrested. "So what happened with him? Dud?"
She shrugged. "Nice guy. Sexy accent."
"So now you’re a sucker for accents?"
"I’ve always been a sucker for the right accent."
"Define the right accent."
"Southern. Preferably a southern gentleman."
He snorted. "Since when do you like gentlemen?"
"I like it when gentlemen talk to me in a decidedly ungentlemanly fashion."
"So if I talk dirty to you in a southern accent—?"
"You are not a gentleman, Christian."
He laughed. "So what happened with him? Didn’t like him?"
"I didn’t say that." She smiled. "He had to cut out early."
"Get his number?"
"I gave him mine."
"So he is a gentleman."
They fell silent for a moment, both looking out at the skyline. Chris chewed the inside of his cheek. She had him dead to rights. Right or wrong, jealousy was the reason he’d come out to the terrace. Not only that, but he’d spent half the night trying to work up the nerve to ask her about something, and had just about done so when the newcomer
came along.
Well, she’s here now. This is as good a time as any. Taking a breath, he broke the silence. "You know, I was thinking about our conversation the other night." He paused. "In the hot tub."
She grinned. "I’ve thought about that conversation a lot. Probably not so much for the conversation as the rest of it." She winked.
He chuckled. "I’ve thought about both," he said.
"Long and hard?"
"That’s how I think about everything."
She laughed. "So what specifically were you thinking about?"
Pursing his lips, he was quiet for a moment, gazing out at the city before looking back at her. "How long has it been since you’ve done any BDSM?"
She thought for a moment. "I haven’t done any of the serious hardcore stuff in a few years, but I’ve had my hands tied to a few pieces of furniture in the last year or so." She paused. "Why?"
He sipped his drink, glancing away for a moment and shrugged. "Just…curious."
"I know you better than that, Chris. What’s on your mind?"
He rolled his drink around in his mouth, then swallowed it. "Would you be game for a little ‘playing’ together?"
She exhaled. "Thought you’d never ask. What did you have in mind?"
He shifted his weight. "I’m not into the serious hardcore stuff."
"So racking you and forcing you to sing show tunes is out of the question?"
"Very much so."
"Well, there goes that plan."
He laughed. "Evil wench."
"You knew that long, long before you saw me naked, Christian."
"Good point." He laughed. "I’ll be honest, though, I like this kind of thing, just, you know, nothing too outrageous. Just tease me, then fuck me."
She grinned. "So you like foreplay with a safe word?"
He laughed again. "That about sums it up."
"I’m always game for that. So, what isn’t out of the question?"
He shrugged. "Little bit of bondage, little bit of dominance, that kind of thing. Nothing too involved."
"Tie you to a chair and tease the hell out of you?"
"That I could go for."
"Good to know. At least I know you’ve done handcuffs before."
"Indeed I have."
"Into pain?"
"Some."
"Define ‘some’."
"Don’t beat the shit out of me, but I have a thing for fingernails."
She lifted her hand and flexed her fingers, clicking the ends of her long nails against each other. "That I can manage. What about a blindfold?"
At that, he tensed slightly, drawing a breath through parted lips.
"Okay, no blind—"
"No, I could go for that."
"Are you sure? If it makes you nervous…"
He touched her arm. "I can handle it." With anyone but you? Not a chance.
"Chris, I don’t want you doing something you’re not comfortable with."
"Isn’t the whole idea to push my limits?" He winked. "I’ll be fine, Kat. It’s just not something I’ve done before."
"Okay, you’re calling the shots."
"Well, technically you’ll be calling the shots."
"True."
"So, do you want to?"
She seemed to consider it for a moment, then nodded. "I’ll bring my cuffs over tomorrow night."
"I have cuffs."
She grinned. "How many pairs?"
He laughed. "I only have two hands, Kat."
She nudged his ankle with the toe of her shoe and grinned again. "How many pairs?"
He swallowed hard. "Just one."
"I’ll bring mine." She paused, then looked at him with a devilish twinkle in her eye that made his hands shake. "Better yet, why don’t you come over to my place?"
Twenty Three
As Chris pulled into Kat’s apartment parking lot, his phone beeped. He flipped it open.
The door’s open, the text message read. Let yourself in and wait for me in the dining room.
He swallowed nervously and got out of the car. Though he enjoyed this kind of power-exchange, he wasn’t without some apprehension. Part of the thrill for him came from giving up control, letting someone else push his limits, mostly by tapping into the depths of the primal and instinctive: Vulnerability. Pain. Immobility.
For him, this voluntary surrender of control was a way of staring the fight-or-flight instinct down and saying "No, I want this, and I will have it".
Though it was entirely consensual and deeply pleasurable, it still unnerved him enough that his hands shook as he held the railing on the way up the stairs to he
r door.
The apartment was eerily quiet, the click of the door echoing down the seemingly empty hall. "Kat?"
No answer.
He left his shoes and jacket by the door and went into the dining room as her message had ordered. Everything that normally covered the table—candles, tablecloth, a few stacks of books and papers—was gone. The polished mahogany was completely bare except for a black blindfold and a piece of paper.
He picked up the paper.
Put this on. Take everything else off.
Swallowing hard, he put the note back on the table
and looked at the blindfold. That was one thing he’d never done, never successfully, anyway. He and his last girlfriend had tried blindfold play, but it just made him too nervous. He was willing to try it with Kat, though. He trusted her.
Still, if anything about this pushed the limits of his comfort zone, it was that deceptively benign piece of black satin sitting on the table.
As ordered, he stripped, laying his clothes on the table beside the note. There was something oddly disconcerting about disrobing there, in her dining room. The sense of exposure surprised him. No one was there except Kat, wherever she was, yet he hesitated with each item of clothing he removed. Being naked and in someone else’s arms wasn’t nearly as vulnerable as this isolated nudity.
Silently reminding himself that he trusted her, he slid the blindfold over his eyes, adjusting the elastic until it was comfortable. As comfortable as a blindfold could be, anyway, and disorientation set in, amplifying his vulnerability.
A hollow click followed by a dull tap straightened his spine. Then another. Again, closer this time. His mind scrambled to find the sound in his memory, trying to place it in the realms of familiarity, to still the primal fear of the unknown.
High-heeled shoes on a hard floor.
Kat’s presence raised the hairs on the back of his neck. A mental picture of the apartment flickered through his mind. The only hard floor nearby was the kitchen. She was in the kitchen. Behind him.
The sound of her footsteps dulled as she moved from hard floor to carpet. Now they were in the same room. Excitement and nervousness tied his stomach into knots and his heart pounded.
The Next Move Page 12
