Owning Violet

by Monica Murphy

  So this feels … odd. As if I’m putting myself on display for him.

  Which I am.

  I’m wearing a wrap dress—a purposeful decision since I knew what was going to happen today—and I reach for the knot at my waist and slowly pull it free. The fabric gapes with the movement and I undo the tie completely so that the dress falls open, revealing slivers of my skin. My breasts, my belly, my legs.

  Ryder never takes his gaze away from me. He leans against the edge of his desk, his arms crossed in front of his chest again, his head bent to the side. Observing me like he’s studying a science project.

  I shrug the dress off my shoulders and it falls into a heap at my feet. I not only chose the dress for today, but also my lingerie. He’d asked for something sexy and I hope I delivered.

  Pray that I delivered.

  His gaze lights up as it skims over me and rests on my chest. “Nice bra.”

  I glance down. My breasts strain against the thin fabric, cream silk trimmed with black lace, my nipples hard and poking against the lace. The panties match, cut in a bikini style that covers more than reveals. I feel sexy every time I wear the set, which isn’t often. I bought them on a whim while out shopping with my sisters. Lily convinced Rose and me to buy something frilly and indulgent. Not for the men in our lives, Lily had said, giving me a pointed look because I was the only one who had a serious boyfriend. But for us.

  I wore the set a few times. Once when I had a particularly difficult meeting and I’d needed to feel confident in my femininity when facing a bunch of old men who don’t necessarily understand the cosmetics industry. Another time I wore it for a date with Zachary. He hadn’t even noticed, hadn’t even complimented my choice in lingerie. Did we even have sex that night?

  I’m not sure. I don’t remember. How sad is that?

  So I shoved the bra-and-panty set into the back of my dresser drawer, forgotten. Until I had a minor panic attack last night over what I should wear for Ryder. He wanted something sexy, something that would slay him …

  “Take it off.”

  I blink him into focus. “What?”

  “Your bra.” He waves a hand at me. “Take it off, Violet.”

  My fingers shaking, I reach behind me to undo the clip on my bra. I fumble with it, feeling many times the fool as he levels me with that cool, noncommittal stare. He appears completely unfazed by my standing in front of him almost naked. But I can feel his eyes on me. Lingering and hot, almost like a physical caress.

  “My panties next?” I ask, letting the bra dangle from my fingertips before I drop it onto the floor.

  “Yeah.” His voice is faint and he clears his throat. Another tell that he’s not as unaffected as he appears.

  A tiny surge of power runs through me and I take a few steps toward him, so close I can smell his cologne, see the way his lids lower over his eyes as he not-so-discreetly drinks me in. “Do you want to help me?”

  He slowly shakes his head. “You seem perfectly capable of undressing yourself.”

  How could I forget he likes the anticipation? I hook my fingers into the waistband of my panties and slowly slide the thin fabric past my hips, down my thighs, until they fall to my feet. Carefully I step out of them and stand tall, completely naked save for my favorite black Louboutins.

  “Sit on the couch,” he says the moment my gaze meets his again. “Now.”

  I turn and go to the small couch that sits in the corner of his office. It’s more the size of a love seat and a deep, velvety blue color, reminding me of a dark twilight sky. I perch on the edge of it, watching as he goes to his desk and plucks the tie I gave him from the box, holding it stretched out between his hands before he approaches.

  Nerves flutter in my belly when he stops directly in front of me. I lift my head, my gaze meeting his for a brief moment before I let it drop to the slash of red he holds in both hands. Fear trickles through me, icy cold, and I wonder what he wants to do to me with that tie.

  “We only have forty minutes,” he murmurs, twisting either end of the tie around his fingers. Back and forth, winding the fabric up before letting it unfurl. I watch, mesmerized by his long fingers, the crimson silk so vivid against his skin. “Think that’s enough time for me to make you come?”

  I nod shakily, excitement and fear taking away my voice.

  “I know for some women it takes … time. They need the buildup. The foreplay. I enjoy that too, but with our limited schedule …” He lets the tie unfurl completely from one hand, so that the fabric drops like a flag of red surrender in front of my face. “Would you let me tie you up, Violet? So I can do whatever I want to you?”

  My mouth is dry. My brain is … completely empty, save for one stark image. Me sprawled on the couch, Ryder’s big body between my legs, the tie wrapped around my hands. “Is th-that what you want?”

  He shakes his head, his expression grim, though I swear there’s a light sheen of perspiration on his forehead. I’m glad to see it, because so far there have been minimal clues that he’s even affected by me. “It doesn’t matter what I want. What do you want?”

  I lick my lips, searching for an answer. The thought of being tied up, unable to stop him from doing whatever he wants, both excites and terrifies me. I want to say yes. The practical side of me is screaming no, but …

  “Tell me.” He caresses my cheek with his fingertips and I lean into his hand, closing my eyes. His touch is so gentle but his words are so stern. “Do you trust me?”

  I open my eyes and stare up at him. “No. I don’t know.” It’s true. Can I really trust him? What if he uses this moment, this affair, against me? I’m putting everything at risk, especially my reputation.

  And to me and my family and our business, my reputation is everything.

  He smiles. “Good answer. You shouldn’t trust me. Not completely. But I can promise that I won’t hurt you. That’s not my intention here. You can put a stop to this at any time. This is all for you.”

  All for me? No man has put my pleasure ahead of his before. But doesn’t Ryder want anything out of it? He’s talking as if this is some great sacrifice. “I understand,” I say with a small nod.

  “Good. Now.” He pauses. “May I tie you up? Just your wrists.”

  Another small nod and a shaky sigh. “O-okay.”

  He reaches for my hands and lifts them above my head. “Lie back,” he urges softly and I do as he commands, my arms resting on the edge of the back of the couch. He steps close, his chest brushing against my face as he wraps the red silk around my wrists once, twice, three times before tying the fabric into a knot. “This is loose enough that if you really struggled, you could break free. Or just tell me to stop and I will.”

  I test the knots, jerking my wrists against the binding fabric. My butt is sunk into the cushion and my legs are slightly spread, heels braced flat on the floor. Ryder steps away, his eyes roving over me, from my arms bound above my head down to my chest, my breasts pushing upward because of the position I’m in. His gaze drops farther, to the spot between my legs, and he smiles.

  “Spread your legs open.”

  I do as he asks, my shoes sliding across the floor. I can feel myself. I’m wet. So wet and aching for him, I feel light-headed. Like I could faint.

  And then he’s right there in front of me, his mouth taking mine hungrily, his hand pressed against my right breast, cupping my flesh, his thumb circling my nipple. I lift into him, a moan breaking free as his tongue finds mine. His hands are everywhere, his mouth like a drug that I can’t get enough of. I lift my arms, a frustrated whimper escaping me when I realize I can’t touch him, and he pulls away from me, shaking his head.

  “Leave your arms above your head,” he warns and I do as he asks, my head going back when he rains kisses along my jaw, my throat, my chest. Drawing closer and closer to my breasts until I’m squirming beneath him, wanting his mouth on my nipple, sucking it deep.

  But he teases me, as if he knows exactly what I want, and instead gives m
e something else. He blazes a path with his mouth between my breasts, along the underside of first one breast, then the other. I’m trembling, my breaths coming in short puffs as he tortures me endlessly with his mouth. He licks my skin with his warm, velvety tongue and when he finally takes a quick swipe at my nipple, I cry out.

  “Sshh,” he murmurs against my skin, just before he draws my nipple between his lips and sucks it deep.

  I buck against him, closing my eyes and then immediately opening them again. I don’t want to miss a thing. Don’t want to miss the sight of Ryder’s head bent over my chest, his tongue circling my hard, wet nipple, his hand sliding down, down, down, until he’s gripping the inside of my thigh and pushing my legs apart even farther.

  He pulls away and kneels in front of me, his hands on the inside of my thighs, his gaze locked in between my legs. I watch him watch me, my chest rising and falling, my skin on fire, my entire body aching for more. It’s all happening so fast and I feel like I could come apart at any moment. Just having his eyes on me, his fingers curling into the sensitive skin of my inner thighs, is almost enough to make me come apart.

  “Beautiful,” he murmurs. “And so wet.”

  I should be mortified that he’s studying me so intently, but I secretly love it. Wish I could spread my legs farther to let him see more, all of me. He grazes his fingers over my trimmed pubic hair and I flinch. His fingers fall lower, tracing my skin with a feather-light touch. Searching my folds, streaking across my clit, sliding back down to trace every single part of me …

  “Could I make you come with just my fingers?” It’s almost as if he’s talking to himself. “Or would you like my mouth on you too?”

  Oh God, he’s trying to kill me in the absolute best way. “Your mouth,” I whisper.

  His eyes meet mine, full of wicked intent. “Yeah?”

  I nod, pressing my legs in so my thighs bracket his hips. “Please.”

  The sly smile that spreads across his face tells me he likes this. Making me beg. “Just my lips?” He drops the softest, briefest kiss on the very top of my pubic bone. “Or my tongue, too?”

  “All of it,” I say on a gasp, wishing I could grip his head with my hands and push his face into me. I’m on the edge, on the verge of falling completely apart, and he’s teasing me.

  Always teasing me. Testing me.

  As if he knows I’m so close, he doesn’t bother with words any longer. He puts his mouth on me, licking and sucking, his tongue searching my folds as he pushes his finger inside me. I whimper, tossing my head back and forth against the edge of the couch, my gaze never leaving the sight of Ryder devouring me. Another finger joins the first one and he’s pumping them inside my welcoming body, his lips attached to my clit, his hot mouth driving me to the brink.

  I still watch, lost to the sensation, to the sight of this gorgeous man bringing me so much pleasure. He runs his free hand up my thigh, over my hip, my waist, to caress my breast and I arch into his touch. He opens his eyes, brilliant blue locked directly on me, and he lifts his mouth from my body, his lips damp and swollen.

  “You like to watch.”

  I don’t bother denying it. “I like watching you.”

  “You are a complete surprise.” He dips his head, runs his tongue along the length of me, making me cry out. He pinches my nipple, as if that might shut me up, but the sharp taste of pain with my pleasure only makes me moan louder. “People might hear you, Violet,” he chastises.

  “I don’t care,” I huff out, my body starting to quake. I’m almost there. So close and I close my eyes, unable to fight my body any longer. I want it. I need to come. I feel like I’m going to explode.

  He rests his hand directly over my mouth, muffling my whimpers, and I open my eyes to find him still looking at me. “I like seeing you like this. All naked and wet and shivering, completely at my mercy.”

  Oh God. He’s trying to devastate me with words. And when his lips latch onto my clit and he sucks, his tongue teasing, that’s all it takes for me to fall completely apart. I moan against his hand, push my hips up as the intense orgasm rushes over me, sweeping through my body until I’m left a shaky, exhausted mess.

  Ryder kisses one hip bone, then the other. Sweet, simple little kisses that melt me further. He rears up to his feet and reaches for my bound hands, undoing the tie, then rubs my wrist. The muscles in my arms shake from being in the same position for so long and I let them fall to my sides, then stretch them out in front of me.

  I don’t know what to say, how to act. I’ve never let a man bring me to orgasm on his couch in his office before, let alone while being tied up. I’ve never done anything like this at work. Or at home, or anywhere really.

  “Twenty minutes.” He backs away from the couch and checks his watch on his wrist, then smiles down at me. He looks very pleased with himself. “Which means we have another twenty minutes to kill. Unless you’ve … had enough?”

  Chapter Twelve

  Ryder

  I can still taste her on my tongue, sticky sweet on my lips and chin. Never in a million years did I think I could get Violet Fowler on my couch in my office, naked with her wrists bound, my face between her legs tonguing that pretty pink pussy until she came all over my lips.

  Yeah. Hottest fucking experience I’ve had in a long time, if ever.

  She’s still naked, save for the sexy black shoes. Her skin is flushed. Her breathing is labored and her full breasts move with her every shaky exhale, her rosy nipples still standing at full attention.

  Not really a surprise, because I figured she was hiding that smoking-hot body beneath the clothes, but damn. The woman is gorgeous. Absolute perfection. And the way she responded to me, the sounds she made …

  “Come here,” she whispers, her voice gone husky with arousal.

  I’m not that far from her so I take a few steps closer, startled when she reaches for my belt and tugs me forward. Her face is practically on my dick and it swells painfully, demanding satisfaction.

  He’s always been a greedy bastard.

  “Twenty minutes is a long time,” she says as she starts to tug my shirt out from my pants. “It’s your turn.”

  I’m so shocked that she’s undressing me, it takes a full minute for me to realize what she’s saying. I try to step out of her reach but she has a firm hold on my belt, undoing the buckle with a few quick flicks of her fingers. My cock strains against my boxer briefs, ready for her attention, and within seconds she has the button undone and the zipper down, her slender fingers stroking, fondling my cock without bothering to take off my underwear.

  “Violet …” I’m protesting but I don’t know why. I definitely don’t want her to stop. And it’s erotic as hell, watching her sit in front of me naked while I’m mostly clothed, Violet’s hand in my pants. If she doesn’t stop, I might embarrass myself and come in my briefs.

  She tilts her head back, all that long, dark hair spilling over her shoulders, down her naked back. She’s beautiful like this, her hand wrapped around my cock, her lips parted, eyes smoldering. She’s enjoying this. A lot.

  “Take me out,” I tell her. Her hand stills. “Take my cock out.”

  Without a word she jerks my underwear down and pulls out my cock, wrapping her fingers around me tight. I press my lips together, fascinated with the sight of her fingers on my erection, stroking, teasing, her thumb swirling around the head. She leans forward the slightest bit and drops a single kiss on the very tip. I grunt at the touch of her pouty mouth, let out a hissing breath when she takes me between her lips and sucks.

  And then it just gets worse. Or better. Not sure which way to look at it because with her lips on my cock, it’s pure agony. Exquisite torture. She grips the base and licks the entire length, swirling her tongue around the head before she draws me completely into her mouth. I stand there on shaky legs, fascinated with the magnificence of her lips and tongue, surprised at her expert blow-job skills.

  Because holy hell, is Violet Fowler giving me one hell
of a blow job.

  I drop my hand on top of her head, thread my fingers into her hair and push it back. She glances up at me, her mouth full of cock, her big brown eyes wide and seeking approval. She pulls away as I settle my other hand on the side of her head so I’m gripping her, holding her. Wishing I could fuck her face and come down her throat, but I hold myself in check because she’s needing some sort of approval. I can sense it.

  “So fucking good,” I murmur, letting her hear the satisfaction in my voice. Her eyes light with desire. Not only does she like to watch, this girl likes words, too. “Don’t stop, baby. Make me come.”

  A hum of satisfaction escapes her as she slides me back into her mouth and I thrust my hips, needing more. She takes it, tilting her head back, her eyes falling closed as she licks and sucks me straight into oblivion. I pump in and out of her mouth, groaning when she sucks the head of my cock so tight her cheeks hollow out. I feel the tingle at the base of my spine, my brain going fuzzy as the sensation hurtles up through my body.

  “I’m gonna come,” I warn her but she doesn’t move away. Hell, I think she takes me even farther, and that’s it. I’m coming with a groan and a shudder, my entire body heaving as I bend over her, her hair tangled around my fingers as I pull it. She whimpers but takes it all like a pro, swallowing as I jerk and shudder into her mouth.

  Jesus. How long did that take? Not even five minutes? Any other moment I would’ve been embarrassed. I like to take my time and prolong things. Hell, even Violet has me all figured out in that respect.

  But one touch of her lips on my dick and all I could think about was coming and how long I could hold off before I lost it.

  Without a word I stuff my still hard dick back into my pants and zip up, tucking in my shirt as best I can. She remains seated on the couch, looking the tiniest bit uncomfortable as she dabs at her lips with her fingers, then wipes at her cheek.

  I hold both my hands out to her, and she takes them so I can pull her into a standing position. With the heels on she’s tall, but not as tall as me. I duck to look into her eyes, reading that nervous expression on her face as the look of someone who thinks she just royally fucked up.