“Put me down,” she ordered through clenched teeth.
“Relax, honey,” he assured her. “I’ve run a cool bath for you to soak in for a bit, and then I’ll work on your feet.”
“You are not going to be in the bathroom with me, Graham Alexander,” Kennedy stated.
Graham controlled himself.
“Get into the tub, Kennedy. I’ll wait in the other room. Drink some water.”
Kennedy locked the bathroom door and stripped off, tossing her clothes into the hamper. The cool bath restored her equilibrium and body temperature, and the bottle of water rehydrated her. Now if only she could get out and find him gone. She winced when she put her weight on her feet, but they weren’t as swollen and the blisters were minimal. She would need a bunch of foundation tomorrow to calm her pink skin tone down, but the vinegar seemed to really help. She was grateful to Graham but resentful, too, that she had needed his assistance. Well, she hadn’t really needed it. If she had come home and not found him there, she would have taken care of herself like she always did. It had felt nice to have someone coddle her, though. Resolutely, she pushed away those thoughts and dried herself off. Shit, her robe was in the bedroom, and these towels just barely covered her, sarong style. Well, she couldn’t stay in here all day, so she carefully opened the door and slipped through it to hurry to the bedroom and find her robe. Graham scooped her up the instant she exited the bathroom, and she couldn’t contain a little scream.
“It’s okay, honey,” he crooned, “I just don’t want you walking on those feet for a few hours. They’ll heal faster if you don’t.”
Kennedy tried to think how important it was for her to have healthy feet at her job interview tomorrow and not about how good it felt to be held against his hard chest, his warmth so reassuring…
“I’d like my robe.” She broke the moment.
“The towel works fine, honey,” Graham cajoled.
* * * *
The tops of her breasts were on full display, round and creamy to his gaze, and her silky thighs pressed against his arm. He wanted to lay her down on that queen-size bed of hers and ease the towel apart. He would explore every inch of her and taste her pussy. Somehow he dragged his mind back to the matter at hand and set Kennedy down on the couch, rather than spook her by taking her into the bedroom. He had the aloe lotion all ready on the coffee table and sat beside it, taking both of Kennedy’s feet onto his lap, carefully avoiding the evidence of his arousal. His shirt hung outside his jeans, but provided a pretty flimsy barrier to her gaze.
Kennedy held herself rigid and had her bottom lip between her teeth. Her eyes were fixed on him and weren’t the gold of rage this time, but more a warm, golden, sandy color. Graham didn’t know for sure what that color meant, but he thought it might be a cross between apprehension and arousal. At least she wasn’t terrified. Her eyes went green when she was scared. Graham badly wanted to kiss her and lick that pouty bottom lip of hers before he balanced the head of his cock on it. His woman was all but naked, and he was so close. It should have felt strange because he wasn’t in leathers, there was no contract, he wasn’t training her, and yet, it felt like coming home, tending to Kennedy, taking care of her. He took care of his subs, too, but this was different. Kennedy would have to embrace some of his lifestyle because it was a big part of him, but first things first.
Graham slicked his hands with lotion and began to massage Kennedy’s feet, paying attention to her arches, smoothing the areas where the straps of her sandals had cut in. The blisters would have to wait until they filled. He carefully worked his way up over her ankles and then massaged her calves. Kennedy had long since relaxed and allowed herself a few moans of pleasure, and Graham took heart. He gently separated her knees as he slid his hands up and down the inside of her calves. He could smell the scent of clean, warm woman and a hint of arousal. It was decision time, and he hoped he made the correct one.
“You owe me fifteen, Kennedy,” he said into the silence.
Kennedy tensed. He waited.
“Can’t you just fuck me?” she asked, keeping her eyes closed.
“Kennedy.”
She reluctantly opened her eyes and met his.
“I intend to fuck you and more, honey, but you owe me fifteen. It’s who I am, sweetheart.”
She nodded.
“Say it.”
“All right. I’ll take the fifteen,” she bit out. “But I’m not counting.”
* * * *
Kennedy thought hard and fast. She wanted to fuck this man. She wanted to fuck him more than she had ever wanted to fuck anyone in her entire sexual life. His magic hands and his proximity had made her pussy weep, and she didn’t care if he knew. It seemed like fate. Everyone was pushing them together, and he was not going to go away. Although maybe he would if they did the deed. She couldn’t go there. Better to take this opportunity.
Graham lifted her right off the couch in another amazing display of strength and carried her to a dining room chair that had been pulled away from the table. Kennedy gritted her teeth at his foresight. The arrogant bastard. He thought he knew her. He would find out that maybe he didn’t know her as well as he thought.
Graham left her the towel, maybe recognizing that she had already made a concession. He turned her over his lap and trapped her legs with his own, then pulled the towel up to bare her buttocks to his gaze.
“You have such a beautiful curve to your ass, Kennedy,” he told her, “all plump and silky. I look at it for hours. There’s no need to count this time, little one, but if I miscount, it will be on your head.”
Graham began to smack her buttocks, alternating as before, but adding a little more heft to his swing. By the count of ten, Kennedy was squirming against him and knew that he would know her spanking was arousing her further, that she had moved past the sting to the pleasure.
“Hold still, or I’ll add another five,” he ordered.
“I can’t,” she gasped.
“You can. Show some self-control.”
Kennedy froze at his acerbic comment and thought about biting him again. The leathers had precluded her from sinking her teeth in, but she thought jeans wouldn’t prove to be such a barrier.
“And if you bite me again, Kennedy”—Graham stole her thoughts—“I will restrain you and lick you until you beg me to let you come. But I won’t.”
That little bit of advice had successfully settled her, and she wasn’t on the edge in the same way. The final five smacks served to push her right up there again, especially when Graham gently rubbed her cheeks and the warmth permeated right down to her pussy. This time, when he slid his fingers down to explore her labia, Kennedy allowed it. When he pushed a finger up inside of her to lubricate it and then circle her clit, Kennedy whimpered despite herself. She missed this. She missed orgasms. Graham penetrated her with two fingers and unerringly found her high spot, feathering a fingernail over it, and she clenched, hard. When his thumb pressed her clit, Kennedy let herself go over and inhaled the moment.
“You have no self-control, honey,” Graham murmured as he pulled her up onto his lap, the towel slipping to the floor. “I’ll teach you how to wait, and then your orgasms will be truly memorable.”
“That one was pretty fine, buddy,” Kennedy offered. “I haven’t…”
“What, honey? Was that the first one in a long time?”
Kennedy swallowed but saw nothing but patience and kindness in his gray eyes.
“Yes.”
“How long?”
“Over a year, maybe eighteen months, but who’s counting.” She tried to laugh.
Graham cuddled her close. “It’s okay, honey. I’ve got you.”
Kennedy suddenly began to cry, impervious to her nakedness and him being totally clothed. She cried hard, for everything, for her sore feet, her sunburn, her tattered soul, and all of her losses. She cried until the tears dried up, and she hiccupped her breaths. Graham’s shirt was soaked with her tears, and still he held her and rocked
her.
* * * *
When she settled, he carried her to the bathroom and wet yet another washcloth, gently cleaning her swollen face, patting her puffy eyes. He pressed a kiss on her adorably red nose and then took her lips despite himself. She opened for him like a flower, and he kissed her until neither of them could breathe. Graham took her to the bedroom and gently laid her on the mattress, having already pulled the covers to the foot of the bed.
“I want to inspect my woman, Kennedy,” he gritted out. He was impossibly hard now and had to move forward before he burst.
Kennedy lay, acquiescent, and solemnly watched him strip off his shirt and his jeans. His boxers barely contained his erection, and Graham saw her shiver when she looked at him there.
“It’s okay, honey.” He read her perfectly. “I won’t hurt you, I swear.”
When she relaxed, he added cheerfully. “Unless you ask me to or you deserve another spanking, that is.”
His voice deepened. “Spread your legs, Kennedy, and put your feet flat on the mattress. Now.”
Kennedy did as he asked, and his arousal spiked as he looked at her spread pussy. Graham moved between her legs and opened her labia further, stroking the lips and then pushing two fingers into her opening. He teased her clit, sensitive from her previous orgasm, from its protective hood and pinched it to attention.
“Beautiful,” he breathed. “So pink, so juicy.”
Graham nosedived between her legs and made a meal of her pussy. His pillow talk had really turned her on if the wetness of her was anything to go by. He lanced his tongue everywhere, his teeth nipping and teasing as his hands slid beneath her buttocks and held her up to him for better access. When he sucked her clit hard, he felt her nearing another orgasm and how she struggled to contain it. Graham pulled away and slithered up her body, the material of his boxers rasping on her tender flesh.
“Good girl, Kennedy,” he praised, wiping his face of her juices. “You’ll get there again soon, and the wait will be worth it.”
Graham began to pay homage to her breasts. He marveled at how soft and round and warm Kennedy’s breasts were. He was a pussy man, although fucking ass also ranked right up there, but these babies were made for sucking. She tasted wonderful, almost as good as her sweet pussy had tasted, and her moans convinced him that he needed to really worship her breasts. He would clamp her nipples another time and maybe connect them to a clit clip, but he would need to ease her into things. She had taken her spanking well, and followed his orders to display, so it might not be as difficult as he thought. Graham heard Kennedy making sounds that indicated she might again be chasing an orgasm. Just from breast stimulation. Holy shit, he had hit the mother lode with this woman. His woman. Graham rolled away to pull his boxers off and slide on a condom. He knew she was wet, but she was small and tight and he was so close to going off. He would get up inside her somehow and hope to maintain his control. Patrick would rib him forever if he knew how she made him struggle. Oh right, Patrick had lost his own control over a certain redhead.
Graham inched his way up into Kennedy, her slick pussy walls giving way as he inserted himself then clasping him sweetly. He would not hurt her, but it took all his control to get inside without doing so.
“I can’t wait, sweetheart,” he managed to say. “Hang on.”
Kennedy wrapped herself around him as he then pounded into her, reveling in the sex, the heat, and the power. His cock battered her cervix and pressured her G-spot as he stretched her. He wanted her to come again with him inside her, and he ground his pelvis against hers. Graham stilled above her and held himself hard, reaching down to pinch her clit as he did so. Kennedy came with intensity, and Graham ejaculated, filling the condom, the residual clenching of her vagina milking him until his balls felt sucked dry. He slumped over her and opened his eyes to find her looking at him, her eyes now a golden brown. He kissed her gently and rolled off to the side, pulling her with him. She fell asleep in his arms, him still inside of her, and Graham couldn’t wait for morning, well, afternoon, to come. He hated to waste time sleeping when he could be awake with his woman.
Chapter Four
Kennedy woke in a room filled with late-afternoon sunlight. Graham slept on, holding her closely to his chest, although his penis had slipped from her. She tried not to analyze what had taken place since she let him into her apartment because it now felt like she had invited a vampire inside. He could never be kept out now and would bring her incredible pleasure while keeping her under this thrall. What if he sucked her dry? She wondered how she would find the strength to run, and to where. The experience had been incredible, and he was still with her. Sooner or later, he would push her with that lifestyle of his and the BDSM would trigger her PTSD, and she couldn’t live through that.
She watched him sleep. He looked almost harmless in repose, despite his enormous chest and biceps. With face relaxed, the dominant man at rest, Kennedy could almost convince herself that it might be different, but she knew better. How to ease him away from her and give her enough time to move on with her life, sans Graham? He hadn’t noticed or felt her scars yet, or if he had, their passion hadn’t given him time to remark on them. The doctor had assured her that the marks were nearly invisible, but she felt them. She knew they were there. And Graham would find them and ask her about them. He wouldn’t let her prevaricate, and that would push her over the edge. She would freak out on him.
Kennedy closed her eyes against sudden tears. She had wept out so much ugly pain in his arms. How could he do that to her, break her down that way? But according to her readings, that was what some Doms did best. Therapy, according to Graham. Too big a risk, too much to lose, despite her feelings for him. He was possessive of her, but that, too, was a Dom thing. She wanted a white picket fence life. She deserved it, according to her therapist, but wanting and needing and getting were rarely on the same page, and she was in bed with a fucking Dom. She carefully extricated herself from Graham’s hold, wondering that he could still sleep, and then realized he had probably worked all night at the club. Fucking her was probably the second or third event for him in a twenty-four-hour period. That hurt. She would take the unexpected time alone to build some inner walls to defend herself.
After a quick shower, Kennedy put on staid white underwear and a matching cotton bra then drew on a pair of sweatpants and a loose T-shirt. She pulled her hair back into a ponytail, the braid having been undone by Graham at some point earlier. She brushed her teeth vigorously but eschewed makeup and hoped she looked like a serious woman who was not interested in further sexual activity. She made her way into the kitchen and began to put the ingredients together for biscuits once she had dumped a container of frozen stew into the microwave to thaw. She’d heat the stew in the oven and bake the biscuits alongside. She couldn’t think further than that and sat staring into space, waiting for the microwave to stop. Depression fell over her like a wet, cloying blanket as the memories crept into her subconscious.
She had loved her job in Connecticut. She was hired right after graduating from college. Alex Demars had been a wonderful boss, a kind and caring man, ill-suited to head up a business in such a cutthroat industry, but he hadn’t asked for it. He stepped up to fill his brother’s role after the man and his wife had been killed in a car accident. Alex knew he wasn’t the CEO his brother had been, but for the family’s sake, he was willing to try. He was smart enough to surround himself with talented people and take advice and guidance from those he trusted. Alex knew people inside and out, and he was an excellent judge of character. Kennedy was jarred from her reverie at the beeping of the microwave. She forced herself to her feet and filled a small roaster with the stew and set it to bake in the oven. The biscuits began to take shape under her hands as she remembered.
Kennedy replaced a woman who had worked for Alex’s brother and was well into retirement mode. She had hung on for a few years but had finally convinced Alex that he needed to find someone else. Kennedy soon learned that he
r job was to keep Alex focused and protect him from those who would waste his time while ensuring that he didn’t feel isolated from his staff. She knew that she had become invaluable to him, and her salary reflected it, not to mention being included in his family. Alex’s wife, Susan, was a gracious woman, unthreatened by the much younger Kennedy’s proximity and involvement in Alex’s life. She could have been the mother Kennedy longed for. And then she met Randall.
Randall was Alex’s brother’s son, the eldest of three children orphaned by that car accident. Alex’s and Susan’s nephew and twin nieces had moved in with them following the loss of their parents, and Kennedy found the girls charming. They were close to graduating from high school and seemed to flourish in Alex’s and Susan’s home. Randall, on the other hand, had been asked to leave two colleges for behavior that was never discussed within Kennedy’s hearing, although it might have helped her to avoid what happened later had she known what he had done. Not that she didn’t know there was something wrong with Randall. She treated him with total civility but remained aloof and was careful not to be alone with him whenever she visited Alex and Susan.
Randall would watch her when she visited, sometimes in the same room, but more often from a doorway or the stairs. It gave her the creeps, and from time to time Susan would look at her and visibly close her lips over something she wanted to say. Alex would glare at Randall and motion him to leave but seemed powerless to do anything more. Kennedy didn’t want to stop going to their home for a meal or a celebration, didn’t want Randall to spoil it for her, but she was close to doing so before Randall…
Young, Allyson - Wishes (Siren Publishing Classic) Page 4
