Deliciously Sinful

by Lilli Feisty

  A firm grip on her wrist stopped her midturn, midsentence. He was standing now and she jerked her chin up, confronting his stare.

  “Ruby, I’m never the one begging to be spanked. Trust me on that.”

  He used two fingers to tilt her chin up just a fraction, and the scent of his leather bracelets assaulted her. His brown eyes told her everything: There was nothing submissive about Mark St. Crow.

  He said, “You’re vibrating.”

  She shook her head. “I’m not.”

  That smile again. “You are.” He slid his free hand into her blazer pocket like he had every right to do so, and the heat from his arm made her shiver more than she already was. Releasing her wrist, he placed her phone in her palm. The phone that was, in fact, vibrating.

  “You might want to get that. Could be important.”

  “Right. Thanks.” Without looking at the caller ID, she turned away and flipped the cell open. “This is Ruby.”

  “Are you okay?”

  Glancing over her shoulder at a grinning Mark, Ruby took a few more steps away from him and scanned the room. “Meg? Where are you?”

  “Hiding behind a palm tree. Did you know these things are fakes? Anyway, I saw the way Mark was holding your arm. Is everything all right?”

  She looked behind her to find Mark still watching her. She turned away. “Yes. Fine. Turns out Ash sold one of those photographs, and guess who happened to buy one?”

  “No way!”

  “Way.”

  “So why was he holding on to your wrist? Does he think you’re easy or something ’cause of those pictures? Fuck the recording contract. I’m gonna kick his ass.”

  “No! No. It’s fine, really.” Ruby didn’t know how she knew this; she just did. And she couldn’t help the fact that a part of her was enjoying their banter. Enjoying him. Yeah, as a musician he was a sworn-off species, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t enjoy a little flirting, did it? She was thirty-seven. Even if the lighting was soft, it felt good to have a hot young guy hitting on her. Not to mention her wrist still burned from where he’d held her. And that excited her even as it freaked her out.

  “Really, Meg. It’s fine. Thanks for checking, though.” She flipped her phone shut and faced Mark. He was, of course, still staring at her. But now he was sitting again, sipping his beer. Looking innocent. But there was nothing innocent about him. And there was something in his eyes that made her go liquid inside. Made her heart flutter. Flutter.

  Shit.

  Stiffly, she sat back down, picked up her drink, and took a sip. She wasn’t stupid. She knew what was being offered. A one-off with a gorgeous young man who made her pulse race. A fast fuck with a man who purchased erotic art and probably thought she had more experience than she had with BDSM. A man who’d said he was never the one begging to be spanked, worded in such a way to imply there was, in fact, someone who had begged for such a thing.

  She couldn’t get that smell of leather out of her nose.

  His gaze darted to the patio door and back to her. “Have a cigarette with me,” he said, and she looked up to find those intense brown eyes of his boring into hers.

  “I don’t smoke.”

  “Neither do I.”

  A heartbeat later, she nodded.

  Mark placed his beer bottle on the table, and then he took her hand. She loved the feel of his dry, strong fingers laced with hers. Loved the way he confidently led her through the crowd. Even as she broke rule number two—never leave your own event—she loved the way her heart hammered as she followed him onto the terrace. Besides, if anyone needed anything, she was just outside the door.

  On this empty patio. All alone. With Mark St. Crow. Her heart started to race in a way it hadn’t in a long time, in an anxious pace that made her palms moist.

  But then his hand was on her arm, stroking softly. The feeling passed.

  She met his gaze and her heart quickened, but in a much more pleasant manner than it had just a moment ago. Were they going to do it now? Have sex? Here?

  It suddenly dawned on her that she was about to have a quickie on the patio with a man she’d just met. Why else would he have led her out here?

  Why else would she have let him?

  Just do it and get it out of your system!

  Hell, they were halfway there anyway, right? He’d already seen her at her most vulnerable. The man possessed pictures of her, not just nude, but in bondage. Rope wrapped around her breasts, her arms, between her legs. Totally bound. God, he’d seen more of her than any man had in over a year.

  Turning, she smiled shyly at Mark. “You’ve seen me naked.”

  “Don’t think I’m not thinking about that.” The corners of his mouth lifted in a mischievous smile as he took a step closer to her.

  She lifted her chin a fraction, then jumped into the unknown. “Do you just admire the art you buy, or do you play?” Her entire body seemed to shake as she waited for him to answer.

  His hand went to his belt buckle, where he lightly stroked the brass. “I’m interested in all aspects of power exchange.”

  And she wanted to give him that power over her.

  How had he brought out this side of her so fast? Because she wanted to sink to her knees before him, give herself to him right then. She’d forgotten what that craving was like, how encompassing it could be.

  She shook her head. All this talk about leather and bondage and spanking had her head spinning, had her acting crazy.

  Instinct told her to run, but then he pulled her to him and cupped her face between his hands. “I’m going to kiss you, but only if you promise to come to my show and then wait for me afterward.”

  “What if I hate the way you kiss?”

  “You won’t.”

  “You’re so sure of yourself?”

  He lightly stroked the top of her ear. “Yes.”

  She had no intention of going to his show, but he didn’t need to know that. She pulled him down toward her. She loved the way a man’s neck felt in her palm, and she closed her eyes and savored the seconds before their first kiss. Then his lips touched hers briefly and she opened her mouth, slid her tongue gently toward his. She tasted him. Took pleasure in the easy way they connected.

  She’d forgotten what a kiss could be like. How it could make her legs tingle. How it set loose butterflies in her belly. How it melted her.

  His hands were roaming her back, pressing her body against his. Desire hit her like lightning, shooting through her veins in a hot bolt. Their kiss became harder, more intense. His hands held her steady as he explored her mouth, and she groaned against his lips.

  Slowly, he moved his fingertips from her shoulder to graze the outside of her breast, down her rib cage and over her hip bone until his hand clenched around her upper thigh. With two steps he had her backed up against the wall. She went limp as he covered her, until she was sandwiched between his hot body and the hard concrete, still warm from the day’s muted sun.

  His hands were in her hair, loosening the strands. Stroking and pulling, pulling until she gasped from the sharp sting. Her legs quivered and he brought her closer, tilting her head so he could run his tongue across her teeth in just such a way it sent little quivers shooting through her. When he brought her hands together and stretched her arms to hold them high above her head, she allowed it.

  How easily she followed his lead. How easy it was to let him direct her. How could this be happening so fast? The feeling was too intense, and it was exactly what she was afraid of. Letting go, craving something she couldn’t control. Craving the need to let go.

  So why did it feel so good?

  He released her arms, but she kept them over her head and she felt his hands at her chest, steady as he undid the first few buttons of her blouse. Still he kissed her. His knuckles were warm on her skin as he spread the fabric and then his fingertips found her nipple. She gasped into his mouth as he pinched, twisted. The pain shot through her, straight to her sex.

  Ash, the others, had
always been gentle.

  She realized she did not want Mark to be gentle.

  She was getting wet. Wet between her legs, but she didn’t want him to touch her there, not yet. She wanted to feel the void, feel the want. The journey was as good as the destination, and she wanted to enjoy every moment of the ride, make it last.

  Which was bad. Very bad. This was supposed to be a quickie, nothing more. She pulled back. “Do you have a condom?”

  He stepped between her legs and yanked up her skirt, lifted her up and she wrapped her legs around his hips. She held him between her thighs as he pushed his denim-clad erection against her panties, which were now moist and damp. “Mark. Please tell me you have a condom.”

  “Yeah, I have one in my pocket.” He sounded so calm. How could he be so calm when she was so quickly becoming undone?

  “Thank God.” She rubbed her pulsing sex against him, sliding against the buttons of his jeans, letting them grate at her swollen flesh through her underwear. The muscles in his shoulders bunched beneath her hands, thrilling her. She could come, just like this, with a stranger.

  He continued to kiss her, stroke her, wrap her hair in his fist. Grind his cock between her legs until she was begging him. “Please, Mark. Condom.”

  “Come, Ruby.”

  “I will, I promise. As soon as you put on the condom and we … you know. Do it.” She whispered the last two words.

  He shook his head, and—damn him—he seemed to be biting back a smile. Again. “No, I mean come to the show. You obviously like the way I kiss.”

  She was panting as if she’d been running, and she had to fight to catch her breath. “Why do you care if I go later?”

  By now her neat ponytail was practically nonexistent, and he wrapped a lock of hair around his finger. “Because then I can see you afterward.”

  “But—”

  He gave her hair a gentle tug, and fuck it, her sex clenched from the sharp pain. Like a puppet, she responded to his every touch.

  “Listen, Ruby. I want you.”

  “Here I am. Take me!” She wiggled a bit against his body as a prompt.

  His eyes searched hers, darting back and forth. “I want more than a quickie against a wall. I want the night with you. And I have a feeling you want more, too.”

  Everything in her froze. “Like what? What do you think I could possibly want?”

  Leaning in, he kissed her earlobe. “I think you want to give yourself over to me. I think you want to feel my hand on your ass. I think you want to know what it would be like to be owned by me. Just for one night.”

  Speechless, she stared over his shoulder at the jasmine growing in a pot in the corner. She bit the inside of her cheek. He was wrong, so wrong. She so did not want those things.

  So why was she trembling? Why was her pussy throbbing just from those simple words? Why were her nipples tingling beneath her satin bra?

  And, most important, why were her insides melting into a puddle of lust with each passing second he breathed against her ear?

  This was such a bad idea.

  But the alternative was going home to her vibrator, which sounded much less appealing.

  “Fine. I’ll go,” she said.

  Her reward was another kiss that blew away any reasonable thoughts left in her head.

  He slid her down his body and put her on her feet. Then he straightened her skirt and fastened one button between her breasts. How could he look so controlled when she felt anything but?

  And then, with his hand, he encircled her throat, his palm pressing against her clavicle, and something calmed inside her. His eyes were dark as they drilled into hers. “I’ll leave a pass at the door. There will be a spot reserved for you near the stage. Where I can see you.”

  “Yes,” she breathed, loving the way his hand enclosed her neck. Loving everything.

  “I’ll tell the bartender to have a drink waiting for you. If any men approach you tonight, I want you to ignore them. Do you understand?”

  She nodded. She couldn’t help herself. She liked the feelings Mark had set off inside her too much to say anything at all, especially the word no.

  Pinned to the wall, his large hand on her throat, she sank into him as he kissed her again. His mouth gently belied the rough grip he had on her body, and the juxtaposition of sensation nearly killed her.

  How could she deny herself this? After all, it was just one night.

  Art gallery curator Joy Montgomery has never liked her body’s generous curves, and she’s always been too shy to explore her wild side. But when bad-boy artist Ash Hunter asks her to pose as his model, Joy finds her life is about to change.

  Dare to Surrender

  *

  Turn this page for an excerpt.

  Chapter Four

  She saw the corded muscles of his arms loosen, the only sign that he’d been anxious she might say no.

  It took only a couple of minutes, and just the process of him binding her, the feeling of the corded material wrapping around her skin, made her pussy go wet, made her entire body hum with lust. When she felt him tie her off, she tested the rope, and while it wasn’t uncomfortable, it was secure. Her wrists were bound, like she was his prisoner.

  “You all right?”

  “Yes.” She was more than all right. The act of submission made her pussy ache in a way she’d never experienced and, surprisingly, calmed her.

  Smiling, he pulled her arms tight above her, his body stretched against hers, something she was quite sure he did on purpose. Against her hips, she felt his erection through his jeans and her dress; goose bumps erupted over her arms.

  He stepped back, and when she tugged her arms, she realized she couldn’t move; he’d secured her to the wall.

  “Ash?” She was hovering on the edge of being anxious and thrilled, the two emotions mingling until she couldn’t tell them apart.

  He took her face between his palms again and kissed her, gently, for the longest time, until she was calm, until the ropes around her wrists felt almost comforting, like they were part of her. Submitting to him, she stopped fighting, and then he got on his knees before her, moving slowly to kiss her body as he made his way down. When he nuzzled his face against her hip, kissed her hip bone through the fabric of her dress, she lost it, lost all control.

  “Ash… I need you.” Between her legs there was a want; she was pounding with need—for him. She’d never felt a need like this. Ever. The bonds heightened every sensation coursing through her, and she welcomed, claimed, each one.

  He lifted the hem of her dress until it was pushed up around her waist. For a second, she thought she must be out of her head, because normally she felt very self-conscious when she was exposed. And she’d never been so vulnerable with someone she barely knew.

  But now, that sense of anonymity seemed to entice her, and she stretched her body, arched, let his hands move under her dress to feel her skin. She saw desire in his eyes, and it made her feel sexy, feminine. Maybe it was the ropes, being bound and helpless, giving herself to him; she felt a bit as if she were floating. She felt her own smile on her face as she waited for him, watching Ash’s gaze, which was now focused on her panties, her swollen clit.

  He glanced up. “Do you like being tied, Joy?”

  She nodded.

  “Tell me you like it.” He placed a soft, warm kiss in that spot he’d been staring at, his breath muffled through the lace of her panties.

  “I like it, Ash. I like being tied by you.”

  “I don’t know what it is about you, baby. You make me so fucking turned on.” With one hand, he yanked her panties down her legs, still holding her dress up with his other hand. “You always look so…”

  “What?” she whispered. How did he see her?

  “Ready for me. Like you want me to take you.”

  “I do. Take me.” She couldn’t believe the words coming out of her mouth. She’d never talked like this, never been so demanding. But with Ash she felt safe. Maybe too safe, a littl
e voice whispered in the back of her head, and she ignored it.

  “Spread your legs.”

  She stepped her legs farther apart, as wide as she could go. With both his hands, he kept her dress up around her hips and pushed her ass back against the wall. Rope hung to her left and to her right, above her. Binding her. Surrounding her. She shuddered.

  “Taste me, Ash. Fuck me.”

  “How did you know dirty talk turns me on?” he asked with a wicked grin.

  “I want to feel your mouth on my pussy.”

  “That’s my girl,” he said, and then he was licking her, spreading her with his thumbs, spreading her wide so he could use his mouth to sweetly torment her, and she heard herself moaning, pleading.

  “Oh, God,” she said, pressing hard against him, pulling at her bindings. “Yes, oh my God. I’m going to come, Ash.…”

  He looked up. “Do it. Come for me, right here against my face. And then I’m going to fuck you, and you’re going to come again.”

  “Yes,” was all she managed. “I want that.…”

  Slowly, tortuously, he licked her, from as deep as he could reach to her throbbing clit: licking, sucking, tugging. She threw her head back against the wall, feeling her hair tangle as she thrashed her head from side to side. When she came against his face, it was like lightning shooting through her, and she screamed his name, crying out over and over as he sucked every last tremble out of her body.

  Finally, when she stilled, he stood. His gaze raked over her, and she imagined what she must look like. Arms tied overhead, her dress wrinkled and hanging around her waist. Her hair a rat’s nest. In total disarray, the exact opposite of everything she’d come to know about Ash.

  But he smiled at her and brushed a strand of hair off her face. “You’re a mess.”

  She felt the blush starting at her neck.

  “I like it. I don’t know why, but I do. You’re so different, Joy. Different from any woman I’ve been with.”