Debauched (Undone Book 3)

by Jennifer Dawson

  Trapping me. Reminding me of his true nature and what that means for me. The protest flits through my mind but evaporates as his mouth flirts over mine.

  He’s relentless. Brushing. Stroking. Nipping. Licking. Over and over, endlessly, until my whole body buzzes with him, all my senses consumed, my thoughts emptied.

  He’s not even kissing me. Not really.

  He’s playing with me. Like a cat toys with a mouse.

  My nails dig into my palms as I clench my hands into frustrated fists, moaning helplessly when he captures my lower lip between his teeth and licks.

  I arch, needing some sort of friction.

  He inserts his thigh between my legs. My skirt is stretchy but it still doesn’t accommodate. He grips my wrists in one hand, while the other skims down my body, before bunching my skirt high enough for his thigh to slide against my swollen center.

  I have no idea how he’s doing this but I don’t ever want it to end.

  Never has anyone taken this kind of time with me.

  He presses his thigh where I need him the most, at the same time brushes over my mouth.

  I whimper.

  Against my lips he whispers, “I can feel the heat of your pussy through my pants.”

  His words only increase my arousal.

  “Can feel your body straining against the desire to grind against me and relieve the ache.”

  My hips jerk in response and I’m practically panting.

  “But I’m not going to deliver.” The pressure between my thighs releases as he moves his leg. “I’m going to make you want it.”

  I shudder.

  He bites my lip. “Beg.”

  I can’t repress the sound that emerges from my throat.

  His lips cover mine, hot and commanding, taking absolute control as his tongue plunges into my mouth.

  I’m so crazy I lose myself immediately.

  And then he’s gone.

  I chase him, but he releases my hands. For a second I’m free but then he grips me by the throat and holds me to the wall. Lust, so powerful my knees actually quake, storms away inside me. Instead of pushing him away, I clutch at his shirt and try and pull him closer.

  He works his fingers under my skirt and into my panties.

  Shock rolls through me and I freeze. But he doesn’t seem thwarted by my sudden tensing. He slides over my skin, before circling my clit, featherlight.

  Nothing more than a tease. And I want more. My god do I want.

  He meets my gaze, which I’m sure looks like a deer in headlights. “I want you to remember this, how you feel right now, and know I haven’t even started.”

  He releases his hold on my neck, and I sag against the wall. His fingers leave my clit and hook into the cotton of my underwear. Before I can process what’s happening they are sliding down my legs. I can’t think of anything but the fact that I’m limp against the wall, trembling with desire.

  “Step out.” His voice holds that edge I’ve heard in both Layla’s and Jillian’s fiancés.

  I should say no, but I’ve somehow already stepped out. He rubs his thumb over the fabric and he slips them into his pocket.

  All I can do is stand there, open mouthed, stunned, and more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life.

  He smooths my skirt down my legs before straightening. “Ruby.”

  I blink. “Yes?”

  “Lose the guy.”

  “Okay.”

  “Good girl.”

  I might hyperventilate.

  He steps forward, cups my jaw and raises my chin. “And later, when you’re in bed, remember who you’re coming for.”

  And with that, he walks away, leaving me confused, terrified and needy.

  Chad

  Walking away wasn’t easy. But it needed to be done.

  I slip out of the party and into the tail end of the Chicago winter, letting the cold night air work its magic.

  Michael’s parents live in the wealthy part of Evanston pressed up against the lakefront. The street is stately, filled with old neoclassic architecture and mature trees.

  I walk down the block until I hit the lake, stopping to watch the waves crash onto the shore. Without a jacket the wind should be enough to cool me down, but with the imprint of Ruby’s panties in my pocket, I’m struggling.

  I reach for them, my thumb circling the damp center. She’d been so fucking wet when I touched her it had worked on every last ounce of my self-control. I could have dragged her into a bedroom and taken her right then and there, but that would have defeated my end game. While I’d flipped her switch, turned her on, and made damn sure she was desperate for me to touch her, she would have frozen as soon as I turned more serious.

  Even that brief moment I’d played with her pussy every muscle in her body had tensed, and, despite her arousal, if I’d continued she would have started thinking.

  I breathed in the lake air, listening to the waves in an effort to think about anything other than slamming my cock inside her.

  Because I wasn’t sure this was the smartest thing I’d ever done.

  Pursuing Ruby will take work. Effort. Patience. And for what? We are not really compatible. We live different lives and have different goals.

  But, Christ, I want to see her come. Want to be the one to make it happen for her.

  Of course, the one thing we do have in common she won’t even acknowledge.

  I may not have been interested in her, but I’d kept an eye on her since I’d met her. After a blind date with Layla, Ruby’s best friend, we’d parted ways only for me to run into her and Michael when I was out with a girl I’d been dating about six months ago. The girl didn’t last, but to my surprise, my friendship with Layla and Michael had.

  Ruby has intrigued me from the start—the lone innocent in her group of kinky friends. The exact opposite of my regular group, which is probably why I’d started hanging out with Michael, Leo and Brandon more and more. I still see my friends, guys I’d grown up with, but they no longer quite felt like my people.

  As soon as I’d met Ruby I recognized the signs in her. Not that the other guys in the group, all dominants themselves, hadn’t noticed too. We’d talked about it a few times, or mainly Layla had, with Michael telling her to leave it alone, but it had been a topic of discussion.

  It’s pretty clear if you know what to look for.

  Despite her obvious tells, Ruby is hardcore insistent she wants nothing to do with being dominated, claiming to anyone who will listen she doesn’t understand why anyone would want such a thing. But she can’t quite hide her fascination, even though she believes every word she says with her whole heart.

  I don’t doubt Ruby believes it. I also don’t doubt she doesn’t understand why a woman would want to be dominated.

  The problem is Ruby doesn’t understand how submissive she really is. And the scene in the hallway only confirmed that. She’s completely unaware she’d just submitted to my will. Sure, I hadn’t pushed her, or made demands, because that would be unethical and wrong, but once I’d touched her she’d surrendered to what I wanted without protest.

  I could see the struggle in her eyes. The inability to lie to me when I asked her a direct question. Her easy agreement when I told her to ditch the guy. The shudder of desire when I’d called her a good girl.

  I had zero doubts by the time that guy, her date, dropped her off he’d be gone. That even if sanity prevailed, and she processed she’d agreed to my demand without protest, she wouldn’t be able to let him touch her. I was equally sure Ruby would come tonight and think about what happened between us in the hallway when she climaxed. And that when she was close and not filtering her emotions, she’d think of how I’d held her by the throat and squeezed while I rubbed her clit.

  The tricky part came with what to do about it. Because these weren’t things Ruby was remotely ready to hear. She has a laundry list of issues, and asking her to accept her submissive nature now was the equivalent of telling her she needed to go run a marat
hon tomorrow morning with no preparation.

  But I can help her.

  There’s something between us. Something hot and tangible, and after eight weeks of going out on dates with girls I couldn’t even remember and forgot the second they were out of sight, it’s not going away.

  I want Ruby and at some point she’s going to be under me. Despite her protests and her disbelief, she will come for me. I’ve already started and there’s no stopping us.

  I just have to be very conscious of getting her consent on every single thing I do to her. So that when she comes face-to-face with her nature, with what she fears the most, I can remind her it had been her choice all along.

  Ruby

  I’m sitting across from Layla and Jillian in a crowded Sunday brunch spot in Lakeview. Layla called me this morning and asked me to come, and since I was about to jump out of my skin at my restlessness, I agreed.

  Luckily, since they are both getting married, they are talking about wedding plans and I don’t have to pay close attention. While Layla has just gotten engaged, Jillian’s wedding is only a couple of months from now. She’s going to be a classic June bride.

  I love both of them—and over the months Jillian has become an actual friend to me instead of Michael’s sister—but wedding mania is alive and well. Sometimes it bothers me, sometimes I feel jealous and petty, but today their preoccupation suits me quite well.

  I have not stopped obsessing about Chad since our encounter in the hallway. All I can think about is how his mouth felt on mine, how my body had tingled, how much I wanted him, and how I wanted more.

  Over the course of the evening, Chad had disproved any preconceived notions I had about him being a “nice” guy.

  While we hadn’t been alone for the rest of the night, he’d been like a magnet, drawing me to him over and over, preoccupying me. I’d wanted to be close to him. Wanted Tommy to be gone, which was bad enough, but I found myself wishing that I was with Chad.

  He hadn’t helped matters.

  When we were together in a group, he’d catch my eye before putting his hand in his pocket where I knew my panties were. Then he’d stand there, a smirk on his face, making it clear to me he was touching my underwear, only to talk as if nothing out of the ordinary was happening. As though I wasn’t bare under my skirt because of him.

  It was like a train wreck, one I couldn’t look away from. He’d held me captive. Breathless and wanting. I don’t want it to be so, but I can’t deny, it made me ridiculously wet. Like embarrassingly so. Every time I’d walk I’d be reminded of my slippery thighs and how swollen I was. There were a few times I was tempted to go into the bathroom and take care of the ache, but I convinced myself he’d somehow know and didn’t want to risk it.

  The whole thing was bizarre and strange. I’ve never been tempted like that, been so preoccupied with lust I contemplated taking the edge off. I barely knew what to do with it.

  I have a complicated relationship with sex that, in my mind, bordered on dysfunctional. An unfortunate byproduct of growing up a minister’s daughter. The sad thing is my parents are loving and affectionate and didn’t push a negative agenda, but all that church sank into my brain and wouldn’t leave. I want to be above it all, because I consider myself a modern, feminist woman, but my upbringing did a number on me I haven’t figured out how to fix.

  Somewhere along the way, in a quest for empowerment, I taught myself how to masturbate and give myself an orgasm; it was tension release versus being turned on. And, despite my best efforts, I have never been able to translate it to my relationships with men.

  I’ve never experienced what I had last night, where it was literally all I could think about. Made all the worse by the friction of my enflamed flesh and press of my thighs. By my bare, slick skin. By Chad watching me in that way he had, knowing and confident.

  I chose not to think about the fact that I’d done exactly what he’d asked of me and told Tommy it was over. I didn’t even look back as he sped away. I’d already forgotten him.

  I’d practically run to my apartment. I’d barely gotten in the door I’d been so crazy. I’d collapsed on my couch, and rubbed my fingers over my clit, thinking about Chad and the hallway, his words, the squeeze of his fingers on my throat. I came harder than I ever have, even arching a little and biting my lip. After, all I could think was I wanted more.

  That it wasn’t enough.

  Just thinking about it now creates an unfamiliar kick of lust low in my belly. I blow out a long, slow breath and force myself to stop thinking about him and return to reality.

  The din of the restaurant comes rushing back, suddenly too loud.

  I look across the table and find Layla and Jillian staring at me, both wearing expressions that are a mixture of concern and speculation.

  Layla raises a brow. “What exactly were you thinking about?”

  Jillian grins. “And why are your cheeks so pink?”

  My face heats even more and I pick up my mimosa. “Nothing.”

  “Did something happen last night?” Layla asks.

  My mind fills with images of Chad, his teasing mouth and wicked words. I’ve never had a man talk to me like that. Most guys’ idea of dirty talk is pretty cringe worthy, but Chad, the things he said—my skin flushes even deeper. I shake my head. “No, nothing happened.”

  Layla and Jillian look at each other.

  “She’s lying,” Jillian says.

  I want to tell them, because this is the kind of thing you tell your girlfriends, spend hours analyzing and dissecting, but I can’t. One, what exactly was I supposed to tell them? Because what exactly happened? I have no idea. And two, which is the most important, they love Chad. I don’t want them to get excited about something that will turn into nothing. How could it not? We are nothing alike.

  So I put on my game face. “I’m not. Nothing happened.”

  “Did you sleep with the guitar guy?” Layla asks, the corners of her mouth turning down.

  “No.” I tuck a lock of hair behind my ear and take a sip of mimosa, letting the cool bubbling tang soothe my throat. “You’ll be very proud of me. I broke up with him.”

  Layla blew out a sigh. “Whew. Good. I didn’t know how to tell you I saw him making out with Shelly last night.”

  At the news, I feel absolutely nothing. Not even surprise. Guys like Tommy are invested in the rocker life fantasy, and fucking random girls while your date is occupied, goes with the territory. Besides, I wasn’t exactly innocent. I’d let Chad touch me more in that hallway than I’d let Tommy in three dates. I shrug. “I wish her good luck dealing with his aggressive tongue in her mouth.”

  Layla and Jillian laugh.

  Jillian wrinkles her nose. “God, I used to hate that.”

  “He was the worst.” I make a jabbing motion with my finger. “Like hard, stabbing pokes.”

  “Yuck!” Layla exclaims.

  I take another sip of my drink, downing the rest and putting it on the table, glancing around for our waiter to get a refill. “But rest assured, he’s gone.”

  I wait for the conversation to turn away from my dating life, but Jillian narrows her eyes. “Something happened. You’re preoccupied.”

  I bite my lip, looking for a satisfactory answer, but my phone rings, saving me. I open my purse and see Chad’s name lighting up the screen.

  My heart leaps in excitement, before starting a fast, steady pounding in my chest. I’d half expected last night to be a moment of insanity never to be spoken of again. I snatch the phone and say, “I’ve got to get this.” Then I’m springing from the table and weaving my way through the people toward the door, the phone already to my ear.

  “Hello.” My tone is entirely too breathless.

  “You sound like I caught you at a bad time.”

  At the sound of his voice, I fear I might hyperventilate. “No, it’s okay. Just give me a second.”

  I push my way outside. The sun is bright, and while the air is still cold, it’s going to be a
nice day. I walk down a few shops before I stop. “Sorry, is that better?”

  “Much. Where are you?”

  “I’m at brunch with Layla and Jillian.”

  There’s a quick pause on the line. I take the moment to calm my breathing and slow my galloping heart rate.

  “Did you tell them about last night?” His tone is curious.

  “No.” I lick my lips and the cool air makes them sting.

  “Why not?”

  “What was I supposed to say?”

  He laughs. “I fooled around with Chad last night while my date was downstairs.”

  I press my hand against the brick of the building. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Although it turns out he was busy with one of my friends, so I don’t think I was missed.”

  “Good, he wasn’t ever going to give you what you need anyway.”

  I want to ask what Chad thinks I need, but I’m not sure I want to hear the answer. I clear my throat. “I didn’t expect to hear from you.”

  When he speaks his voice is a low rumble. “Did you think I was going to leave you like that?”

  I bite my lip; remember the sting of his teeth. “You walked away last night and didn’t say anything, so yes.”

  “I walked away because you’re not ready for me to fuck you against a wall.”

  I sharply inhale at his words, all the heat from last night rushing back.

  “I can hear how you like that idea, Ruby.”

  I press my hand against the brick even harder, using the scratch of the surface to focus, but don’t say anything. Was this what phone sex was like?

  Several beats pass before he speaks. “I didn’t say anything because I wanted you to have time to think about what I’d done to you. About what I want to do to you. To give you a chance to decide what you want with a clear head.”

  I blink down at the sidewalk. “What do you want to do to me?”

  “The list is endless.” Another pause. “But dinner tonight is a good place to start.”