by J. Kenner
He trails off and I know he’s recalling the blackmail attempt made last year around Valentine’s Day. We still don’t know who was behind that, and though we’ve had no more threats, every once in a while I recall that someone is out there with a vendetta against us—and that we have no idea when they will strike again.
“My shadow man might not be a guest,” I point out. The restaurant and the north beach are open to the public on weekends, and the identity of guests that come by boat isn’t recorded.
With a quick nod, Damien acknowledges my words. “We’ll just have to hope we get lucky.” He goes to the bar and grabs the bottle of scotch. “Dallas? You want to stay awhile and have a drink?”
He looks like he does, but then he shakes his head. “Better not.”
I smile at Dallas as Damien pours drinks for himself and me. “I really appreciate you watching my back.”
“My pleasure.” He turns his attention to Damien. “I’m heading to LA tomorrow morning, so I’ll see you at our meeting Monday if I don’t see you before.”
“Sounds good,” Damien says, walking him to the door. When he comes back to me, I’m on the couch, my feet curled up under me.
“Was it just me, or did it seem like Dallas was less than enthusiastic about going back to his love nest?” I ask.
“I’m not even remotely interested in any love nest that isn’t ours,” he says. He kneels in front of me and puts his hands on either side of me, essentially caging me. “Now tell me, Nikki. Why did this guy scare you? What haven’t you told me?”
I can only shake my head. “Nothing, I swear. It was just a feeling. Like eyes on you in a dark alley.”
He’s silent for so long that I start to think he’s expecting me to continue. But I really don’t know what else to say, so I’m quiet, too. And when he does finally speak, his words both surprise me—and light a fire inside me.
“Baby,” he says as his palm grazes over my thigh. “Am I going to have to punish you?”
I can imagine what kind of punishment Damien will come up with, and the air between us has grown so thick with electricity that I can practically hear the crackling.
Being punished doesn’t scare me. On the contrary, the thought of Damien’s palm against my ass turns me on, and I squirm a bit, knowing that I’m wet merely from anticipation. But as much as I might enjoy the punishment, the accusation pisses me off. Because I really don’t know why the man got under my skin, and I’m certain Damien thinks I’m holding something back.
“I told you the truth,” I assert. “I don’t know what about the guy scared me.”
“I believe you,” he says, and I see amusement dance in his eyes. “But that’s not why I’m going to punish you.”
“It’s not?”
“It’s not,” he acknowledges. He takes my legs and tugs them out from under me so that I’m forced to sit upright, with my feet on the floor and Damien in front of me. His hands are on my denim-clad knees, and moving very slowly up my inner thighs. My jeans are suddenly far too constricting, and my breath is coming more and more shallow.
“You see—”
His palm presses against my crotch.
“—the woman I love more than my own life—”
His fingers toy with the button on my jeans.
“—she didn’t recognize me. Did she?”
With his eyes steady on mine, his hand slides into my jeans and underwear. I gasp and arch back as pre-orgasmic spasms rock through me from the brush of his fingertip over my clit.
“Did she?” he repeats.
“No.” Just forcing the word out is torture, I’m so lost in the storm of sensation that Damien is creating. I draw a stuttering breath and try to conjure words. “Your text. You said two more hours. I didn’t expect you before midnight.”
“I sent that text around seven-thirty,” he says, and I realize the text must have been delayed because of the weather. When I’d responded that I missed him, he thought I was just texting because I was thinking of him.
“But I thought—”
“I understand,” he says, making me cry out as he thrusts two fingers inside me. “And yet I’m unpersuaded by your excuses.”
“What are you going to do?”
“Oh, that’s easy, baby.” He rises up and bends over, his lips brushing against my temple as he whispers in my ear, his words and his tone making me tremble with longing. “I’m going to make certain that you won’t ever, ever forget me again.”
“Tell me how,” I beg. I want his words stroking me along with his hands. I want to bathe in the knowledge of what he’s going to do to me. I want to feel myself getting wetter and wetter as Damien whispers exactly how he’s going to fuck me.
But all Damien does is shake his head. His fingers are still inside me, and his thumb is on my mons so that he has a hold on me. And then, before I even have time to recognize what he’s doing, he pulls me forward roughly until my ass is right at the edge of the couch and I’m slouched back, breathing hard, my body hyperaware.
“Damien—” It’s the only word I can manage. He’s making small circles with his thumb just above my clit, and the fact that I’m still in my jeans so that his hand is forced tight against my flesh only adds to the pleasure that is rolling through me like a building storm. But that sweet sensation is mixed with a wild need—a desperate desire for a release that won’t quite come because his hand is just a few millimeters from where I crave it.
The corner of his mouth rises. “You like that?”
“Yes—god, yes.” I tilt my head back, expecting more.
Damien, damn him, pulls his hand away.
I make a low, moaning sound of protest, and the bastard chuckles. As he does, he grips my jeans on either side and tugs them down hard, taking my underwear with them, until the waistband is around my knees.
The jeans are as effective as cuffs, preventing me from spreading my legs any further, though I desperately want to. I struggle to do exactly that, my body acting on pure need rather than reason. I want to be fully open to him—I want to feel everything. Have everything. I want Damien’s touch, his mouth, his cock.
And then his fingers are back and he’s thrusting them inside me, so, so deep, and I’m rocking against him and his thumb is on my clit, and it feels so damn good.
“Tell me what you want,” he demands.
“Fuck me.” My voice is raw. Desperate. “Please, Damien. Please fuck me.”
His fingers go even deeper and I gasp as he rises higher on his knees, his hand pushing hard against me. I grind against him, and he leans forward, his mouth capturing mine, his tongue fucking my mouth even as his fingers fill my cunt. It’s raw and wild and I love it. But I want more. I want his cock. I want him deeper. I want to feel him come inside me, and I want to explode with him.
“You want me to fuck you?”
“Yes.”
“That’s what you want?”
“Damien, yes. Please, yes.”
And then he pulls away, and I’m left gasping. His mouth no longer on mine. His fingers no longer inside me.
“I don’t know.” His grin is wildly wicked. “Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe not fucking you is just the punishment you need.”
Chapter 3
“You wouldn’t,” I say, though I can’t keep the genuine worry out of my voice.
“Wouldn’t I?”
I shake my head, trying to appear more certain than I feel.
“Why not?”
“Because that wouldn’t just punish me. It would torture you, too.”
“It would,” he agrees. “But while I’m not usually averse to self-sacrifice for a good cause—and,” he adds as his eyes skim over my body, “you are a very good cause—tonight I have something else in mind. Take off your jeans, baby. Take off everything and get on the floor. I want you at my mercy.”
“I’m always at your mercy,” I say as I begin to comply, and from the gleam in his eyes, it’s clear that he knows it.
“You are,”
he says, a softness sneaking in to dull the sharp edge of his voice. “As much as I’m at yours. But I’ve been thinking about you all day, hot and naked and wet for me. And tonight I’m taking what I want. And, baby? I promise you’re going to enjoy it.”
I’m on the floor now, my clothes abandoned, and I whimper a little as his words caress me, making my nipples peak and my clit throb. I have absolutely no doubt he’s right. But “enjoy” is too mild a term. Whatever he has planned, I’m going to fucking love it.
“Roll over and get on your knees,” he demands as he unbuttons his shirt, then tosses it aside.
I do as he says, then look over my shoulder to see him, looking magnificent with his broad shoulders and tight abs. He’s strong and lean and hard, and there’s no question that he used to be an elite athlete. I don’t care about tennis at the moment, though. On the contrary, right now all I want to do is taste every delicious inch of him.
Of course I can’t. Not when I’ve been ordered onto my hands and knees. And so I stay put and wait for Damien to touch me.
Damien, however, has other plans, and I watch, confused, as he strides out of the room and into the kitchen. I hear a door open, then rattling, then I hear the door close tight again.
A moment later, I hear the tread of his shoes on the tile floor, followed by his return from around the corner.
As far as I can tell, nothing has changed. He’s not holding anything and he’s still wearing his slacks. So what was that all about?
“Put your arms under you, baby,” he says. “I want you on your knees, your wrists beside your ankles, your ass in the air.”
It takes me a moment to form a mental picture, but when I do, I realize that I need to put my cheek on the ground. That puts me in an even more vulnerable position than hands and knees. That way, my back is flat. But like this, my ass is high. And when Damien tells me to spread my legs so that there’s about eight inches between them, I’m suddenly wide open.
“Beautiful,” he says, and the reverence in his voice makes me wet. Something I’m sure he realizes, as I’m completely and fully exposed to him.
He kneels down and caresses my ass with the palm of his hand. My core clenches in response, and though he says nothing, I hear the small noise he makes and am certain that he realizes just how much I’m craving him.
“I want you to stay like this,” he says, slowly stroking my perineum so that I have to fight not to squirm, and actually bite my lip to hold back a needy moan. “Do you think you can?” he asks as he smacks my ass with the palm of his hand, then caresses the stinging area. “Tell me, baby. Can you be very, very good?”
“Yes,” I whisper.
“I’m not so sure,” he says. “And I’d hate for you to break the rules and be punished. Why don’t I help you out?”
I have no idea what he’s talking about, and from this position with my head so close to the ground it’s hard to see what he’s doing. But I can see that he has something in his hand and that he’s bending down. A moment later, I feel him slide something beneath my ankle, and then I hear the familiar clicking of a cable tie as he creates a loop around my ankle.
“What are you—”
“Shhh.”
He repeats the process on my wrist, and when I hear a third cable tie being pulled tight, I realize he’s connected the ties on my wrist and ankle so that they are bound together, nice and tight.
“Please tell me you didn’t go next door to get those ties from Dallas.” My cheeks heat just from the thought of it.
“I had a package in the utility room,” he says. “I was using them to gather cords when I set up the office. Dallas only reminded me that they have other, more interesting uses. And, Nikki?”
“Yes?”
“Who said you could talk?” He asks the question with a quick smack to my rear, and I close my eyes, wanting more. Wanting nothing but his touch.
He repeats the process on the other side, the end result being that I’m tied in this ass-up, exposed, wide open position. And I’m so turned on right now that I think if he doesn’t fuck me soon, I am literally going to go insane.
Thankfully, I don’t have long to wait.
I hear the rustle of clothes as he undresses, then the press of his hands against my ass as he kneels behind me. “Christ, you’re beautiful,” he says. “And you’re mine. How the hell did I ever get so lucky?”
I almost say that I’m the lucky one, but then I remember that I’m not supposed to talk. I feel him lean over me so that his erection brushes my ass as his torso skims my back. He presses a soft kiss between my shoulder blades and whispers, “Good girl.” And in that moment, I know that I did exactly the right thing by staying silent.
Damien has plans for me, and as he starts to kiss his way down my spine, I think they will be spectacular.
His lips are soft on my skin, and he moves slowly, almost lazily down my body. At the same time, his hands reach beneath me, stroking my breasts and my belly. Tracing a path along my rib cage. Each touch is feather light, magnificent in its innocent sensuality. And so deliciously seductive that I feel as though every cell in my body is glowing, hyperaware of these caresses and primed with pleasure.
Throughout it all, his cock and balls brush my rear. Teasing my anus, rubbing my cunt. Making me even wetter. Making me tense and throbbing with need. I want him inside me. I want him everywhere, and the fact that I am essentially tied in place—that the most I can do is roll over onto my side—both frustrates me and adds to my excitement. I’m right there, fully on display, as exposed and open as a paid hooker. And yet he is being as gentle as a man who is seducing his woman.
The contrast is intoxicating.
Finally—finally—he reaches the base of my spine. His hands lightly cup the globes of my rear as his tongue teases my ass and my cunt, then lower still to flick over my clit. “Baby, you taste so good.”
I bite my lip against the urge to answer him. To beg him. To scream that I want him inside me.
“Tell me,” he says as he slides two fingers inside me, “do you want to be fucked?”
“Yes. Oh, god yes, Damien.”
“Good answer, baby. Because I don’t think I can wait any longer.”
He thrusts his fingers deeper inside me, making me buck and writhe. My head is down, so I can see nothing, and that only heightens the sensation when he trails those sex slick fingers up to my ass, then teases the rim. I bite my lip, wanting him there, too. I know that he realizes it, and yet he is showing no mercy.
I actually whimper.
“Like this, baby?” he asks.
“Yes. Please, yes.”
“Or maybe like this?” As he speaks, he eases the fingers into my ass even as he thrusts his cock into me. The sensation of being simultaneously—and unexpectedly—filled is so incredible that I cry out at the same time that I push back and up wanting more of him, all of him.
He doesn’t disappoint. He fucks me harder. Deeper. And it’s so incredible that I feel like a wild thing, shamelessly twisting and thrusting in an attempt for more sensation, more intensity.
More Damien.
I’m so lost in the feel of him that it takes me a bit to realize that his other hand is playing with my clit. He’s orchestrating my pleasure like a symphony, and right then, I think the cymbals are about to crash.
“Damien!” His name on my lips is an incantation as much as a prayer, and I shatter beneath him, my body pumping him as he explodes inside me in time with my own crazy, intense, body-shaking convulsions.
It seems to last forever, and I think that I cannot survive this onslaught of pleasure. Then slowly, the intensity fades and Damien very gently pulls out of me, then cuts the cable ties. I collapse onto the floor with him beside me.
He kisses me, then pulls me close and strokes my arm lazily as he grins. “How was your punishment?”
“I’m tempted to be very bad all the time,” I admit, making him laugh. I lean forward and kiss him softly. “I’m so glad you’re back.”<
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“I’m sorry I was late. Sorry I missed hanging out with the guys, too. How was the shower?”
“Girlie,” I say. “And fun.” I give him the rundown, with the highlight of course being my victory in Pin the Sperm on the Egg. That, of course, leads to more talks about the reason for the baby shower in the first place—the actual baby who’s coming into the world in just a few weeks.
“Everyone’s asking when we’ll have one,” I tell him, then see a faint tinge of terror behind his eyes. Or maybe I’m just seeing the reflection of my own fear. I laugh, then snuggle close.
Someday we’ll have a family, I think. Right now, I’m content to have the man.
—
The delicious scent of hazelnut coffee draws me out of sleep, and I open my eyes to find the most gorgeous man in the world smiling down at me.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he says as he puts the coffee on the side table and sits beside me on the bed.
“I think that’s my line. You’re an incredible sight to wake up to.” I stretch, then push myself up so that I’m sitting with my back to the headboard, the sheet tucked under my arms to ward off the morning chill. Damien hands me the coffee and I take a sip, then moan in what is almost orgasmic pleasure. “This is exactly what I need.”
“But is it all you need?” His voice is low, and as he speaks, he’s slowly tugging at the sheet so that it slips lower and lower, finally revealing my breasts. With a triumphant expression, he releases it so that it pools around my waist.
“Not all.” I take another sip and sigh with pleasure. “But it’s definitely high on the list.”
“Is it?” He inches closer, then brushes his fingertip lightly over my collarbone, the simple touch igniting a fire inside me.
“Mmm-hmm.”
“And what else is on the list?” he asks as he rips the sheet off the bed, exposing me. He moves between my legs, urging my thighs apart as he does so.
