by Susan Arden
I gaped at him. The last few words came out softly. I questioned if I’d heard him correctly. “Are you saying it’s my own mind game?”
Graham gazed across the island without speaking, giving me time to formulate my own conclusion. My skin broiled from the molten heat in his eyes.
“Well?” I asked.
“Very simply, yes. I want you with me. We need to put the addendum to the contract in order. So far, we’ve come up with minor things you’re willing to try. This evening, we’ll develop a substantial list you can agree to. Especially after this little episode, your training needs to start tonight.”
He crooked his finger. “Come here, Eliza. Not one word.”
Cautiously I retraced the steps I’d slipped away from him. I trembled on my personal walk of shame as he stood waiting, nostrils flared. Would he make me get down on my knees as he power fucked my mouth like the time in the club or in the sensual version he’d executed earlier?
In front of him, I stopped. “Yes?”
“Kiss me,” he demanded as the muscles along his throat worked.
He’d lost patience with my need to question and my vacillating between total trust and total disbelief. Who wouldn’t? I didn’t want to be a pain in his ass. A problematic woman. Did he finally come to the conclusion he just might have bitten off more than he could chew? I’d never been with a man who promised to invoke absolute control over me and then had me testing him at each turn. Christ, he was correct. I needed to garner control over my emotions. Not for Graham but for me.
“Graham,” I moaned, reaching up and running my hands over his starched shirt. He smelled so good, and the contours of his chest teased my fingertips. His eyes were glazed with a mixture of anger and desire. A complete turn-on.
Hooking my arms around his neck, I pulled my body snug to him and planted my mouth on his. The second our lips touched, Graham had me locked in his embrace. He pivoted us with as much ease and grace as when we’d danced. He pressed his hips into me, his feet caging mine, and pinned me against the counter. I moaned again when he pushed his tongue into my mouth, and I met him stroke for stroke. Our tongues dueled until he sucked mine into his mouth. He didn’t stop, but drank my whimpers, exchanging them for sharp nips to my lips and jaw.
“This is what you need to focus on. How to please me,” he rasped.
My head spun from the kiss. “You’re right. There’s no sense in arguing. I don’t want to be this person who doesn’t trust her own shadow. Teach me to quiet the dragon inside me so intent on raging and ruling my life. If you can do that, I’ll agree to your terms. Whatever they are.”
“That’s not what I’m asking. If you please me, I will fulfill you. That’s how this works. We should’ve finalized all the details before we left. There’s no excuse but to do so now, before it gets harder.”
“Okay. I want to know how this all works out since none of it makes much sense.” I treaded foreign territory—not just in New York, but with Graham and his lifestyle. I was confused one more time on how my pleasing him would fulfill me and teach me how to curb my temper. The dots didn’t connect. So far, my one lesson was about restraint on a sofa upstairs in Solarium and I needed more.
“I promise, I will,” he replied, squeezing my waist.
As I slumped over the counter, Graham opened the basement door and went downstairs. Snap out of it! Inhaling deeply, I shot up from counter, searching for something to do other than spiral in confusion. I walked around the kitchen, opening and closing cabinets. Everything was put away. Neat. Tidy. No disarray. Jesus Christ, if he’d ever ventured into my room, peaked inside my closet where raining shoes fell haphazardly off the top shelf, we’d have words no doubt.
He returned with a bottle of wine, his eyes softening when our gazes crossed. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah. Right as rain.” I swore I wouldn’t allow my past to dictate my future. I smiled back, hoping to put him at ease.
CHAPTER TWELVE
We entered his study and Graham set the wine and glasses on his desk. He booted up his computer and tapped his fingers across the keyboard, entering commands. I walked along his bookcases filled with leather-bound volumes on all sorts of topics. He rose and retrieved a stack of papers from the printer.
“Take a look,” he directed, holding them out to me.
I read over the documents or lists. The printer whirred again and he handed me two more pages, which brought the total to three comprehensive, enumerated checklists I was expected to review as we sat there casually discussing every form of BDSM under the sun. “Wow. You’ve outdone yourself.” My chest tightened with anxiety.
He met my gaze, his growing more intense like a slow-burning fire. “Since it’s difficult to include or exclude items when your experience is limited, it makes sense for us to go over the list and compile what you find agreeable. There’s no obligation, simply check and move on.”
“Hard to believe you created these from the questionnaire I answered in your apartment.”
“All of this is computerized from a data bank.”
I skimmed the subheadings which ranged from clothing, to equipment, to sexual positions, and even various forms of punishment. “Some of the terms I’m unfamiliar with. May I use a computer?”
The displeasure that had flagged his expression during the kitchen conversation had been replaced by a glimmer of excitement. A feeling of pressure above my diaphragm squeezed tight each time he touched me. He poured a glass of wine and offered it to me, then poured one for himself before he set the bottle on a low table in front of a cordovan-colored leather sofa, the magazine painfully visible on the end.
He must have noticed the direction of my attention because he picked up the magazine, grimaced sourly, and shot me a withering look. “Jesus, is this what was troubling you?”
I nodded. “It’s recent from the publication date.”
“The date on the publication, but this is nothing but history and business. You can’t imagine how many photo shoots I do for publications. I let my PR team deal with it, and sometimes things slip by. Right now, this matter involves a factory opening. Nothing more.”
Graham walked to the side of his desk where he dropped the magazine into the waste can. He returned to me, placing his hands on my shoulders, and searched my face.
“How am I supposed to know? This isn’t my lifestyle or my world,” I replied.
“Understood. We both need to learn to give a little.” He cupped my chin as he inhaled, and angled my face upward. He kissed me soft and gentle, sucking on my bottom lip before he plunged his tongue into me deeper and more forcefully, unrelenting as his hand slid lower on my body.
He ran his hand down my thigh, lifting my leg as I returned his kiss with equal ferocity, rubbing my hands up his body and drawing his lip between my teeth. Pulling him closer, I explored the edge of our hunger. I nipped his full lip, and he tugged my hair in return.
I could feel his lips spread into a smile against my mouth. “Oh, this is funny to you?” I asked.
“Wouldn’t say funny. More like deserving my utmost attention; and yes, I’m looking forward to later when I have you naked and open to me.”
“Who disciplines you?” My lips tingled and were swollen after the meeting of our mouths. “Ever had your ass smacked?”
Graham released a short, low laugh. “This isn’t a tit-for-tat type of deal so wipe that thought from your pretty little head.” He let go of me, then ran his fingers through his hair. God, he was gorgeous and more so when he looked amused and full of himself. His confidence was a lethal drug, and I was willing to step right up, wanting another dose of him. I pulled at my collar, suddenly aware that my clothing felt incredibly restricting. He logged me into his computer, creating a user with my name instead of using one of the laptops on his shelf.
“You’re set,” he said, standing up from his chair and coming up next to me.
“I’m to sit at your desk…what will you do?”
He raised his ey
ebrows. “I’ve got more than enough to keep me busy. I want you to go over the items included on the list and add at least ten things you’re willing to try. Research to your heart’s content. If I remember correctly, you were very wet and swollen the last time we did this. Seems like you enjoy watching others have sex?”
“You said that wasn’t a possibility. What’s the—”
He pressed his fingers to my lips. “What I said was I’m not into public sex. That doesn’t mean we can’t enjoy voyeurism. Videos, or live performances, or sitting on the sidelines while others engage. Is that something that turns you on?”
His expression held me even more so as he spoke about sex, his full lips pronouncing and stressing each syllable. Last but not least, when he sucked on his lower lip, I melted, wanting his mouth on me. I whispered, clawing at my self-control, “I don’t know. When you talk about voyeurism, you make it sound inviting. I bet you could make a glass of water sound erotically tempting.”
“In the right hands, water is very inviting.” When he stood so near, his eyes, words, and body acted as a carnal conduit in which I was aroused by whatever he suggested. My breathing required more effort standing in front of him. “All right, fine. It’s going on the list. Does that answer your question?”
“The water or watching?”
I swallowed, unsure as I sank onto the seat. “You’ll have to wait to find out.”
He threw back his head and laughed. “Okay. We’re getting somewhere.” Graham picked up my hand and kissed my palm as his eyes searched mine. “All you have to do is let me know what you’d like to try.”
His cologne and clean smell engulfed my senses as I gripped the armrest, more than willing to go with the flow, but still confused by which course to take. I glanced down, and then over to the waste can. The woman’s eyes from the cover of the magazine peeked over the rim. Her expression was as savvy as it was beautiful. She had to be some type of businesswoman, but it didn’t stop him from chucking her…glossy cover and all. Probably like he’d do if, heaven forbid, we should ever make a cover. Laughable, except it might happen. All the parts: cover, him coolly discussing me with his next acquisition, the hand toss, and me—cover girl, flung aside. Forgotten. My future in a nutshell.
“What are you thinking?” he asked, running his fingers along my jaw and palming the back of my head, drawing up my face.
Immediately I relaxed my brows that were glued together and met his questioning eyes. I shuttered my expression. Dialed down my thoughts before he could read me. I turned from his grasp, my heart rate picking up.
“Just the future,” I replied vaguely and tapped on the space bar of the keyboard, pretending to be engrossed by the images of naked people engaging in sex. He released his hold on me and I heard him sigh.
I clicked through a website he suggested, displaying the type of sex he enjoyed. Dominating kink. This checklist I had to complete, wasn’t just about me…it was about us. But unlike him with his years of experience, I couldn’t rattle off a million things to do in bed. But little by little, I was learning.
I picked up my pen and peeked over to him, sitting across the room. “A couple more ideas come to mind.”
He nodded. “All you have to remember is that I’m the person in charge. I won’t let anything disturb the trust we’re building. It’s important you open up to me.”
“I do. More than you know. Maybe too much.” The words tumbled out of my mouth, and I felt my forehead crease but stopped my face from giving me away. An extension on the lesson of sex and control he was aptly willing to teach, but one I had to master if I hoped to survive after these six months were over.
He had his cell phone out and was texting as he replied. “There can’t ever be too much trust between us.”
“Sorry. I’m not implying you’re untrustworthy. I don’t know why I went overboard.” I tried to turn away, unprepared to talk about why I felt this unsettling twinge of possessiveness over him.
He tossed aside his phone and came over. Graham tipped my chin to him. “Those are merely thresholds where you’re tied to history. Let it go. Together we can exorcise that dragon you call your past. There are effective ways to tame the creature holding you captive.” He gazed at me without smiling, and the simmer in his eyes was mysterious, as though he was upset about something. Or someone like me taxing his patience.
The room suddenly felt stifling. “I try not to think of the past. It’s over.”
I went to turn back to the computer, and his hands moved down my body, lifting me upward until I was pressed against him. His breath poured over me. His thumb traced my mouth. “Eliza, when you’re ready to believe in me, I can help you break free.”
“I want to be free. Who doesn’t? I just don’t think it’s something all people can buy into or find,” I replied as my pulse raced. He backed me up to the wall, the heat rolling off his body, and I licked my lips.
“It is where you’re concerned. All you need do is to surrender. The moment you fall without looking back, be assured two things shall occur: I’ll catch you and you’ll never be a prisoner to that beast you’ve managed to let into your soul.”
* * *
“You have done exceedingly well,” Graham murmured, running his knuckles along my cheek.
“Thanks.” Rolling my neck from side to side, I pressed my temples and stared at my list that now topped forty. My head was overstuffed with images of erotic toys, all types of discipline, and countless ways to use both. I’d uncovered what I believed to be a source of Graham’s bemused ‘dragon’ quips and scorching looks—one item in particular. “Did you see the one about dragon tails?”
“I did.” His eyes widened and his brows rose. Dragon tails were small whips and he tapped the screen of his phone and nodded his approval, laughing in a deep, masculine rumble as he said, “Good call.”
There wasn’t only one flavor of spanking devices; there were many beyond whips and paddles. I’d never heard of floggers outside of historical references. My brain would never be the same. Graham had popped my mental cherry hard and fast in the realm of fetish and kink.
“Did you see anything that expressly turned you on? We should try restraints,” he suggested, looking up from the chair across the room. He lowered the glasses he wore; God, I just thought of the next item on my list: him spanking and fucking me while wearing those. I lightly bit the tip of my pen and crossed my legs, twirling my ankle.
“Definitely.” I added that one to the spank bank, smirking, then I looked up to meet his heated gaze and my skin tightened, reveling in the way he watched me. I leaned forward, holding up the checklist. “I think you’ll be pleased. I not only agreed to blindfolds, padded benches, clamps, gags, and collars, but also some soft-looking ropes and straps since you mentioned a preference for binding. I also found a slew of toys I want us to use.”
“Good girl. Initial each page so the agreement will be fully executed.” He picked up his wine glass and continued staring over the rim at me while I did as he directed. I scribbled my initials on the line next to my name at the bottom of each page, causing about a million alarms bells to chime on alert inside my head.
“Now what?” I asked, smoothing out the papers when I’d finished.
He unfurled his long legs, brushing his hands down the top of his slacks before he rose and took the pen from my hand. As our fingers connected, an electrical jolt raced across my skin, making me bite my lip to keep from gasping. Leaning on his large palm, Graham initialed each page as I’d done.
After completing the last page, he met my gaze. “All right. Now, you’re mine, baby.”
He touched my face, running the pad of his thumb along my lips, and I absorbed the manner in which he commanded me using non-verbals. And those truly interested me. Then he walked back and retrieved his wine glass, downing the contents as I scooted to the edge of the chair.
“I liked it when you suggested I was wild. Not the idiot version.” For years, any suggestion or parallel to being call
ed wild, untamed, reckless came at me in heated debates, making me defensive and equally rebellious. Good, nice, stable. I’d been caught, not wanting to be pegged as either and had been stymied in discovering who I was. My fault and I wasn’t going to continue to live according to someone else’s vision. But with Graham, I wanted to be wild. I wanted to be untamed…reckless. “I want to be good at something besides being lost.”
“You will be. But don’t get hung up on adjectives. You change. They change. For now, we’ll be good together. And in my book, where you’re concerned, good equates to doing as I ask. That’s a turn-on to me. Well-behaved equals hot. And I always reward good, baby.”
I envisioned how hot good and well-behaved could be with him. “Being obedient doesn’t sound boring coming from your mouth.”
“Not where you’re concerned, Miss Hillwood.” Now, it was his turn to smirk. “Do you have any allergies to latex?” he inquired.
