Leo leans down, bites my neck and I keen as I rock into his hand, desperate and wanton now.
He whispers in my ear, “Anytime. Anyplace. Anyway I want. You’re mine.”
The press of his fingers increases, becoming insistent. I bow off the wall as I teeter on the precipice.
And then he stops.
Just like that.
He steps away and grins down at me. “I’ll see you soon.”
“Where are you going?” My voice is loud, demanding.
He can’t leave me like this.
“Home, to take a shower and get changed.” His expression is all mock innocent and I want to punch him. “Don’t forget, you have to ask first.”
I’m so on edge, all common sense and strategy flies right out the window. “I most certainly will not.”
He cocks a brow. “We’ll see. Won’t we?”
“You’ll never know.”
He doesn’t look impressed. “So which is it? You’re so needy to come you’ll sneak off? Or masturbation is no big deal?”
He’s twisting my words, backing me into a corner.
He smiles, and continues, “You said yourself you could cruise through at least a month, so a couple hours should be, what were the words you used? A cake walk.”
“But… But…” I sputter, at a loss for anything scathing to say.
“After all, I’m not that irresistible.” He smirks, letting his eyes roam all over my body. “I’ll pick you up at eleven, and don’t forget to wear that skirt.”
And then he’s out the door, and I can only stand there, my mouth hanging open, my body on fire.
Okay, I’ll admit it.
Suddenly, I’m obsessed with coming.
After he shut the door in my face, I stalk around my apartment and throw what I can only describe as a mini temper tantrum. Vacillating between righteous female indignation that I could do what I wanted, when I wanted, and no man will ever tell me differently, and I’m-not-going-to-give-him-the-satisfaction tirade.
Once I worked that out of my system I make my way to my bedroom in an impressive huff, witnessed by no one. I stomp around my room, packing my bag and muttering exaggeratedly about how impossible he is. Then I slam the bathroom door with considerable force, which does give me a small sense of gratification.
So there’s something.
In the shower, I’m determined I will not give one single thought to sex, orgasms, or the infuriating Leo. I make every attempt to be as efficient as possible, with swift, economical movements but, unfortunately, I keep getting distracted on all the good parts. Lingering a bit too long on my breasts, circling my nipples.
In a moment of weakness, I forget my resolve, my determination to be above it all. I let out a tiny moan, and lean against the tiled wall of the shower as my soapy hands slick over my skin. I can’t explain it—my reaction—but it’s like I’m enflamed. I get lost, replaying every second of my night with Leo.
The way he touched me.
The feel of his mouth on mine.
How he held me down.
His hand around my neck, that slow squeeze mixed with his ruthless fingers.
How I came so hard.
A restless ache grows between my legs. The water beats against my skin, as hot, demanding desire storms over me. I gasp and my body quickens with the first sign of impending orgasm.
My eyes snap open and I jerk my hands away.
What in god’s name am I doing? What has gotten into me?
I mean, sure, I like sex, and what kind of maniac doesn’t like orgasms? But this…neediness pounding through my blood is ridiculous.
I take a deep, steadying breath and ignore the sudden greedy demands of my body. I am not falling for this trap he’s laid for me.
How dare he put me in a situation I can’t win.
I finish my shower as clinically as I can, trying not to think about why I stopped. Was it because Leo told me to? Or because I wanted to prove my point that I wasn’t that desperate kind of girl?
Honestly, I didn’t know. I only knew one thing in this moment: There was no way in hell I was calling Leo and asking him anything.
All right, I need to calm down. I’ll call Gwen, because she’s rational and pragmatic and doesn’t see the point in getting all crazy about a guy. She’s the perfect person to talk to.
I make quick work of toweling off, ignoring the rub of the terry cloth over my sensitive, aching nipples, and slip into a robe. I run to the kitchen, grab my cell, and plop down on the couch.
Thank god she picks up in half a ring. She doesn’t bother with hello. “Well, well, well…color me impressed. You broke the great Leo Santoro.”
Did I? Because it didn’t quite feel that way. I let out a scream. “Oh my god, I’m freaking out.”
Gwen laughs, all good-natured and collected. “I assume he left?”
“He did, but I don’t have much time, he’s picking me up at eleven and I’m just out of the shower.”
“Hang on.” There’s a pause followed by a loud click. “I’m at the restaurant so I had to close the door. Start talking.”
I pick up the tie of my belt and twist it in my fingers. “You were right. He’s not like I thought.”
“Oh no. In a good way or a bad way?”
I furrow my brow, exhaling deeply. “I don’t know yet.”
Gwen makes some sympathetic noises. “Well, you said there were orgasms, so it couldn’t have been that horrible.”
I glance around the room, the hairs on the back of my neck prickling like someone is watching me. I look over my shoulder, but of course I’m alone. God, I’m being so silly. My voice drops to a whisper, “The orgasms were fantastic. And I don’t just mean, yeah they were good, I’m talking rock-your-world orgasms.”
“Sounds good so far, so what’s the problem.”
Again my attention darts around the room. “He’s kind of kinky.”
“Hmmm…do tell?” She doesn’t sound surprise, in fact she sounds kind of amused.
“So I guess he likes to dominate. Whatever that means.” I shift on the couch. “I’m still trying to figure it out.”
Gwen doesn’t say anything for a beat. “Does he dress up in masks and latex?”
Horror flashes through me as the images from the Internet come back. “I… Um… Don’t think so.”
“Did he ballgag you?”
“Of course not!”
“Tie you up?”
“No.” I’m not about to admit the tiny tremor that races over my skin at the idea.
“Whip you with a flogger.”
I can only shake my head. “What have you been reading?”
“I hear things.” She chuckles. “Okay, so if he didn’t do any of those things, what did he do?”
I blink. That’s a good question actually. What exactly did he do? I twist my belt tight around my finger and imagine it wrapped around my wrists, Leo standing over me. Where are these thoughts coming from?
“Jillian?”
I clear my throat. “He held me down and made me come.”
“That’s it?” She sounds disappointed. “Sounds pretty tame to me.”
I furrow my brow. On the surface it was tame, and I don’t know how to explain the abstract difference, but I give it my best shot. “It was more the way he did it. Like he forced it out of me instead of talking me into it. Does that make sense?”
“Not particularly. But let’s focus on the important stuff. Did you have a good time?”
I nod, before remembering she can’t see me. “Yeah, it was awesome.”
“Then enjoy it! Stop thinking and just go for it. I’ve been listening to you talk about him forever.” She raises her voice as though I might be slightly dense. “This is what you wanted. So he get’s a little forceful, you can handle that. Don’t start talking yourself out of him before you’ve even started.”
This is why I love my Gwen; she’s so reasonable. Because, of course, she’s right. I’m freaking out over nothing.
“Of course I am, now go get ready and have a great day with your dream boy.”
“All right, I will.” I hang up, calmer now, ready to get all dolled up for my day with Leo.
It all went great until I opened my closet door to pick out an outfit.
He’d told me to wear a skirt and I hadn’t protested. Suddenly the war kicks back up in me again. I was in another one of those damned if you do and damned if you don’t situations.
If I wear a skirt, I was conceding he had some power over me.
If I wear jeans, I was being openly defiant.
Which, I can’t deny, after the last hour, sounds enticing. But at what cost? How could I see what this whole submission deal was about if I disregarded the first thing he asked of me? I huff. Fine, I’d wear the skirt, but he was crazy if he thought I’d ever call and ask for orgasms.
I straighten my shoulders, and went back to business.
After hemming and hawing I picked a faded jean skirt with strategically place rips and a ragged little edge. Complying gave me another type of satisfaction I didn’t want to think about. That made me nervous.
I slip on my black, long-sleeved T-shirt over my head, pull on a pair of knee-high sweater socks, and calf-length boots by Steve Madden before I stand back to survey the results.
I’m not going to lie; I’m pleased with the result. My hair came out great, all messy and beachy, even though it was fall. The T-shirt I wore was scoop necked and tight across my ribs, ending at the hem of my skirt, which came to mid thigh. Combined with my cute socks, and trendy boots, my legs look phenomenal. I smile.
I might have worn the skirt because he told me too, but I couldn’t deny the thought of him watching me walk around in it all day put a little extra swing in my step. I stroll over to my dresser and put on a pair of earrings and adorned my wrists with four layers of Alex and Ani bracelets.
The buzzer rings. I bound into the living room and push the buzzer to send him up. Nerves kick up and my pulse leaps in my throat. He was here. I was going to be with him all day and all night. I was going to sleep in his bed.
He was going to touch me.
He knocks and I pull open the door in a great flurry.
Oh god, he looks good. He wore jeans and a charcoal-gray pullover that highlighted his broad shoulders and narrowed waist. Just looking at him made that mad desire rush over me, mixing with my neediness built up all morning.
And I don’t know, some sort of sassiness kicks up.
I plant my hand on one hip, cock a brow and say the first thing that pops into my mind. “If you wear a bunch of masks and latex, I’m out of here.”
Leo
My first response is to laugh, but I can see Jillian’s got it in her head to be feisty. Despite what she thinks, I have no problem with that. Besides, I wouldn’t dream of ruining her fun.
I cock my brow right back, crossing my arms and say in a deadpan voice, “Don’t worry, you’ll come to like it.”
Her hazel eyes grow wide as saucers and a flush spreads over her chest. “I most certainly will not. I’m putting it in my contract.”
Someone’s been doing a little reading. Drawing up a big contract with a checklist really isn’t my style. Not that I’m about to tell her that. “Contract?”
She waves a hand. “Yeah, you know. An agreement of my limits.”
I repress a smile and step across the threshold. She takes a tiny step back. She looks incredible and all I really want to do is throw her over the arm of the couch, yank that skirt up to her waist and drive into her. If this wasn’t the first time, I would, but since it is, I rein in my lust, preparing to be patient as I drive her crazy.
I give her my most serious, cop face, and nod. “My lawyer is working up the legally binding document, you’ll have your chance to make modifications.”
She opens her lips with a little inhalation. “He is?”
I do laugh now. “Of course not. Sex contracts aren’t legally binding.”
She nibbles some of the pink gloss from her lips. “Well, latex is off the table.”
I step toward her and she takes another step back. I enjoy her nervousness far more than she’d be comfortable knowing. Nerves and excited fear are like crack to me, and she’s playing right into my hands, although she doesn’t realize it.
I have no idea where this will lead, or if it will end in disaster, but since I can’t stay away from her, and I clearly don’t want anyone else to have her, I’m going to take pleasure in being with her now. Of disabusing her of her notions and making her confront the reality versus her fantasies. Or in this case, nightmares. “What else is on your list?”
Her tongue darts across her lower lip. “You don’t have one of those flogger things, do you?”
I take another step and she retreats. I wonder if it’s intentional or instinctual. Or maybe both. I do have a flogger, but rarely use it. “Not really my thing.”
Relief flashes over her expression and before she can get too comfortable, I follow up with, “You might wish it was though.”
“Why’s that?”
I advance on her and she comes in contact with the couch. After I’d left her this morning I’d given it some thought, contemplating between taking it easy on her, or just going with my natural inclinations. I give her my most evil smile. “It’s a lot softer than a belt.”
Two guesses what I picked.
“Oh!” Color splashes high on her cheekbones. “You wouldn’t.”
“I would.” I crowd in on her, putting my hands on her hips. “Where are you going to run now, little girl?”
Her breath kicks up a notch. “I’m not running.”
I ignore the denial, instead choosing to focus on her attire. I know Jillian. She’s independent, spirited, and walks her own path. She’s also stubborn and tenacious. All good traits in a woman, but they are also unpredictable. When I left I wasn’t sure she’d follow my instructions, that she did, gives me a hope I don’t want to think too much about. “Aren’t you a good girl, doing what you’re told?”
She blushes on top of her already hot cheeks and tries to push my hands away. “Stop that.”
Not on my life. I slide my hands up the curve of her waist and back down, squeezing her hips as she shudders.
Brandon is right; I am an idiot. There’s a part of Jillian that responds to being dominated, handled. It excites her and scares her and makes her wet. How far it goes is anyone’s guess at this point, but it’s there. I was just too busy trying to resist her to notice. I ask the other important topic on the table. “Did you come?”
“Of course not!” Her voice goes up three octaves.
I believe her, but she struggled, of that I’m equally sure. I lean in, sliding my thigh between her slightly splayed legs, forcing them wider open. “Did you touch yourself?”
A sharp inhalation, before her tongue sneaks out, wets her bottom lip and her gaze darts away. “Um…”
I grin and slide my hands to the curve of her breasts, stroking the undersides and watching her pupils dilate. “Let me guess, in the shower.”
She jumps, her expression turning guilty.
Goddamn, I’m going to have a good time.
I rub my thumbs over her nipples, and she pulses against my thigh, her lips parting. “All that slippery wet skin got the best of you, huh?”
Her breathing kicks up another notch and her hands rest on the couch arm, her fingers curling into the fabric. “Um…”
Continuing to abrade her nipples, I lean down and lick her bottom lip before drawing it between my teeth and scraping over her flesh. She undulates against my leg until she finds the sweet spot that makes her gasp.
“It’s just a matter of time, girl.” I raise my thigh so it presses more fully against her. She responds by her vision going unfocused and rocking her clit against me. I grin. “Until you make that call.”
She pants out, “No never.
” The words don’t hold a lot of meaning as she arches her back, silently asking for a harder touch.
I don’t deliver.
She slips into needy, wanton girl mode with ridiculous ease. I’ve barely even started and she’s already hot and ready. With hardly a push I could have her fucking my leg and begging to come. She’d hate to know it, but she also doesn’t understand it makes her even more irresistible. Making a girl so desperate she’ll forget her surroundings, her propriety and shrug off her civility as she gives into her base, primal urges is probably one of my favorite things.
Along with denial.
And I’m going to give Jillian quite the ride.
Jillian
I don’t know what’s wrong with me, or how to stop it, but I’m so hot you could strike a match off me. In the distant recesses of my brain I know I’m not making a compelling argument, or hell, even a horrible one, but I can’t get any words to formulate.
Not with Leo’s thumbs moving in maddening circles over my nipples and his thigh rubbing between my legs. I’m already so on edge, having been close to orgasm without going over at least twice this morning, the third time is barreling toward me like a runaway freight train.
I swear I’m not normally like this, but Leo has some sort of gift, and is driving me crazy.
He presses more firmly against my clit and plucks at my nipples.
My head falls back and the little involuntary movements I’d been making transform into a full on grind against his leg. A horrified part of me stands by, watching, but it feels too damn good to stop.
And I want to come so, so bad.
He presses a hard kiss to my lips.
I want more. More. More. More.
Abruptly he stops, steps back and jerks his head toward the door. “Let’s go.”
My head snaps up and I blink at him, my mouth hanging open. I’d been close. So close. I sputter, “But…”
“You’re going to have to work harder than that if you want to come, Jillian.” He crosses his arms, a stern expression on his face that causes my belly to jump. “A lot harder.”
Indignation and desperation mix together, I forgot myself. I straighten, clench my hands into fists, and yell, “You, you, jerk!”
Sinful (Undone) Page 12
