Sinful (Undone)

by Jennifer Dawson

  Her teeth scrape over her bottom lip. “We all have choices.”

  “We do, and I’m going to exercise mine right now.” There are people milling around, it’s Saturday and the miniatures are a popular exhibit. But we’re tucked into a corner and my body is blocking hers, providing me just enough privacy to execute my plan. “You lost your option for a private bathroom, you’ll take them off here.”

  The nervous, excited panic that flashes across her expression makes me so hard she’ll be lucky to make it out of here in one piece. She shakes her head and whispers, “No way.”

  “Yes.” I give her an easy smile and she rightly shivers. See, she’s learning already. “And since I know you like to know the consequences let me lay them out for you. You’re covered here, by me, but I can assure you the next place will be much more open. If that doesn’t work, you’ll be putting on and taking off your panties in so many public places by the time I’m through you’ll whip them off without hesitation in the line at Starbucks. So, as you said, we all have choices…” I trail off, letting her fill in the blanks.

  She sucks in a breath. “That’s terrible.”

  “It is.” Although I can think of much worse ways to twist the screws, but this isn’t about pushing her or testing the limits of what she can take. This is about testing to see just how far these tendencies of hers go. If fear of exposure, of compliance despite her distress, flips her switch. Evidence I’ll discover as soon as she hands over her panties.

  Her gaze darts around the room, skidding along people’s faces while pink slashes across her high cheekbones. “I don’t know if I can.”

  I kiss her neck, letting my tongue slide along her soft skin. “You can. You’re strong and you’re capable, and I have complete faith in you.”

  The tension in her shoulders eases a bit and she exhales.

  Then, with excruciating slowness, she shifts toward the corner of the wall, squirms, glancing over her shoulder before reaching under her skirt. I try not to think about the fact that I’ve forgotten how to breathe or the hard thump of my heart against my ribs. It feels like an eternity but she finally pulls them down her endless legs and steps out.

  I hold out an open palm and she drops a scrap of pale pink lace into my hand before turning quickly away to stare into the tiny room with rapt attention.

  Her scent drifts over me, filling my senses, confirming what I’d already suspected. I don’t know how but my erection lengthens until it’s a painful press against the zipper of my jeans. I shift against her, and she’s so tall I slide right against the curve of her ass, making her effect on me crystal clear.

  I encircle her waist and take her hand, rubbing both our thumbs over the damp fabric. I whisper in her ear, “You’re wet.”

  I put her panties into my pocket, then work my fingers down the waistband of her skirt, sliding down and down until I stroke over her clit.

  She lets out a little gasp that drives me nearly out of my mind.

  I slip between her legs to find her soaked and I have to grit my teeth to keep from cursing.

  She clutches the wood frame and sways. “I’m sorry.”

  “Never be sorry.” My words a low growling sound and she shudders. “This room is not suited to the things I want to do to you.”

  That’s my excuse for ditching my plans, and not that I can’t hold out any longer. This need, it stirs my own unease, but I want her too much to care.

  “Please,” she says, her head leaning back to expose the delicate cords of her neck.

  “What do you want?”

  “You.”

  “Let’s go.” I take her hand and start out of the room.

  And without a word, she follows.

  Jillian

  On the threshold to Leo’s condo I find myself a nervous, shaking wreck.

  We’ve barely spoken on the way from the museum to his condo, although our hands have stayed tightly clasped. Ever since I conceded to his desire, stripped off my panties and dropped them into his hand, something has changed between us.

  Something fundamental and irreversible. Like I knew, in that one suspended moment, we’d never be able to go back. He’ll never again be my impossible crush. My dream boy I could concoct elaborate fantasies about. He’s real, sometimes scary, and what pulses between us is so intense it fills the air.

  Once I cross the barrier into his home he’ll be inside me, in my bones. Sex with him will change me, change us.

  The key turns in the lock and I swallow hard.

  The door opens and he starts to pull me inside, but I stop him.

  He looks back at me, his dark eyes impossibly black and fathomless.

  My breath stutters and catches in my chest as my pulse kicks up into a near frantic pace. I lick my lips, and I make my confession. “I-it’s been a while. I’m afraid.”

  His expression flashes, softens, and then he turns back to me. Without releasing me, he pulls me close with his free hand and strokes over my spine. “It’s okay, Jillian. We’ll go as slow as you need.”

  Emotion stings the back of my throat. “Are you disappointed?”

  He leans back and his eyes narrow. “Why would you think that?”

  I shrug, looking away. This is the worst possible time to say these things but I can’t seem to stop them. I just feel so…raw. So vulnerable and exposed. I need him to understand. To somehow communicate even a little of what’s rioting inside me. “I’m not the girl you need me to be.”

  Touch impossibly soft, he pushes my hair behind my ear. “I had plans. I had a long list in my head of all the things I was going to do with you. What would happen as we worked through the museum. I saw a room, dark and filled with columns that would have been the perfect place to execute my plans to drive you wild.”

  I have no idea where this is going, or what this has to do with my statement, but I don’t interrupt. I just hold my breath and wait.

  His thumb trails over my jaw. “After the museum we were going to walk through Millennium Park and I was going to make you tell me every single detail about yourself and answer every single question I’ve ever had about you. Then we’d make our way over to a little Italian cafe where they have the best pastries in the city. I was going to lick powder sugar from your lips and make you come under the table. After we strolled through the city, we’d get ready for the evening. I’d take you to dinner where I’d seduce you and learn you. Those were my plans for the day. But instead, we’re here in the middle of the afternoon, not doing any of that. And do you know why?”

  I shake my head.

  “Because I don’t have the patience or the control to execute. Because with you all my plans go straight to hell as soon as you look at me with those fucking needy eyes. Because I want you so damn much I can barely remember my name, let alone why I thought any of that was a good idea.” He leans down and brushes his mouth over mine. “Do you know the last time I had that happen?”

  “No.” The word shaky.

  “Never.”

  My heart drops to my stomach. “Oh.”

  “So I’d say you’re exactly the girl I need you to be.”

  It’s what I needed to hear. I gaze up at him, this man I have wanted forever. “Thank you.”

  “Are you ready?”

  I nod and over the threshold I go.

  While his speech calmed my insecurities they’d done nothing to calm my nerves. I drop my purse to the chair in the living room and then slide my jacket down my arms, letting it fall next to the bag. Throat dry, I look at Leo to find him watching me. I bite the inside of my cheek. “I’m still nervous.”

  He slips off his jacket, and tosses it on the kitchen counter, and we face off. “Why do you think that is?”

  My gaze darts around the room. “Because it matters. It changes things.”

  He nods and puts his hand on the granite, not making any move in my direction. “It does. We won’t be able to go back to what we were.”

  It occurs to me then, part of what’s so different
about him, it’s not just the sex thing, it’s his direct honesty. Most guys would start spinning a tale about how it would only change us if we let it or some such nonsense. Leo’s honesty is refreshing, but it’s also disconcerting. Sometimes we depend on the lies, those niceties we tell ourselves, to smooth the path.

  I tilt my head. “Doesn’t that worry you?”

  “Yes.” Simple. Straightforward. Direct. “But I want you more.”

  My heart skips a beat. “The reality of you is so different than my fantasies.”

  “I can imagine.”

  “Am I different?” Hopeful, my gaze flutters to him. We’re still on opposite sides of the room, like prizefighters in their separate corners.

  He smiles. “No, you’re just as difficult to manage as I thought you’d be.”

  I laugh and some of the tension between us eases. I eye the distance between us. “What are you waiting for?”

  “For you.”

  My brows knit. “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m waiting for you to wind down.” Another sinful smile. “I just don’t trust myself to do it close to you.”

  Somehow this makes me feel better, calmer. “So you’re tempted by me?”

  “Stop fishing.”

  My stomach settles. Our banter and teasing is something I understand. “Who me?”

  His gaze travels down my body. “You.”

  “Do I make you nervous?”

  “Definitely.”

  I’m not sure I believe him but before I can ask any more questions he cocks his head. “I can’t decide if I want you to take those boots off or leave them on?”

  “What’s the dilemma?”

  “I think they’d look good wrapped around my waist. But I might want you completely naked instead.” He flashes me the smile that’s been driving me crazy for too many years to count. “You decide.”

  I plant my hands on my hips. “So wait? Are you telling me I get a decision in these things?”

  He laughs. “Jillian, someday, probably quite soon, you’re going to be hating those words.”

  “I can’t see how, I like choice.” This easy back and forth has soothed me considerably, and I no longer feel like I’m going to jump out of my skin.

  “And I will give you plenty of them.” He straightens and suddenly his very presence seems to grow in the room. “But mark my words, at some point you’ll be sitting there wishing I’d take the choice away.”

  This confuses me, but I don’t want to think about it. I flip my hair. “Whatever.”

  “Sassy girl.” He shakes his head as though he can’t quite get over me.

  I jut my chin at him. “You like it, you said so yourself.”

  “I do.” He raises a brow. “What’s your choice?”

  My nerves kick back up but unlike before, there’s no panic. “I think I’ll leave them on.”

  “Good.” He plants his feet, and crosses his arms. He looks dark and imposing and a shiver races over me. “I’m going to give you fair warning.”

  My heart hammers against my ribs. “Yes?”

  “With the way I feel right now you’re in for a rough ride. Do you think you can handle that?”

  My mind flashes with all the images I ran across on the Internet. I blink, my lashes fluttering. “How do you feel?”

  “Feral.” The word is thick and heavy.

  I suck in my breath. “Will you hurt me?”

  “No. It’s too soon for anything like that.”

  Which leaves the possibility hanging out there in the future, another item added to the list I don’t want to think about. “All right.”

  He crooks a finger. “Then come to me.”

  I take one step before he stops me with a shake of the head. “Strip. Everything but the boots.”

  Shock rolls over me. “But—”

  He raises a hand. “Trust me, Jillian. This is not the time to test me.”

  I want to protest but the set of his jaw is a hard, unforgiving line and the words stall on my lips. I eye him. He’ll be fully clothed and I’ll be naked. That exposed vulnerability comes rushing back. I try one more time to see if I can get out of this. “Can we compromise?”

  “No.” His gaze flicks over my body.

  I guess my choices have come to an end. I take a deep breath, slowly exhaling.

  He nods, as though sensing my acceptance. “Just remember, I’ve already seen you naked.”

  Yes, but then I was sucked under his spell, dazed with desire, and not thinking about anything but the pleasure coursing through me. “That was different, I didn’t stroll across the room in broad daylight.”

  “Understood.” He juts his chin in my direction. “Now stop stalling and do what you’re told.”

  The statement causes a low stirring in my belly. I just need to get it over with. I can do this. It’s probably easy compared to the things he could make me do.

  When I pull my top over my head the hooding of his lids, the expression of pleasure and lust on his face, gives me confidence. He wants me, as much as I want him. A dark, hidden place inside me has a sudden desire to turn this into a show. To seduce him. Drive him wild. Just the thought sends heat rushing across my skin.

  I’m not sure I have the strength today, but it does empower me. I straighten my shoulders and lift my lashes. Our gazes lock.

  I slowly unclasp the front closure of my bra, peel the cups over my breasts, and let it flutter to the floor.

  A muscle works in his jaw, and his dark eyes are almost black.

  I’ve never seen him look so dangerous. Or so irresistible.

  My nipples pucker, pulling tight. My fingers slip along the waistband of my skirt, stroke along the button before pulling it open and sliding the zipper down. The skirt falls to the floor and I step out of it.

  “Good girl.” His voice is a rough rasp that causes shivers to race down my spine and sends goose bumps exploding over my skin.

  I feel vulnerable and exposed, but there’s something else there too, lurking below the surface.

  Power.

  As though some magnetic force connects us, I begin my walk across the room. When I’m standing in front of him, he reaches for me. His hands roam over the curve of my hips, up my waist, over my stomach. I’m suddenly hungry for him, understanding why he used the word feral to describe what’s between us.

  He brushes the underside of my breasts, which are full and heavy with anticipation, before he rubs his thumbs over my nipples.

  I bite back a moan.

  He moves back down my body, his hands a soft glide over my skin. He taps my thigh. “Open.”

  Before I can even think about it, my stance is widening.

  He makes a low sound in his throat and his fingers slide between my legs to stroke my slippery folds. He raises his gaze and I can’t even begin to describe the expression on his face. I only know I’ve never seen him wear it before and I hope to see him wear it over and over again.

  His attention dips to my mouth and I lick my lower lip as he circles my clit and that pounding desire roars to the surface. “Do you feel how wet you are?”

  I nod because there’s no denying my response.

  “Just remember this, Jillian. When you think you hate what I’m doing, some part of you wants this. Is responding to it.”

  And then he kisses me, sucking me under, drowning me in the sheer force of him.

  His mouth is brutality but his tongue sweet. The contrast making me ache in places I didn’t even know I had.

  As he clasps my hips, I wrap myself around him. The slightly rough fabric of his shirt abrades my nipples, making me gasp.

  He growls low in his throat, and grips my hair, fisting it in his hands and tugging to force my head where he wants it to go.

  When I surrender, the kiss grows hotter, deeper, wetter.

  I want to sink into it. Merge with him somehow, become a part of him and his mouth, so that on my deathbed it will be the last kiss I remember.

  He turns me around
, pushes me back three steps. I hit a wall.

  He presses against me; his clothed body abrades my naked flesh. Cotton and texture and denim sliding along my skin, making me moan, driving me crazy.

  I dig my nails into the back of his neck, needing him closer.

  His thigh pushes its way between my legs and my clit drags across his hard muscles.

  I want more.

  I need more.

  I arch to my tiptoes, hook my leg on his hip and try and climb into him.

  He bites my lip, pulls me off the wall like he’s going to move me but then I’m once again slammed against the hard surface.

  He grasps my hips with both hands and drags me up and down his leg. I’m moaning and gasping, making low, guttural sounds that will embarrass me later but now make me too damn hot.

  He pulls away and whispers against my lips, “Keep riding me, girl. But stop before you come. I’m going to be fucking you when this needy pussy of yours explodes.”

  Never in my life has anyone talked so dirty to me. It enflames me. Lights me up and I don’t know, I can’t even think.

  He releases my hips, shimmies me up. I don’t think of protesting. I rock against him. Rubbing away with a slow, filthy grind and it feels so good my head falls back against the wall.

  “That’s right, just like that. Fucking gorgeous.” He dips his head and pushes my breasts together and licks first one nipple then the other. Then he sucks. Bites. Nips. Pinches and pulls.

  The orgasm wells like a tsunami inside me and I abruptly stop.

  He lifts his head, leans back and, staring deep into my eyes, strips off his shirt. “Again.”

  He kisses me, and his bare chest touches my abused breasts and it’s like an electric shock.

  I rock against his thigh but almost immediately I’m in danger of coming and I stop, shaking my head. “Leo. I can’t.”

  He grips my hips and rolls me over him.

  I dig my hands over his shoulders. “Oh god, stop if you don’t want me to come.”

  “We’ll have to work on your discipline.” His voice is low and filled with a smoky lust. “Put your legs around my waist.”

  He hoists me up, carries me down the hall and into his bedroom. I don’t have time to process my surroundings before I’m thrown onto a soft, chocolate-brown comforter. He grips my knees and pulls me forward, placing my boot-covered feet to balance on the bed frame, before he splays my thighs.