Sinful (Undone)

by Jennifer Dawson

  “Good girl.” He encircles my left ankle and positions my foot on the couch, then presses a big palm over my opposite knee, opening me wide. He pushes a pillow under the small of my back, takes both of my arms and tucks my hands between me and the pillow, before pressing my shoulders back into the corner of the couch. He stands up, gives me a once over, then nods. “Perfect.”

  Sitting like this, with one foot on the couch and the other on the floor, and my arms behind me, leaves me open and exposed. On display. Watched. Studied.

  I shudder, and excitement courses through my blood.

  When our gazes lock, his expression is knowing. “You like being watched?”

  I lick my lips. “I like you watching me.”

  He leans down, and his fingers slide between my legs. “Quite a lot, I see.”

  My head falls back as he strokes me. Oh god he’s so good at that, and I’ve been on edge forever.

  His hand falls away. “Eyes on me, girl.”

  My lids snap open and I blink up at him.

  “Did you want to come today?”

  I had, more than I could even admit to. It was like after a sexual famine my body was coming alive and couldn’t get enough. I felt…insatiable. Needy. Wanting. “Yes.”

  He nods. “And did you?”

  I shake my head.

  “Why?”

  I nibble at my bottom lip, seeing the trap he’s set for me, but unable to squirm out of it, but worse, not knowing if I want to. I inhale, the sound uneven. Tonight, with him watching me, I want to admit the truth. “Because you told me not to.”

  He steps closer to me and leans down, slipping his hands to where I’m wet and wanting and bringing his lips to my ear. He circles my clit and whispers, “Did it make you want it all the more?”

  “Yes.” The word a gasp. It had.

  “Did it preoccupy you?”

  “Yes.”

  His teeth scrape over my neck, and his tongue licks against my throat, while his fingers move with a deftness that leaves me breathless. “And knowing your stubbornness was the only thing stopping you from getting your orgasm, how’d that make you feel?”

  His fingers are sliding inside me, pumping once, twice, before stroking hard and fast over my clit. The movements are driving me absolutely mad, pushing me closer to the edge without sending me flying over. “Needy. Hot.”

  He presses an open-mouthed kiss to my neck. “Are you starting to see why I might want you all hot and needy for me?”

  “Yes.” I cry out and then arch into his fingers, but just before the first swell of pleasure hits, he pulls away and stands up.

  My chest is literally heaving like some bad romance novel. I stare up at him, the defiance and demands filling my throat, but refusing to leave my lips.

  He smiles, slow and evil. “I can see your struggle playing out across your face.”

  I don’t say anything, I just pant up at him.

  “I like it.” He nods, as though he couldn’t be more pleased with my predicament. “It suits you.”

  When I still don’t speak he tilts his head. “For being such a good girl and smart enough to keep your mouth shut, I think it’s only fair you get that orgasm you want so badly, don’t you?”

  A distant part of me is standing there slightly horrified I’m in this situation. Naked and spread out, so desperate I’m not sure I can even remember my name. But I’m not horrified enough to stop. I nod.

  Another smile. “Since you like choices, I’m going to give you one.”

  The hair on the nape of my neck stands straight up in warning. It’s a trap, I know it’s a trap, and I can only sit here, wetness spreading over my thighs, and watch helpless as the trap springs shut around me.

  “You have three choices, Jillian. You can edge while I watch you, bringing yourself close to orgasm but never going over until I say so. You can get over my knee, and let me spank that gorgeous ass of yours until I’m satisfied and make you come so hard you see stars.” Another cruel, knowing smile. “Or you could always go with no orgasm at all. And it’s all your decision.”

  A thousand thoughts explode through my mind at once, warring and vying for attention. What I want. What I’m afraid of. Who I am and what I’m becoming. That I knew my choice as soon as he said it but don’t know how to say the words out loud. Worse, I suspect he knows exactly what I want but is making me choose anyway. His words from yesterday ring through my head, a warning that sometimes a choice isn’t a good thing.

  He is always right.

  I hate that he’s always right.

  But all this hate and the raging emotions storming away inside me don’t change that I can feel my excitement burning, threatening to incinerate me. I shudder as wetness trickles down the crease of my ass. Made all the hotter and more depraved because I know he can see it too.

  He meets my gaze and there’s an electricity between us that’s so strong, so powerful I can’t even begin to describe it. It’s so alive I can almost reach out and touch it. If I could, I’d paint it. Or pound it into metal or stone to capture it in some way.

  “What’s making you so wet?” His voice is thick with lust and heat and I want to roll around in it forever. “Is it me watching you? Open and exposed? Unable to hide?” His gaze skips over my breasts, the curve of my hips, over my stomach to rest where I want him most. “Is it the thought of coming with me watching? Or the idea of being turned over my knee?”

  I suck air into my tight lungs. “Everything. You.”

  “What’s it going to be, Jillian?”

  I can’t quite force myself to say the words and I stumble over the ones I settle for. “O-over your knee?”

  It comes out like a question, hesitant and as unsure as I feel.

  “You want me to spank you?”

  Do I? Why? But even as the questions tumble through my mind I nod.

  “Say the words.”

  My nipples pull impossibly tighter, made all the more obvious by the position of my arms behind my waist. I clench my hands into fists. “Leo.”

  “Say them.” His voice is soft, understanding even, and not filled with barking demand or impatience.

  I bite my lip. I don’t care. I want this. Everything else will have to wait. “I want you to spank me.”

  I feel the flush spread out over my skin, but he thankfully makes no comment. He just goes and sits down on the couch, and crooks a finger at me.

  I spring like a shot from my position, falling toward him and he catches me, just before his lips claim mine.

  I moan and move closer, climbing on top of him and wrapping myself around him like I’m afraid he’ll be ripped away from me. His fingers tangle in my hair, holding me close as our tongues meet, our lips meld and our breathing becomes one. I straddle him, and my slickness rubs along his stomach, making us both gasp and moan.

  He stops for the briefest of moments to whisper against my mouth, “I fucking want you so goddamn bad.”

  My fingers dig into his shoulders. “Yes.”

  Our lips cling, becoming harder and more insistent.

  He grips my hips, stilling my slide against his skin. “Let’s see how much more you can take. Over my knee.”

  I can’t explain it, it’s like every thought has been dumped from my head. Leaving behind some base, primal version of myself that wants only what he’ll give me. Before I can think about the strangeness, the thought flits away and I’m left with nothing but the desire to do what he tells me.

  I don’t even have to think about it. I move, draping myself over his thighs. I let my head hang down, my hair falling like a curtain around my face.

  He curses the filthiest things I’ve ever heard. Squeezes my ass, and then shifts my legs until they part and my clit presses against his denim-clad leg. His fingers glide over my wet, swollen flesh. He circles my clit, working me into a frenzy of desire. I jerk and lift my ass to get him closer and just before I come he stops.

  He rubs over my skin, with a hard, delicious, slightly rough
palm. Then he strikes me, not gentle, or soft, or exploratory. Just a full-on slap that explodes over my skin and races along my spine, shocking me still.

  Then he does it again, waiting, and when heat rolls through me I moan.

  I have never felt anything like this, but if I could feel this every day for the rest of my life, I would die a happy woman.

  He squeezes my hot cheeks, then slaps me again.

  Over and over.

  Up the curve of my hips, over the fullness of my ass, down to my upper thighs. He builds a rhythm between hard and soft until I can hear nothing but the sound of his palm hitting my skin and the blood rushing in my ears. I close my eyes, my muscles ease, and everything goes quiet as I surrender to the sensations cresting through me, and the odd peace in my mind.

  His hand smooths over my hot flesh before dipping down between my legs, circling my clit. I’m soaked and desire rushes over me, blurring my vision as something monstrous coils tight, and when I’m about to snap he’s gone.

  The slaps begin again. Raining down. In an endless rhythm.

  Then fingers are between my legs.

  He repeats this.

  Over.

  And over.

  And over again.

  Until I’m riding the swell and crest of waves, and my body no longer feels like it belongs to me. I’m just one big mess of need and want. Lust and desire.

  And I’m free, of what I don’t know, but it’s there, flying high above me, soaring in the wind.

  Time loses all meaning. It’s pain. And pleasure. A meshing of the two that combines into the best thing I’ve ever felt.

  His fingers stroke over my clit, in a hard, demanding rhythm, filled with purpose.

  I burst.

  The orgasm crashes over me, shaking my legs and arms, making me thrash as I come apart. Shattering from the inside out, with the most exquisite pleasure I have ever known. I lose myself in the sheer beauty of life and love as a kaleidoscope of colors dance behind my closed lids.

  I don’t relax as much as I melt, feeling like I could slide right into the earth, and become one with it.

  With soft, gentle hands Leo lifts me, turns me over and cuddles me into his lap. Kissing my temple and murmuring soft, unintelligible sounds and rubbing my back in slow circles.

  He whispers against my ear, “I’d cover you with a blanket, but mine’s been taken from me.”

  I laugh, bury my head in his neck, twining my arms around him. Something tight wells in my chest and I don’t have any idea why, but I start to cry. Hot, wet tears trail down my cheeks and drip onto Leo’s strong broad chest but he doesn’t even pause.

  He just holds me tighter. “You’re okay, Jilly. It will pass and when you’re done you’ll feel fresh and new, like a weight you didn’t even know you carried around has lifted.”

  I nod, trusting he knows this, but too emotional to ask questions.

  He rubs my back. “Let it all out.”

  I clutch at his neck and whisper, “Don’t leave me.”

  He kisses the top of my head and tucks me closer and when he speaks his voice is thick. “Never.”

  And with that, I give myself over to the storm and let it take me away.

  Leo

  Cuddled up close to me, Jillian cries as I hold her. Soothing her with slow, gentle touches and nonsense words as my own mind spins.

  I’d never seen anything quite like what I’d witnessed with Jillian stretched out long and lean over my legs.

  It hadn’t been at all what I was expecting.

  No, I’d expected the defiant, sassy girl that sat glaring at me on my couch, naked and ready to curse my existence.

  I’d expected playful. Light and funny.

  I’d expected squeals and resistance, her fighting her reactions and me.

  I’d expected some easy swats to get her used to the idea followed by the good, hard fuck we’d both been craving since we’d parted this morning.

  I had not expected what I got.

  That utter, complete surrender. The way her muscles dissolved under my touch, her head and neck relaxed, and the way she just seeped right into me. Into herself.

  I’d seen girls slip into that far-off place before but never quite that quickly and easily, and not the way Jillian had done it.

  Almost…seamlessly. I could tell the exact moment her mind let go and she just went with what was happening to her and it had been stunning to witness.

  And when she came, her whole body shuddering, I’d never seen anything so abandoned and gorgeous.

  I wasn’t surprised when she dropped like a stone and I’d sit here forever if that’s what it took for her to recover.

  But I was shaken. Shaken in a way I can’t quite articulate.

  I’d felt…connected to her somehow. Like we’d been bound together by some unexplainable force of nature. It’s like I could see her thoughts, experience her emotions, and my own body rose and fell in the rhythm of hers.

  I hadn’t felt connected to another living human being since the night my brother died. I’d loved people. I love my mom and dad, my sisters. I even love my friends.

  But it isn’t like it had been with Tony. My identical twin I’d known as well as I’d known myself. What they say about twins being part of the same whole, it’s true. My mom always tells the story about how we’d developed our own secret language when we’d been babies, that when we’d nap we’d sleep with our foreheads touching, as though we were sharing one mind. And as we grew up, we’d drifted into plain old English but that silent language between us remained.

  The night he died, I’d been on a date with some girl whose name I can’t even remember. We’d been fooling around in my car, my hand up her shirt, my mouth hungry on hers when I’d felt it. One second I’d been a horny teenager, the next I’d been consumed with the notion something was wrong.

  Somehow I’d known. I’d felt it deep in my bones, sinking into my skin, swallowing me whole.

  When he died it was like someone had severed an invisible limb and part of me shut off and died right along with him.

  Until Jillian surrendered into me, and some bond snapped into place, connecting me to her. In that moment, it felt like I’d been woken up from a semi-sleep for the first time in forever, leaving me shaken. Explaining the fear nipping at my heels this morning.

  She holds my heart in the palm of her hand and she can destroy me.

  She stirs in my arms and I looked down at her. Pink cheeks, parted lips, dark lashes sweeping down to cover her eyes from me.

  She shifts again. “Leo?”

  “What do you need, baby?” My voice is full of husky emotion.

  “Thank you,” she says, her voice sleepy. “I’m sorry.”

  I smooth her hair. “You’ve nothing to be sorry for.” I brush my mouth over her lips. “That was the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.”

  She nuzzles in closer, like a kitten nestling into a special spot only they recognize. “You’re right.”

  “About what?”

  Her lashes flutter open and when she opens her eyes, the color blazes green with shards of gold. “I do feel brand new. Like I can conquer the whole world.”

  The tightness in my chest, eases. “Then god help us all.”

  She laughs, and it sounds like music. “Everybody better watch out, because I’m coming and nobody can stop me.”

  I didn’t have a doubt in my mind. She’d conquered me without even trying.

  Jillian

  I can’t explain what’s happening to me. Or how I feel. I just know I’m more alive than I’ve ever been, and I’m bursting with energy and enthusiasm for life. I’d slept at Leo’s again, and after the incredible experience on the couch where every emotion I had poured out of me, I’d felt like a brand-new person. Like I could do anything.

  After I’d come out of my stupor, and worked through the feelings of loss that had made me cry my eyes out, I’d been full of vigor and Leo had fucked me into oblivion again and again and again. Some
time in the early morning he’d kissed me goodbye and I’d slept in his bed until eleven thirty.

  I had no idea how the man was even functioning with so little sleep, but I was more well rested and alert than I can remember. After I left his apartment, this time stealing a Boba Fett T-shirt from his closet, I took the long way home, walking through the Chicago streets like I’d never seen them before.

  Heather was already gone when I got home, leaving me in an empty apartment. I took a shower, and sat down with my iPad and started Googling careers in art. I had abandoned those dreams as fanciful and impractical, like everyone kept telling me, a long time ago, but this morning I knew ignoring my future was no longer a possibility. I see now where I went wrong. I assumed that because I didn’t have the talent necessary to be an artist that I had no options, but I realize now how limited my thinking was. There was a whole world out there I hadn’t considered.

  The reasons for avoiding my career came into a crystal-clear focus. I kept waiting for that special thing to come along that I’ll love as much as I love all things art, but the truth is that’s never going to happen. Art is what I love. Art is what I need to be doing with my life.

  I’d researched careers for a good two hours, listing all the areas that interested me, and digging deeper into each one. And I kept coming back to one. Was it really that simple? Had the answer been in front of me the whole time and I’d just been too dumb to see it? With every new search, my excitement grew. An art dealer. It had all the components I loved.

  Could I?

  I bit my bottom lip. I investigate the requirements, and I actually think it’s possible. In college I’d gotten a very practical finance degree because that’s what everyone told me to get, and I hadn’t had any other good ideas. I did minor in art history, because it was what I loved. So I had the beginnings of a foundation there.

  I also had connections. Lots of connections. Because of my father’s company I had access to rich, powerful people who had connections to other rich, powerful people. They needed something to spend their money on. I was also fantastic with people.