“All of it?” My voice squeaks, but Liam doesn’t waver.
“All of it,” he says in that stern, take-no-bullshit tone that makes me simultaneously thrilled and terrified. Then he cups my cheek in his hand and adds softly, “All of you.”
Arousal shoots straight to my sex like a flaming arrow seeking its target, but it’s accompanied by a lifetime of fear of letting go, of being vulnerable and giving anyone the power to hurt me. Can I do this? I’m powerless to say no. Some little part of me had wanted to keep a little control over things tonight, but faced with the choice of giving myself wholly to Liam or going back to Charleston, back to my old life with regret, if we even survive…it’s a no-brainer. If I’m really going to be different, if I’m really going to learn to ride the waves and experience the thrill that comes from actually living, I have to stop planting my feet in the sand. And I want this experience with Liam more than I’ve ever wanted anything.
“Okay.”
The smile he gives me could power the entire resort. “Give me your wrists.”
“What?”
“Give me your wrists.” His voice has lowered an octave and has a rasp to it that is doing strange things to my insides.
Oh God. “Um. I…we…maybe we should take this slow?” I stammer.
“Oh, we will.” The way he says it makes me think we’re not talking about the same thing. “Now give me your wrists.”
“I have a better idea. Why don’t we sit on the patio for a few minutes, maybe talk a little…”
I trail off as he closes the distance between us in two steps, his fingers in my hair as he wraps my hair around his hand and tugs, forcing my head back. Distant memories of my dad flash through my mind and I think he’s going to be angry—after all, I’ve just proven I can’t even do the first thing he’s asked me without arguing—but instead he presses his lips to my neck, kissing me softly. “You always think you have a better idea, don’t you?” he says softly.
This is Liam. Not my father, but the man who makes me feel safe, who makes me laugh, who somehow makes me feel empowered with every ounce of control I give up.
“Well, um…mmmmm.” I sigh with pleasure as his lips slowly travel toward my ear. “I do have pretty good ideas.”
“How are we going to settle this battle for control we seem to have?” His teeth are nibbling on my earlobe now. “Especially since you keep telling me you want to lose it.”
“Ummm.” I can’t think straight with his tongue tracing the outline of my ear.
With my hair still tightly gripped in his hand, he tugs my head back. His eyes are glittering as he says, “Don’t get me wrong, sweetheart. I get horny as hell when you make lists and get all organized and try to control shit, because that’s when you need me to distract you most. To put you to work and quiet your mind. But if you want to dance, then you’re going to have to trust me to lead. You’re going to have to give me all of you. Starting with your wrists.”
I take a deep breath. I can do this.
Wordlessly, I hold my wrists out to him. Sometimes, you just have to dance with the devil, even though you know how it’s going to end.
The smile he gives me would have been enough to convince me if I hadn’t already made up my mind. He pulls a length of soft rope out of his pants pocket and gently pulls my arms behind my back. Holding both of my wrists easily in one hand, he uses the other to wind the rope around my wrists, securing them together tightly without cutting off my circulation, then spins me around again to face him. My breath is suddenly coming in short little pants. I’ve never felt more vulnerable. Or more turned on.
“You just happen to keep rope in your pocket?”
The corners of his eyes crinkle. “No. I told the front desk there was a creaky door I wanted to tie closed.”
I watch as he pulls his knife from its holster at his waist. I think he’s going to lay it on the table, but instead, he slides it under the strap of my sundress and tugs, slicing through the material.
“What are you—?” He cuts the other strap with the slightest flick of his wrist and the dress pools at my feet. “You do realize that was the only dress I have.”
“I’ll buy you a dozen more in Malaysia. Tonight, I want to see what’s mine.”
His? My heart leaps, and my pulse thunders.
He cuts the strap of my bra, and it joins my dress on the floor. I can feel my nipples tighten as the cool air whispers across my now bared breasts.
“Mine,” he repeats. He presses the flat edge of the knife against my hip, and I try not to flinch at the feel of cold steel against my skin as he slowly moves it under the thin lace edge of my thong.
“I said no knives.” My voice is breathless.
For a fraction of a second, I remember the men and the feel of the knife pressed against my throat outside Kenzie’s apartment, but this time the desperation I’m feeling has nothing to do with escaping. As if reading my mind, he whispers, “I’m going to give you a better memory.”
A pull of the blade and my panties are hanging half on and half off, the wetness from my arousal making the thin fabric cling to my sex. He slowly slides the knife across the damp lace, pausing to press the tip lightly against my clit, making it throb. With another tug, the scrap of fabric falls to the floor, leaving me naked.
“Mine to pleasure…” His warm hand caresses my breast, his calloused thumb brushing over the hard nipple. Pulling me to him roughly, his hand travels across my rib cage and down my back to squeeze my ass. “And punish.”
Punish? I gulp, thinking of my list in tatters on the floor. What have I gotten myself into?
His voice is raspy near my ear. “And just for future reference, tell me not to do something and I’ll do it twice and take pictures.”
“Pictures?!”
He laughs at the panic in my voice. “Not tonight and never without your permission. But seeing you like this makes me want to. If you could see how beautiful you look—bound and at my mercy, your breasts pushed forward, aching for my touch…” His voice trails off, but the way he’s looking at me has electricity racing erratically through my veins. He’s right. I want nothing more than to feel his hands caressing my skin, his hands cupping my breasts, the rough pad of his thumbs brushing over my erect nipples, his finger pressed against my needy clit.
My breasts feel tight and heavy as I wait—okay, I admit it, eagerly—for his touch, my breasts literally aching for the feel of his hands cupping their heavy weight, flicking the nipples with his calloused hands. But he doesn’t do anything. Time slows, and I can feel each pinprick tingle as my nipples pucker in the cold air. There is nothing to focus on but my breath and his. My vulnerability and his power. My submission and his control.
Just when I think I’m going to die of anticipation, he leans forward and kisses me, his lips stamping mine with the seal of his dominance, and my fate is settled. I’m his. I kiss him back, hungry for the way his tongue plunges ruthlessly into my open and willing mouth. After a moment, he steps back and gazes at me appraisingly, as if gauging his next move. Then, slowly and methodically, he rolls up his shirt sleeves, and I’m a goner. A man with rolled-up sleeves has always been a turn on. Maybe it’s how strong their forearms look, or the fact that it signifies they’re about to get down to business. My stomach drops as I remember our earlier conversation. Tonight, Liam’s business is taming me. Or trying to.
His knife clatters to the table as he fists his hand in my hair and turns me around, bending me forward at the waist so that my entire upper torso is pressed against the surface of the small kitchen table. The laminate is cold and smooth against my bare chest, and my nipples tighten even more. His hand, firm and unyielding, grips the back of my neck, holding me immobile. I squirm a little, just to see if I can move. I can’t.
“I’ll make a good girl out of you yet.”
“I doubt that,” I say, my voice strangled.
The smack of his hand on my bottom catches me off guard and I jolt, slamming my legs back toge
ther.
“Hmm. Is that a challenge?” His voice is low with an edge of threat to it, but it doesn’t faze me at all. I know that tone. It means fasten your seatbelt, but I’m ready for the ride.
I actually hadn’t meant it as a challenge—I’m honestly pretty doubtful I can really let go and give him what he wants—but since he brought it up, I decide to have a little fun with it. A little fun with him. He deserves it after making us all think he was dead. And he’s fun to tease. “You only asked for my body,” I say impishly. “It remains to be seen whether you can actually tame me or not.”
“Is that right?” I can hear the smile in his voice. “That’s like waving a red flag in front of a bull, sweetheart,” he says. “Open your legs for me.”
When I don’t comply, he kicks them apart roughly, and my pelvis tightens with arousal, knowing I’m at his mercy, spread before him. It might be humiliating if he wasn’t humming his approval and stroking my skin with a combination of possessiveness coupled with an almost tender reverence that has me sighing with pleasure.
He holds them apart with his own feet placed inside of mine, lifts my hair, and presses a kiss against the nape of my neck, sending a shudder of pleasure through me. He trails his finger down my spine, over the dip at the small of my back which is slightly arched from being bent over a table, and ever-so-gently parts the cheeks of my butt. Mortified, I try to squirm away, but his grip is unyielding.
“I’m not comfortable with that,” I say firmly with as much authority as I can summon given Liam is physically holding me facedown naked on a table. And, until he got too close to the restricted zone, I’ve been enjoying it.
“You’re not supposed to be comfortable. Comfortable never changed anything or made you stronger or braver or gave you that on-top-of-the-world feeling. I’m going to push you, sweetheart, until you let go of that control you hold on to so tightly. Just like out in the ocean today. Whenever you try to plant your feet in the sand, I’m going to knock them out from under you so you experience the freedom and joy of riding the waves.”
I let out a sigh of relief as he moves away from my ass. Regardless of his words, I know he won’t push me to do anything I don’t want to do. He respects me, and I trust him. But then he doesn’t touch me at all, and I find myself thinking maybe that would be better than this anticipation…the not knowing what he’s going to do next. There is no sound but the cry of a monkey from the jungle beyond. I focus on my breathing, trying to stay calm, but I can feel the trickle of moisture drip from my sex. I realize what he’s doing is intentional. He’s going slow like I said I wanted him to, but not to make me comfortable. He’s been perfectly clear he wants me uncomfortable and off balance. No. He’s doing it to make me nervous. To make me anticipate. To turn me on. To make me focus of every minute and savor each one fully.
It’s working.
He spanks me again, harder this time, but the initial sting quickly morphs into a pleasurable warmth. Holding me still, his fingers part my lips and he slides a finger into my wet heat. I moan as I clench around it, wishing it was his thick cock instead.
“Untamable, huh?” he murmurs, his breath hot in my ear. “One smack of my hand on your ass and you’re already wet. You get off on being dominated.”
Oh God. He’s totally right. “I do not!”
“No?” Smack. He spanks me again.
“No.”
Smack. “Go on. Admit I’m right. You like giving up control.”
“I think you missed a spot. To the right and on the bottom.”
He laughs and tweaks my nipple, moving back and forth until I’m squirming.
“Be still, woman.” Smack. “I can do this all night.”
I wriggle my ass sassily. “So can I.”
As if intent on calling my bluff, he hits the same spot one…two…three times. Sharp, rapid-fire, stinging blows on one cheek, and then the other, over and over again. I try to squirm away, but he holds me still. “Still not ready to admit it?” he asks. I shake my head. But this time when he reaches between my legs, I can feel my juices coating his fingers before he slides them into me.
“I kind of like this,” he says. “Every time you disagree with me and try to take over, I’ll just spank you.”
He skims his hand over the curve of my ass, squeezing each cheek in turn. “I have some catching up to do. There was the time you tried to micromanage my rescue.” Whack. “Every time you mentioned I needed a plan.” Three more smacks, and I’m grinding my pelvis against the hard edge of the table, impossibly turned on.
“The way I saved your ass with the toast tonight,” I remind him.
“Mmmm. That’s true.” He pierces my folds again with two fingers this time. “You deserve a reward for that one.” He pushes deeper. “Oh baby. Your pussy’s so wet.”
I moan softly as he gently rubs my G-spot. He finger-fucks me slowly, building the tension in me with each delicious stroke until my thighs are quivering. Just when I’m about to hurtle over the edge, he stops, and with his fingers still buried in my center, he spanks me again. The shock, coupled with the slight sting of pain, is enough to stop me from coming, but I’m right at the brink. One more stroke and I’ll explode.
“Don’t come unless I say you can,” he says, his voice soft but laced with an edge of steel that is making me hotter.
“I…what?”
“You don’t control anything tonight. Including your orgasms. You’ll come when I want you to, not because you want to. And right now, I don’t want you to. But since this doesn’t turn you on, that won’t be a problem.”
“Bastard,” I hiss.
He just laughs. And then proceeds to spank the hell out of me with the precision I’d expect of a military man, each blow perfectly placed, raining down on my ass until it’s hot and I’m writhing on the table, kept in place only by the weight of his hand on my back. “That’s it, baby. Move that ass for me.” A few more well-placed slaps and I can’t take it anymore. My ass is stinging in the best possible way, and I want to come so badly I can taste it. In the course of spanking me, he’d loosened his grip on me and I instinctively turn around, ready to tell him I’ve had enough.
I’m out of breath, panting with need and arousal. His expression is one of focus, intensity, and unvarnished lust. Our eyes meet.
“Oh fuck, baby. That look on your face says it all.” He pulls me to him roughly, kissing me like he’s trying to save my life. Or his.
In a moment of clarity, I realize I had it all wrong. I thought the key to “getting Liam” was being someone else, by not being uptight, by letting loose and having a devil-may-care attitude. But what Liam wants, what he gets off on, is being the one who makes me that way. He likes it when I give up control because of him. I’m more than happy to oblige him.
He’s smiling at me, and I smile back. “I admit it. It turns me on when you take control.”
Wordlessly, he pushes me back down against the table and holds me there, his hand heavy on the small of my back.
Whack. One last spank, and then his hands are on me, gently assessing his work, his fingernails lightly scraping over my heated skin, making me shudder with pleasure as I almost come again. As if reading my mind, he pierces me again with his fingers, but this time, he doesn’t spank me anymore. He just strokes me—faster, harder, deeper—until I think I’m going to die from the sheer intense pleasure of it all.
“Liam. I. Please. Fuck.” I push my ass out, trying to push him deeper into me.
He laughs and strokes harder. “That’s it, baby. Come for me sweetheart.”
That’s all it takes. With a keening cry, I convulse around his fingertips.
Chapter Twelve
Liam
If the drug cartel bursts through the door right now and kills me, I’ll die a happy man. Fuck. This woman. This beautiful, passionate, smart-mouthed, stubborn, wicked woman… She does things to me no one has ever done to me before…makes me feel things I’ve never felt before. Watching her ass slowly turn fr
om white to pink to a gorgeous red as she wiggled provocatively, egging me on in that impish way of hers. Feeling her come on my hand, hearing her little mews of pleasure, watching her thighs quiver with the impending release.
Memories of her coming on my hand will be enough to carry me through whatever lies ahead for me in the next few months. And her ass! My God, spanking her ass—and how she’d got off on it, just like I’d known she would—had almost made me come all over her sweet, reddened little bottom. But I want more.
Tonight, I want her full submission. I want to strip her bare of her illusions of control and peel back every layer to unearth the wild woman at her core—the one that craves to let it all go. And I want to give her passion beyond her wildest dreams. I want to be the one she never forgets, no matter what happens after this.
She’s amazing. I’ve never met a woman so brave. She was obviously uncomfortable, and maybe even a little scared to do as I asked, but despite all her list making and protests, she gave me her trust unequivocally, and it was the biggest fucking aphrodisiac I’ve ever experienced. Of course she hadn’t give up control easily. I would have been disappointed if she did. I grin at the little “oh!” she utters as I give her ass a pinch. The night—and her submission to me—is just beginning.
I don’t stop stroking her sweet pussy. She’s still spread open to me, my feet between hers keeping her stance wide enough for unrestrained access, and her thighs are still quivering from the orgasm that just ripped through her body. But I’m just getting started. I intend to make her come until she’s limp and begging for mercy.
I feel her G-spot grow larger and firmer as I stroke it with my fingers while my palm slides up and down over her clit. She wiggles violently. “I… What… Oh my God… I can’t…” There’s real fear in her voice, and I realize that for a girl like Charlotte, giving in to the loss of control that comes with a G-spot orgasm is probably hard. Luckily for her, I think with a smile at the sight of her hands bound at the small of her back, she doesn’t have a choice.
“Shh. Relax. Let go. Come for me, baby.” I continue driving into her, the force of my fingers in her pussy actually pushing the table an inch across the red-tiled floor until I sense her losing the control she’s been fighting to hold on to. Which is exactly what I want. Her words have become intelligible, just cries of desire. When I can tell she’s close, I tilt my hand slightly away from her clit and press, waiting for her to come undone in the most primitive and uninhibited way a woman can. With a scream that rivals the sounds from the nearby jungle, she squirts, fluid arcing from between her splayed legs to splash on the floor.
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