by Measha Stone
“If I tell you, you might run away.” He shut the door to the dishwasher and leaned against it. He crossed his right foot lazily over his left and folded his arms over his chest. Attraction and irritation mingled together, unsettling her. There shouldn’t be any attraction. Friends weren’t attracted to each other. Even with his outward laid-back appearance, the air thickened between them.
“I’m not afraid of you,” she told him, trying to find a casual stance to mirror his own.
“I’m nothing to be afraid of. I’d never hurt you,” he assured her in a soft voice. His eyes met hers, and, for a moment, she believed him.
She sighed and looked away. “So?” she prompted when he didn’t continue. “I promise, I’m a big girl. I won’t run away from the big scary advertising executive.”
He studied her for a moment, assessing her. “One was the little lie you told me about wanting fresh air. You didn’t want me to come up to your apartment. Not because it’s not clean—I’m sure I could eat off the floor—but because you think if I go up to your apartment, this becomes more than a friendly dinner.” He sounded too comfortable in his confidence.
“And two?” she demanded.
“Two was the little lie about you not knowing why you changed career paths. How could you not know? I’m not stupid, Jessica.” He uncrossed his arms and placed his hands on the countertop at his sides.
“Fair enough. So, you’re keeping count of little white lies?” She stepped toward him. Two could play intimidation games. Although, she wasn’t convinced his was intentional.
“I prefer the word strikes,” he clarified, and she looked at him with confusion.
“Strikes, as in three strikes I’m out?” It was her turn to cross her arms over her chest. She wasn’t sure whether she should laugh or be infuriated. So many times, she had found men to be lacking honesty, and this man was giving her a strike for every tiny insignificant white lie she spoke. If it hadn’t been so absurd, it would have been hilarious.
“No, not out.” He shook his head, not taking his gaze off her.
“Then what?” She rolled her eyes. The butterflies starting to flutter in her stomach should have warned her whatever he was about to say would unsettle her. It was his eyes, the way they bored into her as he decided whether he would answer her.
He cleared his throat. “At strike three, I would want to punish you,” he stated with ease, as though he had just told her the color of her shirt.
“Punish me? That’s ridiculous.” She shook her head. “Maybe I should just go.”
“I told you you’d run away,” he called after her.
She paused in the doorway and turned back to him. “I’m not running away. I’m leaving a very weird dinner,” she stated, forcing a bland tone. The war of arousal and confusion inside her was anything but bland.
“I said I would want to punish you. I didn’t say I would punish you. You haven’t given me permission to do so yet.”
They stared at each other in the hallway. Royce remained casual and patient. Jessica had a whirlwind of emotions tunneling through her mind.
Her cell phone rang, ending the standoff. She dug it out of her pocket. Great. Kelly. Declining the call, she put it away.
“I thought I’d met every type of guy,” she mumbled.
He stepped closer, blocking her from getting to the closet where her coat hung. “Do you remember the couple we saw last night?” His voice softened, as though he were speaking to a stubborn child who wouldn’t listen to reason.
“The girl who got into the taxi? Yes.” The couple had remained on her mind since seeing them. She’d thought about how intimate the two had appeared during their exchange. The man hadn’t just deposited her in a cab and sent her on her way. He’d paid the cab driver, given him her destination, then gave her the most heartwarming kiss she’d witnessed in a very long time.
“That girl would have most likely been punished at the very first lie. I say that because they seemed to have a very strong protocol between them.” He sounded as though it should make sense to her, but it only confused her more.
“He would hurt her?”
He shook his head. “Not hurt. Punish. There’s a difference.”
“Punish how?” Her parents had rarely punished her, yet here she stood in front of Royce asking how he would handle her punishment. It would be easier to shove the idea away if her body wasn’t already reacting to his words. Her heart beat a little faster. Excitement brewed. The idea didn’t turn her body cold, even if her mind continued to demand it to stand down.
“Well, that’s different for everyone. Some spank. Some take away privileges.”
“Spank? As in hit?” Why was she still discussing this with him? She should have flung the door open and ran. He could keep her damn coat.
“No. As in spank,” he clarified with a bit of force. His hands dropped to his sides, and his shoulders eased. “Why don’t we sit in the living room?” He held his hand out to her. “I’d like the chance to explain this to you, before you make your decision to run off.”
Out of curiosity, she’d listen to what he had to say. Ignoring his outstretched hand, she headed toward the other room. She took the large armchair facing the windows, and he sat on the couch opposite her.
“What about you?” She tried to put more force into her voice. She couldn’t let him think she was considering what he was talking about. Though, she wished she could make sense of why she had agreed to sit in his living room after he’d made such an outrageous statement.
“It would depend on the offense.” He leaned back on the couch.
“I don’t understand. I mean, I think I do. I’m not completely ignorant, it’s just…I’ve never met anyone who does that.”
“Well, now you have,” he said with a lopsided smile.
“And what is your preferred method?” She tilted her head, as though his next answer held more weight than most of what he’d said up to that point.
“Well, in this instance, lying, I’d probably give you a spanking. Nothing too serious, but enough to make you understand honesty is extremely important to our relationship.”
She rubbed her palms over her knees in quiet reflection. “Honesty.” She spoke softly. “I didn’t lie about something huge. I lied about why I waited outside. There’s no meaning there.” Finding her courage again, she firmed her voice.
“True, but a lie is a lie. With me, there is no hiding truth. Everything is done for a reason. You not wanting me to go to your apartment would be understandable, but lying about it made it more than it was. It makes it look like you’re ashamed of your feelings.” His voice held steady, giving her the impression he not only meant what he said, but also felt strongly on the subject.
“It doesn’t matter.” She shook her head, as if to wave off the topic. Nothing made her more uncomfortable than the subject he seemed determined to discuss.
“Your feelings do matter,” he pointed out.
“Do you think that woman punishes him when he deserves it?” She turned the spotlight away from herself.
“Probably not.” He raised his eyebrows. “It looked like the control went one way there. Same with me. I hold the reins.” The firmness in his eyes shot a tingle up her spine. Everything he said should have made her inner feminist scratch his eyes out, not turn her insides into molten arousal.
“Well then, we’d have a problem…if this wasn’t just a friendly dinner.” Her sarcasm returned. “I don’t like being controlled. I like to be in control.”
He seemed unconvinced. Hell, she wasn’t entirely sure of it either.
Seeming to come to a decision, he clapped his hands. “Let’s try something. Stand up.”
“Why?”
“You’re so sure of yourself, and you aren’t the least bit interested in what I’m trying to explain to you. Prove it. If not to me, to yourself. Let me lead, and you’ll see if it lights a fire in you or not.”
She regarded him for a moment, then stood up. He couldn
’t be further from the truth. There would be no fire, not even a hint of spark. He also got to his feet and stepped toward her until the toes of his shoes touched the tips of hers.
“You obeyed at dinner when I asked you to pour the wine, told you where to sit, and to bring your dish into the kitchen. You did all of these things, and it didn’t diminish you one bit.” His voice wrapped around her like silk as he stroked her cheek with his fingertip.
She told herself to move, but she disobeyed. “I didn’t know I was obeying commands,” she whispered. But hadn’t she been doing just that? It hadn’t occurred to her it was even happening, but he had taken control of their evening. And it had felt…natural.
He pulled her chin up with his finger to look into her eyes. “I wasn’t being an ass and barking out orders. I don’t do that,” he answered, running his finger over her dry lips, the scent of lemon lingering on his fingertips.
“I’m no good at being obedient,” she warned him.
“You’re better at it than you think,” he breathed. “Without even thinking about it, I had control over the evening. At any time did you feel like I was dragging you around on a leash?”
She didn’t miss the flash of excitement in his eyes or the new wave of desire flooding her body at the mental picture of him snapping a leather leash to her neck and leading her about. “No, but I didn’t realize what you were doing.”
“They were little things, small actions. Nothing of great importance, but still important to our evening.” Had it all been a test—to see if she would listen to his directions without arguing?
“You’re a bit arrogant.”
“Maybe. I know what I want, how I want, and I’m not going to accept less.” His hand slid under her hair, holding her neck while his thumb caressed her jawline. Little sparks of electricity jumped over her skin.
“I just as easily could have sat where I wanted. There were other chairs in there,” she pointed out, and he gave a little laugh.
“Exactly my point.”
“Bringing my dish to the kitchen was just me being polite. So was pouring the wine.” She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. He moved closer, his breath hot on her cheeks.
“True enough. But when I told you to do it, did your alarm bells ring? Did you feel angry or put out by me telling you what to do, even such small things?”
She hadn’t. Not in the least. Only a week ago, she’d snapped at Alex for telling her to move over on the couch so he could have his normal spot. But when Royce had given the small directions, she hadn’t thought twice about it.
“There’s still a problem. You’re a guy, and I don’t trust guys,” she pointed out, and he smiled down at her.
“Well, we can work on that.” He brought his lips down on hers. As powerful as the kiss became, she expected to wilt beneath him. But he didn’t crush her the way she’d thought he would. The way she assumed his confidence would make her react. His lips pressed softly against hers. The kiss may have appeared gentle to an outsider, but everything inside her reacted as though he wrapped her up in him. She leaned into his touch as his fingers stroked her neck.
Remnants of the pinot tinted his tongue as he pushed past her lips, probing and exploring. The demand was there, the insistence of his control, and she didn’t fight it. Instead, she followed his lead…and damn it if she didn’t soften beneath him.
A muffled moan fluttered between them as she wound her arms around his waist. Was it from her, or him?
He pulled away, and she opened her eyes, her lips still parted and a bit swollen.
“Take off your shoes.” He stepped back so she could follow his instruction.
Her heart picked up speed as she obeyed him with little resistance, unsure if the increase of her arousal was from the lingering sensations of his kiss or the dominance that dripped from his voice as he gave his commands. No longer caring which, she kicked out of her shoes.
“Now, remove your sweater.” He sat on the arm of the couch, folding his hands on his knee. She wanted his hands on her again, to feel their warmth on her face.
How far would she let him take her on this little exploration? Backing down now would only prove he’d gotten to her, that he’d made her feel something. She was no prude; she’d been naked with a man before. Although, she couldn’t recall any of them looking at her with such veracity.
She fumbled with the little buttons of the black, cotton sweater. She stood before him in black jeans and a white tank top.
“No bra?” His gaze settled on her breasts, brows raised.
“No,” she answered. An alarm sounded in her brain, but the tingling in her senses won out. His authoritative tone lit a flame in her belly she couldn’t explain—and had no intention of trying to. Everything became so electric, so alive, inside her. What would happen when he actually touched her?
Determined to ward off the sensations his words and looks drew from her, she rolled her shoulders back and stood taller.
“Good. Remove your shirt.” He crossed his arms over his chest, as though to show her he had no intention of reaching for her. He would be patient. But could she? “Now, Jessica.” The firmness of his voice echoed in the room, taking away her hesitation. “Unless this is making you uncomfortable. Not sure how being told what to do makes you feel? I can tell you how you look. Your eyes are lit up with curiosity. You aren’t really sure if you want to continue because you aren’t really sure the warm feeling in your gut is safe.”
Damn him and his mind-reading powers! She played with the hem of her shirt, watching him. She couldn’t seem to stop herself, and his attention brought more heat to her soul than the touch of any of her past lovers. Her tank top slipped up past her breasts and over her head. She held the top in front of her, attempting to hide from him.
He shook his head, and she dropped it to the floor. Of course, he wouldn’t allow her to shield her body from him.
“Hands at your sides, please.”
He might as well have been drinking her in through a straw, his attention was so forceful. His eyes landed on her breasts, and she waited for the disappointment. No one ever dated her for her boobs. Her breasts would barely fill his large palms. The chill in the room brought her nipples erect, and she wanted to cover herself from his judgment.
He dragged his eyes up to meet hers. “Your pants,” he pressed on.
“If I say no?” she asked, worried. Only twenty minutes ago, she’d bolted for the front door, and now she stood before him half naked, considering being fully nude.
“Then we stop. But I don’t think you want to stop.” The dimple peeked out at her.
Not sure which of them she was trying to prove something to, she unbuttoned her jeans and slid them over her rounded hips. She dropped them to her ankles and kicked them aside. Before he commanded it, she hooked her thumbs into her thong and pulled it down as well.
“Ah, that’s a good girl,” he whispered. Sensuality fluttered around the sound of his pleasure. Why would his pleasure give her such a thrill? “But, from now on, wait for my instruction. Maybe I wanted to slide those pretty panties down your sexy legs myself.”
She fought the urge to cover herself and kept her head down, not trusting herself to peek at his face. He would see how much the moment affected her. If only he would touch her, even a fingertip to her skin would satisfy her craving for him.
The couch gave way as he stood. As though he’d heard her thoughts, his hands landed on her shoulders. His warm caress slid down her arms and up again, erasing the goosebumps brought by the chill in the air. He was an entire head taller than her. He seemed huge in this capacity yet held no fear. She felt…safe.
“You don’t like your breasts.”
She wasn’t sure how to take his mind-reading skills but let it go as he cupped her breasts. She sucked in a breath as he kneaded them and ran his thumb over her nipples.
“I think they’re beautiful.” He stepped back to lean down and took her right nipple into his mouth.
&nbs
p; The wetness of his tongue, the warmth of his mouth, and the light scraping of his teeth quickened her pulse. She opened her mouth to say something…to protest? But she snapped it shut when he applied pressure on the opposite breast with his fingers. He pulled away and looked up at her.
“Pleasure and pain,” he explained. “The pleasure is greater after the pain.”
She nodded, unable to find her tongue. The slight burn in her nipple spread through her when he released it. It took more strength than she would have thought to remain standing in front of him, waiting for his next touch, next sensation.
He slid down to his knees before her and tapped her legs until she spread them apart for him. “Shaved.” He smiled up at her.
She was sure she would explode if he stroked her. More so if he didn’t.
He dipped his middle finger between her thighs then brought it to his lips. Her breath quickened, coming out in short bursts. Every nerve ending in her body stood on high alert, awaiting his next touch.
“You are extremely wet.” He placed the finger in his mouth. Standing up quickly, Royce grabbed her hand and led her out of the living room.
She followed him down a short hall, not having time or desire to take in her surroundings until they were in his bedroom. He stopped in the middle of the room and pulled her to him.
The moments ticked by in silence as they stared at each other. She wondered what he felt like under his shirt. Would he be as hard as his clothing suggested? Her fingers twitched at her sides.
“Take off my shirt,” he ordered. The corner of his mouth twitched, like he enjoyed coaching her this way.
She licked her bottom lip then worked his shirt over his chest and head, feeling the hardened muscles of his stomach. He was beautiful, more than she’d already pictured in her mind. Hard abs led up to a sculpted chest and broad shoulders. A man with his strength could crush her. Lesser men already had.
“Now my pants.” His eyes sparkled.
Three words—three simple words—brought a quiver to her fingers. It was more than arousal driving her actions; it was a need demanding to be met. His, as well as hers. The very idea of considering his needs tied to her own made her apprehensive. She’d decided long ago to look out for herself alone. Mingling her desires with another’s was risky.
