Bound to be Dirty (21 page)

He held her hips in his steady grip as orgasms wracked both their bodies. After the final tremors died, he slipped out of her and eased her lower body down to the bed.

She stretched, wrung out with satisfaction. “Wow. And I only asked for one.”

He settled beside her, pulling the covers up to cocoon them. “I'm an overachiever.”

In the darkness, she turned toward him and kissed him. “Thank you for today, Dax.” For the great sex, yes, but more than that. For not giving up on them. For being spontaneous and romantic, for revealing sides of himself he'd kept private before, even for sharing his concerns about her parents and her practice. For trying. With her kiss, she tried to tell him all of that.

Tomorrow was New Year's Eve. Tonight, she had hope that the coming year would bring her and Dax closer together, that they'd have a real marriage and she'd throw those birth control pills away.

Twenty-two

A
s Lily walked downstairs on New Year's Eve, stepping carefully in the four-inch heels, Dax said, “You look stunning.”

“So do you.” He wasn't much for formal clothes, but he looked classy and masculine in slim-fitting black pants and a black shirt.

He touched her cheek. “Got some sun today.”

“On top of the world.” After a lazy morning of sleeping in, sex, breakfast in front of the fire, and more sex, he'd taken her flying again. He had pointed out the various Olympic venues, telling her how Whistler had changed before and after the 2010 Games. But it wasn't the man-made structures that impressed her the most, it was the grand scale of the wilderness scenery: dense rain forest blanketed in snow, winding rivers and frozen lakes, and spectacular white-capped mountains. He had landed on Serratus Glacier and they'd hiked a ways in the snow, with a thermos of hot chocolate to supplement the winter sun's warmth. “Your world,” she commented now.

“How d'you mean?”

“That's the world you love, isn't it? Nature as raw as you can get it. It's amazing and awe inspiring.” And so was Dax. Seeing him in his element, she was powerfully drawn to him, yet it also emphasized how different they were. So did the stories they'd shared today about their work—careers they each loved that took them in opposite directions. This was all so confusing. She'd come to suspect that she'd never stopped loving her husband, only erected defenses to protect her heart. But given how different she and Dax were, maybe she needed to hang on to those defenses.

“Yeah, I do love it. I feel at home there.” He studied her. “Could you ever imagine feeling that way?”

She shook her head, knowing she was disappointing him. “I admire it, but it's intimidating. It scares me. You have the skills to survive in the wilderness, but I've always been a city person.”

“Sure, nature can be scary, but it's . . . I don't know how to explain it.”

“Try, Dax.”

“Often, when nature hurts people, it's their own fault. Like that Sams family, going out unprepared. Or like forest fires that start because someone's careless with a match or cigarette.”

“But some fires do start because of lightning.”

“Sure, and avalanches happen, and gale force winds blow up. But that's nature being nature. It's not personal; you can't get mad about it.”

No, but you could get dead. All the same, she was starting to get it. “Unlike people. You want people to be decent, and when they're not it's maddening and hurtful.”

“And harder to deal with. With nature, the challenge is . . . clean. With people it can be so complicated.”

Understanding sank in, thanks to last night's conversation. “Like with your parents,” she said softly, “who you couldn't trust to be there for you. And your grandparents kicking you out.”

He nodded. “And like your parents.”

“Yes, they're complicated. At least they can be trusted; they're predictable, even if we don't always like what they do and say.” Talking about their parents, recognizing the distance between her world and Dax's . . . no, this wasn't how she wanted to feel as they headed off for New Year's dinner.
Change the subject; change the mood.
“On the subject of predictable, I bet you think I'm wearing panty hose.” She flirted the silky full skirt around her knees, showing off her legs.

“Seem to recall you saying that women don't go bare-legged in the middle of winter.”

Teasingly, she raised one side of the skirt to reveal a stocking top attached to a garter.

“Wow, a garter belt? You've never worn a garter belt before.”

“Not so predictable, am I?”

“Hot. That's what you are.” He was bending to kiss her when the doorbell rang. “There's our taxi.”

Lily followed him into the mudroom where she put on her boots and coat and stowed her fancy shoes in the clothing store's pretty bag. Around her neck, she wrapped a new silk scarf they'd bought in Whistler, its blue and silver pattern more feminine than her normal scarves. Thank heavens they were taking a cab. In winter, Whistler was made for heavy layers, not evening wear.

Still, as she tucked her gloved hand through Dax's arm on the walk from the door to the waiting taxi, she enjoyed the snowy air, crisp against her cheeks, pure and fresh as she drew it deep into her lungs.

Dax opened the back door, but when she made to slide inside, he stopped her. Close to her ear, he murmured, “Tonight, I am Falcon, your master, and you will obey me.”

Shocked, she gaped at him. Tonight? At a restaurant? He couldn't intend . . . What, exactly, did he intend? Excitement quivered through her, mixed with a hefty dose of anxiety. Behaving properly in public had been drummed into her from an early age. Dax knew that.

She could say no. But she loved his bad-boy side. Besides, if she got too uncomfortable, she could always say her safe word. “Yes, Falcon,” she murmured demurely, and swung into the taxi.

Dax went around to sit on her right. He gave the driver their destination then settled back. Putting an arm around Lily, he drew her closer in the darkness of the backseat and whispered, “Unbutton your coat and let it fall open.”

A shiver rippled through her as she obeyed. Another followed when he loosened her scarf, flicked the dangling hummingbird earring, and caressed her earlobe.

When they drove under a streetlight, or an oncoming car's headlights flashed, the play of light and shadow made the bold lines of his face even more striking. His fingers stroked her neck, ear, throat, collarbone, the lazy sensuality igniting a fire inside her.

“Cross your right leg over your left. Let your skirt ride up above your knees.” When she obeyed, he gripped her stockinged knee, his big hand spread out to curl around it, holding her firmly. “I don't own you, but I command you. You trust me to look after you, and your pleasure.”

His grip on her knee and the seductive caresses at her throat made her totally aware of him and yes, she did feel like she was in his power. It was a strange sensation, but not a bad one. “I do.”

“You will look after my pleasure and give me everything I ask for.”

Everything?
What might that entail, in a public venue? “I will,” she said doubtfully.

His hand slid a few inches higher on her leg, nudging the hem of her skirt to mid-thigh. “What are you wearing under your dress, Lily? A garter belt and stockings and . . . ?”

“A thong and a bra.”

“Ah.” His thumb found the top band of her stocking, toyed with the garter but didn't unfasten it. Then he stroked the bare skin of her inner thigh above her stocking, inches away from her sex. The steady, provocative stroke was titillating and she quivered with the desire to feel that touch against the crotch of her thong, which was rapidly growing damp.

The taxi drove through Whistler Village, all sparkly and magical, and pulled up outside the restaurant. Dax released Lily and reached for his wallet. The loss of his touch, combined with having no idea what he intended, made her feel vulnerable. She rebuttoned her coat and, when he opened the door, slid out and took his arm. A few people strolled the streets, and laughter and music mingled in the air.

Inside the entrance of the restaurant, Dax helped her out of her coat and handed it to the host along with his own, then steadied her while she took off her boots and put on her fancy shoes.

Lily glanced into the restaurant, so elegant and romantic with ivory-draped tables and diners in dressy clothes. Candlelight sparkled off silverware, wineglasses, and diamond jewelry. The Christmas tree hadn't been taken down yet. Decorated in white and gold, it stood tall and twinkling in a corner.

“We're setting up your table,” the host told them. “It'll only be a moment.”

Dax thanked him then whispered to Lily, “Go to the ladies' room and remove your thong.”

She sucked in a breath. She'd toyed with the idea of going without panties, but hadn't had the nerve. Now he'd ordered her to. She dipped her head in acknowledgment and walked down the hall on trembling legs.

The restroom was elegant too, with creamy white marble, burning candles, and a pine wreath scenting the air. The three stalls were private little rooms with wooden walls that stretched from floor to ceiling. Lily went into one and reached under her skirt. She peeled the thong down her legs and stepped out of it, crumpled it into a ball, and stuffed it in her purse.

In the stall beside her, a toilet flushed and the door opened. When Lily stepped out of her stall, a plump, attractive brunette in black chiffon pants, a spangly silver top, and silver sandals was washing her hands. Their gazes met in the mirror. “Happy New Year,” the woman said.

“Same to you.”

When the woman left, Lily stared at her own reflection. She'd never gone without underwear; in fact, she rarely wore thongs, finding them too skimpy. It was amazing how naked she felt, though no one in the restaurant could possibly tell that she was panty-less. It was her and Dax's sexy little secret.

She sauntered out of the restroom, very aware of her body. High heels, garter belt and stockings, the swish of silk against her skin, the shock of air against her pussy. Feeling sexy and nervous, she wondered what Dax would make her do next.

Twenty-three

D
ax watched Lily walk toward him, her hips swinging. God, she was lovely. Was her pussy bare under that pretty dress?

Tonight, he had no plan; he was winging it. He'd asked her to trust him to meet her needs and fulfill her desires. That meant he had to figure out what those needs and desires were. He could ask, but he was sure that she, like Cassandra, had secret desires she hadn't even admitted to herself. It was those desires, the ones that pushed the bounds and delved past her inhibitions, that he wanted to fulfill.

Besides, bad boys didn't consult; they took charge. “Give it to me,” he said to her.

Her eyes flared. “Now? Here?”

He raised his brows.

She fumbled inside her purse and her hand emerged, fisted. Glancing around nervously, she transferred a still-warm scrap of fabric to his hand.

Yeah, her pussy was bare. Heat surged to his groin, thickened his cock. He thrust the thong in his pants pocket and left his hand there, fisting it and stretching the lightweight black wool to conceal his growing erection. “Our table's ready.” He tucked his other hand behind her elbow and steered her toward the maître d'.

When he'd made the reservation, Dax had checked the restaurant's layout. The large room was divided by tall pillars inset with gas fireplaces, giving the illusion of several smaller rooms. Most of the tables were the regular kind, but those along the outside of the room were semi-secluded booths. He had reserved a small booth in a relatively private corner.

Now, as he and Lily followed the tuxedoed maître d' across the packed restaurant, he confirmed that the crisp cream-colored tablecloths fell almost to the floor. Perfect cover for some fooling around.

Lily slid onto the leather seat and Dax sat to her right. Two white candles in gold-and-glass holders burned on the table and the centerpiece had white orchids, sprigs of holly, and small branches of pine.

“Your waiter will be with you to take your drink order,” the maître d' said. “Have a lovely evening.”

“Thank you,” Dax replied. “We will.”

Earlier, they'd had rum toddies along with cheese, olives, and crackers. A snack to tide them over, but not ruin dinner. Now, when their thin, fair-haired waiter arrived, Dax ordered a martini with a twist for Lily and a Black Tusk ale for himself.

“Dinner is a three course table d'hôte,” the waiter said. “You have three options.” He handed them both menus, then departed.

Dax and Lily both studied the menus. She said, “I think I'll have—”

“Stop.” He needed to remind her of the game. “I didn't give you permission to speak. And I'll decide what you eat and drink.”

A spark of challenge lit her eyes. “Yes, Falcon.”

He figured he could meet that challenge just fine. One of the menus featured a variety of seafood; another had rack of lamb as the main course. The third included roast duck breast with cranberry-orange confit. Lily loved duck, and that menu also had one of her favorite desserts, chocolate soufflé.

When their drinks arrived, Dax told the waiter, “The lady will have the duck menu.” He noted Lily's slight nod of approval as he went on. “I'll have the rack of lamb. Could you suggest a red wine that would suit both meals?”

From the waiter's recommendations, Dax chose an eighty dollar pinot noir. “Please open that now so it can breathe.” Yeah, he'd picked up a trick or two from those fancy meals with her parents, such as knowing that good red wine benefitted from aeration.

After the waiter had gone, Dax turned to Lily and raised his beer glass. “Happy New Year.”

She opened her mouth then paused. “May I speak?”

It would be a dull dinner if they ate it in silence. “You can talk as you normally would. But when I tell you to do something, you will obey without question. Understood?”

“Yes, Falcon.” She lifted her martini glass. “Happy New Year. The restaurant is lovely. And thank you for choosing the duck for me.”

“You always hate it when the man orders dinner for the woman.” Neither her father nor Anthony ever did.

She nodded. “It's presumptuous. Like she doesn't have a mind of her own.”

“Or like he knows her so well he doesn't have to ask.”

“Hmm. I suppose it's sometimes a sign of intimacy.” She glanced up as their waiter arrived with their first course and the opened bottle of red wine. “Thank you. This looks delicious.”

They both had soup, cream of leek with herbs for him, wild mushroom for her. After they each tasted their own, he said in his dom voice, “Feed me some of yours.”

Lily'd always said that eating off another person's fork or spoon in public looked tacky. Now she frowned slightly, but obediently scooped up a spoonful. Holding one hand under the spoon to catch drips, she held it toward him.

He leaned forward, took the spoon between his lips, and let the warm soup slide into his mouth. In his normal voice, he said, “That's good. Thanks. Help yourself, if you'd like to taste mine.”

She eyed him warily, clearly not knowing what to expect next. “No, thanks. Leek doesn't appeal to me tonight.”

He moved closer to her on the banquette so their hips and thighs touched, and rested his left hand on her leg. She gave a start. Twice he'd teased her with the scenario of reaching under her dress in a restaurant and making her come. Her little jump told him it was on her mind and the fact that she'd taken off her thong suggested she was open to it.

With his other hand, he resumed eating his soup. After a moment, Lily did the same.

After a couple of minutes of silence, she gestured toward a pretty brunette with flushed cheeks and a sparkly top, sitting with a distinguished-looking guy with silver-streaked hair. “She was in the ladies' room when I went in.” His wife was making small talk. It was something she did to mask nervousness.

“Oh?” Dax rubbed his thumb over the bump of her garter under the fabric of her skirt. If Lily reached under the napkin on his lap, she'd discover he had things other than small talk in mind.

“It's a lovely restroom, by the way.”

“Uh-huh?”

“Lots of marble, and the toilet stalls are separate little rooms with real walls.”

His attention perked and his cock pulsed. Now
that
was interesting information. He glanced at Lily, who was sipping her martini. Was she really making idle chitchat, or did she have an ulterior motive? Sex in a public restroom? They'd never done that.

Was it a secret fantasy for her? Tonight, she was his sub. If he told her to do it, she'd either obey or say her safe word. How far could he push his wife past her inhibitions to hidden desires she might not even have acknowledged to herself? He adjusted the white napkin that concealed his bulging fly.

When he and Lily finished their soup and drinks, the waiter appeared. He poured a mouthful of wine for Dax to taste and approve, then filled their glasses and cleared the empty soup bowls.

After Lily tried the wine, Dax asked, “How do you like it?”

“Very nice. It'll go beautifully with the duck. And the shallot tart.”

A moment later, the waiter slipped the appetizer in front of her, and gave Dax a grilled portobello mushroom. After the first couple of bites, Dax, who knew Lily liked portobello mushrooms, said, “Would you like a taste?”

“I would. Thanks.”

She reached over with her fork but he stopped her. “No. I'll feed you.” He cut a slice and held his fork toward her lips.

After a momentary pause, she took the bite delicately, her pink lips closing over it in a way that had him imagining them on his swollen cock. She cut a slice of shallot tart and offered it to him on her fork.

“Thank you. You learn quickly.” He ate it off her fork.

When they both returned to eating their own food, he inched her skirt upward, brushing her stocking-clad leg with his fingers. “Slide forward on the seat. Use the edge of the tablecloth and your napkin to cover my hand.”

Silently, she obeyed, hiking her skirt up so she wasn't sitting on the delicate fabric. The rise and fall of her breasts told him her breath had quickened.

His fingers reached the top of her stocking and tracked the line of the garter upward across warm skin, smoother and silkier than the stocking. “Don't let me stop you from eating,” he told her, using the edge of his fork to cut another bite of his mushroom.

“Dax, you aren't really going to—”

“Stop.” He pinched her thigh, eliciting a startled squeak. “I gave you permission to speak, not to question my actions.”

Her throat rippled as she swallowed.

“Do you want to say your safe word?”

Slowly, she shook her head. “No, Falcon.”

In silence, they both ate, taking occasional sips of wine. His thumb stroked back and forth, back and forth, moving a bit higher now and then. Finally, it brushed hot, damp flesh, the swollen lips of her pussy.

She gasped and her fingers, lifting her wineglass, trembled. She stared into the red liquid intently, but didn't take a drink. Color bloomed on her cheeks.

The waiter came to clear their appetizer plates, and brought crystal bowls holding grape-sized balls of pale yellow sorbet. “A palate cleanser.” He appeared not to notice anything strange about the way they were sitting. “Champagne and lemongrass sorbet.”

“Thanks,” Dax managed, while Lily kept quiet.

He ate a couple of the balls. Light and tangy, the sorbet melted on his tongue. Too bad he couldn't pack the rest of the balls inside his pants to cool down his overheated cock. But that gave him an idea.

“Eat your sorbet,” he ordered Lily.

Obediently, she spooned up a ball.

He drew his hand from between her legs, noting the surprised flare of her nostrils. After glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he dragged his fingers through the remaining sorbet in his bowl then lowered his hand again. The brush of his chilled fingers against her hot flesh made her gasp again, and when he thrust a finger inside her, she squeaked.

“Shh,” he warned. “You don't want to cause a scene.”

“I . . .” She stared at him, blue eyes huge, glittering with shock and arousal. “Oh God.”

She didn't say “Skookumchuck,” so he pumped his finger slowly back and forth, her steamy flesh clinging to him.

Lily sat motionless but for the rapid rise and fall of her breasts.

“Finish your sorbet.” He eased another finger into her.

She let out the faintest moan, but wielded her spoon.

With his wrist cocked at an awkward angle, he circled both fingers as he pumped in and out, swirling round and round. His palm brushed her clit.

Lily gulped down her sorbet and put down her spoon. She leaned back so her head and shoulders rested against the back of the banquette and her ass and hips were almost at the edge, pressing into his hand. Breathy little pants told him how aroused she was.

The pressure behind his fly begged for release, and he was almost glad to see their waiter heading toward them. He withdrew his hand. “Waiter, incoming.”

She straightened hurriedly, glancing down to make sure the napkin and tablecloth still covered her. She took a deep breath and he heard it sigh out.

When the waiter cleared the sorbet bowls, he said, “How was it?”

“Surprisingly delicious,” Lily said, shooting a sideways glance at Dax. “But over too soon.”

Dax stifled a chuckle as the waiter replied, “I hear that a lot. I'll be back with your entrees.”

When the other man departed, Dax lifted the hand that had been inside Lily and raised it to his mouth. He inhaled her heady scent then licked his fingers to taste her tangy juices.

Watching him, she let out another of those tiny moans.

“Over too soon?” he said. “It was only an appetizer. The main course is yet to come.”

“When? How?” Remembering, she added, “Falcon.”

“Don't question me. Trust me to look after you.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“Tell me you don't find this sexy,” he challenged her.

“It is, but I'm all worked up and I don't know what we're going to do about it,” she complained.

“We're going to eat dinner, and you're going to keep wondering exactly when and how I'm going to look after you.”

A grin tugged at the edges of her lips. “Okay, I admit that's titillat—” She swallowed the last syllable as the waiter hurried over with their dinner plates.

Both meals looked delicious and Dax dug into his, glad to let the arousal level in his body drop a few degrees. The lamb was tender and succulent, flavored with rosemary, pepper, and garlic. The small roasted potatoes, baby asparagus, and golden beets were delicious too. “How's your duck?”

“Scrumptious.” She cut a slice and offered it to him on her fork.

He tasted it, said, “That is good,” then offered her a bite of lamb. When she took it into her mouth and closed her lips, he ran his thumb caressingly over her top lip, then her bottom one.

Studying his face, she chewed and swallowed. “Dax, I can't believe what you did. I can't believe I let you. This doesn't feel like me tonight.”

“Are you complaining?”

“Not yet.” Mischief gleamed in her eyes. “I'm waiting to see if the main course measures up to the appetizer.”

“I told you, you need to trust me.”

They ate in companionable silence for a few minutes. Dax always ate more quickly, and by the time he'd almost finished, she was only halfway through. With a few bites remaining on his plate, he dropped his left hand to her napkin-covered thigh. “Slide forward again.”

“Now?”

He gave her his best dom stare. “You're questioning me?”

“I . . . guess not,” she said uncertainly, and slipped forward to the front of the bench.

His hand found its way under the napkin and between her thighs, all the way to the top. Her arousal would have cooled, as had his own. So he teased her with slow, gentle strokes across her pussy, but didn't enter her yet. “Keep eating. I know you can multitask.”