“A little, but not in a bad way.” Her rear had been tender when she’d first sat up
this morning, but the effect had been anything but unpleasant. To her own surprise,
she’d gone hot and bothered in an instant at the sensation, at the memory of his hands
on her.
“I have to say, when I woke up without you next to me, I was a little worried I’d
scared you off.” His warm palms spanned her waist beneath the shirt. “I know you revealed
more about yourself than you planned to last night. And I was harder on you than I’d
originally anticipated being for our first time together.”
She looked up at him, finding his expression a little guarded, tentative. Like he
was half-expecting her to scamper right out the door. “I’m not going anywhere, Wyatt.
Last night was good, really good. Yes, you surprised me. I didn’t think you’d be so . . .”
His gaze was heavy on hers. “So what?”
“So all in,” she said, searching for the right words. “When you said you didn’t do
this anymore, that you could put it aside, I figured you had just done it as kinky
fun in the past. You know, played around with it. I didn’t expect—”
“Yeah,” he said, releasing a breath and reaching up to touch her face. “I didn’t know
how it would go either. But it seems the door is either wide open for me or locked
tight when it comes to this. And being around you busts that door right down. I need
to know you’re okay with that.”
She licked her lips. A few days ago, that probably would’ve scared her off. Part of
her had anticipated being able to hold on to a little control, to manipulate him a
bit. But when he’d turned down her offer to finish the blow job, she’d realized how
seriously he was taking the training. He’d wanted her to finish him off, and she could
see the need painted all over his face. But she’d earned a punishment, and he wasn’t
going to let her take control by using his own pleasure against him. So, he’d set
aside his needs and had taken the less pleasurable route to remind her of her mistake
and her role. It was the move of a seasoned dominant. It had scared the hell out of
her. And had also soothed her in some undefinable way.
He’d put her first. No guy had ever put her first.
“You’re very good at it,” she said, being honest but dodging his question about how
she was feeling.
He pushed her hair behind her ears, his gaze tender. “And I thought you were beautiful
already, but you’re breathtaking in submission, Kelsey. Like punch-me-in-the-gut gorgeous.”
She glanced down, her cheeks warming at the compliment. She was used to guys telling
her she was pretty or sexy or whatever. She’d heard every version of male bullshit
imaginable while working at the strip club. But somehow, the way Wyatt said it made
her believe he wasn’t simply talking about her ample rack or how she looked naked.
“Thank you.”
“So I didn’t scare you, huh?” he asked, lifting her chin upward.
Yes.
But not in the way he feared. And even if her mind was yelling at her to run, to
hide from this man who seemed to get under her armor so easily, she couldn’t bring
herself to do it. Even now, all she wanted to do was touch him, be touched, have him
command her body in a way no one else ever had. “I want to be here, Wyatt.”
His mouth curled upward, pure pleasure in his eyes. “Glad to hear it.”
He leaned past her and set her closed notebook down on the chair, then shoved the
bowl of pears on the kitchen table over to the edge, almost sending it crashing to
the floor.
He grabbed her waist and guided her toward the tabletop. “Lay down, love.”
She glanced back at the long wooden table. Her lips parted to question him, but the
singular look in his eyes didn’t leave much room for interpretation. “Yes, sir.”
She scooted onto the table and lay down, leaving her calves hanging over the edge.
Without a word, he tugged her underwear off, then came around to the other side and
helped her pull the borrowed shirt off, leaving her bare in the daybreak sunlight
filtering through the windows.
When he made his way back to her lower half, he guided her ankle to the corner of
the table and wrapped soft material around it. She pulled in a breath.
“I should be more prepared,” he said almost to himself as he secured her ankle to
the post. “But I don’t have any cuffs that will work with the legs of this table.
So this shirt and a kitchen towel are going to have to do. Does that feel too tight?”
“No, sir,” she said, her voice catching in her throat.
“Good, girl. Now reach out and grab the edges of the table. If you let go, I’ll find
something to tie your hands as well.” She did as she was told, her temperature climbing
from simmer to steady burn as she lay there for him. She hadn’t been bound by anyone
since Davis. If anything should trigger her fear, this should. But none came. This
was on a different planet from being tied against her will with those painful zip
ties, and her body registered that fact immediately. This was sexy and fun and so . . .
fucking . . . hot. Wyatt bound her other ankle, leaving her spread wide and exposed
for whatever he planned to do with her. Once he rose to his full height again, his
hot gaze swept over her naked form, and amusement tugged at the corners of his mouth.
“Now this is a beautiful breakfast.”
He gave her knee a quick squeeze and then headed back toward the stove. She’d made
a pot of coffee already, and he turned his back to her for a moment, fixing himself
a cup like he had all the time in the world.
“Uh, sir?”
He peeked back at her, a naughty boy smile. “Yes, love?”
“Did I do something wrong?” Was this her punishment for getting out of bed without
asking him if that was okay?
“Of course not.” He poured a dash of skim milk into his cup. “But I spend every day
of my life with a packed-to-the-gills schedule. This morning is about indulging. And
right now, I want to take my time indulging in you.”
She swallowed past the sudden dryness in her throat. “Oh.”
He took a long sip of his coffee, keeping his eyes on her. “So tell me about these
muffins.”
A quick laugh bubbled out. It was the question he asked her each morning in the restaurant.
Only she’d never had to answer him while naked, flat on her back, and about as turned
on as a person could be. She cleared her throat, preparing her specials-of-the-day
voice. “They’re orange macadamia nut with a white chocolate drizzle. Well, they will
be once I get around to drizzling them.”
“Sounds delicious. Your baking is going to be hell on my strict eating regime, Ms.
LeBreck. All this temptation. I’m not usually one to indulge, but I find it hard to
resist when you’re around.” He picked up the little bowl of melted white chocolate
she’d set on top of a hot mug of water to keep it warm. “Is this the drizzle?”
“Yes, sir.”
He set down his coffee and dipped a finger in the chocolate, then brought it to his
mouth, tasting. “Mmm, that’s amazing. What’d you add to it?”
“Orange zest. It’s even better on top of the muffins.”
He raised an eyebrow and grabbed a whisk from the carafe of utensils next to the stove.
“Is that right?”
She couldn’t answer as she watched him stir the mixture slowly, then draw the whisk
above the bowl so that little ribbons of the chocolate ran off the whisk and back
into the bowl. The wicked quirk of his mouth told her everything she needed to know.
He strolled her way again, the front of his pajama bottoms showing signs of his growing
interest in
breakfast
, and set the bowl next to her. His hand caressed her hip, sending hot goose bumps
marching across her skin. “Last night was going to be about your pleasure. About me
discovering how you liked to be touched. But you tried to steer the ship instead.”
Her tongue darted out, swiping across her bottom lip. “I’m sorry, sir.”
“Shh.” He pressed his finger to her mouth, the remnants of the chocolate sweet against
her lips. “You accepted your punishment beautifully last night, so no need to apologize
again. But now, it’s my turn to get what I wanted in the first place.”
He lifted the whisk from the bowl and held it over her chest. Warm ribbons of chocolate
drizzled down, coating her nipples and sliding down over her breasts. Her neck arched,
the sinful sensation racing straight downward, heating everything in its path, and
settling between her thighs. The scent of orange hit her nose. Wyatt smiled and drew
the whisk over her belly, leaving a swirling splatter pattern of glossy white chocolate
in his wake.
“Too warm?” he asked.
“God, no,” she breathed. “It’s . . .”
Then his mouth was on her, stealing her words. His tongue glided over the side of
her breast, following the trail of chocolate until his lips locked around a nipple.
The softness of his mouth mixing with the abrasive grit of sugar in the chocolate
was almost too much to take at once. She moaned into the touch, and he sucked hard,
bringing her nipple to an aching point. Her clit throbbed in time with each suck,
her ankles tugging at the bindings as her thighs automatically tried to close and
provide pressure for the insistent need there.
Wyatt eased back a bit, flicking her once more with the tip of his tongue. “So the
question is, love, do you respond to the soft and sensual approach . . .” He reached
out and circled her nipple oh so gently. “Or do you prefer a little bite?”
His thumb and forefinger clamped onto her, pinching. Her back arched off the table,
a hot boom of need rippling outward from his touch. “Fuck.”
He chuckled, a darkly pleasant sound. “Well, that answers that. Guess it’s a good
thing Jace talked me into buying some brutal little clamps for our trip.”
She shivered, and Wyatt cupped her other breast, bringing his mouth down again—sucking
and laving, cleaning every drop of confection off her. The warm chocolate he’d painted
on her belly dripped down her sides, making it feel like she had more than one hot
tongue licking at her. Even the sticky, wet sounds of chocolate-covered lips against
skin were driving her to the brink of desperation. She wriggled beneath him, the need
coiling and pulsing in her, energy demanding to be let out.
He gave her thigh a sharp little smack while grazing her nipple with his teeth.
Stay still
. He didn’t have to say it; she got the message. Her fingers gripped the table harder,
and moisture coated her sex, her own scent drifting up to her nose and mixing with
the orange from the chocolate.
The house phone rang, startling her for a moment, but Wyatt lifted his head, looking
down at her. “Ignore it. All your focus on me and what you’re feeling.”
“Yes, sir.”
The phone continued to ring as he straightened and grabbed the bowl again. Before
she knew it, he was in between her spread thighs, looking down at her with unabashed
hunger. He lifted the whisk and drizzled the chocolate over her inner thighs and over
her freshly waxed mound. The warmth alone reminded her of how it’d felt to have him
come on her last night, his semen sliding down and over her back. It’d been one of
the sexiest things she’d ever experienced.
He touched the lips of her sex, a gentle caress. “You’re so pink and swollen, love.
I can’t wait to taste every inch of you. Would you like that?”
“Yes, sir,” she gasped. “Please.”
He grabbed her leg and drew his tongue up her thigh, licking off the chocolate and
making her quiver. “I will. As soon as I get you all cleaned off. As much as I love
your cooking, when I eat this pretty pussy of yours, I don’t want to taste anything
but you.”
She whimpered at that, the pulsing in her clit becoming like a bass drum reverberating
through her body.
Then he was doing exactly what he promised, tasting and dragging his tongue along
every inch of her inner thighs, laving it off her mound, taking his time and driving
her to a panting, begging mess. Unable to keep ahold of the table, her hand balled
and pounded in a steady rhythm against the table, the energy having to go somewhere.
Wyatt paused in his tortuous treatment, his voice gritty with his own restraint. His
thumb grazed over her clit, a gentle stroke, but it sent sparks through her nonetheless.
“Touch your tits for me, Kelsey. And don’t be shy. Let me see just what you like.”
She raised her head to meet his gaze. His eyes were dark with intention as he hovered
there between her thighs, looking up the length of her body. She held his eye contact
and brought her hands to her breasts, cupping and sliding her hands over her wet,
sticky skin. She knew how to do this for effect, to put on the dancer show, but she
had no desire to fake it with Wyatt. So instead she touched where she needed and how
she wanted, pinching and plucking at her nipples until they were pulsing in time with
her clit. Then, lifting her head higher and arching her back, she grabbed her breast
and did something she’d only ever tried in private. She dragged the tip of her tongue
over her own nipple, tasting the chocolaty remnants. Wyatt’s groan echoed off the
high ceilings of the kitchen.
“You are the sexiest fucking thing I’ve ever seen.” He held her thighs wide, his grip
tight and his voice lowering. “You keep this up, and I’m not going to want to let
you go at the end of this trip. I’ll be cuffing you to my bed so I can keep you.”
Her eyes squeezed shut and her hand fell away from her breast as startled alarm went
through her.
No
. He wasn’t supposed to say things like that. He wasn’t supposed to make this more
than it was. But before she could react further or respond to Wyatt’s declaration,
he lowered his head and buried his face between her legs, his lips and tongue hitting
her exactly where she needed.
She bucked against him, moaning, as he lit up her nervous system with his tongue.
Thoughts emptied out of her head. All that was left was the mind-bending ecstasy he
was giving her with his relentless, sensual ministrations. Breaking the rules, she
reached down and threaded her fingers in his silky dark hair, her hips now rocking
in rhythm with him, riding the pleasure. His nose nuzzled her clit as his tongue delved
inside her fully, in and out in an erotic slide. Fucking her with his mouth.