“You don’t get much X-rated sex in comedies.”
“Now that’s just sad.” Still holding her gaze, he turned his hand over, trailing the backs of his fingers down her neck. When his hand closed, he had her hair in an unbreakable grip. He tugged, forcing her head to tilt back.
She couldn’t move away as he took her mouth, penetrating with his tongue, exploring… Her mind spun under the onslaught as he moved closer.
She stiffened as he started to push her back—and he paused. Letting her decide. She shivered as she remembered sex at her apartment and how he’d made her verbalize her desire for him to stay. And how, after that point, she wasn’t allowed to decide anything.
She wanted him tonight. So, so much.
No. She should leave.
“Jake, I didn’t come here to mess around.” Yet, what would it hurt? He was so sad; he needed her. And she wanted him. She’d lusted after him from the first moment, and the more she got to know him, the more she wanted him.
Tonight, she’d been afraid to find his home decorated in a snobbish-sophisticated style. Instead the landscaping was sweetly rural, the house older and decorated for comfort in creams and browns, with tall windows and ceiling fans in every room.
In the living room, a geometric design rug, thick enough to screw around on, covered the lime-washed oak flooring. A leather-topped coffee table practically begged for bare feet. The long sectional faced the usual hi-tech guy electronics, like the television that took up most of the wall. Another wall was all windows, framed by fan palms, and overlooking the rolling fields. The low bookcase against the third wall held military history and thrillers. She felt at home in his house.
And she could stay tonight. She could. She’d be leaving Florida soon. Having sex with the boss wouldn’t affect her job; she’d be gone within a month.
As her resistance eroded, he knew; he pushed her back and followed her down. His lips were firm, knowing, yet soft enough to lure. His weight pushed her deeper into the cushions, and the anxious thrill of being overpowered increased when he set her arms above her head.
“Jake. What are you doing?”
“This.” As he pinned her wrists with one powerful hand, she instinctively struggled and found herself helpless. The melting sensation in her depths said her body wanted that loss of control—no matter what her mind tried to tell her.
His hip rubbed hers as he sat up. For a moment, he studied her, and his lips curved upward. “Good,” he murmured in his smoky smooth voice. “We agree. Tying you down is an excellent idea.”
Her mouth dropped open. “We? I didn’t say anything.”
“Not verbally. But you have a very talkative body, sweetling.” He reached past the arm of the couch and pulled something up—two Velcro cuffs attached to a thick rope. Swiftly, he slipped one cuff around her right wrist, yanked the Velcro tight, and did the same to the other. She had no chance to escape before he’d restrained her arms.
She glared at him, trying to ignore the internal flutter at how easily he’d immobilized her. “I didn’t agree.”
“Safeword’s red, buttercup. Anything else is agreement.” His eyes laughed at her as he adjusted the cuffs to a more comfortable snugness.
Sitting back, he considered her. “You’re a bit overdressed.” His voice came close to a purr. “Let me fix that for you.”
She’d removed her sandals earlier. Now he yanked off her shorts, started to take off her thong, and paused at the picture of a four-leaf clover—directly over her clit—with green letters stating, RUB FOR LUCK.
“As you wish.” Grinning, he pulled her legs apart and followed the instructions. His scraping strokes over the fabric grazed her clit, making it burn, making it swell. God, the man knew how to touch a woman.
He stopped long enough to yank off her thong, then ran his finger over her bare pussy. “I do like the way you keep yourself.”
“Uh, thanks?” Yet his enjoyment made it worth the time doing Hazel’s accounts in exchange for a waxing…and the Jesus-Help-Me agony of having the wax ripped off.
One by one, Jake undid her buttons, and the anticipation grew within her. When he opened her front-hooked bra, her breasts spilled out.
“Fuck, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured and the compliment put a happy beat in her heart. Cupping his hands on the sides, he pushed her breasts together so he could lick her nipples. His mouth was hot, his tongue wet, slick, yet slightly scratchy.
Her breathing changed to short little pants as he played, and she shivered when he rubbed his bristly chin over the damp areolas. Her back arched, pushing her breasts toward him. God, she wanted more. Wanted him. Wanted—
“Like being scratched, eh? Let’s do more of that.” Smiling slightly, he lifted the hinged top of his coffee table.
Her eyes widened at the wealth of BDSM equipment. “Oh my God.”
“Why restrict myself to a one-room dungeon—I prefer to use the entire house.” He opened a small, carved box and fitted stainless steel claws over the fingertips of his right hand. Like a cat’s, each curved downward, narrowing to needle thinness.
A jolt of fear slid through her, and she tugged at the restraints. No give.
He lifted his hand.
“No!” The word burst from her. “I don’t like needles.”
With his unencumbered left hand, he captured her chin. “Look at me.”
She couldn’t pull her gaze from the sharp glittering claws. Her hands clenched.
“Look. At. Me.” The subterranean note in his order tugged on something deep inside her.
Her eyes lifted. Met his. Read the control in his steady green gaze. Jake—this is Jake. The breath blockaded in her lungs sighed out.
“Better.” Laughter tipped his lips. “However, be aware that I consider ‘no’ to be a delightful addition to an evening. A safeword will work. No turns me on.”
Oh God. Why did his pleasure in screwing with her limits make her hotter? She made a frustrated—worried—sound.
A crease appeared in his cheek. Turning his needle-tipped hand over, he skimmed over her hard-peaked nipples with only his bare knuckles. Not the claws.
Her hands relaxed.
His grip tightened on her chin, holding her face for his perusal. And then he drew the claws lightly from her right shoulder all the way to her wrist.
No pain. Just a long tickling array of scratches. Her skin tingled afterward.
“Breathe, Rainie,” he said softly.
She exhaled and sucked in air.
His laugh was sexily husky. His left hand stayed curved around her jaw, trapping her while he raked his clawed fingers along her stomach. He pressed sharply enough to not tickle, hard enough to remind her of the sharpness of the points.
Down they swept…toward her mound.
Every muscle in her body tensed. She started to draw her thighs together to protect the very, very exposed tissues.
“Don’t move, subbie.” His order held a growl that kept her legs in place.
The claws moved upward, then wandered to and fro over her torso. Below her breasts. Across her stomach. Above her mound. He made slow circles, small circles, wide circles.
The skin of her stomach grew more and more sensitive, then as if he’d turned a rheostat, her entire body became intensely aware of everything—the strength of his hand on her face, the scrape of his jeans against her hip, the cool air touching her damp pussy.
He ran the claws over the top of her breasts and paused, hovering over her left breast with the claws spread in a circle.
She squeaked in protest. Not there. No.
As he drew his fingers together, the needle tips scraped toward her nipple, panic-inducingly dangerous yet terrifyingly erotic. She was aroused, so, so aroused, panting for air and somehow frozen in place.
His gaze traveled from her face, her shoulders, her hands, and back to his claws. One tiny needle dragged over her nipple with enough sting to send a sizzle through her. To have her pussy throbbing with need.
Jake smiled as the slow application of sensual pain drew Rainie closer and closer to an orgasm.
He picked up his hand and started to set the claws on her other breast. But no. He wanted more. Wanted to see her climax with a need that was probably equal to her own. She came more beautifully than any woman he’d ever seen.
Turning sideways, he touched her mound with one bare finger. Her breathing went staccato for a moment. Unhurriedly, he fondled her pussy, enjoying the naked smoothness of her plump outer labia. Her darkly red inner folds were carnally slick. Ready for him. But he could wait…a while.
“I think you need a little more to occupy you,” he said. “I wouldn’t want you to get bored.”
Her tiny snort held both laughter and exasperation…and a hint of worry.
With his free hand, he took a rabbit vibrator from the toy box, choosing a size slightly smaller than his own cock, so he could enjoy filling her when he took her.
Her eyes widened, but a warning look kept her from speaking.
He wet the vibrator in her juices and slid it up into her cunt. She was puffy enough the vibrator stretched her, and she inhaled sharply. Perfect. With the rabbit in deep, the small vibrating ears barely brushed her clit. With a few clicks of the controls, he set it to a wavelike rhythm, from slow to fast.
She made a gloriously helpless noise. Her hips lifted. Wiggled. The color in her face increased, her lips such an inviting red that he took himself another probing kiss.