“We’ve got the place all to ourselves,” he said as she got closer. “And can I tell you how happy I am that you have a four-poster bed?”
She took the two steps up to the porch. “You didn’t get enough by the pond, cowboy?”
He locked an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. “Not nearly. Never enough with you.”
Her skin went goose bumpy as her chest pressed against his. “You know I have an early morning ahead of me?”
“Hmm,” he said, backing them both through the open doorway, then kicking the front door shut. “Maybe we should skip sleep altogether, then.”
“You’re insatiable.”
“Guilty as charged.” He went for the tie on her wrap dress and pulled. “But you can always say no.”
She knew she should stop him, knew that every time she let him touch her she became more ensnared in her fucked-up feelings for him, but she couldn’t resist the siren song and the rush of having his hands against her again. “Why do I never want to?”
He shoved the dress off her and kissed and licked his way up her neck. “You’re always so edible, Charlotte. I can taste the night air on you.”
She tilted her head back, and he traced his tongue along the hollow of her throat. Like a burning match to wax, her insides went warm and liquid in an instant. “God, yes.”
He chuckled against her jaw. “I’m not the only insatiable one here. Go to your bedroom and stand by the foot of the bed to wait for me. I want to take my time with you.”
“Yes, Grant.” There really was no other answer she could’ve given. Her body and mind craved him like nothing she’d experienced before. She needed this. Him.
He released her and she made her way through her small living room to her bedroom. The room was bathed in the warm glow of her bedside lamp, the scene so familiar but yet foreign. Never before had she walked into her room and viewed it through someone else’s eyes. The thick posts of her bed now seemed a sensual choice, sinister in the best way possible. Her sheets—a high-thread-count gift to herself—now beckoned with promises of downy softness against bare skin. And oh, the things Grant could do with the small collection of vibrators she kept hidden in her panty drawer.
She left her undergarments on and faced the bed, keeping her back to the door, but her eyes fixed on the mirror above her dresser. Her heart hammered as she listened to Grant’s heavy footsteps make their way around her home. She had no idea what he was doing but had no doubt he had more in store for her than a quick romp before bed.
A shadow crossed over the mirror and she sucked in a breath as Grant’s wide frame filled her doorway. “What a pretty view.”
He stepped behind her, his body heat radiating onto her skin, and ran a gentle hand over the curve of her ass, then traced along the crease. The pad of his finger pressed against her back entrance through the thin fabric of her panties. She shivered, the still-foreign sensation stoking the flames of need inside her.
“I need to take you here, sweet Charlotte,” he said, his voice gruff. “I can’t keep touching this beautiful ass of yours and not feel it around me.”
She wet her lips, catching her own unsure eyes in the mirror’s reflection even as the decadent sensation of him teasing her there had a new rush of moisture slicking her panties. She’d enjoyed the hell out of the plugs he’d used on her, but he was so much bigger than that. There was no way it wouldn’t hurt. “I’m a little scared.”
“Mmm,” he said, taking a long, deep inhale as he continued to stroke her. It was as if he was breathing in her fear, feasting on it.
“You like that I’m scared,” she said, more realization than accusation.
He kissed the slope of her shoulder, his teeth grazing her skin. “I could make you feel better and say it doesn’t, but I’d be lying.”
She closed her eyes, trying to reel in her runaway nerves. He was a sadist and had never apologized for that. Of course he didn’t mind that she was scared.
“A little fear makes your pulse go fast and your skin turn flushed.” He pulled her panties to the side, then slid a finger along her folds, sinking deep into her pussy. “And look how wet it makes you. I’m not the only one who gets off by the rush of adrenaline. There’s a reason you seek out all those extreme sports and adventures. You’re made for this, Charlotte. Your body and mind seek it.”
Her leg muscles seemed to liquefy as he worked another finger inside her. She bowed forward, her palms hitting the mattress, saving her from falling face-first into the comforter. His words were like the sharp, quick stings of his riding crop—the accuracy behind them exposing all her vulnerable places.
“I bet if I lit candles and played soft music while gently introducing the possibility of anal sex to you over wine, you’d shut down. You’re not that kind of girl.”
She stiffened, the assumption—though screaming with truth in her ears—all too close to what she’d been dealing with all her life. You’re not like normal girls. “So, what, I’m not worth the wining, dining, and romancing?”
His free hand came down hard on her ass, the sharp smack sending a jolt through her veins and a cry from her lips. “Don’t do that, Charlotte. Don’t turn my words around and use them as weapons.”
Her fingers curled into the comforter, rebellion welling up inside her.
He pulled away, removing all contact. “Before you speak, I suggest you think long and hard about what you want. I’ll give you one chance to make a request tonight. If that’s candles and opera music, I’ll make it happen. But whatever you request better be what you really want, not what you wish you wanted.”
She stared at the tone-on-tone stripes of her comforter, her breathing rapid with a confusing combination of anger and desire. Grant’s hard command had tempted a knee-jerk response, but she’d bit down on her tongue to keep it in. When she pictured the gentle, romantic evening he was offering her, it left her cold. Her other lovers had tried that route, and it’d never affected her the way she’d hoped it would. She craved genuine emotion with Grant, but not in that Hallmark-commercial kind of way, and definitely not in the bedroom.