I can only shake my head. "Nothing, I swear. It was just a feeling. Like eyes on you in a dark alley."
He's silent for so long that I start to think he's expecting me to continue. But I really don't know what else to say, so I'm quiet, too. And when he does finally speak, his words both surprise me--and light a fire inside me.
"Baby," he says as his palm grazes over my thigh. "Am I going to have to punish you?"
I can imagine what kind of punishment Damien will come up with, and the air between us has grown so thick with electricity that I can practically hear the crackling.
Being punished doesn't scare me. On the contrary, the thought of Damien's palm against my ass turns me on, and I squirm a bit, knowing that I'm wet merely from anticipation. But as much as I might enjoy the punishment, the accusation pisses me off. Because I really don't know why the man got under my skin, and I'm certain Damien thinks I'm holding something back.
"I told you the truth," I assert. "I don't know what about the guy scared me."
"I believe you," he says, and I see amusement dance in his eyes. "But that's not why I'm going to punish you."
"It's not?"
"It's not," he acknowledges. He takes my legs and tugs them out from under me so that I'm forced to sit upright, with my feet on the floor and Damien in front of me. His hands are on my denim-clad knees, and moving very slowly up my inner thighs. My jeans are suddenly far too constricting, and my breath is coming more and more shallow.
"You see--"
His palm presses against my crotch.
"--the woman I love more than my own life--"
His fingers toy with the button on my jeans.
"--she didn't recognize me. Did she?"
With his eyes steady on mine, his hand slides into my jeans and underwear. I gasp and arch back as pre-orgasmic spasms rock through me from the brush of his fingertip over my clit.
"Did she?" he repeats.
"No." Just forcing the word out is torture, I'm so lost in the storm of sensation that Damien is creating. I draw a stuttering breath and try to conjure words. "Your text. You said two more hours. I didn't expect you before midnight."
"I sent that text around seven-thirty," he says, and I realize the text must have been delayed because of the weather. When I'd responded that I missed him, he thought I was just texting because I was thinking of him.
"But I thought--"
"I understand," he says, making me cry out as he thrusts two fingers inside me. "And yet I'm unpersuaded by your excuses."
"What are you going to do?"
"Oh, that's easy, baby." He rises up and bends over, his lips brushing against my temple as he whispers in my ear, his words and his tone making me tremble with longing. "I'm going to make certain that you won't ever, ever forget me again."
"Tell me how," I beg. I want his words stroking me along with his hands. I want to bathe in the knowledge of what he's going to do to me. I want to feel myself getting wetter and wetter as Damien whispers exactly how he's going to fuck me.
But all Damien does is shake his head. His fingers are still inside me, and his thumb is on my mons so that he has a hold on me. And then, before I even have time to recognize what he's doing, he pulls me forward roughly until my ass is right at the edge of the couch and I'm slouched back, breathing hard, my body hyperaware.
"Damien--" It's the only word I can manage. He's making small circles with his thumb just above my clit, and the fact that I'm still in my jeans so that his hand is forced tight against my flesh only adds to the pleasure that is rolling through me like a building storm. But that sweet sensation is mixed with a wild need--a desperate desire for a release that won't quite come because his hand is just a few millimeters from where I crave it.
The corner of his mouth rises. "You like that?"
"Yes--god, yes." I tilt my head back, expecting more.
Damien, damn him, pulls his hand away.
I make a low, moaning sound of protest, and the bastard chuckles. As he does, he grips my jeans on either side and tugs them down hard, taking my underwear with them, until the waistband is around my knees.
The jeans are as effective as cuffs, preventing me from spreading my legs any further, though I desperately want to. I struggle to do exactly that, my body acting on pure need rather than reason. I want to be fully open to him--I want to feel everything. Have everything. I want Damien's touch, his mouth, his cock.
And then his fingers are back and he's thrusting them inside me, so, so deep, and I'm rocking against him and his thumb is on my clit, and it feels so damn good.
"Tell me what you want," he demands.
"Fuck me." My voice is raw. Desperate. "Please, Damien. Please fuck me."
His fingers go even deeper and I gasp as he rises higher on his knees, his hand pushing hard against me. I grind against him, and he leans forward, his mouth capturing mine, his tongue fucking my mouth even as his fingers fill my cunt. It's raw and wild and I love it. But I want more. I want his cock. I want him deeper. I want to feel him come inside me, and I want to explode with him.
"You want me to fuck you?"
"Yes."
"That's what you want?"
"Damien, yes. Please, yes."
And then he pulls away, and I'm left gasping. His mouth no longer on mine. His fingers no longer inside me.
"I don't know." His grin is wildly wicked. "Maybe I shouldn't. Maybe not fucking you is just the punishment you need."
Chapter 3
"You wouldn't," I say, though I can't keep the genuine worry out of my voice.
"Wouldn't I?"
I shake my head, trying to appear more certain than I feel.
"Why not?"
"Because that wouldn't just punish me. It would torture you, too."
"It would," he agrees. "But while I'm not usually averse to self-sacrifice for a good cause--and," he adds as his eyes skim over my body, "you are a very good cause--tonight I have something else in mind. Take off your jeans, baby. Take off everything and get on the floor. I want you at my mercy."
"I'm always at your mercy," I say as I begin to comply, and from the gleam in his eyes, it's clear that he knows it.
"You are," he says, a softness sneaking in to dull the sharp edge of his voice. "As much as I'm at yours. But I've been thinking about you all day, hot and naked and wet for me. And tonight I'm taking what I want. And, baby? I promise you're going to enjoy it."
I'm on the floor now, my clothes abandoned, and I whimper a little as his words caress me, making my nipples peak and my clit throb. I have absolutely no doubt he's right. But "enjoy" is too mild a term. Whatever he has planned, I'm going to fucking love it.
"Roll over and get on your knees," he demands as he unbuttons his shirt, then tosses it aside.
I do as he says, then look over my shoulder to see him, looking magnificent with his broad shoulders and tight abs. He's strong and lean and hard, and there's no question that he used to be an elite athlete. I don't care about tennis at the moment, though. On the contrary, right now all I want to do is taste every delicious inch of him.
Of course I can't. Not when I've been ordered onto my hands and knees. And so I stay put and wait for Damien to touch me.
Damien, however, has other plans, and I watch, confused, as he strides out of the room and into the kitchen. I hear a door open, then rattling, then I hear the door close tight again.
A moment later, I hear the tread of his shoes on the tile floor, followed by his return from around the corner.
As far as I can tell, nothing has changed. He's not holding anything and he's still wearing his slacks. So what was that all about?
"Put your arms under you, baby," he says. "I want you on your knees, your wrists beside your ankles, your ass in the air."
It takes me a moment to form a mental picture, but when I do, I realize that I need to put my cheek on the ground. That puts me in an even more vulnerable position than hands and knees. That way, my back is flat. But like this, my ass
is high. And when Damien tells me to spread my legs so that there's about eight inches between them, I'm suddenly wide open.
"Beautiful," he says, and the reverence in his voice makes me wet. Something I'm sure he realizes, as I'm completely and fully exposed to him.
He kneels down and caresses my ass with the palm of his hand. My core clenches in response, and though he says nothing, I hear the small noise he makes and am certain that he realizes just how much I'm craving him.
"I want you to stay like this," he says, slowly stroking my perineum so that I have to fight not to squirm, and actually bite my lip to hold back a needy moan. "Do you think you can?" he asks as he smacks my ass with the palm of his hand, then caresses the stinging area. "Tell me, baby. Can you be very, very good?"
"Yes," I whisper.
"I'm not so sure," he says. "And I'd hate for you to break the rules and be punished. Why don't I help you out?"
I have no idea what he's talking about, and from this position with my head so close to the ground it's hard to see what he's doing. But I can see that he has something in his hand and that he's bending down. A moment later, I feel him slide something beneath my ankle, and then I hear the familiar clicking of a cable tie as he creates a loop around my ankle.