“Sort of.” He squeezed her hip in mild reproof. “Well, we’ll add that to the tally, won’t we?”
Tally? She wasn’t sure she wanted to know what that meant, but there was something she really did want to know. “May I…ask something?”
“You may. Sweet girl.”
The sensual caress of that voice spread heat through her, as if being held and surrounded by that strong male body weren’t already making her feel safer than she’d felt in…maybe ever.
“Why…” She paused, struggling with things she’d stopped talking about years ago, such that it was hard to speak of them even now. But he was waiting. “For so long, I couldn’t climax. But you…you acted like that didn’t worry you at all. How did you know? How do you know?”
He stroked silk flesh high on her thigh, his gaze dropping there with that intent focus that could get her aroused again in no time. She held her breath as he went higher, made a circle, stroked her outer labia. “Your breath gets short, the closer I get to your p-ssy, waiting for that one…bare…touch.” She made a noise as he brushed his finger over her *, then returned to making circles on her thigh. “I’ve met very few women who can’t climax, Rachel.” He met her gaze. “Whereas I’ve met plenty who’ve never had lovers who took the time or had the confidence to seek the key that would unleash that part of them. I’ve met even more who, through that history and their own lack of confidence and other emotional issues, built the walls that reinforce the problem.”
He saw things she really didn’t want anyone to see, but with him she didn’t seem to have a choice. She laid her head back against his shoulder, considering this remarkable and amazing male creature who’d come into her life like an irresistible storm. It wouldn’t last. Couldn’t last. Her heart cracked a little, and her hands closed in her lap, fighting the desire to trace his brow, slide her finger over his lips, see if he’d nip or lick at them, like Max.
“Will you tell me about yourself? Things I don’t already know.”
He tipped her chin up, holding it so he could keep her captured in his regard. “There are twenty-five thousand, six hundred and twelve things you don’t know about me. I’ll tell you one each day.”
She managed a smile, but thought the gesture was attached to her heart, the way it pulled painful strings there. “Jon.” Her voice was a whisper.
“That means it will take you seventy-plus years to know everything about me. When I turn one hundred, that will be the last one. Though I expect by then you’ll know the very first and very last thing you need to know about me, the only one that matters.”
“Don’t do this.” She tried to fold her arms against herself, hugging them up under her ribs, drawing in. “Jon, I can’t…”
“Can’t what?” Closing his hand on one of her arms, he pulled it away from her body. His touch slid down to her wrist and then he put her hand between her legs, his fingers pressing over hers on her p-ssy, so she felt the wetness his mouth and the climax had left there. It effectively pulled her attention back to him, made her feel out of control. He had the control.
“You just want one night, Rachel? Is that it?”
“No…” How could she deny wanting more of this? It wasn’t about what she wanted, but what she could handle. “But I don’t expect…promises or commitments. We can’t…you can’t… When you’re done with it, I’m not going to expect anything, but in order for that to happen I can’t…there’s no need to act like we have a future together.”
She stumbled to a halt as his expression cooled. Don’t ruin this, Rachel. For God’s sake, shut up.
“Hmm.” He cocked his head. “I understand. Spread your legs for me.”
Uncertain, she shifted, and then sucked in a breath as he moved her hand to the side and slid his fingers back into her, pushing in deep.
“Now cup your breasts and offer them to me.”
She had to brace her elbows on the chair arm, but she managed it, sliding her hands under her bosom and then tilting back against his hold so the pink-tipped breasts tilted up toward his unfathomable gaze.
“Stay like that.”
Keeping his hand inside her, he reached over his plate, to the casserole dish with the eggplant. Removing the lid, he dipped his finger into the sauce. Steam was coming from it, but he was able to collect enough to bring it to his mouth, taste. Approval laced his expression, but she was still uneasy about that hardness around his mouth, the stillness of his gaze on her. Picking up the ladle, he scooped up more of the sauce and brought it over her breasts.
“This is going to burn some, but it won’t be unbearable. Don’t move.”
She had a second to brace herself, then the hot marinara hit the upper curve, making her jump as it slid down and over her nipple. His mouth descended upon it, licking the sauce away, tasting her beneath it, scoring her with sharp teeth that made her gasp. Then he did it again to the other nipple. As he did, his fingers played inside her, sliding, scissoring, stroking. Her neck strained, and she wanted to drop her head back and thrash at the feeling, but she stayed utterly still at his command, the emotions of the past few moments swirling around them. While it made her nervous, it couldn’t repel what he was building around her again, walling her up in sensation, taking rational thought away.
When she was shuddering in that self-imposed stasis, he removed his fingers, put the top back on the casserole dish, took another swallow of wine. Pushing back from the table, he lifted her in his arms and moved away from the dining nook. He took her down the hall, to her bedroom.
“Jon, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“Sshh.”
The almost absent command reassured her, because there was a thoughtful note to it. As if he wasn’t mad now but…thinking. Then he put her down on her stomach on her bed, but he guided her feet to the floor. “Brace yourself up on your arms and raise your ass. I believe you need another spanking, because the one I gave you at the office hasn’t sunk in. And I think it’s best to get that out of the way before you rack up more than you can handle at one go.”
She was powerless to resist his commands, even as things were gathering inside her she didn’t know how to handle. How to release. She’d angered him, she was sure, but she didn’t know how to fix it, and she was taking a one-way slide toward misery, her mind starting to pull her away from this moment, this wonderful adventure she’d had to screw up by opening her mouth…
Laying his hand on the back of her neck, he pushed her face down to the mattress, but left her ass canted high in the air. “I’m not going to stop until I’m done, and I’m not going to tell you the number of strokes. I want you to give yourself to the pain, and wherever else your body or soul takes you.”
“Maybe we should—” She got out the three desperate words, but that was all she managed.
He had a strong hand. The palm smacked her bottom with force, sending a sting throughout all the nerve endings and ricocheting right into her p-ssy, her nipples, reminding her of all the hours they’d been stimulated by that chain upon her, those metal pieces. Another slap, and her ass wobbled in reverberation, her knees having to lock to hold her in place.