“Please.” She hesitated. “Back to my mother for a minute.”
He gave her his attention.
“I’d prefer just to tell her myself.”
“I said I was willing to meet her.”
In frustration, she sighed. “Do you ever relent?”
“I already have.”
He probably believed that.
“Originally,” he reminded her, “I said you couldn’t talk about it to anyone. I’m willing to consider that perhaps that’s unreasonable. So I need more information.”
“I still don’t like it.”
“I don’t like letting anyone else know.”
“Fine. I’ll message her and set up a time to see her. Is there anything on your schedule I need to know about?”
“I’ll rearrange things if I need to in order to make time. I’ll also have Thompson add you as an administrator on my calendar so you’ll always know where I am.”
Every step made the whole thing seem more real. “I…uhm…I’ll put my things away if that’s okay?”
He nodded. While he went to the kitchen, she sent her mother a message then walked toward his bedroom. If he had his way, it would be their room.
The place was so masculine, from the forest-green bedspread to the dark furnishings. Being in his closet was even more disquieting.
Everything was organized. On the far left were his suits, ranging in color from black to charcoal to light gray. His dress shirts were hung next to them. All were starched, all were white. Even from a distance she saw they were monogramed.
In the center of the closet, a few blazers divided the casual clothes from the business ones. His chinos were either khaki or navy. He’d hung the polo shirts together, grouped by color. Golf shirts were next. Off to the side were a handful of long-sleeved, soft-looking T-shirts. She noticed that every garment and hanger faced the same direction.
Connor joined her. She’d been so fixated on his level of order and precision that she hadn’t started to unpack her bag. “Did you have a professional help you organize the closet?”
He shook his head. “Judging me to be too regimental?”
“I wouldn’t say that out loud.”
“Which means I read your mind.”
She flushed, but she shrugged. “I’ve honestly never seen anything like it.”
“I found ways to cope in the last few years.”
“Since your father passed?”
His gaze shuttered, but surprisingly, he didn’t close her out. “That’s part of it, certainly.”
“And the rest?”
“Ask again over dinner.”
He offered the wine and she accepted, taking a small sip. She put the glass on top of the dresser and unpacked her things. She hung a dress on a rail. “It looks a little odd.”
“For now.”
“Are you sure you’re okay with me cluttering your space like this?”
“It won’t bother me in the least.”
Next she went into the bathroom to put away her personal items. “I’ve never done anything like this,” she said when she saw his reflection in one of the mirrors.
He lazed against the doorjamb, at ease. “What part?”
“Putting my stuff away at a man’s house. I hadn’t thought about it until now, but I rarely sleep over with a man. And I’ve never lived with anyone.”
“It’ll take some adjustment, but we’ll figure it out.”
Doubts and reality collided, crashing into her. She dropped her makeup bag onto the counter.
“Easy,” he said.
She turned to face him. “I’d really imagined we’d…”
He waited.
“Go to a justice of the peace or a judge. Some sort of civil ceremony. Then I’d see you at board meetings.” She pursed her lips.
“Lara, the day you walked in my office and I saw you in that delirium-inducing skirt, that became an impossibility. I was determined to have you. You will be waking up next to me for the next four years.”
“Three!”
He grinned. “Ends that argument.”
“Your contract said three years, Mr. Donovan.”
“And now you think it’s an excellent idea,” he said.
“Coercion is grounds to nullify the entire agreement.”
“That
wasn’t
coercion.”
“But it is trickery.”
“Lara, I’ve already told you I play to win. You’d do well to remember it.” In contradiction to his words, she saw a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth.
The crack in his hardened, careful veneer had a way of melting every bit of resolve. Unfortunately for her emotional well-being, it also drew her in closer.
“Have a drink of your wine. Relax a little, cut us both some slack. I didn’t pour you much because I want you of sound mind when we enter the playroom.”
Even though cool air whispered from the vents, she got very, very warm. “I thought what happened at my house sort of took the place of your plans for the afternoon.”
“It was only an appetizer.”
He left her alone, and it took all of her concentration to finish putting away her things. Her little bottles of shampoo and conditioner fit on one shelf inside the shower. But the soap she put in the dish near the bathtub.
After taking another sip of her drink, she went in search of him.
He was in the living room, sitting on the couch. “In our contract, we didn’t address birth control.”
She sank onto a chair. “I’m on the pill.”
“I always wear condoms, but since we’re going to be married, I expect we’ll want to forgo them sometime in the future.”
Lara nodded.
“And if you plan to get off the birth control pills, you’ll discuss it with me first?”
He’d said it so matter-of-factly that it was impossible to feel embarrassed. “Of course.”
“Good. Anything else you need to talk about before we go in the playroom?”
Her insides suddenly became molten. He was a master at using his voice and tone. He gave a slight emphasis to the word playroom, and he managed to change the subject from serious to sensual in only a few seconds.
“In that case, go in our bedroom and strip then join me in the playroom. Get in one of the positions I taught you earlier and wait patiently for my attention.”
Something in her responded to him completely. She nodded.
She walked down the hallway, her shoes echoing off the hardwood boards. And she was aware of his gaze the entire way.
In his closet—their closet—she hung up her dress and put her panties in a laundry bag that she’d brought along. Then she put her bra in a drawer with the rest of her lingerie. It was interesting, being with him. In just a few days, she’d become more adept at keeping her focus even while things seemed a little out of control. Perhaps she understood him better. Being methodical was a skill, one that could serve her well. At the least, the thought kept her calm while she smoothed her hair and went to rejoin him.
He was already in the playroom, but he looked totally different, astoundingly Dominant.
Even though he’d given her instructions, her step faltered, and it took all her control not to speak to him.
He’d removed his jacket and turned back his sleeves, leaving his forearms bare. She drank in the sight of him—lean, commanding.
His legs were spread wide and his thighs looked powerful. He had the whip coiled in one hand.
If she’d ever had a sexual fantasy about a man, he was it.
He gave an almost imperceptible nod toward the floor.
Galvanized, she crossed to the center of the room and knelt. She settled in, this time with her gaze cast down. Having her head back would make it all but impossible not to look at him.
She pulled her shoulders back and rested her hands, palms upturned, on her thighs. The entire time, he’d been silent, but she was conscious of him standing over her.
“Even better than I could have hoped,” he said.
Lara took a breath to school her thoughts.
He allowed the time and distance to stretch. And she took her cue from him. Her heart beat faster than normal, and her breaths were shallow, but she forced herself to wait.
She heard him moving things around and the sound of something being dragged across the floor. The spanking bench, maybe? She was almost glad she couldn’t tell exactly what he was doing. Then she remembered what he’d said about fear. The images her imagination was supplying were probably much worse than anything he would actually do to her.
“Tell me what you’re thinking.” Though he’d spoken softly, the words seemed to reverberate.
“I’m trying not to.”
“And?”
“It’s working, but only a little. I’m wondering what you’re doing. Feeling a little apprehension, then I’m reminding myself that I have words I can use and that I’ve liked everything we’ve done. And some of those things I would have said I didn’t want to do.” She paused. ”There’s a tiny amount of curiosity mixed in, too.”
“Stand and come to me.”
She didn’t rise as elegantly as she would have liked. No doubt he intended for her to get plenty more practice. If he had his way, he’d have years to school her.
His eyebrows were furrowed. She’d noticed that he did that when he was intent or thoughtful. It unnerved her to realize he watched every single one of her moves.
She took a few steps and stopped in front of him, aware of their height difference, how much bigger he was.
He took the whip handle and put it beneath her chin. In response, she shuddered.
“I want to get you better acquainted with my single tail.”
Despite her intention to be calm, she looked at it. She wasn’t a fool. He’d only used it on her twice. One had been a tease. The second had been harsher. And she’d heard the way he cracked it. The thing was an extension of him, and he could wield it any way he chose. “I’d ask what you had in mind, but the answer may scare me.”
“I will promise you’ll like the experience. And I promise you’ll feel it. A sting, maybe a burn. If you’re lucky, you’ll have a few marks when we go to dinner.”
“Lucky?” she repeated, her voice coming out as a squeal.
“It’s my hope that you’ll learn to like my marks, savor them, even.”
“Again, as I keep telling you, Mr. Donovan, you have the wrong woman.”
“Do I? Is that why your breathing is so shallow?”
She glanced down, severing their gazes. He seemed to look too deeply into her, all the way to her heart, her mind.
He moved the hilt of the whip, tracing it down the column of her neck and pausing at the hollow of her throat.
This man, her future husband, made it impossible to hide. She reached up and held onto his wrists.
“I think, Ms. Bertrand, that you please me immensely.”
After she released her grip, he drew the handle lower, between her breasts, she pictured him tracing the same path with his cock. She shuddered, and her nipples hardened. As he ignited something that had been latent within her, intimacy was created. Connor made her feel as if she were the only one who mattered to him.
He made circles around her breasts then continued past her belly button, arrowing toward her pelvis.
For a moment, she forgot to breathe entirely.
He angled the hilt against her pussy, parting her labia, teasing her clit.
No matter what she said, her body wasn’t capable of lying to him. She was already moist.
Easily, he slid the handle back and forth, making her tingle.
“Tell me again how I have the wrong woman.”
She moaned as he increased the friction.
“That’s it.” He eased a tiny bit of the handle inside her.
“Oh, God.” She closed her eyes.
“Do you want it?”
She reached for his shoulders.
“Tell me,” he said, voice harsher.
“Yes… Please, Sir. Please.”
He drove her wild, fucking her with the handle, plunging it in and out, making her squirm, drawing it back out so he could play with her clit, talking to her, encouraging her.
She leaned into him, rising onto her toes in silent plea.
“Such heat. I can smell your arousal, little Lara.”
“Con-nor!”
His name emerged as two distinct syllables. The things he was doing to her became her entire world.
“Come for me, Lara. Do it
now.”
She was lost.
The orgasm crashed over her, and her legs lost the ability to hold her up. As always, he was there, offering support, wrapping her up.
When her brain function returned to normal, Lara realized she was clinging to him, holding on to fistfuls of his shirt.
He had her head cradled and a palm pressed against the small of her back.
“I’m not sure what happens to me,” she admitted.
“Connection,” he said. Then he smiled as he stroked her arm. “And I think that ends the conversation as to whether I have the right woman or not.”
She tried to pull away, but he only tightened his grip.
“Be easy.”
She exhaled.
“Relax.” His words were gentle with reassurance and patience. “Stop thinking.”
Slowly, she nodded.
He continued to offer his strength until she totally relaxed in his arms. She curled into his chest and uncurled her fists.
“Yeah. That’s it.”
She’d never had a man so in tune with her. The feeling amazed her.
“When you’re ready, go over to the bench,” he instructed.
Lara stayed where she was for a little longer then followed his directions. He’d placed it near a wall, probably to give himself ample room to swing the whip. The taller section faced her.
Cuffs dangled from either side of the metal frame, one set close to the floor, the other at the far side of the bench.
He came up behind her and laid the whip on the lower platform, where she could see it. Her pussy juices were still on the handle.
“When we were at your house and I was preparing to spank your pussy, I told you that you were being tied by my will.”
She turned her head to look at him.
“I wanted to make you feel more secure, to build trust. Mentally that can be more difficult than being restrained because you need to make a conscious effort to remain in place. When you’re tied, you’re free to struggle, to pull. There’s a certain freedom in it.”
“Sounds contradictory.” Everything about this journey was more complex than she might have imagined.
“Your right hand, please.”
In less than thirty seconds, he had both of her hands restrained to the far side of the bench, forcing her body into a small stretch. Even though she knew she couldn’t pull away, some sort of doubting instinct made her test them.