Sweet Obsession: Windy City Kink, Book 1 (10 page)

He left her mouth to brush his lips over her cheek, her jaw, her ear. Her trembling increased. “Jack.”

He barely heard her, partly because she’d whispered his name, partly because his heart was thundering in his ears. “Mmm. Sasha.”

Her head fell away from him and he dragged his tongue down the side of her neck, then opened his mouth on her skin there and sucked so gently. He handled her with utmost care, but couldn’t resist a soft bite where her neck met her shoulder. He pushed aside the neckline of the sweater and kissed the top of her shoulder, again breathing in the scent of her skin, all woman and warm.

To his delight, she lifted her free arm and curved her hand around the back of his head. “Oh my God.” She moaned. “Jack. Jack, we shouldn’t…”

He remembered her saying that, the night they’d had sex for the first time. Her first time ever. She’d been a virgin, but so damn hot and sexy. They’d been close to doing it so many times, and it had been getting harder and harder for them to resist. She’d said the words, because she knew she should. Because good girls didn’t do that when they were only sixteen. When he’d paused, met her eyes and asked her if she’d really wanted to stop, his heart had damn near exploded when she’d whispered, “No.”

And he sensed the same lack of conviction in her words now, the mixed message of her hand cupping his head while her lips said no. Her body responded to him, so soft against him, her breathing quick and shallow, her low pleasure noises telling him how much she liked his kisses and nibbles and licks.

She groaned and tensed against him. “Oh God, Jack. Stop. Really.”

He closed his eyes and sucked in air. She pushed away from him, a little tangled in the blanket around her hips. Seeing her face damn near had him reaching for her again. With pink cheeks, lust-glazed eyes and full, shiny lips, she looked so fucking sexy and irresistible. His hands itched to touch her again and he fought for control.

Jack closed his eyes and shoved a hand into his hair. His dick was throbbing and on fire, his balls so tight he couldn’t breathe. Hell. As much as he wanted her, wanted to rip her clothes off, turn her over his lap and feel her ass beneath his hands and then fuck her brains out, that was way too much, too soon.

“I’m sorry, Sasha,” he said quietly. “You make me lose my mind.”

She blinked up at him, her blue eyes hazy with desire, her lips plump and sexy as hell. He couldn’t help but study the swell of her breasts beneath the thin sweater. His palms itched to feel them, the full softness, the hard little nipples. He swallowed a groan.

She said nothing, and he had no idea what she was thinking. Clearly she was frustrated. So the hell was he.

Hot color rushed into her cheeks and she pushed herself up to sitting. “Well, I guess that answers my question,” she muttered. She swung her legs off his lap and went to stand. He grabbed her hips and pulled her back, this time to sit beside him.

“Wait.”

She yanked herself away from him and stood, taking a few steps from the couch. She tugged and straightened her sweater and ran her hands through her hair. “Never mind. I have to go.” She moved to the chair where he’d laid her jacket.

“Wait, Sasha,” he said again, making his tone firmer. She paused and half-turned to him. “I’m making a mess of this,” he admitted. He rubbed his face.

“No kidding,” she snorted, grabbing her jacket. She shoved her arms into the sleeves and flipped her hair out.

He rose too and closed the distance between them. “Don’t go. Please.”

“This is really not a good idea, Jack.” She looked around for her purse and briefcase, then made a beeline across the room to seize them.

Jack sighed. He spotted the check he’d written sitting on the dining room table and he grabbed it and followed her to the elevator. “Your check,” he said. “Don’t forget this.”

She turned, wide-eyed, her scarf hanging loose, and gaped at him. “Don’t forget it,” she repeated. “Oh for the love of goats.” She snatched it out of his hand and in one quick motion ripped it in half. She tossed the pieces to the floor. “There. Not forgotten.”

“Sasha! What the hell?”

She smacked the elevator door. “How the hell do I get out of here? Would you please call the elevator?” Then she found the keypad on the side and gave it a jab.

“Sasha, wait. Why the fuck did you rip that check up?”

“I get the feeling that money isn’t just for my professional services.”

“Jesus Christ.” Desperation rose up inside him. “Listen to me, Sasha.”

“I’m not listening to you. I’m walking out.”

“But the rooftop garden design—”

“Find someone else.”

“I don’t want anyone else.”

The elevator doors slid open and she stalked inside. He didn’t know what else to do but watch her leave.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He slammed a hand against the wall and bent his head. His body pulsed with lust and his chest ached. Another string of curses ran through his mind.

He walked over to the couch and picked up the blanket. A faint whiff of Sasha’s scent rose from it. The gas fireplace still burned, so he moved to shut it off, then sat on the couch holding the blanket.

Okay. He needed to regroup. He sure as hell wasn’t giving up.

His body still pulsing with need and adrenaline, he stood and walked down the hall to the last room on the left. The one he hadn’t shown Sasha.

The door was unlocked for now, although it had a lock on it, and he opened it, stepped in and flicked one of the light switches. There were several different lighting systems in the room, and the one he turned on illuminated a few pot lights, casting a muted glow into the room. He wandered across the carpeted floor to the sleek black cabinet against the far wall. He opened the doors and surveyed the ropes stored there, all carefully tied in an eight hank, different weights, different colors. He ran a hand over the silky hemp of one skein. His cock throbbed.

He reached into a lower cabinet for a bottle, picked up a length of rope and unwound it as he walked over to the wall of mirrors. He set the rope on the floor with the bottle and pulled his shirt over his head, then unzipped his jeans and lowered them along with his boxer briefs over his thighs. He stepped out of them, stripped socks off and dropped them, and pushed them aside with one bare foot. He regarded his reflection, the dim lighting only highlighting parts of his body, one shoulder, one pec, one hip, gleaming off the top of his dark hair. His cock thrust out and upward aggressively, and he gave it a stroke.

He sat on the carpet and picked up the rope. Alternating between looking down and watching himself in the mirror, he wound the rope around his balls at the base. Heat rushed through his body and his dick hardened even more. Fuck, that was good. He gave the rope a gentle, practiced tug, tightening it, intensifying the sensation. Edgy pleasure whipped through him. Then he snapped open the bottle of lube and squeezed some into his hand.

He stroked the silky liquid the length of his cock, circling it, covering it with the emollient, letting tingles and pleasure build. With one more pull on the rope, he sucked in air as fire flashed through his balls and spread heat throughout his body. The sensation of his hand on his lubricious cock intensified.

He stroked his balls, displayed so flagrantly, smooth and swollen and dusky-colored, pumped his cock with his fist, dark waves of pleasure washing over him. Every nerve ending sensitized, he rubbed a hand over his chest, watching himself in the mirror with a focused intensity.

He pictured Sasha’s body, naked and beautiful, imagined himself wrapping and knotting the rope around her. The artistry of it. The sensuality of it. The creative energy, the mental, emotional and sensual challenge…he loved it all. Caressing her ribs, her stomach, her hips, stroking her cheek, lightly touching her nipples…every sensitive area of her body that was his for the taking with her bound and unable to move. But most of all, the trust she would put in him to allow him to do that.

Would he ever have that from Sasha again? Her trust in him had been shattered all those years ago, when they’d both been young and eager and goddamn clueless about what they were doing.

He’d spent years learning and practicing. It was who he was.

Pressure built inside him and peaked. A spasm of ecstasy ripped through him as he climaxed, and he released a long, low groan. His body went tight and hot, and scalding liquid spilled from his cock, running over his hand, adding to the slippery friction. Gulping for air, he looked at his face, his cheeks flushed, mouth open, eyes glittering.

God, he just wanted Sasha, wanted to tie her up and set her free, contradictory as that sounded. She might not understand it, but he could teach her. But first he’d have to gain her trust, and he clearly had a long way to go on that front.

Monday morning Jack had a meeting with the project team working on developing a new payment data encryption product, and another meeting with Bryand Hotels. It was noon before he was free, and he left the office tower and drove to West Jackson Boulevard. He parked on the street around the corner from the small building that housed Sasha Bandel Designs. When he walked in, a young woman sat behind a reception counter, typing away on a computer keyboard. She peered at him through stylish rectangular pink glasses that matched the pink streaks in her black hair. “Hello,” she said with a smile, and a faintly appreciative look in her eyes. “Can I help you?”

“I need to see Sasha.”

“Can I tell her who’s here?” She rose from her desk.

“No.”

She paused and blinked at him. “Uh…”

“Is that her office?” He moved around the short counter. The woman took a step toward him, frowning. He smiled at her. “It’s okay, we’re old friends.” He brushed past her and opened the office door.

“Wait—”

Sasha also sat at a computer, perpendicular to the door. She was just reaching for a big bag of Skittles sitting open on her desk. Her head turned as the door opened. Her jaw dropped and her eyes widened. “Jack. What are you doing?”

“I’m here on business,” he said. He gave the other woman another warm smile. “Thanks for your help.” And then he shut the door.

“Hey—”

Sasha rolled her eyes. “Here we go again.” She pushed away from her desk, crossed her legs and folded her arms over her chest. He couldn’t help but notice that she wore spiky-heeled black boots that were sexy as fuck.

He’d been hard pressed to stop thinking about her ever since she’d walked out of his place on Saturday. Seeing her again had been remarkable. She was beautiful and smart and sexy, sweet and funny. He wanted her as much as he ever had, despite the years that had separated them. If he’d had any doubts about that, being with her again, kissing her and touching her again, had brought all that blazing heat roaring back to life inside him, an unrelenting need for her and what she could give him. And what he could give her.

His determination renewed, he was here to try again.

He laid a check on her desk. “Here.”

She barely glanced at it. “I’m not working for you. Not if it involves…other things.”

He laughed. “Other things. Right.”

She eyed him unsmilingly.

“I told you, Sasha. That was completely separate.” He shook his head. “Why’d you rip up that check?”

Her eyes dropped. “I was…angry. Embarrassed.”

“Embarrassed?” He walked toward her and dropped to a crouch in front of her chair. He set his hands on the arm rests. “Why?”

“Because I was so…easy.” She rubbed her upper arms, her blue eyes clouding, her bottom lip going soft and pouty. He wanted to kiss her. And he wanted to laugh.

“If you were easy, things would have gone a lot farther,” he said. “Easy.” He snorted. “What the hell kind of word is that, anyway? We’re not in high school anymore. There’s nothing wrong with sex.”

“I know that! I just meant…oh never mind.”

He sighed. “I want to talk to you. But I don’t want to scare you.”

“You don’t scare me.”

He smiled faintly. “Could we go somewhere and have lunch and talk?”

She hesitated. Her gaze roamed over his face. Her lips tightened and then relaxed. “I guess so.”

Not an enthusiastic response, but it was positive at least. He stood to allow her to do the same. She reached for the computer mouse and clicked around a few times, apparently saving something she was working on. Then she picked up her purse from a chair in the corner of the room.

He looked around with interest, surveying her space. Framed photographs of homes with lush lawns, stunning patios and luxurious plantings of flowers and greenery hung on the walls, along with some framed certificates. The décor was simple with black office furniture, white walls, and industrial gray carpet. Sun filtered through the venetian blinds on a small window and illuminated the leaves of some large tropical plants in silver metallic pots. A large table along one wall held blueprints, sketches, books and other papers.

“There’s a little diner down the street,” she said.

“No. We’ll go somewhere else. I’m driving.”

“I don’t have that much time.” They passed through the outer office. “I’m busy, you know. I’m going for lunch, Flo.”