Living in Secret: Living In..., Book 3 Page 9

  But he wasn’t having any of that. “Where I want, how I want, whatever I want. Remember, Victoria? You’re here. Which means you made your choice.”

  For a minute she didn’t do anything. Then she shrugged, as if it didn’t matter to her one way or the other, and dropped to her knees on the red and blue Persian rug that ran the length of the hallway. “I didn’t think it would bother you,” she said, shifting around as if trying to get comfortable.

  “It did bother me,” he said, satisfied as he walked toward her. Finally, there she was. Exactly as he’d fantasized. “It bothered me a lot.”

  A frown appeared between her brows as he approached, uncertainty in the depths of her eyes. Clearly she hadn’t been expecting him to admit it. Well, good. He was sick of pretending he didn’t feel it and tonight he wasn’t going to.

  He stopped directly in front of her. “I told you not to be late. Seven sharp, not quarter past.”

  “It’s only fifteen minutes. I hardly—”

  He reached out, gripped her chin and tipped her head back. “I’ve been waiting for you all day, dirty girl. And I didn’t want to wait another fifteen minutes.”

  The long, graceful column of her throat moved, a flush rising to her cheeks as she stared up at him, the color exquisite in the deep olive of her skin. “I’m not a dirty girl.”

  “Yes, you are. Tonight you’re my dirty girl.” He traced her bottom lip with his thumb, a subtle reminder of the night before. “Now, tell me you’re sorry and I’ll let you suck my cock.”

  Her mouth opened a little, her eyes darkening, the brown deepening into black. “What if I’m not sorry?”

  “Then you don’t get to have it.”

  “I might not want it.”

  “Really.” He released her and reached down to the fly of his jeans. The desire inside him was desperate but he could control it. He wanted this slow, to tease her. To get the truth out of her once and for all. Slowly, he undid the button then took hold of the tab of his zipper.

  Her gaze had dropped to his hand, watching his movements. So he didn’t rush, dragging down the zipper, feeling the tight fabric part, seeing her mouth open a little more as it did so. Oh yeah, this was what he wanted, her as hungry for him as he was for her.

  “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice gone rough. Then he slid his hand down inside his boxers and gripped his cock, making sure she could see the outline through the fabric. “Say you’re sorry for being late, Victoria. And you can suck me off. Otherwise I’ll get myself off with my hand and you only get to watch.”

  She looked up at him for a second and their eyes met. And his stomach lurched.

  He felt like some part of himself had been stripped away and now she was looking at the man underneath. A man kept hidden for so long Connor had forgotten he was there.

  In that moment he knew she could break him. That the power had shifted and now she had it. And all she needed to do was call his bluff. Get up and leave. And if she did, he would break.

  He’d allowed himself to want. Too much and too badly. The one thing he could never, ever do…

  The moment lengthened, tension crawling through him.

  Pull away. Protect yourself.

  He should. He really should. And yet he didn’t move. Because the expression in her eyes had changed, as if a curtain had been drawn back from a room he’d always wanted to look inside of and now he could see in. There was trepidation there and wonder, and shock. And a desperation to match his own.

  She didn’t look away, letting him see everything. The other woman behind her cool, collected mask. The woman he’d finally met for the first time up in the bar the night before.

  Then she said hoarsely, “I’m sorry I was late, Connor.”

  And his stomach lurched again, a tension releasing, a wave of some strange emotion he couldn’t identify rolling through him. He pushed his fingers into the softness of her hair, clenching them tight, suddenly sick of the ache in his groin. Sick of teasing and sick of holding back.

  “Take off your coat,” he ordered.

  “But you—”

  “Don’t worry, you’ll get what you want. But I need something beautiful to look at.”

  Her hands lifted to the belt of her trench coat and he saw her fingers were shaking. The emotion sitting in his chest deepened. Fuck, yeah. He liked that she was trembling, that the force of this desire was affecting her as much as it was affecting him. Because he was pretty damn sure his hands would be trembling too if they weren’t already occupied.

  Victoria pulled her coat off and let it fall on the ground behind her. And Connor let himself look.

  His breath hissed, lust becoming more insistent.

  She wore the playsuit he’d bought her, along with the black panties and nothing else. And she was the most goddamn beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

  The only times they’d gotten naked with each other had been in the dark, those brief, passionless encounters where they’d made love. Or rather, had sex since love had never been part of the equation. And they’d never touched each other’s bodies purely for the pleasure of it, or even looked at each other. He’d made certain of that.

  But he looked now, his gaze following every line, every curve. She’d lost weight, he was pretty sure, and that made his heart tighten for reasons he didn’t want to dwell on. Nevertheless she still had the most gorgeous curves, breast and hip and thigh all gently rounded and eminently strokable. Her skin was deep olive and smooth, a legacy from some Polynesian ancestor, the color contrasting beautifully with the gold chains webbing her body. They glittered in the light, brushing against the hard tips of her nipples.

  “Fucking beautiful,” he murmured, making no attempt to hide his appreciation. “I knew it would look fantastic on you.”

  She blushed, but didn’t look away. “You promised me something.”

  “So I did.” He tugged on her hair, hearing her breathing catch. Interesting. “Getting impatient, dirty girl?”

  “N-no.”

  He smiled, but not because anything was funny. Because everything was desperate and he liked that. “Open your mouth then. Dirty girls who do what they’re told get rewards.”

  She obeyed without hesitation, her gaze on his.

  Connor jerked down his boxers, freeing himself. Then he gripped tight onto her hair and slowly eased his cock into her mouth.

  Wet heat engulfed him and he couldn’t stop the growl that escaped at the sight of her opening up to take him, red lips against his skin as she closed her mouth around him. Her eyes had gone completely black, glazed with hunger.

  “Jesus,” he whispered, the blood pumping so hard in his veins she’d probably be able to hear it too.

  Her tongue moved, stroking the underside of his shaft, and he bit out another rough curse. If he wasn’t careful this was probably going to end way too quickly.

  Pushing his other hand into her hair, he held her in place. “Stay still.” And then he flexed his hips, pulling out then pushing back in again, taking it slow because he knew she wasn’t used to this.

  Well, shit, neither are you.

  No, Christ, when was the last time he’d had a blowjob? Before they were married…

  He looked down at her, into her eyes. She was so familiar to him and yet he’d never had her here before. On her knees with her lips wrapped around his cock, wearing a net of chains showcasing full, beautiful breasts. And black panties barely covering her pussy. That were transparent and through which he could see silky black curls.

  Oh…Jesus…

  “That feels good,” he murmured, pleasure continuing to build inside him. “You like that? You like my cock in your mouth?”

  Her throat moved, her gaze never leaving his. She nodded.

  “Of course you do.” He tugged again on her hair, not missing the soft moan that escaped her. “Now touch me, dir
ty girl. Put your hands on me.”

  She lifted her hands immediately, as if she’d been waiting for the command all along. One warm palm settled on his abdomen, her touch sending ripples of fire through him. Then she reached for his cock, wrapping her fingers tightly around the base and holding on, drawing him even deeper into her mouth.

  “Oh…fuck…” This was more intense than he’d ever imagined. Watching her take him and the movement of her breasts as he thrust, the glitter of the chains. Hearing the slight panting sounds she made, the soft moans. Her hand on his stomach was so soft, her touch gentle.

  It was too much.

  He closed his eyes, the pleasure drawing into a tight, vicious knot.

  Victoria’s fingers flexed on his abdomen, her nails digging in, her fingers around his cock squeezing. Her mouth was so hot and she was doing things with her tongue, circling the head of his cock, sucking hungrily on him.

  “You dirty fucking girl,” Connor whispered, his voice hoarse, letting all the filthy things he’d wanted to say out. All the things he’d been keeping inside since he married her. “You beautiful little slut. I’m going to come and it’s all your fault.”

  He wanted to keep this going, wanted to keep fucking her beautiful mouth for as long as he could, but it had been too long and he was too damn hungry.

  The orgasm detonated inside him, a nova starburst burning along every single nerve ending he had. Setting him alight. He groaned aloud, his fingers tightening hard in her hair, his rhythm becoming rough and unfocused, his hips jerking as the pleasure uncoiled like a whip.

  His last coherent thought was thank God he had a whole night. Because he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to get able to get enough of this.

  Victoria rested her head against the heat of Connor’s stomach, her heart thundering, the pulse of desire inside her so insistent it was all she could do not to beg. Her scalp tingled from where he’d pulled her hair and the brush of those damn chains against her exquisitely sensitive nipples was enough to make her scream.

  You beautiful slut.

  Why did she find that so damn hot? Why did she find him calling her dirty so damn hot? Why was being on her knees, taking instructions and sucking him off so arousing she couldn’t speak?

  It didn’t make sense. And yet there had been a moment when it had. When she’d looked up into his eyes and saw how completely he wanted her. How desperate he was. Like he had been the night before. And it had all become beautifully clear.

  She could have walked away from him and his orders. Told him where to stick it. But she hadn’t wanted to. She wanted this. Desperation and heat and hunger, and all for her.

  She closed her eyes, relishing the thick, salty taste of him in her mouth. She hadn’t given a guy a blowjob since the night she’d first discovered sex, when Simon Curtis had wanted her to go down on him. She’d enjoyed it then, finding the whole experience new and exciting, amazed at her own feminine power. Simon had been into it too and she’d thought—stupid girl that she was—that his response had meant love. And maybe it had, at least for a little while. Until she’d told him she was pregnant and then he’d told her he didn’t care and didn’t want to see her again.

  Fingers moved in her hair, more tugging that sent little shockwaves of pleasure right through her.

  “Up,” Connor said, his voice all sexy and rough. “On your feet.”

  Reluctantly, she eased back from him and did as she was told, rising up from her knees to stand. He adjusted himself, pulling up his zipper unhurriedly, his gaze open and hungry as it swept over her.

  She shivered, her mouth dry, the ache between her thighs intensifying.

  God, he was hot. Normally he wore suits and that’s what she’d come to expect, but not tonight. He was in a pair of old jeans sitting low on his lean hips and a plain, black T-shirt. The knees of his jeans were worn and his feet were bare. A far cry from the polished prosecutor he was during the day. Had he ever worn casual clothing like this when they were together? He must have and yet she couldn’t remember it.

  His eyes glinted. “See something you like?”

  Oh hell. He knew what she wanted. He knew she was desperate. And that knowledge was exposing. Not concealing her feelings was a difficult habit to break and even now, when there was no hiding them, she felt uncertain. Vulnerable.

  In fact she hadn’t realized till now how vulnerable he actually made her feel.

  “Connor,” she began, not really knowing what she wanted to say.

  Yet he didn’t wait for her to finish. “Into the lounge. If you’re good, you might just get what you want.”

  “But—”

  His hands rested on her shoulders, turning her around. And then the warmth of his body was up against her back, fingers moving down to rest lightly on the bare skin of her hips. “It’s okay, Victoria.” His voice was quiet, his breath warm against her neck, near her ear. “It’s okay to want it.” Then he gave her a gentle push. “Go on. Walk ahead of me. I want to watch you.”

  Damn it. Did she really need his reassurance? After she’d had him shaking and at her mercy?

  Pulling herself together, she walked forward, the high red sandals that had seemed the obvious choice with the thing she was wearing, clicking on the wooden floorboards.

  No, she didn’t need it. So, she wanted him. Well, he’d wanted her and had let her see it, hadn’t hidden it. She’d gotten that from him and hell, she was going to keep it.

  The thought kept her going to the end of the hallway that opened up into a massive open plan lounge and dining room.

  She walked in and then stopped, overcome by a wave of familiarity.

  She remembered this room, with the long windows facing the garden. They’d spent so much money on buying the house and then getting an interior decorator in to renovate it. She’d wanted white because it was calming and restful, and Connor had agreed because he liked the minimalism of it.

  So their lounge was a symphony of white. White carpeted floor, white walls. Thick white curtains drawn over those windows. A long white leather couch and a glass coffee table. White armchairs. White dining table and dining chairs. The only things that weren’t white were the sleek, black banks of electronics Connor had insisted on—TV and stereo and some kind of house monitoring thing. Oh yes and the black-and-white art photos on the walls.

  She’d once loved this room. Especially the peace of it when she was by herself. When Connor wasn’t home and she could sit and work without his disturbing presence.

  He brushed past her now, walking soundlessly over to the glass liquor cabinet in one corner. He didn’t offer her a drink, pouring himself a tumbler of single malt whisky instead. How odd. She didn’t think he drank whisky.

  Grabbing the tumbler, he walked over to one of the white armchairs and sat down, long legs outstretched and slightly apart. “Sit down,” he said and pointed to the floor directly in front of him.

  She wanted to protest, say something about how she wasn’t a dog and he didn’t need to treat her like one. But he was looking at her like she was something good he wanted to eat and she couldn’t find it in herself to protest after all. Instead she walked toward him, watching how his gaze moved and shifted. From her mouth to her breasts, to her hips and then lower, down between her thighs, that restless blue flame in his eyes glowing deeper, darker.

  It’s okay to want…

  She found herself breathing hard as she finally came to a stop in front of him, standing between his spread legs. He looked up at her, his gaze searching. “Tell me what you want, Victoria.”

  A shock of surprise went through her. “What I want? I thought this was all about what you want?”

  “It is. I’m going to get off on hearing you say it.” He didn’t take his eyes off her as he lifted the tumbler and took a sip of whisky. “Go on. I want to hear.”

  What did she want?

&nbs
p; You know…

  Well, of course she knew.

  “You,” she said, proud of the fact that her voice didn’t shake. “I want you.”

  “But I already know that. Where and how do you want me?”

  “Why? Are you going to let me give you an order?”

  He didn’t say anything for a long moment, studying her. And she found herself studying him in return, as if they were fighters measuring each other up. “I might,” he said after a moment. “But not if you’re being blatantly disobedient.”

  Her breath caught, strange pleasure twisting inside her. “Disobedient?”

  “I asked you to sit.”

  “Why do you get off on telling me what to do?”

  “Why do you get off on being told what to do?” His eyes gleamed, a slight curve to his mouth.

  So damn sexy. Sitting there with his long, lean body stretched out on the chair, black hair still spiked up and damp from the shower he must have just had before she’d gotten here. His jeans were unbuttoned, a thin strip of skin showing between the waistband and his T-shirt. His flat, tanned stomach that had felt so hot beneath her hand as she’d sucked him off. Hard muscle and smooth skin…

  She was breathless again, shaky with the need to touch him. It was a good question. Why did she get off on him telling her what to do? What did she like so much about him being in control?

  So you never have to take the blame for liking it…

  The voice was a quiet whisper, sitting insistently in the back of her head. And maybe it was true. Maybe it was why she’d put on all the gold chains and nothing else. Why she’d fallen to her knees in the hallway. And even back up in the bar, with Raphael, she’d done all that in response to the challenge in Connor’s eyes. Pushing him to tell her what to do, pushing him to take all the blame from her. So she wouldn’t have to be responsible for anything that might happen…

  “Sit down,” he said, his tone quiet and steely.

  And she did, going to her knees before him. He leaned forward and reached out, gripping her chin in his fingers, their faces close, his lips millimeters from hers.