Author: Roni Loren
And hell if she didn’t want anything more in that moment.
She curled her fingers into his T-shirt as he pressed her against the front of the car, the residual heat from the engine warming her back. His hands traced up her waist, over her rib cage, and then cupped her breasts. She tilted her head back, her moan chasing a clap of thunder.
His forefingers glided up and hooked her spaghetti straps, then yanked them down along with the top of dress and the cups of her strapless bra. Her breasts tumbled out, the nipples already tight and needy when they hit the night air. She gasped as his hot breath slid along her bared skin. “Someone could see us.”
“Yep.” He circled an areola with his fingertip, the touch sending electric sparks straight to her center. “And I bet you’re dripping just thinking about it.”
He pinched the nipple between his thumb and forefinger hard enough for her to writhe. “Shit.”
He stared down at her. “You’ve convinced yourself you’re a good girl. The social worker in the conservative suits who teaches women about empowerment. But underneath all that, good doesn’t get you off, does it?”
She closed her eyes, unable to hold his probing stare.
“Lie down.” He grabbed her waist and lifted her to sit on the hood, then pushed her shoulders until she was lying down, her back heating against the warm metal. He smoothed his hands up the outside of her thighs and slowly pushed the hem of her clingy dress up to her hips, revealing her panties.
The sky roared again, and rain began to hit her exposed skin in fat droplets, cool kisses against her breasts and face. Reid grabbed the edge of her underwear and yanked, the thin material ripping immediately. “Let’s see how right I am, shall we?”
She squirmed in anticipation of his touch, and he planted a palm against her pelvis, securing her to the hood. His free hand traveled up her inner thigh until his fingers found her wet heat. Losing her last grip on control, she mewled at the contact.
He let out a low, satisfied groan. “It’s beautiful how wet you get for me, sugar. How badly you want me to fuck you.”
She widened her legs, inviting him, begging him. She’d deal with what this all meant later. Right now she needed him inside her. Two fingers surrounded her clit and massaged. She pressed the back of her head into the hood, her breath rapid.
“Are you scared, sugar?” he asked, a hint of gentleness entering his tone.
The answer was automatic. “No.”
“Good,” he soothed. “Because I would never hurt you, Brynn. You’re safe with me. I’ll never push you further than I know you can go.”
Tears mixed with the rain that splashed onto her cheeks, the truth of his words resonating over her. “I know.”
“Thank you,” he said, the relief in his voice evident. “Now come for me, sugar.”
He slid two fingers inside her throbbing channel and kept a thumb against her hot button, working her with swift confidence. Thunder rumbled in the sky, matching the lightning flashing through her veins. She squirmed against the car, but he gave her no reprieve. One hand remained splayed over her navel, the other against her pussy. No time to think or worry, just feel. Within seconds, every nerve in her body coiled into a tense, yearning mass, bringing her focus to that single, unbearably beautiful ache in her core—that exquisite moment right before release.
“Let go, love. Let it all go.”
On his command, her body tipped over the edge of control, ripping a primal groan from her chest. Her body clamped down on his fingers, and her pelvis arched against his hand. “Oh, God. Reid!”
“That’s right, baby. I’m right here.”
His words both soothed and heightened her senses as she crested the wave of orgasm, his skillful touch wringing out every ounce of pleasure as the rain continued to pound against her.
When the contractions finally quieted, he eased his fingers from her and draped his chest over her form, shielding her from the now full-fledged thunderstorm. He laid a soft kiss against her brow. “Good night, sugar.”
Her languid muscles stiffened beneath him. “Where are you going? I thought we—”
“This is as far as I’m taking you tonight. I won’t go any further until you tell me what you want. Who you want.”
His clear blue eyes stared into hers, and she knew he wasn’t asking what and who she wanted in this moment. But for every moment. Her voice came out in a choked whisper. “Reid.”
“Shh,” he said, standing up and easing her to her feet. “You don’t have to decide anything tonight.”
Rivulets of water dripped off his jawline, and his black T-shirt clung to every line of muscle as he helped her set her dress to rights. Unable to resist touching him, she pushed the wet hair off his forehead. “You’re soaked.”
A hint of a smile played around the corner of his mouth, and he nodded at her saturated dress. “Said the pot to the kettle.”
She grabbed the remaining strap of her dress and slid it over her shoulder. “You’re not so good at giving up, are you?”
“I told you a long time ago it takes me a while to get a point.” He shoved his hands in his pockets and cocked his head toward the club. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get you to dry land.”
She stepped to his side and offered him her hand. Without a word, he threaded his fingers with hers and they walked back to the club, only the sound of the pattering rain between them.
TWENTY-FIVE
All weekend. No phone call. No visit. And then today, she’d called in sick for work.
He’d blown it.
Reid slammed his shower door shut with his foot, then kicked it for final measure. “Fuck.”
He’d thought he’d broken through, thought he’d reminded Brynn how good they were together. But apparently his take-no-prisoners seduction had backfired. He’d given her the full face of his dominance, taken away her safe word option, tried to show her that what they had was stronger than the darkness Davis left behind. But apparently it wasn’t enough.
He scrubbed the towel through his damp hair, and then wrapped it around his waist. Maybe he had pushed too hard. Maybe he should’ve taken the slow and gentle approach, shown her that he was capable of being just as tender with her as he was tough.
He reached for a fresh bandage for his shoulder and all of his supplies toppled off the edge of the sink and onto the floor. He let another string of choice words fly as the bottle of rubbing alcohol landed on its side and sent the strong-smelling liquid flooding over his tile.
Was everything going to fight him? With a sigh, he got to his knees and cleaned up the mess. Great, now his bathroom was going to smell like the hospital ward he wanted to forget. After tossing the soiled towel in the hamper, he finished bandaging his shoulder, and finally headed into the bedroom.
But he only had one foot on the carpet before he ground to a halt.
Sitting in the middle of his bed with her legs tucked under her, was Brynn. Naked, save for the red necktie fastened over her eyes and the small, flat box she held in her hands.
She gave a hesitant smile, apparently sensing his presence. “You all right? Sounded like a Quentin Tarantino movie in there.”
The longing that assaulted him sucked all the air from the room and almost brought him to his knees. But he didn’t dare move. “Brynn, what are you doing?”
“Giving you my answer.”
The golden lamplight of the room gilded every curve of her nudity, making her appear both goddess-like and vulnerably human all at the same time. He gripped the edge of the doorframe. The urge to touch her, hold her… claim her overwhelming him. But the soft glow couldn’t conceal the faint pink of the healing whip marks—a glaring reminder of the deeper, more pervasive scars that lay beneath the surface.
“Oh, sugar.” He walked to the bed, sat next to her, and untied the blindfold, barely resisting the instinct to pull her into his lap and cradle her. “You don’t have to do it this way. I love you. I only want another chance. I don’t need you to push yourself into this part before you’re ready.”
She blinked a few times, adjusting to the light, then held out the box. “I am ready.”
He took the gift from her, her words not lining up in his head. “I don’t understand.”
She gave him a rueful smile. “You were right about what you said in the hospital. I’m always giving you lectures about being true to who you are. That very first night when we made love all those years ago, I told you I wouldn’t be with you if you were going to deny your nature. And then I spent the next ten years denying mine.”
His heart seemed to pause mid-beat, and his fingers tightened around the box.
“Ever since the rape, I’ve tried to block the submissive part of myself. Not only because of the fear, but because of what I thought it said about me. Davis told me that night that I’d better get used to what he was doing because I was a born whore. That no decent woman would enjoy a man tying her up and hitting her.” She looked down at her hands. “And part of me knew he was trying to be cruel, to humiliate me, but another part of me believed him.”
His jaw clenched. “That fucking bastard.”
The corner of her mouth twitched. “My career is teaching women to value themselves, to take pride in who they are, and to live the life they want. I thought what that meant for me was striving for some idealistic image I created in my head when I was a kid. But it’s not. I’m proud of the person I’ve become. I’m good at what I do, have great friends, and have made a nice life for myself.”
He smiled and pushed a wisp of hair from her face.
She lifted her eyes to him. “But I’m also a girl who gets all wobbly-kneed when her man demands to fuck her in a parking lot in the storming rain. And I’m not going to be ashamed of that either.”
Her words and the memory it brought forth jolted through his nervous system like a shot of adrenaline. His cock flexed beneath the towel.
“I’m done worrying about what other people think. And I’m done letting what Davis did define me.”
He glanced down at her scars. “And the panic attacks, the flashbacks?”
She stared at him a moment, a small crease forming between her brows. “I think what scared me the most was losing control—being hurt again. But I realized the other night when I went to you without a safe word that submission is not about loss of control, it’s about trust. And I trust you.” She took a deep breath, but her gaze didn’t waver from his. “I love you. Always have.”
He closed his eyes for a moment, absorbing her words, letting the fear that had gripped his insides for the last few weeks melt away. She loved him back. Thank you, God. As long as he had that, everything else could be worked out.
He reached out and traced one of the scars that striped her sternum, the gentle caress making goose bumps rise on her pale skin. “I love you, too, sugar. More than anything.”
“Thank you for being so hardheaded and not giving up on me,” she said, her voice catching a bit and her green eyes going shiny. “Now, open that damn box before I get all weepy.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He didn’t want her to cry—the moment was too sweet to mar with tears—so he pulled the ribbon on the box and lifted the lid. Inside, a sterling silver circle, its only adornment a simple O-ring hanging from it.
To the rest of the world, a pretty necklace.
To him—everything.
A wide grin spread across his face, the joy within him so strong, he was sure he could bleed sunshine.
She put her hands out to him, wrists up, just as she had that first night they’d made love. “Make me yours, Reid Jamison.”
Brynn shivered as Reid’s heated gaze caressed her naked form, heightening her awareness of every lonely inch between them. He lifted her wrists to his mouth and kissed each one. “I think it may take more than a collar for me to stake my claim.”
