Chill bumps raced up her body until they collided with her neck.
“You don’t have to stay here,” he said.
He let his hand wander down her abdomen, down to her pelvis until his fingertips brushed against the nest of curls between her legs.
“You could come home with me. I can give you what you want, Faith.”
His fingers slid into her wetness, and she cried out as a jolt of surprised pleasure echoed through her groin. She was tempted. So tempted to take the easy road. Gray was avoiding her. This man was not. Micah wanted her, seemed to understand what she wanted. And though her mind was plenty confused, her body didn’t seem to have any reservations about accepting Micah’s offer.
But Gray called to her. On more than just a sexual level. If it was only about sex, then yes, she could forget this crazy plan and go home with Micah right now. But it was more than that.
She was drawn to Gray on an emotional level she didn’t quite understand.
Micah’s finger rolled lazily around her clit. It felt good. Her body responded, but she couldn’t agree just for the physical release she’d find.
“I can’t,” she whispered. “Maybe Gray will toss me out of his apartment. Maybe he won’t want what I’m offering, and maybe he can’t give me what I need. But I have to find out.”
Micah bent and tugged her nipple into his mouth just as his fingers found her sweet spot. She was going to come. She rolled her hips, wanting, needing release from the impossible, edgy tension.
Just as she neared bursting, he pulled away, leaving her aching with need. Then he moved his lips to hers and kissed her softly.
“If he tosses you out of his apartment, he’s a damn fool.”
He touched her cheek with his finger as she sought to control her erratic breathing.
“I hope you find what it is you want,” he said. “But if you don’t, you know where to find me.”
Without a backward glance, he walked out of the bedroom.
CHAPTER 23
Gray left the jobsite, glad that the day was over and he could retreat to his apartment. Where there was no chance of seeing Faith.
She was driving him insane. Half the time he could smell her, and she wasn’t within a country mile of him. Images of her tied, over the whipping stool, ass invitingly in the air, haunted him.
Man, that position tempted him in so many ways. He could fuck her pussy or her ass. Both were open and accessible. He could spank her bare cheeks until they reddened with a rosy blush.
He could imagine a dozen scenarios that put him in control, but he wasn’t going to go there. He really didn’t want to be some woman’s damn Tinkertoy.
He pulled into his parking space and noted that both Faith and Micah were at home. He got out and headed toward his door, ready for a hot shower and a cold beer.
He let himself in and tossed the keys on the bar. As he headed down the hallway, the hairs at his nape stood on end. He put his hand on the back of his neck and rubbed as he entered the bedroom.
When he looked up and saw Faith lying on his bed, he damn near tripped over his feet. Naked. Tied to his bed. What the fuck?
She looked at him through half-lidded eyes. Her expression was a mixture of nervousness and arousal. At that moment, every single ounce of feeling was routed to his groin. His cock swelled against his jeans until he was certain he’d have a chafing problem tomorrow.
Finally, he got his feet in working order, and he stepped forward, shoving his hands into his pockets in an attempt to disguise the heavy bulge between his legs.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, then felt like a complete dumb-ass for asking what had to be the most obvious question of the year. Women didn’t just get naked and tie themselves to a man’s bed without a good idea of what they wanted out of the situation.
She wet her lips, the pink tip of her tongue darting out. He nearly groaned as he remembered that tongue on his dick, her sweet lips surrounding his flesh and how it felt when he came down her throat.
He pulled his hands from his pockets and flexed his fingers back and forth. He wanted to touch her. Taste her. Fuck her. More than anything, he wanted to peel his jeans off and dive into her, body and soul. Lose himself in her liquid heat.
He curled his fingers into his palms to control the shaking.
“Touch me,” she whispered. “Please.”
She stared imploringly at him, her bottom lip full and swollen as if she’d been biting it. It looked instead like someone had ravaged her mouth. It reminded him of how she’d looked after he’d fucked her mouth against the wall at the sex club. She looked utterly kissable.
He sank onto the bed beside her and leaned down to touch his lips against hers. She met his advance hungrily, open, accepting, inviting him further.
His tongue swept over hers, and he swallowed her sweet taste into his chest. He reached for her, his hand meeting the curve of her hip as he deepened his kiss. There was no breathing. His lungs screamed for oxygen, but he couldn’t tear himself away from her molten touch.
A touch, a caress, his fingers danced over her skin, up her body until he felt the gentle swell of her breast. He tore his mouth away from hers, and they both gasped for air. His mouth slanted over hers again, drinking deeply of her essence.
His lips slid to the corner of her mouth, and then he kissed a line down her jaw, his breaths coming in raspy, erratic bursts. The small fleshy earlobe tempted him. He sucked it between his teeth.
She moaned and twisted restlessly underneath him. He licked then swirled his tongue around the shell of her ear. He felt her shiver against him and saw the chill bumps rise and pucker her skin.
He chased a line of those goose bumps all the way down to her breasts. For a long moment, he simply stared at the coral peaks. Her nipples were perfect. Not too pointed. Soft, velvety and round. He wanted to taste them. Wanted it badly.
He licked one, letting his tongue rasp over the silky tip. She flinched, and he turned to the other, lapping at it like it was a delicious treat. Then he nipped, grazing the nub with his teeth, applying just enough pressure so she’d feel the slight bite of pain.
She made a sound of deep satisfaction, and he smiled against her flesh.
He caressed the soft skin of her belly then moved lower to tease and twist the wispy curls of her pussy. He delved into her folds, spreading the damp flesh with his fingers.
With his middle finger, he flicked and rolled her clit. Sweet sighs whispered from her lips. Delicate, like her. It was a sound bound to inspire male appreciation. He wanted to give her more pleasure just so he could listen to the appreciative noises she made.
He slid his finger lower, circling her entrance, marking a path around the outside, teasing, hinting at a promise not yet fulfilled.
She bucked against him, a moan of contentment bubbling from her chest. In response, he plunged his finger inside her, and she nearly came off the bed.
He groaned as her inner walls convulsed and squeezed his finger. They clasped wetly to him, so tight. Hot silk. He closed his eyes as he imagined it surrounding his cock.
“No, not yet,” she whimpered.
He opened his eyes to look at her. Her head was thrown back, her honey-blond hair spilling over the pillow. The muscles in her legs and groin trembled and spasmed. She was close to her orgasm. Why did she want to stop?
“I want,” she gasped. “I want you to spank me, like you did the other night. I want you to tie me up and take control. Then—”
He never let her finish. He stood up abruptly, putting at least a foot of distance between them. A surge of irritation belted him square in the face.
She looked at him in confusion, her eyes burning brightly with unfulfilled need. “What’s wrong?” she asked. “Why did you stop?”
He swore under his breath, kicking his ass from here to kingdom come for getting sucked into this game.
“Let me guess. You have an entire scenario worked out. First you want me to play around with you. Get you worked up a bit. Play master to your slave. Then you want me to spank your ass and fuck you senseless.”
She winced at his crudity, but he didn’t spare any guilt for being so bald. Slowly she nodded.
“Is that so bad?” she whispered. “I mean, if you don’t want me, just say so. I thought…I thought we connected, that we had chemistry.”
Chemistry? Hell, they had enough sexual energy to supply the entire greater Houston area with power.
He scrubbed a hand over his head and tried really hard to keep his gaze from the pointed tips of her breasts or lower it to the fine blond curls of her pussy. He could see a hint of her pink flesh between her spread legs, and it made him want to run his tongue over the folds, taste her.
“Faith, what you think you want…” He began as gently as he could. “I think you’re kidding yourself.”
Her cheeks stained red, and he could tell he angered her.
“Don’t patronize me,” she said. “Don’t tell me what it is I want or don’t want.”
He held up his hand. “Let me finish. Let me see if I have this right. You want to submit to a man. You want a man to dominate you. That’s what the trip to The House was all about and your allowing a complete stranger to spank your ass. In public.”
She blushed and looked away.
“Faith, look at me.”
She turned her gaze back to him.
“Am I right? You want to give up control to a man?”
Slowly she nodded.
“But that’s not what you’re doing,” he pointed out.
Her brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”
“As much as you say you want a man’s control, you cling to every vestige of control yourself.” He gestured down her body at her tied arms and legs. “You’ve set the scene just as you imagined. You’ve scripted the role, my role, and decided how everything plays out. You’ve got every detail worked out in your mind. You’re in complete control. No one else. I’m merely a puppet dangling on a string waiting on you to command me to command you and for you to tell me how to command you.”
Her mouth fell open in shock. Her pupils widened.
“I don’t work that way, Faith,” he said softly. “I told you what I wanted. A woman who’d be content to let me call the shots. Nothing about this scenario is me doing anything but allowing you to dictate how it is we get together.”
He reached down and untied her legs. Then he freed her hands. He pushed himself off the bed and looked down at her. “I’m going to take a shower. It’s been a long day.”
Faith watched him go, her entire world turned on its axis. Slowly, she swung her legs over the side of the bed and got up to collect her clothes. Not bothering with her bra or panties, she pulled on her jeans and shirt then sat back on the bed in stunned silence.
Her body ached from the constant state of arousal, first instigated by Micah and carried one step further by Gray. But she hadn’t found completion. But Gray’s words had definitely brought her down from her impending orgasm.
How could she not have seen it before? He was exactly right. She craved a man’s dominance. Wanted a man to take care of her, but she scripted every aspect of his performance. She had a detailed idea of how she wanted everything to go. Hell, if she had her preference, she’d provide him with a list of every single thing she wanted him to do to her.
She dropped her face into her hands. Oh God, what a moron she was. She hadn’t wanted a dominant man. Just the opposite. She’d been trolling for a mindless puppet.
But that wasn’t really what she wanted, was it? No, definitely not. Actually what she wanted was a man who didn’t have to be coached. Someone who could reach inside her and pull out her fantasies, her needs and provide for her. Emotionally and physically.
And even when searching for a mindless puppet, she’d been a dismal failure. She’d spent more time hinting around than she had coming right out and saying what it was she wanted. Was it any wonder she was a walking case of sexual frustration?
What a mess she’d made of things. She wanted to go home and have a good cry. She’d found the perfect man, a man who wanted the same things she did, but she’d gone about it completely wrong. Now he thought she was an idiot who didn’t have the first clue what she wanted and worse, thought she was playing stupid mind games.
She had obviously sat there beating herself up for longer than she thought because the next thing she knew, Gray put a hand on her shoulder.
She looked up to see him standing there, a towel around his waist.
“Are you okay?” he asked quietly.
She let her hands fall to her sides, and she looked away. “You were right. I didn’t even realize what I was doing, but you’re right. I was orchestrating the entire thing. It’s what I’ve done in all my relationships. Is it any wonder I’m so fucked up?”
He sat down beside her, holding the towel up with one hand. “You’re not fucked up, Faith. And there’s nothing wrong with you wanting to orchestrate your sexual fantasies. I merely suggested that what you think you want and what you really want might be two different things. Maybe you need to consider that you might be better off in a situation where you’re calling the shots and controlling the situation.”
