27

Marin had no idea why she did it. She wanted Donovan so much it was physically paining her. But her immediate instinct when he grabbed her was to fight back. Maybe it was because she didn’t like losing. Maybe it was because she was startled. Maybe it was because her body had its own ideas. Whatever it was, she thrashed in his grip and tried to break loose.

Donovan lost his hold for a second when the peacoat slipped off. He was probably as surprised as she was by her behavior, but he quickly got an arm around her again, pinning her to the wall. His breath came quick. “Sky color.”

She writhed in his hold, still trying to get free. Her body wanted to fight, but her mind held on to what was happening. “Green.”

She sensed his relief even if his hold on her didn’t ease. “You’re not going anywhere. I don’t even know why you bother trying. You can’t be a cocktease all night, let some other man put his hands on you, then hide from me and expect mercy.”

“Get off of me. You can take care of things yourself.”

“That’s not how this works. I catch you. I keep you. For whatever use I want. And I know just how I want to use you.” He let the hand he had on her waist slide lower, his body still pinning her against the wall. He rucked up her dress with a rough pull and then cupped her. All of that warm, wet welcome was evident. She could feel the shame coming on until he hissed out a breath. “Fuck.”

She loved that she’d thrown him off his game a little, that she’d surprised him. Suddenly, she wasn’t so ashamed at just how much this was working for her. And she wanted to play, too. “Lane really turned me on. I love blonds.”

The growl that came from him was full-on possessive and it sent a hot shiver through her. Two fingers plunged into her pussy without warning, rough and oh so sweet. Her heels came off the ground at the sudden sensation. “You’re not going to know how to spell the word blond once I’m done with you. Lift your hands and hold on to the rod.”

She gasped as he curled his fingers inside her but managed to eke out one word. “No.”

He cursed under his breath, but she got the sense that it was out of pleasure, not frustration. He hadn’t expected her to play along so much, to fight him. He moved his hand away from between her legs and she whimpered at the loss. He clamped one hand around the back of her neck, keeping her against the wall like a criminal getting ready for a pat down and then went about rustling around in the coats with his other.

After a few moments, he adjusted his hold and grabbed her wrists. He lifted her arms to the clothes rod and then wound something soft around her wrists, knotting it tight and securing her to the bar. She still had her back to him, but she guessed it was a scarf. He checked how tight it was and then released her. Now her arms were bound above her head. She gave it a test tug and realized she was secured for real. Her breaths came faster. Whatever he was going to do to her, he was going to do in the closet.

“You think you can fucking tell me no?” he said, his hands coming around to squeeze her breasts and vicious, seeking fingers finding her nipples.

When he pinched one nipple hard, need shot down through her all the way to her toes. She’d never been handled so roughly, but it was dialing everything up a notch, making it more intense, better. The urbane doctor was gone. This was Donovan unmasked. The Donovan in his and her private fantasies.

“Go to hell.” She wrenched out of the touch, which only made the pinch sting harder.

“I like hell. I’d fit in there.” She heard the jingling of keys and then the flip of something. She tried to turn her head, but when she did, all she caught was the glint of a silver blade.

Oh, shit. A snap of instinctual panic went through her as cool metal touched the spot between her shoulders. She gasped out his name.

But that didn’t stop him. It wasn’t her safe word. The switchblade ripped right through the fabric of her dress from shoulder to thighs. She let out a little cry as the dress gaped open in the back, the heat of him hitting her skin. With a few more quick flicks of the small blade, he divested of her straps and bra. Her clothes fell into a tattered heap at their feet.

“Now you can’t run.” The words were low and dark, coasting over her skin like a coarse caress. “You’re tied up, naked, and about to get fucked wearing only my boots. All while your co-workers sleep somewhere nearby never knowing what a very bad girl you are.”

The words should’ve sounded silly. No grown woman wanted to be called a bad girl, right? But goddamn, did everything inside her just light up like a fucking solar flare. She couldn’t even summon a faux protest at that. She ached so badly. It was like she hadn’t come in a hundred years. “Please.”

“Please what?” he goaded as he shifted behind her, belt clinking, clothes rustling.

It took everything she had to muster up the words, but the game only made this better. She wanted all of it. “Please let me go.”

“Wrong answer.” He nudged her legs wide with a firm tap from his shoe and then when she didn’t move quickly enough, he slapped her on the ass, quick and sharp.

She yelped from the shock and then groaned when he rubbed a hot palm over the sting.

“Mmm, that’s a better kind of blush. A woman who gets her ass spanked doesn’t have room to blush over other things.” He gave her another pop on the other cheek. And another until the sounds of the slaps were the only thing she heard, the burn the only thing she could feel.

She was going to die. Just sag against the bindings and die right there. How could the simplest, most basic move set her off like that? It wasn’t the sting, though that was tingly and nice. This wasn’t about pain. Or even the fact that it was a punishment of sorts. It was the intimacy of the act. The joy of it. That neither of them felt silly or weird or ridiculous. That slaps on skin and heated flesh and playing erotic games could just be fun. It didn’t have to be serious or a big deal. They were having a good time and could do whatever they wanted. She imagined him bending her over his lap and just turning everything rosy red and sensation zipped straight to her clit.

“Look at you leaning into it.” There was amusement in his voice, pleasure. “I knew you could be shameless, Rush.” He stopped the spanking and tucked his fingers between her legs from behind. Her knees almost gave out as his fingers rubbed her, spreading her arousal with purposely sloppy strokes. “Whenever you think about blushing, you think about how fucking dirty you are. You may have not done everything you want to do yet. But just give it time. Give us time. You are a slut who hasn’t lived up to her potential.”

She laughed at that, couldn’t help it. Her need was almost at a breaking point and it was making her giddy. “Fuck you, West.”

“Finally, she admits what she wants.” He pumped two fingers inside her, slow, slow, slow, driving her to the edge of madness. Then when she whimpered and writhed against him, he added a third, increasing the pressure tenfold. “Tell me you need me to fill you up. Tell me you want my cock right now.”

She pressed her forehead to the wall, bent at the waist, and openly begging for him with her body, but she wasn’t going to blink on the game. “I want you to let me go.”

“Oh, look,” he said snidely. “She thinks she has a choice. Cute.”

His hand moved up to her clit and then something much bigger than fingers nudged her entrance.

She clenched. Oh, God. Part of her had wondered if he’d actually go through with it. He’d seemed so beat up about taking her virginity over a desk. But apparently taking her the second time had no rules. Anxiety over the unknown welled up.

But he didn’t give her a chance to fully form those nerves. He plunged into her fast and hard. She cried out, expecting it to hurt like the first time, but of course it didn’t. Oh, fuck it didn’t. She was so primed and slick, and her body took him in like it’d been waiting for it for a decade. And the sensation. God. Had it felt like this the first time? It felt like everything in that moment. Full and hot and decadent. Her fingers gripped the clothes rod hard as the force of the thrust rocked her onto her toes.

“That’s right.” Donovan stroked over her clit, playing her like she was a instrument only he knew the music to as he pumped into her again, sinking to the hilt. “You fucking take it. I know that’s what you wanted. Nothing sweet for you, Rush. You want real.”

She closed her eyes, her vision blurring from the feel of it all and from that sound in his voice, that catch that said he was losing his mind, too. He wasn’t in control. He wasn’t the stoic therapist. He was right there with her, unsure how they got here but clearly damn happy that they had.

He gripped her hip with his other hand, hard enough to leave marks, and he fucked her. Not nicely, not neatly, not quietly. Their bodies slapped together, damp skin against damp skin, and he made these noises. God. They were the sexiest grunts she’d ever heard. Like he’d turned into a werewolf behind her, huffing and snarling.

And the feel of him inside her was almost enough to send her right over the top. This wasn’t her first time, but it felt like it in a lot of ways. She’d used her fingers, she’d used toys, and she had the memory of him. But none of that had been like this. Not this naked, raw sense of being joined with another person. His flesh, a part of him, was inside of her. The man who’d patiently walked her through the computer system at work was currently sheathing his cock in her . . . cunt. The filthy word filled in the blank easily, her mind going to this lovely unfiltered place where no words were off limits. This was fucking. She was fucking. They were fucking.

Was she conjugating verbs now? Shit.

Donovan angled deep, grinding against a particular spot and eliciting an altogether new sensation. Oh. Oh. A loud moan rattled through her and words tumbled out of her mouth.

It sounded like nonsense to her ears, but Donovan groaned in appreciation. “Fuck yes, I want your cunt. It’s all mine tonight. You have no idea what it does to me to hear you talk like that.”

Had she said the filthy stuff out loud? She figured she must’ve because Donovan redoubled his efforts on her clit and thrust high and hard in her. Her ears started to buzz and her breath wheezed out of her like her lungs had lost half their capacity.

“You’re so tight and hot around me. You’re clenching so hard.” He rolled her clit between his fingertips. “Fucking take what you want. Come around my cock.”

She didn’t have any choice at this point whether he commanded it or not. She was glazed with sweat, her thighs slick with arousal, and her body screaming for release. His cock filling her and his fingers pinching her clit were too much. Everything inside her seemed to explode at once. Her arms jerked above her, rattling the hangers, and she pushed up on her toes, trying both to grab the release and run from it. It felt scary big, almost like she wouldn’t be able to take it standing up.

Then it crashed over her in thick, drowning waves. She lost her breath, and her body arched as the force of it rocketed through her. More dirty words tumbled out of her. Prayers. They were dirty prayers. For Donovan to please, please, please. To yes, God, yes. To help her. That she was falling.

But he held her up and never broke stride as he rode her orgasm with her, his own breaths harsh and strained behind her. Then when she was cresting, flying in the pleasure, he started telling her how beautiful she was, how sexy, how perfect. That’s when he fell in with her. He sped up and buried deep, swelling inside her with steel heat, and his noises changed. Donovan falling apart. Then he was coming long and hot inside her, his sounds like balm to her zapped senses.

She closed her eyes, letting her head sag against the wall, and immersed herself in the sensation of him coming, of losing himself to her. He’d used a condom, but in her mind’s eye she let herself imagine his release mingling with hers, the evidence of their shared arousal painting her flesh as he slowly eased out of her.

When he’d fully slid out, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pressed his face to her shoulder. “Christ. That was . . . I . . . Damn . . .”

He was panting against her and obviously as blitzed as she was. That made her smile. Mr. Orgasm Whisperer had gone dumb. Not that she could say much more than, “I concur.”

He chuckled against her, his breath cool on her heated skin. “Two in two doctors agree.”

She smiled at that. “Empirically verified that it was great, then.”

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder then untied her from the clothes rod. He rubbed the tingles from her arms and turned her around. When she faced him, she was hit with the impact of him all over again. He’d pulled off the tie and his shirt was hanging open, chest glistening with sweat and slacks unbuttoned. But his eyes, oh, the eyes. He was looking at her like she was the most precious thing in the world. Like she was something to him.

She could get addicted to that look. To him.

No.

She couldn’t. Not if she had any good sense.

But before she could pull her gaze away, get herself back together, he kissed her.

And she forgot she was supposed to be careful.