Dillon's Claim (4 page)

That got his attention. “Letting
go as in...how?”

She narrowed her eyes. “Letting.
Go.”
Read between the lines, you arrogant jerk.

His frown deepened. “You mean
you can’t come?”

God. Her face was so hot it
burned. She was thankful for the darkness. “Right. Now take your hands off me.”

“No.” He tipped her chin up
with a firm hand. “Is that what all this was about? You keep pushing me away because
you’re embarrassed?
That’s
all that’s bothering you?”

All?
“No,” she snapped.
“
You’re
bothering me.” Him, and the way he made her body go haywire just
by looking at her.

His expression softened, his
hands gentling as he stroked her hair, her spine. “I’ll make you come,
sweetness. Don’t you worry about that.”

The absolute confidence in
that honeyed voice threatened to make her knees weak. No doubt he knew all
sorts of ways to satisfy a woman. She shot him a nasty glare. Her physical
inability to reach orgasm with a partner was only a symptom of the real problem.

He claimed he wanted to make
it better, but it wouldn’t. Having sex with him would make her insecurity a
thousand times worse. The kind of sex he had in mind wasn’t for the emotionally
vulnerable. Giving him that sort of control, allowing him to strip away layer
upon layer of doubt and self-consciousness, would leave her heart wide open and
defenseless.

The man tempted her body mercilessly,
even in her sleep. She was the proverbial moth lured by the flame, and if she
got close enough to experience its heat, she knew she’d let it consume her. At
the end of the weekend, her body might be satisfied, but there’d be nothing
left of her heart except ash. And she’d have no one to blame but herself. Flings
didn’t interest her, let alone one that would leave her whimpering on a
psychiatrist’s couch afterward.

“I promise it’ll be good.” The
warm hand on her lower back drifted downward, his long fingers stealing
underneath the hem of her shirt to stroke her skin in tantalizing little
circles. She caught her breath as he settled his lips on hers. Her whole body
cried out in need. She wanted his mouth on her naked flesh, hands holding her
in place as he licked and kissed her all over, easing the ache in her nipples
and the emptiness between her thighs. She wanted to experience firsthand the
wicked things she’d heard from Shay about his kinky sexual preferences.

She wanted to let him seduce
her. Dominate her. Tie her up and make her helpless, then use all his
considerable expertise to break her free from the sexual prison she existed in.
She’d fantasized about that. Had woken up in a sweat on the verge of a climax
more times than she could count from vivid dreams about it. But she knew her
body. No matter how aroused she got, no matter how close to orgasm she got, something
always held her back when she was with a partner. Sometimes even when she was
alone.

When he bent to kiss her
again, she jerked her head back. “Stop.”

Undeterred, he kissed the
corner of her mouth, his warm lips lingering there. “I’ll take care of you.”

Oh, he’d certainly try. No
doubt she’d love every second of it, too, even if she couldn’t climax. “Uh-huh.
And then you’ll have yet another notch in your bedpost come Monday morning,
right?”

He straightened and stared
down at her, eyes chilling as his mouth tightened. “It’s not like that.”

Yes, it was. There was no
future for them. Just this torturous sexual need between them. Once it was
satisfied, he’d forget all about her and move on to his next willing victim
with even more swagger in his step, leaving her raw.

With a lump in her throat, she
twisted her face away. “I need to go back now.”

****

The bitter, almost fearful
expression on her face was like a sucker punch to the gut. Dillon didn’t
understand where all this was coming from. Did she really believe she meant so
little to him? That he could fuck her once like it meant nothing more than
scratching an itch and be done with her? She sure seemed convinced of that.
Shit, no wonder she’d taken off without a word last year. What had he ever done
to give her such a low opinion of him? Male pride aside, this was too important
to walk away from.
She
was too important.

“Hey.” When she refused to
look at him, he captured her chin in one hand and turned her face, waiting
until she met his gaze. Keeping his grip gentle, he feathered his thumb across
the stubborn line of her jaw. “I would never hurt you. I want to take care of
you.” So much he ached for it.

“Why?” She hurled it at him
like an accusation.

He frowned.
Why?
“Because
I care about you.” She had to know that. How could she not know that after all
the time they’d spent together in the past?

The annoyance on her face
melted into shock, then something softer. A vulnerability that tugged at him.
She didn’t respond, only stared into his eyes as though gauging his sincerity. Like
his answer was the last thing she’d expected him to say and she didn’t quite
believe it.

Dillon bit back a sigh and
curbed the impatience riding him. Holding her this close, smelling her sweet
fragrance, was killing him with the need to stake his claim. He still wanted
her, always had.

For months, he’d had to
content himself with dreaming about her, fantasizing about what it would feel
like to hold her, make love to her, while he jacked off alone in his bed. Having
her in his arms again was a sweet torture. His cock throbbed painfully against
his fly. Words had never been his strong point. Maybe he’d be better off
showing her what he meant.

Without giving her a chance to
protest, he took her face in his hands and kissed her again. Slowly. Softly
enough that she gasped and leaned into him, hungry for more. Melting for him,
just like she had all those months before. Her sensual reaction made every inch
of him hard.

Wrapping his arms around her
back and holding her with enough force to underscore the point that he was in charge,
he felt the answering tremor that ripped through her. The telltale reaction eased
something inside him and made his heart beat faster.

She wanted this. Wanted
him
.
Her interest and curiosity about exploring her submissive side were still
there, though more subdued than it had been a year ago. She didn’t have to say
it aloud; he knew what she wanted and would love nothing more than to give it
to her. He needed to be the one to unlock the sensual woman inside of her.

He didn’t want her to go
looking elsewhere for someone to experiment with and hook up with some jackass who
didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

The thought of her going to
another man to try and meet her needs made him crazy. He wanted to reveal all
the passion he sensed simmering inside her, to give her exactly what she needed
and prove she was safe in his arms. He wanted to fulfill every need locked away
within her luscious, curvy body, sexual and otherwise. But how did he convince
her of that?

“God, Charissa,” he groaned,
sliding one hand around to cradle the curve of her breast in his palm. It was
so soft, and its hard nipple pressed eagerly against his palm. Every cell in
his body demanded he push her, keep seducing her until she gave in to what they
both needed. Whatever was holding her back—uncertainty, self-consciousness—he
could help her get past it if she gave him a chance.

Despite her initial
reluctance, she made a mewling sound and inched closer, arching her back slightly
to press her breast harder into his hand. Dillon cupped the full mound and
circled his palm, dragging it over the straining nipple. She gasped into his
mouth and rubbed against him. A primal growl locked in his throat.

Then, inexplicably, she broke
the kiss and yanked away like he’d burned her.

He barely refrained from
reaching for her. “What’s wrong?”

She shook her head, covered
her face with one hand. “I shouldn’t have done that.” Her hand dropped,
revealing the turmoil in her eyes. All traces of the warm, willing woman she’d
been just a moment ago were gone. “This was my fault,” she continued, backing
up a step as she shook her head. “I shouldn’t have come out here alone with
you.”

Ah, Christ.
“Stop.”

She watched him warily. As if
she half expected him to attack her.

“What just happened?”

“Nothing. I just don’t enjoy
being on the receiving end of a power trip.”

Power trip? The frustration
eating at him morphed into anger, surging quick and hot through his veins. He
stalked over to stand right in front of her, daring her with his eyes to look
away. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t want to be
controlled,” she snapped. Her eyes flashed blue fire at him.

“No, but you want someone to
take your control away in bed.” She’d told him about that fantasy once, months
ago. The need to fulfill it had eaten him alive ever since. It surprised him
that she couldn’t reach orgasm, but it didn’t worry him. If anything, it made
him want to prove to her how wrong she was about her body. He knew without a
doubt he could get her off. Because he’d damn well do whatever it took to make
it happen.

Charissa stared at him, her
pink tongue darting out to trail across her lower lip, as though she could
still taste him. But she didn’t deny his words.

Damn, she was driving him
insane. Soft and pliant in his arms one moment, then distant and untouchable
the next. The constant contradiction was tying him in knots. Trying to
understand why she was so afraid of being with him, he tamped down his
impatience and softened his tone. “What happened, Charissa?” When she looked
away and didn’t answer, a cold knot of suspicion formed in his gut.
Christ.
“Did someone hurt you that way? Is that why you—”

“I need to get back to my
cabin,” she said in a clipped voice, avoiding his gaze. “Can you just take me
back now?”

The knot pulled tighter, until
it hurt to breathe. Jesus, the thought of anyone hurting her was bad enough,
but if they’d done it during sex while she was tied up and helpless... It made
him want to hunt down the asshole and rip into him.

Searching her hardened
expression for a moment, he finally nodded. “All right. Come on.”

On the silent walk back, he
made a promise to himself. Before she left the ranch, he had to win her trust
and show her the true beauty of what gentle D/s play could be. And that meant
he only had two days left to make that happen.

Chapter Three

The next evening, Charissa laughed
out loud at Bridgette’s expression when a female staff member brought out the
huge penis-shaped cake and set it on the long center table in front of her.
Seated amongst the blown-up condom balloons and wearing a tacky tiara, the
bride-to-be let out a whoop and rubbed her hands together in gleeful
anticipation.

“I’d say that’s too much of a
mouthful even for you, babe,” Charissa called out.

Bridgette shot her a sly look.
“Don’t bet on it.” The other women snickered.

“She’s in her element now.”
Shay chuckled, obviously enjoying the show.

“She certainly is,” Jessica
said in amusement. The curly-haired brunette was quiet, but she seemed like a
sweetheart.

“Y’all going dancing after
this?” Charissa asked.

“You know it,” Shay replied, casting
a longing look at Dustin, who stood in the corner watching her.

Charissa glanced at Jessica. “What
about you?”

She swallowed a sip of wine
and smiled. “Haven’t made up my mind yet.”

“I heard Deke’s going,” Shay
put in with a suggestive wiggle of her brows. “With Dusty and maybe Dane, too.”

But not Dillon, Charissa
thought. Too serious, responsible Dillon. While everyone was out having a good
time, he’d be back here working. Didn’t the man ever take a night off?

It should have eased her mind
to know she’d be safe from him for the night, but it didn’t. Though she’d
successfully avoided him all day, hanging with the other women until dinner, he’d
finally made an appearance halfway through the surf-n-turf meal. He’d stood
silently by the far door of the lodge, surveying everything. Master of his
domain, his presence emitting a palpable masculine energy that made people
notice him.

When he’d turned those blue
eyes on her and met her gaze from across the room, her appetite had completely
disappeared under the rush of heat that suffused her body. The sexual tension
inside her had ramped up so high she was certain everyone else in the room had
to feel it.

Then he’d broken eye contact
and left without a word. Leaving her stunned by the disappointment she felt. They’d
been friends, and now things were so awkward between them he didn’t even want
to approach her. She hated that most of all because she cared about him,
admired him. He was serious and dependable, loyal and protective. She loved all
those things about him.