Falling Under You: A Fixed Trilogy Novella (1001 Dark Nights) (7 page)

I nodded, biting my lip to prevent any unwanted speech from slipping out of my mouth.

“Good girl.”

God, if he just spent the rest of the night expressing his approval with me, I was pretty certain that it would be the best sex I’d had in a long time. I loved hearing it, loved hearing him praise me in that tone of voice that said he was genuinely pleased. Loved it so much that it made me confident enough to stand proudly as he stripped off my bra and panties.

He didn’t say anything more when I was naked in front of him, but the crotch of his jeans bulged, letting me know he liked what he saw. Without words, he led me to the living room to stand beneath the hook in the ceiling. On the couch lay two silk scarves and a set of leather handcuffs with a metal link chain between them.

“Hands, please,” he said, and I held them out for him. He wrapped a cuff around one wrist and tightened it until it was snug then repeated it on the other wrist. Then he fastened the clasp on the end of the chain hanging from the ceiling to a link in the middle of the chain on my cuffs so my hands were stretched and suspended above my head.

He looked me over, seemingly pleased with my appearance. Then he pulled off his T-shirt and tossed it aside before grabbing one of the scarves off the couch.

I was tempted to remark that, in his faded jeans and nothing else, he looked quite like the hero from that one book—the book everyone had read—but the scarf was of more interest. “What’s that for?”

He glowered. “This one’s to blindfold you, but the other is in case I need to keep you quiet.” He moved to stand right in front of me, so close that his chest brushed across my nipples. “I’ve been so looking forward to touching every part of you, Norma,” he whispered, “and I know you could love it too. But I promise it will be so much better if you’re silent. Just be a good girl and let yourself feel, okay?”

I let out a long breath before I nodded. It shouldn’t be so hard to keep my mouth shut, and maybe he’d hit the nail on the head—maybe all the talking kept me from having to feel. In my lifetime there had been so many feelings that I’d wanted to avoid. Perhaps I handled them all now—turned them, inspected them, made them safe and sterile before putting them on.

I didn’t want to live like that. Not if it meant missing out on the feelings that Boyd wanted to introduce to me.

So I let out another breath as he tied the scarf around my eyes and resolved to be a model submissive for the rest of the night.

Boyd spent the next fifteen minutes, longer possibly, doing just as he’d promised—touching me. He ran his fingers along every inch of my skin, then his lips, then his tongue, leaving no part of me unfelt or unexplored. With my sight gone and without the crutch of conversation, the rest of my senses perked up. My arms ached from being above my head for so long, but it became background sensation as I tried to guess where he’d go next, listening and feeling the heat of his body near mine, my muscles tensing in expectation. Over and over, he surprised me, and each startling caress notched my arousal up another level, even though his hands barely grazed my most erogenous zones.

I’d had almost no experience with Boyd yet, but I was sure of one thing—the man was an excellent tease.

As he fondled me, he’d praise me, commend me, admire me. “You’re so tight,” he said, spreading his hands over my ass, and I mentally applauded myself for all the miles I’d run over the years. Then his mouth was on me there, licking down to where my cheek met my thigh. “I could live with my face right here.”

God. What would that be like? I’d be happy to find out. Even happier if he’d move his tongue to the space
between
my legs. I widened my stance, hoping he’d get the hint, but he only chuckled and continued with his own damn agenda.

Just as the thrum at my core and the pain of my outstretched arms became too agonizing to remain silent, Boyd pulled me against him and angled his mouth over mine. He drank my unuttered cries, shaping my lips to mold with his. He slid his tongue across mine. Over mine. Around mine. He tasted familiar, like victory and mastery and promise, the way a newly acquired dividend looked like it would taste. In that kiss, I forgot about other lips and flavors and even about the other wants and desires licking their bold flames inside of me.

Then he pulled away. The silk scarf came off of my eyes, and there he stood in front of me, his eyes burning with lust, his cock a firm rod tenting his jeans. “I should get dinner ready for us,” he said.

And, yes, I was hungry. But food was the furthest thing from my mind.

“That’s all?” I hadn’t meant to sound so annoyed. No, actually, I had meant it. “Not that I don’t appreciate the attention, just—”

He’d reached up, presumably to unhook the chain of my cuffs from the ceiling, but he paused before doing so. “Did I say you could talk yet?”

I flushed but pretended that I hadn’t. “You said we were done, so I assumed. Though, I’m not sure how this can be done when no one actually finished.”
Ouch.
The words stung as I heard them with my own ears, but it was too late to take them back now.

Boyd didn’t seem to feel the sting. Instead he looked at me with growing curiosity. “
No one actually finished
… You mean because no one came?”

“Yes, that’s exactly what I mean.” Talking about it pushed my need for release even higher.

“We can fix that.” Boyd dropped his arms and began undoing his jeans.

My mouth watered, and it didn’t matter what the rules were regarding speech, because I couldn’t have stopped myself from babbling if I’d wanted to. “God, Boyd, I want you. Please, let me have you. Please.” I’d never wanted to see a cock so much in my life. Never wanted to touch it so badly that I salivated.

“I am letting you have me.” He pulled down his briefs just far enough to let his erection spring free. I gasped at how hard he was, how big he was. Boyd Barrett was hung. Who knew?

I
knew.
Now
I knew, anyway, and damn, I’d never been so excited about an endowment as I was about this one.

My eyes were pinned to his hand as he circled his palm around his throbbing staff. “This is for you. All of this.” He pumped his hand down his length. “Watch me stroke myself. This is only because you asked for it. Because you wanted me so badly.”

I pulled at the chain above me, desperate to have his cock. “I want you inside me, Boyd. Let me have you. Let me suck you.”

“No.”

My heart tripped over that one word. I must have heard him wrong, surely. “What?”

“This is what I want to give you, Norma. This alone.” He continued to stroke himself as he spoke, and I suddenly understood he had no intention of giving me what I so eagerly wanted.

“No! Please! Boyd!” I was unable to make a complete sentence, my words falling out in short, staccato pleas of frustration.

“Appreciate this, Norma. Watch this. Keep watching. I love your eyes on me while I jerk off. Almost as much as I love looking at you while I do it. It’s you that’s made me so fucking hard, and I’m going to come even harder. All for you.”

God, oh, god. I was clamping my thighs together, trying to stifle the strength of the pulsing while at the same time begging for Boyd to ease it in other ways. “Please. Please. I want you. Please!”

His strokes came quicker, his hand moving faster and faster along the length of his erection, the muscles in his forearm growing more taut and strained.

“Tell me where you want me to come,” he said, his voice tight as it interrupted my hoarse appeals.

“What?” I was having a hard time concentrating.

“On you or in my hand. Tell me where to come.” He took a step closer to me. “Hurry, Norma—decide.”

Where to come.
He wanted me to decide where he should come. His expression tightened, and I realized what he was asking as his face contorted with the onslaught of his orgasm.

“On me! On me!” I pushed the words out just in the nick of time, arching toward him to catch every drop of the hot stream of his climax on my belly. He groaned as he came, his lids heavy with ecstasy, his body tense as he emptied himself.

Hell, it was the most erotic thing I’d ever seen. I almost came just from the sight.

When he was finished, we were both sweaty and breathless. And the way he was looking at me now, his expression sated and oh so pleased at the artwork he’d left on my skin—I could live forever with that gaze, even if I never got off myself.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t quite true. I was more aroused than I’d ever remembered being, but somehow, his release felt more gratifying than I knew an orgasm of my own would have felt.

He reached above me to unhook my hands and said quietly, “You’ll stay the night tonight. I didn’t prepare you to stay, but there’s no way I can let you go home. I should have everything you’ll need.”

I was shaking as he brought my arms in front of me to undo the cuffs. There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to ask him to do to me, so much I wanted to beg for him to let me do to him.

All I could manage was, “Okay.”

He nodded once, the subtext behind his eyes seeming to understand all that I’d left unspoken.

Then, he tucked himself away, and said, “Let’s clean you up.”

Chapter Six

Boyd took me to his bedroom suite and left me to shower with instructions not to get myself off, which was especially maddening because I hadn’t had the idea until he’d brought it up. Then it felt like the most erotic agony as I washed my body, purposefully ignoring the buzzing between my legs. I’d been dealing with that unfulfilled yearning for weeks now and had assumed that I’d have some relief after agreeing to a relationship with him. But at the moment I was more miserable than ever.

Yet, I was in a surprisingly good mood. My shoulders felt less tense than usual, even after having my arms suspended for so long, and my body hummed with a tune familiar and long forgotten. There was even a bounce in my step as I toweled off and stepped out of the bathroom.

The bedroom was empty when I came out. I put on the T-shirt that had been laid on the bed, assuming it was meant for me, and followed the delicious smell of garlic and rosemary to the kitchen. I’d figured Boyd had ordered Italian, and so I was surprised to find him standing behind the stove, an apron over his bare chest and jeans.

I sat on a barstool and smiled at him across the island. “You cook?”

He poured me a glass of red wine and then dumped some into the saucepan in front of him before glancing up at me. “Sometimes. Right now I’m cooking for you.”

“I can’t remember the last time anyone cooked for me. Maybe my mother? After she died, I was the one who made all the meals.” I still made most of the meals for Gwen and me. Or, rather, I ordered most of the takeout.

“You work too hard all day; you shouldn’t have to cook at night too. I’m glad I get to be the one who changes that.”

I slanted my gaze at him. His floppy hair hid his brows, and even though he didn’t look up, I could see the grin on his lips.
Perfectly shaped lips
. Not too full, not too thin. Exactly right for kissing.

I bit my own lip thinking about the feel of his mouth against mine. “You really are good at that romance thing.”

“Don’t get too excited. It’s only spaghetti.”

Yes, except the sauce was homemade. And, from what I could tell, it looked like he was making up the recipe as he went along. And he had me daydreaming about making out when I’d never been big on kissing before.

Something caught in my chest, and I had to change topics to something less sappy. “So now that I’ve had your cum all over me, I feel like we’re close enough for me to ask how you can afford this amazing place.”

He glanced up with a chuckle. “You asked me that before you had my cum all over you,” he said, bringing the sauce spoon up to my lips to taste. “By the way, you looked really hot like that.”

“Mm.” The sauce was good. What he’d said was better.

It was my turn to grin. “Now you’ve flustered me. I can’t remember what I was saying.”

“Lies. You don’t forget anything.” He moved the pan of boiling pasta to the sink so he could pour the noodles into a colander. “You were asking about my money.”

He paused and I wasn’t sure if it was because he was focused on his cooking or because he didn’t want to say more. I was curious, though, so I waited quietly, which was easier than usual to do.

When he’d finished straining the spaghetti, he grabbed a plate from the counter that he must have laid out earlier, since it already had a serving of salad and a breadstick. “It’s a boring story, actually,” he said, using tongs to drop a pile of noodles on the dish. “I inherited everything. My father founded his own tech company, a very successful tech company. He passed away a few years ago and now it’s all mine.” He scooped a spoonful of sauce on top.

“You own a tech company?” I asked, taking the plate from him when he passed it over.

He dished up his own serving next. “I own shares in it. My brother and sister and I all own a third.”

“Then why the hell are you working for me?”

“Are you complaining?”

“Noooo.” I stretched out the end of the word so he could know exactly how much I wasn’t complaining.

He took off his apron and threw it on the counter before grabbing two forks out of a drawer. “Are you judging then?” His tone was playful but pointed. “Is it better to slave away all day and night for a business that I don’t have a passion for just because I have the opportunity to be important in that way?” He picked up his plate and his own glass of wine then gestured for me to come with him.

“No judging.” I slid off the barstool, teasing him as I followed him to the living room. “Defensive much?”

“Sorry. I hear this a lot. I have years of preparation with my response.”

“Then give it to me. The fully prepared response. Not because I’m judging you but because I want to know everything about you.”

“Now who’s doing the romancing?” He set his dishes on the coffee table then turned to take mine from me. “You don’t need to respond to that. Just let it sit and niggle at you until it’s comfortable.”