Having Her: Lies We Tell, Book 2 (17 page)

“Master, please,” she said quickly. “Let me clean myself up for you.”

“Not yet.” His arm tightened, his hand stroking down through the curls between her thighs. “You need a reward.”

She shuddered as he touched her. Perhaps it would be okay if he did it while she was facing away. So he wouldn’t see the blood. So she wouldn’t have to explain why she hadn’t told him to stop.

“Wait there,” he ordered. “Don’t move.”

Kara waited as he released her and she heard him step away. But there was no time to do anything about the bleeding because he was back seconds later, turning her then easing her back against the wall before she could protest. He dropped to his knees in front of her.

Saw the blood.

“Fuck.” He tipped back his head and looked at her, banked rage creeping slowly back into his eyes. “You told me I didn’t hurt you.”

“You didn’t. It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

His fingers brushed her stomach. “Jesus Christ, Kara—”

“Don’t call me that. Not here. Not now.”

Vin surged to his feet, the look on his face thunderous. “You lied to me, slave.”

“No, I didn’t.” She leaned against the wall, struggling to get herself together. “There was a pin in the wall. It wasn’t you. And it didn’t hurt anyway.”

“You’re fucking bleeding.”

“It’s not your fault.”

“It is my fault! If I hadn’t—”

“Master, please.” She said it softly, trying to bring him back to the fantasy. She didn’t want him to regret this or doubt her. Because she’d loved the fact she’d got him to stay, to give her his anger. She had the feeling that Vincent Fox always kept a tight grip on it and the fact that he’d trusted her enough to use it to push them both had made her feel…well, she still needed to sort through it but she’d felt thankful. Needed. More his than ever.

“It’s just a scratch,” she went on when he didn’t speak. “It’s nothing.”

A second passed, then a minute. Vin just looked down at her, the expression on his beautiful face utterly unreadable. Then he said, “What do you want?”

She stared at him. “What do you mean?”

“You gave yourself to me. So now I’m going to give something to you. What do you want from me? Anything. You can ask for anything.”

“Anything?” she repeated blankly. He’d never asked her what she wanted before and she’d been more than okay with it because whatever he wanted usually seemed to suit her. And besides, she liked she didn’t have to make any decisions. But somehow, now that he’d said it and given her this chance, she knew exactly what she wanted.

“Naked,” she said. “I want you naked.”

He turned without a word and stepped into the lounge, and as she followed, she saw him beginning to shrug off his suit jacket. And yet another need rose up inside her.

“I want to do it.”

He paused, his hand on his tie, flashing her an enigmatic glance.

“Please, master.” Hell, she’d beg for this if she had to because he never undressed with her. Always, she was the one who was naked. She’d never minded because it felt right since she was the slave but the hunger had always been there. He was a work of art underneath his clothes and she wanted to see him bare. Touch him.

Her mouth had gone dry, the small pain of the scratch forgotten, unassuaged desire beginning to build again. Yes, she’d beg. A slave had no shame. “Let me undress you. Please.”

He hesitated for a moment then slowly turned to her, lifting his arms from his sides and holding them out. Waiting.

She walked forward, coming right up to him, her hands pulling on the knot of his tie. God, he smelled good. That spicy aftershave he used and freshly laundered clothes. Sun-warmed skin and a hint of musk from the sex they’d just had. Her fingers shook.

Slow down.

She made herself breathe, made her fingers slow as she managed to get off his tie, folding it neatly over the back of the chair before coming back to him to start on the buttons of his shirt. Undoing them one by one, revealing bare, tanned skin beneath the white cotton.

He was looking at her, watching her as she did it, she knew because she could almost feel his gaze pressing down on her. But she didn’t look up, didn’t want to meet his eyes. Her hunger for him was obvious, she couldn’t hide it, but still. He hadn’t said she could look at him anyway.

She finished unbuttoning his shirt, remembered to undo the cuffs around his wrists, then drew it off him, hanging it over the chair so it wouldn’t crease too badly. The intimacy of the gesture wasn’t lost on her and yet she didn’t mind when it was him on the receiving end. When it was her, it was different.

He didn’t speak as she knelt to take off his shoes and socks. Or when she undid his trousers and took them off too, leaving him in only a pair of skin-tight black boxers which did nothing to hide his response to what she was doing. Clearly he liked it.

She knelt in front of him, hooked her fingers in the waistband and slowly drew his boxers down. As he stepped out of them, she felt one of his hands rest gently on her head, his fingers sifting through her hair and she had to stop, take a silent breath, her throat constricting at the gesture. She didn’t want tender. It threatened something in her. Felt dangerous somehow. So she bent, running her hands down his muscular thighs and long calves, and his fingers curled tight, his hold not at all tender all of a sudden.

“Up,” he said.

She rose to her feet, standing in front of him. Looking.

Beautiful. He was beautiful. His skin was a deep tawny brown, like oiled silk over the sharply cut muscles of his chest and abdomen. A body sculpted from hard work, sweat and sheer physical exertion. He was the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. She wanted to run her hands all over him, kiss him, taste him. God, do
everything
she could think of to him.

“Please,” she heard herself whisper hoarsely. “I want to touch you, master. Please let me.”

He said nothing, going past her to sit down on the couch then holding out a hand to her. “Come here.”

She went without hesitation, without any thought at all in her head except that perhaps he would let her have this. And if he did then the agony of not being able to have that release would have been totally worth it.

Vin took her by the hips, tugging her down into his lap so she was sitting like she had that first night, facing him, her knees on spread on either side of his thighs. But this time he didn’t hold her, only sat back and put his arms along the back of the couch, watching her, his eyes dark. The sun from the windows threw shadows over the pure planes and angles of his face, highlighting the sheer beauty of him.

How do you deserve a man like this? You don’t. Of course you don’t.

She shoved the evil thought away, stuffed it back into the darkness. Because that thought belonged to Kara, not the slave. The slave got only what she was given to her by her master and her master was giving her himself. She couldn’t refuse.

She lifted her hands, put them on his chest, felt heat, the fire beneath his skin. He was smooth and hot, the flex and release of his muscles beneath her fingers as she let her fingers trail down his chest to his abdomen, searching, exploring.

Unable to help herself, she leaned forward and pressed her mouth to his throat, where his pulse beat strong and sure. His skin tasted salty and hot and delicious. She licked him, rocking her hips, the rigid length of his cock pressing between her thighs, her hands stroking farther down. This was too much for her. This was too good. She’d been on the edge already and just a little more friction would push her over it.

But Vin pulled her hands away. “Not like that, slave,” he said. “Go get me a condom.”

She didn’t want to have to get up but since this was obviously going to benefit her too, she did as she was told, thanking God she’d started keeping a stash of condoms in one of the drawers of the dresser near the door.

He let her handle the protection, staying right where he was on the couch, then lifted her up, only to lower her down on him, so she felt him slide deeply inside her. Her fingers curled on his chest, digging into his skin, the breath escaping from her in a harsh rush. His hand slid behind her head as he pulled her down for a kiss that caught her by surprise.

He hardly ever kissed her. Yet this…this was hot. Sweet. Hungry. Intimate. It did things to her. Did things she didn’t want and yet she couldn’t pull away. Her master was giving her something and so she had to take it.

She shuddered in his arms, his hands on her hips guiding her movements in a gentle rise and fall. Pleasure burst in her head, a wild explosion of light, and she lost herself in it. Put Kara and her demons away, and let herself revel in being the slave, with nothing but her master’s pleasure to worry about. Nothing to think about but him. Doing his bidding.

So that when he whispered, “Come for me, slave,” she did. Instantly. Shattering like a pane of glass before a sharp stone, her high, wild cries swallowed by his mouth.

And when his arms closed around her, holding her as she rode out the aftershocks, she didn’t pull away.

That was the beauty of being the slave. She could have the things Kara would never allow herself.

“I can’t tonight, Vin. I’m going out with Kara.”

Vin stopped in the middle of the busy footpath, cell phone clutched in one hand. “Why?” The demand came out before he could stop it.

“What do you mean why?” Ellie sounded more than a little pissed off. “That’s none of your damn business.”

With an effort he contained his angry response. Which, he had to be honest, had less to do with Ellie not wanting to meet him for a drink and more to do with the fact that Kara had cancelled their meeting tonight. It had been him the night before—a problem with Lillian’s accommodation he had to sort out—and now he was restless and aching, and wanting her. Looking forward to the moment when he could wrap that chain in his fist and pull her to him.

Fucking Neanderthal.

Vin clenched his jaw tight. “What I meant was, I’d like to see you a few more times before you leave for Tokyo. If you have time that is.”

There was a pause. Then Ellie said, in a softer tone, “Ah, I’m sorry, Vin. I know I said I was around but it’s Kara’s birthday today. She doesn’t like to make a big deal out of it but I do.”

Kara’s birthday? She hadn’t said anything to him about it. Not a word. Then again, why would she? They weren’t in the kind of relationship that celebrated that sort of thing and God knew he already understood what Ellie was saying about Kara not wanting to make a fuss. He’d already noticed she hated having attention lavished on her. In fact, the only place she allowed it was in the bedroom, as his slave.

After he’d ended the phone call, Vin stood on the footpath, scowling at nothing in particular. Because somehow the knowledge of Kara’s birthday had lodged in his brain and he couldn’t seem to get rid of it.

He should do something. Get her a present. A little thing to show his appreciation of her in some way because it felt wrong not to mark the occasion. They’d been intimate after all and yeah, so it was only physical but still.

Of course the really tricky thing would be to find something she would accept from him because he had the feeling she’d probably throw anything he gave her back in his face. Somehow he had to find a gift that she’d both like and find impossible to refuse…

It wasn’t until ten minutes later, as he was passing a jewelry shop that he saw something that made him stop. That made him put his hands on the glass and stare.

That made him smile.

Because it was possibly the one thing on earth Kara Sinclair would not be able to refuse him.

Kara heaved in a shuddering breath, the aftershocks of her orgasm still echoing through her. She was on the couch in her apartment, astride Vin’s supine body with him still inside her. And man, she felt good. He lay on the couch beneath her, his eyes closed, the white business shirt he wore unbuttoned, the fabric spread wide.

Leaning back in his lap, her hands behind her, gripping his knees, she let her gaze run over him, hungry for the sight. Sweat sheened his torso, highlighting the chiseled contours of his chest and abdomen, gleaming at his throat. She wanted to lean down and lick him there.

Lick him everywhere.

Holy God but he was so very desirable. Even moments after an orgasm, when she should have been happy and sated, she wanted more.

“Master,” she said huskily, “may I touch you?”

He didn’t move, his eyes closed, long dark lashes fanned out on his cheekbones. “No. We’re done for today.”

Disappointment twisted in her gut despite the fact that she knew the middle of the day visits were always going to be limited by their jobs. Tom, her assistant, was fine over a lunch hour but any longer and he started to get anxious. He was great with keeping the computers going and dealing with any tech issues but when it came to the coffee making, not so much.

“Oh.” The word slipped out without her permission and she cringed inwardly, hoping he wouldn’t hear the disappointment edging it.

His eyes flicked open and he lifted his head, one of his rare, perfect smiles hovering around his mouth. “Is that disappointment I hear, slave?”