Merediths Awakening (14 page)

She continued, pulling him from his angry musings. “Then there was my father…” She trailed off for a moment. “I needed a new start.” Her eyes took on a far-off look.

“When I cut my hair, I let go of the past and all the expectations I’d ever held.” He understood what she was really saying. She’d tried to let go of that night, of any desire to free the passionate, fiery woman she kept bound so tightly inside, but he also understood she hadn’t been able to do it. It was in her eyes every time he reached for her.

The same desire, the same yearning need he’d felt in her five years ago.

“After what happened with Marcus, his divorce, Stirling’s death, I wasn’t the same person. It seemed like the outside should reflect the changes on the inside.” He spoke quietly, his heart breaking for her. “So cutting your hair was symbolic of your new start.”

She started a bit, like she’d forgotten he was there. Her eyes cleared and his serious Meredith was back. “So, I wanted to discuss something odd I noticed at the construction site with you.”

Tony stood up and cleared their dishes. “What did you want to talk about?” When she stood up and helped him load the dishes into the washer, he smiled; she probably didn’t even realize she was automatically helping him with the domestic work.

She placed her hands on the sink. “Something’s going on there. Something not quite right.”

Tony raised his brow. Damn, she missed nothing. “Like what, Princess?” He asked, letting his hand brush her face, not to distract her, but because he couldn’t bear not touching her.

She blinked, sidetracked by the contact of his hand. “I can’t put my finger on what it is specifically, but the other day I found a locked door. Then I could swear I heard someone leaving. Call it a hunch, but something just isn’t right.” Tony put both of his hands on her shoulders, “I can assure you, Meredith, if something was going on, I would know.”

The look she gave him said she wasn’t remotely satisfied with his answer, so Tony shushed her the only way he knew how; he kissed her. A long, hot, lingering kiss that made her moan.

Still kissing her he backed her into the living room. Hitting the button on the stereo, he smiled as mellow R and B flooded the room. He loved his surround sound. The music was soft enough for Meredith to hear his instructions, but loud enough so it didn’t afford her the opportunity to continue her line of questioning.

*

Meredith knew she was being maneuvered, and she knew later she’d be pissed, but right now she could only let herself be swept up in his kiss. She tried to pull away, but he held her head in place with one hand, while his other delved under her waistband and moved between her thighs.

His moan echoed hers as he drove two thick fingers into her. His voice was ragged, his accent making an appearance as he murmured, “You’re so wet for me. So beautifully wet.” His words vibrated against her damp lips, sending shivers of pleasure over her body.

Gradually, without her realizing it, he guided her fully into the room. Finally breaking the kiss, he drew back to lock his gaze on her swollen lips. The fire in his eyes left her chest heaving with unfulfilled desire.

She moved forward, trying to catch his mouth again, but he pulled back.

“Huh-uh,” he murmured. “Ask first. And ask the right way.” It was maddening. He avoided her questions, he worked her into a frenzy, then he made her beg. Her head snapped forward and she caught his bottom lip between sharp teeth with a low growl.

Meredith didn’t like the look of his smile when he pulled away.

“Oh, Princess, you are so bad.” He stroked a gentle hand down the line of her throat.

“I’m going to enjoy punishing you so much.”

Stepping away from her entirely, he spoke sharply, startling her into instant compliance. “Strip. Now.” Her trembling fingers flew to the button of her pants. “Oh, no, Princess. Do it slowly. Make me enjoy it. Start at the top.” Meredith was sure she’d felt more awkward in her life, more self-conscious, but she couldn’t remember when. Slowly she pulled her silky shirt free of her waistband. Inch by inch she drew it up, exposing pale skin roughened with chill bumps. She was the farthest thing from cold; it was all nerves.

“Eyes on mine,” he snapped, and she jerked up to meet his gaze. The smoldering intensity in his eyes warmed her. She was still painfully shy, but his obvious arousal stoked a fire in her belly much stronger than her fear.

Tony’s eyes traced every movement of her fingers, visually devouring her breasts, her belly, the curve of her waist. She felt his eyes like a touch, warming and steadying her.

With trembling fingers she unclipped her bra. Her nipples hardened painfully under the stroke of his gaze. Her entire body was shaking, breath jerking unevenly as she slid her panties down the curve of her hips.

“Give them to me,” he extended one hand, and she hesitantly handed him her damp panties. She almost fell over when he lifted them to his face, burying his nose in the fragrant lace. “You smell so delicious, Princess. Like spices and sugar. Like everything good.” He tucked the panties in his pocket. “Touch yourself.” Meredith looked at him pleadingly, and he relented a bit. “Touch your breasts.

Squeeze those pretty pink nipples. Pretend it’s me.” She gave an uncertain nod, and lifted her hands to cup the delicate swells of her breasts. It was so different touching herself in front of him than it was when she was alone. As she plucked at her tingling nipples, fire streaked straight to her clit. Tony just smiled in satisfaction and motioned her hands lower.

“Touch your pretty pussy. Tell me how wet it is.”

One hand slid down her belly, while the other continued to cup her breast. Slowly she slipped two fingers between swollen lips, biting her lip at the jolt of pleasure that shook her.

“How does it feel, Princess?” His voice was almost a whisper, but was relentless for all its softness.

“So wet. So hot.” Her voice was broken, her breath ragged. “I’m burning up for you.”

He gave her a long look. “Burning up, what?”

Her answer was instinctive. “Anthony. I’m burning up for you, Anthony.”

“That is so good, baby. So sweet.” He leaned in to press an approving kiss to her forehead. Stepping back he directed, “Sit down on the couch.” She sat, perching on the edge. “That is perfect. You’re perfect.” His approval warmed her. “Now spread your legs wide. Show me your beautiful, wet pussy. Put your hands on the couch next to you.

Beautiful. Now don’t move.”

Meredith sat, completely exposed to his burning gaze. Keeping his eyes locked to hers, Tony lifted his hands to the buttons of his shirt. One by one he slid them loose, baring the golden curves of his chest, the copper disks of his nipples, the ridged planes of his abdomen.

Each inch of bare, burnished flesh called out to her. Her fingers ached with the need to trace the rigid tips of his nipples, the light scatter of fine black hair across his chest, the silky line of hair leading from his navel on a southerly journey of discovery.

When his hand dropped to the button of his jeans, Meredith thought her heart would explode. He stopped with the top button, taunting her with the strain of his swollen cock against his fly.

Observing her glazing eyes and drooping lips, Tony sent her a naughty grin, like a young boy who’d stolen a cookie from the cookie jar. “See something you like, baby?” As if he didn’t know full well she was crazy to get her hands and mouth on him.

She didn’t realize her hands had left the couch, reaching for his mouthwatering, golden body until he snapped, “Hands down!” Her hands slapped back down to the seat of the couch, and she widened her thighs still more for good measure.

“That’s better, Princess. I’ll only have to punish you a little.” He gave her a sleepy smile and dragged his hand along the swollen length of his cock. “You’re really racking them up, baby. I can hardly wait until your gorgeous ass is glowing pink.” Letting his gaze rest on her white knuckles, clenched on the edge of the couch, his gaze softened. “What do you need, Princess? Just ask and it’s yours.” She didn’t know which of them was more surprised when she answered without hesitating. “You. Please, Anthony, I need to touch you.” His smile was feral, and somehow it warmed her clear through. “I need you to touch me,” she concluded.

To her enormous relief, he didn’t make her squirm. Holding one broad hand out, he lifted her from the couch and drew her to stand in front of him.

*

Tony slid his hands down her back, cupping her firm behind and pulling her tight against him, dipping his head to catch her mouth with his. When she moaned into his mouth and kissed him back, he could have shouted in triumph. His woman, coming to him willingly.

He coasted his hands over her shoulders, cupping her breasts to squeeze them lightly.

When she swayed into his touch, he caught her nipples between his fingers and thumbs, pinching sharply. She tried to break the kiss, gasping, but he moved his hands, holding her head in place with one hand while his other moved between her thighs.

She was beautifully wet as his fingers slipped through her delicate folds. When he traced the outline of her clitoris, her moan vibrated against his lips. She cried out as he drove two thick fingers into her, and he had to fight to keep from crying out, too. She was so tight. So wet. So hot and ready for him. He worked those fingers back and forth, his palm grinding her clit, and reveled in each little cry, drank down every urgent whimper.

He broke the kiss only long enough to catch a breath before diving back into her mouth.

She tasted of sweet Italian spices, and a sweetness all her own. He knew he’d never get enough of those lips.

He dipped his head, sipped and licked into her, and the entire time his fingers kept up their seek and destroy mission between her legs, the entire time her hips moved back and forth against his hand. He felt her tremble, her legs shake, and slid his hand free to steady her.

Finally he relinquished her mouth, pulling back enough to look at her swollen, red lips. Her chest heaved as she tried desperately to catch her breath. Her eyes were molten with unfulfilled desire.

He’d known she was coming, had anticipated the need to distract her, and had prepared the living room accordingly. Lifting his hands he ran his fingers through her hair, smoothing the feathery black strands away from her face before sliding his hands over her shoulders and down her arms, finally stopping to cuff her wrists loosely in his hands.

“Hands behind your back, Princess,” he commanded. She did as he asked the first time and he was pleased. Tony walked to the basket he’d set on the low cherry wood table in front of the couch and retrieved a set of velvet-lined black leather cuffs. To his great satisfaction, she stood quietly where he’d left her, hands clasped loosely behind her back. The only sign of apprehension she showed was in her wide, haunted eyes.

Tony clenched his fist around the black leather cuffs, which were held together in the middle by a short silver chain. He needed to teach her a lesson. She had to know she could trust him, to really believe it on a deep, instinctive level. And, he thought, maybe if she trusted him with her body, then she would be able to trust him with her heart.

Carefully he placed one cuff on each delicate wrist, meticulously tightening them until he heard her hiss.

“Is that a pain sound, Princess? If it hurts, you need to tell me,” he stroked the skin around the cuffs. “I want you stirred up, not hurting.” He didn’t stop to examine his relief when she hesitantly shook her head no. “Remember baby, we can stop at any time.” He placed a small object in her hand.

“What’s this,” she asked.

Tony walked around to face her. “It’s a panic button. If things get too intense for you, you press it and it’ll make a noise loud enough to catch my attention.” He pressed the button, demonstrating, and a sharp whistle pierced the silence. She looked at it, then at him. “If you need to stop,” he reminded her, “then we stop and talk about it.” He wasn’t willing to promise to let it go entirely. His Princess was so tightly wound she might just panic before she hit a wall. He reserved the right to talk her through it.

Still looking puzzled, she asked, “Isn’t it easier to just tell you?” Tony ran a finger down her cheek. “Normally it would be, but you won’t be talking.” The confusion didn’t leave her face until he reached back into the basket behind her.

The ball gag wasn’t particularly large; he didn’t want to scare her or make her truly uncomfortable.

“I don’t know if I can do this, Tony.” Her voice was low and urgent, and she’d said just the wrong thing.

Tony grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her in for a bruising kiss. When he felt her lips soften he pulled back.

“What did you just call me?”

Tony suppressed a little wince when she flinched at his hard words. He felt even guiltier when she raised apprehensive eyes to meet his.

“Anthony, you aren’t really going to gag me, are you?”

“Yes, Meredith, I really am. You
can
do this. I know you can.” He was careful to keep his own doubts off his face. “You know what to do if you want to stop.” He ran a taunting finger over one painfully hard nipple and gave her a mischievous smile when she shuddered in reaction. “Say the word. Press the button. Go ahead, I dare you.” When she remained still, Tony dipped his head to take her mouth again, more gently this time. When he finally pulled away, he reached up to cup her cheeks in his hands, his thumbs gently urging her mouth open. He carefully eased the ball gag into her mouth, stepping behind her to fasten the satin ribbon to hold it steady, tying it securely around the back of her head. Snug but not painful. Unable to resist, he trailed his fingers down her spine, savoring her silky skin, the shivers of reaction rippling through her.