Purely Professional (18 page)

“But not enough to watch that video with me.” He sighed and shook his head. “Too bad.”

What? That was the condition of this moving forward? Her mouth fell open a bit. That was a dirty trick. She nearly backpedaled, agreeing to watch the video in exchange for some action, but she didn’t want to give in. “I suppose not.
Sir
,” she emphasized, and pressed her lips together. What an asshole.

“Sleep well, Bridget.” Max gestured to the door. Bridget stood up, looking from him to the door and back again, both confused and annoyed. He was throwing her out? A blowjob and then it’s “good night”? Well, fine, if that was the way he wanted it. She strode to the door, her footsteps heavier than usual, then paused, her hand on the door handle, and turned back to him. She couldn’t let it go like this.

“You’re not being fair.” Her voice came out a little more loudly than she intended. He looked up, raising one eyebrow.

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” She felt the rush of adrenaline that usually meant she was going to regret what happened next, but in that moment, she didn’t care. “You gave me safe words for when I was uncomfortable, and I’m uncomfortable, so I used one. And now you don’t like it? Tough. That’s how it goes.”

“Safe words aren’t for when you’re uncomfortable,” Max said, his voice cold. “They’re for when you need everything to stop. So I made everything stop.”

“You made everything stop for
me
.” Bridget knew she was practically yelling. “Is that how it works? You just get whatever you want, and nothing for me?”

“Are you kidding?” Max got to his feet and faced her from across the room. “You don’t get anything? You get
everything
.” He ran a hand through his hair, agitated. His face was flushed with color, and she could see his chest rise and fall with his quickened breath. “This is
all
for you. Or did you forget that?”

“Oh, so this is still just a favor?” Bridget clenched both hands, her fingernails pressing into her palms. “You’re doing it all for me, poor little martyred Dominant? I thought this was…” She grasped for words, language failing her. “I thought we were…” She waved her arm expansively, searching for the right phrase and not finding it, frustration making it difficult to think.

Max began to walk toward her and paused, his body going still. He met her eyes through the expanse of space between them. “You thought we were what?” He took one more halting step forward. “What are we, Bridget?”

“Nothing.” She was unable to keep the bitterness out of her voice, not even sure why she felt bitter. “Forget it.” And she left without looking back again.

Back in her house, Bridget flung herself down on the sofa. What the hell was that all about? He was doing her a favor? After everything, the kisses and the cuddling and the “God, Bridget, you’re so sexy” and the motherfucking
Scrabble
? What an ass. She stared up at the ceiling, residual adrenaline making her dizzy.

But damn it all if she wasn’t horny. He wanted complete control over her sex life? Well, maybe he couldn’t have it. Maybe she’d just rub one out right there on the sofa, fuck his rules and restrictions.

She stewed on that as she got ready for bed. Yes, she decided as she slipped into a brief nightgown, she was going to do it. He was being spiteful, and she could get back at him.

She continued to bluster in her mind as she brushed her teeth. This whole thing had been a shitty idea. They’d gotten too close. Somewhere along the way, she’d begun to want him, to need him, and nothing good would come of it. Best to just forget him and move on. She slammed her toothbrush back into its holder, tipping over the little cup and sending toiletries skittering across the counter and floor. Swearing under her breath, she picked up the fallen items. As she did so, it occurred to her that she’d forgotten the camera.

Bridget had just finished picking up her makeup off the floor when the doorbell rang. There was only one person who would be ringing the bell at this hour. Well, fine. She’d tell him what she thought of all of this bullshit, and make him give her back the camera at the same time. She stalked downstairs, her bare feet slapping on the wooden stairs, muttering obscenities the whole way. When she reached the entryway, she turned the handle and flung open the door.

Sure enough, Max was standing there. Something had changed since she’d left, though: his body was relaxed, hands thrust into the pockets of his jeans, shoulders slightly hunched. He opened his mouth to speak.

“Listen,” she cut him off, “you’ve got a lot of nerve—”

Before she could continue, Max took her face in his hands and crushed her mouth with his. He kicked the door shut behind them, pressing her against the wall, and all her protests died as he parted her lips with his own.

“I want you,” he murmured between kisses, his mouth moving down to her neck, taking small nips of her skin.

“W-wait,” she stammered, struggling to regain control of her thoughts. She held him at arm’s length, breathing slowly in and out, bracing herself on the wall behind her. “Half an hour ago, you threw me out. Why are you here?”

Max’s expression softened, and he licked his lips. “I watched the video.”

Bridget dropped her hand from his chest and averted her eyes, knowing what she must have looked like, embarrassment overwhelming all her previous anger. “I want the camera back.” She tried to keep her voice emotionless.

He ignored her statement and stepped in closer again, his body just brushing hers. “I love watching you come. Your eyelids flutter in this incredible way, and you throw your head back as you arch, and I just can’t stop thinking about the way it feels to be buried inside you when it happens.” He touched her upper arm, running his fingers down her bare skin. “But what made me walk over here was listening to you say my name when you were coming.”

Bridget swallowed, her mouth suddenly dry. “I didn’t know I did that.”

Max pulled her against him. “I’m sorry I threw you out.” He cupped the side of her face in his hand, his thumb tracing her cheekbone, and Bridget couldn’t help leaning into his touch, her own need betraying her. “You were right to call me out on it. I was annoyed that you used your safe word and I wanted to punish you. That wasn’t fair.” He pressed his forehead to hers. “So if it’s all right with you, I want to make you say my name again.”

Bridget hesitated, mollified by his apology but still uncertain. “This is probably a bad idea.”

He nodded, dropping his lips back to hers again. “Probably. I want to do it anyway.”

“Is this a favor to me?” she asked, feeling a bit cocky.

His lips twitched upward. “No.”

Oh, fuck it all. She leaned up to press her smiling lips to his. “Come upstairs.”

As they stumbled to her room, Bridget thought this was much more like the spontaneous desk fuck in his office than the calculated, controlled sex sessions in his bedroom. He didn’t stop kissing her except to drag her clothes off, his lips bruising and insistent, and she kissed him back with equal passion. Pulling him down onto her bed, she tugged at the last of his clothes.

Her entire body was singing with pleasure as he laved her nipples with his tongue, alternating between sucking, biting and teasing licks. She buried her hands in his thick hair and gave herself up to the sensation as he began kissing his way down her stomach. Her hands fisted in his hair, nails digging into his scalp as he kissed the hollow of her hip, then gently but firmly spread her legs.

Bridget couldn’t speak, couldn’t ask, couldn’t do anything but gasp and pant as she felt his hot breath against her. She’d had a brief tease of this the other night and wanted more, so much more. Finally, when she thought she would break from the tension, he pressed his tongue against her, drawing it up through her folds to the hard nub at the very top, making her cry out. God, he was good at this. He took his time, licking and sucking at her clit, then stopping to slide his tongue deep inside her. She arched up against his mouth, warmth rushing through her, a dizzying sharp pleasure that rendered her breathless. Max returned his attention to her aching clit and slid two fingers inside her, making her hips buck. Oh damn, it was so good, but she wanted more.

“Stop,” she gasped, and he pulled back. “I want to fuck you.” Actually, she wanted to do more than fuck him. She wanted take him apart, piece by piece, to lay him bare and watch him come undone.

Bridget pushed Max onto his back and straddled his hips, hovering above him before sinking down, taking him inside her inch by inch. He looked up at her, his eyes wide, lips parted, chest heaving with each deep breath. She liked to see him like that, barely holding on to his control, knowing she was the reason. She stayed there for several breaths, feeling his cock throb inside her, before beginning to move. He felt amazing filling her, the angle perfect as she rocked her hips back and forth.

It was good, so good, but somehow not quite enough. She took his hands in hers and moved them to her hips. Taking her direction, he began to pull her harder against him as he thrust upward. He managed to hit just the right spot with each thrust, stretching her almost to the point of pain. Maybe this was all just sex, technically, but she knew something had changed, even if she wasn’t ready to say what that was. It felt profoundly different than anything they’d shared before, and she couldn’t look away as his eyes rolled back and he clenched his jaw, clearly trying to hold back.

“Touch yourself.” His voice was rough and he arched his hips again to drive deeply inside her. She began to rub her clit, feeling the familiar tingle inside her that indicated an oncoming climax. Bridget remembered the way he could make her feel helpless, the bonds tight against her wrists, unable to move. She met his eyes again, the question on her lips, unsure if she was supposed to ask.

He nodded almost imperceptibly, his face tense with the strain of holding back. “Fuck, yes, come for me,” he hissed, and she crashed over the edge with a cry, his name on her lips and everything else dissolving.

When she came to herself again, she looked down at Max, who was watching her with an intensity that might have made her blush if it weren’t for his hard cock still buried inside her. With surprising speed, he flipped her over on her back and sank into her once more, his moan close to a growl. She arched up and took him all the way in, reveling in the weight of his body holding hers down. Before she could even think to analyze it, she raised both hands over her head. He took the hint immediately, braceleting her wrists with one hand and holding her down. He began to thrust, at first slowly and steadily, then harder and faster. She squirmed, not because she wanted to get away, but because it was so erotic to feel like she couldn’t. Max reached his free hand down between them and found her clit, and one hard, rough touch was all it took to send her over the edge again just as he began to shudder and empty himself. His hand tightened on her wrists and he moaned her name.

Afterward, Bridget stroked Max’s hair as he rested his head on her breast, his body moving with each labored breath. When his breathing had calmed, he lifted his head and looked down at her, then smiled.

He drew slowly out of her and sat back, exhaling deeply. She sat up, muscles a bit sore. This was going to get awkward.

“That was…unexpected,” she said when she couldn’t stand the silence anymore.

He rubbed the back of his neck. “A good change, though, right?”

“Yeah.” She pulled her nightgown back over her head. He sat there naked for a while, unselfconscious, before getting up at last and pulling his clothes back on. She watched him dress, not sure what to say, not wanting him to get the wrong impression. The sex had been fantastic, but that was all it was. That was all it could ever be. “This doesn’t… change anything,” she said at last. “Right?”

“Of course not,” he said, maybe a little too quickly. But then he paused, and she saw a change pass over his face. “But…it could.”

“What do you mean? You want to start having plain vanilla sex now?” Her laugh sounded hollow and she couldn’t seem to figure out what to do with her hands. She fidgeted with the duvet, then with the hem of her nightgown.

“You asked me if this was still just a favor.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Well, it’s not. I like you. I like you more and more the longer we’re together.” He ran a hand through his curly hair, seeming to struggle with the words. “I think…maybe I want something more. I don’t want to pretend anymore.”

Bridget felt her stomach churn, her entire body suddenly cold. “What?” she asked, even though she’d heard him, because she couldn’t think of what else to say.

“I like spending time with you. You’re funny and smart. I think we’re compatible partners. I’d like to get to know you better.” He looked at her, his expression both hopeful and apprehensive.

“Max, I told you I don’t do relationships.” The protest sounded weak even to her own ears.

“Come on, Bridget.” Max got to his feet. “I’ve been spending a
lot
of time with you these last couple of weeks, and I know what you said on your blog. Either you like me too, or you’re a hell of a liar. This isn’t about not having time for a relationship. It’s about something else, isn’t it?”

Bridget drew her legs up on the bed and wrapped her arms around them, not sure how to respond. “All right. It’s not about not wanting a relationship. I
do
like you.” She hesitated, then blurted out what had been on her mind these past few weeks. “But you want a submissive, and that’s not me.” She shook her head. “I think you’re just going to be disappointed. I’m doing this for my job. If it weren’t for the blog, I would never let you do any of the things you’ve done to me.” As the words left her mouth, she wondered if they were true.

Max shook his head. “You’re lying. You’ve been into all of it.” His voice was laced with disbelief, and he pointed to the bed. “You can’t fake that. You had me pin you down just now. What was that all about?”

“I don’t…” She pulled her legs in tighter and felt ashamed, unwilling to accept that he might be right, because what would that mean? What kind of woman would she be if this was what she wanted? What if she no longer had an excuse to hide behind?