Scandalous-nook (7 page)

If, late at night when she couldn’t force herself to sleep, she also felt a twinge
or two of jealousy that he’d found what she couldn’t, no one ever had to know.

His palm was cupping one cheek of her ass now. She should remind him that he wasn’t
following the rules, but God, his hand felt good. Hot. Strong.

“Were you in love with him?”

Why would he care? “Yes, I love him madly, but not like that. Neither one of us ever
felt like that about the other.”

“Then why risk your friendship for se—”

“No.” She bit her cheek, desperate to regain control. She shifted sensually against
him for good measure. “We’re changing the subject now. It’s my turn to pry into
your
sex life and hear your confessions. Have you ever done anything with one of your
women that you would consider kinky? If I know, it can help me tailor my performance
as your love slave to suit you.”

His fingertips traced her curves. “Is sex in a public parking lot considered kinky?
Or on my knees in the backyard gazebo where my parents renewed their vows only hours
before? Would going through a woman’s personal things while she’s writhing on top
of me with her ass bare and tempting me to take a bite be considered a fetish?”

“Biting
is
a thing,” she moaned as he squeezed the flesh under his hand. She wanted him to bite
her. “But I don’t mean with me. With me it was the possibility of getting caught that
always turned you on. I mean your other women.”

“It was never about getting caught.” He sounded distracted. Frustrated. “And no.”

“No, you’ve never done anything kinky with other women? Or no, you’re not going to
tell me about it?”

“Yes.”

That didn’t seem fair, but she already knew the answer from years of experience. He
may not know the buzzwords or have any toys, but when he loosened his tie and let
himself go, she felt something from him. Something under the surface. A natural dominant
waiting to come out and play. She just had to find a way to bring it out.

The devil inside made her press for a reaction. “You read as pure vanilla, but with
a little guidance you could be one hell of a Dom. Even without it I think you have
good instincts. If someone asks we can go with primal. It wouldn’t be too far off
the mark and it doesn’t require any training with whips or ropes.”

“What
does
it require?”

“Just some good, old-fashioned alpha male aggression. I can see you getting off on
pressing a woman down on the ground, holding her hands above her head or behind her
back so she couldn’t distract you while you made her scream. You’d enjoy ripping off
her clothes, grabbing a handful of hair at the base of her neck and yanking until
she submitted to your demands.”

He swore and his grip on her flesh tightened deliciously. She loved his reaction,
and the images her words had drawn in her own mind were arousing. Graphic. “Mmm. I
can also tell the thought of spanking me has crossed your mind. Before you ask, I’m
definitely up for it. You could spank my pussy and make me come like that. We can
put it on the party performance list.”

“You
want
me to spank you?” His voice was so deep she had a hard time hearing him. “In front
of people?”

“I’m a bad girl, Stephen. Everyone knows that and a few people at the party will know
me. Which means they’ll be as surprised as I was to find out we’re an item. They wouldn’t
believe you were really my lover if you didn’t know how to keep me satisfied. Keep
me in line.”

His fingers were digging into her skin now, and she knew her words had hit their target.
“Which part turned you on, Senator? The idea of spanking me or the thought of making
me come in front of an audience?”

“Both. All of it. So much it should be disturbing,” he growled.

She was right there with him. “New plan. We’ll just have to find out the fun way what
your turn-ons and limits are.”

“I’m close to my limit right now, Natasha Kathleen.”

His low warning went straight to her sex, made her edgy, craving the release only
he could give her. “This is for a good cause, remember? Truth, justice and the American
way?”

His fingers were underneath the slender strap of her thong and slipping through the
wet lips of her sex before she could say another word. Her thighs tightened on his
hand and she gasped. “What are you doing?’

“Spread your legs for the cause,” he ordered gruffly. “Or no more questions.”

Was he turning this around on her? She did as he said, moaning when he slid one thick
finger inside. Oh damn, that felt good.

Wait, questions. She needed to ask him more questions. “When was the last time you
had a woman spend the night here?”

“Two years ago,” he muttered. “She showed up on my doorstep, rode me like I was a
carnival attraction and then slipped away while I was sleeping.”

She lifted her hips to meet his hand, her concentration fading fast.
She
was the last woman he’d had in his bed? It had been six months since he kissed her.
Longer since he touched her like this. Not since last Christmas.

Maybe he met his other women at discreet hotels or in the bathroom stalls at the capitol
building. There was no way to know. Just like there was no way for him to know how
long it had been for her.

Despite her regular weekends at the club, she hadn’t had sex with anyone in more than
seven months—not since the party where Owen had walked in on her, Jeremy and one of
the coworkers from her annual catering gig for the LGBT parade brigade.
That
little blond could make a mean chutney, but she hadn’t realized until it was too
late that he was a screamer…and that she hadn’t locked the door. Other than that?
She didn’t want to think about how long it had been since she’d had sex with someone
she wanted as much as she wanted Stephen.

Last Christmas.

She’d like to forget everything else and just enjoy what he was doing to her, but
their mission was why she was here. He’d asked for her help. She had to remember that.
Even when he was touching her like this. 

“One more dating question,” she groaned. “Is there anyone I would be jealous of as
your lover? Someone I should know about if her name is mentioned to test me?”

Stephen added a second finger to the first and she cried out in surprise at the stretch.

“Senator Lark has been pushing his daughter Veronica in my direction.” He spoke softly,
his voice deep and husky with need as he focused on exploring her. “Those two have
been showing up for photo ops everywhere I go and giving coy hints about a secret
romance in interviews. God, you feel like hot silk on my fingers. Squeeze them again.”

Tasha pressed her forehead into the couch cushions. “We shouldn’t do this here. Brady
should be back soon and we need to plan our—Stephen!”

He moved out from under her and got to his feet. When she looked up she could see
his erection tenting his khaki pants. “I thought this
was
the plan. You’re supposed to be mine now, aren’t you? Someone I can have whenever
I want.”

Despite his words, he grabbed her purse and then her wrist, pulling her roughly to
her feet. “We’ll finish this where we won’t be disturbed.”

His fingers were bruising and his pace was so swift she practically had to jog to
keep up as they climbed the stairs. She wanted to smile at his impatience but she
was too turned on to do more than struggle to keep up.

He tugged her into the room and slammed the door shut behind him, stalking her until
she felt the back of the bed against her thighs.

Reaching out, Stephen closed both his fists around the fabric of her old, stretched-out
top. She narrowed her eyes in warning. “Stephen…”

His jaw clenched and she could see the muscles in his forearms bulge as he yanked
on the jersey. The sound of rending fabric muted her aroused gasp. He’d done it. He’d
actually ripped her shirt.

She looked down to see the fabric opened to her navel, her breasts bare to his gaze.
“I can’t believe you did that. I loved that jersey.”

“You put the idea into my head.” He pushed the shirt easily off her shoulders and
it fell at her feet. “I think you’re right about my style, Natasha. I’m feeling a
few primal urges right now.”

Hot palms and long, strong fingers covered her full breasts as his mouth took hers
in a carnal attack that left her weak. Her lips parted and her back arched instinctively
toward his touch.

Finally.

“I’ve been dying to get these in my hands all night. I have dreams about your breasts,
Natasha,” he moaned when he came up for air. “Holding them. Burying my face between
them.”

He lifted their weight and watched them bounce in his grip, massaging them and staring
at them as if they were the most fascinating things he’d ever seen. He pushed them
together, then pinched her nipples lightly between his fingers.

Tasha covered his hands with hers and met his gaze. “Harder, Stephen. I can take a
lot more than you think.”

His thick lashes obscured his reaction, but his fingers tightened until she cried
out and her legs wobbled. She sat on the edge of the bed and he stepped closer, unwilling
to release her.

“Like that? Is that hard enough?”

“Yes,” she gasped.

He plucked and twisted and she squeezed her thighs together, feeling her body respond.
She loved it. Even more because it was Stephen.

“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt? You’re trembling.”

Tasha focused on forming words. “Because I can feel it everywhere. The firmer and
sharper, the more I like it. This hurt is the good kind.”

“What does that mean?”

She took another breath. “You touch me, and I feel pleasure. The pinch—ah, yes, like
that—zaps through me and mixes with what I’m already feeling. Enhancing it. Intensifying
everything. That’s a small example of what BDSM is like. You’re giving me pain
and
pleasure and, depending on what you do next, I’ll have more of one or the other.
You decide, and knowing that excites me.”

“Which do you want more?”

Sweet Jesus.
“Follow your instincts. You’re a natural.”

That wasn’t good enough for him. “If I was one of your talented tops, what would I
do next?”

She snared his gaze, loving the heat there. “Whatever you want, Stephen. If you’re
dominating me, you control what I do
with
my body and
to
yours. You decide how rough or gentle. You decide if I’m allowed to come. If I’ve
submitted to you, I’ll give it all willingly, follow where you lead and love every
minute of it. Unless you go too far and I use our safe word.”

“We have a safe word?” He twisted her sensitive nipples again and she whimpered.

“
Puñeta
,” she chose randomly with a ragged laugh.

“I know what that means.”

“I’m sure you do. It’s what we’ll both be saying and what you’ll have to do for relief
if I tell you to stop.”

“Are you going to tell me to stop, Natasha?”

“No.”

His deep voice lowered sensually. “And you’ll do whatever I say?”

“Yes, Stephen.”
Anything.

His legs pressed against her knees. “Then unzip my pants. Now
my
circulation is being cut off and I don’t want to stop touching you.”

Her laugh was more of a whimper as her hands lifted to obey. She skimmed her fingers
lightly over his thick erection and he hissed out a breath.

“Natasha,” he warned.

She unzipped the khakis and spread them open, looking up at him for permission instead
of taking him in her hand. He stared down at her and something—interest?—sparked in
his eyes. He understood what she was signaling. Submission.

Tasha wanted to touch him. Wanted to take him in her mouth the way she had so many
times before. Passionately. Thoughtlessly. But he needed to understand the difference.
Needed a taste of what to expect from a D/s relationship. And she couldn’t deny her
desire to see his reaction to this kind of intimacy.

His eyes narrowed. “Lie back and put your arms over your head.”

With one last yearning look at his erection, Tasha forced herself to obey. She crossed
her wrists over her head, arching her back subtly and shifting her legs, offering
herself to him.

He stepped away and fabric rustled somewhere out of her sight. Was he taking off his
clothes? She wanted to sit up and watch him, to help him and get him to hurry, but
that wasn’t the game they were playing tonight.

Stephen knew how to work a courtroom and read a witness. He knew how to convince town
halls full of people to trust him with control of the state reins. But soon he would
be in the company of dominant men who understood what it was like to control someone’s
pleasure. If he’d never experienced it, they would know.

God, why wasn’t he touching her? What was taking him so long?

“You should know I’m a sassy submissive,” she offered into the silence. “I have a
hard time letting go completely. I always have. I’m also a glutton for punishment.”

He didn’t respond.

“There are different types of subs. Some girls want to be taken care of, or even owned,
but I’m not one of them. I like to be earned. To be a challenge. I might do whatever
you say, but I’m not above trying to convince you to want something else.”

Still nothing. When she couldn’t take it anymore she lifted her head to find him naked
and staring at her body, her handcuffs dangling from his fingers. “Stephen?”

He shook his head. “Your breasts are too damned distracting. They jiggle every time
you talk.”

The devil came out again. “You could slick them up with lube and fuck them…if you
want.”

Stephen swore, moving closer and tossing the cuffs, lube and a foil-wrapped condom
beside her body. “I didn’t know you wanted the lesson to be over that quickly.”