Temptation’s Edge (16 page)

He didn’t give her time to consider his actions; he just gave her a good, hard smack.

“Oh! Connor…”

But before she could protest her words faded away. Her body went soft. She braced her hands against the white and gray tiles of the shower wall.

“Ah, good girl,” he said.

He gave her another smack, the sound of his hand on her wet skin ringing in the shower stall. He’d always loved spanking a woman in the shower. He knew how much sharper the sensation was on wet skin. He did it again, her body moving a little, just a small undulation that signaled the pain as well as the pleasure.

He slapped her harder, and there was a small puff of breath from her.

“God, that really hurts,” she said.

“Too much, my girl?”

“No. No, it’s really good, too…”

He grinned, a little wickedly, if he was being honest with himself, and smacked her again, hard enough to make his palm sting. Her pale flesh was pinking up beautifully. He did it again. And again. First one round buttock, then the other. He was growing harder with every stroke of his hand. Watching the way she was responding: the softening, the sighs. Her welting flesh. Gorgeous.

He kept it up, the spanking growing harder, faster, until she
was breathless, squirming. He knew it had to hurt like hell at this point. But she was handling it. He leaned in and ran his mouth over the back of her neck as he smacked her ass, tasting her skin, drawing a long groan from her.

When he paused to slip his hand around the front of her body, between her thighs, he shivered at the heat of her. The slickness of her pussy as he pushed his fingers inside her.

She spread her legs wider immediately. Silently. And as he began to work her with his fingers, pumping in and out, she didn’t say a word. Didn’t do anything but arch her hips into his hand, keeping up a sensual rhythm.

He wanted to control himself. Wanted to make her come before he took his pleasure with her. But her gorgeous pink ass was so close he couldn’t help but press up against it, his cock slipping between the cheeks.

That was it for him. There would be no more self-control. With a groan he reached behind him to shut off the water. He picked her up, kicked open the shower door, and set her on the tiled counter. He fumbled in a drawer, found a condom, sheathed his aching erection. He looked into her eyes, found them wide and blue and wanting. Parted her thighs and plowed right into her.

“Ah…yes, Connor…”

Her legs wrapped around his waist, her arms around his neck, and he bent his knees so he could thrust deep. She was so damn tight. Tight and wet and fucking beautiful. He drove into her, watching her face. Her plump red mouth. Her glossy blue gaze on his. Intensity. Pure sex. Fucking amazing.

He wanted to kiss her. He wanted to watch her as he fucked her even more.

When she started to come he felt it deep in her pussy before he saw it in her face. Her lips parted, she moaned, panting in fast little breaths.

“Connor, I’m coming…oh…oh…”

Then he was coming, too. Pleasure making him shudder, making his legs shake so damn hard he wasn’t sure he could hold himself up. But she held on to him, helping him to ride it out as sensation slammed into him like a wall. Even after the orgasm had faded away he kept pumping into her; he couldn’t seem to stop. Not until his cock had gone soft and he had to pull out, to rid himself of the condom.

He realized then that they were both soaking wet from the shower, water dripping all over the counter, on the floor. Mischa was quiet, her blue eyes drowsy. She was fairly deep in subspace, he knew. He grabbed a towel and began to dry her off, holding her steady on the white tiled counter with one hand. She sat perfectly still, letting him do it. When he’d reached everywhere he could he lifted her, stood her on her feet on the bathroom rug and ran the towel over her bottom. She let out a sigh.

“Sore?” he asked her.

“Yes. I love it, though,” she answered, leaning into him a little. “I love the soreness. It’s my badge of honor. Do you know what I mean?”

“Yeah, I do.”

When he ran the towel between her thighs she sighed again, shivered. If he’d been physically able it would have made him hard all over again.

Lord, he couldn’t get enough of her. Not for one damn moment. But they couldn’t fuck and play all the time, could they? Not that he’d mind trying. But he wanted…to
talk
with her, as well.

He didn’t want to question it. It wasn’t as if he’d never taken a woman to dinner before, but that was usually as a prelude to sex. To dungeon play. This was different.

“Mischa, come to dinner with me tonight.”

“Oh, I can’t.” She pushed her wet hair from her face. “I have a meeting this afternoon with my friend Greyson and I’m not sure how late that’ll run.”

“Ah, the new tattoo shop?”

“Well, the possibility. Nothing’s been decided for sure. I’d really like to open a place here, but we need to talk more, make sure we’re on the same page. We have a lot to discuss.”

“Tomorrow night, then,” he said, toweling himself off.

“Tomorrow’s Thursday?”

She was still sleepy. Still under.

“Yeah.”

“I have a dinner with Dylan and Kara and their friend Lucie.”

“All right, then.”

Why did he feel sort of crushed? Desperate to see her?

“Friday?” he pressed.

She smiled. “Friday.”

He smiled back, pulled her in to kiss her. He couldn’t help himself. Which had been happening a lot with her.

Don’t lose it over this woman.

He pulled his mouth from hers with some effort. “Dinner, then the club on Friday,” he said, the authority in his own voice making him feel better. “Wear something sexy and red for me.”

“You’re going to tell me what to wear now?” she asked, looking up at him, one pale brow arched.

“As a matter of fact I am.”

Yes, that was better.

She grinned. “Okay.”

“Okay? No argument from you?”

“Not this time.”

“Don’t think for a moment you’ll be arguing anything on Friday night,” he said, giving her ass a playful pinch.

“Hey!”

“Ah, you are arguing now.”

She gave him a grin, turned and bent over a little, making her gorgeous ass a perfect target, looking over her shoulder at him, posing like some pinup girl.

Maybe he
could
get hard again…

He gave her a smack and she took it, then straightened up. “I have to go, Connor. You’re going to have to wait until Friday for that.”

“I’d have never taken you for a tease, sweetheart.”

She laughed and grabbed another towel from the rack, drying her hair as she moved back into the bedroom.

He’d never have taken himself for the kind of man who would be unsettled by a woman. Any woman, no matter how gorgeous. How full of fire. But that’s exactly what he was. Unsettled.

It didn’t have to mean anything more than that. And he would find a way to be sure he was directing the show once more. He’d take her to the Pleasure Dome on Friday. Maybe do a little pre-club mind fuck with her at dinner. Make it clear to her that he was the one in command, which was the only place where he was comfortable.

He knew just how to handle things. He always did, didn’t he?

He would ignore the small voice in the back of his head that was whispering,
Maybe not this time.

Mischa pushed her way through the doors of the Mexican restaurant where she was meeting Greyson Lee, fellow tattoo artist and one of her mentors under whom she’d apprenticed ten years earlier at his shop in Berkeley.

The restaurant reminded her of one of the funky eateries
in Berkeley that surrounded the university campus. It was small, dark, with tables crammed close together, crowded even at lunchtime on a Wednesday afternoon. And it smelled divine.

She spotted him and waved as she crossed the room. When she reached the table he stood and hugged her.

“Mischa, great to see you. You look great. As always.”

He stood back and she took in his handsome, familiar face, his dark brown eyes. She liked a shaved head on certain men, and no one wore it better than Greyson. Six foot three, he was all long, lean muscles, with a natural swagger that somehow seemed charming on him. If he hadn’t been her mentor something probably would have happened between them, but they’d always been careful not to cross that line. Instead they’d become good friends, and now, perhaps, business partners.

“You look great, too. You have some new ink, I see,” she said, glancing at his forearm, where he’d rolled the cuff of his shirt. “You finally finish that sleeve?”

“Yeah, there’s a guy here who does beautiful classic Japanese work. In fact, I wanted to talk to you about him, maybe have you meet him. But let’s sit down and have a margarita first. I already ordered for you.”

“That sounds perfect.”

He held her chair for her, something she’d always loved about him. The same old-world manners Connor had. In fact, when she thought about it, they both had that same tendency to take over in any given situation, a mixture of old-fashioned gentleman and that manly commanding thing. Although with Connor there seemed to be more emphasis on the command. She sighed quietly, trying to focus on her meeting with Greyson, to push thoughts of Connor from her mind, which was getting harder and harder to do.

“So, how are the wedding plans going?” Greyson asked as the waitress arrived with their drinks.

“Okay so far. I don’t really know what the hell I’m doing, and neither does Dylan, but we’ll get through it. I’m meeting with a couple of her other friends tomorrow night; they’ll be a big help. How are things with work?”

He grinned. “They’d be a lot better if I was working at my own shop.
Our
own shop. I think we could make a go of it, Mischa. There’s no shortage of work here for good artists. And I have two locations for us to look at today, if you have time.”

Mischa sipped at her margarita, sweet and cold. “You know I’m seriously considering doing it. If I’m going to have a partner, you’re definitely my first pick. And I’d need to have someone here to hold down the fort when I’m in San Francisco, so this is the only way I could even consider expanding.”

“How often do you think you’d want to travel back and forth?”

“I’m not sure yet. It’ll depend on which shop is busier, I guess.”

And how much there was to come back to in Seattle, aside from work.

Was she really thinking Connor would be any sort of permanent fixture in her life? Even if she did work half the time in Seattle, they’d both be moving on sooner or later. Probably sooner.

“Mischa? What’s on your mind? Are you having doubts about going into business with me? Because if you are, I have a long list of reasons why this would work.”

“What? No. Sorry.” She laughed, but it came out a little hollow. “I’m just…distracted.”

“By?” Greyson asked.

She waved her hand. “A man. I know. Classic.”

“Not for you.”

“Hmm…no, not for me. Grey, can I ask you something?”

“Sure. Anything.”

“You’ve never really been a relationship guy, have you?”

“Not really, no.”

“And I’ve never been in a real relationship in my life. Do you think…that can ever change? That people like us can ever change?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. If there’s something that gives you a good reason to
want
to change. Personally, I’m pretty damn happy with my life the way it is. Seems to me you always have been, too. Do you want to tell me why you’re asking?”

She sighed, letting out a long breath. “No. I guess I don’t.” She lifted her glass, sipped her drink. “Can we talk business instead of me going all girly on you?”

He grinned. “Yeah. Sure.”

“Okay. Talk to me about this tattoo artist who finished your sleeve. Because I can tell you’re already thinking you want him to come work with us if we make this thing happen.”

It was almost ten when Mischa got back to Dylan’s apartment. Greyson had taken her to look at both possible locations, and she’d liked them—either one would work beautifully. Plenty of space, good street traffic, both in areas that would attract a good clientele. And he’d come armed with information and statistics that showed her opening in Seattle would be a sound investment. There was a lot to think about. She wished she could call Dylan and talk it out with her, but she knew she and Alec had been meeting friends for dinner, and were probably either still out, or having some alone time at his place.

She kicked off her shoes and carried them into the bedroom, unzipped her dress and hung it up. The apartment was
chilly, with her having been gone all day. She wrapped herself in a robe, slid her feet into her favorite fuzzy pink slippers and flipped on the heater as she padded back into the living room. She grabbed her phone out of her purse and sat on the sofa to check her messages. And was surprised to find one from Connor. He didn’t say much, just asked her to call him when she got in, no matter how late.

She curled her feet under her, leaning back into the pillows. It wasn’t like him to call to chitchat; he must have something specific to talk with her about. Maybe he needed to change their Friday night plans?

Her stomach twisted a little at the thought.

Don’t be silly.

She bit her lip and dialed his number. Took in a deep breath when he answered.

“Mischa, hi.”

“Hi. I got your message.”

She wanted to ask him if everything was all right, but she didn’t want to sound…needy. Girly. Which was funny, since she was a total girl in every other way—clothes, makeup, perfume, shoes—except when it came to men.

“How was your day?” he asked.

“Good, thanks. The meeting with Greyson went well. I think we may really go ahead with opening a new shop. We still have to hammer out the logistics, but the business plan he drew up is sound. So are the locations we’re looking at. We’ll meet again next week.”

“And this Greyson guy—you’ve known him awhile?”

“Forever. I apprenticed under him for four years.”

Was that a hint of jealousy she heard in his voice? It couldn’t be.