The Name of the Game (29 page)

“Up on your elbows.”

Her lids flew open and a giggle escaped. She grinned back at him. “You sure are taking this seriously.”

His lips quirked but didn't break into a smile. “Your education is important to me.” He grabbed a fistful of her hair and tugged. “Here's how this is going to work. Every time you hesitate I'll add five minutes to your test. Understand?”

Something needy and desperate took hold, intoxicating her. “Yes, Professor.”

“And what did I tell you to do?”

She had no earthly idea. She licked her lower lip. “I forget.”

He sighed, a long, exasperated sound, as he tsked. “Ms. Roberts, what am I going to do with you?”

She wiggled her ass. “I have some ideas.”

His palm skimmed down her back and he kneaded it roughly, and she had to bite back a moan of pleasure. “That's not going to work on me.”

Why wasn't he going for her naughty school girl act as the game dictated? She tried again and puffed out her bottom lip. “Are you sure about that?”

He frowned at her. “Up on your elbows, Ms. Roberts.”

Okay then, he wasn't playing around, and somehow that made it that much hotter. Slowly, she rose to her elbows.

“Good.” He straightened and picked up the book with one hand, while pressing the palm of his other down on the curve of her spine, exerting pressure until her back bowed and her ass lifted. He stroked over her spine. “Very nice.”

Her breath hitched and she decided to give up thinking and just go with it.

He flipped up her skirt and ran his hands over her round, cotton-covered cheeks. She sucked air into her burning lungs. He ran his fingers over her hip, sweeping up her back before running down her other leg. “Have you ever been properly disciplined?”

Her thoughts scattered as she tried to sort through her answer. Sure, she'd been smacked on the butt before, but somehow she didn't think that was what he was talking about. She hesitated too long and he clucked his tongue. “What am I going to do with you? We'll have to add another five minutes.”

“But—”

He squeezed her hip. “Do you want to make it ten?”

God, it was too much. She started to hyperventilate.

“Answer me,” he barked, and she jerked in shock and a near debilitating desire.

“No, Professor.”

In answer his hand started to move again, ever so slowly, ever so deliberately over her skin. He trailed a path over her ass and then slipped the spine of the book between her legs, rubbing it against her clit. She clenched her hands into fists as she moaned. Impossibly, despite the barrier of her panties, she felt the first telltale sign of an impending orgasm. She fell out of position, pushing her hips back to increase the friction.

And then he was gone.

She turned and glared. “Don't stop!”

He shook his head as though he was totally disappointed in her. “You have no self-control.”

She opened her mouth to speak, but he stopped her with one arched brow. “That's ten minutes.”

A type of desperate, panic-filled desire fired through her blood. “You can't be serious!”

“I'm quite serious. Now I suggest you be quiet.” He tapped her forearms with his fingers. “Elbows up, Ms. Roberts.”

She gulped, and returned to the position he'd put her in. She'd often fantasized about what it would be like to be helpless, with no control. And while she'd played at it, it had never actually happened.

She was always in control, especially with men, but there was something implacable about James in this moment. Something that had her shaking inside.

She trusted him implicitly, but she was far out of her comfort zone and she suspected he damn well knew it. Emotion welled inside her and she broke character. She whispered, “James?”

He leaned over her, his large frame solid and safe. “What's wrong, baby girl?”

Her fingers tightened on the wood of the desk. “I-I don't know.”

His hand stroked over her back, fingers running along the curve of her spine. “You're not sure if you love it or hate it.”

She nodded.

“It scares you.”

She closed her eyes. Right again.

A whisper in her ear. “But, deep down, this is something you've thought about.”

“Yes,” she said, her voice so thick she hardly recognized it.

“Me too,” he said, sounding exactly like the James she knew and loved.

She looked back at him. “It is?”

He stroked her hair. “Yes. I think maybe this is something we both need. But at the end of the day, it's still you and me.”

She nodded, her unexpressed love heavy in her chest, making her ache.

He trailed a finger down the nape of her neck. “All you need to do is tell me to stop and it will be over.”

“Okay.” The reassurance was exactly what she needed to continue.

“Are you ready to continue?”

She didn't understand why this was making her so emotional; it should be just a fun little sex game, but it was so much more. She didn't want to stop. “Yes, James.”

Without a word, he straightened and once again began his slow seduction, running his hands over her skin. Down her legs, over her ass, over her core, up her back until he became the worst type of tease.

She squeezed her lids together and clenched her teeth in an effort to keep from crying out and falling out of position.

He stepped behind her. She pressed back, hoping to tempt him, but he didn't seem to notice, nor did he heed her silent demands.

He ran his hands down her hips, skimming her panties down her thighs to rest at her knees. Her legs started to quiver as the elastic bit into her skin.

His fingers slipped between her legs and it was like an electric shock.

“My, someone's wet.”

Her head fell forward as he stroked her clit and a powerful orgasm, which threatened to tear her apart, began its upward climb.

He pulled away.

She cursed.

He slapped her ass, hard enough to bring the sting of tears to her eyes as fire exploded over her skin.

So. Damn. Good.

He slapped her again and leaned down. “In fairness, you are asking for it, aren't you?”

She'd forgotten all about her cute little top she'd thought would be so funny. “Yes, Professor.”

His hands started the slow journey all over again. Up and down her legs, over her hips, circling her ass, stopping to rub over her clit, working her up only to stop when she was about to come.

She whimpered in protest.

His erection pressed against her hot skin as he hovered over her. With an arm around her waist he stroked her, and she was so wet it was almost embarrassing. He whispered, “I've only just begun.”

A low sound emanated from her throat and she shuddered.

He straightened and pressed on her back with the flat of his hand until she was once again in position. He picked up the book and balanced it on the curve of her bottom and stepped away, sliding into the desk chair next to her. “Here's how this is going to work. You're currently at ten minutes. Every time the book falls to the floor, we'll add another five minutes to your test. I suggest you stay still or we'll be here for a long time. Sound simple enough?”

Actually it did. The textbook was large and not hard to balance. “Yes, Professor.”

“Good.” He turned his chair and straightened the papers on his desk, before grabbing a pen.

She frowned at him. “What are you doing?”

He didn't even glance up. “Editing my publication.”

“But . . .” She trailed off.

A tilt of the head, and a raised brow. “Yes?”

“Nothing,” she mumbled, and stared down at the desk, mildly disappointed. This wasn't going to be hard at all.

She'd expected more of a challenge. She scowled at the wood between her splayed hands.

James made a notation on the paper.

She let out an annoyed huff.

He ignored her and continued reading.

She glared at a TARDIS paperweight.

He highlighted a few sentences.

Her back started to ache from holding the position so long.

She glanced at a clock. Six minutes had past.

He didn't seem to know she was alive.

She tapped her nails against the wood.

He abruptly smacked her ass, surprising her so much she jerked and the book tumbled to the floor. He laughed, low and evil. “That's a shame. And you only had a couple minutes left too.”

“Hey!” She fell out of position as she turned to glower. “You did that on purpose.”

“Me? Never.”

“Liar!” She'd been so close to the end. “That's not fair.”

He clucked his tongue and picked up the book. “Imagine that.”

“You're mean.” She pouted, and as much as she hated him in that moment, she couldn't deny the tiny kernel of satisfaction.

He jutted his chin toward the desk. “Back in position, Ms. Roberts.”

She shivered, and seconds later the book was once again balanced across her ass.

He returned to his papers. She huffed.

Without looking up, he reached between her legs and rubbed her clit. She gasped, lust instantly roaring in her head. And then he was gone. He trailed his now wet fingers over her inner thighs. “I can tell how much you're hating this.”

She sucked in a breath. “Jerk.”

He chuckled and went back to his work.

“You can't possibly be reading.”

“Maybe I should read it out loud, Ms. Roberts. Then I can quiz you on your concentration.”

“At least I'd have something to do.” The second the words left her mouth she knew her mistake.

He sighed and got up from the chair.

And gave a whole new meaning to the word
torture
.

An hour later, Gracie cried out as he denied her yet again. Her back ached, her ass was sore, her clit was on fire, and she'd never been so turned on in her whole life. She felt insane, completely depraved, as James assaulted her body with such delicious torment she thought she'd die from it.

He was implacable.

Hard.

Driven.

Methodical.

And absolutely ruthless.

She loved it. Hated it. She wanted it to never end and couldn't wait for it to stop.

She was a wreck. Sweat dripped down her temples, her makeup a thing of the past, her hair a wild, tangled mess. She'd begged. Pleaded. Cursed him. Worshiped him.

And still he wouldn't give in to her demands for release.

“Face me and get on your knees,” he said, his tone impenetrable.

Far past hesitating, she turned and dropped to the floor, between his knees, looking up at him in expectation.

As he stared down at her, his expression softened and he trailed a finger over her cheek. “You're a good girl.”

Her throat tightened unexpectedly. “Thank you.”

“I love you,” he said, and her heart skipped a beat. “I think I've been in love with you forever.”

Tears filled her eyes and spilled down her cheeks. He loved her. Not the fun, fantasy girl, but
her
. The real her. The words trembled on her lips, but she said them anyway. Because, despite her fear, they were true. “I love you too.”

“Do you trust me?”

She nodded. All pretense of playing gone.

“Then give me what I want and you won't regret it.”

“What do you want?” Her chest so tight she thought she might explode.

“Everything.”

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Gracie's fourth orgasm exploded through her with such a violent shock she burst into tears. The tears came from out of nowhere. One second she shuddered with the most exquisite pleasure she'd ever known, and the next, she was crying. Deep, soul-wracking sobs that shook her to the very core.

James pulled out, scooped her up as though she weighed nothing, and sat down in the office chair, nestling her into his lap. He stroked her back in slow sweeps, making soothing sounds into her ear.

On and on she cried. She cried for everything that was wrong in her life and everything that was good. She cried for the business she'd grown that now seemed to be spiraling out of her control. She cried for her dad. For his abandonment, but also for the way he used to pick her up and swing her in the air. The way he taught Gracie and Sam to climb the tree by the river and jump off the thickest branch before they came home sunburned and tired, to sit at the kitchen table and eat oatmeal cookies.

She cried for all the dreams she'd lost, and the ones she'd found. For the hopes of her childhood. And her future. For her friends and brother. For all the ways she'd been blessed in life and for all the things she had left to accomplish.

And most of all she cried for James. This man she loved, who had the ability to bring her such shattering pleasure and heart-stopping joy. He was everything she'd never known she wanted in a man. Against all odds and probabilities, he fit, and he seemed to love her unquestionably. Unreasonably. With all her flaws, and even more scarily, all her strengths.

He terrified her. What he'd just done terrified her. He'd stripped her of all her barriers, all her defenses, until she was nothing but a mass of dependent need. He'd made her want to follow him forever. To believe in forever. To want to take hold of that image she'd been keeping at bay. The idea of them, and kids, sitting around the farm table in her lemon-yellow kitchen, eating homemade cookies and laughing.

She'd never dreamed that about anyone before, and as much as she wanted it, she was desperate to push it away. Too afraid of what it all meant.

He rubbed her back in methodical circles. “Shhhh. You're okay. You'll feel better soon.”

She hiccuped against his chest, his skin damp from sweat and endless tears. “H-how do y-you know?”

“I came across this in my research. You're overwhelmed, but it will pass. Just take some deep breaths.” His voice so calm and reasonable she couldn't help but believe him.

She did, drawing air into her lungs, and slowly exhaling as she clung to him. The sound of his low, smooth voice instructing her to breathe, calming her the way nothing else could.

He didn't ask her to explain. Didn't question her outburst, he just sat there and comforted her, as she continued to weep like she hadn't since her mom died.

It seemed she had something profound and important to tell him, about love and life, but her brain was too muddled to follow the thread, the thoughts floating away as soon as she had them.

She had no idea how much time passed. It could have been five minutes or five hours for all she knew, but finally she settled. The tears dried, and a bone-deep relaxation took their place. She sank into his warmth, all her limbs impossibly heavy.

He trailed a finger down her cheek. “That's it. Just relax. I'm going to move you to the bedroom, but you don't have to do a thing.”

She stirred, managing to move her lips enough to mumble, “Don't leave me.”

“Never.” That one word, so certain it settled into her heart and became a part of her as the rest of the world melted away.

 

 

James sat next to Gracie as she slept, watching her. She didn't stir. Her blond hair was a mess of tangled curls against the white pillow, and her eye makeup smudged her cheeks, but she'd never looked so beautiful. Or peaceful.

All the violent emotions that had stormed over her had calmed, and now her face held a softness that hadn't been there before.

It hadn't been his intention to push her so hard, so fast. He'd intended to give her a taste of what they'd been hinting at since they'd started their sexual relationship.

She'd needed what he'd given her, of that much he was positive, but he wasn't sure he'd done the right thing.

In the moment, he'd been acting on pure instinct, guided by some gut understanding that she needed to release all that pent-up emotion. But now he wasn't sure if it had been too much, too soon.

Gracie was a strong, determined woman. She liked being in control, almost as much as he did. She liked the upper hand because it gave her power and kept her safe. It had been part of their mutual antagonism. She had tried to mold him into what she wanted him to be, and he'd stubbornly refused to bend. Now, in retrospect, he understood the struggle between them. How much Gracie depended on her natural, near-blinding charisma to keep a wall between her and other people.

And he'd gone and stripped it away. Took her power and control, smashed all her walls, overloaded her senses, and she'd broken.

As right as it had been, as much as he thought she'd needed to release all that emotion, now that he'd come down from his high, he knew that there would be repercussions. He'd have to back off and give her some space as she sorted through her feelings. And he'd do it, because he loved her and she loved him.

Everything else would just have to sort itself out.