Chapter 9
CHAPTER NINE
I couldn’t tear my eyes away from her, this woman who’d haunted my thoughts since that first night. She was laid out like a goddamn offering, that red lace barely covering her curves.
And her hair? Fuck me, I loved it wild and free like that, tumbling around her shoulders.
Siena watched me approach with sharp eyes that had me questioning every damn decision I’d made since I learned who she was. What she represented.
It should’ve been enough to keep me away, but here I was anyway, walking toward her bed like a man possessed, knowing full well I was playing with fire.
The rational part of my brain screamed at me to turn around and walk out. My hands curled into fists at my sides, the tension burning through my forearms like I could physically restrain the need building in me.
But she looked up at me through those lashes, and whatever hold logic had on me snapped. She was a siren, and I was her willing victim.
“Real fucking good on you,” I murmured appreciatively.
My gaze drifted to her nightstand, where a coil of cobalt blue lay beside a bottle of lube. I raised an eyebrow and reached for it, letting the silky length slide through my fingers.
“Planning on doing some roping tonight, darlin’?" I asked, trying desperately to keep the heat from my voice. God, if I could tie this woman up and have my way with her …
Fuck.
The sound of her deep swallow filled the quiet room. Her chest rose and fell rapidly beneath that scrap of lace she called a bra. “No,” she said, her voice deep and husky. “But I was hoping you might.”
Sweet Jesus. This woman was going to be the death of me.
She was giving me exactly what I wanted without me having to even ask for it. Like she could read the darkest corners of my mind, and like what she saw.
I nodded slowly, considering the rope in my hand. “You sure about that?” I asked, needing to hear her say it again. I didn’t know much about kink, but I knew consent was key.
“I’m sure about you,” she answered with zero hesitation or notes of uncertainty. Just raw, honest desire.
Something in my chest twisted painfully. She shouldn’t be sure about me. Not when I’d come here tonight with divided loyalties—wanting her but still pretending this was just about sex. Pretending she was just a body I could fuck and walk away from.
But as she looked at me with that steady trust in her eyes, I knew I was full of shit.
“Do you understand what you’re asking for, Siena?”
“Do you?” she challenged, shifting so that the lace pulled tighter across her breasts.
“Control,” I stated simply. “You’re asking me to take it from you.”
Something flashed in her eyes—relief, maybe—before she nodded. “Yes.”
Her answer had me instantly hard.
I’d spent years keeping this part of myself in check.
Convinced myself it was better that way.
Easier. Most women didn’t want a man like me—one who got off on the slow build, on pushing until she thought she might break.
Who liked taking his partner apart piece by fucking piece until she couldn’t form words, only sounds.
But Siena wasn’t most women. She didn’t just want me to take control; she wanted to hand it to me. It had scared the hell out of me the first time, how easily she’d met me there, and now here she was again, giving me permission to go further than I ever had.
It was everything I’d ever wanted, and for one terrifying second, I wanted to grab her, flip her over, and take her so hard she’d forget her name. But if I did that now—if I gave in to the hunger rising in me—I’d burn through it too fast, and this would all be over before it even started.
So I reined it in. Drew a deep breath through my nose, forcing myself to stand there and remember that control didn’t just mean power. It meant restraint.
Because if Siena was going to trust me with this, I was damn sure going to make it count.
I set the rope down and shrugged out of my flannel, leaving just my white undershirt. Her eyes tracked my movement hungrily, her gaze lingering on my arms, then moving to my shoulders. I savored the way her breath hitched as I knelt on the mattress.
She reached for me, clearly intending to pull me down for a kiss, but I caught her wrists and pinned them gently above her head. I had other plans.
“Keep those there,” I murmured, lowering my mouth to the curve of her neck instead.
She arched beneath me, a soft sound escaping her lips as I trailed kisses down the column of her throat.
I took my time, mapping the contours of her body with my lips and tongue, re-learning—committing to memory—what made her gasp and what made her moan. She was responsive in a way that drove me wild, each sigh and shiver urging me on.
The lace was rough against my lips as I moved lower, tracing the swell of her breasts, the dip of her waist, the rise of her belly, the curve of her hip.
When I reached the apex of her thighs, I could feel her heat through the thin scrap of fabric covering her.
I breathed her in, letting her scent fill my lungs before hooking my fingers in the waistband and dragging her panties down her legs, revealing her to me, inch by mouthwatering inch.
Instead of tossing them aside, I tucked them into the pocket of my jeans.
“Did you just—”
Her words cut off with a gasp as I licked a stripe up her glistening cunt.
Her flavor burst across my tongue, headier than whiskey and twice as intoxicating. I groaned against her flesh, and her hips bucked. I gripped her thighs, holding them open as I devoured her like a starving man.
She was perfect—soft and slick as I explored every fold, every secret place. When I found a particularly sensitive spot, I focused there, circling my tongue until her hips began to move in rhythm with my mouth, alternating between broad strokes and focused attention on her clit.
She was uninhibited in her pleasure, riding my face with abandon, her fingers tangled in my hair and holding me tight against her. “Don’t stop,” she panted, her thighs beginning to quiver around my head. “Please, Gage, don’t—”
I had no intention of stopping, not when she tasted like heaven.
I slid two fingers inside her, curling them forward as I sucked her clit between my lips.
She cried out, her back arching off the bed, her pussy clenching around my fingers as her orgasm hit and she soaked my hand.
I worked her through it, easing her down gently until her grip on my hair loosened and she collapsed back onto the comforter, her chest heaving.
“Holy hell,” she panted, throwing an arm over her eyes.
Looking up at her flushed face from between her thighs, I knew with a bone-deep certainty that whatever game we were playing, I was going to lose.
I didn’t know what that meant for the future—if we could even have a future—but for right now, I needed this woman like I needed my next breath.
I pressed a kiss to her inner thigh before kissing my way slowly up her body, stopping briefly to worship her glorious tits.
I kneeled between Siena’s legs, taking in the sight of her pussy, flushed pink and swollen from my mouth. My cock strained against my jeans as I stared at her, spread out and glistening in the dim light like the goddamn feast she was.
I ran my thumb through her slick folds and rubbed a slow circle over her clit. “Mine,” I murmured.
The second that word left my mouth, I froze.
Shit. I hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
This wasn’t supposed to be about that … about claiming this woman or wanting anything even resembling more. It was supposed to be purely physical. Fucking for the sake of fucking. Easy. Simple.
But nothing about my feelings for Siena Bellrose was simple.
For a heartbeat, I held still, waiting to see if she’d caught what I said, and if she did, if she’d call me on it.
Instead, all she said was my name, her voice airy and breathless, when I pressed my thumb a little harder.
Maybe she hadn’t noticed. Or maybe she had, and she just didn’t care. Or, more likely, she let it be part of the fantasy: the cowboy who shows up to fuck her, claim her, and then leaves.
I could be that.
Or rather, I could pretend to be that.
I braced one hand on the mattress beside her head and caged her beneath me, my body cloaking hers in shadow.
My mouth hovered a breath above hers, my thumb moving more insistently as I drew slow, deliberate circles over her clit.
“As long as we’re doing this, your pussy’s mine and only mine. You got that, darlin’?”
Her back arched, a strangled whimper escaping her lips.
Not resistance but acceptance.
Surrender.
And that was when my control slipped. Watching her react to my words, to the idea of being claimed, sent heat surging straight through me.
My cock throbbed, hard and insistent, proof that my mind could pretend all it wanted, but my body knew the truth.
This wasn’t fantasy or role play. This was my reality.
I crushed my mouth to hers, swallowing the sound she made as my hand left her cunt to fist in her hair. The kiss was rough and hungry, and she met it head-on, opening for me, her tongue tangling with mine.
Her legs came up around my waist, her heels digging into my ass, grinding her against the hard line of my zipper.
Jesus, she was wild—hot, slick, frantic—and every thrust of her hips smeared her arousal over the denim keeping me from fucking her in truth.
My jeans were going to reek of her, and the thought sent another jolt straight through me—like I wanted the whole damn world to know exactly who’d claimed me.
Her breath was hot and ragged against my face, her hips rolling in desperate little circles as her nails dug half-moons into my shoulders. “Inside me, Gage,” she whispered against my mouth, her teeth catching my bottom lip. “I need you in me—now.”
My gaze flicked to the nightstand where the coil of silky rope waited. “No ropes, then?” I asked, my voice rough, breath uneven.