Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
His idea of private was taking her to his place. When she’d told him her stuff was at Serenity Lodge, he laughed and said his house was “next door” to the Mastersons’ ranch and down from the Hunts’ Lodge.
A few minutes later, he stopped her on his porch to point to the west, higher up the mountain. “You can see the Mastersons’ second floor lights through the trees. Their property butts up against mine.” He unlocked and opened the door. “That’s how we got to be friends.”
On the other side of his house, white board fencing shimmered in the moonlight. “Do you have horses?”
“Gotta have horses.” He held the door open.
He was such a cowboy. Smiling, she stepped into the living room.
The décor was rustic, with Native American accents.
In a wall of stone, the fireplace still held a few glowing coals.
A red, brown, and white geometric patterned rug warmed the dark hardwood floor.
Red pillows on the squashy-looking leather couch matched the brick-red armchairs.
The six-feet wide flat-screen TV said a man lived in the place.
Atticus kissed her cheek and walked through the small dining area, past the bar island, and into the kitchen. “Beer or wine?”
“Wine would be wonderful.” As she slid onto a leather-covered barstool, he opened a bottle and poured. His big hand made the wine glass look absurdly delicate as he handed it over and poured one for himself.
“You have a comfortable home.” She sipped the full-bodied cabernet and nodded to the black and white photograph over the fireplace. “Is that you and Sawyer?”
“Good eye.” The two mud-streaked teenagers held their horses’ reins, while behind them unfolded the action of a rodeo arena.
“We were at the Cody Stampede. I was in ROTC in college and planning to head into the Marine Corp; Sawyer was still in high school. Few years later, when I was in the military police, he enlisted in the Navy. Didn’t come out the same person. ”
Her heart ached for the innocent boys they’d been. A decade and a half later, they wore the self-possessed, dangerous look of men who’d seen death. Who’d dealt death.
And Atticus had a cop’s cynical eyes that said he’d seen the worst of human nature.
What was she doing with him? As his gaze lingered on the picture, she studied him. So tough. Yet, the lines at the corners of his mouth and eyes were from laughter.
He could be gentle.
She’d seen him reassure the little girl on the climbing wall. “Take a breath, baby.” And then he’d encouraged the child to do more than she’d thought possible.
Gin had seen his love and loyalty to Sawyer—and his ability to say he loved him.
Yes, this man was special.
And she wanted him more than she’d wanted anyone before. She frowned into her drink, and when she looked up, he was watching her, sipping his wine, and waiting.
With some of her dates, she’d felt their impatience, as if they tired of wading through the getting-to-know-you phase before they could get some. Atticus displayed no urgency, just the quiet patience of a very experienced man.
The knowledge increased her low-key arousal.
Far, far sooner than she should have finished, she drank the last of her wine.
“Nervous, pet?” he asked.
She nodded. Although the air was chilled, her body felt like a heat pump, and her stomach quivered with nerves. She hadn’t had many lovers and no one since meeting Preston. No one after.
He studied her for a moment, eyes narrowed. “Talk about mixed signals,” he said. “I can take you back to your car, sweetling, if you like. Or I can light a fire, and we can sit and talk.”
“Or we can go for the third option.” She set her glass on the island, grasped his hand, and pulled him down the dark hallway. Hopefully his bedroom was at the end of it. “Let’s get this out of the way.”
“You make sex sound like a trip to the dentist.”
“There have been—” Her mouth snapped shut. Blushing, she stopped dead, not believing what she’d started to share.
“I see.” His chuckle was low. “I’ll try to make this feel better than a long, hard drilling.”
The suggestive words delivered in his deep baritone sent tingles over her skin.
With his hand on her stomach, he backed her into a room, even as his mouth covered hers, taking possession. The minute her arms wrapped around his neck, he curved one hand under her ass and pulled her up on her toes. His thick erection pressed against her pelvis.
When he lifted his head, she was breathless.
Her skin simmered with heat. She glanced at the bedroom and saw no interesting kinky shackles or piles of rope or handcuffs. “So we’re going to do this the old-fashioned…um, vanilla…way?”
“Mostly.” He undid her bustier. “I’m not going to tie you down, sweetheart. Not until you know me better.”
“Oh. Okay.” That surely wasn’t disappointment she felt. The sensation of his scarred knuckles brushing each newly bared inch washed the emotion away.
She glanced up at him and saw his half-smile and the comprehension in his expression. He knew…
Flustered, she lifted her hands to undo his shirt. “You’re overdressed.”
He caught her wrists and eased her arms down. “Hands stay at your sides, pet.”
His voice didn’t raise—not an iota—but the ruthless quality made the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Her arms went limp.
The Dom didn’t need ropes to bind her.
Without a second’s pause, he unzipped her skirt and tossed it onto a chair. “Now stand right there, Virginia. If you move, I won’t be happy.”
Why did the growled, almost threat, make her so wet?
He disappeared to her left, and she heard the strike of a match as he lit one candle. Another and another, until their soft glow filled the room.
When he opened the window, a breeze billowed the drapes, and the candles flickered. The lush fragrance of the pasture grass wafted into the room. The swishing of wind through the trees joined the rumble of thunder in the distance.
“Storm moving in.” He returned to stand in front of her and simply look at her. She was completely naked; he was fully dressed. The contrast made her feel exposed and so, so excited. Her heart was trying to bang right out of her chest.
“Tonight, I want you to remember two things, baby.” He caressed her breast and made her toes curl. “One: I’m going to take what I want from you, and you’ll have no choice but to please me…so don’t worry about disappointing me. Two: a clear no will stop me; nothing else will.”
Her knees almost buckled. “Atticus.”
“Mmmhmm.” With a hand between her breasts, he moved her backward until the backs of her legs hit the bed and her butt landed on the old-fashioned quilt.
From a sitting position, she looked up at him.
“Put your hands under your ass.”
She blinked. And he waited. Oh. Okay.
When she shoved her hands between her still tender bottom and the quilt, her weight pinned them there.
Bending over, he set her feet on the edge of the mattress so her knees were raised. Firmly, he pushed her knees down toward the mattress until the bottoms of her feet were forced together. Opening her.
Heavens above.
“This is new,” he murmured, tracing a finger over her bare pussy. “I rather thought I saw shaved skin earlier.”
Her face felt bright red—again. “Um, yes. For tonight. Kallie said a lot of Doms prefer…bare.”
His jaw turned stern. “Right here, your only concern is one Dom.”
“I…” She’d imagined him touching her with every swipe of the razor. “If you don’t like it, then—”
“Oh, little counselor, I do like it,” he said. “You can keep your beautiful pussy just like that for me.”
He liked it. Thank heaven, he liked it. She’d seen how the heat in his gaze increased, and yet he didn’t move, just studied her.
As he stroked a finger up and down her damp, clean-shaven skin, the sensation was strange. Intense. What would it feel like when he actually took her? Her clit throbbed a demand, and she wiggled slightly.
He smiled and went down on one knee. His hand curled around her feet, keeping the soles together, as he leaned forward and ran his tongue up one outer labia, over her mound, and down the other side.
Her pussy engorged to achingly swollen between one heartbeat and the other.
He licked her again and again until she throbbed with anguished need, and then he nipped her inner thigh. The sharp sting made her jump, and her legs tried to move—and his grip didn’t budge. He had her pinned down and held open. The feeling of being controlled made her moan.
His tongue washed the tiny hurt before he bit her on the other side, laved it away. He nibbled the crease between her hips and pussy, then circled her clit with unerring precision and teased the infinitely sensitive area under the hood. The whole area swelled to the point of pain.
The strength ran out of her arms and she realized she’d fallen back, hands still trapped beneath her bottom.
His tongue flicked over her clit again.
“Oh, Atticus.” The words came out in a moan. “Please. I need—”
“Uh-uh, sweetheart. You need what I will give you when that time comes, and not a second before.”
Fuck, she was a beauty. Her skin gleamed in the candlelight, sheened with a light moisture. Her rosy nipples had spiked into dagger points with need. The cords of her neck were rigid, her eyes holding nothing but him and what he was doing.
He licked over her clit, pleased with the shiny pink pearl, fully out from the hood and straining with need. Under his hand, her legs trembled.
Time to send her over…for the first time. Ever since the camping weekend, he’d craved seeing her come again, this little uptight submissive who looked so surprised that she had needs.
With a smile, he slid his finger through her swollen, drenched folds and inside, imagining how the hot silk would feel around his cock.
She gasped; her hips jerked upward.
“No, baby, I won’t let you move.” Holding her feet in place, he squeezed his hand. Reminding her that she was under control.
And the way her cunt spasmed around his finger made him chuckle.