Aspen

Chapter 20

CHAPTER 20

ASPEN

Mr. D&D: Come over.

Mr. D&D: To my apartment.

Me: What?

Mr. D&D: Come. Over. To. My. Apartment.

Mr. D&D: That’s an order.

Me: *Cocked brow*

Mr. D&D: I think the words you’re looking for are, “Yes, Sir.”

Me: Why?

Mr. D&D: Because I’ve waited long enough, and it’s time I get what I want.

Me: And what is that?

Mr. D & D: I want to hear you scream.

Mr. D&D: 7pm. Friday.

I read over the messages, soaking in our first conversation in almost a week.

Because I want to hear you scream.

Anxiety and excitement swirled.

Remembering all those years ago when I abandoned myself so wholly that I didn’t care what I said or did pierced my chest with a sharp reminder of the cost.

Remembering just a few days ago the effort it took to hold back the cries of pleasure clawing their way up my throat while Lucian soothed the pinch to a warm ache.

Past and present warred back and forth.

I want to hear you scream.

In the end, the present won, leaving a deliciously heavy heat sinking deep into my stomach, down to my core with a heady beat. My legs squeezed around the ache, all the more intense since it’d been so long since he’d last tried to make me scream.

Because I hadn’t let him try.

Because I’d avoided him.

Marry me.

My heart thundered against my chest every time I replayed those words. Every time I remembered them passing his lips, I turned them over again and again, trying to understand if the muscle behind my ribs beat harder in warning or urgency. However, as if thinking of the memory was like staring at the sun, I couldn’t withstand the intensity and pulled back, shoving it aside.

To keep it there, that also meant staying away from Lucian. It meant ignoring his emails telling me to meet him for lunch. It meant avoiding his eyes across the table at a meeting, despite the desperate urge to glare when he sat next to Emily. It meant sighing in relief and ignoring the drop in my chest whenever he didn’t show up at all.

Marry me.

Since I didn’t have an answer, I didn’t go to him. If I didn’t see him, he couldn’t ask.

Except once.

Once I gave him an opportunity to demand a yes or no.

I’d lost a potential client to a larger company, and I’d been so confident and sure of succeeding that the loss knocked the ground from under my feet. I’d stormed into his office ready to snap. He’d taken one look at me and told me to lock the doors and bend over his desk. No questions asked. He’d shoved up my skirt and brought his hand down without mercy, the sharp bite of pain stealing my anxiety. I’d walked in with the weight of my own doubts crushing the air in my lungs and relished the slow grip of his long fingers around my neck. I lost myself to him covering my back with his body to whisper in my ear, commanding me to breathe.

Despite not answering his absolutely insane question, he accepted me coming to him. Despite the way I left without saying yes to his proposal, he still gave me what I needed. Despite the way I ignored his request for a legal contract between us, he still upheld the not so legal one that got us there in the first place.

The reminder that he never withheld one to get the other was all the reason I needed to say yes to going to his place. Even when I knew it probably meant my time was up on avoiding a response.

Because I want to hear you scream.

I hit send and tossed my phone aside, preventing myself from taking it back. Then I immediately darted to my closet and started picking out what to wear.

A skater skirt.

A thick sweater—one that unbuttoned.

No bra.

I was all about easy access, not bothering to hide my neediness.

And heeled boots—of course. Ones that added a few inches, so maybe I’d be looking at his chin rather than his collar bone when I tried to look down my nose at him before he controlled my every move.

I forwent driving and called a car to drop me off, leaving the night open-ended. But excusing it as the fact that I might have a few drinks and wanted to make it home safely.

I scoffed at my own lie.

When I got out of the car, I wasn’t surprised to be standing at the most expensive building in Cincinnati, or the fancy doorman and marbled foyer. I wasn’t shocked when I was told to head to the penthouse to find the man who inched his way closer, day by day, to owning every part of me.

He welcomed me into a foyer with an option to go left or right. The small area fooled me into believing I might find a regular home beyond, but either direction led to an opening that revealed the most luxurious apartment I’d ever seen.

Floor to ceiling windows that gave the most breathtaking nighttime view of the city. Dark furniture amongst light gray walls and beautiful dark woods.

“Wow. This is…amazing.”

“Thank you. I’m glad you came.”

He stood there in familiar attire that I’d seen him wear before. Dark slacks and a white button up, this time missing a tie and a few buttons undone.

The extra revelation of tanned skin and light smattering of chest hair set the blood in my veins on fire. Somehow, while I’d been stripped to various stages, he always remained clothed, which made the undone buttons appear scandalous.

I looked around, avoiding his gaze, and holding my breath, wondering how long it would take for him to bring up his proposal. I waited on pins and needles, dreading the moment because I still didn’t have an answer.

Despite forcing myself to push for an answer the entire ride over. I thought about marrying Lucian Daire and earned myself a curious look from my driver when I couldn’t help but giggle. The idea of saying yes sounded insane, but something inside me couldn’t bring myself to say no either. I kept hoping to wake up to one of them feeling stronger than the next.

“Would you like something to drink?” he asked from right behind me.

I jumped, the breath rushing from my lungs. I’d been so lost in thought that I hadn’t noticed how close he’d moved. His warmth reached between the limited space between us, initiating the game of anticipation he loved to play with me. His fingers gently brushed against the small of my back, raising the stakes as he walked past to the kitchen.

I stood still, waiting for the heated thrill from a simple touch to pass, scared that if I tried to step, my legs would collapse into the molten lava that brewed in my core. Instead, I tracked him with my eyes.

“Yes, please.”

He passed the white marbled island to the opposite wall of dark cabinets and opened a door to reveal a tall wine fridge. “Is Stag’s Leap Cab good?”

“Yes.” I swallowed. It’d been over a month, but it still surprised me he remembered the kind of wine I liked. Not because I told him, but because he noticed. There was something subtly intoxicating—a different kind of seduction—when someone took the time to notice the little details about you.

When he turned his back, I managed to unglue my feet from the floor and lean against the island just in time to watch him uncork the bottle.

My legs clenched around nothing as I watched his hands work. Apparently, I considered everything he did an act of turning me on, and I refused to beat myself up for being so easy. I could do that later when I analyzed every second of the night, but for now, I just wanted to bask in it all after a week without.

“Thank you,” I said when he passed the glass.

After taking a sip, I turned toward the open living room and wall of windows with the city skyline twinkling outside. Walking toward the low couches, I scanned the vast space. A bar and seating area to the right, around a corner from the kitchen. A set of stairs to the left. A dining room table for at least ten past the steps. All surrounded by glass.

“Why so big?” I asked. Surely one man didn’t need however many bedrooms filled the second floor.

“Why not?” He came to stand beside me and shrugged. “I entertain clients here, and I enjoy the space.”

I hummed, taking another sip, wondering if he ever imagined it for anything other than business. “Do you want a family?” I regretted the question when I saw him wince out of the corner of my eye. Did he think I was asking because I wanted to know before answering his proposal ?

God, I hadn’t even considered kids or family when he asked, and now I held my breath, unsure of the emotions rising up and dangling me over a precipice of more indecision.

“I want a place to coerce clients into giving me the best deal.”

Part of me wanted to prod his non-answer, while the other latched onto the escape from the topic. “So, do you have family that visits?”

“No.”

“Oh.” His abrupt answer startled me. “What about your godpar?—”

“I want to try something else tonight,” he cut in, turning to face me.

The irritation rising up my throat died when I looked at him. Dark promise swirled through his gaze, all of it directed down on me. Moisture drained from my mouth and pooled between my legs. I had no idea what he wanted to try, but thinking back on the list of options, I knew the possibilities were endless.

“Like what?” I asked breathlessly.

His eyes sparked with devious intent as they dropped to my lips. My tongue traced the ignited tingle, remembering the one and only time we’d kissed. He slowly raised his hand and brushed his thumb along my mouth, chasing my tongue. “I want to spank you somewhere else.”

My eyes widened under pinched brows. “Um, where?”

His lips twitched and his hand dragged painfully slow from my lips.

Down my neck.

Between my breasts.

Over my contracting stomach.

Lower and lower.

Before finally stopping between my legs.

Just the tip of his finger rested beneath my mound and pressed over my skirt, as if searching for the bud hidden between the lips of my pussy.

“Here.” The answer came low and deep from his chest, delivering its own promise, matching and intensifying the darkness in his eyes.

Another swallow while I struggled to remain still. “I-I don’t know. How will that wo?—”

“Ah, ah, ah,” Lucian said, pulling his hand away to hold it up. I whimpered at the loss. “Yes, or no, Aspen?”

I’d gotten better about not asking questions, but I never imagined being hit between my legs. It was so sensitive. Wouldn’t it hurt? I clenched my lips closed, knowing this wouldn’t be one of the times he explained. He did it less and less as we went, pushing me harder to give in completely.

Taking a deep breath, I remembered the power I held with my safe words and raised my chin. “Yes,” I said with as much confidence as I could muster.

Not once since we started had I needed to stop. And if I ever said yellow, he always paused for me. I…I trusted him.

The realization almost knocked me back, but once it came, it settled like a shot of warm whiskey soothing my nerves.

I trusted him.

I trusted him.

And I liked it.

“Good girl,” he praised. “Are you hungry?”

I blinked, struggling to keep up with the back and forth from sex to food. “No.”

He nodded. Then, holding my gaze, he took my empty wineglass and set it on the island. When he turned back, he still looked calm, giving no hint to his intentions. Were we eating or about to begin?

I didn’t have to wait long to find out.

He stalked over, bent his knees, and gripped me under my ass, hoisting me up. On instinct, I wrapped my legs around his waist and arms around his shoulders. My hair fell forward around us, sucking us into the darkness that always lingered wherever he went. Cool air caressed the skin of my upper thighs when my skirt slid up, only held in place by the powerful grip on my ass.

My core brushed against his stomach with each step, and I fought the need to rub against him like a cat in heat. I didn’t know where he was going, and I didn’t care as long as I got more of this.

Fuck, I’d missed it so much this week. I missed hi?—

I yelped, cutting off the thought when my ass touched the cool wood of the dining room table. He kicked a chair aside and adjusted me how he wanted before walking to a sideboard cabinet.

I watched with more anticipation than I thought possible. Planting a hand on the table behind me, I took in his muscles straining against the thin material of his shirt. God, every part of him exuded power, and I hesitated less and less to give into it.

He stood tall and turned, gripping a long pole with cuffs on either end, and a familiar rope. I parted my lips, a flood of questions waiting on my tongue, but I swallowed them back. Instead, I went for playful, hoping to settle my nerves. “Most people keep their fine China in their dining room and here you are pulling out sex toys.”

“The fine China is on the other side.”

“Oh.” I cocked my brow. “And do you have sex toys hidden in every room?”

He smirked. “No. I was hopeful tonight that I’d need these and prepared for the best.”

“Arrogant bastard,” I muttered playfully.

My knees brushed his hips while he looked down at me with no regret for being the exact name I called him. “I’d go with confident,” he rebutted.

Before I could get another word in, he gripped my knees and jerked them apart. The pressure of his thumb dragged all the way down my calf as he dropped to his knees. He placed gentle kisses against the red blemishes left behind by his rough fingers while sliding off my boots and strapping a soft cuff around each ankle.

Don’t ask. Don’t ask. Don’t ask.

Lose yourself in the moment.

A million questions clamored for freedom, but I bit them back. Instead, focusing on his lush lips and wet tongue against the inside of my leg. I focused on his calloused hands brushing against my skin. I listened to the soft clink of the buckles against the bar.

The sounds and movement stopped. Warm breaths puffed against the damp skin he left behind and everything stopped. Clenching my fists, I forced myself to hold still and wait him out.

Don’t. Ask.

Then he stood.

With the bar in his hand.

Pulling up, up, up and sending my body back.

My hands smacked back against the table to support myself as he jerked the bar and my feet high enough to hook my heels against the edge of the table.

I gave an inelegant yelp and snapped my knees closed as much as I could with my ankles forced apart.

“Ah, ah, ah, princess.” His light reprimand contradicted the sharp shove of his hands against my knees, pushing them wide.

I fell back to my elbows and panted, breathless under the onslaught of the unknown.

“Stay,” he ordered, holding my legs apart. Despite my skirt sliding up to my hips, exposing my panties, he didn’t look away from my face, and I latched onto the odd, dark comfort in his gaze.

“Good girl,” he praised, letting go to grab the rope.

The warmth that phrase sent through me always made me question my sanity, but it spread too quickly for me to care for long.

“I’m going to use a softer rope than we used at the club. The point is to hold you open, not necessarily the sensation of the rope against your skin. Although, it will add to the experience. What’s your safe word?”

“Red, Sir,” I answered softly.

He spent the next ten minutes coiling the rope around the table and my thighs. His fingers lingered with gentle grazes against various spots along my legs, pulling gasps and breathy whimpers at every touch.

With the rope first looped around the pole holding my ankles apart, he wrapped each end around a leg of the table before bringing it back up on either side of me. He slid the smooth material around my hips to create a simple pattern before returning back under the table with a final knot. When I couldn’t scoot backward or forward, he went to work with another rope, coiling three loops around my thigh and calf to hold them tightly together with my knees bent. Finally, he slipped the rope through the top bond of one leg and dragged it under the table to repeat the process to the other leg. Each end of the rope laid over the side of the table at my hips, where he tugged them back to where he started, around the pole.

Gripping the two leads, he held my gaze and jerked them tight, snapping my knees further apart from where they started to relax closed. He’d bound the lower half of my body to the table with my knees bent, spread wide, and unable to move.

“I wonder, princess,” he started, his eyes stroking down my body to between my legs. “How far will you let me pry these pretty thighs apart?”

I swallowed and struggled to collect my thoughts, pushing back the need to beg him to soothe the growing ache he always managed to create, because it wasn’t the answer he wanted. With a deep breath, I gave him the answer he needed—the only answer that mattered. “As far as you need, Sir.”

His eyes blazed and his jaw clenched.

Bigger.

He grew bigger with each ounce of my submission and watching him absorb the power I willingly gave only enhanced my desires for more, more, more.

Another jerk to the rope, and my legs snapped open to their limits, muscles straining where my thighs met my hips. I whimpered, and he hesitated until he noticed my hips push against the air. With a knowing smile, he tied the last knot to hold me in place—freeing his hands to do whatever he wanted.

He stood back and stared, eyeing me like a feast he didn’t know where to start at. His gaze stroked my skin like a physical touch, setting fire to every inch. The perfect contradiction to the cool air flowing between my damp thighs. Without looking away or making a noise, he unfastened the buttons at his wrist and rolled up his sleeves, baring tanned forearms. The veins enhancing the flex of each muscle, leading down to fingers, I grew to ache for any way I could get. Soft, hard, rough, gentle.

Air stuttered in my chest when he closed the gap between us, resting his palms against my knees before sliding down to my panties. His fingers curled into the waist of the black lace and jerked. I yelped from both surprise and the bite of pain.

“Those were expensive,” I reprimanded. Or attempted to. It fell flat on a breathy moan, the sting fading to heat flooding my core.

He leaned forward, bracing himself on either side of my hips, and blocked out the lights, swallowing me into his shadows. “I don’t give a shit,” he said with a tip of his lips. “Use daddy’s money to buy yourself another pair, princess.”

I clamped my jaw tight, blocking the small gasps of air his curated anticipation left me with. Pressing to my hands from my elbows, I leaned into his space. I did it with the intention of pushing back against his control, hoping it pissed him off the way his words pissed me off. Maybe that was his intention all along.

He quirked a brow, and I narrowed my eyes. “Fuck you,” I whispered so close to his mouth, I knew the curse caressed his lips.

I kept my eyes glued to the dark pools of his, hoping to catch a glimpse of him losing control—a spark to let me know I hit my mark. Instead, they grew darker, and a low rumbled laugh vibrated the space between us.

“Not quite yet,” he taunted. “ Princess .”