Chapter 10
Arianna
It’s a challenge to hold my head up as I sit in the fancy dining room to eat in this most surreal of settings. I force myself not to wince even though my ass burns.
I can’t believe Dallas masturbated against me and I’m wearing his dry come on my skin. He didn’t even let me watch. I still haven’t seen his erection, even though the evidence is all over my butt.
I’m also aware the backs of my thighs are bright pink. Claire is far too polite to say anything, but Ryder winks at me the first time we make eye contact. He knows.
The idea should mortify me, but it’s seemingly a way of life in this family. They don’t have boundaries normal people have.
Claire groans when Ryder sets a glass of ice in front of her and opens a can of ginger ale. “I’m never going to want to see another clear soda again after this baby is born.”
Ryder chuckles as he pours the soda into her glass.
“As soon as you can keep more food down, you can switch to water, baby. The carbonation helps settle your stomach and gives you at least a few calories. Plus…” He leans over and kisses the top of her head.
“…you still can’t have much caffeine while you’re nursing, and then you’ll be pregnant again, so maybe forget what it tasted like. ”
She shoots him a glare. “Stop being so bossy. The doctor said one cup of coffee in the morning wouldn’t hurt the baby.”
“The doctor isn’t your husband, though.” He sits next to her and sets her napkin on her lap before tapping her nose.
She rolls her eyes.
I don’t think I breathe through their entire exchange.
It’s so odd. Part of me thinks I should be outraged by how overbearing Ryder is toward Claire.
Just like Dallas, he’s unbelievably dominant and controlling.
But there’s something about them that comes off as endearing and hot as hell at the same time.
Ryder isn’t bossing her around to be a dick. He’s doing so from a place of devotion and love. It’s in his eyes. He wants his wife to be as healthy as possible. And Claire isn’t as incensed as she lets on either. There are stars in her eyes when she looks at him, totally devoted to his wishes.
Dallas leans over and sets his lips on my ear as his palm comes to my thigh, pushing my skirt up so he can grip my bare skin far too close to my pussy. “Spread your knees, baby. Don’t make me tell you again.”
I jerk my legs apart, not wanting him to repeat himself and risk either of the other two hearing him. My face flames with heat, though, and I can’t meet anyone’s gaze. I busy myself adjusting my napkin in my lap, wondering how I’m going to manage to swallow a single bite of food.
Gretchen enters the dining room carrying a salad bowl. She sets it in the middle of the table. It’s beyond weird having her wait on me.
Dallas strokes my inner thigh as she bustles back out of the room.
“You’ll get used to Gretchen, baby. Trust me, we have all tried to get her to stop waiting on us to no avail.
She’s insulted if we attempt to lighten her load.
She loves serving us. I think it’s because it’s been so long since anyone lived in this mansion.
It was just her and our curmudgeon of a grandfather for many, many years.
She’s tickled to have new life and happiness at the estate again. ”
He makes sense, but it’s going to take a while to get used to. And what am I even thinking? Just because I’m having dinner with these people tonight doesn’t mean I’m going to be doing so every night for the rest of my life.
It’s one time. I’m under a weird spell. I’ve been living in this strange alternate universe for a week. It’s intensified significantly since yesterday. For the past week, my relationship with Dallas has only been in my head. Now, it’s actually happening, and I feel like the room is spinning.
He’s more intense than I dreamed up every night when I touched myself under the covers. He was demanding in my imagination, but he’s ten times bossier and hotter in real life.
He’s also a tease, and that point is driven home when he slides his hand closer to my sex.
I’m dripping with arousal. I try to push his hand away, but he doesn’t budge.
He, Ryder, and Claire are discussing their plans to hire people to move the oldest pieces of period furniture to the attic, but all I can do is wrap my ankles around the legs of the chair and try to breathe normally.
My face is permanently hot.
Gretchen brings in more dishes and sets them on the table. I’m grateful she comes and goes from the other side of the room so she can’t see the way I’m sitting or the fact that Dallas has a hand between my legs.
Claire knows. She occasionally gives me a knowing, sympathetic smile, her face scrunching up slightly as her shoulders lift as if to say, “get used to it.”
I haven’t had a meal this delicious since I was a child. Besides the salad, we’re having pork medallions in a flavorful sauce and roasted vegetables.
I’m not a great cook, and most of the time I make something easy or frozen when I get off work.
My mother cooked when I was very young, and later, we had staff who prepared our meals. That all ended abruptly ten years ago, and I’ve never really thought much about the meals I’ve missed out on since then. There have been bigger problems in my life than food.
Gretchen’s cooking is so good I find myself nearly moaning around every bite. I don’t think I make any sounds, but Dallas glances at me every once in a while and smiles his approval.
His hand stays on my thigh throughout the meal, his fingers stroking my skin, keeping me hot and bothered. By the time we finish eating, I’m about to combust.
Dallas lets his fingers stray closer as we eat delicate slices of cheesecake.
I keep pushing against his hand as discreetly as possible, but it doesn’t do anything. He’s too strong to budge. I’m going to chastise him as soon as I get the opportunity.
Claire’s eyes are drooping as we finish dessert, and Ryder excuses them before lifting her into his arms, cradling her against his chest, and carrying her from the dining room. She calls out a soft good night over his shoulder as they go.
The second we are alone, Dallas reaches the last inch to stroke his fingers through my folds.
Even though I should have expected this to happen, I find myself gripping the edge of the table as my head falls back. I moan so loudly that it startles me.
Dallas chuckles and removes his fingers. “Let’s go upstairs so I can take care of you without Gretchen walking in.” He removes his hand and shoves his chair back.
Take care of me … God, I hope he intends to finally let me come because I’m about to do so from the one stroke of his fingers he’s graced me with.
My legs are unsteady when I rise, and I nearly drop back onto my sore butt on the chair, but Dallas grabs my arm to steady me, his usual smirk in place. He keeps one arm around my waist and the other on my bicep as he leads me out of the dining room and up the ornate main staircase.
I haven’t been in this part of the house yet. It’s stunning. I could stand in the enormous foyer and admire the intricate architecture for an hour if I weren’t too horny to see straight.
As soon as we’re in Dallas’s room, he shuts and locks the door once again. He leads me to the bed, cups my face, and kisses me sweetly. “You’re going to marry me,” he murmurs against my lips.
I sigh. He’s probably right, but I can’t focus on that absurd idea right now. I tip my head to the side, giving him better access to my neck as he kisses a path toward my ear.
He gently grazes my earlobe with his teeth. “I’m going to take this dress off and kiss every inch of this delectable body until you come so many times you know you’re mine.”
I shiver. I want that. Damn the consequences. I want his mouth on me. On all of me.
He grabs the hem of my dress and yanks it over my head so fast I don’t have time to process the fact that I’m nearly naked, and then, seconds later, he removes my bra, too, deftly unhooking the back and dragging it down my arms. He lifts me by the hips and deposits me on the bed.
Dallas leaves me close to the edge for my legs to hang off, but his hands are on my knees immediately. He spreads them wide, opening me entirely to his gaze.
My instinct is to cover myself. I’m flushed with embarrassment. But Dallas shakes his head when I bring my forearm to my chest and my other hand to my sex. “Do not hide yourself from me, baby. Arms above your head,” he commands.
I whimper as I obey him, feeling so incredibly nervous and exposed.
He hisses out a breath as his gaze lands on my chest. I have full breasts. Too large for my frame. As a teenager, I hated them. As an adult, I realize men stare at them, and it infuriates me sometimes, but the way Dallas is looking at me makes me feel sexy and desirable in a way that is not gross.
“Jesus…” he mutters as he pushes my knees wider. “Arianna…”
I’m breathing heavily as he lets his gaze roam down my body. He stops when he sees my sex, his breath hitching. “You shaved your pussy.”
I swallow. Does he not like it?
He lifts his gaze to meet mine. “When did you shave this, baby?”
“This morning,” I manage to whisper. My heart is pounding.
He slowly smiles. “You’ve never shaved your pretty cunt before?”
I slowly shake my head, beginning to think he doesn’t hate it. I lick my lips. “I thought…”
“You thought what, baby?”
“Women often shave in books. I assumed men liked it.”
“You did it for me.”
I nod.
He leans over and kisses me reverently, right on my pussy. “It’s sexy as fuck, and the thought that you did that for me makes my cock harder than ever.”
I arch my chest when he kisses my sex again. I need more, but I’m not going to tell him that. He knows.
When he drags his tongue through my folds, I cry out and lower my hands to grab his shoulders.
He lifts his head, grinning. “From now on, I’ll shave you myself, baby. I don’t want you cutting yourself.”
I gasp. My eyes bug out of my head. There’s no way I could let him shave me down there . Not a chance.
He slides his palms toward my center and then strokes my folds with his thumbs. “Hard rule, Arianna. Understood?”
I inhale through my nose. He’s dead serious.
“Tell me you understand, baby. Who shaves this pussy?”
I lick my incredibly dry lips. “You do, Sir.” I can’t keep from speaking to him respectfully when he’s all dominant and bossy. It’s instinctive.
“Good girl. Now, let’s talk about your hands. I want them above your head. I still have your pantyhose in my pocket. Would you like me to use them to keep your hands above your head?”
I shudder at the thought, more wetness leaking out of me, threatening to drip onto the quilt. I wonder how old it is and if we’re ruining it. I lift my butt. “The quilt…”
His brows furrow for a moment. “Is it itchy against your bottom?”
“No. I don’t want to get my, uh… I don’t want to ruin it.”
He chuckles. “I don’t think it’s ancient or handmade, baby. Put it out of your mind. Set your bottom down, and tell me if you want me to restrain you.”
I can’t believe it when I nod. So many things are happening to me all at once. No man has ever seen me naked. I’ve never shaved between my legs before. I’ve never had someone’s mouth on me there. I’ve certainly never been tied to any bedposts, but I know I want that.
Dallas smiles his approval before leaning over me to kiss both my nipples once.
They seem to double in size, and I moan when he releases me to tug my hose from his front pocket.
“Don’t move.” He rounds to the other side of the bed, ties one leg of my hose to my wrist, wraps the pair around the closest bedpost, moves to the other post to repeat the process, and restrains my other wrist next.
I’m ten times more aroused when he returns to spread my knees again. I’m panting and squirming.
“Tell me if it gets too tight or you start to panic. When I restrain you, I want it to heighten your arousal, not scare you, okay, baby?”
Those words endear him to me even further. The man spends a lot of time demanding my obedience, but sometimes he pauses to remind me that my needs are his top priority.
“Yes, Sir.”
He leans over me and his lips meet mine, lingering, giving me a slow, languid kiss that melts me into the bed. I’m putty when he finally breaks the kiss to nibble a path to my breasts.
Dallas knows exactly how to make me squirm. The way he licks and suckles my nipples drives me mad. It’s better than anything I’ve ever read in a book. Ten times hotter in real life. Or maybe it’s just Dallas being that talented. Or maybe it’s the strange chemistry we have between us.
He releases one of my nipples with a pop and watches me while he twirls his tongue around the stiff peak. “One day, these buds will be long and hard, dripping with milk, and you will writhe beneath me for a different reason, needing me to relieve the pressure.”
I shudder violently. My womb clenches.
He flicks his tongue over the tip. “Sometimes, I’ll tie you up just like this and make you wait for me to milk you.”
I tip my head back and arch my chest off the bed. Holy fuckadoodles, he’s intense. How on Earth am I so aroused from his crude words? I’ve never once in my life entertained the idea of being pregnant, giving birth, or nursing a baby. Dallas makes it sound ridiculously sexy and…definitive.
He abandons my nipples to kiss a path toward my pussy.
When I try to draw my knees in instinctively, he growls against my sex and pushes them back open, holding me wide.
I nearly shoot off the bed when he sucks most of my sex, drawing on both my clit and my labia so hard they swell and pulse instantly.
His tongue drags through my folds before flicking over my swollen nub. Next, he captures the sensitive bundle of nerves with his teeth and laves at it.
In seconds, I come so hard that the room spins. I can’t breathe or think. And he doesn’t stop. He keeps flicking my clit, forcing my orgasm to go on and on. Or maybe I have another right behind the first. I don’t know.
He doesn’t stop until I cry out, “No more… Dallas…”
He releases my clit, kisses it gently, and moves up my body to rest his elbows at my sides. He’s grinning triumphantly. “Marry me.”