Chapter 6 #2
Except I wasn’t at his mercy. Not really.
I could take off the blindfold any time and leave Erik standing by himself.
I made a choice every second I kept his stupid tie wrapped around my head.
I really, really didn’t want to know what that said about me.
What kind of woman voluntarily surrendered control to a man?
And an arrogant fucking know-it-all one at that.
Not that my traitorous body seemed to give a fuck what my rational mind thought about him.
Just the touch of his hand, strong and sure on the small of my back, sent heat radiating through me, despite the layers of fabric and better judgment between his palm and my flesh. God bless. I was in way over my head.
Needing to exert some control and unwilling to do something as simple as taking off the makeshift blindfold, I picked up my pace and stepped just out of his grip.
This was my city and my street. I’d walked it hundreds of times before going about my business, getting lunch, meeting Meredith for yoga at Namaste.
We’d only gone a block or so—less than two because I’d only had to manage one set of curbs, which meant we were between Iberville and Canal in the block with the praline shop.
I took a deep breath, inhaling the delicious aroma of caramelized sugar and toasted pecans.
We were a few blocks from the heart of the French Quarter and its crowds of tourists, but at this time of year, there were enough people in my city to spill out of the Quarter and up the side streets.
When I focused my attention, I could hear the older woman who ran the shop selling candy to someone with a Midwestern accent.
I didn’t care what people thought. If I did, I would never have started my business and I sure as hell wouldn’t have made it a success.
It took a lot to embarrass me, but I liked Miss Morel’s candy.
I’d been known to stop in from time to time to get a small paper sack of pralines to nibble on with my afternoon café au lait.
The idea of the older woman seeing me being led down the street by the asshole lawyer didn’t sit right.
With the way the counter was situated, all it would take was for her customer to glance out of the door and make some kind of comment.
With my luck, the middle-aged woman on holiday from one of the flyover states was nursing a Fifty Shades of Grey obsession, like most of the rest of her demographic.
She’d see me walking blindfolded down the sidewalk and assume it was some kind of sex game and I’d have to find a new place to get my sugared pecan fix.
I shook my head and blew out a breath because it was some kind of sex game. The most frustrating one I’d ever played and apparently one with no actual sex involved. That should be a relief. It wasn’t.
“What exactly are you trying to prove?” I turned my head and snapped the words in Jensen’s direction, my patience frayed through its last thread.
The motion, combined with my anger, lack of sight, and four-inch heels, was enough to tip me off-balance.
I wouldn’t have fallen. I lived in heels.
Balance was my middle name. I didn’t get a chance to prove it.
Jensen gripped my arms through the fabric of his suit coat and held me in place for a moment, steadying me. The bastard.
“Easy, kitten.” He stepped into me until I could feel his body along the length of my back and his breath warm against the sensitive skin behind my ear.
“Kitten?” I snarled the word, too furious with the arrogant ass invading my personal space to care about who else might see us anymore. It was the second time he’d used the word and this time I was angry enough to set him straight. “Do you honestly think I’m some kind of helpless pet?”
I arched my back, pressing my butt against him, and was rewarded with the feel of his cock, rock hard and wedged against the seam of my ass.
His hands slid down my arms to grip my hips, his fingers digging into my skin hard enough to leave marks.
I spun in his arms, stretching up until I felt his breath against my lips.
Helpless, my ass. I didn’t have to see him to know exactly how hard he fought for control.
His mouth might lie but I made my living reading people’s body language.
There was no puzzle hidden in the way his body reacted to mine.
“That’s what I thought.” I pitched my voice low, determined to do a better job than he had at hiding my body’s reaction to being this close.
I’d never been more grateful for having the less obvious genitals in my life.
Of course, the trade-off was consistent, easily obtained orgasms, so maybe it wasn’t a great deal, but at this point, I’d take my victories where I could get them.
Operating on the assumption that a strong offense made the best defense, I stretched up on my toes until my lips brushed his.
I felt his breath rush out and took the opportunity to deepen the kiss until I felt his grip on my hips relax as he slid his hands around to cup my ass.
Then I bit him. Hard. Dragging his bottom lip between my teeth, I tasted the metallic tang of blood.
In my head, the move would make him push me away and give me a bullshit excuse to rip the fucking tie off my eyes.
In reality, he grabbed me tighter, lifting me off the ground and moving us quickly to the side.
Before I got my bearings, he spun us until my back slammed up against the wall.
The scrape of what felt like brick rubbed against my back through the fabric of his coat.
At least he ruined his coat and not my Joie silk blouse.
Then his hands gripped the back of my thighs, spreading me open and fitting himself against me, and I forgot about fabric and getting even and everything but the feel of the man in front of me.
He pressed the long, hard length of his cock into the damp silk of my panties and my stupid traitorous hips rocked against him, moving until he hit the spot I needed him most. He ate from my lips, kissing me like he was fucking me, his tongue giving me no option but to surrender to him.
I met him, tasting and taking what I needed from him, riding the hard ridge of his erection as my body wound tighter.
His hands slid from my thighs to my hips, pinning me against the wall as he broke the kiss and took a step back.
I didn’t have any choice but to let him go.
It was either that or look like a needy fool and lose any scrap of power I might be able to salvage.
It didn’t stop my lips from trying to follow his, but I managed to pull myself together before I did something stupid like whimper.
“Are you going to safeword, Alexandra?” The ragged edge to his voice was some consolation, but not much considering how far my plan had gone off the rails.
“No.” No way in hell was I admitting defeat. Smug bastard.
“Good,” he said, twining his fingers with mine and tugging me forward a few steps as I scrambled to steady myself on my heels.
Next time we went on one of these blind walkabouts, I was wearing ballet flats. Like there was ever going to be a next time. Except even as I had the thought, I remembered the way my body reacted to him and knew if he asked me, I’d come up with some bat shit crazy way to justify doing it all again.
“We’re here,” he said, stopping so suddenly I had to tighten my grip on his hand to keep from stumbling.
I had no idea where here was. I was pretty sure we were in one of the alleyways off the Rue du Dauphine but with all the kissing and manhandling, I couldn’t say for sure which way we’d turned.
There was the sound of a door opening and a woman’s soft voice said bon jour, as if seeing a man standing with a blindfolded woman in her doorway was an everyday occurrence.
Where the fuck were we? I racked my brain, searching for anything familiar that might fit the input from my limited senses, but nothing clicked.
The room was cool but not air-conditioner cold and had the light scent of jasmine layered over the almost earthy scent the oldest homes in the Quarter never lost from too many years spent standing at or below sea level.
It was quiet but not silent, as if there was something going on just outside where we stood.
Before I could pinpoint anything else, Jensen gripped my elbow, squeezing gently, and led me across the room.
“Threshold.” He murmured the word against my ear, lacing it with the kind of heat usually reserved for words like nipple or pussy.
I was so screwed. I’d spent five years of graduate and post-graduate school immersing myself in gender studies and the anti-feminist bias.
I’d done my fucking thesis on the pervasive role of gender inequality in most aspects of everyday life, and here I was, letting some self-proclaimed Dom lead me around blindfolded.
I didn’t even have the threat of the lawsuit to use to justify my behavior.
If anything, spending time with the attorney after he’d recused himself was more likely to hurt my case than help it.
I’d clearly lost whatever good sense I may have initially possessed.
With my free hand, I reached for the tie knotted around my head, pausing when my fingertips brushed the cool silk.
There wasn’t a thing stopping me from taking off the blindfold and stopping this charade.
The only thing stilling my hand was the knowledge—one I wasn’t quite ready to admit to—that I felt something with Erik and his games.
Something I’d never felt before. I’d gotten so used to trading my sexuality for power, to looking at everything as some kind of transaction or teaching moment.
I couldn’t remember the last time I’d given myself over to the pure sensation of an experience.
I don’t think I’d ever done it. Not really.