InformedConsent (2 page)

She would let Corbett commit the sexual excesses he’d sworn
to inflict upon her.

Regardless of the consequences.

His mouth came down onto hers, dominant, invasive,
inexorably taking control. His tongue forced his way in between her lips and
her teeth, staking out territory, claiming victory.

He pulled back his mouth, still holding her hands captive
behind her.

“I’ve waited six years for this.” His calm, determined voice
twisted in her core, each loaded word penetrating her like a knife hot out of
the fire. “I’m going to draw infinite pleasure from every square millimeter of
your extremely accommodating flesh. And you don’t fool me for a moment.”

“What do you mean?”

Corbett inserted his index finger inside the tiny gap where
the front of her bra stretched between her breasts.

“I know damn well you will too.”

Oh god, yes.

He pulled gently at the clasp, then gave a sharp twist and
the bra fell open to expose her breasts to his unhindered view.

“Nice,” he remarked, and she held herself absolutely still
and breathless with repressed excitement as his fingertips gently lifted one
breast, assessing its heft, and his thumb grazed the nipple, along with the
edges of her sanity.

The flash of memory hit her hard, and her breasts now flamed
in response as she relived the long-ago moment, that one sweet intimate touch
when he’d slipped his hand beneath her top and claimed her breast.

The one reality among all her six years of fantasies.

“I barely had time for a quick grope last time,” he went on,
apparently on the same memory wavelength, “before—”

He stopped, perhaps recalling just who’d called the halt.

“You mean, before you backed off, told me to catch my plane,
then vanished off the face of the planet, leaving me with just your amazing
piece of epistolary talent, and leaving my father short his best worker.”

Yes! Now she was getting back on track. On why she was here.

“Exactly. But tonight there’ll be no backing off. It’s all
going to happen.”

The cool evening air on her breasts turned her nipples into
knots of desire, but not half as much as his words.

“You can’t hold me here like this indefinitely.”

“No?”

Christ! The single word, delivered soft and sweet, was all
dominance. And so was his next move. Releasing her hands for only a moment, he
dragged the bra down her arms and pulled it around her wrists, relentlessly
knotting it, binding her into immobility.

A hot thrill seared deep within her at his taking charge,
but in another lightning move, he jerked her arms upward and she found her
hands attached to some immovable object above her.

Looking up, she saw with a stab of shock and dismay she was
suspended from a heavy hook screwed into a low ceiling joist. She twisted her
wrists within the bonds, straining for possible escape.

Not a chance.

Not even the chance of protecting her exposed breasts from
his unwavering stare. His clear, dangerous eyes bore deep into hers as the
impact of his intent roiled excitedly in her gut and down into her vagina.

“Okay, Corbett. What’s your agenda? Or have you thought that
far ahead?”

A coarse laugh escaped his lips.

“What’s to think about? This is sex, Calloway. Mindless,
head-banging sex.”

“Is that all it ever was?”

“Hell, girl, you came to me. Both times. Though granted, I
never dreamed you would actually show up a second time and beg me to finish
what we started.”

“This isn’t how it started,” she said. “And I’m not
begging.”

He ignored this. “As for my agenda, you already know it. I’m
going to fuck you. Long and hard. And deep. And rough.

The words themselves drew out, equally long and hard. And
deep. And rough.

“In ways you’ve never been fucked before.”

“Don’t be so sure I haven’t.” Her voice sounded weak, but it
was half trepidation, half anticipation. And all challenge.

“Ever been stripped and bound and immobilized before?”

“Sure. Plenty of times.” In her dreams.

“Not like this, you haven’t. All invasive, while I explore
every infinitesimal piece of your heretofore untouched flesh as I expose it.”

“Big words for a man who works with his hands,” she whispered.
Those wonderful hands that could build a house, or tear one down.

“And don’t you forget that I do.” His next move with his
hands made it clear he was very good at working with them.

She couldn’t help gasping, and now he put a hand under her
knee and raised it up to unfasten her boots and draw them off her, and then her
socks. And then the other leg. His hand caressed her naked foot and eased up
the leg of her jeans as far as it could.

Then he let her foot drop to the floor again, and stood back
to survey her.

“Look at you, Calloway. Not the smart-assed little tease
anymore.”

That hurt. “I never teased you.”

His fingers rested on the button of her jeans.

“These go next.”

She looked down and watched in fascination and submission as
he slid the button through the hole, grasped the zipper pull and eased it down
a tooth at a time. With every click of the zipper her heat rose, until at last
she was undone.

Her mouth now as dry as her vagina was wet, she tried to
speak, but couldn’t.

Corbett slid his hands, hard and callused, beneath her
waistband, across the skin of her abdomen and her hips and eased her jeans
down, over her hipbones, her thighs, her knees, and divested her of them,
removing her next-to-last line of protection.

Corbett. This was Corbett, baring her body, invading her
privacy, demanding and winning access to her sexuality.

“Not bad,” he remarked, with an appreciative sweeping glance
over her virtually naked body.

“You’re not finished,” she pointed out, acutely aware of the
last of her modesty just barely covered by her thin silk briefs.

“I’m just beginning.” He stepped closer, heat emanating from
his body, just near enough not to touch her, but still capable of sending
quivers of agonizing anticipation throughout her frame.

Now the tips of his fingers trailed across the slim band of
lace at the top of her briefs; her involuntary flinch quickly turned to a
shudder of anticipation. She closed her eyes and let her head fall back, but
her skin still sent the image to her brain as his hand slid inside her briefs,
feeling its way lower, seeking her heat, till at last, at last…the tip of one
work-roughened finger found her clit.

The intimate touch, barely grazing the ultra-sensitive nub,
sent vibrations zinging through her body, down her spine, up to her fingertips,
into her sexual core.

How long…how long before this whole promise of intoxicating
conquest came to a head? How long could she hold out against giving him the
satisfaction of bringing her to an orgasm with just the touch of his fingers.

As if she would have a choice.

“You are so ready for me,” he whispered, his voice husky
with—what? Anticipation? Arrogance? She’d been ready since the moment she’d
seen him leaning against that doorway.

Since six years ago.

He moved his fingers against her and shifted them farther
down her skin and hair, spreading her apart, edging between her labia. The
breath of a moan escaped her.

Damn!

A triumphant half-smile flicked across his lips at the
sound.

“I’m not made of stone,” she snapped.

“No. You’re not.” He prodded deeper, appreciatively, into
her flesh.

Her muscles tightened around his finger and he emitted a
gasp of unmistakable pleasure.

Who was enjoying this more? she wondered.

Suddenly, he slid his finger out of her, his hand out of her
briefs.

“I need you naked.”

And with one quick jerk he ripped the silk and lace apart,
and the last shred of her decency fell away.

She nearly had an orgasm there and then. With her total
consent, this once-gentle man, a stranger to her for six years, had bound her
and imprisoned her and invaded her and stripped her.

Slightly breathless and slightly sweating and unmistakably,
unbelievably hard inside his jeans, he stood back, oh so casual, his thumbs
hooked in his pockets, for a long, intense scrutiny of her now total nakedness.

Tara endured his raking look like a physical offensive as it
rolled over every crest and probed into each valley of her suddenly unbearably
vulnerable body. No part of her exposed flesh was shielded from his sharp,
unyielding gaze as it roved over her from top to toe, lingering first on her
breasts, then her abdomen, then her pubic hair, penetrating her most protected
private parts, invading her deeper and harder and stronger than his restless,
talented fingers had just done.

“Oh, Calloway…” His voice broke, hoarse and weak. His
bravado vanished.

With a moan he dropped to his knees. And leaned in.

Hell…oh god… His breath on her skin… The tip of his tongue,
hot and rough as a summer sidewalk, flicked onto her clit. Rubbed her. Scraped
her.

Thrust into her.

She squirmed unbearably against him, trapped between his
generous mouth and the rough wooden boards rasping her backside, no doubt
gouging her with slivers as Corbett gouged her with his teeth. Twisting and
writhing against him, against her imprisonment as he held her thighs immobile
with the iron grip of his hands, only increased his feral onslaught.

If I come now…
What? Remnants of thoughts dissolved
into nothing as he coaxed her, drew her magically into the realm of dizzying
desire, as every atom of her defenseless body heated and steamed and seemed to
fall away until her entire being focused on this man’s inspired gift for
reaching the core of her sexual existence with his tongue, his teeth, his lips.

No wait… Not so fast!
But she was powerless against
the tsunami of violent reaction emanating from point zero as she succumbed to
Corbett’s oral mastery. It swept over her and around her and through her, and
finally washed away, leaving her lifeless and drained and spent.

“Corbett…” she managed to murmur as he stood up and grinned
at her.

“You liked that, I gather. Judging from your comment.”

“What comment?” she snapped, a modicum of energy flaring up.

“That heartfelt cry of—I’m guessing—anguish and ecstasy I
heard just now.”

Guilty. Probably.

“Yeah. Okay, I liked it. Who wouldn’t?”

“Good. Because there’s more where that came from.”

She had to roll her eyes. “You never used to be so damned
arrogant, Corbett.”

“Yeah, well, people change in six years.”

“No kidding.” She pushed onward with this line of thought.
“You’re getting off on more than the idea of sex here. It’s the power trip. The
power you have over me—tying me up with my own bra, stripping me. The power to
decide when you’ll let me go—” She looked up at her imprisoned hands, nearly
numb from their ordeal. “You
do
plan to let me go at some point?”

“Eventually.” He reached up and tapped gently at the bonds.
“You’re bound pretty tight, but don’t fret.”

He slipped a hand into his pocket and withdrew an object the
size and shape of a pocket knife.

A bittersweet memory clenched at her heart at the appearance
of the intricate talisman.

She’d carved it for him that last summer from a small piece
of arbutus. The sight of it brought back the feel of the reddish brown wood
under her fingers as she’d fashioned it into a sampler of fanciful twists and
turns. The smooth surfaces so enticingly sleek, the ridges precariously edgy.

“You kept it,” she murmured. And he carried it with him.

“When I’m finished with you, I’ll set you free.” He held it
up as though a surety on his word, and some dark thought seemed to flicker over
his eyes.

“But first…” He lowered his hand and with a shock she saw
just what was about to happen. He gently prodded one end of the talisman into
her curls, its hard, rounded tip pressing between her labia, stroking her
lightly.

She gasped at the contact. At his daring.

He found her clitoris with a hard edge and she jerked in
stark reaction at the feel of it rubbing against her most sensitive spot.

Driving…her…crazy…

His eyes holding hers, he dragged the carving the length of
her throbbing sexual groove, both smooth and rough surfaces stimulating
wildfire between her legs and setting her edge of reason aflame.

“Oh please…” she breathed. Was she crazy? Her lovingly
created gift desecrated in this callous libidinous manner?

“Please stop?” he whispered.

“Please. Do it.”

He did it.

The invasion of her innermost private place came with a
shock of pain and pleasure. She gasped as he continued to look deep into her
eyes, his own eyes glazing over with a kind of driven desire, as though the
charm were an extension of his own body, as though he himself were inside her.

Thank heaven she was bound, as her knees turned to straw and
gave out beneath her.

He twisted it within her, its curving surfaces caressing her
even as the hard edges scraped at her, grating away her hold on civilized
behavior, turning what was left of her thoughts to pure animal lust.

Powerless to hold back the shockwave, she was struck with
the force of a second orgasm, wilder than the first, thrashing against her and
in her and around her and through her, waves emanating from the core of her
sexuality and spreading through her with overwhelming force, submerging her,
carrying her sanity and nearly her consciousness with it, until it rolled on past
her, and left her weakened and motionless, exhaling a faint moan.

She hung cold and naked and exposed and completely wrung out
in the fading light.

And Corbett stood before her, arms folded.

“I think maybe you liked that too.”