Natalie Acres (8 page)

She moistened her lips and looked up at him with great expectation stamped in her expression. Lowering his lips to hers, he entered her mouth with easy precision, rolling his tongue over hers like a cascading, gentle tide.

When she released a breathless moan, he drew back, determined to take things slow regardless of his body’s response to the contrary. The lust-filled haze returned, that unparalleled desire he’d felt on that blissful Valentine’s night when they’d danced until dawn, long after the club had closed and Clink’s patrons had left the building.

“Kiss me again, please,” she whispered.

“What would you do for another?” Wyatt asked, focusing on the dark spiral-like curls framing her face.

“What would you like?”

He relaxed against his seat then, determined to make her barter for the next kiss. “Today at the club, we were in the middle of a discussion before Jason interrupted us. We were talking about your sister and Mitch.”

She blushed.

“Good. You clearly remember where we left off.”

“I don’t want to discuss Trixie and Mitch. They were fucking in the parking lot. What else is there to say?”

“Whatever you want,” he suggested, feeling comfortable enough to play this another way. “Tell me what you were thinking while you were there with me, watching them—or not watching them as you claimed earlier—fuck.”

“This is—”

“Too odd for first-date conversation?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you. You’re fascinated now like you were earlier today. You weren’t at all disgusted.” He paused before he added, “So what were you thinking about?”

She straightened her back against the leather seat and uncrossed her legs. “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

“Try me.”

“All right.” She shifted again, this time bending her knee slightly toward him. “I was thinking about my morning, before I arrived at the club.”

“What about this morning?”

“Are you sure you want to hear about it?”

“Does it have something to do with Jason?”

“Yes,” she replied. “Does that bother you?”

Immensely
. “Go on.”

“I fucked him this morning,” she said unabashedly.

Damn. He hadn’t seen that one coming. He tried to act unmoved by the fact, but the news stung. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’d imagined her lusting after him, waiting for him.

Her confession tarnished his ego all to hell.

“And that’s what you were thinking about while your sister was getting plowed in the parking lot?”

She frowned.

He should’ve apologized for the way he’d worded that event, but he couldn’t bring himself to smooth things over.

“I was thinking about Trixie’s good fortune. She’s loved. She’s cherished. She knows what she wants and will do anything she can to please her men because they make her happy. Mitch, Brock, and Rory make her complete.”

Jason obviously hadn’t done the same for her.

“And there’s more.” She gulped. “You’ll think I’m twisted and maybe that thought process will be somewhat accurate after what I reveal, but since you’re forward enough to ask, I’m willing to tell you what was going through my mind.”

Her body went rigid. Her nipples speared the lace she wore. The protruding points grazed the material enough to show their true shape and leave a nice impression.

She took a deep breath. “I fucked Jason this morning after spending the night bound to his bed with him passed out between my legs.”

“What?” Good God. Neely gave new meaning to
asshole
.

“It’s as bad as it seems,” she continued. “I was bound to his bed and he was passed out between my legs for several hours.”

“So when he woke up, you fucked him?”

“Yes,” she admitted. “It was quite easy to do. I closed my eyes and pretended he was you.”

A stormy, lust-driven kiss followed her intimate disclosure. Jason would’ve considered her admission the ultimate betrayal.

Kimberly didn’t care. She had known when she’d left him. She was finally over him. She was finished with the Kimberly-Jason saga.

When their lips parted, Wyatt reached for the bottle of champagne and replenished their glasses. “There’s more to tell and I want to hear all of it.”

Kimberly took a sip of alcohol and let the bubbly sensation wash across her tongue. She hadn’t thought of the consequences, but she should’ve guessed Wyatt would want a few more details.

“I have a hard-on for specifics.”

Her pussy clenched at the thought. She bit back a smile as she imagined him erect, pulsing at her entrance, demanding to know more. She wondered. If she were handcuffed to his bed, would he threaten to punish her if she didn’t reenact her earlier daydreams?

“This is our first date,” she reminded him, refusing to give her fantasies the upper hand.

“Do you think it will be our last?” His firm jaw set in a line of determination. He wasn’t about to let the topic die.

“I’m not comfortable telling you anything more than what I’ve already shared.”

A slight sneer revealed awesome tales. Wyatt was a man who was used to taking what he wanted. He enjoyed submissive women, but he liked them best when they followed his every wish, his every command.

In that moment, she realized she had a decision to reach. She had a choice to make.

Did she want to continue life as a submissive woman, or did she want to try living a vanilla life?

“You have that right,” he told her, casually sliding his arm on the leather rest between them.

“And it feels exhilarating.”

“But for how long?” he asked, dragging his finger from her wrist to her elbow. “How long would you enjoy keeping those fantasies to yourself? Moreover, would it benefit you to keep those secrets from me?”

Not at all—he made a valid point. She shivered under his touch and decided on a compromise. “Do you like to trade information?”

He laughed. “You’re the little negotiator of the family. Aren’t you?”

“It’s one of the reasons why I don’t get along with one of my fathers. We’re too much alike.”

“Which dad?” Wyatt asked.

“Kane.”

He frowned. “There’s more to the feud between you and your dad than you’re willing to talk about.”

“He doesn’t like Jason.”

“So I’ve heard,” Wyatt admitted. “I don’t like Jason.”

“Why?” she asked, cocking her head.

“We were talking about trading information,” he reminded her, changing the subject.

Now she wanted to barter for something else, but she understood the game of giving and taking. She couldn’t gain one thing without swapping something of value. She carefully weighed if she wanted to know what his intentions were or why he didn’t like Jason. Finally, she asked, “Do you only date submissive women?”

“Yes,” he replied. “I’ve responded. Now tell me how you imagined us together.”

“Is that what I said?”

“Don’t play games with me, Kimberly.” His eyes darkened. Every muscle in his body seemed to visibly tense.

Kimberly found his brooding persona completely irresistible. She wanted to bottle up that natural sexual prowess, savor it like fine wine, and use it to her advantage.

He averted his eyes and stared straight ahead, seemingly content to focus on the black privacy glass separating them from the chauffeur. She wondered what he was thinking but didn’t dare to ask.

After a few minutes of uncomfortable silence, she cleared her throat and said, “I pictured us together sexually.”

“I gathered that much.”

Shit. Why the hell had she been so honest with him? What had she hoped to gain?

“Can I ask another question first?”

“You just did.”

Ignoring that fact, she asked, “What are your intentions? Why did you go to this much trouble for a first date? Why rent a limo? Why are we going to Columbia?”

He gave her his undivided attention then. “Let me sum it up for you the best way I know how. I intend to show you the difference between a Dominant who doesn’t respect his submissive, much less care for her, and a Dominant whose life’s purpose is to take care of his submissive partner.

“Women have many layers. A man who realizes that from the start is able to touch and tantalize every sensation she feels, every last emotion. He is perfectly in tune with his woman’s body. Her feelings matter to him.
She
matters to him.

“He is
her
perfect lover and attentive to her every need. In the bedroom and beyond, he makes her crazy for him, but before he satisfies her sexually, he earns the right to own that satisfaction, realizing only then will she ever feel complete.”

Kimberly was certain she’d stopped breathing. She stilled against his words, under what seemed like a passionate promise. Only when her pulse returned to a normal beat was she able to say, “I pictured you loving me.”

“And I will, Kimberly. As sure as I’m sitting here, that’s one task I am one hundred percent committed to as a man and as a Dominant partner.”

Her vague statement hadn’t seemed to bother Wyatt, but Kimberly wasn’t an idiot. Her refusal to elaborate hadn’t gone unnoticed, and at some point during the evening, they’d return to the subject.

Wyatt had already proven he didn’t have a short memory. Maybe it was some kind of game he played.

On second thought, a man like Wyatt probably wouldn’t play games. Using the art of seduction, however, was another story. He was obviously good at enticing a woman. He enjoyed the chase and the foreplay.

She shot him a sideways glance as the limousine pulled through wrought-iron gates leading to a winding driveway straight up a narrow incline. At the top of the hill, they discovered a stately brick home overlooking the city of Columbia. With a number of spotlights aimed at the porch, the house was lit up like a museum.

“There aren’t that many cars here,” she said, turning to look behind them.

“There weren’t that many people invited. Most guests arrived by limo.”

“Who’s the host?”

His lips twitched. “Sebastian Ketchum.”

“Should the name mean something to me?”

Wyatt stroked his chin. “I think the name will mean something to you in the future.”

Bewildered, Kimberly grabbed her clutch-style purse and tucked the small black-beaded bag under her arm. “You’re not planning to tell me anything more. Are you?”

“No,” he replied, reaching for her hand. “Some things are better left unsaid. Besides, this experience promises more than either of us can contemplate.”

“He’s in the lifestyle?”

Wyatt glanced out the window. “He’s wealthy, yes.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

Wyatt chuckled. God, she loved that throaty laugh of his.

“He is in the lifestyle.” Wyatt stepped out of the car when the chauffeur opened the door.

Helping her exit the limousine, he immediately bracketed his arm around her waist. She shivered against him as the cool night air brushed against her bare nape like an indulgent lick.

Wyatt drew her closer. “There’s no reason to worry. You’re with me.”

Maybe that was why she felt significant angst in the spring air. Wyatt had made no bones about his intentions. He wanted her and he hadn’t danced around the subject. He was direct, far more forthcoming than any other man she’d known in the past.

She thought about those men for a minute. It didn’t take long to count them. Jason had dominated her time since she’d been barely legal. He’d demanded her attention. As an ounce of regret weighted down her shoulders, she defied the little voice inside her head. She wouldn’t take another step forward until she was certain she could leave the past behind.

Stalling at the sidewalk, she looked up at Wyatt. “I may need a minute.”

As if he understood, Wyatt said, “Don’t live your life with regrets, Kimberly. The past educates us. History teaches us even without our awareness. Enter this experience with an open mind. You’ll leave with a new realm of understanding.”

* * * *

The darkness provided Sebastian the opportunity to watch without their knowledge. Kimberly was as beautiful as he remembered, and she’d matured. He could tell by the way she carried herself.

Good for her, he mused, wondering if her confidence was a front. Jason Neely was known for taking women under his wing at a young age and destroying them, teaching them his version of Domination and submission and leaving them forever ruined for any other Dom.

Sebastian’s heart skipped an extra beat when she continued toward the house. He’d installed additional spotlights for this very reason. He wanted a chance to stare at the woman who would soon become the last submissive he’d ever take to his bed.

Crossing one arm over his chest, he placed his fist under his chin and used his arm to support his elbow. Good God, she was remarkable. Her hair was piled on top of her head with loose curls framing her face and gently bouncing at her neck.