Owning Wednesday (9 page)

She sighed and stretched as he nuzzled her. Why did he have to feel so
right
? These sudden new feelings of contentment scared her more than anything he could do to her with his belt. His lips traced lower, to the tops of her breasts, then he took one nipple in his mouth. She pressed closer to him, overcome with desire and unfamiliar emotions.

“Mmm. You like that.” It wasn’t a question.

She moaned as he took the other hard peak in his mouth. She couldn’t have spoken if she’d tried, even if he’d ordered her to.

“Give me your hands, Wednesday,” he said. “Moan again for me.”

It was impossible not to. She moaned and sighed and gasped for him as he held her hands hard. Soon he was using his teeth, gently nipping and biting her nipples, first one and then the other. Each wicked pluck and nibble made her clit ache harder. He pulled her hands up over her head and rolled on top of her. She felt pinned and helpless—her favorite feeling. Her pussy grew wet and hot for him. “Daniel…” She was begging. She wanted him more than anything on earth, but he merely looked back at her with a lazy smile.

“Soon. Be patient. When I’m ready.”

She moaned even louder. He let go of her hands, and she flailed for purchase as his fingers infiltrated the hot, slick channel between her thighs. She bucked against his hand, desperate to draw him closer. Deft fingertips played over her pussy in a silky, slow cadence, melting her, subjugating her senses. She touched his hair, gingerly at first, then boldly, squeezing the golden-blond strands in rhythm with the song he was playing against her clit.

“Okay now.” He stroked her, making her shiver. “Be a good girl.”

Yes, yes, I’ll be good as gold if you’ll just stop teasing and fuck me.

Finally he left her to get a condom and stood over her, rolling it on, wearing a look she couldn’t place. Desire? Mastery? Infatuation? She wanted him to take her and take her hard. He climbed onto the bed and thrust her legs open with his powerful thighs. He lay on top of her and pulled her hard against him, skin to skin.

“I’ve got you, Wednesday. Don’t I?”

“Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

His body fit against hers like a puzzle piece. She basked in the feel of his hard muscles, his rough chest hair against her nipples. She scratched at his back and his taut buttocks, digging her nails into the landscape of his body. He growled against the side of her neck.

“Behave. Be patient. You’ll get it. I know this isn’t how you were taught.”

She stilled at those words. No, this wasn’t at all what
he’d
taught her. This was something else altogether. Daniel’s lovemaking was so different from what she’d experienced with Vincent. Daniel made her feel like she was floating, even when he was holding her down. He made her whole body vibrate from the confidence of his touch.

Daniel parted her legs wide, lifted her hips, and plunged inside. She squeezed him tight, her nerves singing from the bliss of his cock stretching her. He fucked her, pressing down against her so she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t move without his yielding space and breath to her. Each time he moved inside her, she felt a strong sensation of being one with another person. With
him
. It amazed and terrified her, and she tried to shrink away.

“No,” he said in her ear. “Don’t.”

She clung to him, pressing so close that she felt his pubic bone rubbing against her clit. It was a hard, stimulating resonance against her softness. He took without apology, but he brought her with him, urging her to active participation in their dance. It scared her, the impulses and desires he elicited in her. It scared her how hot he made her burn.

“Daniel, Daniel, I need…” What did she need? With Vincent, it had never been about her.

“What?” he asked. “What is it?”

“Daniel, can I come now, please? Am I allowed?”

He chuckled. “With or without my permission, I think you will.”

He was right—either way it was going to happen. She would take a hundred lashes to feel the pleasure he was giving her now, to give in to the climax that was threatening to overwhelm her.

“Come,” he said, “and do it like you mean it.”

She came a moment later, with stars behind her eyelids and her blood beating in her ears. Each pulse and undulation of her climax seemed to take her whole body and shake it loose. Loose from fear. Loose from emptiness. When she regained her senses, he was looking down at her strangely, and she realized she was crying. Not a tear or two from the power of the orgasm. No, she was sobbing. She put her hands to her cheeks, and they came away soaked with tears. She stared at them, stupefied.

“I don’t know—I don’t know why…”

“It’s okay.”

The tears weren’t stopping. She closed her eyes, embarrassed.

“No, open,” he said in a low voice.

She opened them and shook her head. “I can’t explain—”

“That’s okay. You don’t have to. I want you to look at me though, to see me. To know that I’m the one who moved you this way.”

It was almost painfully difficult for her, but she kept her eyes on his as he wished.

He tilted his head. “Are you hurt? Did I hurt you?”

No. It’s just that I’ve never felt this way before
. Her breath caught, and he rolled away.

“I suppose you could use some air.”

He didn’t leave her, only lay beside her with his arm across her waist. He was so possessive. She both loved it and hated it. She was relieved to have his weight off her, but also anxious to have it back. He gave a contented sigh, turning onto his back.

“I really enjoy fucking you, Wednesday. I really do.”

She was silent. To her, what he’d done was more than fucking. It was ecstasy. Ruin.

“Maybe,” he said, looking over at her with a thoughtful expression, “maybe I’ll fall in love with you and marry you, and we’ll live happily ever after.”

She made a strangled sound. “I don’t know. This isn’t a fairy tale.”

“Isn’t it? You’re not a princess, and I’m not your prince?”

“I don’t know yet.”

He sighed and sat up on the side of her bed. “I don’t want to go. I don’t want you to disappear on me.”

“Disappear? You know where I work.”

“I want to have times, regular times, to see you. Nights that are mine, that I can look forward to.”

The softness was gone. He was giving orders. She sighed, watching him stand and move away from her. “I can’t do that. Not yet.”

He scowled at her as he dressed. “Why the hell not?”

She toyed with the shreds of sheets next to her. She was untied, free, but for how long? Not long at all, it seemed, if he had his way. His eyes were stormy, and his mouth was set in a stubborn line. She wasn’t free at all, and it grated on her suddenly.

“Can I just call you?”

“No. I want to set something up now. Dinner, movie, whatever you want. How about Wednesday, Wednesday?”

“Wednesday is okay with me. Dinner…I guess…if you want.”

“Yes, I want,” he said. “I’ll pick you up at seven. Don’t wear any panties under your dress.”

It was six thirty on Wednesday night, and Wednesday was preparing herself to see her lover. She’d plucked, waxed, soaked, showered, and perfumed her body to his standing specifications. Then she put on the lingerie, sheer and sleek. The push-up bra, the stockings, but no panties, not tonight. She would need a dress, though, for dinner with Daniel. She chose the style of dress he seemed to like best—sweet and provocative in an innocent-schoolgirl kind of way.

The more things changed, the more they stayed the same, she thought. Her slow preparations felt warm and familiar, like putting on a favorite coat finally back in season. As she sat to apply her makeup, her mind wandered in endless circles around Daniel, always Daniel. He’d called her earlier to remind her he would be picking her up at seven, as if she could possibly have forgotten. She had thought of little else, honestly, since he’d left on Sunday. Had she wanted time away from him to think? She’d had enough time. She wanted him now.

His voice on the phone had set her trembling, so deep and resonant, so firm. “
Have you been a good girl since I saw you last
?”

“
I’ve tried to be, Daniel. But I’ve probably been a bit naughty
.”

He had laughed then, and there had been promise and fondness in that laugh. Vincent had laughed at her on many occasions, but not very often in a nice way, more often in a way that was cruel. She had laughed, truly laughed, with Daniel many times already, and she smiled even now, waiting for his knock.

He arrived right on time, him and his impeccable manners. As she undid the chain and lock, she remembered standing there, pressed against the wall, his hands all over her. He’d controlled her, taken her. Made her his. He had done it right there beside the door less than a week ago. She tried not to look too giddy when she opened the door. Her heart hammered from the way he looked at her.

God, he was as gorgeous as ever, dressed in slacks and a gray cashmere sweater she wanted to rub against like a cat, in no small measure because it was tight enough to show off his muscles. His muscles, God. His arms, his shoulders, his rock-hard abs. She didn’t dare look lower, lest she lose it completely.

Get a grip, Wednesday.

“Are you ready to go?” he asked, dragging his gaze from her décolletage.

“Yes.” She wondered if later they’d go to his place or return here. One or the other—it really didn’t matter to her as long as he was there.

He drove her across town to a wonderful obscure jazz bar, and they fed each other tapas dishes over glass after glass of wine. She was no connoisseur of fine wine, not even close, but the wine he chose was absolutely delicious, and she drank probably more than she should have. She was flushed and excited, not just from the wine and ambience, but from the awareness of what was to come.

She was also aware of her nakedness under her dress. She kept her legs pressed together, but the way he looked at her made her feel exposed. They were both thinking about
later
, she supposed, but somehow they managed to talk like normal, civilized people over their meal. They talked about his work and hers, about their travels, their experiences, their likes and dislikes. They danced when she was nice and tipsy, and Daniel laughed as she tottered on her heels. Ever the gentleman, he held and guided her, compensating for her impaired balance. She laid her head on his shoulder, and he pulled her close. She drifted on the scent of him—clean soap or aftershave—and the warm, scratchy stubble against her cheek.

“You aren’t going to sleep, are you?” he asked. “That’s not allowed. Our night is just beginning.”

“I’m not sleeping. I’m relaxing. You’re so warm.” She rubbed her cheek on his sweater as she’d ached to do all evening.

“You feel cold.” He stroked her bare arm, giving her goose bumps. “I bet you’re cold under your dress.”

She laughed. “A little.”

“Don’t worry.” He tightened his fingers on her waist. “I’ll warm you up soon enough.”

By the time they arrived at his house, she was a ball of impatient craving. He seemed equally worked-up. He had barely closed the door before his hands were up her dress. He cupped her ass, caressing it, and traced his fingers over the tops of her stockings.

“God. Down,” he said.

“What?”

“Down, down on your back, now.”

He pushed her to the floor and pulled her dress up so impatiently that she was glad it wasn’t tight, because she had no doubt he would have ripped it to get at what was underneath.

He wrapped his arms around the tops of her thighs and parted her. She gasped as he kissed her pussy, licking and nibbling a trail to her clit. He was slow and deliberate, tasting her with broad, firm strokes and gentle teases. Daniel went down on her just as he had done everything else to her so far—with complete and utter abandon. Daniel exemplified unabashed carnal lust. Not mindless lust, though. No, he concentrated. Every moan, every movement she made caused some reaction in him. She imagined him cataloging her responses.
She likes that. She likes that. She doesn’t like that quite so much. Ohh…that makes her moan.