Total Abandon (7 page)

“I don’t know how you can say that, given . . .” She let her voice trail off. No point insulting him.

“Given that I fuck women for a living?”

“I wouldn’t have put it that way.” Especially because that made her the fuckee. Even if true, it made their sex sound crude.

“You’re into reality, so let’s deal with reality. Yes, I fuck women for a living, but that doesn’t mean I don’t care about them. I care about you, Angela.”

There went the warmth in her heart again. She’d sized him up perfectly: a real sweetheart of a man. “I care about you, too.”

“So, what shall we do to make sure you have the best sex life in the whole world?” he said.

“Actually, I think you’ve already done that. That last orgasm was off the Richter scale.”

“No, I don’t think so.”

She swatted his chest. “What do you mean
no
?”

“Don’t get me wrong. It was fabulous, but I think you can have better.”

“Listen to you. A few hours ago, you were telling me there was no such thing as the wrong kind of orgasm.”

“I was right.” He rolled onto his back, slid his hands under his head, and stared up at the ceiling. “But you know what? I’ll bet that if we don’t take a few drastic steps, you’ll leave here and go back to the sex life that didn’t satisfy you before.”

“Oh, really?”

“Yeah, and you’ll come back, and we’ll go round and round and never get to the root of your problem.”

She propped herself up on her elbow, looming over him. “So you do think I have a problem?”

“Don’t you? Isn’t that why you came here?”

“Well, yeah. Maybe.” She rolled onto her back, too.

After all her insistence that something inside her didn’t function right sexually, his agreement with her on that point shouldn’t nettle her, but it did. Did he have to play with her mind like this? If she’d wanted a psychiatrist, she could have gone to one. That wouldn’t have cost as much. Still, she’d come to him for help. She might as well listen to what he had to say.

“But maybe it’s physical,” she said.

“Oh, no. We’ve ruled out the physical. Your body responds just fine.”

“Well, then, doctor, why don’t you give me a diagnosis?” she asked, although she knew she probably wouldn’t like his answer.

“Okay.” He sat up. “You still haven’t invested your whole self in sex. You’re still holding it at arm’s length.”

Arm’s length? What the hell was that supposed to mean? She sat up next to him. “So, that’s your hypothesis, is it?”

“It is.” He very dramatically stroked his chin, as if running his fingers through a nonexistent beard. “And I’m going to design an experiment to test it.”

“Now you’re being ridiculous,” she said. She wasn’t going to be any part of his amateur psychotherapy.

“Didn’t you suggest something identical earlier?”

She threw her hands in the air. “And you refused.”

“Maybe I was wrong.”

Great. He’d gone from warm and fuzzy back to irritating. Why couldn’t the man make up his mind? “And maybe you’re wrong now.”

“We’ll see about that.”

Chapter Four

B
RENT WAS DEFINITELY
up to something. He’d dragged several large canvas bags into the bedroom and ordered her to stay in the sitting room while he “prepared.” He’d been in there for half an hour now. She’d pulled some novels down from the book shelves and tried reading them. She’d have to try some later because she couldn’t concentrate while wondering what he was doing in there.

She walked to the door and pressed her ear to the wood. Not a sound came from the other side. Whatever he was doing in the bedroom, he was doing it quietly.

She rapped her knuckles against the door. “Brent?”

The door opened a crack. “Just another minute.”

“I’m paying for this time.”

“And you won’t be disappointed,” he said. “I promise.”

The door closed again, and she stood and stared at it. She really should trust him. He was the professional here, and he’d already given her two great climaxes—the latest one the best of her life. Still, she was used to being in control. She ran her own lab and directed the research there. For the most part, the management at Origins left her do her own thing.

After a few minutes, the door opened a crack again. This time, his face appeared. “I want you to keep an open mind.”

“That’s me. Flexible.”

One of his brows went up. “Yeah, sure.”

“All right,” she said. “Can the sarcasm.”

“Just healthy skepticism. Come on inside.” He pushed the door open, revealing himself.

Her jaw dropped at the sight of him. He’d decked himself out in leather, from boots that came up to his knees, to tight pants showing off every muscle of his thighs, to straps that crisscrossed his chest. Even in ordinary clothes, his height allowed him to dominate the space around him. In this outfit, he cut an imposing figure, indeed.

“What are you supposed to be?” she said.

“I’m your fantasy. I’m your romance novel.”

“I’ve never read one.”

“Then we’ll have to think up one of your own, but first let’s get you dressed.” He stepped aside and gestured for her to enter the bedroom.

She tugged the belt of her robe tighter around her and crossed the threshold. No wonder he’d spent so much time setting up. Mirrors stood along the far wall, positioned to show off whatever took place on the bed. A vertical one stood near the closet.

“Where the heck did you get all this?” she said.

“Stashed in the closet, not that I have to answer your questions,” he answered.

She eyed him as she walked farther into the room. Besides his odd costume, he was definitely sporting a new attitude. As she went by the table, she glanced down to discover it held an assortment of objects that hadn’t been there before. More leather straps, a dildo, and a peacock feather among them.

“Over here,” he said from where he stood by the bed.

She joined him and discovered what he expected her to wear. A leather bustier with garters and black thigh-high stockings. Beside the bed sat a pair of shoes with platforms and impossibly high heels. “You want me to put these on?”

“I’m ordering you to.”

“I beg your pardon.” She stared up at him.

He put his hands on his hips and met her gaze. “I’m in charge here.”

“But I—”

He held his hand up to silence her. “I don’t want to hear anything about money and who’s paying who.”

“Whom,” she corrected.

“If I say
who
, it’s who.”

“Look, Brent—”

Before she could get another word out, he pulled her into his arms and covered her mouth in a rough kiss. He’d always been gentle before, but now he asserted himself. You could say dominated. She shouldn’t find that sexy, but the concept of
shouldn’t
didn’t seem to apply any longer. Instead of pulling back, she leaned into him, taking more. Her breasts crushed against his chest, the nipples stiffening. Rising up on her toes, she wrapped her arms around his shoulders as their mouths tangled for domination.

He won. She couldn’t compete with his strength and size. He literally swept her off her feet, making her feel dainty and small. Within moments, she’d given in, letting him take over. Such a delicious surrender.

When he had her head spinning, he released her, setting her on her feet. Her lips felt swollen, and she had to take a few seconds to reorient herself. Gentle, understanding Brent had become another person. Not just the clothing, but his commanding presence.

“Now, then,” he said. “Time to get dressed.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Not until you’ve gotten into that.” He nodded toward the bustier.

What would it hurt? If wearing a ridiculous outfit would get her more of those kisses—and one would assume, a great deal more than kisses—why not? No one in the lab would ever find out.

She removed her robe and draped it over the bed. She’d never worn anything like the bustier, but she picked it up and wrapped it around her middle. Brent reached to her back and did up the hooks. It cinched her waist and pushed up her breasts. When she arranged them inside, they nearly bulged out of the top.

“That’s more like it,” he said. “The stockings next.”

She had to sit on the bed for that, and he took a few steps back, crossed his arms over his chest, and watched her. Just for fun, she gave him a show as she gathered one stocking up in her hands, stuck her toes into the end, and unfurled the silky material up to her thighs. With her leg pointed upward, she gave him a good view of her crotch.

“You’re trying to make me hot,” he said.

“Is it working?”

“You tell me.” He reached into his pants, adjusting his cock. The snug material showed the outline of his hard-on. Large and tempting, as usual.

Smiling, she repeated the show with the second stocking. She could almost feel the intensity of his gaze on her pussy. Now with both nylons on, she fastened the garters. He hadn’t given her any panties or a skirt, so it appeared he wanted to keep her pussy naked. Naked and available for his erection. Neither of them would have to undress to fuck. He’d only have to undo his fly. No more than thinking of it made her wet. God, he was sexy.

“Now, the shoes,” he said.

“I can’t walk in those things.”

“Then I’ll carry you,” he said. “Put them on.”

Oh, he’d become a take-charge kind of guy, for sure. Would he take charge of her pleasure as well? What would that feel like? She’d probably find out in the next minutes.

She stepped into the shoes, and after a few tense seconds, she stopped teetering on the heels. They made her feet look tiny and her legs yards and yards long. No wonder women loved wearing them. She took careful steps toward the closet and the full-length mirror there. The sight that greeted her was even more remarkable than Brent’s appearance when he’d allowed her into the bedroom.

She looked like sin on wheels, with her breasts swelling above the top of the bustier and her legs clad in the black stockings. When Brent came up behind her, she stood almost as tall as he was. And she looked lean and sexy as she never had before.

“See why I wanted you to wear that?” he said.

“I think maybe.”

“I have plans for you.” He produced a metal bracelet and clasped it around her wrist. As he repeated the action with her other arm, she lifted her wrist to check out the first one. It was thick with rhinestones and had a metal loop attached to it. It fit too tightly for her to pull her hand out of it.

“I think you’d better explain this,” she said.

“I’m taking over. You’ll follow my instructions.”

“Is this your experiment?”

“It is. We can discuss the results later.” He ran his arms around her waist and pulled her back against him. “Here are the rules. Number one: you’ll do what I say, when I say it.”

“Oooh, a caveman.”

“Your own, personal Neanderthal,” he said. “Rule number two, you’re not allowed to have an orgasm.”

“That doesn’t make any sense. I came here for orgasms.”

He slid his hand over her belly and into her crotch hairs. “You’re already wet.”

“Yes, and if you touch my clit, I’ll come.”

“No you won’t because I told you not to.” He nibbled on her earlobe, and his breath slid hot into her ear. It shimmied through her nervous system all the way to the sensitive place between her legs. The place where his fingers now burrowed.

“I don’t understand your logic,” she said.

He stroked her pussy lips gently from the front to back and then the reverse. Whimpering, she leaned back against him.

“You’re going to have to give me your complete trust,” he said.

Did she have any choice? She’d made progress, but could she be sure she’d come far enough? He could be right that when she went back to her “real” life, she’d experience all the same hang-ups and uncertainties that had brought her here. Why not take this walk on the wild side? She might discover things about herself and her sexual response if she stepped outside her comfort zone. As long as she didn’t have to take more than ten steps in these shoes.

“Time’s up,” he said. “We’re doing this my way.”

Nearly lifting her off the floor, he turned her in his arms and settled her against his chest. With one finger, he lifted her chin so she had to stare up into his eyes. From this close, their soft brown color showed golden highlights, and he curved his lips into the wicked smile of a man who held all the cards.

“I get to do anything I want to your body,” he said. “But you don’t get to climax.”

He said that simply enough, but it was really two propositions. The first gave him total permission over her body. She’d never grant that to anyone in reality, of course, but this was play; if he did anything she truly didn’t like, he knew she’d report him to management. So, okay, for the purposes of this experiment, she could go with that.

His second statement—that she wasn’t allowed to climax—made less sense, unless he was pulling some double-whammy reverse psychology on her. If so, did she win the game by doing as he said . . . resisting orgasm? After all, their success required her to come often and hard. Or did she win by defying him and climaxing whenever the hell she wanted to? Could she even control her response well enough to determine the outcome? Lord, he had her confused.

He waved a finger under her nose. “You can stop that right now.”

“What? I wasn’t doing anything.”

“You’re thinking, and that’s what got you into trouble to begin with.”

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to stop thinking,” she said.

“I’ll show you.” He kissed her again with the same ferocity he’d used a few moments before. Her body responded just as it had the last time: total surrender. No, not surrender. That implied losing in a contest. Total abandon. She gave up pondering and cogitating and anything else that interfered with the undiluted sensations of his mouth on hers. His body pressed against her everywhere. Her nipples had grown sensitive to the touch of the bustier against them.

She wrapped her arms around his shoulders and hung on while she answered him with her lips and tongue. She even nibbled on his full lower lip, seeking and finding the honey of his breath. When that wasn’t enough, she dipped beneath his chin to kiss his throat, her nose rubbing against the stubble on his jaw. He was absolutely delicious, and she couldn’t devour him quickly enough. She let her hands roam over his shoulders and down his chest as her fingers passed over cool leather and his heated skin.