WrappedAroundYourFinger (4 page)

She heard a low whistle from the front porch.

“Nice dress you got there.”

“I like to think so.” She closed the hatch then turned to
see Banner standing in the doorway. She paused for a second. Hunger burned
bright in his blue eyes and she didn’t think it was because he was looking at
her car. The head to toe treatment he gave her made her stomach do a little
dance. Funny how all her doubts flew straight out of her head with just one
look from him.

He was a sight standing there shirtless in a pair of striped
pajama pants worn low on his narrow hips. Holy hell, a girl could do a week’s
worth of laundry on those abs of his. A light dusting of dark hair curled
between his sculpted pecs and trailed from his navel down below the waist of
his pants. She so wanted to see where that trail ended.

“Enjoying the view?”

Her gaze flew to his face as heat flooded hers. Great, there
she went with the blushing again. She really had to stop doing that. “Actually
yes. Good morning, Banner.”

“I’m rather enjoying the view myself. You look beautiful
this morning. Let’s get you inside and settled.” He loped off the porch and
over to where she stood. When he bent down to pick up her bags she saw that his
back was covered in traditional Japanese tattoos. He was just one surprise
after another.

“After you,” he said with a nod toward the door.

She headed into the house with Banner behind her. The
interior was no less impressive than the outside. Her heels clicked on the pale
hardwood floor as she walked into the living room. Everything was so open. At
first glance there didn’t appear to be a back wall, but she noticed tracks for
what must have been quite a few sections of a sliding glass door that
disappeared into the wall to the left.

He had an eclectic mix of furnishings. Looking at it piece
by piece, they didn’t seem to go together. The bone-colored, retro-style sofa
and loveseat didn’t quite fit with the jade antique Chinese cabinet that stood
against the far wall. The rustic scarred wood of the heavy square coffee table
didn’t match the more modern glass end tables. Splashes of colors could be seen
in the large embroidered throw pillows and flowering plants that were scattered
about the room.

Floor to ceiling bookcases filled one entire wall and a
plasma television took up a decent portion of the other. An old paddle fan spun
lazily as it hung from its perch high on the ceiling. All of these things
shouldn’t have fit together, but somehow they were perfect. It struck her that
nothing was here by mistake. Everything had been carefully collected.

Wow. She really had no idea who this man was at all.

“The bedroom is to the left,” he told her.

“Oh, okay.” Would she be staying with him? She
felt…decidedly okay about that. It had been a long time since she’d slept next
to a man. A big part of her looked forward to that, which was probably why she
wasn’t as freaked out about this as she should have been. That and there were
no relational expectations with this arrangement. Three days to fulfill her
submissive fantasies then she’d be back to her regularly scheduled life. No
heart risks. That was a good thing too, because she was done with that.

She turned left and headed down a short hallway to a set of
double doors. When she placed her hands on the levers she stopped cold, seized
by a rush of anxiety. She was very aware of Banner’s presence right behind her
and of the fact they were about to walk into his bedroom. Had he planned to
show her around or was this where their torrid kinky affair would begin?

“Open the doors, Indie,” Banner ordered.

One soft command and her panic eased. She obeyed him just
like that, flinging the doors wide. He was right. There was a submissive inside
her. The idea of being dominated had created a longing she’d never known what
to do with. The anticipation of learning firsthand what it would be like was
its own special form of torture. It suddenly became clear in that moment that
the world would be different for her after this. There would be no going back.
Already she’d begun to see things differently and they hadn’t even started.

Banner’s hands grasped her shoulders from behind. The second
he touched her, she automatically relaxed against him and his strong arms
wrapped around her. His strength and warmth, caging her in like that, felt
safe. It felt right. It felt so damn good. She hadn’t realized how starved
she’d been for human touch.

“That’s my girl,” he said, kissing the top of her head. “You
okay?”

“Yeah, I think I am,” she replied as she looked around. So
this was Banner Faust’s bedroom. Beautiful, but it seemed a little sparse
compared to the living area. Why was that?

The two far walls of the room were made entirely of glass
and so seamlessly put together she had to strain to see where they met in the
corner. A large pond with water lilies, koi fish and a small fountain bubbled
just outside. The huge platform bed sitting in the middle of the room was understated
yet elegant. The wall across from it held a long mirror that reflected not only
the furniture but the view of the outside. It gave the illusion that the bed
was in the middle of the outdoors, not inside a house. Though she couldn’t see
a hint of the neighborhood beyond the rainforest he called a backyard, she felt
incredibly exposed.

“Is the whole house this open?” she asked.

“Pretty much. I like my privacy, but I need to feel like I’m
not shut in.”

In a strange way it made sense.

He let her go then hefted her luggage over to the huge
walk-in closet. Indie peered down the little hallway next to it. From what she
could see, it was a huge bathroom with a large sunken tub. She would kill for a
bath like that.

“These are awfully heavy,” he said, setting her bags down.

“You didn’t really expect me not to bring any clothes. Did
you?”

“I expected you to pack light, not your entire wardrobe,” he
said, his tone casual.

“Oh that there? Not even close to my wardrobe. I have a
serious weakness for pretty things.” Flirtatiously using every curve, she
sauntered over to him. They didn’t call it a wiggle dress for nothing.

“Mmm, I suppose we’ll have to remedy that.” He held out a
hand. “Dress.”

She deflated. “What?”

“Take off your dress, Indigo.”

No. She and Aimee had spent hours last night planning the
perfect outfit for this morning. She wouldn’t even get to wear it for thirty
minutes? She itched to glare at him and stomp her foot, but remarkably kept it
in check. Following orders was a bit harder when it involved something she
didn’t want to do.

Her resistance must have shown on her face because he
frowned as he looked at her.

“You look lovely and I appreciate the effort, but you still
need to hand me the dress. Not all punishments involve spankings, Indigo,” he said
with a smug grin.

He was enjoying this! Her clothes, makeup, high heels, they
were her armor. She felt like a goddess when she was made up. She felt in
control. And Banner knew it. Damn him. She’d almost rather be spanked.

With a huff, she took of the gorgeous blue dress and handed
it to him. The look on his face when he saw what she wore underneath had been
worth the cost of her dress. She knew she looked damn good in her corset.

“Because you and I are just learning about each other, I’ll
overlook the attitude for now. I’ll need your undergarments and shoes as well,”
he said, his gaze a narrow blend of heat and hunger.

Attitude? She’d give him—

Oh God, she was acting like a total brat. Some submissive
she was.

“I’m sorry,” she said as she began to unlace her corset.
Submitting to someone else’s will wasn’t as easy as she’d originally thought.

The corset nearly did Banner in. It took every ounce of his
control to keep from fucking her right there in the closet. She was so damn
beautiful he didn’t know whether to stare at her or kiss her. Excitement
colored her porcelain skin and glittered in her violet eyes as she unfastened
her corset. Her ebony, blue-streaked hair had been curled and shined like satin
about her shoulders. She finished undressing and handed him the rest of her
things with a mournful sigh.

“Good girl,” he said as he placed them on a shelf in the
closet. He knew she thought he had punished her for not listening to him about
packing. And partially he had. But stripping her down also served to allow him
what he really wanted; to recapture the vulnerable, responsive woman from last
night.

Her fiery attitude concerning her dress had been very
interesting and very telling. She had a specific style with her retro dress,
heavy makeup and high heels. Combine that with her modeling career and he’d say
she used her image to create a wall between herself and everyone else. After
he’d realized she’d packed for three weeks instead of three days, he knew he’d
get to the genuine Indigo much faster if she didn’t have her clothes to hide
behind.

“Is there a hair tie somewhere in all this?” He gestured to
her things.

“Yes.” She bent down and rummaged through her cosmetics bag
then stood and presented him with an elastic.

“Good. The bathroom is that way. Put your hair up and use
the washcloth next to the sink to clean your face. You can come back out here
when you’re finished.”

She stared at him as if he’d just sprouted horns and a tail.
“You want me to wash the makeup off my face?”

“Yes, I do. Now go on,” he said, directing her with a little
pat on the ass.

He hadn’t wanted to bruise her feelings, but it was
inevitable when breaking through someone’s defenses. He rounded the doorframe
and leaned against it to watch her. Hurt and confusion clouded her eyes as she
peered at herself in the mirror. She twisted her hair into a knot and secured
it with the elastic. Slowly she washed the makeup from her face, revealing the
woman beneath the façade she’d created. There was a moment where he thought she
might cry, but he watched her swallow it down and straighten herself before
returning to him.

She’d been sexy in the tightly laced corset with the way it
hugged her curves and put her breasts on display, but she was damn near perfect
without all the trimmings. She had a vulnerable innocence to her that was
staggering now that it was no longer masked. Her violet eyes brimmed with raw
emotion as she lifted her gaze to his.

Gently he rubbed her upper arms. “That’s my girl.”

“I feel so plain without my makeup. And I thought you’d like
the outfit. I spent—”

He pulled her to him and kissed her to shut her up. Her lips
were soft and timid beneath his as he licked the seam of her mouth. The small
moan she gave as she opened for him made his already stiff cock impossibly
harder. For all the sweetness he tasted, as she grew bolder sliding her tongue
along his, there was an undercurrent of hunger, of darkness. He did not want to
stop, but he had to present something that resembled self-discipline.

With a groan, he reluctantly broke the kiss. “Damn if you
don’t test my control, Indigo Hartley.”

“Yeah?” she whispered with a grin.

“You have no idea.” He lifted her chin using his thumb and
forefinger so he could look into her eyes. “And for the record, there is
absolutely nothing plain about you. I love that you dressed up for me, but you
don’t need all that for me to think you’re beautiful. You’re perfect just as
you are.” He brushed one of her nipples with the pad of his thumb.

She gasped, her eyes widening.

“So responsive,” he murmured. Her nipple hardened as he
continued to tease her. “Sit on the bed, keep your feet on the floor and spread
your legs.”

A hint of apprehension flickered across her face, but she
did as he asked.

“Now lie back,” he told her.

She lay down obediently, but kept her gaze on him.

He stood directly in front of her and studied her, taking
his sweet time, appreciating every curve and valley of her body. Minutes went
by and she began to fidget, but he didn’t touch her or say anything.

He waited.

The sexual tension intensified. Indie’s body almost hummed
with it. Her feet shifted nervously. Her breathing became faster, shallower.
Uncertainty showed in the way her brows were knit together. He’d pay a pretty
penny to know her thoughts at that moment, but he didn’t want to break the
spell.

“What—”

“Shh. Close your eyes. Don’t move unless I tell you to.”

He could have restrained her, and planned to before long,
but there was something about controlling a submissive using nothing but his
voice. She would have to consciously think about not moving. Her obedience
would be at the forefront of her mind. It would keep her mentally present, not
floating off somewhere in subspace. It was his way of cultivating the
connection between them. His dominance. Her submission. Some Doms used protocol
and punishment to instill the bond. Banner preferred to use a submissive’s
emotions and senses.

She blinked a few times as she searched his face then slowly
closed her eyes.

“Listen to the sounds around you.” He paused for a moment.
“What do you hear?”

She cocked her head a fraction to one side. “I hear the fan
above me. It creaks a little… Your breathing. It’s calm, deep… My heartbeat.”

“And what does it sound like?”

“Like a jackhammer,” she blurted with a small laugh.

“Good girl. Now I want you to tell me what you feel. Keep
your eyes closed.”

“Okay.”

He put his knee between her legs right up against her pussy,
placed a hand on either side of her shoulders then leaned down inches from her
face. “What do you feel?” he whispered.

“Your breath… The weight of you on the bed and between my
legs.”

“What do you
feel
?”

“Anticipation.” Her answer came out in a rush.