Kept by Him

  They were so wound up today, he fucking knew he should’ve stayed last night, and held her like before, when the poke of her nipples through her nightgown against his chest had been the thrill of his young existence. Sometimes he’d take a cool shower before he knocked on her door, so he could listen to her and not feel electrified every time her breath hit his neck. Even then, it had been haunting, overpowering, the need to comfort her, hold her.… He’d been thinking of fucking kissing her for days, weeks, years. He’d never imagined she wouldn’t want him.

  After that, he’d spoiled his poor rejected cock but he definitely, definitely, never again thought with it. He had always been a man of precise intellect, perhaps even ruthless intellect.

  But never with her.

  He slammed a fist into the elevator wall and groaned. The temptation to go up there and apologize gnawed at his gut, but he couldn’t. He was too proud, too angry. He’d never been second place to anyone, much less to a man like Roland. He’d never been used for sex. He’d been the one who used and discarded, who commanded and was obeyed.

  Cursing under his breath, knowing he couldn’t talk to her until he calmed the fuck down and it was going to take a fucking long while, he went outside and listened to the pounding rain, and he pulled out his cell phone and snapped at his driver to bring the car around. In the meantime, he stepped out and let the cool rain smack him in an attempt to get rid of his infernal boner, which had tormented him ever since he’d seen her with that cashmere wrapped around her slender body.

  * * *

  As the seconds ticked by, Monica’s incredulity over Daniel’s ultimatum morphed into anger, until suddenly, she couldn’t contain her rage. She charged across the office hall, then out of the department store, then outside, overcome with a thousand different emotions. Her body ached, ached in a way that disquieted her so much, her spirit was raging to lash at him.

  He was outside, standing in the rain while his chauffer pulled the Rolls-Royce up in front of the building.

  “You!” she cried, and he turned with a scowl as she stepped into the rain with him, immediately getting drenched. “How dare you talk to me like I’m one of your strumpets!”

  He stepped in closer to her, his expression thunderous. “How dare you treat me like I’m one of your senile lapdogs? Play your role with whoever you want, but I’ll be damned if I let you play the Ice Maiden with me!”

  “I’m not some bimbo who will wait around to pleasure you all day and succumb to your tiniest wishes, and to whom you can issue asinine ultimatums!”

  He grabbed her arm as he jerked the car door open with his other hand and then shoved her into the back, slid in behind her, and closed the door behind him. Monica ended up sprawled across the whole seat, with him above her.

  “To my place,” he snapped as the driver boarded, then he slid the partition window closed so the driver wouldn’t hear or see them.

  “No! What are you doing? I need to go back!”

  Fuming, Monica struggled to sit up, the effort futile against his strength. “Get off of me, Daniel! Don’t touch me. Don’t touch me. You said so yourself, it’s over. I’m not going to be ordered around by you!”

  He pinned her down the length of the seat, his eyes dark and tumultuous, his unmistakable erection rock-hard solid against her hipbone. “So you want Roland,” he said through gritted teeth, his hands clenching her wrists, “who’ll stand by your side and hold your hand and fetch your drink.”

  “Let go of me!”

  She struggled against his grip, but suddenly he looked terribly big, and terribly jealous, his eyes flashing bright green. Unexpectedly, her struggles melted into a shudder of need. He dropped his voice then, and he spoke to her in a seductive murmur. “If I let you go, then who’s going to do this?”

  Her clothes were plastered to her, and his hands released her to reach for the opening of her shirt, slowly flicking the buttons open. The feel of his fingertips as they unbuttoned her shirt electrified her. He’d removed his jacket she didn’t know when, but she could see the outline of his nipples through his soaked black button-down shirt. They poked, two hard points, into the material.

  Heat filled her core, making the cold almost vaporize around her as a rush of cream gathered between her thighs. Her own nipples responded and, although already erect from the cold, they pressed harder into her bra and blouse.

  He raked his gaze across her curves, perfectly delineated by the flimsy silk blouse she’d worn, and his nostrils expanded. “You crave my touch, Monica,” he said, suddenly foregoing the unbuttoning of her shirt and sliding his hands under the fabric to pull down the lace of her bra and engulf both mounds in his big hands.

  He squeezed and caressed, massaged until the pleasure made her every fingertip tingle in pleasure.

  “You ache for this. You beg for it. Your pulse goes crazy. You tremble. You arch and push up for more. You go wet and hot and desperate. It’s why you keep coming for it … it’s why you can’t think straight anymore … you want this. You need this more than you will ever know or even understand.”

  She wanted him so much, a fire burst open in her belly, incredibly hot. His thumbs passed and tweaked the throbbing nipple tips, and her body arched to the almost painful touch, her hips circling eagerly in search of his erection.

  “What do you think would go on with me, Monica?” He gentled his voice, his eyes liquid green as he pushed the halfway undone shirt aside to reveal one puckered wet breast, and he proved to her how in control he was of her own body, making her moan deep in her throat as he bent to devour her nipple until it throbbed.

  “I’ve had it bad for you my entire life,” he said, blowing air into the thrumming crest. “Holding you while you cried in my arms without making you mine was the most difficult thing I’ve ever done. You arouse me like crazy. I lust for you, respect you, admire you.… Why do you think we look for what we look for in others? What is it you think we really feel for each other?”

  She tossed her head in protest, but even when bristling, her neglected breast also ached for his kisses. Her voice was raw with need. “Don’t you dare even imply that you care,” she said with gritted teeth, grabbing his head and hauling him to her breast, moaning when he exposed it through the meager parting of her shirt and laved it with his tongue. “You don’t just wear a BORN FREE tattoo and get to say this to me,” she cried.

  He pulled her into a sitting position, his chest heaving as he ran a fingertip over her trembling bottom lip, his face harsh and beautiful in its intensity. “We’ve been going against what we want for over a decade, Monica. Why is nothing ever enough for me, not harder sex, not more women? Why can’t you be with another man?”

  “That’s not true.” She pushed at his hand and edged down the seat away from him. “Go back to your hussies, Daniel!”

  His arms quickly snaked around her and he brought her to his lap, anchoring her down. “Do you think I’ll be satisfied with someone else now? When I could have had you?” He forced her over his erection, meaningfully rocking his hips so she would feel him at the very wet and achy entry to her sex. “You’re like a drug, Monica. I can’t stop now that I’ve tasted you.”

  Her face flamed as his cock continued bumping up the cheeks of her buttocks, the unmistakable energy of lust and need whirling around them, until it was more than a need, more than desire, more than a fever, until his green eyes were like torches and they had set every inch of her on fire.

  The patter of raindrops continued above them, and Monica’s body was shaking, had been shaking since he’d appeared this morning.

  She closed her eyes and took in a long, calming breath, which quickly left her when his hot hands wrapped around her waist and pulled her tighter against his hard chest. Those hands, their scent, the uncompromising way they held her, it was like he’d summoned out her desires that first night, like a genie from a bottle, and now he owned and commanded her.

  Her heart sped, her breath quickened, her body tensed with a rush o
f desire so powerful, she was helpless to resist its magnetic pull as he tipped her head around to his.

  “Take the day off with me.”

  He lowered his forehead to hers, breathing intensely. Shuddering, she held her eyes closed, not wanting to open them, a strange sound of need groaning out of her throat. He made an answering sound, and for a moment, they breathed on each other, his hands sliding around her, while her own hands were at his shoulders—wanting to push him away, but not doing anything except clutching him with severely cramped fingers.

  It felt like a lifetime had passed before he moved his head a fraction. She was ready. So ready. Born ready.

  His lips closed over hers, acting like an adrenaline shot straight to her heart. His tongue flashed to hers, and she trembled with how much she wanted it.

  He gathered her closer and into his arms, and she slid her hands over his wet shirt and wrapped herself all over him, urgent for closeness, for his hands, his touch, his voice explaining to her what she was feeling. Could he please explain to her what she was feeling?

  Sensations swam through her bloodstream as he drew her tongue into his mouth and sucked on it with a growl of pleasure so deep, it curled her toes.

  Her fingers were restless and slid into his hair, silky and thick, and his hands splayed on her back, sliding to cup and curve around her ass.

  “I know what you want, princess. What you need. We’re both too wound up, I should’ve just stayed over last night and made love to you in the morning. We need this.”

  He slid his hands up to cup her face and kissed her nose, then he brushed his lips almost tenderly across hers. He set a kiss on each corner of her lips. “This. This. This.”

  He’d moved center on the lips again, and she opened and pushed her tongue out almost frantically to his, with her hands grabbing the waistband of his pants and tugging him harder, closer, as his hands clenched onto her face.

  He angled his head and yanked her closer as he devoured her, then he reached to unzip his pants. She edged sideways so he could pull himself out, and when he did, she couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think.

  Daniel sat there, his cock thrusting outward. So huge. She licked her lips as a painful need tore through her. She wanted him. The need was almost surreal, gnawing and destroying her. He wasn’t gentle with her, didn’t treat her like a maiden, she was all hot woman in his arms, and he would never let her forget it.

  “Sit on it,” he said softly.

  Her hands trembled as she tremulously pulled up her skirt and removed her panties, aware that he watched her.

  He cupped her breasts and grunted, an animalistic sound, as she climbed over him, his palms engulfing them, torturing the small mounds, teasing the nipples into hardened little points that hurt.

  She lowered herself as he gently sank his teeth around the base of one nipple, the sensations multiplying by the addition of his teeth as his tongue laved and swiped, suckled and suctioned. She floated in only feeling, only lust, only him.

  He gave wild, primal little lust bites at her neck, her ear, and gripped her hips as he came back up, eyes fixated on her face. “Tell me you want me inside you, Monica.”

  It came out in a desperate rush. “I want you inside me.”

  His lips pressed down on hers with devastating gentleness as he gripped her by the waist, then he lowered her, slowly, as lost in it as she was, as desperate to be completely buried in her as she was to be completely penetrated. He held her down, gently gripping her hips.

  “Tilt your hips, and tell me how it feels,” he rasped, as inch by inch, his hot, hard length advanced inside her. “Yeah,” he breathed, and she tilted her hips until she felt her body contract around him, her sex swallowing him entirely.

  “Daniel,” she gasped, and a sound a little like pain squeaked out of her when they were fully joined, and he eased back.

  “Am I too thick? Too big?” he gruffly asked, but she quickly begged, “Please, don’t leave me empty,” only to realize he had intended to lift her and pull her back down.

  The sound tearing off her this time was all pleasure. He closed his eyes and set his forehead on hers for a moment, her heart thundering, their bodies melded, throbbing in unison, and nothing had ever felt like this. She gripped his jaw and set her lips on his, kissing him.

  He groaned as though relieved to be surrounded by her, as though he’d been desperate for her flesh to massage him, hold him, caress him. He pulsed within her. Firm and warm.

  When her hands clutched his shoulders and urged him, he inhaled through his teeth, flung his head back, and started to move with her. Her body clenched around his as she bounced slowly up and down. Her hips tilted vigorously, meeting his thrusts, progressively faster, seemingly deeper. He bit down on her shoulder, and pleasure raged through her like a thunderstorm. The sensations rose like a ride, taking her higher, higher.

  “Daniel,” she cried, frightened, clutching him.

  He was lost to the storm, too, biting into her neck now, breathing hard, “Oh, Christ … Monica … I can’t … I can’t wait…”

  She exploded with a soft cry, nerves twisting, body clenching and unclenching, her systems setting loose as he plunged into her with a bark of pleasure as her pussy rippled and grasped at his cock, pulling him, massaging him, stroking him to orgasm with her.

  He became heavy, impossibly heavy, deliciously heavy, when she sagged. He still dragged himself inside her, groaning, still hard, and she responded with a soft moan and bit into his shoulder like he had, loving how it had felt. He turned his head and when he kissed her, she thought he was going to swallow her tongue, his passion still without boundaries … stirring her again.…

  Chapter Four

  They arrived at his apartment building, and Monica was still breathless in his arms, heavy-lidded, her mouth damp, her cheeks pink with exertion … so damned sensual and beautiful. Daniel didn’t want to let her catch her breath and start talking shit to him about Roland; he didn’t want to stop and think about anything except how right this was. She was afraid of love, and he was pushing her to admit it. It could backfire. But God, he’d had enough of this.

  He’d never wanted anyone so much in his life.

  When the car stopped, he tucked the tiny wad of fabric of her panties into his pocket and helped her straighten out her gray pencil skirt, and as she stepped out of the car, he scooped her up.

  “I can walk,” she softly protested.

  “All right then.”

  He set her down, took her arm, and guided her to his door. He’d wanted to carry her, just to hold her close, and to make sure she didn’t decide to leave and go back to her office. It was stark daylight. He should be working. They both should.

  But damn it, Daniel had worked his entire life, and he couldn’t remember anything as important right now as her. It was different from how it was with any other woman, so different it was like he’d never had a woman before. Blood rushing thick and heady in his veins, he opened all his doors and then went straight to his bedroom, leading her to the bed.

  Monica’s eyes were glazed with desire as she turned at the foot of the bed, her gaze upturned to his face in sensual invitation as she delicately started removing her damp blouse. He almost dissolved in need when he noticed her urgency as she lay back on the mattress and parted her legs.

  “You ready?” he murmured, bending down to pull off her skirt, touching a hand along her bare stomach. He ran his hand between her heaving breasts, every inch of her skin slick with rain and sliding under his palm. He pressed into her pussy with his finger, and she moaned again, her folds still wet, her fingers clawing at his arms to pull him closer. His voice rasped against his throat. “Ready to make love again?”

  She nodded wildly, and he whipped out the bondage ties he had in his nightstand. He tied her wrists and strapped the material to a special hook on the center of the bed, then he also tied up her legs, each of them separate and hooked to the corners, so he could keep her splayed open.

  Her
breathing accelerated with arousal. Her eyes turning black, she whispered, “What are you doing, Daniel?”

  Her breasts jerked up and down, up and down with her breaths as he stripped before her. Then, when she saw him come back, powerfully hard for her as always, she moaned his name, “Daniel…” He bent to give a suckle on each glistening breast, his mouth getting wet with saliva at the first taste of her. Addictive. Crazy ass obsessive. That’s how she made him feel.

  He licked his way down her abdomen to eat and lap at her pussy, his senses spinning, honing in on the taste of her, the scent of vanilla that clung to her.

  “Why are you tying me?” she mewed, undulating, her legs wide open as her hips shot upward, rubbing against his erection.

  “This is what I’ve had to do to all this time … fuck longer … fuck harder … anything to keep from fucking you.”

  He bent again to her lovely breasts, having fantasized about them too much, and he suckled one of the hardened little beads, fucked it with his tongue, flicking his tongue over and over it while he tweaked its partner with his fingers, enjoying the little sounds she made.

  “Oh, please, this is torture! Don’t be so mean,” she gasped.

  He growled and came up, shoving his tongue into her mouth until she shuddered. He rammed inside her without preamble. She screamed. He rocked inside her, teeth clamped, breath hissing out of him as he felt his cock drag inside her flesh, scraping her. He pushed up to her G-spot, watched her arms wrench in her binds, her legs strain as she tried to move from the pleasure, but couldn’t.

  He pulled out, then dragged his cock so that the tip glided across her clitoris. Her eyes were half closed as she watched him, her mouth parted, her breasts jerking up and down along with her abdomen as she tried to breathe. She was perfect and she was perfectly wet, perfectly tight, and she was his. Mine … He rubbed the head of his shaft in circles against her clitoris until she tossed her head back on a heavy moan. Mine … yeah, baby, that’s right … you’re mine.…