Liberated Heart (Windy City) Page 3

  "I don't even know you." She pointed a finger in the air, as though the idea had just sprung into her addlebrained mind. She must have been crazy to even be considering what he was suggesting.

  "True." He gave a nod and turned back toward his desk. When he faced her again, there was a business card in his hand. "This is my contact info. Before you leave, I'll get yours. I'm going to give you some material to read, and I'm sure you'll have questions while you do it. You are to text me no matter what time of day, anything you have a question or concern about. I will do the same to you. Sort of like speed dating." The playful grin was back. "And there's Alex." He raised both eyebrows. "You can ask him anything about me. He knows me as well as I know myself."

  "No." She shook her head. "I don't want him to know."

  "But you came here looking for him."

  "And he was busy." It was her turn to raise her eyebrows. "Now you're stuck with me." She tried to sound light, but the realization she was now a burden to someone else struck her. She needed to get on her own feet. She didn't want to lean on anyone anymore, and she sure as hell didn't want to be coddled anymore. Some of what Jonathan had said about her was true. She was naïve and trusted too easily.

  Concern crossed his expression but washed away as quickly as it had appeared. Under no circumstance did she want his pity.

  "I'm okay," she said. "I mean him leaving hurt, but I'm okay."

  His eyes narrowed, and the side of his mouth curved upward again. "More half-truths. I should warn you, I'm very strict. I don't tolerate lies, disrespect, or disobedience."

  She swallowed. "Okay." Was she really agreeing to this? Where the hell was the logical, level-headed Erin? She was still sitting on the bedroom floor sobbing over the asshole who’d walked out on her.

  "And I'm a bit rougher than a beginner might like. I'll go slow, but my tastes are darker than many. You'll always be safe, and I'll never ignore a safeword, but I want you to think about these things as you look over the book I'm going to give you."

  A small part of her mind sent caution signals to the rest of her body. The entire idea was insane to even consider, much less agree to. However, that small part of her brain had been the part that talked her into doing everything she'd always done—always the responsible, reasonable adult. Do what was expected. Don't color outside the lines. That tiny part could go for a long walk as far as she was concerned.

  "Okay." She nodded with more confidence. A rebound. Reset. The thing she needed to get all the way over Jonathan and move on to the next chapter of her life. She held out her hand, and he stared down at her. "The book. You said you wanted to give me a book."

  "I will, but not yet. First, I want you to go lock the door, then come back here and stand where I am." She didn't move. "Erin, I don't speak to hear myself. I say what I want, and I expect it to be done. Now, go lock the door and come back here. Or you can head on home."

  "If I stay?" She smoothed down her skirt as she stood.

  "I'm going to make you come so hard, you'll be too tired to think about your broken heart."

  Her mouth dried. He couldn't have said that. No way would she let him do that. It was beyond inappropriate, something she would have never even considered before.

  "You can say no. You can go home and mull everything over."

  He gave her an out. A way to slither from the room and pretend she hadn't been propositioned by a complete stranger. An extremely sexy stranger who seemed to have a way of gluing her feet to the floor with his sexual undertones and lusty stare.

  With several tentative steps, she made her way to the door and flipped the lock. The resounding click echoed in her mind. When she turned around, he had moved to the side of his desk and was pointing to the spot he had already mentioned. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself she was an adult, and as such, she could have an orgasm whenever and wherever she wanted.

  His blue eyes never left her as she stepped into place. When she tried to look down, he lifted her chin with one fingertip, bringing his face to hers, nose to nose.

  "Never take your eyes off me. I want to see every expression. Do you understand?" The heat of his breath against her skin fanned the already burning flames.

  "Yes."

  Using his thumb and forefinger, he held her chin in place and brought his lips down on hers. The intoxicating warmth of his fingers held nothing to the white-hot flames of his kiss. His mouth pressed hard against hers, and his tongue, rough against her lips, probed for entrance. He didn't move his hand, and he didn't need to. She wouldn't be going anywhere so long as he continued to deepen the connection between them.

  There was no gentleness to the kiss, no tenderness. Just a raw claiming. Possession. No struggle for control, he owned it all, and she willingly followed where he took her. His hand released her chin, and he rested it on her hip, slipping his hand under her sweater. When he broke off the kiss, her eyes remained locked with his. Her breath was ragged, her heart pounding. Could he hear it as loudly as she could?

  "I'm going to put my hand up your skirt." He moved his hand down, gathering the pleated skirt and slipping underneath. "Spread your legs a little. I want to feel how hot your pussy is." Her legs moved. "Good. Now I'm going to touch your pussy, but I'm not going to move your panties. Not unless you ask."

  Her hands gripped the desk, waiting for the touch she knew would set her entire body into a spiral of heated emotions.

  She closed her eyes as soon as his fingers found her clit. Slight pressure—not enough to give her any sort of satisfaction or relief, but enough to drive her mind further down the rabbit hole. The electric current of his touch raced through her body. Angling her hips toward him, she sought out more of what he gave. She needed him. Needed the release.

  "No." He jerked his hand away. "You don't move until I say. Stand still. I'm doing this. You focus on enjoying the sensations I'm giving you."

  His eyes darkened, and she nodded, quickly agreeing. She would have agreed to almost anything to get his fingers back on her. He knew what she needed, where to touch. His fingers stroked her pussy with a feather touch. She wanted to growl and push forward again, but a warning lingered in his eyes.

  "So wet already, and I've barely touched you." He moved his fingers upward, closer to her clit. "Did what I said turn you on?" He pinched her labia, and she squeaked from the intensity.

  "Yes!" she answered, taking a deep breath. He released her, and she felt the warm tingling move over her, bringing her arousal to a new level.

  "If I tell you I want to tie you up, spank your ass until it's red, and fuck you until you scream, will that turn you on more?" His fingers were back to probing and rubbing. She nodded. "Words. And keep your eyes on me."

  "Yes, Bradley. Yes." She could barely breathe, let alone form words.

  "If I told you I wanted to whip your pussy, flog your tits, and clamp your nipples, would that make you even hotter?" he asked, flicking his finger over her clit.

  "Yes!" she cried out as her orgasm built. She would die if he didn't push her harder. He ran his fingers over the wet fabric covering her pussy.

  "So wet." He grinned at her. "If I don't let you come, will you pout?"

  "Bradley. Please." Her fingers were going numb from gripping the desk.

  "Please what? Please let you come? Please let you come all over my hand here in my office, pinned up against my desk?"

  "Yes." She nodded with more enthusiasm than ever before. "Please." She wanted more. She wanted his fingers inside her.

  "Is there something you want? I see it in your eyes, Erin. If you want it, you have to ask for it." His face pressed against hers, his eyes a blur at the close proximity.

  He ground his fingers into her clit. Her legs began to tremble, and her arms threatened to give out. She needed him inside her.

  "Fingers." She let out a pant. "Please."

  "What? My fingers? You want my fingers inside you?" She nodded against his head, their foreheads now touching.

  "Please," she
whispered. His agile fingertips swept away the cotton barrier, and two of his fingers circled her entrance. She slid her legs open more, giving him easier access.

  "Is this what you want?"

  "Yes!"

  "Why should I give it to you? You haven't asked yet."

  She groaned. "Please. Please, Bradley."

  "All you have to do is ask, Erin. I'm not holding anything back, you are." He slid one finger into her pussy up to his first knuckle. Enough to fuel her need, but nowhere near enough to put out the raging fire.

  "Please, finger my pussy," she whispered, clenching her eyes shut. What was she doing?

  "What? I didn't hear you." He turned his head, pressing his ear to her lips.

  "Please, Bradley. Please finger my pussy."

  "That's a good girl." Two fingers slid into her hot, needy passage, and she cried out in relief. He plunged in and out of her quickly, rubbing her clit with his palm as he went. "Do you want to come?"

  "Yes. Please!" She moved her hands from the desk and gripped his shoulders to steady herself. The hard muscle beneath his shirt warmed her skin.

  "Then do it. Do it now, Erin." His voice sounded ragged and rough. His fingers expertly worked her pussy into a tense frenzy. No longer able to hold still, she arched toward him as everything inside her exploded. Tingles shot from one end of her body to the next. Her pussy clenched and released. Her cry went unheard as his mouth captured hers, swallowing her scream of pleasure.

  Her nails dug into his arms. Spasms slowed but continued to linger. Her breath hadn't quite come back to her yet, and although she'd never felt more alive and fulfilled during a sexual encounter, she wanted more.

  "There." He kissed her softly and pulled his fingers from her, bringing them to his mouth and licking off all her juices. She stared at him, panting, trying to get her bearings. "Don't you feel better?"

  Chapter 5

  Never let it be said that Bradley Sorenson was anything but a gentleman. At least, that's what he tried to convince himself the following day as he sat at the kitchen table of his five-bedroom house overlooking Lake Michigan. The more he thought about the events of the previous evening with Erin, the more he began to think himself an utter asshole.

  She was clearly in pain from her breakup. Even if she pretended she was fine, he knew a broken heart when he saw one. The only difference between her and the other women he'd seen nursing the pain, she hadn’t seemed broken up over the loss of her ex. It was something else. Something internal. Either way, he wanted to find the dipshit and use his face for his next workout. He'd only met Erin a few hours ago, but he’d seen enough to know she didn't deserve what had happened to her.

  The last thing that woman needed was his advances. He had tried to keep his hands off her from the moment she stepped off the elevator. Even covered in conservative clothes, he could see the gorgeous body beneath. And her lips. Damn, those perfectly pink, kissable lips. And the offer to buy her at the auction! What drug had he been slipped? The smart thing would be to call Alex and tell him everything. But he couldn't make that call.

  He wouldn't go so far as to regret giving her an orgasm. The release had done her a world of good. Immediately after he’d righted her clothing, he'd hauled her to him, letting her nuzzle his chest. Her muscles relaxed, and her breathing calmed. He'd held her until the glossy haze in her eyes faded away. She didn't regret it, and if he asked her to go through it again, he was sure she would. After several contented sighs, he'd sat her back in the chair and gone over what he'd already told her. With his business card tucked into the book explaining BDSM activities and some protocols, he'd sent her on her way. Not being a complete asshole, he'd called his car to drive her back to her office where'd she left her purse.

  He had asked his driver to take her home after, but from what George told him, she politely declined. And when George had insisted, she’d ditched him. He had laughed when his driver told him the story, assuring him he was most definitely not angry with him. The woman wasn't as timid as she appeared. It held promise.

  Pushing her out of his mind, he sent a text to his attorney. They'd be meeting that afternoon in regard to the buyout offer he and Alex planned to extend to Travis and John. He doubted the men would find the offer to their satisfaction, but he also doubted they had the funds to repay the club.

  He rinsed his coffee cup and placed it in the dishwasher on his way to the garage. The accountant would be expecting him, and morning traffic in the city never failed to fuck his timing. As he slid into the driver's side of his Lexus, his phone buzzed.

  No fisting. EVER.

  He grinned at Erin's text. Fair enough. How'd you sleep?

  Never had he been so happy to have hands-free texting. Plugging in his phone, he started the car. He put no worth on inanimate possessions. The only staff he employed was his driver and a maid service, and that was purely out of laziness. He loved a clean home, and the feeling of being cared for in that way.

  The last few attempts at keeping a submissive in his care, he’d given them the responsibility of household duties. At first most of them said they enjoyed service as part of their submissive role in the relationship. But once their panties weren’t soaking wet at all hours of the day folding laundry or cooking, they shirked their duties. It didn’t take long after that for them to figure out they weren’t into Bradley’s domination outside the bedroom. He resolved long ago it was better to keep his relationships in the bedroom.

  Slept better than expected. Face slapping okay.

  He turned into the morning rush hour traffic and slowed to a crawl along with the other commuters. One of my favorites. Be warned. George said you blew him off last night. Naughty, naughty.

  Avoiding a rogue cab driver, he turned down the last leg of his trip. He could have had George drive him, that was what he kept him on staff for, but he doubted that would have made the commute any more pleasurable.

  I did tell him I would take the train. Thanks, though, for the ride back to my office.

  Thankfully, he found a spot in the lot rather quickly, and headed through the main doors into the lobby. Jerry had been his personal accountant since he'd taken over his parents’ estate at the age of twenty-one. Now, at thirty-three, he'd come to depend on Jerry for more than matters of money.

  Unlike yourself, George listens to me. We'll work on the obedience tomorrow evening.

  He stepped into the crowded elevator and pushed the button for his floor. A pretty blonde eyed him as he stepped to the opposite side of the car. He gave a polite smile, then looked back at his phone.

  If I go…

  Well, that said it, didn't it? She could very well flip through the book he'd given her, the basic ABCs of BDSM, and decide the fantasy should remain that—a fantasy. She could very well not go—but he didn’t worry too much about it. Her response to his touch led him to think she'd want more of the same—and more of everything else he had to offer.

  He needed to remind himself that she'd never had the touch of a Dominant until last night. She'd never entered his world of pain and pleasure, discipline and submission. These were just concepts to her, things she'd seen in a porn pic. To him, they were a way of being. He'd never had a vanilla relationship that worked, and mostly because he didn't want one. He loved control, and not because he was a complete dickhead. He gave as much pleasure as he took, but he never felt quite like himself when he wasn't holding the reins.

  Girlfriends of his adolescence had called him selfish—a greedy little rich boy who had to have everything his way. Oh, they had loved the control when he'd given them orgasm after orgasm, but when that moved from the bed to the couch, they ran for the door. At first, he'd questioned whether they had been right. Did he think the world revolved around him because his father had money? But the more he explored, the more he saw it for what it was: he craved control and fed off the submission of a willing woman, not because he was selfish—no submissive had ever had that complaint—it was simply who he was. It was him. Finally re
alizing that, he stayed away from vanilla women.

  Then there was Erin. The poster child for vanilla. Or was she? He learned a long time ago people were not always what they appeared. How many politicians had made their way to his VIP rooms with their mistresses for the evening?

  If you go, I'll expect you to be wearing something a little less kindergarten teacher.

  He grinned at his phone before sliding it into the inside pocket of his blazer. In his mind, he imagined the pout of annoyance on her face when she read the text. One thing she did not do was hide her feelings from her facial expressions. He was going to have a hell of a lot of fun playing with her.

  The phone vibrated against his chest, but he ignored it. Jerry's receptionist took him right to his office. He needed to focus, to make his plans for his club.

  "Bradley!" Jerry grinned and slapped his hand into Bradley's for a hearty handshake. He offered Bradley a seat, then closed his office door. "How've you been?" The older man eased into his chair behind his massive desk. A picturesque view of the lakefront provided the elegant background that suited Jerry perfectly. The now graying accountant had been a family friend for as far back as Bradley could remember. Having worked so closely with his father, he depended on him for his honesty and guidance.

  After the car accident, it was Jerry who took him aside and showed him the true fortune of his parents’ estate. His father may not have slaved away at a desk or in a coal mine, but he'd put a lot of effort in turning old money into new, fresh money. The investments and real estate purchases had nearly tripled the Sorensons family’s worth, and it was all left for Bradley to manage at the tender age of twenty-one. If it hadn't been for the sound advice and push for him to get a few financial classes under his belt, Bradley probably would have destroyed the wealth his father had worked so diligently to build.

  "I have a favor to ask, Jerry. I'm not thrilled with the job the club accountant is doing with our books. I think some money has gone missing, and other money is allocated where it shouldn't be. I need a full audit on the company accounts."