Page 19 of Arouse Me

Darting my gaze away from him, I felt awkwardly unsure and perplexed.

Get a grip. What the hell is wrong with you? You act like you’re never talked to a damn man before. Yeah, yeah, it’s Joshua Lars, big deal. Grow a set and snap out of it.

Gathering my courage while trying to wrap my head around the fact that I was with one of the most talented artists of the twenty-first century, I turned to face him. It was time to nip this ridiculous sophomoric crush shit in the bud.

“Why are you staring at me?”

“I’m memorizing every gorgeous contour of your face. I’m going to capture your beauty in clay.” He skimmed a single finger up my cheek, sending a tremor of excitement rippling through me. “You’re so damn beautiful. I can already feel you coming to life beneath my fingers.”

Images of dissolving beneath his masterful hands flickered through my brain. The erotic visuals, coupled with the champagne, melted all my inhibitions away. Acting on impulse, I leaned in and kissed him. Joshua started but didn’t pull back. Instead, he cupped a hand around my nape, laid siege to my mouth, and stripped away my attempt at control. He brushed his tongue over the seam of my lips, enticing me to yield beneath the kiss. Opening, I let him in as a voice inside from long ago sighed a contented ‘yes.’

Joshua sucked in an energized breath so deep it stole the air from my lungs. Empowered by my surrender, his kiss turned urgent and demanding. Our tongues dueled in a frantic dance as he slid his hand from my neck and palmed my aching breast. Swallowing my soft moans, he gently brushed a thumb over my turgid nipple. Gripping his tuxedo jacket in my fists, I held on as he ate at me like a ravenous animal.

Abruptly Joshua pulled back. In the moonlight, I saw the weight of desire blazing in his eyes.

“I want you in my bed, Mellie,” he whispered in a raspy, edgy rumble.

Jerking his head upright, he blinked, seemingly startled by his confession. Joshua scrubbed a hand through his golden hair and exhaled a deep sigh. “Dammit, you must think I’m a bastard. One kiss and—”

“No,” I blurted out. “You’re not. Take me to bed.”

What the hell are you doing? You don’t even know this guy. He’s not even asked you out to dinner, and you’re going to fuck him? You know what’s going to happen after. Right? Shame, remorse, and guilt. Tons and tons of guilt. Remember what happened the first time you thought you could handle a one-night stand? For the love of…don’t be stupid and set yourself up for that mental shit-storm again.

A sensual smile tugged one corner of his mouth, effectively wiping away the reprimanding voice in my head, and all my rationale. Leaping from the bench as if he’d just won a trip to Tahiti, he clasped his hand in mine. Pulling me to my feet, Joshua all but dragged me across the stone walkway and back inside the gallery.

Bending close to my ear, his warm breath had me biting back a moan. “I have to mingle for a few minutes. Don’t leave.”

“I won’t,” I murmured, turning to gaze into his twinkling green eyes.

“Good girl,” he whispered. Flashing me a quick wink, he hurried away.

My pussy fluttered at his praise, and I swallowed the lump of lust lodged in my throat.

You’re really going to do it, aren’t you? You’re going to wish you hadn’t when you’re crying and beating yourself up, feeling like a ten-cent whore, again.

Lifting a flute of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter, I downed its contents in two gulps. I wasn’t aiming to get drunk; I simply needed some liquid courage and hoped it would silence the righteous voice screaming in my head.

Meandering toward the back of the gallery, I caught Joshua glancing my way while he chatted with his fans. It was impossible to miss the lustful flicker in his eyes or the knowing smile adorning his erotic mouth. Anticipation had those damn butterflies dipping and swooping in a gut-churning free-fall. Turning away from his enticing glimpses, I once again found myself staring at the alluring woman on her knees. Just as before, she held me hostage while my tattered and bruised submission stirred to life.

“You please me, girl, and make me happy.” The familiar voice from long ago echoed in my head, dragging with it the warmth of pleasing a Master.

Squeezing my eyes shut, I clenched my jaw as my body grew taut. No. He wasn’t a Master, he was a fake, and you were a fool to believe his lies. Even as I tried to convince myself the submission I’d experienced was a farce, I couldn’t deny the contentment yielding had brought to my soul. I couldn’t rationalize away how utterly complete I’d been beneath the command of a Dom. Even one who was a son of a bitch and had little regard for a collar. Master wasn’t all bad. There were moments when his command had been simply divine, and something special blossomed inside me…or at least, I’d thought so at the time.

I missed my submission. Even admitting there was a missing part inside me, I knew I could never allow myself to sink back to such a vulnerable position again. It would be emotional suicide. I had to drive away the beguiling memories—slam the lid down tight, and seal them away—fast. This was definitely not the time or place to toss my yearnings into some emotional blender and start whipping up dysfunctional submissive smoothies.

Opening my eyes, I had every intention of suppressing my inner submissive, but all that was shot to hell the instant I gazed at the imploring expression on the figurine’s face. I’d been that woman, haunted by the same compulsion to please reflected on her beautifully etched face. Yearning for that fulfillment sliced deep, opening me up with a raw and unforgiving blade.

No matter how desperately I wanted to deny it, Joshua’s mannerisms conveyed his Dominance. I’d have to be deaf, dumb, and blind not to notice. Like a slippery eel, apprehension slithered within. I’d successfully hidden my real desires when he’d questioned me about my reaction to the statue. But what if he got past my defenses? Would he expect me to kneel at his feet and hand over my control so he could mold me into a perfect statue? Then what? Dangle me like a puppet until a younger, inexperienced submissive blipped his radar? How long would it be until he snipped the threads and set me free, only to sink his talented hands into the flesh of another to sculpt and mold her into a flawless sub?

No more champagne for you, chicky. You’ve known the man a whole five minutes. If he expects you to hand over your control without trust, he’s nothing but another big, fat fucking player. Besides, none of it matters. All you’re going to do is have a nice, hot tumble in the sack with him. That’s it. No Dom/sub nothing! So get a grip and for the love of…Stop torturing yourself looking at the damn sculpture!

Snapping my head up, I found Joshua staring at me with a gaze so intent I suddenly worried I’d let my mask slip. My cheeks grew warm, and I began to mentally draw up my crumbling shield. My only saving grace was that the man couldn’t read my mind. Quickly pulling bold and brazen Mellie to the surface, I flashed him a seductive smile. I had no intention of letting him see how quickly he unraveled me.

Seduction, not submission.

Joshua inched closer toward me, never missing a beat of conversation with the crowd of people pressing in around him. Hyperaware his methodical movements were aimed in my direction, the room felt hotter. My nipples ached, my pussy wept, and all I could think about was begging him put out the five-alarm fire he ignited within me.

I couldn’t stop staring at the curve of his lips or the memory of how his fervent kiss had possessed me. Watching the unconscious sweep of his hands as he talked, I studied each long finger before dropping my gaze to his feet. I couldn’t help it. I was curious. I’d spent enough horizontal time in the sheets to know the old adage; big hands, big feet…big cock was true, and Joshua Lars had a massive cock hidden beneath his pants. My palms itched to caress, grip, and stroke it to life. Subconsciously, I slid my tongue over my teeth, hungry for a taste.

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