Page 16 of Exposed to You

“And you realized that you liked it. Or did you already know when I pleasured you the other night?”

I didn’t respond, and he spanked me again.

“Both! I guess I realized then but started to know for sure when I saw the picture.” I flushed with embarrassment at my confession, glad that he couldn’t see my face. I’d just admitted to him what I hadn’t been able to admit to myself.

Dallon gently pulled my shorts back up and placed me between his legs so that I was kneeling before him. He pulled up my shirt just enough to expose my midriff and inserted a hand under the waistband of my shorts.

“Time to find out.”

I inhaled as his fingers slipped between my legs. A smile spread across his face. “You’re very wet. You liked that. Didn’t you, Amy?”

I blushed crimson. My face had never felt so hot.

“Didn’t you?”

I nodded, biting my lip.

He stopped touching me. “I want to hear you say it.”

“I liked it,” I whispered. I didn’t want him to stop; I was beyond aroused and there was no point in denying it. When he leaned forward to kiss me, I returned it, kissing him deeply and moaning into his mouth. At that point, I would have admitted anything if he’d asked him. Would have done anything.

He smiled and began stroking me again. “You’re so receptive to me. I love it.”

I looked down and saw the bulge in his pants, and that just pushed me further. As the pleasure grew, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth against his shoulder, stifling my moans as I shuddered into my climax.

* * *

Dallon trailed his fingers along my legs before taking my right foot in his hand and beginning to rub it. I was lying on the couch with my legs resting on his lap, my body still humming. I was in way over my head and I knew it; Dallon had just found a way to make me admit what I hadn’t wanted to admit to anyone. There was no hiding now.

“Do you feel more relaxed now that the truth is out and everything is okay?”

I nodded. It was kind of freeing to have given in and admitted it to myself.

“Good,” Dallon smiled, picking up my other foot.

I watched him work away at my arch, a small smile on his face. His touch was amazing, and my thoughts wandered to what else he might be pro at. It was obvious that Dallon had experience with satisfying a woman. He was so experienced; he could read me better than I could read myself.

I wished I knew as much about him.

“So, your fantasy woman—the one that looks like me—that’s your… type,” I said, trying to sound casual.

He shrugged. “I guess so.”

“Why? I mean—why that look?”

He smiled with one side of his mouth. “I’ve thought about that. I think it’s because I’m looking for something opposite to myself. I’m large—almost six foot four—and dark. I want small and light.”

I didn’t respond and he took another sip of his wine, this time sounding sad or bitter, I couldn’t tell which. “An angel to my devil, perhaps.”

“That sounds deep.” I was still tipsy and suddenly tired, struggling to keep my eyes open after the earlier events. “Do you see yourself as a devil?”

“Sometimes.”

“Because you like to spank women?”

He laughed, but it sounded sad. He ran a finger up my leg again and shivered under his touch. “Because I like to control women.”

I tried to stifle a yawn and failed miserably. “But why?”

He sighed. “I appreciate your willingness to discuss with me, Miss Clair, but we’re heading into territory that should probably wait for another day. I don’t want to make you run when I’ve finally made progress, and you need to go to bed. It’s late.”

Dallon moved my legs off his lap and bent over to pick me up. He carried me to his bed, pulled back the covers and placed me down. When he put the covers on me, they felt as heavy as my eyelids, which I could no longer keep open.

“Sleep well, Amy,” he said and kissed me on the forehead.

Chapter Eleven

When I awoke the next morning, it took me a minute to remember where I was.

I was in a large bed with a dark red duvet and brown sheets. I sat up and looked around the room. It was sparsely decorated with a leather reading chair and a dresser. From my vantage point, I could see a large closet and beside it, a bathroom.

Instead of putting me to bed in the guestroom, Dallon had put me in his bed.

I peeled back the covers and tip-toed into the bathroom, my jaw nearly hitting the floor. All I noticed was marble: marble floors, marble counters, marble shower. The floor was warm beneath my feet. There was a note on the counter and a robe and towel folded beside it. I walked over and picked up the note.

“Amy, feel free to shower and use this robe.”

Dallon must have written it and left it there last night. I glanced at his shower. It was large with multiple dials and a bench—much nicer than the shower/tub combination in my apartment. I’d cleaned it a million times but was still tempted to wear sandals when I used it.

I stripped down, turned on the water and stepped in, exhaling with pleasure when the warm water hit my skin. A washcloth was folded on the bench. Dallon had thought of everything, and it was hard not to be impressed. I washed my face and then tried pushing the different buttons, shrieked when a cloud of mist shot out around me. Next, I shampooed my hair, lathering it around until the entire space smelled like Vanilla.

A long time later—I’d guess a half hour—I finally forced myself to get out. I toweled myself down and pulled on the robe. Then I ran a brush through my hair so that it would dry straight.

When I stepped out of his room, Dallon was in the kitchen and the smell of bacon wafted toward me. He was just showered as well and wearing a black, long sleeved shirt with the first few buttons undone. When I walked toward him, he glanced up and smiled. “Enjoyed your shower? I heard you singing.”

Oh no. I hadn’t realized I’d been singing. I smiled down at my feet as I climbed onto the stool in front of the breakfast bar. “You have a nice shower.”

“I do.” He added after a beat, “The one in the guest bathroom is nice too.”

The guest bathroom was probably that one that would have been mine, if I’d accepted his job offer. The thought made me uncomfortable so I changed the subject to the food. “I love bacon.”

“I’m glad,” he smiled broadly. “Did you sleep well?”

“Very. I think I was out when my head hit the pillow.”

“You were. I changed and grabbed a pair of clothes for today, and you didn’t move an inch.”

I smiled and looked down, secretly disappointed that I hadn’t been able to sneak a glance at him changing.

“You didn’t sneak out in the middle of the night this time,” he said with a half-smile.

“No, I didn’t.”

He made his way around the breakfast bar until he was standing in front of me. “So does that mean you’re not going to run anymore?” He said it like it was a joke, but I could sense the need behind it.

“I don’t think there’s a point anymore.”

“Because I will continue to pursue you?”

“Because you already have me,” I said softly. “There’s no point in trying to pretend otherwise.”

He grinned, picked a grape from the bowl on the counter, tossed it into his mouth. “So you’ve realized I’m not all that bad.”

“You can be all right when you want to be.”

He placed his hands on my knees and leaned down so that his face was inches across from mine. “I can be very nice when I want to be. With people I care about.”

“Exactly,” I whispered. His hands were pushing my legs open and I wasn’t wearing anything underneath my robe. I was pretty sure that if he glanced down, he would see everything.

Instead, he kissed my nose and stood, walked back around to his side of the breakfast bar. “Would you like a glass of orange juice??

??

“Yes, please,” I answered, my legs shaking.

“Do you remember much of last night?” he asked while he filled our glasses, mercifully facing away from me.

“I think so.”

He turned around and placed a glass in front of me. “And again you didn’t run, Miss Clair. I’m impressed.”

I took a sip, my heart rate accelerating. In actuality, I hadn’t remembered that part of the night until he’d asked me. Maybe I’d wanted to block it out, or maybe I was hoping he had been as drunk as well and had forgotten.

I watched as he scooped eggs onto two plates half covered in fruit. He placed the bacon in front of me, picked up our plates and came around the bar to sit beside me. I instantly began eating the fruit, grateful to have something healthy inside of me after last night. I hadn’t had that much to drink since I’d graduated.

“I assume you don’t work today, so we can continue our discussion after we eat,” he said, forking a strawberry.

“I don’t work at the café, no.” I took a deep breath. “But it’s my first day at Mix.”

Dallon stopped chewing. He swallowed, put his fork down on his plate carefully and wiped his mouth before speaking. “I thought we discussed how I feel about Mix.”

“You said that you don’t want me working there. There was no discussion.”

He looked at me sharply. “Now that we’re dating, I thought you’d respect my wishes.”

“We’re dating?”

I knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment I said it. Dallon swiveled in his stool to face me. “I thought last night cemented that. Or do you make a habit of fooling around without dating?”

---