Page 35 of First Comes Revenge

CHARLI

Iworry the magic might slip by as we ride to his place from the zoo. It’s one thing to agree to go sleep with a guy in the heat of the moment. It’s another to let minutes pass and hope passions haven’t cooled. Besides, how am I supposed to do this? Vaughn always just gave me this dumb look and said, “can I do you tonight?” Those five words became about as exciting to me as “can you pick up some milk?” or “did you know tonight’s a full moon?”

This feels so different.

I’m still buzzing with heat by the time we get out of the car and head into his building. I have time to wonder if he’s going to want to warm up to it once we’re inside with drinks or conversation. I’m trying to plan out what I’ll say when he works the key to his apartment. I barely get to see how nice it is before his hands are on me. His mouth is on mine. His body is practically one with mine.

We’re kissing, feeling, and walkingsomewhere.He picks me up again and carries me, giving me a chance to look around his place. It’s decorated like a true bachelor pad, but huge for a Manhattan apartment. There’s a steel staircase that looks antique winding up to a half second floor that’s partly exposed from down here.

“Wow,” I say, craning my neck to look over his shoulder as he pushes open a door to his bedroom. “This place is beautiful.”

“You can take a tour later,” he says gruffly.

I run my tongue over my lips. “What if I want a tour first?”

He tosses me on the bed. I land on my ass, hands planted behind myself and knees bent over the edge. “You’re serious?” His hair has fallen out of place and dangles in front of his eyes. The heat in his brown eyes is almost comical. He wants this as badly as I do. I can see it all over his face, and Iloveit. He’s not afraid to show me how much he wants me, and I can’t even describe how sexy I find that.

“What if I am?” I ask, just because I’m feeling a little bratty.

He puts his hands on his hips, looming over me. My question looks like it’s physically paining him. “Then I might die of blue balls before we finish, but…”

“Come here,” I laugh, reaching up to grab his tie. I tug him toward me and he falls over me, fists planted on either side of me as he kisses me. He moves from my lips to my neck, mouth greedily claiming every inch of me. He kisses my earlobe and a hot trail down the side of my neck, giving me chills when he runs his lips softly along my collarbone. He whispers and his breath is hot against my chest. “I get a little bossy,” he says, warning me.

“That’s okay,” I breathe. It’s ridiculous, but I feel like I’m already halfway to climax just from his lips on me. I’m still fully clothed.

He looks up with fresh heat in his eyes. I can see from his expression there’s something different there. Something harder and steely.

I bite my lip, watching him and waiting.

He slowly moves down my body, dragging the tip of his nose between my breasts and the fabric of my dress, kissing my belly through my clothes. He stands, then beckons for me to stand with one curled finger. “Stand up.”

My eyebrow twitches up, but I obey. I get up and straighten my dress, brushing out the wrinkles we just made. I reach up to touch my hair and fix that too, but his hand lifts suddenly, palm toward me. “No,” he says. “Leave it. I like you messy. It’s my mess.” He steps inside my space, running his hand roughly through my hair as a satisfied grin pulls at his lips. “I get to see you this way. Nobody else.” He meets my eyes, and I think maybe he’s waiting for a response, so I nod my head.

“Good girl,” he says. There is definitely something bossy and commanding in his tone. Something new, different, and a little kinky.

His words send a fresh rush of heat through me. I’ve always been a people pleaser, but I’ve never had a man find a way to bring that aspect of my personality into the bedroom. I can already feel the potential of this dynamic, and I’m hungry for more. I want to please him. I want to be his good girl, and I even like how dirty that feels in my mind.

I wait, and Jameson slowly starts to take his tie off. There’s something deliberate and infinitely sexy about it. It’s in the way he’s watching me, eyes never leaving mine.

“Hands?” he says. It’s a request this time.

I tilt my head, then I see he has pulled a pair of handcuffs from the nightstand beside his bed. He’s dangling it, waiting and watching to see what I say. I think back to our texts where he joked about bringing handcuffs for him. I realize he might not have been kidding. “Will it hurt?” I ask. “I’ve never…” I trail off, embarrassed.

He steps closer. “Don’t worry,” he says. For a moment, I feel like he’s letting the commanding air drop so I know I can back out if I’m uncomfortable. “I don’t have a closet full of whips and chains and leather masks, if that’s what you’re wondering. I just… I like to take control.” He runs a fingertip down my cheek, eyes following its trail. “I know how to take care of your needs, and it’s easier if you give me all your trust. You sit back, I drive. Alright?”

I pull my lower lip under my teeth, nodding. I stick my hands out together for him. “Like this?”

He slides the cuffs over my wrist and squeezes them around me. He leaves enough space for a few fingers to fit between my skin and the cold metal.

“Arms up,” he says.

I obey, lifting my arms over my head.

His fingertips brush against my skin as he lifts my dress from my thighs to my neck. And then he pauses, looking at the way it’s stuck on the handcuffs.

He points a warning finger at me. “No escaping when I undo these.”

“Okay,” I say, smiling. “Do you… not do this often?” I ask, wondering why a man who has handcuffs beside his bed wouldn’t know to get me undressed first.

---