Adrianna's Undies (3 page)

She’d been so young then, impetuous and naïve compared to now. She’d thought it would satisfy her to live a normal life—marriage, kids, the whole nine yards. But somewhere along the way, she’d changed her mind. Maybe when he’d started talking about L.A., asking her go with him. She’d been surprised by how vehemently the notion repelled her. She’d realized she wanted to do her own thing, be her own woman. And she’d never looked back. Until now.

She really had loved him once upon a time. The chemistry they’d shared, the utter passion that had passed between them, had nearly set the sheets on fire.

And now…now he’d come to her threatening to steal her company if she didn’t submit to him sexually.

How utterly barbaric. Not to mention archaic.

And yet she’d agreed.

She wasn’t sure why. She could have taken legal action. At the very least, she could have reported him to his higher-ups—if he even
had
higher-ups.

But perhaps she was also…curious. To see his body again. To fuck him again. To look into those dark, green eyes while he was inside her again.

Was he the boy who’d once loved her? Or was he now truly, wholly the arrogant, dominant man she’d met in her office the other day? Maybe some long forgotten part of her had wanted to find out.

And…one night of sex, no matter how distasteful it might turn out to be, seemed…well,
bearable
—if it meant saving her company from a hostile takeover. Again, there were no assurances he would keep his word, but in that way, she trusted him.

Finding a house phone, she dialed the room number he’d given her.

“Hello,” he answered.

Despite herself, merely hearing his deep voice—deeper than in their youth—sent a frisson of heat racing down her spine. “It’s me,” she said. Other than the conversation in her office, they’d not talked in fifteen years, but she still knew he’d know who “me” was.

“Come on up.”

She blinked, surprised. “I thought we were going out.”

“We are. But first you’re coming up.”

“Why?” Now her heart beat a little faster—more nervousness.

“Because I said so.”

Adrianna didn’t reply. She wasn’t mentally prepared for sex yet. She’d planned to get that way over dinner. She’d decided that if he somehow seemed more like his old self and if, therefore, the sex didn’t feel so…threatening, she’d be open-minded about it. But if, over dinner, he’d seemed like the same controlling asshole who’d come to her office, she would shut off her brain, consider it nothing more than an unpleasant task to be accomplished, then get through it without feeling anything and call it a day—or a night. That had been the plan. But now he’d summoned her to his room, and so far, he seemed more
asshole
than
old self
.

“I’m starving,” she lied. “If we’re going out anyway, what’s the point of me coming up to your room?”

On the other end of the line, she heard him making a
tsk
ing noise. “Adrianna, Adrianna, Adrianna,” he scolded softly. “Did you forget our agreement? You do what I say tonight, without question.
Starting now. Come to my room
.”

Her inclination was to argue. She
detested
taking orders from men, especially arrogant ones. But if she argued even once more, he could bring the game to an end and declare her the loser. She couldn’t risk that.

“You’ll need a key card to access my floor, which I’ve left for you at the concierge desk,” he said then hung up the phone.

Her chest tightened. No, he wasn’t going to be his old self. He was going to treat her as if…well, as if he were the master and she was the slave, just as he’d told her. Any hope she’d held out for anything else had been silly. Now she just had to do this, just get through it, and hope she could keep
on
biting her tongue every time she wanted to protest.

As she got the key card from the concierge, who also supplied “Mr. Locke’s” room number, then started toward the elevators, she did her best to power down her emotions, to
stop…feeling…anything
. Except purpose.
Get through this and he’s gone, your company is no longer threatened and you can forget all about it.
She only hoped the experience of forcing herself to be submissive wouldn’t
completely
crush her already-waning interest in sex.

Five minutes later, she found herself in the exact last place she’d ever expected—knocking on Tristan’s door.

He opened it wearing an expensive-looking black suit with a charcoal gray shirt and a black silk tie. Dominant executive chic, she supposed. Every dark hair was in place and his chin sported just a hint of stubble, something she didn’t remember from their college days. His eyes twinkled as he said, simply, “Good girl.” About coming up, she supposed, following her first direct order.

She didn’t reply, merely walked into the room, which, it turned out, was a suite. Done in warm colors, it felt at once comfortable but luxurious. The head of the large bed sat against a tall, dark wall, from which floor-to-ceiling windows extended at an angle on each side so that, effectively, one would feel surrounded by the lights of Las Vegas Boulevard while in bed.

Of course, it was hard to concentrate on the bed while her “master in Armani” looked her over from head to toe. She’d worn a midnight blue wrap dress with a beaded neckline, a functional yet attractive garment that showed off her body without being overtly sexy, and she’d not bothered to straighten or curl her long, dark hair, so it fell in soft ripples down her back. She had plenty of clothes that
were
sexy, but she just hadn’t wanted to start the evening out with Tristan that way—it would have felt too much like pandering to him. And she’d had no intention of going to any
trouble
for him, hence not doing anything to her hair. He might make her submit to him tonight—but it was
his
game, not hers.

“Take off your clothes.”

She let out a huff of breath at the unexpected command—which she probably
should have
expected. But damn it, even coming up on the elevator, she’d hoped maybe the action wasn’t going to start quite yet. Or that maybe at least the sex would be…well, different than he’d hinted at, more romantic and less “master and slave”. Not that she’d cared about romance, but seeing him again did take her back to the one time in her adult life when she’d experienced true romance, true caring for a man.

But she’d been correct in her thinking after he’d first summoned her to his room—it was not to be.

So, as he stood watching from probably ten feet away, she did as he instructed. Untying the thin bow at one hip, she let the dress fall open, then off her shoulders and onto the floor. She stood before him in a matching demi-bra and panty set of cream lace trimmed in blue ribbon, atop a pair of navy stiletto pumps. The panties were actually a thong, and though she didn’t usually
feel
her thongs, at this moment, she grew aware of the thin strip of fabric lining the valley of her ass as her cunt pulsed lightly under Tristan’s scrutiny. Indeed, his gaze made her skin sizzle against her will.

“Nice underwear.”

“One of my recent designs.”

“From the Lavish Lace collection,” he said, surprising her. “Now take it off.”

Her stomach contracted. “Already?”

“Already.”

Damn it, why did she keep letting herself be surprised by him? “But I thought you
liked
lingerie.”

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly—but then his expression hardened again. “I do. But take it off.
Now
.”

She wanted to argue some more.
You used to like to go slower, to peel it off me, bit by bit. And aren’t we eating? I’m hungry. I expected dinner. You said we were going out.
Yet again she bit her tongue. It wasn’t easy, but she had to. Her corporation depended on it.

So instead of answering, she reached behind her and delicately unhooked her bra. As it loosened around her, she realized how sensitized her breasts had become—damn him and his lusty, sparkling eyes. The soft flesh tingled just from the slide of the lace against her skin, and she could feel her nipples tightening into stiff peaks as she drew the bra away, letting it drop.

A glance down revealed she was correct—the tips of her breasts had constricted into hard pink buds—and his eyes on her made her burn even hotter inside.

“Keep going,” he prodded.

She didn’t hesitate, her unwitting arousal beginning to override her hunger at the moment. Slipping her thumbs into the elastic at her hips, she pushed the scant thong down to her thighs, after which it dropped to her ankles. She stepped free from it, careful not to catch her heels in the lace, then stood before him, entirely naked now.

She wanted to ask him questions.
Do you like what you see? Do you like the way I keep my pussy shaved?
She hadn’t yet adopted that habit in college.
Do you want to lick it?

She kept her mouth shut, however, through sheer will. And suffered another bout of anger because she
had
to keep her mouth shut, and because it had been so undeniably arousing to reveal herself to this man who insisted on bossing her.

“You’re body is fucking beautiful, baby,” he said then, his voice deep and laced with raw sex. His eyes roamed her freely until they came back to stop at her chest. “Those are bigger than I remember. Did you get…”

“Implants? No.” She knew her breasts were among her best features. “I just…filled out a bit in my twenties.”

“In all the right places.”

Despite herself, the compliment pleased her. She worked out, had spa treatments, and she’d even had a bit of cellulite removed from her ass—but the reality was, although her 34DDs stood at firm attention, over time her hips had gotten a smidge too wide for her taste and her tummy was not as flat as it had once been.

But he truly didn’t see that. She could tell.

And that aroused her too, damn it. He saw her tits, her enhanced curves, her smooth cunt, and he wanted her. She pleased him.

She’d never been into pleasing men—she was usually much more concerned with making sure
they
pleased
her
, but she found herself unduly flattered, glad, deep down inside, that he still found her body attractive all these years later, even if it had changed and matured.

It surprised her when he turned and walked away to a chest of drawers across the room.

But having his eyes off her, even just briefly, gave her a chance to think, to feel…normal again. Normal for her. All of her adult life, and certainly in matters of sex, she’d always felt in control. Even on the few occasions when she’d willingly
given up
control, it had been her
decision
, which meant that, deep down, the control had remained.

But this already felt different, so odd—it made her feel like someone else, like someone she didn’t know, some younger, more malleable woman. Her heart beat with anxiety over what the night would hold; her mind raced and her skin rippled with that damn unbidden lust he’d brought out in her so quickly. Who
was
this woman? Not Adrianna Kline, corporate mogul and sexually dominant female, that was for sure. And in spite of herself, her pussy wept as she waited to see what Tristan was going to do to her.

He returned, lowering to the nearby bed a hot pink shopping bag bearing the Adrianna, Inc. logo.

She held in her gasp but couldn’t help being shocked.
I’ll be damned. He’s going to torture me with my very own creations.

“Sit down,” he told her.

She took a few steps to a nearby chair, unable not to notice how the plush fabric caressed her bare ass as she lowered herself into it.

Then she watched as Tristan knelt before her—a switch in position, at least mentally, which she liked.

But as he lifted one of her feet in his hand, she realized he’d only stooped down to remove her shoes. And—damn it to hell—even that, his slight touch on the back of her ankle as he took off one pump, made her pussy ache with desire. She kept her mouth shut, her lips pursed, trying not to feel, and certainly trying not to let him see any response from her. Even if all she could think about was her body, bared for him, her subordinate position here, which she began to feel more and more, even if he
was
kneeling before her.

After removing both shoes, Tristan reached for the bag and pulled out a pair of—oh God, no! The black leather underwear was from her Sinsuous Leather line and called the Ultimate Pleasure Panties. In addition to being utterly crotchless, they possessed small rubber knobs cleverly sewn in between a layer of leather and silk at both the front and back at the spots just before the fabric split to leave the cunt on display. The knobs were designed to stimulate the clit and anus with every move a woman made, and, Adrianna knew from experience, served their purpose quite well even when she wasn’t moving at all.

Again, Adrianna did her best not to react.

Tristan said nothing, but only held the titillating undies open before her, indicating that she should slip her feet into the appropriate leg openings.

She did so, expecting that she would take over then, pulling the most physically arousing piece of lingerie she’d ever designed up into place around her hips. However, to her surprise, Tristan didn’t let go.
He
began to pull them up. Over her smooth calves and above her knees. “Stand up,” he said.

Adrianna stood, watching as her old lover drew the sin-inspiring panties up into place. The sewn-in rubber nubs pressed directly to her already-swollen clit and asshole, and it was all she could do not to suck in her breath at the vivid sensations.

The move had also brought her face-to-face with Tristan, who’d risen to his feet at the same time she did—although he towered over her now that she’d lost her heels. “Ultimate Pleasure Panties,” he said, a wicked gleam in his eyes.

“I know,” she said, hoping for the sake of Adrianna, Inc. that she’d kept the curtness from her voice. “I designed them.”

“You’re a naughty girl, Adrianna.”

“Always have been, Tristan, or did you forget?”

He smiled slightly. “Not possible. But I suspect you’re even naughtier now than you were then.”