Command (22 page)

“I’m not saying I want to be,” she hedged.

“I’ll get you dessert, regardless,” he promised.

“Whew. I was concerned.” She took a sip from her glass, and he waited, wondering if she had other questions. If she weren’t intrigued on some level, she wouldn’t ask.

“So… I could choose to have a beating and a rockin’ orgasm.”

“You could. But not all Doms are as generous with that.”

“The whole ratio thing,” she mused. “Like my one dozen—”

“Surely two dozen by now.”

“At least,” she said. “To your miserly few.”

“Few?”

“Couple?”

He raised his eyebrows.

“It is a little lopsided,” she agreed, tracing her finger around the rim of the glass.

“If you go to clubs,” he explained, “or play parties, you may find Doms who are willing to engage in a scene.” Even as he spoke, the idea of another Dom lashing her, coaxing a response from her, mind and body, made something go hard in his chest. “Often, sex won’t be a part of it. In fact, in some clubs, it’s not permitted.”

“To me, the two seem indelibly tied.”

“Because of the way I introduced it. But they aren’t to a lot of people. There are some who enjoy a good rousing spanking and that’s enough for them. And there are celibate D/s relationships. There’s no right way or wrong way to do any of this. Every vanilla couple does things their own way—so do kinky couples.”

“Kinky couples,” she repeated. “I like the way that sounds.”

Yeah.
So did he.

“The other day, we talked about dick worship.”

“Cock,” he corrected with a grin. “Cock worship.”

“I’m curious what that would entail.”

He was instantly erect. And he wanted her. “It might start with the sub’s hand.”

“Oh?” She put her down her glass.

For safety reasons, he did, too.

She placed her hand on his cock, and it was all he could do not to moan and let her know how much she affected him. “And the sub would very carefully watch the Dom’s reaction to see what he liked,” he said.

“Like this…?” She stroked him.

This time, he did groan. His words rough, he added, “She might make her grip a little tighter…”

For a second, she released him. Suddenly he comprehended how important touch was, understood why she’d been upset when he’d left her alone while he’d fetched a mirror.

Aria got onto her knees and faced him. She looked at him through those impossibly long eyelashes.

“Would she tell him how much she liked his cock?”

“She might. Yes.”

She stroked him, looked at him, teased him. “Would she casually mention how much she liked it when he fucked her?”

“Unless he forbade her from talking, he would probably enjoy that.” He felt a drop of pre-cum on his cockhead.

“Would she ever use her mouth on him?”

“She would. And she’d ask permission. She might even beg to please him.”

“Please?” she said softly.

Suddenly, it was all real, him and her.

He climbed from the bed and she scrambled off, too.

“Take off the T-shirt,” he said.

She pulled it off and laid it on the mattress.

“Kneel for me, Aria.”

She did, and, as he’d earlier instructed, waited for instruction.

“Lick my balls.”

Gently, then with a little more firmness, she did. He put one hand behind her head, to cradle it.

The best she could at the angle, she continued looking at him. Her compliance aroused him even more.

With unimaginable tenderness, she sucked one testicle into his mouth, laved it then moved on to the other.

Thoroughly she licked his balls. And she pressed a finger against his perineum. He jerked.

“How did you like that?” She moved her finger back a little to tease his anus.

It could take less than ten seconds to lose control here.

“Suck my cock, little subbie.”

“Yes, Sir.” The words were sexy, and so were her actions.

She ran her tongue around his cockhead and simultaneously stroked his shaft, even as she pushed the flat part of a finger against his ass.

“You are one hot woman.”

“I like to suck you,” she said. “The way you taste.”

She stroked him with her hand and drew him farther into her mouth with each motion. She took him deeper than any other woman had, and he felt his balls draw up tight.

He’d already known this woman was dangerous to him, but he’d had no idea the exact amount of her power until this moment. He tightened his grip on her, knowing he was close. “Stop.”

Ignoring him, she continued.

“Aria…”

She drew up a little and looked at him.

“Stop.”

“Please,” she asked. She pressed her thumb against the sensitive place on the underside of his cock. “Let me please you. Let me show you how much I want you.”

He nodded. “Finish me off.”

Aria went to work, sucking, licking, swallowing as she jerked her hand up and down. She kept a finger from the other hand against his anus, increasing the pressure just a little, shoving him over the edge.

He ground his back teeth together and thrust his hips forward as he ejaculated into her mouth. She continued to suck, until she’d gotten every drop.

“Yum,” she said when she finally looked up.

At some point, he’d put both of his palms on the side of her head.

The last tremor went through him, and he gently pulled her head back. She could not have done that better, even if she’d been the most perfectly trained submissive.

He helped her to stand, and he tugged her into his arms, holding her close.
How the hell am I ever going to let her go?

* * * *

“Ah! Aria, there you are,” Julien said when she walked into the workshop.

In the ten days she’d been at Grant’s house, Julien had checked in at least once a day. And she should be used to it. But seeing his face, much, much larger than life, still took her aback.

“What’s going on?” She slid onto a stool, put down her mug of coffee and offered the other one to Grant.

“Thank you,” he said with a smile.

Already she recognized that look.

To anyone else, it might appear to be a casual or grateful gesture. But she’d seen the way he’d perused her. His gaze had taken in her whole body, and he’d drawn his eyebrows together to communicate approval and a promise that he was thinking about the evening ahead.

“Tell me that’s not a caffeinated beverage,” Julien said.

“Mine even has vanilla spice creamer in it,” she said, “with a few chocolate chips, too.” She prepared to enjoy his shudder. He didn’t disappoint. “Grant had something he had to put into the blender for breakfast. Spinach, I think.”

“Kale,” he corrected.

“They’re not the same thing,” Julien added.

“They’re green and taste better warmed up with butter and salt. But it should counteract the caffeine, right?”

“You’ll ruin your adrenal glands.”

“But I’ll get more work done in the meantime.”

She and Grant clinked their mugs together.

In the time she’d been at his house, they’d had fallen into an easy routine. Midday, one of them would take a break, brew a second pot of coffee and bring back the manna for the other.

If Julien hadn’t intruded, Grant would be showing his appreciation right then.

“I was telling Grant we’re ready to begin beta testing Blanca’s app,” Julien continued, as if the conversation hadn’t taken a side street.

“Already? That was fast,” Aria responded.

She’d given the project to David for assignment and it surprised her that Julien would take an interest in a project this size when movies beckoned.

“I pride Bonds on being like a speedboat. Fast. Responsive. Able to spin. Turn on its axis in a millisecond.”

“Does a speedboat technically have an axis?” she asked, amused.

“I have no idea,” he responded, frowning.

“Grant?”

“It’s irrelevant,” Julien interrupted. “You understand my point.”

“When a beautiful woman is involved, a man will move the heavens,” Grant agreed.

“That was poetic,” she said.

“Thank you.”

“I’m hoping Blanca will go on a date with me, to show her gratitude,” Julien continued.

She looked at Grant.

He shrugged.

Julien’s focus on Blanca’s project explained a lot about his disheveled appearance. He was seated behind the desk in his Cupertino headquarters, a glass of something that could be carrot juice in front of him.

He was unshaven, and his button-down shirt was a bit rumpled. If her guess was right, he hadn’t gone home yesterday. He’d probably napped on the bed behind a partition in his office.

Which wasn’t all that unusual. Despite admonishments to his staff to rest and take their vacation time, he often spent the night at work. The mattress, she had been told, boasted fourteen hundred thread count sheets.

“What’s the next step?” Grant asked.

“I can reach out to her,” she said. “Let her know where we’re at, give her an update, let her know what to expect.”

“You need to focus on your current project,” Julien replied. “And testing protocols will be initiated with the mainframe.”

“That’s Bonds speak,” Grant said.

“Bonds speak?”

“Basically…it means his reason is subterfuge.”

She grinned. “Bullshit?”

“Exactly. He wants an excuse to call Ms. Montoya. And it has to look as if it’s business. You’re one of his top people, you’re very, very busy, but the project matters so much to you that you sent it to the boss for personal attention.”

She could only guess how personal. “How long have you two been reading each other’s minds?”

“Since college,” Grant said.

Julien shrugged and took a drink of his juice without wrinkling his nose. No matter how unhealthy, she personally preferred her artificially sweetened, potentially adrenal-gland killing coffee. More and more, she was learning to appreciate each moment, the more delicious, the better.

“So how’s your project coming?”

She waited to see if Grant would reply.

Eventually, he did. “Slow. It’s evolving. We’re hoping to have it put together for you soon.”

“Most important thing is to relax,” Julien coached them. “You can’t force genius.”

“Helllllllo, Genius.”

At the sound of Molly’s voice, Julien grinned.

“You’ve given her some interesting verbal cues,” Grant said.

“She does like having her…
components
adjusted.”

Aria rolled her eyes. “I’m beginning to wonder if you two mentally left college.”

They looked at each other. Simultaneously, they shook their heads.

“Every time I ping you, I hope you’re not there,” Julien admitted, and he actually sounded a bit disappointed.

“We could pretend,” Aria said. “Maybe actually get something productive done.”

“Nah. Molly would tell me the truth. Isn’t that right?”

“Helllllllo, Genius.”

Julien’s grin was the last thing they saw before the wall went blank.

“He didn’t even say toodles,” she protested.

“The bastard,” Grant sympathized.

Since the afternoon was overcast, they’d again selected the sunny Caribbean as their work background picture. She decided she might want the projection ability in her California office and her apartment.

The idea of going back gnawed at her.

Grant was starting to mean something to her, and she was enjoying the introduction into BDSM.

But reality loomed and there was no denying it.

There were business trips she couldn’t skip. As much as she adored Grant, she wanted to see her parents, her friends.

They’d made progress, and it had been exciting to work together and to play together. But that was all it was.

Grant had made it abundantly clear he wasn’t leaving New Mexico, no matter what Julien demanded. He’d resisted all her attempts to get him to do practice presentations. When he’d moved to Los Alamos, he’d clearly cut off the old part of his life. Maybe he hadn’t come to heal. Maybe he’d run.

“In front of people, Julien’s a natural,” he’d told her.

“Julien’s
not
a natural,” she’d countered. “He gets out there, begins to talk, builds to a crescendo. He has an idea of what he wants to say, but he uses a scriptwriter.”

“No he doesn’t.”

“The hell he doesn’t. Every word he says in public is vetted. Mostly, though, he lets his passion shine through. He’s more awkward than anything, but no one cares… Well, except for the haters and the handful of critics who love to tear down Bonds so they get readers. You know, the ones who go to bed with a thesaurus so they can find new ways to insult our latest technological feat. But the truth is, people want to be excited, so he gives them that. Our products aren’t gadgets. They’re a way to make lives better. He believes it, so he communicates that—the idea, the hope, passion.”

As she’d spoken, she’d paced across the workshop, and he’d sat there, seemingly captivated, but also unmoved. When she’d asked what he’d thought, he’d said he’d consider it then had changed the subject.

They’d spent the rest of that day with tension worming between them, until he’d taken her to bed, tied her up, and communicated in a way that made words unnecessary.

And now, his gaze was riveted on her as she took a drink of her sugar-laced, cavity-causing coffee.

“You didn’t really put chocolate chips in there, did you?”

“Really I did. Would you like a taste?” She offered the cup.

“Yeah. Put it down and come here.”

That was her favorite kind of taste, as well…

She went into his arms, and he kissed her deeply, gently at first. He didn’t need to coax her response, she offered it. From the moment their tongues touched, desire arced through her. At times he was soft and gentle, expressing reverence. At others, he was demanding and urgent, but always, he expressed his moods, his intentions through his touch.

He tugged her sweater up and off.

“Here?” she asked.

“Here.”

At the desire that made his eyes smoky, she trembled.

She toed off her shoes and shucked her jeans and undergarments as he fished a condom from his pocket and pulled off his clothes.