Sweet Seduction Surrender (18 page)

Oh, blissful heaven. This was why I'd chosen to take another risk. No one made me feel like Jason did.

"When are you seeing him again?" he demanded, chestnut staring me down.

"He's away on business for the next few days, we're corresponding via email and phone." My answer was swift and honest. I wasn't so sure that pushing Jason's buttons had been an entirely good idea, despite the return to familiar and much wanted - no,
needed
- ground.

He nodded, pleased with my response or the speed of it, I couldn't tell which. "Then I guess I'll have to help you get this design out of the way." His tone made me think he'd meant to say,
out of your life for good
.

"And how are you going to help me, Jason?" I asked, the smile I'd fought earlier starting to show at the edges of my lips. His eyes darted down to watch the movement.

"Oh, I don't know, Kate. Filling your mind up with better things than a fancy arse room full of art, maybe. Making you focus on something else other than that twat's
design
."

"That's not actually helping me get the project out of the way. I've signed a contract, I have to complete it," I pointed out, enjoying this jealous side of Jason he was suddenly showing a little too much.

"Baby," he said with a wink. "I'm gonna be your muse."

My breath left me in a rush and he began to frown, seeing my stunned reaction. Jason had been my muse once before already. A muse that allowed me to create a masterpiece which was going to bring me more business, I was sure. But, how did he know? Was I that obvious?

"How?" I managed to get out, but no more.

"How what, Kate? What have I said wrong?"

"How did you know?" I finally asked, but he was obviously still confused, because he just kept frowning down at me, his hand in my hair gently caressing my scalp, the other stroking my side tenderly. Even in confusion Jason soothed me.

"How did you know you're my muse?" It must have been the way I said it. I hadn't been precise in my words, incapable of being completely coherent. I hadn't been specific, told him he had been my muse once before and when. But he must have understood my meaning, because the frown disappeared and the sun came out from behind the clouds.

"Kate, Kate, Kate. Now how exactly did I inspire you?" he murmured, as his body sunk further into mine, until his hips were between my thighs and I could tell he'd moved on to the better part of our conversation. "I want details," he whispered, rocking his hips slowly against me, making me suck in faster and faster breaths. "I want times," he added. "I want to know that you affect me as much as I affect you. And that it's all good, baby."

He leaned down and slanted his lips across mine. Once. Twice. Then on the third time he groaned and deepened the connection until I was writhing and moaning and digging my fingers into his back. Begging for more.

He pulled back, panting. "Tell me," he instructed. "Tell me and I promise you, I'll give you inspiration that will blow your beautiful mind."

"Jason," I murmured, letting my eyes show how much affect he had over me. "I think you've been my muse since you barged into my life," I said, then added, "But since you've slipped into my bed you've set everything on fire."

"Fire, baby?" he murmured, nuzzling his lips into my neck, trailing kisses around to my throat. "I like that," he whispered, nipping and sucking, working his way down over my chest to my breasts. "I want to be your inspiration, your muse," he said, voice low and gruff.

He latched onto to a taut nipple through my nightdress, and worked it and me to a frenzy until I was pressing back up into his groin with fervent need. Rocking against each thrust of his hips, desperate for him to take this to the next level.

"Because, Kate," he said, pulling back to blow hot breath across moistened skin through the damp material. I shivered. Then offered a full body shudder when he added in a husk, "You're my saviour. The one person who makes it all so much easier. The one person I can't live without anymore."

He threw his attention into my neglected breast and nipple, allowing me a moment to get lost in the sensations and his admission just now.

I was his saviour.
His anchor. I liked that. I wanted that. I needed him to have that.

"Baby," he groaned, quickly removing his boxer shorts, then lifting my thigh high, once he'd settled back in place, to allow himself better access. And then with a slow thrust forward of his hips, he sank to the hilt deep inside my core. I gasped and he moaned an erotic sound above me. "I love you," he added, the words spilling from his lips with such ease.

Oh my Lord, I hadn't expected that. I had not expected Jason Cain to open up his heart to that degree. He was a messed up, slightly broken man, who needed to control his environment or float away into the darkness that threatened each day.

But somehow he'd found the strength to say those words, to put it out there. To strip himself naked and stand before me; a man in love. To let go of his past. And to let me in.

"Jason," I said on a breath filled with such delicious emotions, as he diligently sought my own form of release.

"Let go, baby," he demanded in a thick voice. "Just let go."

So I did. On his command, but very much willingly. I gave in to the sensations he was creating, and gave in to my heart.

"I love you too," I managed to cry, as an orgasm swamped me; rolls and rolls of wave upon wave of rapture washing over my frame from head to toe. Shuddering through my nerve endings, firing off shocks of electricity through my skin, throughout my body, through my head and heart. I felt alive and present, but also conversely floating on a cloud of true ecstasy, that wasn't just confined to my flesh anymore.

No, what I felt was all consuming. It involved every single part of me, every cell. My body. Heart. Mind. And soul.

"Kate!" Jason cried out on his own release. "Oh, Kate," he said after several hard thrusts had segued into slow steady rocks of his hips. "Oh, baby," he murmured, cradling me in his arms, as the last of our orgasms waned.

He kissed the side of my neck, where his face was buried. Our breaths slowing, but our hearts still beating equally as fast as each other's.

"I'm never letting you go," Jason murmured, his whole body relaxing into mine.

"I won't let you," I replied, stroking a hand down his sweat soaked back.

And I meant it. We'd found our way back to each other. The pain he'd caused was healing. And if he broke again, I would be
his
reason to heal.

I would be his anchor. Just as he was my muse. And always would be.

Jason was making breakfast. He said it was the only meal of the day he was any good at. I didn't complain, not when my mind was already replaying the events of this morning and somehow turning those erotic sensual images into a design that would steal people's breaths when they walked into Tremayne Arts.

I was twisting the Montgomery-Smith's final look, using the same materials in different colours to obtain a faster finished product - sourcing furnishings took time, I was short on that - and lifting the whole concept drawing to another level completely. I couldn't even stop myself from going directly to my office after I'd showered and dressed. I bypassed the kitchen and a barely dressed Jason so I could put pencil to paper and sketch a few of my more luxurious ideas before they fled my mind.

By the time Jason found me, tray of food and steaming mugs of coffee in hand, I'd rough drawn three different areas of the final concept. I was on a roll, and Jason must have picked up on that. He simply placed the tray down on a side table, passed me my coffee and a slice of toast, and then sat down to eat his own while he watched.

I nibbled on the bread, interspersed my flurried pencil drawing with a sip of caffeine, but never stopped pouring my thoughts onto the sketchpad in front of me. By the time Jason cleared the tray - having been hand fed some fresh fruit and yoghurt, but too busy to contemplate anything else - I'd finished my initial concept art in two hours flat.

I sat back and stared at the array of images spread across my desk; amused, dumbfounded and totally ecstatic.

"You know," I said, not looking over my shoulder, but knowing Jason was standing just there, "for a muse, you rock."

He laughed out loud at that, a deep, freeing sound from right inside his chest. I turned in my seat to look at him, as he leaned against the door frame, smile in full force.

"You finished already?" he asked, surprise lacing every word.

"Just the concepts. I now have to polish them, transfer them to my laptop and make them look professional, then make a detailed list of furnishings I'll use, including a floor plan and structural guide for the builders.
Then
I'll be finished."

"Oh," Jason said, stepping into the room properly and coming to stand behind my desk. "So a little longer then?"

I huffed out a breath. "I'll be working late," I pointed out. "I probably won't break for lunch and dinner will have to be an at-the-desk affair." I turned fully in my chair to face him, he took the necessary steps to bring himself between my legs, still standing over me, but his hands already twining my hair around his fingers, as his eyes devoured my face.

"I should let you get on with it then," he murmured, not making any move away. "I need to go for a run and check on things at the flat anyway. How about I bring back dinner at about six?"

I glanced back at my desk reluctantly, his hands in my hair were just too nice.

"Make it eight," I suggested, bringing my eyes back to his. "And the next week will be pretty high pressure. I need to contact the builders I use and get ASI on board."

"ASI?" Jason asked, interrupting my train of thoughts.

I nodded. "Yes, Richard wants security for the store and suggested I liaise with ASI as he doesn't have the time."

"Is that normal? Do interior designers handle that side of things directly?"

"Yes and no," I replied. It was a little unusual, but often a designer was handed a comprehensive brief, that included amenities such as that. I just hadn't heard of it happening much in New Zealand. Perhaps it was more common overseas. "It's new to me though," I admitted. "I'm charging my client an arm and a leg for the service though, so that's got to count for something."

Jason smiled down at me with determined approval, his movements in my hair stilling. "From now on he is
always
'your client'. Not Richard. Not anymore."

I frowned at him. "Will you demand this of all my clients?"

"No," he said swiftly. "Just the ones who try to make out they're your date." Ah. "Understand, Kate?" he asked, tightening his hands in my hair. The message was clear; his tone of voice mixed with that short, sharp command. This was Jason the Dominant. He'd finally brought him out into the light for me to see.

A frisson of excitement swept through me;
this
was what I craved, what I feared I'd lost. Jason's demands and my capitulation. There was no denying I thrived on this.

And thankfully - maybe because he'd only ever demand what I could give - it wasn't something I felt the need to fight over. Richard
was
my client and although I'd handled the situation less than perfectly, I had no desire to give the man any more false ideas.

"I understand, Jason," I said, feeling his body relax. Feeling his hands start up a soft, soothing motion in my hair against my head. A massage that alleviated any tension the topic had caused. It was an easy enough thing to give him. And, if I looked at his demand neutrally, it wasn't an unreasonable request at all.

"Kate," he murmured. "You are perfect for me, do you know that?"

I smiled up at him, but he wasn't done.

"Not many women would accept such a bald faced directive without bristling at the imposition it caused, or the tone it was delivered in." He looked thoughtful for a moment. Then added with a long drawn out sigh, "I crave the control, but I'd crumble if you couldn't handle my demands."

He was such a contradiction. Demanding, controlling, but fearful of each command that slipped through his lips, as though he didn't truly want to be this way. He needed it, I'd even say it ruled him, this desire to control his world. But it conversely threatened to tear him apart. The fear that I would walk away because it was restricting, too limiting, too one sided.

What he didn't realise was, the Jason who turned me on, who I was irrevocably attracted to, was the man who made the demands, who asked in that abrupt way of his, "Understand?" It sent a thrill through my body no other man had ever managed to elicit. It made me wet with wanting. Craving his firm hand and forceful instructions. I lived to hear his next demand. I hungered for his next directive. I
loved
it when he showed his true colours.

"Don't for a minute believe I want you any other way, Jason Cain," I said, standing up from my chair to bring me closer to his body. "The second you stop being you, is the moment you should fear most."

He looked down at me, his hands loose at his sides as they'd fallen from my hair when I shifted to stand. He held my gaze for several seconds, then sucked in a short sharp breath.

"Do you want more?" he asked, voice low. Could I handle more?

"Is there more?" I asked instead.

"Kate, I would have you stripped before me for our pleasure in an instant, if I thought you'd accept my proposition."

"What do you mean?" I asked, my heart leaping into my throat excitedly. Aroused by something I didn't yet completely comprehend.

"We talked about rules, remember?" I blinked up at him, trying to remember any rules. "You wanted me shirtless when in your house." I flicked my gaze over his naked chest. He'd followed my rule to the letter. "I said I'd want you without underwear in mine."

Oh. I nodded.

He leaned in, hot breath fanning my lips, as he whispered, "I'm extending my rule." I swallowed, seeing the lust build in his eyes. "You wear skirts when you're with me." Oh, OK. I could do that. "No matter where we are. Inside our homes. In the car. Out on the street. At Gen and Dom's Sunday barbecues."

I nodded. A part of me, on a base level, wanting nothing more than the eroticism that notion brought with it. The easy access of a skirt, not trousers.

"That's not the end of the rule," he pointed out. "But I like your enthusiasm." His grin was infectious. I smiled back up at him and he chuckled. "Kate," he said, bringing his lips within skimming distance of mine. "I want you to never wear panties when you're with me either."

My eyes searched his face for the joke. There wasn't one.

"A skirt and no underwear?" I said, stunned. But remarkably feeling incredibly turned on. A small surprised breath of air left me.

He nodded, neck stiff making the nod short and sharp. He was on edge again, waiting for my surrender. Unsure if I'd go for such a blatantly sexual command while in public.

"Anywhere, as long as I'm with you?" I asked, needing complete clarification. But well aware my body had provided the answer already.

"If you're not with me you're fully clothed, but as soon as we're together, baby, you lose the knickers. Understand?"

I licked my lips, a nervous and equally excited reflex action. His eyes darted down to the movement and he made that growling sound at the back of his throat. Seeing my capitulation in my body's physical reaction to his demands.

"I'm with you now, Kate," he pointed out. I immediately dropped my gaze to the jeans I'd put on that morning, making me in breach of his rules. "I'll give you a countdown from three," he whispered, voice so low and seductive it was hard to decipher the words. "Then I'm stripping you naked for the rest of the day. Bare arse naked. You'll sit at your desk naked. You'll eat dinner naked. You'll email your client your design while naked. You'll answer the phone naked. Then you'll present yourself to me at the end of the day... naked. Understand?"

"A countdown from three," I said with a nod, feeling aroused, excited, frantic with need, and about to combust all at once.

Oh, I was so on board with Jason's naughty rules.

"Three!" he said loudly, stepping back and allowing room to move.

I took a step away from my chair toward the door.

"Here, Kate. Remedy your transgression here. Now."

My transgression? Oh, he was pushing things. But then I saw his smile, amusement and laughter dancing behind the grin. He was loving this, and the relaxed way he beamed at me, waiting for me to fight back or run, seemed to lighten the moment and turn the whole event into a seductive game.

He wanted me to fix things here, strip out of my jeans and underwear in front of him, just as much as he wanted me to say no and deny his command. And in all honesty? I was having a hell of a time deciding which option would be more fun. Doing a seductive little striptease to make his blood boil and hopefully bring the man to his knees. Or standing my ground, ensuring he'd carry through with his punishment; stripping me naked and making me stay that way for the rest of the day.

"Two!"

I jumped. I needed to make a decision. It was one thing to
willingly
allow a particular path to be taken, but to not commit myself to the final outcome seemed like I had relinquished all control.

And that there let me know just how Jason Cain worked. He was still the one calling the shots, but within his demands he'd allowed me some power. Only some, because to outright deny would be impossible, he would still get his way in the end. But if I didn't like these controlling games he played, then I shouldn't be here with the man, should I?

Just as well I loved them then, isn't it?

I undid my top jeans button and within moments had my knickers and jeans down my legs, as my butt went up in the air, pushing the garments to my ankles.

"Stop!" he instructed, when I went to lift a foot out of one trouser leg and straighten up.

He began a slow walk around me, my head still down, my bare arse poking skywards, as he came to rest at my back. He stood there for several long seconds, not touching, just taking his fill of my current displayed state

"You're beautiful," he rasped. Yeah, he was going to be on his knees before too much longer, I could tell.

"Can I move?" I asked, when he continued to just look at me.

"Spread your legs as far as your jeans will allow," he said, suddenly. I followed his command hoping it would mean he'd finally touch me. I was ahead on my design for now, a little recreational distraction could be allowed in the limited time-frame I was working with. "Rest your head down on the chair." My desk chair was ideally placed to support my upper body, but leave my rear still higher and on open display. "Play with yourself," he husked behind me, as I heard the soft, muted sound of the buttons on his fly coming undone.

I whimpered, but raised a hand to between my thighs and started rubbing a finger across my nub, coating it in the slick moisture that had already gathered there.

"Use your fingers to spread your folds apart," he murmured, the sound of his palm stroking his erection the only other noise in the room right then. I did as he asked, feeling cool air coat my sensitive centre. "Dip two fingers inside," he commanded, his own breaths and movements picking up speed.

I slowly sunk the digits inside, then took the liberty of pumping them several times in sync with the sound of his own stroking. I moaned at the image I had in my mind of him at my back, pleasuring himself as he watched me doing the same.

"Fuck!" he moaned behind me. "You're glistening and swelling. Are you close, baby?"

"Yes," I managed on a whisper.