The Prize (3 page)

And then he flattened his face over me and sucked hard.

I screamed. The sensation was amazing. So much pressure. Building. Climbing. Threatening
to explode in a way I had never experienced.

I was so close.

And then he stopped.

I gasped, a whimper escaped unbidden. “No…”

“D/s, hon.” He spoke against my pussy, his breath hitting my wetness and making me
writhe.

D/s? What did he mean by that? I was submitting, wasn’t I? I was also clear he was
exerting his dominance.

He set one finger on my heated skin beside my clit and drew circles around the swollen
nub.

I breathed heavily, digging my heels in deeper. A cramp would form in my calves if
he didn’t let me come soon.

“Just feel. Let it build…”

Build? He was certifiable. It couldn’t possibly build any further.

“Don’t come until I give you permission.”

Again, he’d lost his mind. My orgasms weren’t something I so precisely controlled.
When I reached the edge, I tipped over. There was no stopping.

“You can do it. Concentrate on my words.” One finger thrust into my channel as he
spoke.

I moaned, tipping my head back. “Please…”

“Please, what?”

“Sir.” I tried to think. “Please, Sir. Please let me come.” I was so close, it hurt.

“Good girl.” That finger slowly eased back into me, and he drew it out crooked toward
my G-spot. “Oh yeah. You like that, don’t you?”

I didn’t answer. Who didn’t like to be stroked there?

He removed his finger and trailed lower.

I sucked in a breath and held it when he tapped the entrance to my tighter hole.

“How many men have taken your ass, hon?”

I gritted my teeth and sucked in a breath. “None.”

“Mmm. I like that.” He circled the entrance, teasing me into wishing he would penetrate
me there.

I couldn’t believe how good it felt. I was in some sort of trance. Not myself. Or
maybe this was myself… I shook that thought away.

He trailed his finger back up to my pussy and circled my clit again. “So swollen.
Does your clit always get this engorged when you’re aroused?”

I turned my head to one side, as if I could hide my expression from him. I had no
idea what my clit did when I had sex. I knew how it
felt
. But I didn’t know what it looked like. Geez…

Suddenly, he sat up and leaned back again. When the rip of a condom wrapper filled
the room, I almost sighed. Thank God.

But then he was back, his mouth on my pussy again, his fingers inside me, his tongue
flicking over my clit. I bucked my hips off the bed. I’d never been so aroused in
my life.

When he lifted his face again, his fingers eased out of my sheath and pressed against
my clit. Hard. “Come for me, Meagan.”

There was no way to disobey that command. He had me wrapped around his finger. Literally.

I came hard, my orgasm pulsing around my clit with so much force he had to have felt
the vibrations. Before I stopped throbbing against him, he leaned forward, removed
his hand, and thrust into me to the hilt.

He moaned.

It was amazing I heard that since I screamed over his intrusion. For the first time
in my life, one orgasm immediately became two, grabbing at his cock and milking it.
If he never pulled out, I would be happy for the rest of my life.

He lowered himself over my frame, cupped my face, and took my mouth with his. His
cock remained lodged inside me, not moving.

He tasted of me, a salty flavor that didn’t detract from the moment at all. It was
heady and arousing to have his mouth over mine, the same mouth that had also covered
my lower lips moments ago.

As his head angled to one side to deepen the kiss, he eased out until just the tip
of his cock was lodged inside me. And then he thrust forward with the same intensity
as before.

Again.

Maddening slow withdrawals followed by rapid plunges forward. Two entirely different
sensations. Two entirely different emotional responses.

Why didn’t he speed up?

Shocking me, he pulled out instead. He released my lips and climbed off my body.

I opened my mouth to speak, but he beat me to it. “Flip over, hon.” He grabbed my
waist and lifted. My feet were still planted firmly on the mattress, making it easier
to help him guide me. My wrists, connected to each other, easily flipped with me.

Before I could wrap my head around his intension, he grabbed my hips and lifted. “On
your knees. Ass in the air.”

I tried to pull forward to lift my entire torso, but he set a hand between my shoulder
blades. “Just your ass. Leave your head on the pillow.”

As I tucked my knees up, I held my breath. The exposure was astounding.

He nudged my knees wider, making it that much worse. “Parker…”

“Trust me, hon.” His fingers gripped my lips and he climbed between my legs, pushing
them wider.

My ass was exposed. My pussy dripped. Somehow I was as aroused as I had been before
the two amazing orgasms.

He reached between my legs and drew his fingers through my folds again. “Amazing how
a simple change of position can bring you to your knees, huh?”

Did he intend the pun?

He didn’t laugh.

Instead he gripped my hips again and thrust into me from behind.

I had to brace myself with my wrists to avoid launching forward.

The position left me more exposed somehow, perhaps because he could easily see and
touch my tight rear hole. Or perhaps because my clit was open to the air, wet, needy,
pulsing. Begging.

I set my forehead on the pillow and tucked my head down farther, enough to lift my
face up and give me a few inches to breathe.

He let go of my hip with one hand and reached under my body to cup my swaying breast.

It jumped to attention, the nipple hard from skimming over the sheets.

Moments later, he lowered his hand down my belly and reached for my clit. “Come again,
hon.”

No way. It had only been a few minutes since I came twice.

“Submit to me, Meagan. Come on my hand. Do it.”

I squeezed my eyes shut, amazed by the power of his words. Sure enough, my body reacted
to his words, shooting to fully aroused again.

And I came against his fingers and around his cock.

He released my clit after a few seconds, grabbed my hips once more, and finally gave
it to me like I wanted—fucking me hard enough to rock the bed.

Still under the influence of the orgasm, my body trembled as he let himself go and
took what he needed. It didn’t take long before he held himself deep and groaned low
and steady.

When he was spent, he slid out of me, collapsed to one side, and drew me down onto
my side also to spoon me. Breathing heavily, he pulled the blindfold from my eyes
and met my gaze.

I expected serious. Reverent. What I got instead was a slow smile and a kiss on the
temple. “You’ve ruined me for all other women, you know.”

Shit.

I swallowed, blinking up at him.

He chuckled. “Don’t look so serious.”

How was I supposed to look? This was not a game to me. We couldn’t continue to see
each other. I didn’t care how good the sex was—and it was fucking amazing—we couldn’t
let this go any further. I wasn’t emotionally available for more.

Chapter Five

“I’ll get you for this… I will find you, you bitch, and you’ll be sorry.”

I bolted upright, sweat pouring off my body. I screamed.

“Meagan?”

My gaze darted to the side where the voice reached out to me.

Parker
.

Dammit.

This was exactly what I had wanted to avoid.

His hand trailed up my naked back and burrowed into my hair as he sat up next to me.
“You okay?”

“Yeah. I guess I got disoriented. I’m not used to sleeping in strange places.”

He pulled me down next to him until I lay on my side half draped over his chest. “You
sure? That seemed like a hell of a lot more than confusion.”

I shook my head. “I’m fine.” It was tough to control my heart rate and my breathing.

I glanced around. I’d been so sated from being well-fucked earlier that I hadn’t had
the energy to move when Parker got up, disposed of his condom, cleaned me up with
a warm cloth, and flipped off the lights. In seconds, I’d fallen asleep.

His fingers trailed up and down my arm, and he hugged me closer, kissing the top of
my head. “Relax. Whatever it was, it’s gone now.”

He was far too perceptive for me. I shuddered against him, unable to control my body’s
reaction to the nightmare.

I needed to get out of that suite, away from the man who made my heart stop. If I
could just guard my heart…

The next time I opened my eyes, I was alone. The room was streaked with thin beams
of light coming in from between the split in the curtains.

I jerked my attention to the adjoining room where I could hear the shower.

I scurried from the bed. How long had he been in there? Could I escape before he finished?

The last thing I wanted was a confrontation and lengthy discussion about where he
thought we stood now. He was right. I did enjoy submitting to him, but it didn’t mean
I wanted to do it full time. And that was his style. Both Amy and Cheyenne had confirmed
as much.

Riley, Cade, and Parker had been friends since college. They’d graduated together
and worked their way to the top in record speed, opening first one and then eventually
three multi-million-dollar technology firms. That had been several years ago.

When Amy first told me she was seeing a man ten years older than her, I’d questioned
her sanity. Now? I could see the allure. But money meant nothing to me. In fact, charm
and wit and looks weren’t allowed to factor in either. I wasn’t wired for permanence.

I need to get out of here
.

I nearly jumped from the bed, dashed from the room, and scanned the living area of
the suite for my clothes. They were strewn all over the floor. I found my bra and
blouse near the entrance to the bedroom, my skirt draped across the arm of the couch,
and my heels? One lay where I’d kicked it off by the door and the other halfway across
the room. I tugged each piece of clothing on as I located it.

But where were my panties? I glanced at the bedroom, trying to remember. It didn’t
matter. This was enough. I found my purse where it had slid off my shoulder when we
first entered the room, plucked it from the floor, and yanked the door open before
the shower stopped running.

I heaved for oxygen when I entered the hall. Luckily, no one was out there. Hell,
there was only one other door. I made quick strides toward the elevator, pushed the
down arrow, and yanked open my purse to search for a brush.

By the time I stepped into the elevator, I was already fighting my tangled hair. The
elevator walls were mirrored, and I gasped at my state of disarray, feeling distinctly
like Julia Roberts. I pulled out a tissue and wiped away the makeup smeared under
my eyes.

All I could do was hope to get out of the lobby fast enough not to be noticed. There
would be plenty of cabs out front. It was a five-star hotel, after all.

And thank God, within minutes, I was inside the back of a taxi, sighing in relief
and giving the driver my address.

I needed to shake Parker Darwin from my head and concentrate on what was real in my
life. He was rich, sexy, funny, domineering, and brilliant. But I didn’t have the
time or inclination to indulge in any of those aspects.

Especially not after the phone call I’d received yesterday afternoon.

Nope. Not now. Not ever.

****

As I stepped out of my own shower an hour later, my phone beeped from the vanity.
I took a deep breath, knowing it would be one of my parents. Again.

I hadn’t taken their calls last night nor returned either of them yet this morning.

I needed to wash Parker out of my hair first. Literally.

And then I needed coffee. Lots of it.

I patted my long hair all the way to the ends and then hung the towel on a hook behind
the bathroom door. When I turned toward the sink and reached for my toothbrush, I
did a double take. My brown hair was almost black, hanging in wet ringlets. My skin
was flushed. Red splotches remained from Parker gripping my breasts. Or were they
from arousal?

Closing my eyes for a few seconds didn’t change anything.

He’d left his mark on me, and I couldn’t shake free of images of him staring at my
exposed body before he covered my eyes. Lord, even the way he met my gaze after I
bolted awake made me wince. Concern. Caring. The dominance wasn’t there in those moments.
Just a man who was worried about the woman in his bed.

Shit.

My phone buzzed again as I rinsed my mouth and reached for the hand towel.

“Just a second. Geez,” I muttered into the empty apartment, heading for my bedroom
and across to my closet. I pulled out my favorite comfy yoga pants and a T-shirt.
Not bothering with a bra, I shrugged into the soft cotton and made my way toward the
kitchen next.

Coffee
.

My damn phone buzzed again.

Persistence. Maybe it wasn’t my parents…

As the coffee pot filled, I stepped back into my bathroom and retrieved my phone.

Yep. My mom.

With the phone to my ear, I called her back.

“Meagan. You had me worried. Where have you been? I’ve been calling since Thursday
afternoon.”

“I was busy, Mom.” The coffee wouldn’t fill the pot quick enough.

“Are you okay? I spoke with Detective Branch. He said he called you too.”

“He did.”

“Why don’t you come here for the weekend? We haven’t seen you in a few weeks.”

“I’m okay, Mom. I have a lot a work to do.” I had nothing, but I didn’t feel like
biting my nails at my parents’ house. It would be easier to rent a few movies and
drink a bottle of wine in my apartment alone.

“You sure? We could make pasta. Keep your mind occupied.”

I didn’t want to do that either. My mother’s pasta was the best, but I wouldn’t be
able to swallow or concentrate on anything until the parole board made their decision.
“I’m fine, Mom. I’ll call you next week and we’ll make plans. I have to get going.”

“Okay. But call if you need to talk.”

As I ended the call, the phone buzzed in my hand.

A text from Parker.

Sneaky…

I smiled and tossed the phone on the couch. Yeah, I was sneaky all right. At least
he didn’t say anything else or try to call. That connection had to be broken. I would
be a blubbering idiot for the next several days. And I had no intention of sharing
it with Parker.

****

When my phone rang Tuesday afternoon, I nearly jumped out of my chair. My hand shook
as I closed my eyes after seeing the caller ID. With a deep breath, I took the call.

“Hello.”

“Meagan?”

“Yes.”

“Arnold Branch,” he stated as if I didn’t have his number programmed into my phone
and couldn’t clearly have seen his name scrolling across the screen before connecting.
“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but…” The rest of his speech was cut off. I heard
nothing but rambling words that had no meaning, as if I had no knowledge of the English
language.

I ended the call while he was still speaking.

It was four thirty. No one would be upset if I left a little early.

My hands shook as I shut down my computer and grabbed my purse.

As I passed Edna at the front desk, she winced. “Meagan? Are you okay? You’re white
as a sheet.”

I mumbled something about leaving early and walked out.

I remembered nothing about the walk home and secured myself in my apartment before
realizing I was about to hyperventilate. Dropping my purse on the floor and kicking
off my shoes, I glanced around my surroundings. Sparse. Boring. Intentional.

I rarely had friends over, and I’d never had a man in my apartment. My rule was to
always meet guys someplace else, and it wasn’t so unusual that anyone questioned my
actions. Lots of women were cautious with men. It was better to have my own transportation
and keep my address a secret on first or seconds dates. The number of third dates
I’d had in the last few years could be counted on one hand. Well, one finger.

And only if fucking Parker on four occasions in the last month counted as “dates.”

Fifteen years…

At least ten of those, I’d managed to stuff my problems in the back of my mind and
ignore the future.

When my family moved to Atlanta, I met Amy, and we became best friends. She had no
idea she had saved my life and my sanity at the time. With the help of my therapist
and countless doctors along the way.

Is this what an alcoholic felt like when they fell off the wagon?

With a deep breath, I scrolled through my contacts and dialed Helen Frost, my therapist.

She answered on the first ring. “Meagan.”

“Oh… Hi,” I stammered, having expected to speak to her machine.

“How are you?” she asked.

“Michael Swarth was released on parole.” I plopped on my second-hand couch and scooted
to one side to avoid the spring that always managed to stab me in the ass.

“Oh God. I’m so sorry. You want to come in? I have an opening this evening.”

“Sure.” What I really wanted to do was crawl into bed and sleep for a week, but I
would have to work, and keeping my regular schedule was going to be the first hurdle.

“Seven?”

“I’ll be there.” Now all I had to do was open the front door again and step into the
world. No biggie. Easy.

After changing into jeans and my worn high-school track shirt, I curled up on the
couch and waited, not bothering to turn on the television or open any form of social
media. I didn’t feel like connecting with the world. I didn’t eat. My stomach was
in knots.

The sun fell, leaving me in darkness, and still I sat there, waiting, my heart racing
as though I were running instead of sitting like a statue.

When my phone rang, I ignored it, watching a call from Amy go by and then my dad.

At six thirty, I pulled on my most comfortable boots and grabbed my purse.

I held my breath all the way down the elevator, suddenly hating the confined space.
I’d ridden that elevator hundreds of times without thinking one thing about it. But
today…

My counselor was three blocks away. I would walk there. It wasn’t a coincidence. She
also had an office in the suburbs north of Atlanta in Gwinett county where I’d first
met her years ago. When I moved to the city, I rented an apartment close to her city
location.

Perhaps no one alive ever did such a thing, but I wasn’t like most people. I knew
this day would come. And I was prepared. I glanced back and forth as I speed walked
to her building. Paranoia had a hold of me. Paranoia always got its hands on me when
I thought about Michael Swarth.

As fortune would have it, I also worked not far away, so my commute was easy, and
I had everything I needed at my fingertips.

Dr. Frost was at the door to her office as I stepped into her waiting room. “Come
on in.”

I rolled my neck as I tried to relax into my usual spot, a huge stuffed navy armchair
that was made of denim. It was inviting. I’d gravitated toward it the first time I
came to this office and every time since. My hands gripped the arms so hard, my knuckles
were white.

“How are you handling things?”

I blew out a breath. “I’m not.” I’d been ignoring everything. I glanced around the
small office. Everything always looked the same, a certain level of disarray that
never seemed to alter between visits. Papers were spread on her desk, and books were
stacked on every surface as if she were in the middle of writing a research paper
and needed every available resource at her fingertips. The one window had the blinds
open, but at this hour only the twinkling city lights filtered into the well-lit room.

“Nightmares?”

I rolled my neck back on the chair. “Just one. Friday night.”