Undone, Volume 1 (10 page)

“Or do you like it
rough?” As he asked, he used his teeth to scrape and then lightly
bite, pressing into the sensitive skin of my neck. Taking my nipple
between his thumb and forefinger, he pinched, not too hard,
suggesting what it could feel like if he did get rough.

“Ah!” I cried out,
arching my back and pressing my breast into his hand, tilting my head
back even more. He felt so sure, so dominant, so good.

“Mmm.” He drew his
hands back into my hair, playing with it, his mouth light again at my
ear. “You like it rough, don’t you, Ana?” I couldn’t answer.
I trembled under his touch, my breathing starting to come in short
pants. “Have you ever had it really rough?” As he spoke, he
played with me, nibbling my earlobe, licking it, massaging my hair.

“Um, no.” My voice
came out in a whisper. I felt half mesmerized, half shocked by the
intensity of my reaction. Part of me wanted to get swept away by the
fantasy. The other part of me asked what the hell was going on? Ash
reached down and found my wrist, easily circling his fingers around
it.

“I think you might
like it, Ana.” He took my wrist and brought it up by my shoulder,
pressing it back into the plush couch cushion. “You might like it,
tied up. Your wrists bound.” He put pressure on my wrist as he
spoke and I could imagine it, my wrists tied up, fastened over my
head. Stripped naked, bared to him.

His lips down at a
pressure point on my neck, he licked, then sucked. “What do you
think, Ana? Would you like to be tied down and spanked? I’d love to
spank you, hard, right before I fuck you.”

Um. “Where’s the
bathroom?” I stood up.

He looked up at me, his
eyes dark and smoldering. He pointed around the corner.

“Be right back.”

I ducked into the dark
room and sat down, hands over my face. I needed to get a grip. I had
to figure out what I wanted out of this night and I had to figure it
out fast. Did I want to have wanton sex all over his hotel room, tied
up and who knew what else, a reckless crazy night of abandon and
passion? I’d probably have more orgasms with this man in one night
than I’d given myself my whole life. OK, that was probably an
exaggeration, but I’d never responded to anyone the way I had with
him. We’d been sitting on his couch for all of ten minutes and he
nearly had me agreeing to let him tie me up then spank and fuck me.

It might be too much.
I’d told myself I’d hop on the motorcycle the next time it drove
past me in life. But really, who was this guy? What did I know about
him? He was sexy as sin and obviously knew exactly how to touch a
woman to make her insane with lust, but that was because he’d done
it over and over, every day of his life for the last decade, to
hundreds maybe thousands of women.

What did I want? Did I
really want to join the chorus line of girls who’d been fucked by
Ash Black? Was that my life’s ambition?

Damn it. Apparently,
you could take the good-girl librarian out of the library, but you
couldn’t take the library…no, wait, that wasn’t it. You could
take the…Anyway, I didn’t think I could do it. It was exactly the
kind of thing that filled my late night fantasies, but this wasn’t
that. This was reality. I’d have to rain on this parade, tell him
it had been fun meeting him, but I wasn’t that kind of girl.

Shaking, I walked back
out into the main room. He was standing next to the window, a tall,
dark silhouette looking out at the view. He brought his hand up to
his brow and rubbed, shaking his head. I stepped forward.

“Hey, there you are.”
He walked toward me. “Listen, I’m sorry. I was, you know, coming
on sort of strong there.”

“Oh, it’s OK.” I
shrugged it off though, yes, he’d had me in his hotel room all of
ten minutes before he’d started in with the bondage talk. That was
sort of strong.

“I’m not used to
being with girls like you.”

“I should probably
go,” I said reluctantly, looking for my coat.

“No!” He sprang
over to my side and took my hand in his. “No, don’t go. It’s
just that I’m used to being with models and strippers, you know, or
celebrities as famous as me.”

“Not helping, Ash.”

“Sorry, I suck at
this.”

“You’re not great.”

“I’m sorry.” He
really looked it, too.

“No, I’m sorry.”
I shook my head. “I should be cooler. I’m pretty nerdy. I’m a
librarian and a piano teacher. I knit.”

“Knitting is cool!”
he protested.

“No, knitting is not
cool. And I’m sure you expected…I mean, you’re a rock star and
I came up to your hotel room, so—”

“No, it’s not like
that.”

I looked up at him,
arching an eyebrow. He broke into a smile. “OK, so it’s almost
always like that. But that’s why I like you! You’re different!
You’re real. You’re not like the kind of girls I usually spend
time with.”

Why did it feel like he
was trying hard to convince me to stay? This whole night was surreal.
I figured the second I hesitated, he’d have me out the door so fast
my head would spin.

“Give me another
chance?” He smiled down at me, all charm.

“I’m not trying to
tease you,” I clarified, just to make sure he knew I wasn’t
playing games. I really wasn’t.

“No, I get it.” He
put his hands up in mock police arrest. “I’ll be a perfect
gentleman. I just want to get to know you better.”

He went over to the
couch again, sitting down and patting the cushion next to him. “We’ll
talk. I promise this time I won’t start threatening to tie you up
and spank you.”

Blushing, I had to
laugh a little. What he didn’t know was how much that had turned me
on. The heat still coiled within me, remembering his touch, wanting
more of it.

“Come and talk to me.
Tell me, what matters to you?”

I shrugged. “My
family.”

“Tell me about them,”
he asked. That had to be a safe topic.

“My parents.” I sat
next to him, my legs crossed, our bodies not touching. “They had me
when they were older. My mother was 40, my father 45. They’d
thought that they couldn’t get pregnant. Mom calls me the miracle
baby.”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah.” I tucked a
strand of hair behind my ear, feeling self-conscious. This had to
sound really boring to him. “Are you sure you want to hear about my
parents?”

“Yes, absolutely.”
He fixed all his attention on me, rapt.

“OK,” I agreed.
“Well, my father’s an engineer. They moved here about 30 years
ago from Russia, hoping for a better life. He was able to find work
at a company upstate and they’ve lived in the same small town ever
since.”

“Do you see them
often?”

“I try to make it up
every weekend. My mother’s a great cook and we have dinner
together.”

“Do you like spending
time with them?”

“Yes.” I answered,
honestly. “I mean, they can drive me a little crazy with all their
worrying. They’d be much happier if I were already married and
pregnant. Or if I’d become a concert pianist. Or both. But, yeah, I
like seeing them. I love them.”

“So…” he paused,
seeming to find my statement hard to comprehend. “You don’t just
love them. You like them, too?”

“Yes,” I laughed, a
bit confused at the trouble he was having understanding this.
“They’re good people. They’re hard-working and they care about
me. Why, don’t you like your parents?”

“My father passed
away this summer.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry.”
How painful that must be for him! I knew it was an inevitable event,
the natural cycle of life and death, but I hated to think about it.

“We weren’t close.
But it’s strange with him gone.” He drew tight and tense for a
moment. “But I’d rather hear more about you.” He drew his arm
along the back of the couch again. “You’re amazing.” His
attention back on me, he looked down as if marveling over a strange,
mythical creature.

“The way you’re
looking at me.” I shook my head, flushed under his admiration. “I
should be looking at you that way. You’re the rock star. I’m just
average.”

“I’ve never met
anyone like you before.”

I laughed. “You’ve
got this all wrong. I’m supposed to be saying that to you.” He
brought his hand back to my hair, starting to caress it again as if
he couldn’t stop himself. I didn’t want him to. He made me feel
so cherished, the way he stroked me and played with the strands of my
hair. The quiet jazz, the soft lighting, the musky, masculine scent
of him, drawing me near. I think I was the one to kiss him first,
leaning in and finding his lips with my own.

With strong, sure arms
he eased me onto his lap, holding me there as we kissed. And kissed.
No more bondage talk, no more pinching my nipples, just his warm,
full lips on my own, drinking me in as if he loved my taste.

“Anika,” he
breathed, as if he were enchanted by everything about me. “You’re
so gorgeous.”

This time it was me
kissing along his jaw, down at his throat. So masculine, so powerful,
his shoulders so broad and I could feel his thickly roped muscles in
his arms though he still held me loosely, gently.

“Ana,” he groaned
deep in his throat as I kissed him, licking the hollow of his neck.
He started moving his hands, and I realized how much he’d been
holding back, forcing himself to stay still while I kissed. Now his
hands encircled my waist, up my back, down at my legs, caressing my
bare thighs. Breathing harder, I kissed his mouth again as he worked
his way along my inner thigh, stroking, massaging, intimate.

I knew a short while
ago I’d told him no, but now all I wanted was him to make his way
up, reach my sex, touch me there where I was throbbing and starting
to get wet for him. My skirt had already bunched up high. I parted my
thighs in invitation.

Slowly, gently, he
worked his wicked, magical fingers up the soft skin of my inner
thighs. With a soft brush, he grazed me with his knuckle, a light
touch to my lacy panties.

I moaned in response,
my hands twining into his silky black hair, my lips along his neck. I
needed this. I know I’d had my doubts, and I still wasn’t going
as far as he’d suggested earlier. But this, I wanted. I wanted him
to touch me, stroke me, show me how good he could make me feel.

A finger up now, he
drew it along my panties. He hissed appreciatively. “Wet for me,
Ana.” He pressed his thick finger into me, running it along my
seam. “So wet.” I whimpered it felt so good, and I started to
pant as he drew my panties to the side and touched me directly on my
wet, throbbing sex.

“So pretty.” He
started stroking my pussy, finding my clit and circling it, brushing
against it, then bringing his finger up inside my wet heat. “You
feel so good.”

“Oh!” I tilted my
head back, unable to keep focused enough to continue kissing him,
wanting nothing more than this building heat. The way he touched me,
coaxing, stroking me so masterfully, up at my clit. Unable to stop
myself, I started pressing against him, pushing into his hand,
needing more.

“Does that feel good,
Ana?” His voice, like dark silk, flowed over my body. His fingers,
up inside me, plunged in, fucking me in a steady rhythm. His thumb
stroked my clit, strumming me, circling.

“Ash!” I cried out,
my hand to his broad shoulder, clutching him, fisting his shirt. I
pushed my mound onto his hand, legs spread, lost in sensation. Waves
of pleasure rose within me, building up, growing stronger with each
stroke.

“Ana,” he murmured,
two fingers deep inside me now, sliding in and out as he thrust in a
faster rhythm. “Do you like how I fuck you with my fingers?”

“Yes!” I’d never
had anyone talk dirty like that to me before, never admitted I liked
anything like that.

“Tell me, Anika. Tell
me you like my fingers fucking you.”

“Oh!” His words
brought me so close. I panted and cried out and dug my nails into his
shoulder and hard-muscled chest.

“Say it,” he
commanded.

“I love it!” I
cried out, bucking into him, his thumb pressing into my aching clit.

“What do you love?”
he demanded.

“I love your fingers
fucking me, Ash.”

“Yes, that’s it.”
He coaxed me, praised me, plunging his fingers in deep. “Now,
Anika, come for me.”

Pleasure burst from
deep within me at his command, welling up and overflowing into every
inch of my body.

“Ah! Ash!” I called
out, quivering and quaking at his touch, his fingers drawing every
last ounce of pleasure from me. Warm, languid, I drifted back, slowly
regaining consciousness of sitting there on a couch with Ash Black,
his fingers now back at my knee, his mouth at my ear.

“You’re
incredible,” he murmured, just when I was about to start getting
self-conscious. “You’re so sexy, so responsive.” He nuzzled
into my hair, breathing me in. “I can’t wait to spend the month
with you.”

“Mmm,” I purred in
his arms, so warm, so adored. Wait, what had he just said? “Spend
the month?” I asked, looking up at him.

“Yes.” He stroked
my hair, looking at me hungrily. “We’re going to have a whole
month together. Lots of time to do that to you again and again.” He
looked into my eyes and I saw so much heat in them, so much passion I
nearly got swept away with it all again. Nearly.

“What’s this about
a month?” I asked.

“Right, we need to
talk about the terms.”

“The terms?” I
adjusted myself, settling down again at his side instead of his lap.

“I’ve got an NDA
you’ll have to sign. My lawyer Nelson can talk to you about all the
details. Or he can talk to your family’s attorney if you have one.”

Lawyers? NDA? What was
going on here? “I don’t understand.”

“OK, big picture, I’d
like you to pretend to be my girlfriend for the month.”

“Pretend to be your
girlfriend for the month?” Was he joking with me? I looked around.
Was someone filming us, like on a reality show?