Her Secret Betrayal (4 page)

I took one step into the open space when he
grabbed my elbows from behind and snapped me back into his body.
“Tease,” he whispered against the back of my ear. “Don’t tempt me,
kitten.”

I tilted my head back against his shoulder
and he lowered his mouth to my throat. His body felt warm and big
against my back. Sean’s hands dipped lower to my thighs where he
pulled a handful of my skirt into his fist and slowly dragged it up
to my hips so that the hem of my skirt barely covered my
panties.

“Or maybe,” he murmured, “that’s exactly
what you are trying to do.”

Sean let go abruptly and stepped past where
I stood wobbly and gasping for breath. His walk was casual but his
shoulders rigid. He unhooked his bag and dropped it on the floor
beside a large, worn, overstuffed chair and settled into its
center. He laid his arms along the chair arms like an emperor and
leveled me with his very sudden, serious gaze. My body reacted just
as he knew it would, by going weak and wet, my sex throbbing with
my heartbeat.

He pointed to the floor in front of him.
“Here. Now.”

Did he know how much I craved his
instruction? For some ridiculous reason I smoothed my skirt with
the palm of my hands and walked to him. There was nothing graceful
and seductive about me, never had been, but his lips parted
hungrily as he watched me move, as his eyes roved down the shape of
my body.

“Give me your panties, Kara.” Sean turned
his palm up and a shudder of anxiety and anticipation passed
through me. We could be caught by anyone in the library or any of
my gossipy coworkers, but that was unlikely. The elevator was the
only public way upstairs and we’d hear it coming. I doubted the
girls wouldn’t bother to take the old stairs up through the back
just to spy.

Still. This would be a first for me. A
dangerous first.

I reached under my skirt, hooked the edge of
my panties, and shimmied them down my plump thighs. I nudged out of
my flats and stepped my bare feet, one after the other, from the
flimsy material. Embarrassment colored my cheeks as I realized they
were a little damp. The embarrassment deepened when I pillowed the
material into his palm and he realized it, too.

“Mmm. Good girl.”

He pocketed the panties and returned his
hand to clutch the end of the arm of the chair. When I stepped
between his open knees traced his fingers up my inner thigh to the
heat pulsing between my legs. His eyes raised, caught mine and held
me in thrall. His eyes screamed
give
and my heart stuttered
its acquiescence.
Give him anything
, it begged.
Don’t let
him stop looking at you this way.

Sean’s fingers sank to the knuckle into the
wet, swollen center and I moaned involuntarily. Briefly I closed my
eyes, felt the flutter of a thousand wings rise up from my sex to
my heart before exploding in my throat as a gasp that was almost
his name. I licked my lips and swayed into his grip which tightened
over my smooth mons.

“Tell me what you want, Kara,” he insisted
with both his voice and hand. I grabbed his shoulders suddenly,
found my fingers in the hair at the base of his neck and held on.
My knees threatened, warned that they wouldn’t last long if he kept
fingering me like that
.

“I want…” My mind swam. I closed my eyes
again and gripped him for all I was worth. His thumb slid down the
smooth curve of my mons to touch across the small, tender bud.
Electricity brightened light behind my closed eyes and I moaned,
words dissolving.

“Say it,” he said into the tight space
between us. Then his voice lightened with a mischievous grin I
didn’t need to open my eyes to know was there. “Or show me. Show me
what you want, Kara.”

Words I didn’t have, but that I could do. I
pushed him back into the chair. He rounded himself back and hunched
down as I climbed onto the chair with him, one knee on either side
of his hips. He unbuttoned his slacks, the bottom few buttons of
his dress shirt, and reached his fist into his boxers. He raised
his eyes to me, the blue darkening with intent. His hands came up
around the back of my thighs and as I centered myself over the
sharp tip of his cock, he wound the hem of my skirt up to bunch
around my wide hips.

He growled pleasantly, a quiet noise as he
got comfortable. He lowered his eyes to the intersection between
his engorged member and my soft, wet lips, anticipation and guarded
need in every panting breath.

“Show me what you want,” he murmured. “Show
me what you need. I’ve got you, Kara. Be quick,” he warned
mischievously. “You wouldn’t want to get caught being a naughty
little girl, would you?”

I groaned. No, I didn’t want to get caught,
but when he said it
like that
, in
that
voice,
moisture flooded the space between my legs and slicked my inner
thighs. He held onto my thighs as I closed my eyes and lowered my
hips down onto him. The fat head spread my lips apart and sunk an
inch or two inside of me and I lost all sense of self. My spine
arched, curved away from his chest. I dropped my head back and if
it wasn’t for his sudden tight hold on my waist I might have
collapsed completely. He bucked his hips up once, spearing me, and
I yelped in surprise at the sudden, deep invasion, reminding me I
wasn’t done yet.

I sat to the root of his shaft, no longer
preferring the slow torturous route to satisfaction. He sucked in a
noisy breath and tightened his fingers into my waist. With him
filling me so completely, I rocked forward, curved into his chest
and buried my face into the crook of his neck.

“Kara,” he inhaled and slid his hands from
gripping my waist to holding my back. I felt my skirt slide along
my backside and the tops of my thighs to hide our transgression. I
didn’t think I had enough strength in me to pull myself from him if
I wanted to.

We stayed like that for a lifetime,
connected and content. I inhaled his cologne and sank deeper into
his embrace.

And without agreeing, we began to move in
unison. I didn’t pull out exactly, maybe an inch or two before
grinding back into him and him up into me. We rocked, a slow grind,
the quiet punctuated by gasps and sighs, sometimes words that
sounded like our names but lost coherency in the intense build-up
between our legs.

I rolled my hips, rocked up and back and
felt the ridge of his penis flex against the spot inside my body
that melted all rational thought. He recognized my mewling and
repeated motion, knew I was getting close. He tightened his hold on
my body, sank his fingers into my hair and clutched me as we both
came, not quite at the same time but near enough to feel right. I
didn’t come screaming or thrashing, but it was no less fulfilling.
Instead of an explosion I felt a slow burn that left me shaking
against him, my fists alternately open and closed as the burn
overtook my thoughts. He pumped his seed into me, made our bodies
impossibly slick.

“Kara?” he murmured against my cheek. He
released my hair and lowered his palm to cup my jaw and cradle me.
I could feel him softening inside of me and fluid leaked against my
thigh, evidence I was both embarrassed and excited to hide from the
world.

“Sir?” I sighed.

He stilled. I felt his muscles harden
beneath my palms and his jaw, pressed against mine, clenched. The
shift was so alarming I didn’t realize what I’d done until it was
too late to stuff the word back into my mouth.
Sir.
A term
evidencing my submission. We didn’t start using it until late in
our relationship and then I was never quite comfortable with it. It
was Marcus who insisted on that word. He loved being called Sir.
Y
es Sir, fuck me, Sir. Who’s your master? You are, Sir.

I flushed, had no idea how to apologize or
explain. The word came so easily now, but even though Marcus had
taught me to use it with regularity, I’d meant it completely for
Sean. Of that I had no doubt.

Sean took my chin in his hand and pulled my
face away from its hiding spot against his neck. He straightened me
enough that he could look into my face and I wondered what he saw
there. Despite the tightness in his body, his eyes stayed soft,
curious.

“Is that what you want, Kara? Do you want to
call me ‘Sir’?”

I didn’t mean to, but I looked down because
instead of wrapping my arms around him and kissing him
yes yes,
a thousand times yes
, my thoughts strayed to the anger still
boiling in my guts.
He’ll leave
, it warned.
He’ll leave
again and you’ll only have yourself to blame.

And there was Taylor Roth, the beautiful
woman Sean went home to.

“More than anything in the world.” I
swallowed, fought tears that threatened suddenly. To compensate, I
snapped at him more roughly than I should have. “I know that you
shouldn’t even be here, let alone asking me that.” It was a bratty
thing to say and I knew it. Childish. Petty. Wholly born out of
jealousy. I didn’t want to share him on the side, no matter how
good it felt to have him inside me again.

He tilted his head back to gaze at me, but
he didn’t release his hold on my chin. Instead he softened his grip
and caressed the line of my jaw.

“She and I are no longer together.” My heart
broke itself against my rib cage and I tried to pull away but he
wouldn’t let me. He smiled briefly at my reaction. “You have
nothing to be jealous of, and no one to feel guilty for. Even if
you and I hadn’t done what we did, I would have put an end to it.
She and I…it’s a long story. Suffice it to say we were together for
the wrong reasons to begin with and we stayed together mostly from
inertia. We parted amicably. I wanted to tell you earlier, but
admittedly I got a little carried away.”

He lowered his free hand to my bare thigh
and rubbed up to my hip and back down.

I didn’t answer him right away. I climbed
off his lap and he let me. I needed to clean myself up before we
had any sort of serious conversation. The reminder of what we’d
just done a little too distracting. I left the area for the storage
closet where there was a small washroom.

When I returned he’d fixed himself up,
re-tucked his shirt, zipped his pants. He had his hands deep in his
pockets and was perusing the shelves when I stopped near him, but
not within arm’s length. I was well aware that he still had my
panties in his pocket.

“You broke my heart, Sean. You broke it and
stomped it to pieces and then walked away without even saying you
were sorry and I really hate you for it.”

There. Saying it made breathing easier. I
crossed my arms protectively over my stomach.

He closed his eyes briefly, the skin at the
corners tightening, his mouth pulling into a frown. When he turned
to meet my anger, in his eyes I recognized regret, red and raw.

“I was a coward, Kara. It wasn’t my
intention to hurt you. A part of me even convinced itself that
you’d be relieved. What we had at the time wasn’t healthy for
either of us. I haven’t changed my mind about that.”

I nodded because he was right. It wasn’t
healthy to keep things a secret for so long, born out of shame and
embarrassment and fear, mostly on my part but he owned some of it
too. I could see now that he’d embraced his cravings, but that
wasn’t always the case back then. Good Catholic guilt often sunk
his moods after a particularly intense punishment scene. He
relished taking a riding crop to me, but afterwards his distress
over having marked me so violently would blot out the pleasure he
had making them. No amount of reassurance on my part helped ease
that guilt.

He was completely right. Our relationship
had been foolish and unhealthy and we needed time to grow up and
embrace who we really were at our core. A girl with curvy hips and
plump arms and a boy who liked to kiss the hell out of his
girlfriend for letting him tie her up and spank her until she
couldn’t walk.

“I’m so sorry. For not saying goodbye or
explaining. For being a coward. For loving you but being so afraid
of you. Mostly,” he shook his head and I suffered a strange desire
to reach up and push his hair from his eyes so that I could see
them, even though his regret made it hard for him to look me in the
eye. Before I could indulge and go to him, he straightened and met
my gaze head on. “Mostly I am sorry for ever leaving you.”

Reluctantly I dropped my arms and relaxed a
fraction of my defenses. There was no denying the comfort his words
brought me, how they soothed a very old bruise.

I shrugged helplessly. “What are we going to
do?”

“Well.” He quirked an eyebrow and let out a
breathy chuckle. He was nervous, but damn that never happened. He
ran a hand back through his messy hair, hair badly in need of a cut
that he wouldn’t get until the last moment between
disheveled
but sexy
and
a box for a home under the West Nolan
Bridge
.

“An arrangement,” he finished. He
straightened, hands pushed back in his pockets, blue eyes searching
mine for an early answer. “Your obedience. Your body. Your
pleasure. We’re good at the physical intimacy and I’m not sure I
can keep my hands off you anyway. And I know you can’t say no when
I touch you. So let’s not pretend otherwise.”

“An arrangement.” A shiver of pleasure
passed down my spine, made my toes curl. We were
very
good
at the physical intimacy. “If you get my body and my obedience,
what do I get?”

His grin widened and he stepped closer. “My
very thorough attention.” He brought his hand to my waist and
traced the ample curve of my body. “And dinner. And breakfast. And
tonight. And tomorrow. And the day after that.”

A spark of delight radiated from his touch.
“That sounds an awful lot like a relationship.”

“Does it? Are you sure?” He lowered his chin
as if to kiss me, but he kept his distance, though his intent was
obvious. My heart quickened as I gazed up into his blue eyes. “And
I’d want you to myself. I won’t share your submission with anyone
else. We need to get to know each other again.”