Undone, Volume 3 (5 page)

There was that
L
word popping into my head again. Crazier still, it was starting to
frighten me less. Three weeks together and I was already thinking
like a lunatic.

The warm water pounded
down onto my shoulders and back. I was holding a lot of tension.
Coiled up, I needed Ana for release.

When she woke up, would
she remember the conversation we had last night? There in the dark,
just the two of us in the bed, it was as if we’d been transported
into another world. I’d felt as if she’d opened the door to her
fantasies and allowed me entry.

Leaving her in that
moment had taken about all of the restraint I had and then some. I
almost hadn’t been able to do it. She’d been quivering and
panting, so swept away by my words, the suggestions I made to her. So
eager to explore, to tap into all of the erotic energy pulsing
within. But it had also taken her all of three minutes to fall
completely asleep once I’d told her to get some rest. She was ready
to go, but she still needed more time to recover.

Hopefully, today would
be different. I didn’t know what the future held for us. I knew
what was planned in our contract and I didn’t like it. A break up
in one week. But that didn’t have to happen. If the world liked me
dating a sweet children’s librarian, who said I couldn’t keep on
dating her? I knew it was crazy to be thinking like this, so wrapped
up, wanting so much more. We’d only known each other for three
weeks.

But it wasn’t a
normal three weeks. We’d traveled to Paris. Met each other’s
families. Hell, I’d proposed to her and she’d accepted.
Yesterday, I’d taken that ridiculous ring off of her while she was
asleep. As much as I liked the thought of seeing her wear my ring—and
yes I did—that wasn’t my ring. That was Lola’s ring. And it
looked like a reminder of everything that was fake, everything she
wasn’t. I didn’t like the reminder. Plus it just looked almost
uncomfortable, like she’d smack her hand against something and it
would hurt.

I didn’t know what
would come next between us. But I did know we had a couple of days
together now, just us. No interruptions, no interference. No
paparazzi, no groupies or other celebrities or PR reps. My phone was
turned off. We had a playground before us, and we didn’t have to
share it with anyone else.

In the warm, steamy
shower, my cock pulsed with need. Hard as a rock. I’d been hard
since last night, pressed against her in bed. Feeling her desire,
stirring up her lust, so close to her wet center I’d almost said
fuck it and lost myself.

I’d wanted to come in
her with a fierce, primal need, like a fucking firehose. The need
hadn’t exactly abated overnight. I hadn’t had Ana in days, not
since Vegas. Technically it was only two days, but it felt like two
years. I craved her like I had never craved anyone before.

I brought my hand down
to my shaft, wrapping my fingers around it. Stroking my length, I
could feel the release so close. Veins pulsing down its length, my
balls tight with come, I pumped myself. It would feel so good to
come, to explode.

But I took my hand
away, brought it to the wall of the shower. Slowly, breathing, I took
back control. I didn’t want to come in the shower, hot and quick in
my hand. I wanted to come in Ana. Again and again.

Even if she didn’t
remember the conversation we’d had last night, her impulses would
still there, her instinct to respond. She wanted my power, my
domination. She wanted to submit, let herself go, surrender to her
dark fantasies. I’d take her there.

Around eleven o’clock,
she finally woke up, all rosy and sleepy. Her golden chestnut hair
was in a tumble, so naturally gorgeous, thick with a slight curl to
it.

“Hi,” she said as
she padded into the kitchen in a borrowed pair of socks, looking
sleepy and shy.

“Hey. How’re you
feeling?”

“Much better.” She
smiled at me and I embraced her, relieved to see her looking like
herself again. A sleepy self, but the color had fully returned to her
cheeks. With some coffee and breakfast, she’d be back to normal. “I
see you raided my clothes.” I had to tease her, but I loved it. She
looked so cute in my T-shirt and boxers, oversized and draping off
her curves. Those boxers would be so easy to slip right off.

“I hope you don’t
mind.”

“Mind? I don’t even
want to tell you that your bags are here, too.” I’d had the hotel
pack her belongings and she had everything she needed here. But if I
had anything to say about it, clothes weren’t going to factor much
into the next couple of days. I had a couple of silk restraints I’d
like to see on her, strategically placed around her wrists and
ankles, but that was about it.

“Wow.” She walked
over to the large window above the sink in the kitchen. Yeah, that
about summed it up. I joined her and together we watched the winter
fury raging outside. “It’s a crazy storm.”

“Worst one in years.
And it’s going to be like this all day and into tomorrow.” I saw
a slight blush creep to her cheeks, the hint of a smile at the corner
of her lips. Maybe she did remember our conversation from last night.
But she needed some fuel in her first.

Together, we made toast
and scrambled eggs. I’d already brewed some coffee, nectar of the
gods. The pantry was stocked full of my favorite Italian brand. As
much as my celebrity status caused problems, it also brought many
small blessings on a daily basis. Like expensive, imported Italian
coffee in the middle of the storm of the century in the remote
California mountains.

“These are so good!”
Ana ate her eggs with relish.

“You’ve seen it all
from me now,” I confessed, enjoying them, myself. “I’ve boiled
you pasta and scrambled you eggs.” Food generally appeared in my
life. I hadn’t ever done much to procure it.

“No more tricks up
your sleeve?” Ana asked, smiling.

“Not in the kitchen.”
I winked at her and was rewarded with a faint blush again. Man, she
was fun to tease. And I’d lied, just then. I had a few more
kitchen-related tricks. They just weren’t related to cooking food.

Outside, the storm
blasted relentlessly as we washed our dishes. She sent her parents a
quick text that she was OK. Then she turned off her phone. I flicked
on the TV to check the weather report. They’d sent some poor
schmuck out into the middle of it, wearing a parka with a hood so
enormous it threatened to swallow him whole.

“Stay indoors,” he
warned us. I didn’t need to be told twice.

“Oh, I didn’t see
this before!” Ana exclaimed. Over in an adjoining room off, she
spotted the grand piano. Normally, the room overlooked a spectacular
view of the Sierra Nevada mountain range. Today, it was surrounded by
white fury.

She sat down at the
instrument and I had to join her. But I kept my hands away from the
keys while she played me something classical I didn’t recognize,
but I had to guess it was Russian with the intense passion in the
chords. It complimented the storm raging outside. The Russians knew
their snow.

No bra, in my T-shirt,
I liked the look on her very much. There was something so deliciously
intimate about seeing her in my clothes. I’d never really had a
girlfriend before, not like this. I’d had my name linked with
others, most recently Mandy Monroe, but I was always on the go and it
made it easy to go in separate directions. I’d always wanted it
that way. Now I didn’t want Ana out of my sight.

My fingers joining hers
on the keyboard, we began creating something together, starting off
simple then blending into a more complex melody. I’d bring us back
to the chorus and she’d take it somewhere else. Then she’d bring
us back and I’d build on it, see where it led. It was exactly like
having a conversation, only I was better at this than at words. I’d
always been better with music, communicating with my hands. And my
body.

“Do you remember our
conversation from last night?” I asked as our fingers played over
the keys.

The blush on her cheeks
grew deeper this time, blooming there from deep within. “Yesterday
is kind of blurry. I remember feeling really out of it.”

I played a few keys,
the soundtrack of feeling so blue.

“And I remember you
kidnapped me,” she continued.

I played sounds of a
sinister villain stealing away the heroine from a classic Western.
“Then I gave you a bath,” I added, moving my fingers up the keys,
remembering how her skin had felt, so warm and soft as I lathered and
massaged her.

“That was good,”
she agreed, feeding notes into my tapestry of sound.

“And then we climbed
in bed together,” I added, softly. “Do you remember that?”

The intake of her
breath, her nipples ripe and pebbling under my soft, thin T-shirt.
She remembered.

“We talked about you
surrendering to me. Giving up control. I’d very much like to do
that with you. I’d like to tie you up. Blindfold you and play with
you. What do you think of that, Ana?” I took my hands off the keys
and brought them to her waist.

She inhaled at my
touch, my fingers seeming to electrify her. “I’m not sure.”

“Are you curious?”
A smile played at the corner of my mouth. I could tell she was, but I
wanted to hear her confess it.

“Yes,” she answered
shyly, her head tilting down.

“You don’t have to
be shy with me, Ana.” I took her chin in my hand and brought her
head up so I could meet her eyes level. “You don’t have to hide
anything.”

Her lips parted at my
suggestion. She wanted to go there with me, she just needed the right
invitation. She needed to feel safe.

“I want to take
control, Ana.” I caressed a finger down her face, her smooth skin,
and she leaned into my touch. “But you can always tell me to stop.”

She opened up her eyes
and looked into mine. “Are you going to hurt me?”

“No, baby, not like
that.” I kissed her and gave her a reassuring embrace. “I don’t
want to beat you or whip you or any of that hardcore play. There
might be a little pain, but I’m not a sadist. I’m dominant. Let
me show you the difference.”

I wanted to lean down
and capture her lips with mine, feast on her, but I needed to give
her this space, this distance in which to make her decision. I could
feel her teetering on the edge, wanting to take the plunge, but I
couldn’t push her over. If I did, I’d run the risk of her
spluttering with indignation when she surfaced. No, this had to be
her choice. She had to relinquish control to me.

“Do you trust me?”
I asked her, unable to stop myself from leaning in for a nibble. Her
neck felt so sweet, her light scent and smooth skin a rare delicacy.

Her breath caught in
her throat, right where I licked and sucked. “Yes,” she breathed,
her body still tense. But tension could be good. Tension could build
and heighten the ultimate release.

“Then let me play,
Anika. I’ll make it good for you.” I trailed kisses along the
edge of the collar of the T-shirt she wore. I wanted it off. As I
murmured into her skin, “No one has to know,” a shiver traveled
up her body. She began a soft pant, her nipples hard and ready,
pressing against the fabric of her shirt. She liked that idea. The
intimate, private playground we could create together, here in the
mountains.

“We’re snowed in,”
I whispered, husky against her, my hands traveling up to cup her
breasts. So soft, so responsive, I needed her naked now. But before I
did that, I need her to say yes. “This will be our secret.”

“Yes.” She spoke it
softly, a whisper of an exhale more than a declarative yes. I pulled
away and looked into her eyes.

“Yes?” She needed
to be sure.

“Yes.” This time
she spoke with more authority, more sure of herself. She wanted this.

I didn’t need any
more invitation. Standing up, I pulled her up with me and picked her
up into my arms. She didn’t weigh that much and she felt so good
pressed against me. We kissed our way into the master bedroom,
leisurely. My blood pounded and boiled within me, tense urgency
filling my veins. But I slowed myself down. We weren’t in a rush.
We weren’t going anywhere and no one was going to interrupt us.
There was every reason in the world to make this last.

Gently, I placed her
down next to the bed. I took a few steps away. “Strip for me, Ana.”
I’d seen her naked before, of course, but we’d been so frenzied,
so frantic for each other. I wanted to watch her reveal herself to
me, see her arousal deepen as she grew more vulnerable.

She brought her fingers
to the hemline of her T-shirt, looking up at me and biting her plump
lip. Then she pulled it up and over her head in one swift motion. Her
breasts jiggled with the movement, soft and ripe, pillowed above her
trim waist. Her nipples were a perfect dark pink, like lush
strawberries atop her creamy mounds. I wanted to sink my teeth right
into them.

“Boxers,” I
demanded, already feeling the stiff press of my cock against my
jeans. She got me hard just sitting next to her on the piano bench.
Watching her stand there topless, nothing but my boxers covering her
lower half wasn’t going to last long.

She tucked her fingers
into the waistband and slowly slid them down her curves, stepping out
of them with a natural grace. Even the curve of her spine as she bent
down turned me on. Every movement, every shift made me harder. She
drew herself to her full height, Venus rising from the ocean. Only,
thankfully, her hair just grazed her shoulders and didn’t leave
anything to the imagination.

“Lie down on the bed
on your back,” I commanded. If she hesitated, I didn’t see. I was
already reaching for my bag where I’d packed a few restraints. I’d
never been a Boy Scout, but that didn’t mean I didn’t know how to
always be prepared.

When I returned to the
bed, she was lying there as I’d told her. I pulled the silk band
taut in my hand with a snap. She jumped at the noise, looking at the
restraint nervously. With swift, sure movements, I caught her wrist
and bound her to the bedpost, then did the same on the other side.
She watched me as I worked, tense. I made sure she was held tight but
not uncomfortable. I wanted her to be able to squirm, enough room to
pull at her restraints, but not enough to break free. She needed to
feel bound.