Who's on Top? Page 15

  She lay there, his beautiful captive, and he smiled—not at her helplessness but at her trust. It heated him, undid him, made him want to bring her all the pleasure he could. But he wasn’t finished yet.

  Dominic walked to the foot of the bed, took Jane by the heels and gently spread her legs as wide as was comfortable for her. Her breathing quickened significantly and her whole body went tense. “Shhhh. It’s okay.”

  He bound one ankle to the footboard and then the other so that she was spread-eagle. Then he returned to the living room for the lotion they’d left there.

  “Dominic?” she called, her voice nervous. “Dom?”

  “It’s okay, honey. I’m just bringing in the camera.”

  Jane gasped, tried to tug her knees together and shrieked, “Noooo!” She’d never in her life been this vulnerable to anyone. How could she have given him this power over her?

  She couldn’t see a thing, couldn’t move, couldn’t avoid his gaze at her most intimate areas. She felt bare, exposed and completely helpless.

  His footsteps came closer and his deep voice washed over her. “I’m kidding, Jane,” he said. “Do you really think I would do that?”

  His voice calmed her, even though she thrilled to it, as always. She stilled and shook her head.

  “All right, then. Remember, all you have to do is ask me to stop and I will. But we’re going to pretend that’s not the case, okay? This,” he chuckled, “is a little bit different from the kind of role-playing you’re used to at the office.”

  She wet her lips, then swallowed. She nodded.

  The timbre of Dominic’s voice changed with his next words. “For right now, you are mine. And I’m going to do things to you you’ve never even dreamed of. I’m going to make you scream.”

  Just his words had her panting. But instead of a more intimate body part, he took her foot in his hands and began to rub lotion into it, working the muscles near the arch and the ball. His hands felt like heaven, warm and assertive and powerful. Soothing and titillating at the same time. She sighed.

  And then he started to make love to her with his voice. “I’ve got a spectacular view from down here, darling Jane. I can see the taut muscles of your calves and those very cute knees….”

  She automatically stiffened, knowing where his eyes would travel next, and embarrassed.

  “I can see the tiny spasms of pleasure shooting upward and the way your thighs tremble. And I think it’s adorable how you’re trying to press them together, straining against the ties at your ankles. But you can’t, can you, sweetheart? Because I’ve got you naked and spread-eagle, and in just a little while, I’m gonna to eat you up until you’re bucking and writhing and you beg me to stop.”

  He leaned forward then, still massaging her foot, and blew a delicate airstream up and between her legs. “But even then I won’t. I’m gonna keep eating you, keep sucking you until you go wild. Until you don’t remember your name anymore. Until you get it confused with mine. I’m going to ruin you for any other guy, baby. No other man can make you come like I can make you come.”

  Jane felt a series of hot flashes break across her body; her nipples hardened and she felt droplets of perspiration break out between her legs. Nobody had ever talked dirty to her this way.

  Dominic made circles at her arch. “I’m going to rub your breasts like this,” he murmured. “Each one. And then I’m going to take your nipples into my mouth and suck hard, just like this.” He bent his head, and his mouth closed around each one of her toes, tongue laving the clefts between them.

  Ugh, she thought. What if they’re not clean? “Dominic,” she protested. “You can’t do that—”

  “I can do anything I want to,” he purred. “Remember?” He laughed softly. “You’re so cute when you tense up like that. Did you know that every part of you tenses? Even that sweet part of you—it frowns at me. Makes me wanna just nibble on it, just like this.”

  The breath hitched in her throat as she felt his breath right there. And then his tongue touched her—just a tickle, really—and she cried out, almost melting on the spot.

  He chuckled, brushed the back of his hand across her belly and went back to the end of the bed, taking her other foot into his hands. Her thighs were trembling with need, and she ached for him to touch her erogenous zones, but he continued to calmly massage her foot and talk dirty.

  “Your lips down there—pouting at me so pretty—they’re ever so kissable, honey. Just peeking out, winking at me from their little hiding place. So hot. So pink. So good.”

  She was going to spontaneously combust if he didn’t stop. Or didn’t start. Or, or, or something.

  “And the way your thighs blossom into those gorgeous little cheeks of yours, mmm. So round and soft and sexy—the way they curve around and tease me. I just wanna take a big bite right now.”

  The toes of her other foot were in his mouth, and he sucked them as if he couldn’t get enough. Jane felt the pull of his mouth in other parts of her, felt his lips everywhere, and she moaned.

  He worked lotion into her calves next, hands moving slickly on her skin, gripping and manipulating her muscles. Slowly he came to the backs of her knees, then kneecaps and finally to her thighs, his thumbs circling and dipping higher, then lower in a maddening tease.

  She stirred restlessly and he chuckled again. “What do you want, Jane? Hmm? Tell me what you want, baby.”

  She kept silent, though, ashamed to say it out loud. She wasn’t the kind of woman who gave directions. Wait a minute. Yes, she was. Just not—not in bed, where it was easier if people just read minds. In her fantasies, the guy always knew exactly what to do before she even knew it herself.

  But Dom wasn’t letting her slide. “Tell me, Jane. If you don’t, I’ll just have to stop. Do you want me to stop?”

  No! She shook her head.

  “Then what do you want?”

  “I want you to…” This was embarrassing.

  “What?”

  “I want you to…squeeze both of my breasts together and…put them in your mouth.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  Oooh, did she like the sound of that!

  Dom straddled her, cupped her breasts and suckled them, driving all coherent thought out of her head. She hummed with pleasure. When he finally raised his head, she was near delirious. “Now what?”

  “I want you to…” She didn’t know if she could say it aloud. “I want—”

  He stared at her from under half-closed lids, breathing hard himself. “Come on, Jane. Say it.”

  She bit her lip.

  “Say it!”

  “I want you to go down on me.”

  He broke into an exultant, wicked grin and slowly backed down, between her legs. Then he bent his head to her.

  She screamed—unable to help herself—as he took all of her into his mouth. White-hot pleasure rocked her body and pounded in waves to her core, bringing her release, but a relentless one, shaking her like a rag doll as still he wouldn’t remove his mouth, even though she twisted and bucked and cried out again and again. Finally his tongue gentled her, brought her back down to earth with slow, calming strokes. She lay absolutely spent and understood for the first time why the French refer to orgasm as “the little death.”

  Though Jane couldn’t believe that she’d let Dominic tie her up, she wasn’t sure now that she wanted to be untied….

  DOMINIC LAY BESIDE HER later, listening to her even breathing. He smiled in the knowledge that he had bridged her defenses, challenged her clinician’s superiority and engineered her release of control. Jane was no longer analyzing or managing his behavior—she was reveling in her own. He loved this side of her.

  The question was: could she put aside her background and her training enough to enjoy a normal relationship?

  19

  JANE AWOKE AT THREE IN THE morning with one of Dom’s legs thrown over hers and his arm across her belly. It set off every alarm bell in her head.

  Aha! Poss
essive, alpha-male behavior, even in his sleep. See, this can’t go on. You’ve got to break it off now, before it gets too complicated.The romantic side of her argued. Aw, what he’s doing isn’t possessive, it’s sweet and loving.

  Ha. A lot you know.

  The sex kitten in her mewled, How can you give up this guy’s between-the-sheets techniques?

  Easily. It’s been scientifically documented that romantic love, and usually frequent sex, die in relationships after a maximum of three years.

  You are such a cynic. There are lots of romantic, sex-charged relationships out there.

  Exceptions to the rule. And I won’t be lucky enough to be an exception.

  How do you know?

  Go away. I have to pee.

  Fine. But can’t we just keep him around for amazing sex? Just for a few weeks?

  No!

  Jane slipped from beneath Dom. He stirred sleepily but didn’t wake—just rolled onto his back and looked like a magnificent, snoozing Caesar. Even with his features relaxed, he vibrated power. He had an arrogant nose. His lips pulsed with sensuality. He was far, far too good-looking. Good-looking men always demanded their share of obeisance, and she simply wasn’t up for kissing His Highness’s ring. So there.

  She headed quietly for the bathroom and went through the motions of relieving herself. Nope, no ring-kissing for her. She preferred nice, humble men who knew their limitations—like her father. He was sensible, stable and didn’t demand too much from life. He’d been content to be ruled by her mother….

  So what are you saying, Jane? That you want a man who kisses your ring? Oh, that’s fair.

  “That’s not it at all!” she said aloud.

  Great. She was not only talking to herself but now answering. Having entire conversations with voices in her head. This did not bode well for her sanity. She pulled her robe off the back of the bathroom door and headed for the living room, where she sat cross-legged on the couch, staring out a window at the trees illuminated by a streetlight.

  Jane turned from self-examination to ethics. From an ethical standpoint alone, sleeping with Dom was wrong. She had to cut things off immediately.

  Worse, she’d been weak. Weak to give in to him and weak to give in to herself. The sexual byplay between them had turned into a power struggle, just like everything else, and she had lost.

  So what if she never had another orgasm during intercourse again? She couldn’t afford to turn into a weak, mewling, moonstruck, malleable, mawkish, m—uh. She was running out of m adjectives and finally settled on pathetic. Yep, pathetic pretty much summed everything up.

  She couldn’t afford to turn into a pathetic, love-scrambled mess—especially over a guy like Dominic. He was a lot like cocaine in male terms. Not that she’d ever done cocaine. But she’d studied its effects and she was positive that Dominic was pure coca leaf for easily addicted women.

  Now, back to that losing thing. She refused to do that either—not on a permanent basis. So she’d lost a couple of rounds and given in to her own sexuality. Big deal. That didn’t mean she’d lost the game. It was time to take back the power while she still could.

  I am woman, Jane told herself. Hear me roar— “Yaahhk!”

  Someone had sneaked up behind her and kissed her neck. Jane screeched and shot upward. Her head collided with something hard.

  “Uuurrfff. Ow!”

  She then fell forward, ending ass-up on the carpet with her robe around her ears.

  “If you hadn’t just broken my jaw with your skull, I’d be admiring the view,” said Dom.

  “You scared the crap outta me!”

  “And here I was, trying to be affectionate. Christ, woman!”

  Jane jerked her robe over her bare butt and assumed a human, rather than canine, position. “Do you need ice?”

  “If this is what a guy gets when he nuzzles your neck, how do you react to a good old-fashioned snuggle?”

  She inspected his jaw, ignoring the question. “It’s not broken.”

  “I’m asking a serious question here. Would I get a knife in the ribs, or your knee in my ’nads?”

  She glared at him. “Depends on my mood. Now, do you want ice or not?”

  Dom rubbed at his jaw. “Nah. But I’d sure like you to kiss it and make it better.” He smiled that addictive smile of his.

  She felt her insides going all soft and gooey, which was of course the evil man’s plan. “Look, Dom, we’ve got to talk.”

  He looked at the glowing blue numbers of the clock on her stereo. “Now? It’s 3:35 a.m. I can think of a lot of better things to do than talk.”

  “I can’t,” she said firmly. “Want some coffee?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “Hot chocolate?”

  He stopped rubbing at his jaw and began to look resigned. “Sure.”

  She padded into the kitchen, pulled out the milk and poured two cups into a saucepan. She set it on a burner of her stove and turned on the gas underneath it. Then she retrieved cocoa powder and sugar from her pantry.

  “Oh, good. You make real hot chocolate, not the lousy packet kind with water.”

  “Of course.”

  “What do you need to talk about at 3:37 a.m. that involves you creating a diversion with the stove and a beverage? Are you going to do this every night?”

  She stirred the warming milk with a wooden spoon. “No. Because this is the last night. It has to be.”

  He sighed and yawned. “Must you give me the kiss-off speech before 4:00 a.m.? Don’t you think it’s a little early?”

  He didn’t seem upset at all. She told herself that was good. She told herself that was excellent, in fact. She refused to be miffed that he wasn’t hurt or surprised or angry—even if it did take a small toll on her ego. Jane stopped stirring and put her hands on her hips. “Would you prefer that I wait until five?”

  “No,” he said in the voice of reason. “I’d prefer that you not give the speech at all. But you will, being you.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “You’ve got a whole load of excuses up both sleeves, Jane, and we both know it. Do you have them on index cards? Or did you memorize them, in alphabetical order?”

  She gaped at him for a moment before recovering. “That’s so unfair.”

  “Nope. It’s true.”

  The milk was bubbling angrily now, and she slid her wooden spoon under the thin skin that had formed on the surface. The nasty stuff clung to the spoon. She turned off the heat under the pot, carried it to the sink and poured a little milk into each of the cups she’d set out. This turned the chocolate and sugar mixture into goo and enabled her to beat out the cocoa lumps before pouring the rest of the milk in. She gave a final stir to each cup and then handed him one.

  “Look,” she began. “I only have two reasons for breaking this off now, while it’s still fun. And they are not excuses, okay?”

  His eyes had grown hooded and his lips had flattened, but he listened.

  “One, we are two very strong personalities. And in my experience—”

  He snorted.

  “—relationships between two extremely stubborn individuals do not work because each constantly seeks to control the other.”

  Dom sipped his chocolate. “Which keeps things interesting.”

  “Which makes things bloody in the long run,” she corrected.

  “What a cop-out. So what’s reason number two?”

  “Reason number two has to do with my professional ethics. I have never slept with a client. I’ve made a mistake with you, and the only way to rectify that error in judgment is not to do so again.”

  “How flattering,” said Dom. “To be an error in judgment.”

  “Dom, you know what I’m saying….” Jane retreated behind her own mug of chocolate and avoided his gaze.

  “Yeah. I know what you’re saying. And I also know what you’re not saying. What you’re not saying is that you’re scared of letting things go any further. And you’re also not saying tha
t you’re afraid you’re being weak. It’s all very symbolic, Doc, if you think about it.”

  “Don’t call me ‘Doc.’” She set her cup down with a snap.

  “Fine. Back to the symbolism. You’re afraid of losing your pants.”

  “What?”

  “Yup. Who wears the pants, Jane? If you don’t have them on, you’re naked and vulnerable. You’re not in control.”

  “That is so not true. Would you leave the psychology to me, please? It’s not your field.”

  Dom raised his hands, palms up. “Treading on your territory, darlin’ Jane? My apologies. After all, I’m not supposed to have any insights. I’m just the beef here—you’re the farmer.”

  Her jaw worked. “I think you should leave now.”

  “Getting out your cattle prod?”

  It sure is tempting. How did the guy make her feel so in the wrong? Especially when she was doing the right thing? She was being ethical, darn it. And fair, too! So why didn’t she feel better about it?

  20

  ARIANNA DUBOSE HAD RESEMBLED a hornet the last time Jane saw her. Today she looked like a rabid bat. She flew into Jane’s office at Finesse, swooped down upon her in black dolman sleeves and extended her claws to get a good grip on her neck before she bit down hard.

  In those narrow claws she held Dominic’s evaluation, and her blood-red lips opened in a snarl to display her pointed teeth. Jane figured she must have used her rearview mirror to wipe her mouth free of foam flecks before entering the building.“Hello, Arianna. I was expecting you.”

  “This,” hissed the woman, “is not what we discussed.”

  “Please have a seat. Would you like coffee?”

  “No. What I would like is to reach an agreement which I thought we’d already settled.”

  “Arianna—”

  “I made you an excellent offer.”

  “You certainly did, but—”

  “You want to play hardball. I’ll up the offer by twenty percent. That’s it.”

  “Thank you. I’m flattered. But I have to decline.”

  Arianna stared at her. “Jane, dear. Are you crazy or just stupid?”