Tangled Up Read online

  “Some things,” Caite said quietly, “don’t need to be named to enjoy them.”

  They stared at each other. She smiled, urging his own. Whatever it was, she made him want to do it. To please her. To give to her. To give in.

  “I’ve never—” he began, and she put a fingertip to his lips.

  “Shhh. I know. On your back,” Caite said. “Hands above your head.”

  In the past he’d indulged lovers who’d wanted to ride him, but this was different. This was…everything. When she shimmied out of her panties and straddled him, her skirt pushed to her hips, the stockings sleek against him, his fingers gripped the wooden spindles of his headboard hard enough to make it creak.

  “Condom?” she asked matter-of-factly.

  “Bedside table…. How did you know I’d…?”

  “I was hoping. You’d have been a very sad man if you didn’t have anything,” she whispered, reaching, the motion putting her delectable breasts within reach of his mouth. She laughed when he made to kiss her there and pulled away with a condom in her hand. “Ah, ah, ah.”

  In seconds she’d sheathed him. A moment after that, she’d settled herself on him with a groan he echoed. His prick throbbed inside her, and again Jamison feared he might spill. She gripped him with internal muscles, rocking, and again he made the headboard complain.

  “Slow,” she whispered, and reached to unpin her hair. It tumbled around her shoulders in waves of deep honey-blond, and though he longed to sink his fingers into it, Jamison kept his grip tight on the headboard, just as she’d told him to.

  She fucked him slowly, every rock and shift of her bringing him to the edge, only to have the pleasure settle back again. Caite closed her eyes, head tipping back. She hadn’t unbuttoned more than a couple buttons on her blouse, just enough to give him a hint of cleavage. She ran her hands over her breasts, then her belly, sliding her fingers between them to stroke her clit as her hips moved faster.

  She opened her eyes. “I came so hard when your mouth was on me, do you know that?”

  “I’m glad,” he found the strength to say.

  Caite moved faster, biting her lower lip in concentration. Her eyes met his, not looking away. He let himself drown in their darkness.

  “I want you to feel good, Jamison. The way you made me feel.”

  “I…do…”

  “Tell me how good.”

  He fucked upward, unable to help it. “Feels so damned good, Caite. I want to come.”

  “I want you to come,” she said. “But not just yet. Let me….”

  “Oh, yeah.”

  She cried out, low and raspy. Her pussy bore down on him, milking him, and he fought to keep himself from finishing, even though the world was tipping from the effort. He wanted to come, but his desire to feel her come around his cock was greater than his need to climax. He watched her ride him, her head tipped back, eyes closed in abandon. She was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen in that moment, when at last she shook with pleasure and cried out his name. The sound of it triggered him at last, and he finished with a hoarse shout.

  She covered him with her body for a few seconds, her hair sweeping over him, before she rolled to the side with a contented sigh. “Damn.”

  Jamison let go of the headboard finally and rolled onto his side to face her. Tucking her hand under her cheek, Caite smiled at him. With her other hand, she pushed away some hair from his forehead and let her fingertip run down his nose to tap lightly on his lips before she got up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed.

  She was…leaving?

  “Wait a minute,” Jamison said.

  She glanced at him over her shoulder, already pinning up her hair again. “Hmm?”

  “You can stay.”

  Caite laughed. “I know I can. But I’m not going to.”

  He sat up, confused and hating it. “Why not?”

  “Because,” she said as she leaned to kiss him softly, “you will be a grouch in the morning and we’ll have to have some sort of weird discussion about what this is or what we are, and you’ll be awkward about us working together. And I just can’t deal with it, Jamison. I’ve just had the best sex of my life, ever, and I’d love to bask in the afterglow, but I know you. You’re going to…”

  She paused with a low hitch in her breath, the confident woman he’d come to crave fading for a moment before she visibly shook herself into self-assurance again. She looked him in the eyes, cupping his face before letting him go. Stepping out of reach.

  “I don’t want regret,” Caite said. “I couldn’t stand it, to be honest. It would kill me.”

  “I don’t regret it.” The moment he said it, he knew it was true. “Don’t go. Stay here with me.”

  She eyed him, and he could see that as reluctant as she was to agree, she wanted to. “Jamison…”

  He didn’t try to reach for her, but he got off the bed and moved close enough that she could touch him if she wanted to. “I’m not a man who takes no for an answer.”

  Caite lifted an eyebrow but didn’t disagree.

  “I know what I want and how to get it. It’s kind of a thing of mine—”

  “I’ve noticed,” she said drily. “You kind of have a reputation.”

  He smiled. “I want you to stay with me tonight. And in the morning, I’ll make you breakfast. Anything you like.”

  “French toast? With powdered sugar?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  Caite crossed her arms, looking stern. “Do you have powdered sugar?”

  “No. Or eggs. Or milk. Or bread. But I’ll get up early enough in the morning to get to the store before you wake up so I can buy everything I need to make you what you want.”

  “Is that what a submissive man does?” Caite asked, almost as though she was musing.

  “I don’t know,” Jamison said, and finally took her in his arms to tug her closer for a long, lingering kiss. “But I know it’s what I do.”

  * * *

  When Jamison Wolfe committed to something, he did it at full speed. It shouldn’t have surprised Caite, not after watching him work. But discovering that he was very much the same way at play was still a delight and a wonder and something she was going to need more than a few weeks to get used to, no matter how exciting those weeks had been. She’d had devoted boyfriends who’d bowed to her every whim and aggressive lovers who had fought her on everything. She’d never been with a man who could spend the afternoon completely catering to her every need without ever asking her what she wanted as flawlessly and confidently as if he’d downloaded her personal instruction manual, and then spend the night on his knees in front of her while she ordered him to edge himself to orgasm over and over until only the barest breath of her on his cock sent him over the edge.

  The combination was heady and electric, and she couldn’t get enough, but…

  “Enough,” Caite breathed as his fingers slowed inside her. Her orgasm had flooded her entire body that time. Boneless and sated, she sank into the couch cushions and tried to catch her breath.

  Jamison kissed her mouth, then got up to pour them both glasses of orange juice from the carafe on the tray he’d set on the coffee table. He’d made her breakfast, hand-fed her bits of French toast and sausage, then made love to her until they both fell asleep on the thick rug in front of the fireplace. Then he’d woken her with his hands and mouth and brought her to another rousing orgasm, and now he was hydrating her.

  She could love this man, Caite thought blearily. The idea of it was enough to make her sit up straight. She took the juice. “Thanks, baby.”

  Jamison brushed her sweat-damp hair off her forehead and kissed her again. “Have to keep my princess happy.”

  Caite eyed him. “Princess, huh?”

  His answer was a cheeky grin. He’d never called her mistress. She hadn’t asked him to. She’d thought about asking him to call her domina but hadn’t done that, either. Yet.

  “Sure. You don’t like it?”