Only Her Page 2

  Given his attitude, she wondered why he bothered with this unnecessary grandstanding and heartily wished she had of a more athletic bent, and then she would have been able to get away from him, as she desperately wanted to.

  Probably. At least, she might have had a better chance at it, anyway. The man was damned fast for someone of his size, and he kept himself in fighting shape, as if he thought he was going to have to face a physical challenge every day, as he had during his time in the military.

  Anna couldn't bear to be in his presence for a second longer, but no amount of pulling on the door budged him in the slightest.

  And he was entirely too close. Disturbingly so. She could smell his familiar aftershave – one that, when she smelled it in a store or on another man she always thought of him – his warm, tequila breath blew down onto her hair, and she could feel the warmth he radiated even though they weren't touching. Goosebumps rose unbidden all over her body, along with nipples that had been too long dormant.

  Except around him.

  "Move your foot, Tink." The command in his voice wasn't easy for her to ignore, despite the childish nickname he'd bestowed on her from the first time he'd met her, when the Head of Personnel – all one of her in that department – had brought her up to meet him during the process of interviewing her for her first position as a dealer.

  Dev had insisted – and still did – on meeting everyone who worked for him. If they made it through all the hoops to his office, they were going to be hired. Even back then, no one wanted to be the one who wasted his time.

  For reasons she could no longer remember, she had made the mistake of mentioning that her full first name was Annabelle.

  From behind an unprepossessingly small desk that he dwarfed but still managed not to look cartoonish at, somehow, he had fixed her with the intense look he had since become legendary for using on his subordinates, and said without cracking a smile, "No, you look more like a Tinkerbell, I think."

  She'd smiled and told him that had been her family's nickname for her because of her slight resemblance to the character – and she'd been Tink to him – among other much less complimentary variations and monikers – ever since.

  As they stood there and she remained stock still, declining to do as he'd asked, his other hand came up to cup not her shoulder, not even the small of her back, but her bottom firmly, and with no small amount of both threat and promise in that very personal touch.

  He'd never been physically inappropriate with her in any way – verbally, well, that was their preferred mode of communication. They each had filthy minds, and the same woman who had interviewed her – after overhearing one of their exchanges – despaired of ever getting him to see that he should not speak to a female subordinate in those graphic terms.

  But he had kept his hands to himself. Despite the succession of hot and cold running beauties that decorated his arm, she kept her mouth shut, for the most part, about them, although he knew better than to introduce any of them to her because he'd hear about them later in the not so subtle jibes she'd let loose on him any time he ended up doing so.

  But she was the one who'd begun this little social experiment, not him, and he felt that allowed him a few liberties.

  And, at first flush, he intended to disabuse her of her notion and resolved to take steps to discourage her from thinking along those lines about him permanently. Dev didn't think that it was a good idea for them to become involved. It would upset the status quo, and, honestly, he – and his business – were too dependent on their working relationship for him to let sex mess up the longest relationship he'd ever had with any woman -including – and especially – his mother.

  His dick, however, had other ideas.

  Visions of the wet dreams he'd had about her from the very beginning clouded his mind. Especially the ones where he spanked her, something she'd confessed she was into, late one evening – or, more accurately, early one morning – when they were alone in his office after pulling one of their first all nighters trying to get things in line for the next day, and had had entirely too much to drink.

  That abominable hangover had been worth many, many more highly frustrating nights.

  Although his blue balls didn't stop him from probing her dirty little mind whenever he felt she was relaxed enough for him to do so without upsetting her sometimes surprisingly modest tendencies in regards to herself. Getting her to admit much more to him than she might have if he had come on to her, pushed her too hard or even taunted, or teased her with what he knew about her the next day.

  No, he'd played it cool and kept all of that tantalizing information to himself, usually able to keep himself from being too dominant with her, although he was not always successful in his attempts to dampen his protective tendencies towards her.

  And yet, considering what she'd asked of him, the thought that fought its way through all of that Anna-centered-fantasy-porn to the forefront of his mind was whether or not he could tolerate the idea of how he would feel if he turned her down and she found someone else to ask to fuck her.

  Someone she would inevitably not know as well, and thus, might put herself at risk in doing so.

  Someone else she would let touch her in the ways he had always wanted to.

  Someone who wouldn't treat her in the manner in which she deserved to be treated – roughly, lovingly, protectively, dominantly.

  They way he'd spent long hours – when he probably should have been working – fantasizing about treating her.

  Thus, his hand had hit the door, preventing her from leaving, before he'd even realized he'd gotten up.

  And now he stood there, staring down at her while she curled her tiny, frosted pink nailed toes, not having moved so much as an inch, despite the hand that cupped her behind.

  "Where do you think you're going? You can't ask a man a question like that and then just run out on him."

  Her head shot up, eyes blazing. "I most certainly can if that man responds to my question in tone that makes me think that he regards the idea with the same enthusiasm he'd exhibit if I'd asked him to let Freddie Kruger give him a hernia test."

  Ah. At least now, he knew what had upset her. She wasn't given to dramatic displays, or tears, or attention seeking behaviors of any kind, or he would never have become so close to her, but, in replaying what he'd said and how he'd said it in his mind, he could see how she might have taken it differently from how he intended it.

  Since she didn't seem inclined to obey him – something she'd definitely have to work on – he removed her choice, sliding the hand that had been fondling her up to wrap his arm around her waist and lift, closing and locking the door one-handed, then walking with her back to the couch.

  Their normal seating arrangements no longer applied, as far as he was concerned, so he set her down next to him, instead, and left that restraining arm around her, knowing that her first impulse would be to try to bolt away from him again.

  Sometimes knowing someone really well was an advantage.

  He leaned forward and handed her the full shot glass she'd left on his cheap, pressed board coffee table. "Drink. It's a sin not to drink a shot that's been poured for you."

  She snorted. "Like it's a sin not to finish a bottle of tequila that's been opened?"

  He grinned, looking almost like the mischievous little boy he must've been at one time, saying with practiced innocence, "I can't help it if it goes bad." And he downed his own neglected shot.

  She was still sitting there, glass in hand, when he murmured just loudly enough for her to hear, "If you don't take that shot right now, Tinkerbell, my girl, I'm going to put you over my lap, flip up your skirt, pull down your panties and make you wish you'd obeyed me when you had the chance."

  It was her turn to look stunned.

  And – he was gratified to watch her pupils dilate at the center of those beautiful green eyes – aroused, too.

  Chapter 2

  She did as she was told, and he took the small glass from he
r, setting it on the table in front of them, next to his, then guided her into the very position he had just threatened her with – and doing exactly what he'd said he'd do. Before she could even begin to deal with what was happening, those big hands had her skirt bunched up around her waist. They ripped her tiny panties off her with frightening ease and landed a heart stopping swat to the very center of her bare butt that made her begin to seriously reconsider what it was that she'd found sexy all her life.

  Anna tried to raise herself up by her arms, but found she couldn't. He was holding her down – not hurting her, but very definitely preventing her from moving much, and definitely from leaving his lap.

  "Wait – what?" she asked, continuing to struggle but getting nowhere.

  His dark chuckle was like a fingertip flicking the very crest of her already engorged clit, making her have to clamp down on a moan she didn't want him to hear. "I'm sorry if my tone gave you the opposite impression of how I was feeling about your question. But…yes."

  Outraged. You're outraged to find yourself in this position – remember that, woman! You're not beginning to drip moisture onto where your panties should have been, you don't wish he'd put his hand on your butt again, and you certainly do not want to surrender yourself and melt over his lap in a puddle.

  "Yes, what?" she screeched uncharacteristically back at him. "What am I doing here? Put my clothes back on and let me up!"

  "You asked me if I would like to have sex with you, and I was just answering you straightforwardly. Yes."

  As he spoke, his hand roamed over the area he had just bared and swatted, and Anna thought she was going to break her teeth trying not to moan aloud. He was touching her just how she'd thought he might, with a devastating combination of tenderness and possession.

  "I withdrew that question," she ground out. "You are no longer obligated to answer it. You are obligated to let me up before I start to scream bloody murder, Russo!"

  His hand came down sharply – and completely unexpectedly – on her defenseless flesh, leaving her unable to suppress a yelp of equal parts surprise and pain. "You are not allowed to withdraw that question."

  Anna had a horrible feeling she'd gotten into something she shouldn't have with him – and asking him to have sex with her was just a small part of it. Granted, this was something she'd been fantasizing about for quite some time, but she'd never expected to have to deal with its reality. And the cold, stark truth was that she was beginning to think that a dominant Devon was much too much for her to handle.

  Besides, that probably wasn't what he wanted, anyway.

  So she switched tactics from angry to attempting to mollify him. "Look, Dev, I should never have asked you. It was stupid of me – I'm sorry –"

  Gentle fingers rubbed the spot that was pinkening nicely. "No need to apologize. I think it's a wonderful idea, as long as we keep this all separate from work, of course. But I want something just as intimate from you in return – perhaps more so. Something that I'm not sure you're going to be willing to give me."

  Another swat, harder than the last one, making her "eep!" loudly.

  "But I think you can probably guess what it is by the position you're in right now."

  Holy fu –

  He couldn't.

  He didn't!

  He couldn't!

  She realized she was starting to repeat herself and stopped the runaway train that was her mind trying to wrap itself around the concept he was dancing around. She knew that he knew what she fantasized about – she might have been drunk, but she wasn't blackout drunk. Her lips became very loose when she drank around him, and he often picked her brain – from a carefully neutral perspective, never applying or attributing anything to himself – about what got her hot when the liquor rendered her more vulnerable to him than she let herself be with anyone else.

  He'd gotten her to confess her deepest, darkest desires and had even gone so far as to extract a promise – technically non-binding, of course – from her that she wouldn't pursue them with someone before she'd introduced the guy to him so that he could give him the once over.

  Anna had thought that was touchingly protective and had agreed immediately, in her drunken state, because she'd been celibate for so long that she couldn't imagine a time when she wouldn't be alone.

  "You want to spank me?"

  Dev chuckled. "That, and more. Much, much more." As he spoke, he dropped one of those long runner's legs suddenly, which put her off balance and forced her to reach and find the rug with her toes. He made sure she didn't fall off his lap, but kept her just off balance enough that she didn't feel she could pick her leg up again. The fingers of one hand curved around her hip to hold her lightly in place while the other took full advantage of the fact that her legs were now apart – not spread, exactly, but not clamped together they way they had been.

  He'd done that deliberately, so he could get to her, she realized suddenly, but too late.

  Rough fingertips were already exploring her with teasing, gossamer touches that wrenched a telling sigh from her lips while he gently parted the others, chuckling softly at what he found there. Dev had been wracking his brain about whether he had any lube secreted around this place – and if he did, it was probably so old that it would do them any good – but then he discovered her and realized that wasn't going to be a problem.

  "Dev –" she panted, burying her face in her hands so the sounds of her breath bellowing out her wouldn't be quite so noticeable. "Dev, you can't –"

  But he pulled her hands away, tightly gathering both of her wrists into one of his, and, as he drew them up to hold them mid back, Anna knew then – more definitively than at any time since she'd posed that fateful question – that she had just lost any chance of freeing herself from him.

  The fingers between her legs were slow and unhurried, but they never stopped moving as he spoke, that deep, quiet rumble of his only adding flame to the fires that were coursing through her.

  "I want all of you. I want to make love to you, and I want to fuck you, yes." He arched his hips against her so that she could feel the rigid bulge of his cock beneath her, even through his jeans, just as he sank a long, thick finger into her pussy at the same time. "But that's not near enough. If I have sex with you tonight –" After stroking into her – hard – several times, he moved those coated digits up a bit, and, as they slid over that tight little bundle of nerves, he growled, "It will only be as your Dom."

  How did he know just the right pressure – just the right movements – that made her want to whimper and keen and growl, to hold her breath and grind herself against him to get where she had to be? She hadn't been that specific in her drunken confessions, had she?

  But Dev deliberately kept his touch on the teasing side, encouraging and embracing her eager responses, bringing her relentlessly along, but not allowing her to get too close to satisfaction.

  Yet.

  "And not just for tonight. I was surprised when you told me that you were a submissive, you know. That's not how I'd come to think of you at all. But you're so strong a woman; I love the idea of dominating you, and I am going to retain that right past tonight. Me, and only me." He leaned down and kissed the nape of her neck, making her arch and shiver at the same time. "I won't demand that you don't sleep with anyone else. But I will be the only man with the right to punish you."

  Dev believed – probably even in what he considered to be his non-existent heart – that it was a pretty safe bet that she wasn't going to sleep with anyone else, because she was already so incredibly busy at work and he fully intended to keep her just as busy in his bed.

  "And I will. You will cry and beg me to stop – every time, I promise. I do not 'play spank'. Your punishments will be conducted for as long as I see fit, and with whatever implement I choose. I think you know me well enough to know I would never do you any kind of permanent damage, but there will be redness and welts and probably bruising – you're very fair, and I'm not likely to worry about avoiding those thi
ngs." The broad pad of his middle finger joined the index that was already there, surrounding that hard little button of hers and moving with excruciating slowness around it as he felt her muscles beginning to gather beneath his touch. "I've heard, over the years, a lot about what you want from a man, and I want to provide it for you. I want your very private, very personal submission to me, Annabelle."

  There was no escaping the rhythm he'd established between her legs, and her body didn't want her to. She knew what was going to happen to her – what he was quite deliberately bringing her to – and she made a last ditch effort to pull at her trapped wrists, knowing it was a futile effort but unable to not make it, just in case.

  And the sure knowledge that he wasn't going to just let her go – that he intended to keep her captive while he made her come – was nearly enough to set her off.

  When she was seconds away from that final build up – from which there was no turning back, no stopping – he stopped, closing his hand into a fist so that she wouldn't receive even the slightest bit of stimulation from him.

  "Devon! You can't stop! Please! Son of a – Nooooo!"

  He waited patiently for her wails to die down, then said softly, "I haven't heard you give me your consent yet, Tink."

  That nickname jangled in her ears as something she didn't necessarily want to hear at a time like this.

  As much as her body was clamoring for release, Anna's basic sense of self-preservation authored her next panted, disjointed words. "But – to what – talk – more – can't – now."

  He extended a finger and drew it slowly over the tip of her clit, once, then curled it back away from her. "How long have we known each other that you trust yourself to get completely plastered around me, to the point where I have to pour you – unconscious – into my spare bed, absolutely unmolested. That you make me hold your hand when you go to the dentist and call me before you call Triple A when you have a flat but you think you're not safe in my hands as someone you have acknowledged as being responsible for your care?"