The Donovan Dynasty: Bind Part 23

"The pleasure is mine."

He marked her, just above the area he'd scorched. "Eleven." She gasped. Then he moved to the other side. "Twelve, Sir."

Methodically, he continued, placing each about an inch above the last. They were biting, burning. "Thirteen. Fourteen." She'd lost count. "Fifteen? Sir?"

"Stop counting," he told her. "Simply surrender."

The next stole her breath.

Then he caught the inside of her thigh and she screamed.

"I'm waiting to hear you say yellow if you don't want me to continue," he said.

She didn't give it to him. She wanted this. Instead, she struggled back into the correct position.

She felt him at her p.u.s.s.y, his fingers, his mouth.

The pain drove the arousal to stunning new heights. Combined with the way he'd denied her earlier, she wanted to crawl out of her own skin.

She pulled against the restraints, trying to push her hips back so she could force him to lick more of her p.u.s.s.y.

With a small laugh, he moved away.

The ankle cuffs made it impossible for her to close her legs to a.s.suage the throbbing demand.

He continued the beating. Sensations merged, desire and anguish becoming one. His stripes went higher, until he'd covered her a.s.s. He was no longer gentle, and she loved it.

When she knew she could take no more, he tossed the whip onto the bench.

Then he fingered her p.u.s.s.y, and she felt his fingers get slicker. Before she realized what was happening, he withdrew, moved back and slowly pushed one of them into her a.s.s.

She froze.

"Go with it," he suggested.

He fondled her with his other hand, sliding a thumb against her c.l.i.t. He overwhelmed her, slipping in and out of her p.u.s.s.y while he simultaneously finger-f.u.c.ked her a.s.s.

She trembled, fighting against the restraints and needing them for rea.s.surance and balance. "This..."

"The reward."

"I'd do anything for this," she confessed.

He continued the relentless drive. Then she felt him turn a finger slightly to find her G-spot.

"f.u.c.k."

"Yes."

He pushed against that sensitive spot inside her and her whole body convulsed in response. She screamed his name.

Connor continued his a.s.sault until she collapsed forward and dropped her head.

He placed a light kiss on her bare shoulder then eased his fingers out of her, "Give me one second. I'm not going away."

She heard him wiping his hands. She'd barely noticed that he'd gone before he returned to her and unfastened her wrists.

Her legs were slightly cramped, and he rubbed them gently after he released them. "Tell me you brought a miniskirt or short dress for dinner tonight?"

"I'm afraid not."

"We can go buy you something. I want to see those bite marks from my whip."

He helped her to sit on the top platform of the bench. Against the vinyl, she felt the marks. A chill went through her, and she rubbed her arms.

Connor unb.u.t.toned his s.h.i.+rt and stripped it off so he could put it around her shoulders. She snuggled into its comfort. The feeling didn't just come from the warmth, she realized. It was also because the s.h.i.+rt bore his scent.

The sight of him half-naked made her mouth water. She knew he worked out, but she hadn't expected his abs to be so well defined. There wasn't a trace of excess weight on him, reminding her of how disciplined he was in every area of his life.

It terrified her how much she was attracted to him, how much she wanted his possession. She wasn't sure why he was waiting to take her to bed. Maybe to build her antic.i.p.ation, making sure she didn't feel rushed? At any rate, she was getting restless. She couldn't take her gaze off him. "Tell me you're not saving yourself for marriage," she said.

He grinned. "No chance. I fully intend to f.u.c.k you tonight, Lara. Be thinking about it."

Now she wasn't sure she could think about anything else.

"Can you walk in the shoes you brought?"

"Not far. But I have a pair of sandals, too."

"Let's get cleaned up and head out. There's a boutique just down the street."

She scowled. "You were serious about something short?"

"I always mean what I say." He looked at her purposefully.

She'd never gone shopping with a man before. Then again, she hadn't done a lot of the things that he demanded from her.

He wiped down the bench then the hilt of the whip before putting it away. "Shall we?"

Connor stepped aside and allowed her to pa.s.s. As she was walking, he pinched her b.u.t.t.

She squealed, stopped, turned and glared. "You may not joke, but you're an awful torment. I bet your siblings have stories about you."

"I couldn't have been a better big brother. They nominated me for awards."

"I bet."

He grinned beatifically.

In the master suite, she cleaned up then dressed again before slipping into sandals.

He dressed in khakis and a golf s.h.i.+rt with the Donovan Worldwide logo on it.

"I'm not sure whether you look like we're going on a yacht or whether you're going to quote a moving job for someone."

"I'm warning you, Lara," he said. But he shook his head. "You know, maybe it's not a bad idea. We should have Nathan look at acquiring a moving company. You can be our first client and make Mrs. Fuhrman look like a psychic."

"I'm not moving."

"Soaker tub," he said, adjusting his collar in the mirror.

She met his gaze in the gla.s.s. His eyes were frosty, serious. Mesmerizing.

"I've already told you I intend to have your total submissive surrender. I will do anything to ensure I get it."

Chapter Eight.

"Try it on."

"It will barely cover my a.s.s," Lara protested.

"My point entirely." He smiled. "Don't make me repeat myself."

She walked over to a nearby mirror and held the tiny dress in front of her.

It was black, clingy, plunging, skimpy. The triumvirate of c.o.c.k-swelling perfection.

"You've got to be kidding me."

He merely lifted an eyebrow.

"Connor, there's no way that this will work for me."

He said nothing. Over the years, he'd found that to be a solid technique. But with her, it was even more effective. She sorted through options quicker than average people. In his experience, she arrived at the right decisions.

"Fine." She turned back to face him. "I'll try it on, but I'm already telling you it will look terrible. My b.u.t.t..."

"A lot of women would pay for a world-cla.s.s behind like that."

"I think you're just h.o.r.n.y."

"You've got me there. Doesn't mean I'm wrong, though."

"I want a couple of other things, too."

"That's fine." He moved to another section of the rack.

"You could sit on that chair over there. It's for aggrieved husbands and...friends." She pointed to a plush chair cleverly situated near some jewelry.

"Which I'm neither. I'm a highly s.e.xed almost-fiance. They help with the shopping."

"Is it possible for you to be more annoying?"

"Lara, darling, I haven't started yet." He selected a slinky thing in red. "Reminds me of your suit that first day."

"It's nothing like it," she protested.

"I want to see it on you."

She glowered but accepted the garment. Then she went to a rack and picked out something that looked like it would hit her below the knee. It was a putrid light brown. "My future wife is not wearing puce."

"It's taupe."

He said nothing.

With a sigh, she returned it and pulled out a purple dress that was more than adequate for the office. It was sleeveless and had a square neckline. In short it was cla.s.sy and elegant, her signature style. No doubt it was also figure flattering. "You can have that in addition to something else. That will be good for tomorrow's gathering with my family."

"I can't afford two new dresses," she protested.

"You don't need to."

"You're not buying my clothes."

"Then maybe you can arrange for some overtime at the office. Or just buy one."

The clerk who'd just finished ringing up a sale came over. "Can I start a dressing room for you?"

"Thank you." Lara gave the three outfits to the woman.

The clerk unlocked a wooden door, hung up the dresses, then said, "Let me know if I can do anything to help."

After Lara promised to do so, the clerk wandered off to greet a new customer.

"Go ahead and try them on," he encouraged. Unless you want to buy new shoes as well, the black is probably the best choice." Those red heels with that dress? He wondered if he'd survive it. "And we do have reservations."

She entered the dressing room and closed the door. Since it didn't go all the way to the floor, he saw her place her purse on the carpet. Next he heard the sound of her pulling off her dress. He gave her about sixty seconds before saying, "Show me."

A few seconds later, she did. She'd put on the purple dress. As always, she knew exactly what was right for her. "Elegant." He'd be so d.a.m.n proud to have her at his side as his bride and partner.

She surveyed herself critically in the mirror, smoothing out an imaginary wrinkle. "I love it," she said.

A few minutes later, she returned wearing the red dress. "I don't like it," she said.