He cleared his throat, trying to find his voice. “Coffee sounds fantastic.”
She set his mug down and straightened, giving him the full view of her outfit. She hadn’t worked at the Sugarcane again after the day with Howie Miller, but apparently she’d kept the outfit he’d fantasized about one too many times. But instead of tennis shoes, she was wearing the highest, sexiest white leather boots he’d ever seen. And her long blonde hair was in that ponytail he loved so much. All his blood rushed straight south, and any remnants of exhaustion drained right out of him.
“Working too hard, I see,” she said, a mischievous smile touching her glossed lips.
“No. I believe I’m sleeping . . . and dreaming.”
She placed her palms flat on the desk and brushed her lips against his. “Not asleep.”
He slid a hand along her waist and pulled her down until she was straddling his lap. “This outfit always drove me crazy. I defiled every part of it in my fantasies while I was sitting in that booth.”
“You’re a naughty man, Wyatt Austin,” Kelsey said, bending down and kissing him. “And a hard one.”
She wiggled her ass against him, drawing a shudder from him. “Hey, hot girl on lap. What else am I supposed to do?”
She smiled and undulated her hips, dragging her body along the length of his shaft and sending darts of fuck yeah through all his good parts.
“Definitely not sleeping” he said, groaning as his erection swelled to full force. He slid his hand beneath her panties and brushed her smooth, damp skin. “You’re good at this lap stuff, love.”
She smirked. “No shit. I used to get paid for it and everything. Though, I would’ve cut off a guy’s balls if he tried to do what you’re doing right now.”
He ran the pad of his thumb over her slippery nub, and her eyelids went half-mast. “I would’ve stolen you off that stage, would’ve never let any man you didn’t want near you looking at you that way, touching you. I’m jealous that any of those scumbags got to see you like this.”
“Never like this, sir. Let me show you what I never showed them,” she said, leaning down to nip at his bottom lip. “I’m asking permission to take a little bit of control tonight.”
His eyebrows crept upward. She’d never shown any inclination to dominate him in all these months. Though, he had set up a few scenes at The Ranch where he’d watched her dominate a male sub then fucked her while the other guy enjoyed the view. He knew that Kelsey wasn’t a full switch, but dominance did feed something inside her and he didn’t want to deny her that. Plus, he found it impossibly hot watching her manage someone else, knowing that at the end of it all, she’d kneel down and give up all that power to him.
He wasn’t sure he was capable of playing submissive even for a little while. But for her, he’d give anything a try. “What’d you have in mind, love?”
She slid off his lap and went to his laptop. She pulled her iPod from her pocket and plugged it in. She turned to him and smiled, her fingers teasing at the top button on her blouse. “So I couldn’t find my cheerleader outfit to fulfill your exact high school fantasy, but I hope this will fit the bill.”
“Oh, love, nothing’s hotter than you in this little waitress getup.”
“Good.” She let the first button slide through. “Then let me dance for you.”
His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth at the thought. Knowing Kelsey had stripped for a living put a pit in his stomach. He hated that she’d had to sell herself like that. But he’d be a lying bastard if he said he hadn’t thought about how fucking sexy she must’ve looked up there on that stage. How it must’ve felt to be one of those guys she turned her pretty blue eyes on.
“Baby, you don’t have to—I know—” Logical speech alluded him.
Her lips curled in a slow, knowing smile. “You can’t even talk you’re so turned on.”
He tilted his head back against his chair. “I’m a dirty, perverted excuse for a boyfriend.”
“Exactly how I like you.” She moved forward, sauntering on those heels like she was in flats, and moved his plate and coffee to the credenza on the far side of the office. Then she stepped back in front of his desk, her eyes meeting his. “You’re not allowed to touch me. Yet. But you have permission to touch yourself if the spirit moves you.”
He rubbed his lips together. “Yes, ma’am.”
She turned back to his laptop and hit a button.
“Dirty! Rotten! Filthy! Stinkin’!” A loud drumbeat filled the wireless speakers around the room.
Wyatt stared at her then burst out laughing. “Tell me you didn’t.”
She grinned as the grinding guitar of Warrant’s “Cherry Pie” started. “Hey, I wanted this to be authentic. This song was big the years you were in high school. God, you’re old by the way.”
He gave her leg a little smack and she laughed.
“Plus . . .” She shoved the computer aside and put a booted foot on top of the desk, hoisting herself up with ease. “It’s a song about pastry. How could I resist?”
Wyatt shook his head, staring up in awe. Gorgeous and a wicked sense of humor. “I’m the luckiest fucker alive.”
“You are.” She put the toe of her boot in the center of his chest and pushed, sending his chair rolling backward so that he had the best view possible, then she met his gaze head-on—no shame, no closing her eyes and pretending she was somewhere else—and began to move to the beat.Her fingers flicked open the next button of her blouse, but Wyatt couldn’t pull away from her eyes. He was transfixed by what he saw there. Despite the tongue-and-cheek song and the playful outfit, this was more than a little sexy fun. This was her gift to him. She was showing him what those other guys had never seen, what she’d never given any other man—her trust, her heart, the soul of the girl behind the seductress.
She was beautiful.
And whole.
Strong.
She slipped her shirt off her shoulders and snaked her way down to eye level with him, dropping the blouse around his neck. The scent of her perfume surrounded him—perfume and maybe the faintest hint of maple syrup forever trapped in the uniform. He inhaled deeply and smiled. Then she was working her way back upward again, turning her back to him and dancing in fluid motion as she peeked coyly at him over her shoulder and released the front hook of her bra. The lacy bit of material dropped off her shoulders, hitting the desk. She cupped her breasts, still hidden from his view, and tipped her head back as she let out a little mmm.
“You’re so fucking sexy, love,” he said, his fingers flexing. “It’s killing me not to touch you.”
She spun slowly around again, giving him the full sight of her teasing her nipples until they were flushed and hard in the golden lamplight of the room. To keep himself from reaching out for her, he unbuttoned his slacks and took his cock in his hand, giving it a slow stroke. She smiled down at him and ran the tip of her tongue over her bottom lip.
“Tease,” he said, smirking.
“Oh, no, for you, I always deliver on my promises,” she said, lifting up her skirt and giving him a peek at the skimpy lace thong she wore beneath.
“Take them off,” he whispered, his words gruff.
“Can’t resist giving commands, huh?”
She stepped to the side of the desk closest to him, putting him near eye level with the apex of her thighs, then hooked her fingers in the sides of her panties. He barely resisted begging. Maybe he could have a submissive moment. She rolled her hips and dragged the wisp of lace down her legs. Her sweet, sexy scent hit him, sending his head spinning and his patience waning. God, he needed to touch her, taste her.
Kelsey kicked off the panties, then lowered herself down and climbed off the desk. She stood before him in only that little skirt and those fuck-me boots. “I think you’ve earned a lap dance, sir.”
“I tip well.”
With a smile of illicit promise, she trailed her hands up his legs and brought her breasts right in front of his mouth, dancing and teasing him with every beat of the music. He moved his hand away from his cock and let the edges of her skirt brush his length with each sway of her hips. He was lost in her, absolutely fucking lost. The house could burn down around them and there was no way he was leaving this spot.
Kelsey braced her hands on his thighs and with a wicked spark in her eyes, worked her way down between his knees. A few strands of her ponytail danced over his crotch, heaven marking a path over his skin. All semblance of self-control left him. He grabbed a fistful of her ponytail, and she gasped.
“On your knees, love,” he said, his voice hoarse with need.
She complied without protest, her body sinking down to the floor. “Yes, sir.”
He took her hair in his fist and wound her long ponytail around his cock, the golden strands like spun silk against him. He groaned at the sight he’d imagined so many times. She kept her head bowed, letting him use her however he wished, and put her hand over his, helping him with the first silken stroke. The nape of her neck was bared to him as their hands moved in tandem, sliding her soft locks against him. He stared at that expanse of skin, an ache digging into his chest.
She gripped his knee, still covered by his slacks, and the sight of her bare left ring finger only deepened the pang. But he had to be patient with her. He didn’t want to overwhelm her with how sure he was in his love for her, how far he saw it stretched out before them. He reached out with his free hand and traced a line over her neck. “I want to collar you, Kelsey.”
Her hand stilled against him and he let her ponytail slide through his fingers, then lifted her face to him. Her cheeks were flushed with desire, but her eyes were wide and clear. “I have a collar, sir.”
“Yes, a generic one I bought before I really knew you. I want you to wear my collar. I want a ceremony.”
Without hesitation or any of the fears he worried would come to the surface again, she brought his hand to her mouth, kissing his palm. “There’s nothing I want more than to be yours, Wyatt.”
His entire body swelled with emotion.
“God, say that again, love.” She did and he pulled her onto his lap, taking her mouth in a heated kiss and sliding inside her.
* * *
Wyatt stole Kelsey’s thoughts with the kiss, and everything inside her tightened and quivered as he thrust into her. She moaned into his mouth, the sheer bliss of having him filling her, claiming her, was a sensation that never got old. He’d been an epic fail in the sub role, but that had only turned her on more. She loved that intensity that overtook him when he couldn’t hold back the need to dominate her.
And now he wanted to collar her. For real. She knew he’d held back from putting any pressures on their relationship because he didn’t want to freak her out. But the thought of being tied to him in that way no longer put terror in her heart. Love was a risk. Happiness was never a guarantee. But like he’d said that night at the prom, they were a good bet.
For the first time in her life, she was a good bet.
And she was ready to jump without a parachute.
He pulled back from the kiss and took her nipple in his mouth, sucking and biting and sending rapid, rolling pleasure through her. She gripped his shoulders hard, riding him and the sensation of it all even as heavy words formed on her lips. He pressed his fingers against her clit, stroking and teasing with each rock of her hips. Her nails dug into his skin.
“You want to come, love?” he asked, kissing and nibbling her neck.
“I want to get married.”
Everything halted. Wyatt lifted his head, his eyes shocked behind his glasses. “What?”
Panic gripped her. Shit. Shit. Shit. Maybe she’d read his signs wrong. Maybe she was assuming things she shouldn’t. “I mean—”