Author: Roni Loren
Grant’s brow wrinkled. “Meaning you only liked it four times? Or you only came four times?”
“Both. My mind doesn’t stop racing. I get distracted at the littlest thing. The room’s too cold. His cologne is too strong. Why is he making that face? Does he seriously think that is going to work? Am I doing this right? Does he realize having SportsCenter on in the background is only going to derail me?”
Grant’s dimple appeared.
“Stop, I’m serious. It’s a problem,” she protested, unable to fight her own smile, feeling some weird relief at saying all of it out loud. “I have issues. Clearly.”
“Maybe, maybe not.” He leaned closer, his voice like a coaxing caress. “Tell me. When you touch yourself, can you come?”
She glanced over at the other tables, praying no one was listening to the conversation. How could this man turn her palms sweaty and her skin hot in one quick second? Never in her life had anyone asked her about something so personal. “Uh, sometimes. If I can stay focused on…you know, whatever fantasy I’m conjuring up.”
“Then maybe it was the guys who had the issue, not you,” he said simply. “You didn’t seem to have a problem focusing the other day.”
“Your humility is truly inspiring,” she said with mock reverence.
He shrugged as if to say—take it or leave it. “Why do you think it was easier for you to enjoy it with me?”
“I don’t know. I felt…” Overtaken. Desired. Special. All things that seemed to be running themes in those private fantasies she weaved late at night. She met his eyes. “I felt like I was able to be someone else. To take a break from everything I’ve always been, how people always see me.”
“Is who you are so bad?”
“No,” she said, turning the question over in her head. “But I’m the girl guys like to go out drinking with to watch a game. I’m the chick they tell about their wild sexual escapades. Not the one they actually want to have the escapades with. And sometimes it sucks to know that men are so comfortable around you, they don’t even see you as a girl anymore.”
“Did I mention yet that the guys you’re hanging out with must be complete morons?”
The corner of her mouth hitched up. “But that’s the thing. With you, I don’t feel like that. I feel like you see me, the woman.”
“How could I not?” His gaze stroked her face, then traced down her neck to her cleavage and back up. Everywhere his attention landed prickled with awareness.
“So maybe…maybe I want to get lost in that feeling for a little while.” She swallowed hard but kept going, needing to get it all out there. “I know I can run circles around most of the guys at work. But I looked at my audition tape again, and I can see what they’re seeing. It’s like even when I’m not trying, I come across as if I’m daring someone to pick a fight with me. I’m tired of always being in battle mode, always being on guard.” She lifted her head, her resolve crystallizing. “When you took control the other day, for the first time ever, I didn’t want to fight anymore.”
The blue in his eyes seemed to darken, and the scant slice of air between them charged with an energy that hadn’t existed a few moments before. He laid his hand palm-up on the table. “Take my hand.”
With only the slightest of hesitations, she obeyed.
He curled his fingers around hers, the grip possessive. “From this point on, here on the grounds you will go by your given name, Charlotte. When I call you that, you are mine.” His thumb caressed the backside of her hand. “My beautiful, obedient submissive.”
Beautiful. Sure.
“You’re not allowed to smirk at that, Charlotte. Every straight man in this room turned his head when you walked into the restaurant,” he said, his accent getting thicker the more displeased he was. “And I damn near skipped dinner because I didn’t know if I’d be able to spend an hour not touching you.”
She blinked, a bit stunned by his swift reaction and apparent anger.
“Do you think I’m a stupid man, like those silly boys you surround yourself with? Someone who doesn’t know what beautiful looks like?”
“What? No, I—” she said, stumbling over her words.
“Then don’t insult me by discounting my compliments.” His hold on her hand grew tighter. “Tell me you’re beautiful.”
She cringed and looked down. “Grant—er—sir, please.”
“Say it, Charli.”
She closed her eyes, her fight-or-flight response screaming at her. Why was this so hard? She didn’t think she was horrible-looking. But memories assailed her—her mother standing her and her sister next to each other when her mom was still trying to get them both into pageants and modeling—comparing, contrasting, Charli never getting anything quite right. Wasn’t her torso still a little too long, her smile too tilted, her figure too boyish?
She took a deep breath, trying to focus on the here and now. She wasn’t that awkward kid anymore. Plus, Grant wasn’t going to let this go. She managed to open her eyes and say, “I’m beautiful.”
His eyes softened as he reached out and cupped her cheek. “Good girl. Now we have to work on getting you to believe it.”
She rolled her shoulders, trying to release some of the tension that had gathered there. “I have a feeling you can be mighty convincing.”
“There’re a few terrorists in federal prison who would agree with you on that.” He gave her a wry smile as he reached for his wallet and tossed a healthy tip on the table. “Come on, freckles.”
He stood and held out a hand to her. She took it and let him guide her on the step down, this time very aware of keeping her dress in place. “Where are we going?”
Before she could take another step, he dragged her against him, his hot body pressing against hers in all the right places. His breath was warm against her ear. “It’s been a real long while since I’ve acted like a true member here. I think it’s time to fix that.”
“Oh,” she said, the word coming out in a gasp.
“You ready for that?” He skated his palm along her side. Then, in full view of the other diners, he slid his hand beneath the hem of her dress and up the curve of her outer thigh.
“Grant,” she whispered urgently, trying to scoot away.
“Hush.” He held her in place and his fingers found the waistband of her panty hose. He tugged. The pliable nylon gave easily, and despite her shocked intake of breath, he drew it down and over her hips, not stopping until he crouched in front of her and slid them completely off her legs.
She glanced around at the other people in the restaurant—almost all were now looking their way. Her cheeks burned and cool air drifted up her skirt, teasing her newly waxed skin.
Grant balled up the panty hose, rose, and tucked them in his suit pocket. He cupped her ass through the dress and molded her against him. “When you’re with me, I don’t want anything blocking my touch. No panty hose, no underwear. I don’t even want your clothes in the way. Skirts, dresses, and lingerie only. Everything else is banned.”
Normally, she would’ve protested, questioned. No underwear? No jeans? But the way his erection was dragging the soft material of her dress against her most sensitive spot was completely fragmenting her thoughts. She shuddered against him.
He pressed his nose into her hair. “That excites you, sweet Charlotte? Knowing that whenever I want you, wherever we may be, all I need to do is shove your skirt up and take you?”
Charlotte. Just hearing the name she’d never used sliding off his honeyed baritone helped her fall more deeply under his spell. And his words did excite her, more than she wanted to admit. She liked the idea that there could be times he wouldn’t be able to resist her. That he’d have to have her right then and there. “Yes, sir.”
“That’s my girl.” His fingertips caressed the bottom curve of her ass. “There’s no room for shame or self-consciousness when you’re with me. Let all of that go.”
Just being this close to him had her body instinctively loosening, her muscles unwinding. Something about the combination of his easy touch, his illicit words, and that intoxicating masculine scent of his had her mind calming, her will quieting. What would it be like to do what he asked? To really let him take over?
No one knew her here. This was only temporary. Maybe she could slip into this foreign role for a little while—that of the yielding, cherished submissive. She’d never had a man look at her the way Grant was right now. Like there was no other woman who could possibly compete.
It was potent and erotic and so damn alluring.
Grant bent his head and brushed his lips against her jaw—a promise of kisses to come. “You ready, freckles?”
She wound her arms around his waist and pressed her forehead against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat, feeling wanted. “I’m all yours.”
And that was that. Before they stepped out of the restaurant, she’d done the impossible. She’d surrendered.
THIRTEEN
Grant wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with Charli first. It’d been so long since he’d indulged in The Ranch’s accommodations, and he’d never taken on someone who wasn’t already part of the scene. Well, not since his wife. When he’d been with Rachel, he hadn’t known such a lifestyle existed. They’d been young and had still been figuring out the basics of vanilla sex. Kink hadn’t even hit their radar.
An edge of anxiety curled in his stomach at the thought of Rachel, but he shoved it to the back of his brain where he stored the bad shit. He wasn’t going to ruin this night.
He couldn’t decide if he should ease Charli in or drag her into the deep end with him. He didn’t want to scare her or freak her out. But her tendency to overthink things and her penchant for thrill seeking made him wonder if going whole hog would actually be best. And hell, she hadn’t checked one damn thing on her hard limits list, so he had no idea if she was simply unsure of her limits or if she was craving someone to push her. He’d need to try a few things and gauge her reaction before knowing the best path to lead her down. All he knew was that if she needed to be reminded how much of a woman she was, he was happy to make that happen.
He peeked over at her as they walked down the quiet hallway that led from the restaurant to the play areas. She gave him a wavering smile, and he squeezed her hand. “What’s on your mind, freckles?”
“What’s not on my mind?” she replied. “I’m going through a hundred scenarios of what may happen tonight. All those things in that contract, I…it’s overwhelming. I have no idea what I’m doing.”
He slowed his step and stopped, tugging her arm gently to square her to him. “Look at me, Charlotte.”
Her shoulders rose and fell with a heavy breath, but she tilted her face toward him and met his gaze.
He pulled the leather collar from his suit’s inside pocket and wound it around her neck, her pulse thumping against the delicate skin of her throat as he snapped the lock.
Seeing the simple strip of leather had his own heartbeat picking up speed. He cupped her face with his palms. “Now you’re mine. All you need to do is focus on what I tell you. Try not to think when I give you a command, just do. I’m not here to embarrass or humiliate you. That’s not my kink. I do enjoy giving some pain, but I gave you words to use if that is ever too much.” He brushed his thumbs across her cheeks. “Anything I do with you or to you has a purpose and is for our mutual benefit. It may not always be clear how, but you’re going to have to trust that I have a good reason.”
She nodded, her shoulders straightening despite the obvious shadow of worry in her eyes. “Yes, Grant. I mean, sir.”