Controlled Response

Alarmed, she tried, discreetly, and found he was correct. "Let me go," she said between her teeth, in a whisper.

"No. I want you restrained, your legs open so you'll feel the stimulation that much more intensely. Don't worry. If someone asks you something and you need to move, I can release you instantly. And so you're not focused on that ..."

No. She knew he was going to do it, but still, she wasn't ready for the sensual ripple over her clit, the tickling featherlike sensation along her anal rim that made her want to squirm.

"You're beautiful, Cassie." That voice continued, soothing but ruthless as he'd promised, teasing her mind. "Sitting there, so straight and elegant in your corset, your hands on the arms of the chair like a queen. You've got a light flush on your neck and cheeks from your irritation with me, your nervousness, but also from the stimulation between your legs, the feel of the panty stroking your pussy. Do you wish it was my tongue? I do. If I get you alone today, I'm going to hold you down and eat my fill, until you've come in my mouth. And then I'm going to put my cock in there, fill you deep and hard . . ."

She lifted helpless eyes to him. He had his head down, checking his notes, his lips barely moving. She needed to see his eyes, know that he was with her. Strange that she told him she wanted it to be just sex, but she needed the sense of connection.

He stilled. "Cass?"

Had she said his name? She stole a look down the table to where the other members of the team were busy with Matt. "Look at me," she whispered.

When he lifted his head, she wasn't sure what she was seeking, but she found it in the riveting focus on her face, his tautly held jaw.

"You're okay, Cassie. I'm here. I'm only going to bring you pleasure, I promise."

Glancing down, she pretended to look at her notes. "Why are you doing this?"

"Because you've had this fantasy. Of someone mastering you, of the possibility of being watched while you're pleasured."

"Fantasy and reality are two different things."

"I'm going to make the reality better than the fantasy."

She shifted, pretty certain he'd already accomplished that. Her movement resulted in a wave of sensations that gave her an irresistible compulsion to rock. As she swore softly, she saw the desire increase in his gaze.

"I want to take you to lunch after this. Lie you down on my bed afterward and make love to you for hours. When you're tired, you'll sleep in my arms. I'll feed you from my fingers."

"Stop it," she muttered. "What do the symbols on the bracelet mean?"

"What do you want them to mean?" When she didn't respond, he pressed on, the voice in her ear relentless, temptation itself. "Pretend, Cassie. Pretend that you don't have to worry about what happens when you walk away from here. Pretend like you have time to do whatever you want, with whomever you want. What do you want them to say?"

She wanted them to say things scribed by adolescents on beaded bracelets when feelings ran so close to the top, so hard, furious, and bright they burned out quickly, the bracelet cast away, forgotten. It was ironic, considering those feelings were felt far longer when one was older, deep enough to scar. By then fear and doubt made them impossible to say, restrained like her body in the corset.

Business precepts didn't necessarily translate to personal relationships. But both she and Lucas were in the business of knowing people, sizing them up. Apparently Lucas understood her well enough after no more than a day, plus one stolen episode in a forest, that he'd coaxed her into this, holding her on a taut line between mortification and mounting arousal. The world was full of fools. As she met his intent look, she knew she must be one of them, because she'd never wanted to put herself in someone's hands like this, believe in him.

"All right, let's get started." Matt dimmed the lights further, took his seat at the head of the table, and they initiated the conference. Above the one image, the top three screens shifted between individual members of the Japanese team as they spoke. She tried to balance the distraction of her straining body by identifying each and reviewing in her mind what she knew of them. The translator was a typical Asian beauty, elegant in a form-fitting pale green business suit, her obsidian eyes thickly lashed and sharp. Her long dark hair was bound in a heavy jeweled net, low on a slim neck.

As Ben ran down the points, the lawyer on the Japanese side began to respond, checking different facts as they went along. All standard due diligence for the paperwork they'd sign later today to put everything in forward drive. Ending this. On Wednesday, she'd be on to the next job, as would Lucas.

"Getting bored, Cass?" That soft whisper, and the vibration started to increase.

The Financials were up on the right wall screen for everyone's review. She managed to process a question Matt posed, then follow Ben's response. Jon and Peter were studying the numbers, Jon making some clarifying points regarding engineering impact. Her ringers were tight on the chair arms, she realized, her toes curling in her shoes as her thigh muscles grew taut. She couldn't close her legs, not with her ankles held by those slim cuffs. Thank goodness it was all below the table surface. She remembered the way Lucas had looked at her neck, as if he'd wished he could put an actual collar there, like these bracelets.

The "just sex" mantra was getting forced. Even as she told herself that was what they'd shared so far, the truth was he'd used sex to crack open a layer beneath. He'd taken their sexual interactions behind her battle lines into some deep emotional territory. Her current situation merely underscored it. This wasn't a quick spontaneous screw from a bar pickup.

It was absurd. She'd just met him. Of course, she knew that emotions weren't based on fact finding, data gathering. On whether a man preferred OJ or tomato juice in the morning. Hockey or baseball. If he left his socks on the floor or wanted to go camping on a holiday. She'd always wanted to do that. How would he feel about doing it with five kids?

Ah, Jesus. Just focus on this, Cass. Even if he cracked her like an egg, she'd have to settle for just sex. Great sex with a gorgeous man, maybe even a nice dinner, and she'd walk away. How could she complain about that?

"Looks like I'm going to have to work a little harder to keep your attention. Think we'll make this . . . adjustment."

The ripple changed to a sporadic undulating stroke. With her own moisture limning it, holy saints and angels, it felt remarkably like ...

"It feels like a tongue, doesn't it? Imagine it's my tongue, lapping up your juices, my fingers playing around your ass, making you wiggle and squirm on my face, rubbing yourself there. Your scent. You're trying not to rub your ass against the chair, trying not to rock, though you want to, so badly. You want to pretend it's me. Want it to be me."

She tossed back her hair, trying to look casual, indifferent, and of course, that jolt of motion sent a response rocketing through her clit, down her thighs, up the center of her body. The corset was so tight it made it more intense, increasing the aching pressure in her stomach, her chest. Maybe it was good he'd spread her legs like this, for if her thighs were closed, the urge to squeeze them together, bring herself to climax, would be nigh unbearable.

The toss had become a fractious roll of her head onto her shoulders as a result of the wave of stimulation. At Matt s glance, she forced herself to make it look as if she were just stretching a stiff neck, even as her hands held their death clamp. She was going to lose. She was going to have to tell him to stop. But it felt so damn good, she didn't want to stop . . .

Focus. Her lips parted to give her more air. When had her senses sharpened so significantly? She could feel the moisture of her own lips from the cream lipstick she wore, the gloss over it. With a corset, the faintest breath pillowed breasts high on the chest, left them perched quivering there like soft doves, aching for a stroking touch to soothe them. She could feel the air on them, the touch of every molecule, it seemed.

Then, between her buttocks . . . she'd never been much for anal play, but maybe that was because she didn't know it could feel like this.

"Liking the way that feels between your cheeks, Cass? Wait until the first time I put my mouth on your rim, tease it with my tongue. You might be shy about that, but you'll come apart when it's done to you. I want to see you shatter. Look at Saayo, the translator, now.

How beautiful she is. Like you."

Did he have a damn implant in her mind? As the legal advisor's drone died away into complete gibberish, Cass realized Saayos posture seemed like her own. But while her arms were beneath the level of the table like Cass's, they were not on the chair arms. Her limbs were making slight movements as her lips, a shiny burgundy which complemented the flawless Asian skin, pressed together in arousal, obvious to someone who was a mirror image of it. A quick glance at the other screens showed the Japanese men were all adjusted toward Saayo, serious faces intent.

No, it couldn't. . . she knew the men in this frame. She'd researched them last night. Part of a cartel who managed K&A's distribution over there, a group of dedicated men known to become suitably aggressive when needed to get shipments out of some of the more questionable ports of call. But reputable men.

"They have one camera positioned beneath the table. You'll notice their gazes keep moving from her to a wall beyond our view. They have a screen there, showing that cameras feed. They've provided me the patch to it in here. She shaves her pussy, and she's got a clit piercing. Her fingers are buried in herself. They have a little bet running with her as well. If she doesn't come before the advisor gets done, then they'll each have their turn, fucking her on the table when the meeting is done."

"You set this up," she managed under her breath as Ben asked a question.

"Everyone knows the regulatory check is as dull as dirt. I thought you'd enjoy the entertainment."

"Does Matt know what they're doing?" She said it in a whisper, not even sure if she'd spoken loud enough for him to hear her. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">