Love Ignited (Hollywood Series Book 2) Page 8

  “Get a hold of yourself!” I yelled at my reflection. I was behaving like I had never wanted a man before. But he wasn’t just any man. He was a patient. I hadn’t ever wanted a patient before.

  I could turn this around. I could make it right. I had to try.

  He was in my office when I walked in. He stood as I entered. I looked anywhere but at him as I made my way to my desk. He stepped in front of me taking me by the waist. It was startling, and I jumped. He frowned but didn’t let go.

  “Why are you afraid?”

  “I’m not. I just wasn’t expecting—”

  “You should trust me.”

  “You’ve done nothing to earn my trust. You’ve manipulated me. You’ve humiliated me, and you’ve put me in danger of losing my license.”

  “How have I done any of those things? What did I gain by touching you? I didn’t get anything, so that isn’t manipulation.”

  “You got off on it!”

  “I did, but not in front of you.” He smiled.

  “You’re disgusting.”

  “Am I? I think you like the idea of my getting off on touching you. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have let me do it.” I was furious, but not as much with him as I was with myself, because what he was saying wasn’t entirely untrue. “As far as humiliating you, I told you not to be ashamed. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  “This is completely unprofessional. I could lose my license for this, Nathan. That’s something to be ashamed of.”

  “How? Who will ever know?”

  “I know! Me!” I sounded like a frantic lunatic.

  “You’re making this more difficult than it has to be. Stop thinking like a therapist for one second and just admit to yourself that you want this, Ella.”

  “Stop calling me that! You aren’t my boyfriend. You’re my patient. Do you get that?”

  “I never asked to be your boyfriend. I never asked to make love to you. I never asked you to touch me. I asked you to let me help you understand me, so you can help me. You said you wanted to help me.”

  “See? That right there is manipulation. You are playing off my need to help you.”

  “What am I playing for, though? Your help? That’s what we both want. You want to help me, and I want your help, just like you want me to touch you, and I want to touch you. It’s really that simple.”

  I let my gaze drop to the floor. “Why are you doing this?”

  “I just told you. I need your help.”

  “You wouldn’t be doing this if I were a man.”

  “No,” he said unabashedly, “I wouldn’t.”

  I pushed his hands from my waist. “I need more information.”

  He sat on the couch. “What do you want to know?”

  “If I play this game with you, will it help you to have healthier relationships?”

  “I’m happy with the relationships I’ve had.”

  “Then what will this accomplish?”

  “I need to,” he paused, “I hate the part of me that, at times, makes me so emotional that I allow myself to be dominated. I need to get past that. If I don’t, I won’t stop using drugs.”

  “Why do you hate being dominated, yet you enjoy dominating? I don’t understand. That makes you a hypocrite.”

  “Because when I’m being dominated, I’m doing it for the wrong reasons. I don’t find pleasure in it. It hurts.”

  “I thought that was the point.”

  “No.” He shook his head. “Some find pleasure in pain. I don’t. I never have, not even with my first partner. That’s why I switched roles after her. I never let anyone dominate me again until after…”

  “After your sister,” I said. He nodded with a grimace. “Why?”

  “Because it makes me feel temporary vindication or something.”

  “You feel like you should be punished for leaving her?” He nodded again. “Nathan, it’s not your fault. You shouldn’t feel like—”

  “Doc, you can say that over and over. It doesn’t change the way I feel.”

  “Then I really don’t know what I can do to help. If you refuse to stop using, that’s your choice. I can’t force you.”

  “Do you give up so easily on everyone?”

  The words felt like a slap. “I’ve never given up on anyone.”

  “Then don’t give up on me.” His eyes were vulnerable, almost begging.

  “No one else has ever asked me to participate in sex games as a part of their treatment, Nathan.”

  “I’m not asking you to do anything you don’t want to do. I need you to understand the way I feel. I pointlessly tried to explain my need to you yesterday. Words aren’t going to suffice. If you didn’t want me, I wouldn’t even try this, but you do want me, and I want you. It makes this quite simple. Let me show you.”

  I debated on his words. I did want him. And I did want to help him. If I could have both… “Do you want to hurt me?”

  “Yes,” he said hungrily. “But not the way you think. I want to show you how pleasurable sex can really be by pushing you to your limits.”

  “I don’t want that.”

  “Did I hurt you yesterday?”

  “Well, no, but…”

  “Did you like my tongue on your skin?” I felt the familiar jolt of warmth. “Did you go home and touch yourself?”

  “No,” I said quickly.

  He smiled. “Good. I wouldn’t want to miss it when you come.”

  I gave in. I was in too deep. He was in my head, and I liked it. I wanted him in my bed. “What if you do something that I don’t like?”

  His smile widened. He knew he had me. “That’s what safe words are for. Choose a safe word, Elena.”

  “You can’t call me that. I won’t have it. You can call me Ella, but not Elena. All right?”

  He considered me. “Fine, Ella. Safe word?”

  “Pink,” I said the first word that came to mind.

  He stood up and came toward me, then dropped to his knees in front of me, pushing my knees apart. I couldn’t help relishing the feel of his touch. “Like your pink pussy? Your supple pink nipples? No, pink is too common. Choose something else.”

  “Red?”

  He grimaced. “No.”

  “Why?”

  “Because red is my safe word. Besides, I have a feeling that your ass will be red when I’m done with you. You’re so defiant.”

  Fear shot through me with the thought of him spanking me. “I can’t do this,” I said, standing up.

  He took the opportunity to push up my skirt and trace my panty line with his finger. “Are you sure?”

  “I thought you said you could make me come without going down on me,” I said nervously, trying to trip him up.

  “I will.”

  I closed my eyes, thought about everything I had to lose by playing this dangerous game. Then I looked at this gorgeous, broken man at my feet. I had a lot to gain, too, and so did he.

  I grabbed his chin to make him look at me. He looked startled by my touch. “What if I want you to touch me?”

  He pushed my hand from his face. “You’ll take what I give you and thank me for it.” His words brought butterflies to life in my stomach.

  “What if I want to make love?”

  “I’m sorry. I can’t give you that.” He got to his feet. I let my head fall, but he dipped down to meet my eyes, “But, I can give you just about anything else.”

  I was so turned on I could hardly think straight. “Okay,” I whispered. I wanted an orgasm at his hand. I wanted it to belong to him.

  He smiled. “Safety first, Elena.”

  “Beetlejuice,” I said the first word that came to mind. He let a laugh escape before he put his serious face back on.

  “That works.” He moved so fast I didn’t even realize what was happening. He lifted me on my desk and ripped my blouse open, sending buttons flying all over the place. “Don’t say it unless you mean it. If you say it, I will stop what I’m doing immediately, but it’s not something to be tak
en lightly. I’ve never had anyone use a safe word.”

  “Never?”

  “Never,” he reiterated. “This is about trust. You have to trust me for me to be able to please you. I know you have it in your mind that you don’t know me well enough to trust me. But you have to trust that I won’t hurt you.”

  I leaned back on my hands, thinking maybe he would go down on me despite what he’d said. It took everything I had not to reach out and touch him.

  “Are you going to…?” I couldn’t quite make myself ask if he would make me come. It felt shameless.

  “Make you come?” I nodded. “Yes.” He grabbed my legs and jerked me across my desk, pulling me against his erection. Even though he was fully clothed and I was wearing underwear, I moaned from the much-needed friction. He actually looked a bit surprised that he’d done it. “That was a gift. Don’t get used to it,” he said, lifting me from my desk and laying me on the sofa.

  “Put your arms above your head and don’t bring them down until I tell you to.” I did as he asked. “Open your legs. I don’t want you to be able to rub them together. I want to make you come.”

  I almost thought I would get off from the way he was talking to me. I’d never been spoken to that way. “Did you like what I did to you yesterday?”

  “Yes, but I was sore this morning,” I told him.

  “And did that remind you of me?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good.” He smiled, taking my nipple into his mouth. I pressed up into him for more. He licked at me softly, then began rubbing my panty line again. He traced the edge, never going beyond the outer limits to where I ached for him.

  What he was doing didn’t seem spectacular in the slightest, but it was. It was the anticipation. What would he do next? How would it feel? And his confidence. It was sexy; he was so sexy.

  He wasn’t being rough at all. I wondered how this was different from normal foreplay. Then he began to nibble his way around my breast. It wasn’t painful though. He touched everywhere but the tip, everywhere but the part that was tingling to be touched.

  “Do you want me to…”

  “Yes,” I said before I even knew what he was asking.

  Suddenly, he dragged his teeth across my taut nipple. It sent a jolt directly to my center. My hand landed on his head to ask for more.

  He looked up at me sharply. “Put your hands up.”

  “I didn’t mean to. That felt good, and I want more.” He was moving too slowly.

  “I know, and I know you do. Put your hands back up.”

  I did as I was told, but when he performed that little move again, I moaned and both hands came down to his head. This time, I actually pushed his head down shamelessly.

  “I said put them up. I was trying to make this purely pleasurable, but if you insist on being naughty, then—” He shrugged. “Roll over.”

  “What?”

  “Roll. Over.”

  “But…” I felt that surge of panic, but I reconciled that I was in a safe place. I was in my office. I had people nearby, not that I thought Nathan would hurt me, but if he did, I could escape at any moment.

  He lifted me like a ragdoll and laid me on my stomach. He pulled down my panties, and I felt both thrilled and scared. The next thing I felt was his hand rubbing circles on my ass. It felt neither good nor bad; it just made me feel exposed.

  “A lot of Doms go soft over time. They become complacent and forget their purpose. You don’t ever have to worry about that with me,” he said as his hand connected with my ass.

  “I don’t like this,” I said, holding back tears. Not because it hurt; I just didn’t like how small it made me feel.

  “You will,” he answered, spreading my ass cheeks wide with his hands. I almost yelped. He was looking at my ass… There was nothing sexy about that. I felt his finger touch me there, sending sparks of pleasure through my body. I was surprised at how good it felt. I’d never been touched there.

  Before I knew it, I was pushing back into him. He reached beneath me and tapped at my nipple with his free hand as he assaulted my ass with the other. I was whimpering, trying not to scream out when I came apart.

  Before I could even come down, he was pulling my panties back up over my bottom and rolling me over onto my back.

  Even though I was mostly covered, I felt exposed in my post-orgasmic state. I felt remorseful.

  He looked in my eyes and drew his brows together. “You enjoyed that, didn’t you?”

  “Yes,” I whispered.

  He touched my hair gently, the way a lover would, then leaned down and kissed my forehead. “Why do you insist on punishing yourself for doing something you like?”

  “Why do you?”

  He frowned briefly before wiping his face clear of emotion. I reached for the bulge in his jeans, but he slid away.

  “Don’t you want to…?” I asked.

  “Come? I will,” he said matter-of-factly. “Just not today.”

  “Not at all today?” I asked, surprised. “You won’t, you know, get yourself off when you get back to your room?”

  “No.”

  “Why? You aren’t turned on?”

  “Do you know how much restraint it took for me not to taste you? To not even look at your pussy?” I felt my brow furrow with confusion. “I can show restraint. Can you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “You did very well for your first time, but can you keep from touching yourself when you’re alone?”

  “I don’t—” I said.

  “Yes, you do. Don’t try to lie to me anymore. You aren’t good at it.” He stood, straightening his shirt. “Will you refrain?”

  I nodded, blushing all over.

  “Good. Then I will too. Next time, I want to watch your face when you orgasm. Don’t make me miss it again.”

  I nervously pressed my lips together, licking them as I pulled my torn blouse together. His eyes widened, and he stared at me for a beat. He reached down and took my chin. “Don’t do that thing with your lips.”

  “Seriously?” I said, a little aggravated with his demanding tone.

  “Yes. Don’t do it.”

  I sat up and looked down at my blouse, wondering what I would wear back to my house.

  “Would you like my shirt?”

  “Yeah, right,” I said. “I doubt the staff would think too much of that.”

  He nodded. “Are you satisfied?”

  I considered saying yes, but since he’d told me I was a shitty liar, I decided to be honest. “Not really.”

  He smiled. “Good girl.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him. “I don’t like that ‘good girl’ bit. I’m not a ‘girl.’ I’m a woman.”

  “And she’s back,” he said with an eye roll. “Your switch flips faster than mine, Ella.”

  “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “Yes, you do. You’re putty in my hands one minute, the next you want to play therapist. We’ll see how that works out for you later.”

  “I’m only doing this because I’m your therapist.”

  “Yeah, okay.” He laughed.

  “And what do you mean later?”

  “I’ve decided not to wait until tomorrow. I saw you coming and going while I was working in the stables. I know you live in that house on the other side of the orchard. I will be at your house tonight around nine to continue.”

  “No, you won’t,” I said quickly. He looked angry. “I’m sorry, but that’s not up for debate. Seriously, Nathan, no.”

  “If you are going to try to control this, then we may as well stop now. I can’t show you what it is to be a Dominant and let you dominate.”

  “I don’t want to stop.” Even I was surprised at how quickly I made that decision. “But I can’t have you at the house.”

  “Why? The staff will be asleep. No one will know.”

  “I just can’t, okay?” I said, dropping my gaze to the floor. “I can’t.”

  “Okay,” he said, pulling me into his a
rms as if he knew I needed to be held. He pressed his lips to the top of my head in a move so tender that I wondered if he really did want to be my boyfriend.

  “I’m not sure it’s such a good idea for us to continue this in my office either,” I said.

  “We will. And you’ll meet me tonight at the stable as well.” He kissed my head again and walked out.

  I pulled my shirt together and sat behind my desk. My eyes closed of their own volition. The bigger, more rational, part of me couldn’t believe I had agreed to this, but the part that I rarely listen to said it felt too good to pass up. I didn’t like being told what to do or being spanked, but I liked the holding afterward.

  There was something about this man. I had a need to help him and to feel him. When he touched me, it ignited something within me that I’d never felt before. I wanted more.

  “Mrs. Faulkner,” I called from my intercom, “I’ve torn my blouse. Could you hang another on my doorknob?”

  “Sure, give me a few minutes.” A few minutes later she knocked and peeked her head in the door, holding out the blouse. “Here you go.”

  I slumped down in my chair, trying to hide the fact that my blouse was actually torn all the way open. “Just hang it on the door, thank you.” She did as I asked and left.

  As I was walking out, she caught me at the bottom of the stairs. “Would you like me to see about repairing the tear in your blouse?”

  “Oh no, it’s ruined. I ripped it off the seam.”

  “I could take it to the tailor.”

  “It’s fine really, thank you.” I nearly ran to the front door to escape any continuation of that conversation.

  I was going to have sex with Nathan Bradley tonight. It was all I could think about. His brown eyes roaming over me, his dark hair mussed from raunchy sex, his strong body pressed against mine… The images were so vivid I almost forgot to pick up Ivan.

  The evening seemed to drag by. I caught myself checking the clock every fifteen minutes from dinner time on. At eight forty-five, I was in my golf cart heading toward the stable. I’d showered and pulled my hair back in a tight bun like always, but I’d chosen a less professional outfit. I pulled on a pair of cut-off sweat shorts and a tank top with flip-flops.

  I thought it would be best if I arrived first, but when I pulled up, Nathan was already there. He was wearing jeans and a fitted black T-shirt that accentuated his muscular chest and broad shoulders. He looked downright edible.