He whimpered lightly, and Sophie glanced at a sleeping Ryan. He was flat on his stomach, face pressed into a pillow, an arm slung over his head.
She turned back to Johnny Cash. “Want to go outside?” she whispered, and he thumped his tail on the floor at the last word.
She slipped out of bed, and headed to the sliding glass door. The door was locked with a regular latch and a deadbolt. It took her a few seconds to wiggle them free, but she managed, and the dog shot out, racing across the grass and lifting his leg on a tree in the far corner of the yard.
For a very…long…time.
Pale pink fingers of light streaked across the morning sky as the sun rose. Taking a deep breath, savoring the fresh scent of a new day, Sophie soaked in the scene before her. Waking up at Ryan’s house, spending the weekend with him, exploring all that they felt for each other had been a day and night of rapture, of passion, and, most of all, of connection.
Fine, it had been only one night, but she knew with both her heart and her analytical mind that Ryan Sloan was changing. He was opening up. He was sharing.
For her.
She practically giggled at the thought as she watched his dog finish his business then tear across the yard and conduct some morning recon with his snout, checking out the fence, perusing the edge of the pool, and sniffing some bushes. She felt bubbly, effervescent even, because she was close to having that elusive thing she’d craved for so long. For her whole damn life. The very gem she’d hunted for and thought she’d found with Holden, only to be proven wrong by the lack of spark. With Holden, she’d let friendship lead, and in return she’d gotten a great friendship. But with Ryan, she let lust, hormones, and desire start the engine. She’d taken a chance by inviting him to the gala without knowing him. That was a risk, but it had paid off. Then she’d nearly lost out the other night.
But he’d reappeared and had come to the table ready. She didn’t need to peer into his mind, but she was thrilled by the glimpses of his heart and soul that he’d been offering. She felt special, she felt admired, and she felt madly desired. To have this kind of crazy, kinky, dirty sex with a man she was falling for…it was like finding a diamond on the side of the road.
It was almost too good to be true, and for a brief moment, her heart seized up. What if it all fell to pieces? What if this was just a bubble? A weekend of bliss and loveliness that would be punctured at midnight?
Ryan’s dog raced to her side, and Sophie pushed those thoughts away as she headed inside. After a quick bathroom trip to freshen her breath, she returned to the kitchen and decided breakfast for her man would be a fine idea. She rolled her eyes at the contents of his fridge—it was pure single guy. Beer. Mustard. A loaf of bread. She scanned the shelves and drawers for bacon, certain she’d find some. Personally, she couldn’t stand it. But what bachelor didn’t like bacon?
She found none.
At least he had a carton of eggs and some butter, so she set to work whipping up some scrambled eggs, and as she turned off the stove, a sleepy and sexy Ryan padded out of the bedroom with rumpled hair and a cute yawn.
“Is this a dream? Or are you really waking me up with a homemade breakfast?”
He walked up behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist as she served the eggs. He planted a sweet kiss on her neck, and his breath was minty fresh. “It’s real,” she said. “If this were a dream, there would surely be bacon. I bet you love bacon.”
He shuddered. “Hate it.”
She turned and stared at him with one eyebrow raised. “I have never met a man who hates bacon.”
“Well, you have now, beautiful. I do not understand the fascination this country has with bacon.”
Her heart skipped a silly beat. “I have to tell you something, Ryan.” Turning her voice intensely serious, she whispered, “I hate bacon, too.”
He cupped her cheeks and kissed her. A quick morning kiss. “You let my dog out to pee and you hate bacon. I knew you were my perfect woman.”
“Sit and eat or your eggs will get cold.”
After the meal, he pulled her onto his lap in his chair, and thanked her for breakfast. “And now I have a question for you. You told me yesterday you don’t have pool-boy fantasies,” he said, reminding her of her joke at the pool.
She nodded. “That is true. Nor stable-boy fantasies either, I might add.”
“Good.” He kissed her earlobe. His voice went low and husky, sending a shiver through her as he asked, “What fantasies do you have?”
That was an easy answer. She pulled back to look him in the eyes. “You.”
He grinned wickedly. “You don’t have to fantasize about me. You can have me. I want to know what you fantasized about before you met me so I can do it to you.”
She widened her eyes and stared at him, then gave the same answer. “You.”
He furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”
“I wanted someone like you. I fantasized about the things we do. The kind of sex we have is the kind of sex I’ve always wanted to have. Dirty, kinky, rough.”
He groaned sexily. “You told me in your car you’ve never had it like this before. How did you know you wanted it like that?”
“The same way I can code with my eyes closed and one hand behind my back. The same way I can tell which cards are most likely to be played next in a blackjack hand. The same way I know two seconds after I see a dress if I want it. I just know. It’s second nature.”
“And you just knew you wanted to be tied up? You wanted to be spanked? You wanted to be told what to do?”
She nodded eagerly. “If you’re making sure I’m still on board, the answer is yes. I want it this way. But if you want to know why, I think it’s because my mind feels so busy all the time. Like mild OCD. I always make sure I’ve turned off the stove before I leave my home, and I check twice that I locked the door. I’ve always felt like I have all sorts of information and facts and details clanging around in my head, back when I was in school, and then when I was running the company. And now, even though I love what I do, I feel like I’m juggling one million things. But when you tie me up, I’m living in the moment. And I’m loving the moment. And that’s why I fantasized for so long about being on my knees, tied up, or bent over the bed for a man like you. And now, just for you.”
He groaned and crushed her lips in a bruising, demanding kiss, giving her exactly what she wanted and erasing anything else in her mind. Just like she asked for. Just like she dreamed about for years. When he broke the kiss, he spoke firmly to her. “I need you to do something right now.”
She recognized that tone instantly, and her nipples hardened in response. He was going to give her an order. “Go to my bedroom. Strip down to nothing. Go into my closet and pick a tie. Put it around your neck. I assume you know how to tie a tie?”
“I do.”
“Then wait for me, bent over the bed, ass raised high in the air, wearing only a tie. While you’re waiting, I want you to get yourself wet,” he said, then took her fingers and slid them into her mouth.
“Suck,” he told her.
She took her own fingers deep in her throat, moaning as she sucked.
He breathed out hard. “Just like that. I’m going to clean up the table and do the dishes, since you cooked breakfast. When I’m done, I want you to be good and ready for me to fuck you.”
* * *
He found his beautiful woman standing at the end of his bed, his green tie nestled between her breasts, the very tie he’d been wearing the day he met her. The fact that she’d chosen that one made him even harder.
Her palms were pressed onto his mattress, her ass lifted in perfect view, her pussy glistening.
“Move closer to the edge of the bed.”
She did as told, glancing back at him, awaiting further instructions.
“Lie on your elbows,” he said, and she lowered herself, offering up her body even more.