Something Wicked This Way Comes, Volume 2

Prologue

Fine grains of sand drifted under the tent flaps, swirling in small eddies over finely woven carpets, not stopping their dance until they rested against a mahogany chest nestled beside a chair of sandalwood. A hand, long since bereft of life, rested on the lid in a final caress, a silk robe nothing but tatters around the bones. Far across the Sahara, a small breeze, warmed by the sun, transformed into a wind and, picking up speed and sand, became a storm that roared across the empty dunes. And when it reached the tent and its lone occupant, the dust storm swallowed it whole, covering it from the sight of men.

Chapter One

“You want me to do what?”

Carla stopped in the middle of the mall and pulled the cell phone from her ear, staring at the touchpad as if she could read her friend’s face to determine if she was pulling one of her usual practical jokes. From the speaker, she could hear Angie uttering reassurances.

A harried mother pushing a stroller and towing a toddler gave Carla a dirty look for her sudden stop, so Carla put the cell back to her ear and moved to a nearby bench, where she could sit and wrestle with her friend’s request in relative privacy.

“Angie, slow down. Tell me again what you want, in short, simple sentences.”

“Listen then! My partner and I have a great find. I really think this woman’s story needs to be told.”

“What woman’s story? And isn’t that what you usually do?” Carla asked, confused. Angie had been a working archeologist ever since they’d graduated from college together. “I thought you guys dug up bones to find out their stories.”

She heard Angie’s long-suffering sigh wafting through her phone from six thousand miles away. “Among other reasons, yes. But I’m not asking you to write a nonfiction report. This needs something more. It needs a real writer’s touch.”

“Gee, thanks.” Despite Angie’s compliment, Carla couldn’t keep the sarcasm out of her voice. Her career track had been decidedly spottier than her best friend’s.

Graduating with a degree in theater, Carla had begun teaching high school English to pay the bills while she worked to get her acting career on the road to stardom. Although she had managed to get a few small walk-ons, acting hadn’t panned out and she’d turned to writing as an outlet for her creative muse.

While working her day job, Carla began to write romance novels, selling her first manuscript after two long years of collecting rejection slips. She was still proud of her stack of rejection letters. They represented her perseverance and determination to succeed at something.

And she had. Just last year she had finished teaching in June and tendered her resignation, finally making the move from teacher to full-time writer.

She was far from a millionaire, though. While it was true she occasionally traveled to a location to soak up the atmosphere, she really didn’t have the time or money to jet off to the Sahara Desert and research some old bones.

Angie’s powers of persuasion, however, were in full swing. “I mean it, Carla. What we’ve found out is incredible. Josef, my partner—you remember him; he’s the gorgeous hunk I keep telling you about. Anyway, he’s the lead archeologist on the dig and he’s coming back to New York to make a presentation to the museum. Don’t worry, I’m not asking you to fly all the way to Egypt on spec. I want you to meet with Josef in New York and get him to tell you the details. I promise you, you’ll be hooked.”

“Are you sure you’re not just trying to set me up on a blind date from the Sahara Desert?” Carla remembered the disastrous last time her friend had tried to set her up with someone.

Angie laughed. “Not this time. Promise. This is totally on the up and up. Tell you what—just meet with him. Listen to the story. He’ll give you all the bare facts. What I want you to do is fill in the details. I think, once you hear him through, you’ll want to write this woman’s story in all its glory. If I’m wrong, then just thank him for his time and walk away. Deal?”

Carla sighed and glanced around her comfortable suburban setting. At least meeting him in New York meant not flying to the hot Sahara. “Deal.”

Why am I so nervous? Carla stepped off the elevator and straightened her suit jacket for the sixth time since entering the building. All she was going to do was listen politely to what the man had to say, thank him for his time and send him on his way. Angie’s intentions might be aboveboard, but Carla still suspected she was being set up.

No matter what story the archeologist had to tell, she wouldn’t be interested. She already had far too many irons in the fire, with two books in edits, two more manuscripts partly finished and an article due to The Romancer on how to maintain the delicate balance between character and plot and still keep the romance hot. The last thing she needed was another project.

A middle-aged secretary led her into a small meeting room, informing her that Dr. Anderson was held up in another meeting and would join her as soon as he finished. With a smirk, the secretary closed the door behind her as she left.

Wonder what that was all about? Shrugging, Carla looked around the small, windowless room. Several artifacts hung on the walls and she wandered from one to another, whiling away the time.

When a few minutes stretched into half an hour, she plopped herself into a chair and drummed her fingers on the table in irritation. Her time was just as precious as “Dr. Anderson’s” and she could be home, working on one of the stories currently clamoring for attention in her brain.

The second hand on her watch ticked toward forty-five minutes. With an impatient push, Carla shoved herself away from the small table and yanked the door open, intending to vent her anger on the smug secretary before departing the building in a relieved huff.

“I’m not waiting any longer. You can tell Dr. Josef—”

So intent was she on yelling at the secretary, Carla body-slammed a wall that shouldn’t have been there. She reeled backward, off balance…

A tall, brawny blond god caught her, and she gasped.

Dr. Josef Anderson, Ph.D., caught the woman before she fell to the floor even as he fought to maintain his own balance. Grabbing her waist, he instinctively pulled her close, one part of his brain registering several important things as he battled to keep them both upright…

Her hair was burnished auburn and fell in waves past her shoulders. The waist beneath his hands was small, yet he felt the strength in her muscles as she recovered her balance. And she wore the most wonderful perfume that reminded him of sunny spring mornings in the desert after a midnight rain.

Then she spoke—and his initial image of the woman splintered.

“If you’re Dr. Anderson, you’re forty-five minutes late. I’m tired of waiting. I’m leaving.”

Josef still held her tightly. “You’re welcome for my catching you, Ms. Braun. I’m so happy I could prevent you from falling and hitting your head on the table, saving you some stitches or, at the very least, a big goose egg.”

A very pretty blush rose up her neck and flushed her cheeks. She dropped her gaze, apparently trying to hide her bad manners.

Josef tightened his grip on her waist, just to see how she would react.

He almost laughed at her predictability. With strength surprising in such a petite body, she pushed against his chest and stepped back. But he had caught the slight intake of breath that signaled a very physical reaction to his closeness before she’d distanced herself.

Of course, she’d caused a bit of a physical reaction in him as well. His cock stirred in a most irritating way. Intriguing. He leaned against the doorjamb and watched her brush the hair from her eyes with an impatient gesture as she gathered her wits and sent a venomous glare in his direction.

Finally the woman tugged her jacket back into place and tossed her head, flinging that glorious hair over her shoulder and out of her face. “Thank you. I was just leaving.”

“So I see.” His gaze took in the smart business suit that did its best to hide the slim figure of the woman before him. Taking his time, he let his gaze wander down along the curve of her hip, over the graceful arc of a calf to the sensible pumps on her feet. The navy-blue hue of the suit did nothing to set off the beautiful blush of her cheeks or match the decidedly angry hazel eyes that flashed at him.

“Well, Ms. Braun, I promised Dr. DiPaolo that I would meet you, and you undoubtedly promised you would meet with me. Since we’ve now met, we can just part ways, having fulfilled our word, if you like.” A pang of regret took him by surprise even as he let her off the hook. He hadn’t expected Carla Braun to look so…intriguing.

Her chin came up. “She told me you had a story for me. You might as well tell me the basic facts. She’ll quiz us both and you know it.”

Josef nodded. “She will. But I’d get around her.”

The way he said it rankled. Carla doubted very much that Dr. Anderson got his way as often as he thought he did. More likely Angie got her way and simply made it seem as if it were his idea.

The archeologist stepped aside and gestured for her to leave, inviting her to end the meeting. But Carla’s stubborn streak rose. Who was he to dismiss her? How dare he assume she wasn’t interested in following up on this story!

Okay, so she wasn’t. But she wasn’t going to let him know that.

“I’d love to hear the story you have to tell, Dr. Anderson.” With a deliberate smirk, she marched back to the table, pulled out a chair and sat down.

He followed her with barely concealed reluctance. His slow steps gave Carla an opportunity to take a longer look at the archeologist. Angie hadn’t been kidding. He was gorgeous. With shoulders a linebacker would envy, the sculpted, straight lines of Nordic heritage and tarnished blond hair that hung in a ponytail to the middle of his back, he personified the image of some ancient Viking raider come to shore to wreak havoc.

Right now, however, his gray eyes glittered with irritation. Good. Why should she be the only one put out?

“Ms. Braun, you need to know I’m against Dr. DiPaolo’s desire to romanticize this story. Quite honestly, I don’t believe in letting people like you exploit the past to create fictional stories about real people. Sorry, but this is science and history, not some throbbing romance novel with heaving bosoms and men with rippling muscles.”

“Ha! A lot you know about romance novels. When’s the last time you read one?” She wasn’t about to admit she was a sucker for those rippling muscles, especially if accompanied by a good, hard, six-pack abdomen.

Her glance fell to Dr. Anderson’s chest, hidden under a plain white shirt, dark tie and rumpled gray suit. She had felt the strength in that chest when she fell into him in the doorway. Now that she had recovered from her shock, the memory of the firm muscles under that shirt momentarily distracted her.

“It doesn’t matter, they’re all the same. She doesn’t need to be dragged through some torrid descriptions of her love affairs. The princess deserves better than that.”

“Hmmm…a princess? Angie didn’t mention that.” Carla gestured to the only other chair in the small room. “Might as well make yourself comfortable, Dr. Anderson. You’re going to have to tell me the story now.”

Josef gritted his teeth. The meeting with the museum director had already taken up more time than he’d expected and now this slip of a woman wanted more. He checked his watch. Damn and damn again—he still hadn’t set it to New York time. When did that next flight for Egypt leave? Spending the night in this damnable city didn’t thrill him one bit.

Unless he had someone to spend it with…

He let his gaze travel over Carla again, wondering what she’d look like tied for his pleasure. Something Angie had told him about her friend niggled at the back of his brain, but he couldn’t quite recall it.

Dismissing the thought as unimportant, he gave an exaggerated bow as he pulled out a chair and turned it backward, straddling the seat and resting his hands along the back just to watch the annoyance cross her face at his cavalier attitude. He wasn’t disappointed. Needling her and watching her blush gave him a rush. Affecting insolence, he started the story.

“Once upon a time, there was a rich princess who… Don’t you want to take notes or something?”

“Be as obnoxious as you like, Dr. Anderson. I’m just here to listen. If the story has as much merit as Angie seems to think, then I’ll read the nonfiction report the two of you have written and go from there. Pray continue with your fascinating account.”

She certainly could hold her own. And surprisingly, he enjoyed their verbal sparring, finding the woman before him…engaging. Without changing his demeanor, he kept his tone nonchalant and related the tale of the Bedouin princess.

“She lived several centuries ago, part of a nomadic tribe of Bedouins. We only know her as Princess M, daughter of a sheikh. The find is remarkable in that the tribe wasn’t very large, nor was it important. Yet the embroidery on the scraps of clothing that survived show an intricacy we’ve seen today only in the larger families. The rich blue and purple dyes used, the silk material of her robes, tell us a great deal about her family’s position, however. As do the pottery pieces.”

Carla leaned forward and Josef resisted the urge to grin. In spite of her reluctance, the story intrigued her. A strand of hair slipped off her shoulder and she unconsciously tucked it behind her ear, cocking her head to the side and narrowing those hazel eyes. He continued.

“The find was also remarkable in that it even came to light. We estimate the tent and its occupant have been buried under the sand for over a thousand years.”

“I know the desert is dry, but I would have thought everything would’ve rotted or worn away after all that time.”

Josef nodded. “There is extensive decay of the clothing and tenting material. But once this tent was buried, it stayed buried…deep. Preserving the rest. It’s hard to measure the sands of the Sahara; the wind is constantly changing its shape. But the sandstorm that buried the princess must’ve put her over five hundred feet below the surface for most of the intervening millennium. We only found her now thanks to another storm and a lost sheep. The shepherd boy who found the remains of the tent thought at first that it was poachers. He ran back to get his father and uncles and they came with guns drawn.”

“And what did they find?”

“A black tent called a bayt, partitioned into two spaces, not so different from their own except the inside was filled with sand. At first they dug it out, thinking there was someone who needed rescuing. The front half of the tent, however, was empty. When one of them unearthed an ancient pot just behind the center curtain, they finally realized this wasn’t a case of poachers caught out in a storm.”

Josef snorted. “Thankfully one of the men understood the significance of the find. They stopped digging before they did any real damage, knowing that museums around the world would pay good money to excavate it. Dr. DiPaolo and I were lucky enough to get the dig. We found the skeleton only after several weeks of sand removal.”

When he didn’t continue, Carla prodded him. “So is that it? Some kid finds a black tent rising out of the desert like a mirage, only this one is real and comes complete with skeleton? There must be something more.”

Josef nodded. “Very perceptive. While that alone is certainly a good find, it’s not what has your friend all excited.”

“What else did you find there?”

“Beside the woman was a trunk. Inside were several lengths of cloth in excellent condition, some with the same embroidered pattern that we found on the remnants of the princess’s robes. There was also a man’s shirt, same pattern. You should know, these patterns were often handed down from one generation to the next. Woven into them were family identification and status. The better a woman was with her needle, the better the pattern. The better the pattern, the better the status. This woman was magnificent.”

“How do you know she embroidered them?”

“Because below the layers of clothing, we found her letters.”

“Letters? How long ago was this?”

“Writing’s been around for more than a thousand years, you know.”

Carla hastened to explain. “I know. I’m just surprised at a Bedouin woman writing letters. Seems out of character.”

“It is. That’s what makes this not just a good find, but a great one. She’s unique. The letters were written in a form of Arabic with smatterings of Old French.”

“Old French? What on earth was a Frenchman doing in the Sahara Desert a thousand years ago?”

Josef watched the wheels turn and gave her time. She twirled a strand of her hair and an errant thought popped into his head—what would that silkiness feel like draped over his cock?

An image of her bending over him, teasing him with her hair, came to mind.

She slapped the table and he jerked, giving a small cough to cover the fact that his mind had gone off on a sensual tangent. A shift of his chair also allowed him to stealthily readjust his cock, which had decided to weigh in on the alluring nature of the woman across from him.

“Got it. A Frenchman in the Sahara a thousand years ago? Had to have been the Crusades.”

“Yes. The Crusades.”

“So you’re saying a Muslim Bedouin princess fell in love with a Christian French knight?”

Josef nodded.

Carla sat back and rolled her eyes. “You’ve got to be kidding me. This plot’s been done to death! I can tell you six Hollywood movies using the same device off the top of my head. Next you’ll be telling me you found a mummy nearby complete with hieroglyphics and a curse.”

“I figured you wouldn’t take this seriously.” Josef slid his chair back and stood up. Too bad. He had almost decided another night in New York could be just what he needed.

She stood as well. “I am taking you seriously, Dr. Anderson. So seriously that I’ll read your dry report as soon as you hand me the copy Angie said you’d give me. But I’m not writing a story that’s already hackneyed, no matter how truthful it might be, and I’m not wasting any more of my time. Good day.”

Carla held out her hand. Josef knew full well what she wanted and deliberately misunderstood. Instead of fetching the report, currently tucked in the bag he’d left behind the receptionist’s desk, he reached forward to take her proffered hand in his and give it a good shake.

She instinctively tried to pull her hand back, but he didn’t let go. The woman needed to have her comfort zone invaded. What was it about her that made him want to do just that? Hell, made him want to toss her onto the table and make love to her? She did nothing but annoy him, yet something pulled him in.

“I don’t want you to write a story about the princess,” he murmured, catching another whiff of her spicy perfume. He steeled himself against it and stared into those wide hazel eyes. “I don’t want to give you my report, either.”

“Angie said… If you don’t, Dr. DiPaolo will make life difficult for you.”

“Is that a threat?” Josef noted she made no attempt to step back, despite the fact that she was flustered. Her cheeks had turned a delightful shade of pink and her gaze refused to meet his.

“It’s a simple statement of the truth.” Now she did make a move backward. He didn’t relinquish his hold on her hand, pulling it closer to his chest.

“May I have my hand back, please?” She still didn’t look at him, but he could hear exasperation building in her voice. Why was he having such fun baiting her? She was nothing to him but a coworker’s distracting friend. He should be on his way back to the airport already.

“Why is keeping your friend happy so important to you? She’s thousands of miles away and won’t know if I give you the report or not, if you don’t tell her.”

She yanked and he let go. Her arm flew back and now she did meet his gaze, her eyes blazing.

“Angie’s a friend. Friends don’t lie to each other. Just give me the damn report and we can call this quits.”

“Have dinner with me tonight and I’ll give it to you then.”

She eyed him in confusion. “Why can’t you give it to me now?”

“Because I want to give it to you after dinner.”

“Are you asking me out on a date?”

Josef couldn’t quite believe it himself. The invitation had flown out his mouth before he’d realized he’d even thought the thought. But once spoken, he liked the idea.

“Apparently, I am.”

Carla briefly thought of Angie’s penchant for setting up blind dates. Had she been suckered again? Her friend didn’t understand how Carla could go through life without a boyfriend on the end of a leash at all times.

What Angie couldn’t get through her head was that Carla didn’t want to hold the leash—she wanted her leash held.

Pursing her lips to keep from smiling at the thought, Carla turned to gaze at an artifact under glass on the side of the room, pretending to consider his offer. Did he know what she wrote? Or that her own sexual predilections were reflected in all her heroines?

Despite his dismissive behavior earlier, she did like the way his gray eyes had lit up when speaking about the princess. Passion flared under that rumpled suit and brusque demeanor. She was sure of it. Turning, she held out her hand once more.

“I accept.”

“You do?”

The disbelief made her chuckle. “Yes, Dr. Anderson. I do. I haven’t been in the city in a while,” she gestured around the room as if it included the entire island, “I might as well make use of the time. Day’s shot for getting any decent writing done, anyway.”

“Gee, I’m so glad you’re deigning to spend some time with me.”

His dry tone didn’t fool her. “You’re playing me, Dr. Anderson. I’ll have dinner with you tonight, you’ll tell me a little more about this Bedouin princess, hand me the report and we’ll go our merry ways. Then you can go back and tell Dr. DiPaolo you went through with your blind date and she’ll be suitably upset with both of us that we didn’t fall into the sack with each other, madly in love with plans to live happily ever after.”

For a moment he just frowned, as if he didn’t know what she meant. Then the light dawned and she liked the way his brow smoothed. What would he look like with his hair down? Probably a wild Viking. She could just picture him with Thor’s hammer in his fist, hair blown back by the winds of Valhalla or wherever it was Norse gods lived. He’d stride up to her, enfold her in his arm, his corded muscles holding her tight…

Carla hefted her purse over her shoulder and turned away quickly, lest her eyes give away her suddenly naughty thoughts.

Josef waited at the door, his hand on the knob. “I don’t know the city very well. What would be a good place for dinner?”

Carla hesitated only a second, still not making eye contact. “Maxwell’s. Down in the Village.”

“Seven o’clock.”

“I’ll be there.”

He opened the door and stepped aside to let her though first. As she passed him, his hand rested briefly on the small of her back, giving her a shiver. He took her hand and touched a kiss to the back in an old-fashioned gesture of civility. “’Til tonight,” he murmured.

Her heart beating hard, Carla merely nodded and stepped out of the office with as much dignity as she could muster when her knees felt like jelly.

Josef watched her go through the glass door and down the hall, very impressed with the view. A small cough brought him back. The secretary wagged her finger at him with a knowing smile.

“You’re a very bad man, Dr. Josef. You are too good with the ladies.”

“Oh, Annalie, if only you were single…”

“Go on with you now. I suppose you need me to make a reservation for the night?”

“Some place called Maxwell’s?” Josef shrugged. “Down in the Village, if that helps.”

“I can do that. But I meant for a hotel.”

Josef laughed. “You have an evil mind, Annalie. I have no intention of taking the lovely Ms. Braun to bed with me tonight.”

The secretary’s look informed him she didn’t believe one word of it. “But you are staying the night, yes? In the city you say you hate so much.”

The raised eyebrow indicated she knew exactly where Dr. Josef’s thoughts had gone as he’d watched the young woman walk down the corridor. Josef chuckled. “Yes, Annalie. I need reservations for dinner—and a hotel.”

“Yes, Dr. Josef.”

With a grin, he retrieved his leather bag from behind her desk, pausing to plant a kiss on the woman’s cheek before sauntering out the glass door himself, wondering where in this city he could find some good stout rope.

Chapter Two

Carla left her car in an all-day parking lot. Driving to Manhattan was fun, driving in Manhattan was not. Taking the subway, she first made her way to Macy’s department store. The business suit said everything she’d wanted it to say and it hadn’t made one bit of difference to Dr. Josef Anderson. Whatever had possessed them, he’d asked her on a date and she’d accepted.

Now she needed an outfit that sent an entirely different message.

As she browsed the racks, though, she vacillated on exactly what that message should be. This blouse screamed “slut” but that blouse blushed “virgin”. Wasn’t there anything in the middle? And the skirts were no better. Lately she’d taken to wearing peasant-type skirts, long and full and graceful. But those said “earth mother”—and no one wanted to fuck an earth mother.

The thought stopped her in the process of rifling through another rack.

That was the question, right there. Did she want him to take her to bed tonight?

Hell yes. Her fictional heroes satisfied her in lots of ways. They said all the right things at just the right times. They read her mind and told her what she wanted them to tell her.

Not like Dr. Anderson. A smile played on her lips as she remembered the feel of his chest under her hands. They might’ve gotten off on a bad foot, but she was intrigued enough to go to dinner with him just to get that damn report.

She turned to another rack. Despite Angie’s assumptions, Carla had dated several men over the past few years. For a variety of reasons, however, nothing had ever clicked. Her brand of sex just wasn’t very common. What would make her think Angie’s archeologist would be interested in sex with a BDSM flavor?

Dr. Josef Anderson would be on a flight back to Egypt within a day, two at most. She’d liked the feel of his hand on her back, the way he’d held her tightly to him when she’d fallen. He wasn’t looking for a long-term relationship. That was okay, neither was she.

Did he expect to get lucky tonight?

She eyed the low-cut blouse in her hand. Kinky sex or not, she certainly hoped so.

Josef dropped his purchases on the king-sized bed that took up most of the small hotel room. All he wanted was cheap and clean, and Annalie had found him both. The lone receptionist downstairs had been very helpful in finding a hardware store not too far away and he’d spent the afternoon mooning over the chains and locks he would love to employ to hold a woman captive.

Someday. Someday when he stopped wandering the globe in search of ancient artifacts and new discoveries. Someday when he bought himself a cabin in the mountains and could fill it with all sorts of nefarious workings. Someday, when he found a woman worth building it for.

He grinned as he hefted a hank of white cotton rope. It could be used in so many ways. The image of Carla squirming on the bed’s white sheets, her body neatly spread for his inspection, lingered in his imagination. Would she go for it? Was she the adventurous type? Knowing his archeological partner, any friend of Angie’s had to be willing to take a few risks. And, judging from Carla’s wit and blushes when he’d touched her this morning, Josef thought he just might get his wish.

Holding that positive thought, he ventured to a fetish store and picked up a set of leather cuffs that would give him options—should Carla be amenable. While the thought of hogtying her made his cock stir, that might prove to be too extreme for a first date. Such an activity would need to wait for at least date three.

He chuckled as he made his way back to the hotel. Best not to count your submissives before they’re trained, he mused. And you’re on your way back to Egypt tomorrow in any case.

Back in his room, he took his time setting the scene, fully intending to get her up here tonight and knowing just the ploy that would work.

She wanted that report? She’d have to come and get it.

Burying the packet deep in his leather bag, he headed into the shower.

Carla checked her watch. Perfect. Right on time for dinner with a man who looked like a Viking god and had the temperament to boot. She grinned as she stepped off the subway. Why hadn’t his parents just named him Thor and been done with it?

She saw him before he saw her. Not surprising, as he stood a head taller than most. He was still a half-block away, coming toward the restaurant from the opposite direction. Heads turned as he passed, not all of them women’s. Carla hid her smile. Perfection was perfection, and it gave her a little thrill that both genders appreciated his incredible physique.

But then the crowd parted and she got a full look at what had turned those heads. He’d changed out of the rumpled gray suit that had given him a faint air of universities and museums, and into a simple pair of tan pants and an open-front, crisp white shirt. In the warm summer air, he’d turned the sleeves back, giving a glimpse of the strong muscles she’d felt this morning.

The brown belt he wore encircled a narrow waist, and the tailored pants with the sharp creases and cuffed hems harkened back to a time when men were men. Judging from all the fluttering eyelashes, several women would gladly forsake women’s lib for one night with such a man.

Carla’s steps slowed as she took in that gorgeous sight—and its implications. She’d come into the city that morning more as a favor for a friend, her attention still involved in the stories that were ever-present in her mind. But as she watched Josef approach, her imaginary heroes bowed and left, understanding that this flesh-and-blood hero would make mincemeat of them.

He saw her and smiled and Carla’s heart leapt into her throat. How had she not noticed his dimples this morning? Her mind really must not have been in attendance. They crinkled his cheeks into ripples of merriment and she smiled in response.

“Ms. Braun, I see you are punctual.” His voice, smooth and rich, held just a note of scholarly approval.

“I’m anxious to get my hands on…your report, Dr. Anderson.”

He laughed and Carla liked the sound. A baritone, she noted. A full, rich baritone laugh that turned her coy smile into a real one.

“Angie would be very disappointed if we didn’t at least reach the stage where we stopped being so formal. Will you call me Josef?”

“You’re right.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Josef. I’m Carla.”

He took her hand and turned it palm up. For a moment she thought he might kiss it, but instead he ran a finger over her palm. “You have a strong lifeline and a penchant for adventure.”

She chuckled. “I’m not so sure about that. I like my adventure where I control the outcome—in my head.”

He cocked an eyebrow at her. “And never in real life?”

Carla’s breath fluttered. “Only when I know I’ll be safe. Or in safe hands.”

Josef still held her hand, his eyes suddenly serious. “I would never hurt you, Carla.”

She looked at him, surprised, and he smoothly backtracked. “Angie would never forgive me.”

Carla tried to conceal her disappointment. “No,” she agreed. “Angie’s my best friend, despite the physical distance.”

Josef’s eyes narrowed. He hadn’t intended to get so serious there and had covered up his statement with a flippant remark. But her mask had dropped and he’d seen the vulnerability she had so successfully hidden that morning. Cursing himself that he hadn’t stopped in a bookstore to buy one of her novels, he gestured to the restaurant’s door.

“Are you hungry?”

The smile she gave him seemed perfunctory and he realized she wore her emotions on her face. What she felt, she expressed. The woman had no hidden agendas, no games that she played.

He’d also noted her knee-length full skirt—topped by a blouse with a neckline that plunged most enticingly. The short, capped sleeves showed off slender arms that were uniformly white, compared to the deep tan of his own. In his mind, he’d already thought about how to undress her. Did she wear panties? Should he bind her first and then remove the skirt?

“Josef?”

He came back to the present quickly. “I’m sorry. You were saying?”

She looked up at him through thick lashes, the coy smile back. “You looked like a wolf ready to devour me.”

He laughed as a cover to his true intent. “All in good time, little Red. I need to eat your grandmother first.” Josef took her elbow and started to turn her toward the door, but her next words stopped him.

“I’d rather you ate me and not my grandmother.”

Did she mean what he thought she meant? Judging by the way her cheeks had turned bright pink, he thought she did.

“Carla…” He studied her face, which she had turned to him in challenge, despite her blushing cheeks. “We didn’t get off to a very good start this morning. I was cranky after a long plane ride and giving a presentation I didn’t want to give. This dinner was to be my way of making it up to you.”

“Not as a means to get me into bed?”

Was that hurt in her eyes? “Well…” he hedged.

“Josef, we’re two adults with a mutual friend who thinks she knows better than everyone else. Yes, we did get off to a bad start this morning. My head was still filled with all my current works in progress and the thought of starting another, especially one with—you have to admit—an overdone plot by romance book standards, just put me in a bad mood.”

He started to reply and stopped when she held up her hand.

“This is probably going to feed into your ego, but I find you a very attractive man, Dr. Josef Anderson. I’m generally not this forward, but you’re leaving for your dig in the Sahara shortly and I’ll spend the rest of my days kicking myself for not taking advantage of this moment if I don’t…” She trailed off as if trying to find her courage.

“Don’t what?” He wanted a particular conclusion, but it had to come from her. There could be no coercion if this was to be safe—for both of them.

She rolled her eyes and bounced on the balls of her sandal-clad feet. The heels made her a little taller but she still barely came to his chin. He took that petite chin in his fingers and turned her face toward his.

“Don’t what?” he asked softly.

She blushed furiously now. Taking a deep breath, her words came out in a rush. “If I don’t go to bed with you.”

“I’d love to see you tied to my hotel bed, ready and—”

“I knew it! I just knew you had to be!”

She laughed, and Josef, though enjoying the pure delight in the sound, also felt very confused. He was confessing his rather kinky sexual preferences and she seemed…elated?

“You knew what, Carla?”

“Okay, so I didn’t know, I hoped. Josef,” she tossed her head to indicate the door, “let’s bag this and walk for a bit, shall we?”

Josef shrugged, totally lost. “Sure, why not?”

“Which way is your hotel?”

He pointed and she turned. “Let’s talk and we can walk in that direction.”

The streets teemed with people enjoying a beautiful, sunny evening in New York, but for the two of them the streets might as well have been empty. They talked, and Carla confessed her own sexual preferences as they went along.

“So you’re telling me you’re a submissive, and Angie knows it.” The careful, scholarly side of Josef wanted to be sure he had all the facts straight before he took her up to the room he’d already prepared.

“Exactly. The two of us don’t tell each other everything, but we’re friends. And, of course, she’s read my books.”

Again Josef gave himself a mental kick in the shins for not including a bookstore in his afternoon of shopping. “I’m almost afraid to ask, but what, again, do you write?”

“Erotic romance with a BDSM twist.”

Josef felt as if he’d been hit with a sledgehammer. “Why, that little minx…”

Carla gave him a look of confusion. “Excuse me?”

“Angie. Dr. DiPaolo. I should wring her pretty little neck.” He looked at Carla. “She set us up.”

Carla’s laugh rang true. “You’re just figuring that out?”

“She knows a bit about my sexual predilections, and she made up this whole cock-and-bull story of you needing to write the princess’s tale just to get the two of us together.”

Carla considered his conclusion. “She might actually want me to write the story. She’s a sucker for historical romance. But she also knows it’s not my forte, so you may be right.”

Josef stopped and indicated a small door squeezed in between a pizza parlor and an electronics store. “My hotel.”

“And I suppose the report is upstairs in your room?”

There was no mistaking the twinkle in her eye. Josef nodded and she grinned.

But he needed to be sure. He pulled her into his arms right in the middle of the busy sidewalk. “If I take you up and ask for your total obedience, you’ll give it to me? A stranger?”

“Angie talks about you all the time and she vouches for you. I trust her opinion.”

“Angie talks about me?” He frowned. “What does she say?”

“She’s been angling to get the two of us together for a while, always telling me how perfect you are for me.” Carla shrugged. “After tonight, I’ll know if she’s right or not.”

“I want you to have a safeword.”

“I want me to have a safeword. Will the traffic lights do? It’s pretty standard, I know, but…”

“It’ll do. Green if everything’s okay, yellow if you need a break. Red only if you want the date to stop immediately. Limits?”

Carla didn’t hesitate. “No kids, no animals, no human waste products, no blood.”

He chuckled. “I’m on board with all of that.”

Carla took a deep breath, calming the sudden butterflies in her stomach. Giving him a long look, she took the plunge. “Perfect. I’m ready when you are.”

He tilted her head up, his fingers strong on her chin. “We’ve never even kissed, Ms. Braun.”

Her breath caught as his lips touched hers. A gentle kiss that deepened as his arms tightened around her waist to pull her closer. She raised her hands, sliding them along the crispness of his shirt, feeling the strength of the muscles underneath. Around them, horns honked, engines roared and people crowded. Carla felt nothing but his incredible presence encircling her, overwhelming her, protecting her.

And when his tongue pressed against her lips, demanding entrance, she opened for him, letting him possess her mouth, enjoying the incredible confidence and domination of his will. His arms tightened further and she eagerly returned his kiss, letting him know she wanted this.

“Get a room!”

They parted, Carla blushing furiously, Josef only grinning. The speaker was already gone but the sentiment hung between them.

Josef took her hand and bent to whisper in her ear.

“Come, little one.”

The words sent a shiver down her spine.

Putting her hand in his, Carla followed him into the building.

Chapter Three

Josef paused just outside the door to his room. He still held Carla’s hand and now he pulled her palm to his lips. Such delicate fingers she had. Long and slender, like his own, except she wore her calluses in different places. He rubbed his thumb over the permanent ridge at the top of her middle finger.

“You still write longhand?”

She nodded, her voice quiet. “When I get stuck. Getting away from the computer seems to access a different part of my brain. I think differently with a pencil in my hand than I do in front of a computer screen.”

He kissed the callus and drew her close. The spicy scent of her perfume filled his senses and he inhaled deeply. “If I do this right, tonight you won’t be thinking at all.”

“If you do this right, I won’t want to think.”

“No topping from the bottom,” he warned. He had experience with women who acted one way on this side of the bedroom door—and completely differently on the other. He tipped Carla’s face up to his, searching her eyes for any sign of a Domme.

She shook her head, her gaze steady. “Once inside, I’m yours.”

A slow smile of satisfaction spread over his face. Hoping this woman who stuck to her guns when she felt she was right could also set aside her independence when it came to sex, he turned to slide the card into the lock. A thought occurred to him and he hesitated.

“I believe in honesty between a Dom and a sub,” he told her. “Trust builds on honesty and we need trust in order to continue.”

Carla looked puzzled. “Is there something you forgot to tell me? Like you have a wife or something?”

Josef smiled. “Not quite so drastic. It’s just that, well, I’d rather hoped you and I might spend the evening together, so I…” He glanced at the still-closed door.

“You prepared the room.”

He shrugged, feeling a little sheepish. “I did.”

She reached up and bussed him full on the lips. “I was rather hoping you might have,” she confessed.

“You’re not angry?”

“I probably should be, that you thought me so easy a pushover, but in truth, I’d rather think that you liked me enough to want to spend time with me.” Her voice dropped to a low murmur. “Time spent in there.” With a nod of her head, she indicated the room beyond the closed door.

“Then wait here.”

Carla nodded and stepped back as he slid his keycard into the lock. Briefly she had a very dirty thought about that action, but he slipped inside the room and shut the door behind him before she could give it voice. Which was probably a good thing. Her sense of humor had gotten her into trouble with Doms in the past. Sometimes it was hard to remain submissive when an opportunity arose for a particularly good zinger. And she was a sucker for a good punch line.

The hallway remained empty, for which she was grateful. She needed this. She wasn’t into one-night stands, and it had been a while since she’d last played. Then she chuckled to herself. What was this, if not a one-night layover? He’d be on a plane for Egypt in the morning and back to his sandy princess.

And herself? She’d be back at her computer, rejuvenated and ready to write some very sexy stories, if all went well. Tonight was a win-win if Dr. Josef Anderson could perform as well as she thought he could.

The door opened—and Carla stifled a gasp.

He’d taken off his shoes and stood barefoot on the hotel’s plush carpet. His long blond hair hung loose, framing his Nordic face, a face now filled with power and desire. Where before that power had expressed itself in arrogance, it now took the form of authority and pure male sexuality.

His shirt hung open, revealing a smooth chest and tight muscles, muscles that had turned her knees weak this morning when she first ran into him and he’d caught her so easily. He’d set her on her feet as if she weighed nothing. He could so easily crush her and yet he’d held her as delicately as a rose.

Carla locked her knees lest she melt right there in the hallway.

Behind him, the room glowed with the light of over a dozen candles. Josef held out his hand in invitation. Without hesitation, she took it.

A surge of triumph coursed through him and Josef smiled, stepped back and led her past the short hallway. He turned her around to face away him, taking a moment to shrug his shirt off. Stepping closer, he let the shirt fall at her feet, so she would know he was now naked from the waist up. But when she tried to turn to see, he encircled her waist with his hands, pulling her against him a little more roughly than he’d intended.

She didn’t protest and without giving her time to recover, he slid his hands around and up her chest. Her intake of breath stirred his cock and he reveled in the feel of her. He let his hands roam, pushing down her skirt, pulling up her blouse, cupping her breasts in her bra then pressing those delightful orbs flat against her ribs. She was his to explore, his to fondle, to tease, to take.

Carla’s hands came up, resting over his as she leaned back, her head resting on his chest. She made a move as if to turn toward him but he didn’t allow it, keeping her pressed to his front so she could feel his rising cock against the small of her back. The easy submission she offered fed his control and his balls tightened.

Josef wanted her naked. Now. Still not giving her time to process his swift actions, he grabbed her blouse and pulled it off over her head, glorying in the way her shoulder-length tresses fell against soft, white shoulders. Unable to resist the feel of such silkiness, Josef tangled his fist in Carla’s hair, gentling his touch slightly to pull her head back even as his other hand encircled her exposed throat.

“You are my plaything.” His fingers pressed ever so lightly against her stretched skin. In answer, she raised her chin higher, giving her vulnerability to him as a gift. His cock grew hard.

This was a woman worth dominating.

He turned her around, still holding her tightly, not losing his grip on her hair. Her eyes were already losing focus. The small whimper from the back of her throat urged him on. He needed to taste that whimper, feel the softness of the lips that suppressed it.

Bringing his face to hers, he kissed her. Hard. She didn’t give way at first and so he forced his tongue inside. A second later he rejoiced that she not only opened for him, but pressed back, giving herself and pushing him on.

He loved the taste of her, of her lips, of her tongue. Pulling her lip between his teeth, he nipped until she gasped. Her breasts pressed against him, her nipples stiff points. But the bra was in the way. Josef reached behind her, unclasped the bra and slid the straps off her arms. Two beautiful, round breasts, nipples hard with desire, rested against his chest.

His left hand still fisted in her hair, he pulled her head back again, palming a naked breast with his free hand. Josef bent her backward and her arms went around his neck even as she arched her back in offering.

He dove for the nipple, sucking it, pulling it with his teeth as her fingers twisted in his hair. How long had it been since he’d had such a willing woman? One who so freely gave herself into his hands? He needed to get his pants off soon or his cock would burst right through the fabric. Carla’s hands moved over his body, urging him forward. Did she have any idea how close he was to losing control and taking her right there?

Whirling around, he backed her to the bed, laying her down, keeping his body pressed to hers, engulfing her with his strength and size. For her sake, as well as his, he needed to get her tied down.

A rope that ran under the mattress connected the cuffs he’d bought earlier. Once those cuffs were secured around her wrists, she’d be unable to bring her arms together.

Plundering her mouth again, he slid her arms up and apart. But to fasten them into the cuffs, he had to stand and he didn’t want to. He wanted to touch this woman, explore every centimeter of her body, discover every sound she could make. Lifting himself, he forced a deep breath, exerting control over his own animal instincts. He would know her, in every sense of the word. But he had time. He would savor every discovery like a connoisseur lingering over a fine merlot.

Josef knew the sudden loss of his body would throw her mind off balance again, and so he abruptly stood and stepped to the head of the bed.

Carla’s mind reeled. The onslaught had been fast and overwhelming. She resisted her first instinct to fight him off, bracing herself instead and letting him in. He had accepted that submission with a passion that left her breathless and unable to focus as her body responded with passionate lust. She ached to have him inside her, her nipples tingling with his touch, her clit swelling with need, her pussy damp and ready. Damn but he was good. Her body was remembering what it was like to be awakened after too long a time spent dormant, too long a time spent wrapped in fictional lives.

But he’d left her. Trying to orient herself, she felt soft leather encircle her wrist and she twisted to look up along the bed. Something glittered in his hand. He flashed it so she could see a small gold lock. Another moment and the snick of it closing told her she was caught. A quick tug confirmed it and her pussy flooded even as she tamped down the mewl of protest that rose in her throat.

Her eyes never left him as he walked along the bedside, not returning her look, not touching her. He still wore the pressed khaki pants and the easy way he sauntered around the end of the bed made her heart pound. A lord of all he surveyed, a Norse god to whom she owed obedience, a man of discipline, control and power. A man who commanded deference and respect.

Positioned too far down on the bed, Carla’s arm didn’t quite reach to the cuff on the other side but Josef didn’t let that deter him. He simply hooked his hands under her arms and pulled her farther up the bed as if she were just a thing, a lightweight object he needed to place. The thought made her pussy clench.

“You have become my toy. My plaything.” He leaned down and put his mouth near her ear. “And yet, this is no game, little one. This is very real. Very real indeed.”

Josef smoothed the hair from her face. Carla felt a familiar tug in the pit of her stomach at his nearness—excitement combined with desire with a small dollop of fear tossed in for good measure, all of which combined to twist her insides into a huge knot of eager wanting.

“Yes Sir,” she murmured, pulling her arms to test what kind of movement he’d left her. Too loose and the game would be over quickly. Too tight and she’d have to call “yellow” to have him fix the bindings.

Carla discovered she could move her arms up and down a little, but with her body centered on the bed, they still remained over her head and spread apart. He let her challenge him, quietly waiting while she figured out what he already knew. Her bindings were tight. She would go nowhere until he let her.

She still wore her skirt and panties, the latter quite soaked with the juices of her need. With a nod, she acquiesced, acknowledging his authority.

He sat on the bed beside her. The sudden nearness of all that power made her gasp and she took a deep breath to still the qualm that flared in her gut. She was essentially helpless, unable to prevent him from doing whatever he wanted.

He touched her, ever so lightly, and she suppressed a grin. Oh yeah, he had the magic. His fingertips trailed over her naked breasts, idly exploring, his gaze never leaving her face. She tried to keep her eyes open, to watch him as he watched her, but his touch ignited her body, every finger leaving a trail of fire behind.

His hand dipped along her side and her eyes flew open as her body jerked her out of the moment.

“Ticklish there?”

She took a deep breath. “Very.”

Deliberately, he lightly brushed the area again, intently watching her reactions. Again she jumped and grimaced. His fingers ran over her hip and came back to the same spot and she flinched again. She wanted to cry out for him to stop, yet gave him her forbearance until she knew what he wanted.

“Thank you, little one, for your patience. Now I know where the ticklish spot is.” He paused as if considering. “You didn’t mention tickling as a limit. Do you want to add it to your list?”

Did she? She’d been tickled breathless before and while she didn’t necessarily enjoy it, she couldn’t say it bothered her either. When she didn’t answer after several seconds, Josef nodded.

“I see. Well then, I shall simply file away the information to use or not use, as I see fit.”

Carla nodded. “I think that’s best.”

She saw a mischievous twinkle in his eye and he trailed his fingers to her other side. Her warning glance didn’t stop him and he managed to find the ticklish spot on that side. He approached it from different directions until satisfied he knew exactly where it was and what level of touch set her off. A firm hand did nothing; a featherlight touch could send her body into paroxysms of laughter.

And through it all, her need for him grew stronger. Josef took the time to learn her body, to play with it as if it were a finely tuned instrument. His slow, almost scientific deliberation sent her blood racing as his touches pushed her into true submissiveness.

Josef looked down at the woman tied to the bed, astounded by the way she responded. She gave herself so freely, allowed him to hold power over her even in the littlest things. Granted, he had pushed her only a little, but she gave the promise of so much more.

Leaning down, he sucked the closest nipple into his mouth, tasting her, curious as to how she would respond. A whimper exploded from her and he fought the urge to smile. Gloating could be a powerful tool, but not one to be used lightly or too often. Instead, he nipped that wonderful little bud with his teeth, gently biting, then laving with his tongue and sucking it in again.

“Oh God, Josef, you’re going to make me come!”

He heard the desperation in her voice and sat up to look in her eyes, his hand covering the now-wet breast. As he talked to her, his fingers played with her nipple, pinching, twisting, keeping it in his possession.

“We’re just getting started, little one. Can you trust me enough to give me power even over your orgasms?”

Her breath, ragged and uneven, made her voice waver. “I think so.”

“‘Think so’ is not good enough.” He pinched the nipple hard, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger. She gasped and arched her back.

“Yes,” she cried out. “Yes, I can trust you enough to give you my orgasms. Please, please let me come now, though.”

Josef released the nipple, giving her breast a light slap.

“Not yet.”

She let out a cry of frustration and collapsed back on the bed. He liked seeing her eyes slightly unfocused. Already she was sliding toward subspace. If he played his cards right, he’d take her far deeper. And orgasm denial was one way to move her in that direction.

Besides which, it gave him a huge power rush. He totally controlled her now, and his cock, already semi-hard, pressed more insistently against his slacks.

“This skirt has to go,” he declared and reached for the buttons that closed it on the side. But that put his fingers quite close to her ticklish spot. With a mischievous smile, he reached over, knowing her gaze was on him. She’d expect him to tickle her.

But a mind fuck is all about the unexpected. Four buttons held her skirt closed and he opened the first two quickly and efficiently. The strap of her bikini panties was a sexy red stripe against her white skin. Pausing to trace the top with his finger, he waited until she closed her eyes, lulled by his slow touch, before using his other hand on her opposite side to tickle her.

Her eyes flew open and her laughter came in gasps as he alternated between pulling down her skirt and panties together and tickling her on both sides, his laughter joining hers. Finally Josef flung Carla’s clothes to the side and bounced onto the bed beside her, the two of them breathless and giggling.

It took her several tries, but finally Carla caught enough breath to speak an entire sentence. “You are a nefarious Dom, aren’t you?”

“I try to be.”

“I can’t see you very well.”

“Do you need to?”

“Just want to.”

He obliged by propping his head up on one hand. His gray eyes, bright with enjoyment, seemed to read her mind. “You like my nefariousness.”

Carla shook her head then acquiesced. “I do.”

“Even when I do this?”

His hand slipped between her thighs, pulling her leg toward him, hooking his own leg over to prevent her from moving back. Not that she would, but the fact that choice wasn’t an option gave her that warm feeling in her belly again. He pushed her other thigh away, spreading her legs for his pleasure.

Her pleasure.

His hand slipped over her mound, Josef’s fingers twining in the small hairs she kept neatly trimmed before he slid a solitary finger into her slit and over her engorged clit. She gasped and instinctively her legs tried to close.

“Unh-unh.” His voice held a note of reprimand. “Keep those legs open. You’re mine, remember? Mine to explore as I want.”

She moved her right leg away, her left still pinioned. In reward, his finger slid over her clit again, sending another wave of desire coursing through her body. All she could do was to lie back and enjoy the ride.

Letting go wasn’t ever easy. Part of her always wanted to maintain at least a modicum of control. She feared ever releasing herself to another entirely. What if she never got herself back?

Yet in Josef’s hands, she felt safe, knew that he wouldn’t let her go too far. Taking another step toward complete abandonment, she relaxed her legs and let him play with her most private parts.

Sensing the change in her, Josef pressed his advantage, sliding his fingers down to her soaked pussy. She was ready. She was more than ready. How had she managed to keep control so long?

Yet he was selfish. Denying orgasms allowed the body’s energy to build so that, when it finally released, the resulting explosion would make for an incredible ride. And he wanted to be inside her when that happened. They would ride together.

Quickly he stood, his cock fueled by her cries of protest as he once more left her body on the edge. Stripping off his pants and briefs, he turned to face her, to give her a good look at what she was about to be invaded with.

Freed, his cock stretched nearly the length of Carla’s forearm. The thick shaft, now ridged with veins filled nearly to bursting, looked to be almost as big around as one of her slender wrists. Carla’s eyes widened in appreciation, which made his balls bunch in anticipation.

But he had to be certain she was ready. She was his to dominate, to tie up, to play with, but not to hurt. He liked Ms. Carla Braun far too much to scare her away after one evening together. And there was the little fact that causing harm went against his nature.

Of course, he didn’t need to tell her that. Let her think what she would, it was all a part of the slow psychological game he played with her mind.

“I’m going to take you hard, Carla. You’ll stretch for me and welcome me in.”

“Please…” Her voice trailed off and he didn’t know if she begged for or against his entrance.

“Color,” he demanded.

She arched her back and brought her knees up, her legs open wide. “Green.”

And yet her brow furrowed and her breath caught. Perfect.

Quickly slipping on a condom, he stretched out beside her once more. “Beg me,” he whispered as his hand slid possessively between her legs and to her pussy. Her clit, still swollen from his previous use, peeked through her nether lips and Josef fingered it, watching her head toss between her captured arms.

“Please, Josef. Please take me.”

“Where? Where do you want to go?” His voice, rough with desire, pushed her deeper.

“I want…I want… Dammit, I want to come!” She nearly screamed the last word before dropping her voice, pleading, “Please, Josef. Please let me come.”

He slipped a finger inside her, quickly adding a second one. “Not until given permission,” he told her, sliding in a third finger to stretch her.

Above her head, her hands balled into fists as she clenched her muscles, her determination to obey him holding steady. He slid in a fourth finger and realized that, with a little more work, he could slide his entire fist inside.

His cock protested that thought, however. His own need overruled and he shifted his weight, poising between her legs. Even sheathed, he could feel the heat from her pussy drawing him in.

“Open for me,” he murmured, rubbing the tip of his cock in her juices.

“Yes,” she replied, pressing her hips upward and inviting him inside.

Moving gently, he pressed the sensitive tip of his cock against her pussy, testing her, testing himself. Such a delicate agony, to be so close to her warm embrace… He slid out and in again, still no farther than the ridge just behind the head of his cock. To go deeper would destroy the remaining shreds of his control.

And then she opened her eyes. Trust and openness showed there. She mouthed a single word, “Please,” and his control shattered.

He entered her deeply, feeling her muscles protest, listening to her cry out as he filled her. His muscles worked to pull out and plunge in again, her body giving way. A third thrust and she moved with him. She pulled him in, her tight pussy begging, needing to be taken.

God, he wanted to come! But not yet. He still had that modicum of control. Not until he felt her go over the edge. Groaning out his need, he pushed in and held himself inside, tormenting them both.

“Open your eyes, Carla. Let me see you come.”

She obeyed, his control over her complete. Agony mingled with ecstasy in her eyes as he commanded her body. She was his to possess, his to own. She gave him everything.

“Come for me, little one. Let me feel…”

The muscles of her pussy contracted painfully around his cock and her body arched. Her eyes lost focus although her gaze never left his face. He’d glimpsed the passion she was capable of before, now it beamed from her in unfettered, raw emotion. She gave her orgasm with every part of her being.

Passion begets passion. His balls tightened painfully and he knew his control was doomed. Never before had a woman given so much of herself so completely. She held nothing back. Her complete submission undid him.

He could hold off no longer. He moved with her, feeding her orgasm, prolonging it. She was beautiful, and she was his. Holding himself still, he relished the pain in his balls, the raw sensitivity of his cock before forcing himself just a hair deeper.

Their bodies convulsed together. The abyss opened and willingly he dropped into it, their souls connected, their bodies one. Her pussy contracted around his cock, the muscles pulling his seed from him in hot spurts. The condom filled and still she urged him on, milking him of every last drop.

And when he was empty, when the world slowly came back into focus, he looked down at the woman who had so totally undone him. A strand of hair had fallen across her face, a face still flushed with their shared passion. Slowly she opened her eyes and smiled at him.

His arms shook in shock. This woman, a one-night layover in a city he hated, had somehow entered his heart. He wanted her. For more than just this one evening. Lowering himself, he laid his head beside hers, his softening cock still buried deep in her pussy.

“Thank you,” he whispered in her ear.

Chapter Four

Carla drifted in a haze of satiated relaxation. Josef had stayed inside her until nature parted them, releasing them both from her firm grip. He’d unlocked the cuffs and removed his condom, then climbed onto the bed beside her, pulling her into his arms, where she drifted between sleep and contentment.

His stomach growled. She chuckled and turned over to face him. His hair, unbound and falling over his shoulders, gave him a rakish air, and the guilty grin did nothing to dispel the image of a satisfied Norseman.

“Sorry ‘bout that.”

He spoke slowly, replete, his voice as languid as she felt. Did she have any bones left? Apparently so, for she reached up and cupped his face with her hand.

“Smile for me,” she told him, her voice as languorous as his.

“Why?” Even as he asked, he did her bidding.

She grinned in return, her fingers exploring the wonderful valleys and ridges of his dimpled cheeks. “Because I like how your face crinkles when you do.”

His stomach growled again and he sighed. “Sorry again, but a man’s stomach has a mind of its own.”

Taking a deep breath, she rolled onto her back and stretched, her body aching in all the right places. His hand fell onto her breast, kneading it, and he moved closer, placing little kisses on her skin. She moaned and ran her hand down his back.

At which point his stomach became positively insistent. She snorted in laughter as he sat up and looked at the offending part of his anatomy.

“I guess I shouldn’t have skipped lunch if I was also going to skip dinner.”

“You didn’t each lunch? No wonder.” Giving a final stretch, Carla sat up. “We need to feed you or you’ll faint on the plane back to Egypt.”

Josef’s eyes grew serious. “I do need to go back, Carla.”

She put her hand over his. “I know. I’m not asking for anything, Josef.”

“I’ll be gone for another three months before returning to the university for a semester of teaching.”

Carla just nodded, unsure where he was going with this and not wanting to make a fool of herself.

“When I return, will you… I mean, would you be interested in…” His voice trailed off.

Carla smiled and squeezed his hand. “I think Dr. DiPaolo would be very unhappy with us if we didn’t.”

This time Carla’s stomach gurgled and they both burst out laughing. “I skipped lunch as well,” she admitted.

“Well then, in this city that never sleeps, let’s go find us some food, woman.”

“Agreed.” She stood and picked up her panties and skirt, still bunched in the corner where he’d thrown them. But his arms were around her before she could untangle them. Turning toward that incredible chest, she reached up and slid a lock of his blond behind his back. He bent to kiss her and she held on to his muscled shoulder, surprised that she could possibly want more after all he’d given her this evening.

And when the kiss ended, he bussed her on the nose and informed her, “After we’ve eaten, I know a good fetish shop that has a magnificent flogger in the window. And I just happen to know the back that I need to try it out on.”

“You do, do you?”

“I do.” He kissed her again and Carla felt her pussy clench at the thought of being at his mercy again.

“Then let’s eat quickly and go shopping,” she murmured against his lips. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint Angie by not taking advantage of every moment of this blind date she set up.”

“Nor would I, little one, nor would I.”

Quickly dressing, Carla marveled at what the day had wrought.

And she still didn’t have that damn report.

Grinning, she followed him into the hallway and waited as he closed the door. Maybe she’d pick it up—next time.