Surrender to a Sex Therapist Read online

  “He doesn’t hate women.” Lynette snorted, bringing me back to the present conversation once more. “You can’t believe everything you hear from models and read in gossip rags.”

  “Well, I won’t pretend I’m happy to work with him, but I’ll do it.” I let out an annoyed sigh. “It’ll help me, it’ll help Well Dressed Man. We can’t say no.” I could almost see Lynette’s corporate shark smile when I agreed. One of the reasons I loved the woman. She was ruthless, but she also had an ethical compass. Like me.

  “That’s my girl,” she said. “I knew you wouldn’t wimp out. Oh, there’s one more thing.”

  “What’s that?” I asked as I fished a silver hoop earring out of my Brazillian thong.

  She cleared her throat, and I knew something I wouldn’t like was about to spill through the phone. “He wants you to live with him until the suit is finished.”

  I dropped the earring and nearly dropped the phone. “Say that again?”

  ***

  Well Dressed Man International is a business suit brand that my friend’s Lynette and Jake Perkins own, and I’m their creative director for it and Well Dressed Woman International, our partner company. We launched the brands five years ago, and in that time we’ve won awards for our innovative designs. We’ve been profiled for Apparel magazine and our fashions are often found in Vogue.

  But as I took the elevator up to our studio and offices, I didn’t feel the usual joy I did when coming to work. Instead I simmered at the thought of having to do business with an egotistical ass like Blaine, but this was about more than just me, and I wouldn’t run away and be completely unprofessional. That just wasn’t my style. Still, asking me to live with him while I designed the suit was completely unacceptable, and I planned on telling him just that. After my meeting with Lynette, I’d march right over to Devereux & Parker and tell him he could have the suit, but he couldn’t have me.

  However, when I entered Lynette’s office, I found I wouldn’t have to wait that long. Blaine was sitting in one of the two ergonomic office chairs in front of my friend’s thin, transparent modern desk.

  He turned his smoky grey eyes on me, tented his long, thick fingers in front of his square jaw. “Ms. Kitteridge. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

  I put a hand on my hip, wrinkled my nose, and blurted, “I wish I could say the same.”

  Lynette went into ‘smooth the tension and save the deal’ mode. “How about we take some coffee into the studio? I’m sure Katey would like to show you some design samples.”

  “No,” I retorted. The man instantly rankled me, and I couldn’t stop myself. “I have something to discuss with Mr. Devereux first.” I turned my focus on him, taking in that sensuous, pouty mouth, large eyes, cheek bones that weren’t too sharp but nicely defined. Steeling my resolve against his immaculate beauty, I continued. “I’ll design your suit, but there’s no way I’m going to live with you.”

  Not missing a beat, he slid from the chair like a sinuous snake and flashed an innocent look at Lynette, then at me. “But wouldn’t it make the haute couture so much easier? I can pay you all very well for the time, I assure you.”

  He was on his best behavior today, and it was unnerving. The Blaine I had heard about from many a source, jilted and otherwise, was never accommodating or compromising. When you had his kind of money, you didn’t need to be.

  I shook my head emphatically. “No way. I’m not living with you under any circumstances.”

  Lynette gave me that look that was part begging, part demanding. The woman knew how to persuade. She did what I thought of as her ‘faux pee dance.’ A shifting of hips back and forth that made it seem like she had to go to the bathroom, but really she was stressing the outcome and trying desperately to sway me.

  “Fine.” I huffed a defeated breath. “It shouldn’t take long to finish the job. I’ll stay with you until it’s complete.” When he smiled, letting the mask slip so I caught a glimpse of the predator beneath, I laid a firm hand on his equally firm chest and made him keep his distance. “But there will be rules, Mr. Devereux.”

  His wolf smile grew wider still, and the mask fell off. He took the hand from his chest and kissed it. “Of course, Ms. Kitteridge.”

  ***

  In the limo, three days later, on the ride to his country estate, he pinned me with those smoky eyes and said, “I get the distinct impression you don’t like me, Kitty, and yet we’ve never met.”

  I stared at his silk Armani tie rather than meeting those too penetrating eyes. “No one calls me Kitty.”

  He shrugged. “I do.”

  I crossed my arms over the polka-dot bodice of my spring dress. “That, right there, is why I don’t like you.”

  He quirked an eyebrow up. “You have a problem with self confidence?”

  “No,” I said. “But with dripping arrogance? Yeah, I’ve got a little problem with that.”

  He gave me a sideways smirk and chuckled. He leaned forward and put a hand on my knee. “We’ll have to agree to disagree on that one, sweetie.”

  “Don’t call me sweetie, either,” I snapped, brushing his hand away.

  He held his palms up in a gesture of surrender that surprised me. “Is this about the hating women thing?”

  I felt my face heat, and I covered it with one hand. “Lynette told you that?”

  He plucked some ice from a round chest in a mini bar in the back of the limo, plopped it in a glass, and poured amber colored scotch over the clear cubes. All the while, he smirked smugly at me. “You shouldn’t believe rumors and tabloid gossip columnists.” He took a sip.

  “Some of those rumors come from very good sources,” I countered, swatting an annoying strand of sable hair from my eyes.

  “Still, there are three sides to every story,” he said, moving from his seat across to sit by me on the opposite side of the stretch luxury car. “Yours, mine, and the truth.”

  He had me there, I thought, as he trailed a finger up my slender arm. “Touche.” Then I plucked the finger away and returned his smarminess with some of my own. “Hey, I thought you were gay?”

  He gave me a disapproving look and turned the table on me. “Is there anything wrong with that?”

  “Of course not,” I sputtered. “My brother’s gay, thank you very much. And I love his partner more than him, but that’s another story.”

  “No, I’m not gay, and I don’t hate women.” He shook his head and narrowed his eyes as he studied my face. I could tell he was reading me, looking for something, and his blatant perusal unsettled me. I could smell a hint of scotch on his breath. “Let me tell you where the misogyny charge comes from. I have a problem with anyone--male or female--who enters a relationship on false pretenses. In short, I don’t like people who marry for money. Gold diggers, if you will, disgust me.”

  His lips were inches from mine now, and they were far too kissable for my safety. “Some people don’t marry for love.” I shrugged, then tried to casually put some space between him and I by placing my shoulder purse there and subtly inching back. “Some make deals. To some people, it’s still a contract. A more mutually beneficial one these day, but I get it.”

  He wore a scathing expression that made him look like he was smelling really bad cheese. “Would you do such a thing?”

  “No, I prefer to be self sufficient, and I work hard to stay that way.” I maintained eye contact, not wanting to back down to his intimidation. “I don’t like to let anyone have too much power over me.”

  He nodded and his eyes narrowed further. I felt like a dare passed between us, and he’d just accepted the challenge.

  “But everyone’s different,” I continued. “I try not to judge. Who knows why someone chooses to go the route they do. Life can get complicated.”

  He kept staring, not wanting to break the eye contact and lose the challenge either. “Yes, I know that all too well.” His words held a cryptic air.

  I decided to change the subject. “So, why me?”

  “To
design the suit?”

  I nodded.

  The predatory, yet undeniably sexy, smile returned. “Because I plan on seducing you during your stay, Kitty. You see, you may not know me, but I’ve read all about you and your fast climb up the fashion world ladder.” The smooth pad of his thumb glided down my cheek. “I want to take you into my world. The suit you’re going to design is a very special suit, and in order to do it, you’ll need to experience every side of me fully.”

  ***

  Read an excerpt from a sizzling Wild & Lawless release Bound and Blindfolded by Anita Lawless.

  Bound & Blindfolded

  By Anita Lawless

  Ville and his band moved into our small city about two years ago. The people here average on insular and mistrustful. With their corpse paint and guttural vocals, Ville and crew were disliked from day one.

  However, when he walked into my antique and occult bookstore, I was intrigued. He asked if I had any books by an esoteric author who wrote lyrics for a Swedish metal band. The name was unfamiliar, but I told him I could order them in through connections. He gave a slow grin, like a cat uncurling from a warm lap.

  “Thank you,” he said, and so began our friendship.

  We talked philosophy, authors occult and otherwise, magick, music, and sex. But while we discussed everything from erotic rites to experimentation, I was still too much of a chicken to seduce him. The guy was intimidating after all. What with those yellow, feline contacts he wore. People kept a wide distance on sidewalks, thanks to his all black ensemble, tall, willowy frame, and slit pupils.

  Lately it seemed he played a sexual game with me. I got the feeling he wanted me to make a move, or that he was about to make one. But Ville was cunning and hard to read. Sometimes he toyed with people for fun. After two years of friendship, I felt I could trust him. Though he unnerved me with his unflappable calm, I couldn’t deny I was attracted to the man.

  Talking with him was easy enough, but the thought of being naked in front of those glowing eyes made me shiver.

  The tiny bell above my shop door rang. Coincidence raised goose bumps on my arms as Ville walked in. I rubbed my skin to hide the raised flesh.

  “I was just thinking about you.”

  “I know.” He wore a wolfish smile.

  I laughed. “You do not. That’s impossible.”

  He shook his head. Pulled a book from the case he’d been browsing. “Silly Emily. Always doubting, but still you like to dance on the edge of the unknown.”

  His eyes met mine. If I believed in a devil, I would’ve sworn Ville was his son. Even without contacts, his stare bore right through a person. As if he saw every stain, secret, and insecurity your mind held.

  While I stocked esoteric literature, it had been years since I really believed in any of that stuff. I called myself an agnostic pagan. I had my armchair theories about intent and energies, but they were only wild ramblings at best. Ville, though admittedly out of practice, could talk occult circles around me and all of his band mates.

  Shrugging, I looked away, hating myself for losing another stare down with him. My feeble lack of a comeback also annoyed me. But then my humor, always my failsafe, left Ville unfazed. I’d never heard him laugh or take offense to any of my sarcastic barbs. He’d just give that smug smile. Not condescending, but confident and breathtaking. Distracting him from an uncomfortable topic was impossible.

  “Denying it won’t make it go away.” He now read the book, but glided an inch closer to the counter.

  “Denying what?” My voice squeaked.

  “Your thirst for knowledge.” He snapped the book shut, and our noses were inches apart. “Sexual knowledge in particular.”

  I jumped at the loud thwack the heavy tome made.

  “For as long as I’ve known you,” he said, “you like to keep the occult close to you, but you’re too afraid to really immerse yourself in it.”

  “Bullshit.” I sighed, tried to sound aloof, walked to the other edge of the counter. “It’s just nostalgia for me these days. I have no real desire to peek into the unknown anymore.”

  “I think you lie.” He stood in front of me before I even noticed him move. I let out a shrill squeal that only added to my embarrassment.

  “I’m not in the mood for this today.” Rarely did I snap at him, but perhaps the growing heat in my pussy made me cranky.

  Why not be bold? I thought. Proposition him right now to sex on the counter. Flip the sign to closed and lock the door. But the sting of an old encounter made me hold back. A lover I thought I trusted, who tricked and betrayed me. Could I be so sure Ville wouldn’t do the same?

  “I think you are in the mood.” His long-fingered, pale hand coiled about my wrist. “That’s the problem. Been a while, hasn’t it? Denial, denial, and more denial.”

  His forehead touched mine. Our noses brushed over one another. I tried to breathe normal and glare. Tried to be angry at his endless challenges. But when I glanced up into that face, I felt as if I faked courage to keep the wolf from pouncing.

  “My sex life has nothing to do with the occult,” I whispered, because I didn’t have the air to manage more than that.

  “In some ways it does. We’ve talked about sex magic, sexual psychodrama, but why do we only talk, Emily? I think you deny yourself pleasure, release, also.”

  Backed into a corner, I summoned the courage, the words, to return his challenge. “I think this is all about you.” I poked a finger into his sinewy bicep. “More of your mind games. Play them with other people. Not with me.” Turning, I walked to the other edge of the counter to give myself some space.

  “I’d never toy with you.” Moments later, his breath tickled my ear with these words. “You’re one of the few people in this town who hasn’t shunned me and the others. That’s appreciated. Not that I care what those little-minded hicks think. They’re fodder. You’re a friend, and I don’t call many people that.”

  His arms slipped around my waist and he splayed his fingers over my stomach. Heat from his touch seeped through my thin t-shirt. The smell of cinnamon and spicy incense filled my nose, fanning the flames in my groin. As he kissed my temple, my nipples tingled and grew hard.

  “So why do you keep doing this to me lately?” I whispered.

  “Why do you think?” His lips softly brushed my cheek, trailing down my jaw line until he came to my neck, where he opened wider and softly bit the side of my throat. Then he sucked the skin deep into his mouth before pulling away. “You have a hard time seeing yourself as attractive. When you were a girl, people made you feel ugly, and you’re stuck in that frame of mind. I want to show you how beautiful you are… and I’d like to do that in many different ways.”

  He still held me, and with the warmth of his skin, his smell in my head, I couldn’t formulate a response. He pulled my t-shirt up to massage my bare stomach. Then his caress moved lower, slipping under the waistband of my jeans. My button flicked open and the zipper slid down. His long, lean fingers glided beneath my panties.

  “I thought you wanted to challenge me in all things esoteric?”

  For the first time, I heard him laugh. A low chuckle as his chin touched the top of my head. “That as well. As I said, there are many things I’d like to do to you and with you.”

  We’d talked about our fantasies. One in particular flooded my mind now, as his finger ground into my throbbing clit. A fantasy I would only act out with someone I trusted.

  He tugged my chin until I gazed at him, then teased my mouth with his sharp, white teeth.

  The fantasy involved total vulnerability. It scared me, the idea, but thrilled me as well. I wanted to be tied to a rack by hands and feet, blindfolded, and then let a Master have his way with me.

  His touch left my cunt, and his cool palms spread over my curvy hips. He slipped my jeans and panties down to my knees then whirled me around. I barely took a breath before his tongue and mouth devoured mine. I whimpered against his lips when he stroked my labia apart to lube hi
s fingers. He teased my throbbing hole then glided slippery digits back to my clitoris, where he rubbed as frantically as we kissed.

  He once more sucked and bit a path down my neck. Then he tore his mouth away long enough to tug my shirt over my head. He practically tore the bra from my tits. My creamy flesh and rosy nipples prickled from the cool air. I gasped when his hot tongue curled around the hardened bud. Arched my back when his teeth grazed the sensitive tip.

  Then he took his mouth away, straightened, but still played with my clitoris and wet pussy while he studied my reaction. “Friday night, you shut the shop early. Why not come play a game with me? Come see my dungeon.”

  My eyes widened. Pleasure coursed through my groin, made my cunt walls clench, my abdomen tighten. “How did you…know?”

  His smile showed those long, white teeth. “That you wanted the rack? Told you.” He paused as he slid two fingers in my cunt and stroked my g-spot. “I can see your thoughts.” He rested his forehead against mine. His free hand moved to my clit, pinching and rolling the pulsing flesh.

  “I … I still don’t believe that.” My eyes closed and further words failed me. My hips rocked into his finger fucking on instinct.

  “You mistake my meaning.” He dipped to his knees and nudged my legs wider apart. “I don’t need to peek into your mind. You give yourself away every time your voice squeaks. With every facial tick. Every time you clench your jaw. In how you respond to my touch. That’s how I know.”

  Before I had time to reply, his tongue flitted out over my clitoris. Then, quickly, his mouth closed around it. He drove me mad with a combination of rapid flicks and passionate sucking. Then he nibbled the aching flesh until I lost control, thrusting my cunt into his face while I trembled from head to toe.

  He slipped a third and fourth finger in my soaking pussy. His finger fucking matched the rhythm of his mouth. My pussy walls quivered harder as my g-spot absorbed the intense pounding. Juices seeped down my inner thighs. Climax jolted through my clitoris, and I mewled loudly as I twined both hands in his hair. My g-spot pulsed so strong it was almost painful. The deep orgasm teetered on explosion, just as he pulled his fingers out and stood.