Driven By Fate(17)

His hips slowed. A warning. “Francesca…”

“Yes, my lord,” she all but shouted. “No other doors.”

Her vision went black after that, the overflowing of sensation commanding all her attention. Porter’s ferocious drives were delivered so fast and precise, it took her mere seconds to climax. Although “climax” didn’t do the moment justice. She was catapulted from the room. She soared, flesh rippling in endless spasms between her legs. All the while, she screamed into the abyss, never wanting to come out again. The hardness inside her became the focal point of her universe as Porter rammed himself deep one final time, coming with a yell.





Chapter Seven


Not the plan. This hadn’t been the plan.

Porter tried to regulate his breathing as Francesca’s body drooped against him. She was shaking, her forehead flush with his shoulder. His cock still pulsed inside of her, even though he’d just spent himself in extraordinary f*cking fashion. His body wanted round two when his mind hadn’t quite wrapped itself around round one. Not the plan.

Sex for him was ruthlessly efficient. It never got emotional or messy or possessive. However, he was fairly sure he’d just demanded she never go to another man. Ever. While this odd jealous streak wouldn’t exactly allow him to take back the command, he was starting to question his sanity.

Leading a solitary life worked for him. He’d been proficient in doing so since age eight, when his career-driven parents had deemed him responsible enough that they could fire the nanny. He’d moved to a different country and emerged himself in the fascinating world of rare antiques so he could continue in the same vein until his time away from London expired. Okay, fascinating was a stretch when it came to antiques. But it was safe, would be easy to walk away from, when the time came. Exactly what he required—a life he could leave behind with zero difficulty.

Having enlisted in the army after two long years of studying at Oxford, then building his security firm following his military service, he’d never had time for anything serious with a woman. His affairs were limited to one, sometimes two, mutually agreed upon encounters before they went their separate ways. Clubs, such as Serve, had aided him in maintaining an impersonal distance in the past and he’d simply continued in that manner, never seeing a reason to muddle his efficient routine. The cut and dried nature of it suited him. Rules, limits, plans. His three favorite words.

It was common for a man to form…an attachment to a particular woman, right? A submissive, specifically. Perhaps that’s what was taking place now. He’d invited her to his home, his office, two very unusual actions for him. And now? He didn’t want her to go home just yet. Normally, he’d perform the required aftercare, talk to the woman long enough to ascertain if she felt comfortable with what they’d done. Then he’d separate himself from the situation. This was not that. This time, there had been more. Had he found his first permanent submissive? Yes, it seemed he had.

First things first.

“Francesca.”

She mumbled something unintelligible against his shoulder.

Porter cleared his throat. “I realize that you don’t quite like me, which is entirely your right.” When she looked up at him, all drowsy and questioning, he almost lost his train of thought. “I’m hoping we can work on that, however. Surely, I’m not all bad.”

Her lopsided smile caused a boom in his chest, a cannon being fired. “You can start by unbuckling me from the post.”

“Right.” Porter didn’t bother containing his groan as he slid his cock from inside her heat. Jesus, she was hot, dangerous perfection. He needed more soon. Very f*cking soon. He started to circle the pillar to loosen the leather, but she felt so good up against him, he meshed their bodies together and performed the task blind, reaching behind her to unbuckle the belt. “I need you longer than one day.”

Her breath washed over his chest. “I was afraid of that.”

Knowing her equilibrium would be off, he released her arms and immediately pulled her close. “Clarify that statement, please,” he spoke into her hair.

She remained silent a moment, too long for him. “I want more than one day, too. But I wanted you to tell me no.”

“You are an utter bafflement, Francesca.”

“Monocle.” She yawned and the sound was oddly comforting. “I guess I wanted you to tell me that curiosity killed the cat. To send me home where I should be.”

“I don’t want you to go home.” His voice had risen, so he brought it down a notch. Scaring the girl would do nothing to achieve his end. “Well, I suppose you could go home, but I’m going to need you to come back tomorrow.”

She continued as if he hadn’t spoken. “This started out as an experiment, but it has to stop somewhere, doesn’t it? This…” Her gaze fell to the belt in his hand. “I like it too much.”

For some reason, he dropped the belt. His impulse dictated he haul her into his arms and carry her to his bedroom, just to see what she looked like in his bed. He sensed she was on the verge of making a decision, though. About him. This. He couldn’t very well vocalize his intention to keep her around until he figured out how deep this fascination ran, could he? “What was the goal of your experiment, if not to like it?”

“Good question.” She rubbed her lips over his collarbone. “I had these fantasies. All the time. I thought maybe if I acted on them, it would appease something in me.”