Exposed to You (Overexposed) Read online

  “And you realized that you liked it. Or did you already know when I pleasured you the other night?”

  I didn’t respond, and he spanked me again.

  “Both! I guess I realized then but started to know for sure when I saw the picture.” I flushed with embarrassment at my confession, glad that he couldn’t see my face. I’d just admitted to him what I hadn’t been able to admit to myself.

  Dallon gently pulled my shorts back up and placed me between his legs so that I was kneeling before him. He pulled up my shirt just enough to expose my midriff and inserted a hand under the waistband of my shorts.

  “Time to find out.”

  I inhaled as his fingers slipped between my legs. A smile spread across his face. “You’re very wet. You liked that. Didn’t you, Amy?”

  I blushed crimson. My face had never felt so hot.

  “Didn’t you?”

  I nodded, biting my lip.

  He stopped touching me. “I want to hear you say it.”

  “I liked it,” I whispered. I didn’t want him to stop; I was beyond aroused and there was no point in denying it. When he leaned forward to kiss me, I returned it, kissing him deeply and moaning into his mouth. At that point, I would have admitted anything if he’d asked him. Would have done anything.

  He smiled and began stroking me again. “You’re so receptive to me. I love it.”

  I looked down and saw the bulge in his pants, and that just pushed me further. As the pleasure grew, I leaned forward and pressed my mouth against his shoulder, stifling my moans as I shuddered into my climax.

  * * *

  Dallon trailed his fingers along my legs before taking my right foot in his hand and beginning to rub it. I was lying on the couch with my legs resting on his lap, my body still humming. I was in way over my head and I knew it; Dallon had just found a way to make me admit what I hadn’t wanted to admit to anyone. There was no hiding now.

  “Do you feel more relaxed now that the truth is out and everything is okay?”

  I nodded. It was kind of freeing to have given in and admitted it to myself.

  “Good,” Dallon smiled, picking up my other foot.

  I watched him work away at my arch, a small smile on his face. His touch was amazing, and my thoughts wandered to what else he might be pro at. It was obvious that Dallon had experience with satisfying a woman. He was so experienced; he could read me better than I could read myself.

  I wished I knew as much about him.

  “So, your fantasy woman—the one that looks like me—that’s your… type,” I said, trying to sound casual.

  He shrugged. “I guess so.”

  “Why? I mean—why that look?”

  He smiled with one side of his mouth. “I’ve thought about that. I think it’s because I’m looking for something opposite to myself. I’m large—almost six foot four—and dark. I want small and light.”

  I didn’t respond and he took another sip of his wine, this time sounding sad or bitter, I couldn’t tell which. “An angel to my devil, perhaps.”

  “That sounds deep.” I was still tipsy and suddenly tired, struggling to keep my eyes open after the earlier events. “Do you see yourself as a devil?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Because you like to spank women?”

  He laughed, but it sounded sad. He ran a finger up my leg again and shivered under his touch. “Because I like to control women.”

  I tried to stifle a yawn and failed miserably. “But why?”

  He sighed. “I appreciate your willingness to discuss with me, Miss Clair, but we’re heading into territory that should probably wait for another day. I don’t want to make you run when I’ve finally made progress, and you need to go to bed. It’s late.”

  Dallon moved my legs off his lap and bent over to pick me up. He carried me to his bed, pulled back the covers and placed me down. When he put the covers on me, they felt as heavy as my eyelids, which I could no longer keep open.

  “Sleep well, Amy,” he said and kissed me on the forehead.

  Chapter Eleven

  When I awoke the next morning, it took me a minute to remember where I was.

  I was in a large bed with a dark red duvet and brown sheets. I sat up and looked around the room. It was sparsely decorated with a leather reading chair and a dresser. From my vantage point, I could see a large closet and beside it, a bathroom.

  Instead of putting me to bed in the guestroom, Dallon had put me in his bed.

  I peeled back the covers and tip-toed into the bathroom, my jaw nearly hitting the floor. All I noticed was marble: marble floors, marble counters, marble shower. The floor was warm beneath my feet. There was a note on the counter and a robe and towel folded beside it. I walked over and picked up the note.

  “Amy, feel free to shower and use this robe.”

  Dallon must have written it and left it there last night. I glanced at his shower. It was large with multiple dials and a bench—much nicer than the shower/tub combination in my apartment. I’d cleaned it a million times but was still tempted to wear sandals when I used it.

  I stripped down, turned on the water and stepped in, exhaling with pleasure when the warm water hit my skin. A washcloth was folded on the bench. Dallon had thought of everything, and it was hard not to be impressed. I washed my face and then tried pushing the different buttons, shrieked when a cloud of mist shot out around me. Next, I shampooed my hair, lathering it around until the entire space smelled like Vanilla.

  A long time later—I’d guess a half hour—I finally forced myself to get out. I toweled myself down and pulled on the robe. Then I ran a brush through my hair so that it would dry straight.

  When I stepped out of his room, Dallon was in the kitchen and the smell of bacon wafted toward me. He was just showered as well and wearing a black, long sleeved shirt with the first few buttons undone. When I walked toward him, he glanced up and smiled. “Enjoyed your shower? I heard you singing.”

  Oh no. I hadn’t realized I’d been singing. I smiled down at my feet as I climbed onto the stool in front of the breakfast bar. “You have a nice shower.”

  “I do.” He added after a beat, “The one in the guest bathroom is nice too.”

  The guest bathroom was probably that one that would have been mine, if I’d accepted his job offer. The thought made me uncomfortable so I changed the subject to the food. “I love bacon.”

  “I’m glad,” he smiled broadly. “Did you sleep well?”

  “Very. I think I was out when my head hit the pillow.”

  “You were. I changed and grabbed a pair of clothes for today, and you didn’t move an inch.”

  I smiled and looked down, secretly disappointed that I hadn’t been able to sneak a glance at him changing.

  “You didn’t sneak out in the middle of the night this time,” he said with a half-smile.

  “No, I didn’t.”

  He made his way around the breakfast bar until he was standing in front of me. “So does that mean you’re not going to run anymore?” He said it like it was a joke, but I could sense the need behind it.

  “I don’t think there’s a point anymore.”

  “Because I will continue to pursue you?”

  “Because you already have me,” I said softly. “There’s no point in trying to pretend otherwise.”

  He grinned, picked a grape from the bowl on the counter, tossed it into his mouth. “So you’ve realized I’m not all that bad.”

  “You can be all right when you want to be.”

  He placed his hands on my knees and leaned down so that his face was inches across from mine. “I can be very nice when I want to be. With people I care about.”

  “Exactly,” I whispered. His hands were pushing my legs open and I wasn’t wearing anything underneath my robe. I was pretty sure that if he glanced down, he would see everything.

  Instead, he kissed my nose and stood, walked back around to his side of the breakfast bar. “Would you like a glass of orange juice?�
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  “Yes, please,” I answered, my legs shaking.

  “Do you remember much of last night?” he asked while he filled our glasses, mercifully facing away from me.

  “I think so.”

  He turned around and placed a glass in front of me. “And again you didn’t run, Miss Clair. I’m impressed.”

  I took a sip, my heart rate accelerating. In actuality, I hadn’t remembered that part of the night until he’d asked me. Maybe I’d wanted to block it out, or maybe I was hoping he had been as drunk as well and had forgotten.

  I watched as he scooped eggs onto two plates half covered in fruit. He placed the bacon in front of me, picked up our plates and came around the bar to sit beside me. I instantly began eating the fruit, grateful to have something healthy inside of me after last night. I hadn’t had that much to drink since I’d graduated.

  “I assume you don’t work today, so we can continue our discussion after we eat,” he said, forking a strawberry.

  “I don’t work at the café, no.” I took a deep breath. “But it’s my first day at Mix.”

  Dallon stopped chewing. He swallowed, put his fork down on his plate carefully and wiped his mouth before speaking. “I thought we discussed how I feel about Mix.”

  “You said that you don’t want me working there. There was no discussion.”

  He looked at me sharply. “Now that we’re dating, I thought you’d respect my wishes.”

  “We’re dating?”

  I knew it was the wrong thing to say the moment I said it. Dallon swiveled in his stool to face me. “I thought last night cemented that. Or do you make a habit of fooling around without dating?”

  I glared at him and put my fork down too. “No, I don’t. I told you, I’m not that kind of girl.”

  “Then what is it—are we dating or not?”

  “I don’t know. Before you wanted me to be your employee and now you want to date. Why the change of heart?”

  He sighed. “I realized I had to change my expectations in order to have you. It’s called compromise, Amy.”

  “You said you don’t date.”

  “I don’t.”

  “But you want to date me.”

  “You catch on quickly,” he said dryly.

  I glared at him until his lip twitched and then punched him lightly, smiling in spite of myself.

  He took my hands in his, tugging gently so that I was turned to face him, our legs entwined. “I don’t want to play any more games, Amy.”

  I nodded, biting my lip. I didn’t want to play any more games either. They were exhausting.

  “So are we going to try this or not? If you say yes, we can discuss last night or just spend the day together, whichever you want. But I will not want you to work at Mix. I’ve not had a girlfriend in ages and I do not like to share.”

  His thumbs stroked the back of my hands in gentle circles, and my pulse quickened. He looked at me pointedly before continuing. “If you say no, I’ll understand and won’t stand in your way, but I won’t ask again.”

  My throat went dry. He wouldn’t ask again. Suddenly, I realized how much I wanted Dallon in my life. But I didn’t have a choice.

  “I need that job,” I said softly. “I told Michelle I was quitting for another job, and she said she was going to call someone else to take my place.”

  “I see.”

  Panic swelled like a balloon in my chest, but I tried to keep my voice steady. “It won’t be that bad, Dallon. It’s just a job.”

  His jaw tightened. “Not to me. So what’s your answer? Would you like to date me or not?”

  Of course I do, I wanted to say without any hesitation, but he wasn’t hearing me. “I need a job to pay my rent, and I no longer have my job at the café.”

  He smiled wryly. “It’s a yes or no question, Miss Clair. If you agree to try, you have to trust me that it will work out.”

  “How?” I asked in a small voice, hoping against hope that his solution wouldn’t be the modeling position in another form.

  “Let me help you. I can cover you for a month—loan you money—until you get on your feet.”

  “I don’t know how long it will take.”

  “Then move in here. Temporarily,” he added, putting his hands up. “Save rent money.”

  I sighed and shook my head, pulling my hands away. “I already told you—I won’t work for you, Dallon.”

  “I didn’t mean that.”

  I looked back into his eyes and could tell he was being honest; he really just wanted me around and to help me out. The knowledge sent both a thrill and a chill through me.

  “That’s crazy. We barely know each other.”

  “You can even live in the guestroom for now, if you’re not ready to share a bed,” he smirked.

  “That’s very generous of you, but I don’t think so,” I said, laughing it off.

  “What’s the worse than can happen?”

  He was smiling his charming smile, like he really didn’t understand the enormity of what he was asking. I had to admit, part of me was totally intrigued with the idea; the part that wanted to be reckless instead of cautious Amy, that was in love with his home and undeniably intrigued by the man in front of me. But it was a fairytale.

  I looked down at my lap. “I could get used to living here and nothing else could compare. Then when it falls apart, I’ll be the one that suffers; I won’t have a home.”

  “You make it sound like it’s inevitable,” he said with a low growl.

  I shrugged.

  This seemed to anger him more. “You think I’d just keep you to the curb without helping you find somewhere else to live? That’s ridiculous, Amy. I care about you.”

  “What you’re asking isn’t… normal,” I stammered.

  He laughed harshly. “Did I ever claim to be normal, Amy? No. I told you last night that I am very far from normal. I thought you’d figured that out the day we met.”

  I closed my eyes, the memory of last night’s conversation at the front of my mind. “You said that you like to control women in bed.”

  A muscle in his cheek twitched. “Yes.”

  “But this doesn’t have anything to do with that?”

  He looked at me steadily. “Of course it does.”

  I made a shocked noise. “And you don’t think there’s something wrong with asking me to give up a serving job and move in instead?”

  He shrugged, unashamed. “It’s what I want, and I always get what I want.”

  I sighed. Dallon King was the most frustrating and arrogant person I’d ever met. “You’re basically asking me to be your mistress.”

  He smirked. “I’m an old fashioned man, Miss Clair.”

  “But see I’m not an old fashioned woman.”

  “Too bad, because back in the day women often worked as muses.” He sucked gently on my earlobe before whispering in my ear: “I’d love you to be my muse.”

  I pulled away again. “Back in the day women needed men to support them. They didn’t have much of a choice, and they did a lot of things they didn’t want to do.”

  Dallon sat back and raised an eyebrow. “Is that what you’re afraid of, being indebted to me? You think that if I let you live here while you figure out what you’re meant to do, I’ll expect you to return the gesture with sexual favors?”

  I shifted uncomfortably. “I’m afraid of being dependent on you.”

  “See, and that’s exactly what I want of you, Miss Clair,” he whispered, leaning forward again to press his forehead to mine. “I want you to look to me for support and to respect me. I also want to spoil you; it’s how I show I care.”

  I frowned. “That sounds more like I’d be your child.”

  Dallon pulled back, a look of disgust on his face. “Would I want to fuck my child, Miss Clair?”

  I flinched at the harshness of the word. “Is that what you want? To fuck me?”

  “I’ve wanted that since the day I met you. Right now that’s especially what I want to d
o, and hard. You’re managing to press all my angry buttons.”

  I swallowed. Apparently Dallon was done sugar coating everything. “By asking me to give up a job and move in, you don’t just want to control me in bed.”

  He waved his hand around. “Everything is all messed up with you. The lines between real life and sex are blurred. I want it all.”

  His confession shocked me. I entwined my fingers, struggling to believe I was actually hearing this, that he could be so brazen. Everything in my body was telling me to run, that Dallon was a loose cannon and potentially dangerous, but I stayed put.

  “Eat your breakfast,” he said, spinning in his seat to face his plate again.

  Chapter Twelve

  I felt like I’d just tumbled through the rabbit hole.

  Dallon had admitted what he wanted, and even though a large part of it freaked me out, I also respected that he wasn’t afraid to voice it. His desires were against society; men that wanted to control women were thought of as chauvinists or borderline rapists. Women that let themselves be controlled—or wanted to be controlled—were anti-feminist or sluts. These were the thoughts running through my mind as I finished the last bite of my breakfast and Dallon disappeared, only to return with a box wrapped in silver paper.

  “I have a present for you,” he said, passing me the box.

  I took it gingerly. “What is it?”

  “That’s not how it works.”

  Feeling nervous with his eyes on me, I unwrapped the present. It was a brand new iPhone 5. I looked up at him with surprise. “You bought me an iPhone?”

  He smiled. “I went out and got it this morning. I also added you to my plan so that you can check your emails,” he added with a wink.

  I pulled it out of the box, admiring how sleek it was. I’d never had an iPhone before, but I’d always wanted one. I’d always wanted a white one, too.

  “Do you like it?”

  I looked up again to see his smiling face, and I couldn’t bring myself to tell him that he couldn’t give it to me. “It was very nice of you, but you didn’t have to do it.”

  “I know. I wanted to. Remember what I said about wanting to spoil you?”