by Emma Roberts
This level of arousal was only reserved for dark, sweaty dreams where I could reach the precipice of climax but never topple over it.
Jace sat across from me at the dining table, tucking into the Coq au vin like he hadn't just been preparing to finger me five minutes before.
There was a part of me -- and it was terrifying to admit how large a part of me it was -- that wanted him to continue his exploration, part my folds, and slip two fingers inside of me. The assurance that radiated off of him was captivating. It was like he owned my pussy, and he knew it.
Insanely, I wanted him to own it.
“Eat.” He made the word a command. Of course he did. I didn’t think this man knew how to do anything but boss people around. There was a crackling aura of power that surrounded him. “You’re going to need your strength for what I have planned for you.”
“What if I’m not hungry?”
“Then I’ll take you to the playroom and fuck you until you work up an appetite.”
My hips bucked of their own accord in response to his words. I was seriously beginning to question my sanity at this point. He said he'd help me out no matter what I did, so why was I planning to subject myself to this?
I obediently scooped up a spoonful and popped it into my mouth. The savory flavor had a slight bite to it that zinged like fire across my tongue. The warmth was unexpectedly welcome, and I found that I was more hungry than I'd realized.
"This is amazing."
"It was prepared by a professional chef. I call him in for special occasions. I like to have the best of everything."
"Then why do you want me?" The question slipped out again before I could stop it, and uncharacteristic shame brought heat to my cheeks.
"I want to control you because you clearly cannot be trusted to do so for yourself."
All of the warmth I’d felt from his attention drained out of me in an instant. I was pretty sure it would have hurt less if he'd kicked me in the stomach.
"Maybe I should go."
He caught my wrist as I pushed away from the table.
"Sit down," he commanded in a tone that brokered no argument. I sat down, slumping like a sullen teenager into my seat. He raked me with his gaze once before shaking his head.
"I'm not putting the onus of that on you. Someone really ought to have gotten a better handle on you before now. And since your father cannot seem to rein you in, it's time for Daddy to finally show you how proper discipline works."
I let out a breathless little chuckle when he finally released me. "I bet you say that to all of the girls."
His expression closed off, and I wondered exactly what I'd said wrong. I studied his face as if I really needed an excuse to do so. His jaw was strong and square, and I'd been itching to run my nails across it all night. His long nose was straight and narrow, his mouth was full, and his eyes were an electric shade of blue that contrasted enticingly with his closely cropped black hair. The waves looked feather-soft, and I wondered for an instant if he'd let me touch it. I'd probably have to ask permission from the jerk.
Jace finally cleared his throat. "I don't usually bring my subs here, so no, I don't say that to all of the girls. My last few play partners I met at parties in the lifestyle, and they already knew what they wanted. One of them was annoyingly persistent at pursuing me and couldn’t follow orders, so I eventually abandoned casual arrangements. I haven't really had the pleasure of training someone since my wife April passed."
His voice caressed the woman's name gently, and an unspeakable tenderness softened his chiseled features for just a moment. My chest felt suddenly clammy, my gut clenched, and the raging arousal that had kept me in a vice grip slid away. I had to swallow past a tight, hard knot in my throat.
Envy danced like a green-eyed goblin in my gut. I hadn't felt like this since college, when my bitch of a roommate had stolen the meathead jock I'd been dating right out from under me. It hadn't been that much of a loss, but damn it, he'd been mine. I was Whitney Farbridge. I didn't feel jealousy. People were envious of me, not the other way around.
But in that instant, I would have given up just about anything I owned to have Jace say my name with the same amount of tenderness. It was clear that he still loved his dead wife like crazy. How on earth was I going to compete with that?
"I want to be trained," I breathed. My mouth ran ahead of my brain, carrying a torch for him I really had no right to be holding. "I want to make you happy, sir."
A sunny smile transformed his already handsome face into something absolutely radiant. He gave me one approving nod, and my eyes pricked with the sudden desire to cry. I couldn't believe I was getting myself twisted into knots over this guy so quickly. If I wasn't careful, I'd drive him off, just like I’d done with every other guy I’d dated.
"Good." His voice was a throaty purr that reignited the ache between my thighs with a vengeance. "We'll start simple then. Eat."
The rest of the meal passed too slowly. There were three other courses and a dessert. I sincerely hoped every meal at his home wasn’t like this. There was no way that even my extensive cardio routine would be able to keep up with that many carbs.
Jace stood, and I marveled again at just how tall he was. He had to be well over six feet. Six and a half, maybe? I wasn't used to feeling miniature. I was a little over average height and could dwarf some men in heels. Jace offered me a hand, and I took it. He tucked me under one arm, and the hot press of his body made my knees go weak. He chuckled, scooping me up before I could hit the floor.
He ducked his head and brought his lips to my ear. Hot breath fanned across my cheek.
"As much as I'd like to see you on your knees, I don't think the kitchen staff want us to do this in here."
"We could lock the doors. I can think of a few uses for the extra hot fudge."
Jace's chuckle was the aural equivalent of a good, hot kiss at this range. "Don't be a brat. We're going to the playroom, and that's final. Let the kitchen staff do their jobs."
He kept his arm slung around my waist even as we left the dining room. He led me down a long, high-ceilinged hall with ivory walls and beautiful crown molding. Light poured from chandeliers that hung at regular intervals. I resisted the urge to run my fingers along the mahogany tables and the crystal baubles on them. If I played my cards right, I was going to get a chance to explore this place in further detail tomorrow.
To my surprise, Jace led me up a flight of spiral stairs that deposited us on a landing covered in ice blue carpet.
"We're we going to your sex dungeon, right?"
He curled me a little closer to his side. "Yes, Whitney. We're going to my sex dungeon."
"Then why are we going up?" I gripped the polished banister for emphasis. "Isn't the Batcave downstairs?"
Jace's laugh was too loud at this proximity, causing me to wince. He let go of me for a moment and actually bent double to laugh at me.
"My Batcave? Did you seriously just call my playroom a Batcave?"
"And so what if I did?" I raised my chin defiantly. "What are you going to do about it? Spank me?"
The aura of intense power that clung to Jace like a heady musk intensified, and he suddenly grabbed my ass and hauled me closer so that I could feel the erection that pressed hot and thick against the front of his dress pants. My breath caught as his pole wedged between my cheeks. I had never felt anything so big before.
"So hard you'll be red for a week," he promised. "After we've set some rules, you'll want to watch your tongue. If you don't, I'll punish you."
That sensual threat made my breath catch and my back arch. Suddenly, a hand fisted in my hair, and his lips brushed my throat. I squirmed.
"Stay still."
But that was impossible. Every nerve was on fire. The backless dress allowed me to feel the hard planes of his chest all the more acutely against my oversensitized skin. Jace's fingers wound into my hair, and he jerked my head back. It should have hurt, but it just sent a wave of molten desire through me
so fiercely I was surprised I didn't completely collapse. Jace's teeth grazed my neck, drawing a whimper from me.
"Stay. Still."
I locked my knees, forcing myself to stay upright, and straightened out so that he was pressed flat against my back. Tremors still ran through me at odd intervals, but I kept myself as still as was humanly possible against him.
"Good girl," he praised. The grip on my hair loosened, and I blew out a breath I hadn't realized I'd been holding. The ache between my legs was almost painful. Any other woman would probably have slapped him for that little case of manhandling. But I wanted more.
My entire body felt cold when he stepped away from me. He gave me a light swat on the ass, and I stumbled forward a step, catching myself on the banister before my weak legs could fail me.
"Upstairs."
The carpet on the landing was so thick my heels almost entirely sank into it. "I'm going to have to remove the heels," I muttered. "Walking on this stuff with them on is going to be a nightmare."
"Don't. Leave them on. I want you in them and nothing else. I think they'd look fetching wrapped around my head, don't you agree?"
Oh. My. God. My panties were already going to be ruined, and his words certainly weren't helping. The image of his mouth on me was almost too much to bear.
"I thought you didn't do stuff like that," I breathed. "Isn't that submissive?"
He stroked the fall of my hair once, twining one dirty blonde strand around his finger idly. "Part of my job as your dominant will be to see that you are taken care of. An unhappy sub is a disobedient sub. And I do not consider it a submissive act."
His fingers skimmed the front of my dress again, and this time, he pressed one finger inside of me. My pussy clenched, trying to keep the digit inside of me. He hissed a little when he felt how wet I was. He leaned in to whisper into my ear once more. "Your little cunt is mine. I will do with it as I please."
He withdrew his finger and popped it into his mouth, licking it clean. My cheeks flamed.
"You taste like peaches, baby girl. And I want another dessert."
Then, faster than I could process it, he swept my legs out from beneath me. My head whipped back, and I probably would have hit the wall if he hadn't braced a hand behind my back. He swept me up into his arms as if I weighed next to nothing. He cradled me to his chest as my legs dangled out in the open air.
"To keep your pretty shoes from snagging in the carpet," he explained with a wolfish smile.
"Baby girl?" I panted. "Is that what you're going to call me?"
"Unless you want something else? April liked to be called princess."
The jealousy was back again in full force. It felt silly to be so jealous of his late wife. She was dead. It wasn't as if I was living with the knowledge he was married and I wasn't his one and only. But she still felt very real and present to me. I had enough competition for his attention without reenacting the erotic adventures he'd had with his wife.
"Baby girl is fine."
He strode down the hall with a sure, confident gait. He didn't stop until we reached the last door on the right. The door looked like any of the others, with the exception that the brass handle looked worn from repeated use. Just how often had he and his wife been in here?
He withdrew a key carefully from his pocket and slotted it into the lock. The sound of the mechanism turning had my heart thundering in my ears. This was it.
He turned the knob and opened the door. I peered inside cautiously and was caught off-guard by what I saw.
With a few exceptions, it looked like a trendy lounge. There were a couple of light brown couches situated around a coffee table. A couple pieces of modern art were hung on the walls. Instead of the red or black I sometimes saw in pictures or films, the walls of this playroom were painted a bright, inviting cream color. A large canopy bed with wrought-iron posts dominated one corner.
It was the equipment that jarred me out of the pleasant, welcoming feeling of the place. There was a Saint Andrew's cross in the corner opposite the bed. A rack stood in the middle of the room and contained all manner of paddles and floggers, even a coiled whip. I shivered at the thought of that thing striking my back.
A couple of benches were placed strategically around the room, along with something that was clearly meant to suspend me by my arms.
Two of the walls in the room were made up of glass. They offered a view of Rochester, glittering like a diamond in the distance, and closer than that, the woods that flanked Jace's home. I stiffened.
"People will see us."
"It's smart tint. I can change the opacity at any time, and I will when you and I are playing. Unless voyeurism is your thing, baby girl?"
I wrapped my arms around his neck and pressed my face into his chest rather than let him see just how uncomfortable that thought made me. "No thank you."
"Shame. That's what the couches are for. Occasionally, April liked an audience."
Would he stop mentioning her name? Wasn't this night supposed to be about me? Didn't he want to fuck me? The more he talked, the more I was sure that no matter what he said, I was just a second-hand consolation prize to him.
"Put me down."
He didn't argue. He just set me on my feet. The carpet here was beige and much more manageable to navigate in heels. He gave me one long look of appreciation before he turned and swung the door shut. It clicked into place with ringing finality. I was here. This was finally happening.
"Take off your dress."
I'd been itching to do so all night, but now that he'd compared me to his wife for the third time in one evening, I was feeling a little less willing to cooperate.
"I thought it was just vanilla sex for tonight," I reminded him. "I think a little give and take is in order, don't you think, Daddy?"
An illicit thrill shot through me as my mouth wrapped around the title. It was a taboo that had been drilled into me since childhood, and it felt like I was doing something wrong by calling him that. But God did it feel good to be bad.
A muscle flexed in his jaw, and I would have thought him angry with me if humor wasn't dancing in his gorgeous blue eyes. The depth of them shocked me. It was like he could peer into my very soul and, unlike everyone else, he liked what he saw there.
Jace shrugged off his suit jacket and let it fall carelessly to the floor. "Give and take, baby girl. You go next.”
A familiar wash of irritation shot through me. This was just like playing strip poker with my boyfriend in college. Men always wore many more layers than I did. I undid the latch on my bracelet and let it fall to the floor. Jace began to undo the buttons on his vest with mesmerizing slowness. When he finished, it joined the jacket on the floor.
I glanced down at my heels and frowned. He'd told me to keep them on. So that only left one thing left for me to remove. I spun on one heel so that I faced the bed and then glanced coyly over my shoulders.
"Could you help me with my zipper, Daddy?"
He made a low, feral sound in the back of his throat that I could only call a growl. He stepped closer to me and swept my hair over one shoulder. It tickled my chin, but that wasn't what had me shivering. He braced one big hand on my waist as the other found the latch that kept the tracks together. Then he began to pull the zipper down. The rasp of my zipper sounded incredibly loud. He slid it down slowly until he reached the end, just above my ass. Rough, calloused hands parted the fabric, and the garment slid over my shoulders and down my body with a whisper of silk.
"Your hands are rough. I didn't expect that."
"I work with a lot of rope."
He stepped back from me only long enough to shrug off his shirt.
"Get on that bench," he ordered, nodding toward the faux-leather furniture that I'd noticed earlier.
"But I still have the bra and panties to go."
"On the bench. Now."
I wasn't going to argue with him. Not when his voice came out husky and demanding like that. I crossed over to the bench and laid do
wn on my back. If he wanted me some other way, then he was going to have to flip me over. I wasn't sure my legs were going to support me for much longer anyway.
The surface felt cool and very nice against my overheated skin.
Jace entered my field of vision, and I could only stare. I'd known he was built. I'd felt his bulk against me. I'd seen hints of it when his well-tailored suit moved against him as he walked. But seeing his body was another thing entirely.
He had muscles where I'd never seen them. His shoulders were broad and strong, and his waist narrowed to a sharp and compelling V. And his abs. God, his abs. Oil him up, and he would be at home on the cover of any swimsuit catalog. He was mostly hairless, and my attention was distracted for about three point five seconds, wondering if he waxed. Only a little happy trail of dark hair had been left intact. I wanted to lick down that trail and play when I got to its end.
"Part your legs," he instructed. Wordlessly, I did as I was told. He let out a groan. "Touch yourself."
I hesitated. "I...I don't do that."
"Don't tell me you're a virgin. I'll have to spank you for not mentioning something that crucial."
"Virgin? God no. But...most of my boyfriends never..."
Most of them never cared. A lot of them hadn't even looked down there before they’d slotted their favorite body part into me, whether or not I was ready. More often than not, I'd found myself gritting my teeth for the first few minutes of fucking.
Jace hummed thoughtfully. Then he got on his knees next to the bench and braced his hands on my thighs. A lifetime's worth of porn couldn't have prepared me for exactly how sexy that image was. He chuckled when my hips gave an involuntary roll under his touch.
"So eager. Here's what I'm going to do, baby girl. I'm going to take off these panties, and then I'm going to show you a good time. How does that sound?"
