by Ivy Nelson
As the motor roared to life, his hand twisted in her hair and pulled hard enough to hurt. It was a nice hurt though as he jerked her head to face him.
“I thought we talked about you and that tongue. Stick it out at me again, and all you’ll get is a face fucking and a spanking when we get home.
She gasped. That was hot, she thought. But she could tell he was serious which made her even more turned on. Turned on enough that she was now fully committed to his game. His hand was still fisted in her hair, pulling, so she looked him in the eye as she whimpered, “Yes, Sir. I’m sorry.”
He grinned, the kind of grin that would have melted her panties had she been wearing any and let go of her hair. “Good girl. Now start playing with yourself. I want you soaked by the time we get home.”
• • •
Giggles filled the hallway of Peter’s apartment building as he hauled Carrie to his door, only setting her down long enough to unlock it. Once inside, he picked her up again and brought her to his bedroom where he dumped her on the bed.
“Clothes off. Now.” He was already busy shedding his t-shirt and jeans.
When she was naked, he flipped her onto her stomach. “On your knees, baby,” he said. “I want to see that gorgeous ass in the air.”
He hadn’t taken her from behind yet and he was going to enjoy plunging his rigid cock into her while his fingers dug into her hips. A groan escaped him just thinking about it.
Wasting no further time, he put his hands on her back and dragged her closer to the edge of the bed. Since she had spent the entire twenty-plus minute ride home fingering herself, she was fucking soaked and didn’t need any preparation, but he dragged his hands along her glistening slit anyway and shoved two fingers deep inside her. Her pussy clenched around his fingers and she let out a strangled cry. An orgasm was hovering seconds away and he knew it.
“You were a good girl today,” he said, dragging his fingers almost completely out of her. “Should I let you come, or should I just fuck you and put you to bed?” he asked and plunged his fingers deep again.
“Please,” she whimpered. “Please, please, please.”
A low rumble of a laugh shook him, and his thumb found her clit. “Since you asked so nicely, come.”
Seconds later, she collapsed flat onto the bed as the orgasm rocketed through her. With his free hand, he smacked her ass, hard. “Back in position little girl. I didn’t tell you to move.” She quickly crawled back onto her hands and knees while he continued to pump his fingers in and out of her.
When she was back in place, he withdrew his hand completely and grabbed the condom he had dropped on the bed next to her and rolled it on. In one swift movement, he was inside her to the hilt. Then he pulled back and drove into her again, pulling her hips toward him as he did. She cried out at the force of his thrust, so he did it again. She clamped around him like a vice and he knew she was going to fall off the cliff again soon. He would go with her. Increasing his speed and force, he began to pound into her mercilessly, the sound of her painfully pleasured cries fueling him on.
Minutes later, they both found their release and collapsed onto the bed.
“Jesus fuck. What are you doing to me?” she asked when her breathing had regulated.
“I could ask you the same question,” he said as his finger trailed down her neck and shoulder.
Carrie sat up then and looked at him. “I’m serious Peter. I’m not submissive but the last few days have been… hot as fuck,” she said.
“I think maybe you’re more submissive than you think. I don’t know your past, maybe you had a bad experience, or someone told you that you’re too stubborn to be a real submissive but baby, they were wrong.”
Carrie scowled. “Get outta my head Mercer. I told you we need a therapist for that.” Her gaze softened. “Seriously, I’m having the time of my life. I still don’t know about the whole collaring and twenty-four seven submission thing, but you’re not half bad.” She gave him a quirky smile and hopped up to run to the bathroom and clean up.
Peter discarded his condom and crawled into bed to wait for her. For as long as he had been in the lifestyle, he held out hope for finding a long term submissive. The only break from that search had been Gigi and look how that turned out. He scowled. Thinking of his ex after mind blowing sex with Carrie wasn’t exactly appropriate.
“What’s with the scowl?”
Peter’s lips curled upward, “sorry baby, just tired.”
“I’m energized after that,” she said with a grin. “I think I’ll go work in the living room for a little while if you don’t mind.”
He pointed a finger at her and curled it upward. “Come here.”
Naked, she crossed the room and stood next to the bed. He patted it, indicating he wanted her to lay with him. “Let me hold you for a while. You can work after I fall asleep.” It came out sounding needier than he wanted it to, but he didn’t care. He just wanted to pull her close and drift off to sleep with her in his arms.
She gave him a shy smile and pulled back the blanket to crawl in next to him. “Sweet dreams,” she said as she shifted close to him so her backside was pressed against him and laid her head on the pillow.
He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. “Such a beautiful girl,” he murmured. “I think I’m falling in love with you.”
Carrie didn’t respond. “Did you hear me baby?” he asked. He grinned. His girl had fallen asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Not so energized after all it would seem.
25
♥♥♥
Carrie blinked as she opened her eyes to bright sunlight streaming through the window. Crap, what time is it? Rolling over, she picked up her phone to find out. It was almost noon. What the hell? Why didn’t Peter wake her up.
The text message app displayed a red number one indicating she had an unread text. Clicking the icon, she pulled it up. There was a message from Peter.
Morning Baby. I couldn’t wake you when I left, so I figured I would let you sleep the day away since it’s the weekend. Let me know when you’re up.
Carrie smiled and typed her response.
Morning sunshine. Thanks for letting me sleep. I think I’ll just work from home today.
Crawling out of bed, she made her way to the shower. She would require food and caffeine to be fully functional, but the hot water was a good start. When she was dried off and dressed, she checked her phone. No message from Peter. Sitting around waiting for a boy to text her wasn’t her normal style and she knew Peter was busy at work. That didn’t stop her from feeling a small twinge of disappointment as she rummaged in his kitchen for something to eat.
Your pantry lacks sugar and carbs. Two things I need to get going in the morning.
She smirked as she sent the message and started making coffee. The phone buzzed as the coffee maker began to gurgle and sputter.
Two things. First, it’s well after noon and second, if you promise to be naked and kneeling in the entry when I get home, I’ll bring you pasta for dinner and cake for dessert. Though I can think of something else I would rather have for dessert. ;)
Carrie fanned herself. Maybe she should make iced coffee for breakfast. Unsure of the submissive response, she stuck with snarky.
You had me at pasta.
Good girl
After frying an egg and making some toast, she wandered into the living room and pulled out both of her laptops so she could start her day of pouring over budget data and organize all her thoughts surrounding this crazy story. When she was settled on the floor in front of his coffee table, she placed her handwritten notes in front of her and read through them. Then she flipped to a blank page in the notebook and made two columns. Column one was titled Known Information. Column two was called Unknowns. As she began filling in the columns, it became painfully clear that compared to the unknowns column, the known list was basically empty.
She had so many questions. What was Corbit Upwood’s role in the trafficking ring?
Was it just providing money via the black budget? Or was it more hands on? Who is Dino Carranza? Who is Carla to Tom? Why did he have a photo of the woman on his computer? And who the hell is RIP?
Carrie sighed and ran a hand through her hair. Maybe it was time to get more aggressive about asking questions. For any other story she would be out of the office doing interviews and getting the answers she needed. Of course, on any other assignment, she wasn’t being threatened by the government or being kidnapped from strip clubs either. But she knew she had to get the answers and close this case.
“First things first, what do we know?” she asked the empty living room. In the known column she put.
RIP knows Peter
Tom knows Carla
Upwood has worked with Peter
The black budget is involved
RIP has access to the budget
RIP has access to the club
She stopped writing then. Everything came down to figuring out who RIP was. She marked the last item on the list with a highlighter. Maybe she couldn’t call up the office of budget management and ask about the black budget, but she could start asking questions at the Cabaret. It was dangerous, but if she went in disguise, she might be able to get some girls to talk to her.
Peter wouldn’t like it. Would he forbid her to go if she asked? Probably. Better to ask for forgiveness than for permission, she decided. Glancing at her clock, she realized it was already almost three. Maybe she would take a nap and get ready for Peter to come home. They could have their fun and when he went to bed tonight, she would slip out and visit the Doll House.
At eight, she took another quick shower and stripped off her clothes. A text from Peter told her that he was already on his way. After straightening the living room, she dropped to her knees in the entry and began doing deep breathing exercises that she’d picked up from a soldier when she’d been embedded in a war zone. It worked to calm her nerves about what to expect from Peter when he arrived. Their dynamic was still so new and undefined. Was she his submissive? Were they just playing a game? Carrie did her best to put those thoughts out of her mind and just focus on her breathing. When she heard his key in the lock, she dropped her head and blew out the breath she had been holding. The door opened.
“Christ, you’re gorgeous,” he murmured. “Stay right there.” The door closed again and Peter walked past her, she risked a quick look up and saw that he held several food bags marked with the logo of an Italian place. A smile tugged at her lips as she dropped her head again.
When he returned, he dropped to one knee in front of her and lifted her chin so he could press a soft kiss to her lips. "I wasn't sure if I would find you like this or not."
Carrie smiled at him, glowing under his approval. She was grateful now that she had followed his directives. Without warning, his hand fisted into her hair and he yanked upward as he rose. Scrambling to her feet, she followed as he pulled her by the hair over to the couch where he flipped her over his lap and proceeded to land a dozen hard swats to her bare ass.
"Hey," she cried in protest. "What was that for?" She asked as he pushed her from his lap and helped her stand.
Rising he whispered, "That was just because I can." With a wink he let her go and headed for the kitchen. Carrie stared after him open mouthed.
When he reached the kitchen doorway he said, "are you coming? Dinner is this way." Did he expect her to eat naked? That was unacceptable wasn't it?
As if he could sense her hesitation, he turned and said, "of course I would prefer you eat naked, but if you find that unsanitary, you can go get one of my t-shirts from the bedroom."
"Thank you," she whispered as she hurried to his room and donned a plain black t-shirt.
When she returned, Peter had transformed his dining room into a romantic space. Candles were lit on the table and sat on either side of a vase of four red roses. Yummy looking plates of pasta and salad were also already out. He engulfed her in his arms for a kiss before leading her to her chair.
As they ate, Peter asked her about her day, so she gave him a recap of the conclusions she had come to.
"I really think everything comes down to finding out who RIP is," she said around a mouthful of bread stick. And it all seems to center on D.C. and Colombia. Can you come up with a list of people who worked with you in Colombia?"
Peter twirled his fork in a pile of noodles. "I can't give you names of former colleagues baby. That could put people in danger."
Carrie waved her hand.
"No. I don't need the names. I just mean that you should see if any of the names make sense."
Peter grabbed her hand. "Thank you for that. I won't talk about Gigi other than to say she wouldn't have understood my concerns."
Carrie felt her heart constrict. Gina Whitman had been a good friend, but she wasn't surprised that when it came to a story she had screwed someone over. The girl was vicious and took no prisoners. It's why Gina was getting her own show and Carrie was still writing for a paper.
"I'm sorry you had a bad experience with her," Carrie said as she picked up his hand from across the table.
Peter snorted and said, "Bad experience is an understatement, but it's in the past and I would like to drop it."
Carrie didn't push, just nodded and went back to her very delicious food. When they had finished their pasta, Peter pulled out a bakery box that held tiramisu. "You really are spoiling me, aren't you?"
He winked at her and handed her a slice of the decadent dessert. "I love to spoil my girl," he said.
Peter sat as she cut into her cake. "Aren't you going to have some?" He shook his head and heat shrouded his gaze.
"I'm planning to have you for dessert," he said, his voice low and dark and full of sexual promise.
Later when his mouth was sucking hard at her clit, that promise was fulfilled ten times or more. When he finally straddled her and slid inside, she was tender and swollen, making the feel of him stretching her even more intense. As he drove into her, he commanded her to come one final time, and together they fell into bliss.
Soon, Peter snored softly beside her. A twinge of guilt ran through her as she thought about what she was about to do. In a way, she knew she was breaking his trust. At the same time, she had to be able to do her job whether she was his submissive or not. Maintaining that freedom was important.
Slipping out of bed, she tip toed to the guest bedroom where she still had her bag of clothes. Once she was dressed, she grabbed Peter's keys from the entry wall and slipped out the door. Out in front of his building, she waited for the ride-share she had called. It was two minutes away. When she was in the backseat, she sent a text to Olivia.
Do you have what I need?
Sure do hon. I'll have it waiting for you behind the bar.
True to her word, Olivia had a canvas bag filled with Carrie's requested supplies waiting for her.
"You can come to the back and I'll help you get ready," her friend said. "I've got a thirty-minute break coming up."
Carrie was grateful for her friends help. In her free time, Olivia was an expert cosplayer and could transform herself, or anyone for that matter, into someone or something else. Tonight, Carrie just needed to be unrecognizable to the staff and patrons of the Doll House.
As Olivia was putting her wig in place she asked, "does your new Dom know what you're up to?"
Carrie refused to look her in the eye. "It's a work thing Liv. You know I don't let a Dom control what I do and don't do for work."
Olivia squealed. "So, you don't deny that he's your Dom?" This time Carrie looked at her friend in the mirror and gave her a shy smile as she slowly shook her head.
"No. I don't deny it. We are still figuring each other out though so don't get all weird and mushy on me."
Olivia squealed again anyway before she went back to focusing on Carrie’s hair and makeup.
Twenty minutes later, Carrie was dressed and made up so she barely recognized herself. She gave her friend a hug and called anoth
er car to take her to the Doll House.
At the door, she paid her cover and winked at the bouncer. It was the same one who had been on duty the last time she was here, but he didn’t recognize her, and he didn’t card her either which had been her only worry since she didn’t have a false ID to hide her name behind.
Inside, the place was crowded. She began scanning the crowd looking for Carla, Savannah, or maybe even Upwood. Carla was behind the bar, but the others were nowhere in sight. Claiming a barstool, she waved Carla over and ordered a drink making sure not to order her usual. When she came back, Carrie wiggled her finger and asked her to come closer. Carla leaned over the bar. “What’s up babe?”
“I have a weird question. You know anybody named Rip? I think he mighta knocked my little sister up and rumor is he hangs out here.”
Carla frowned. “Can’t say it rings any bells. We have a bouncer named Ripley but I’m not sure he’s working tonight.”
Ripley. Could fit. How would a bouncer at a strip club know how to contact her and how would he know Peter? Carrie wondered if she had ever seen this Ripley character before.
Carrie made a show of eying Carla up and down and then said, “you look kind of familiar yourself. You related to Sarah Neiland by chance?”
Carla’s eyes narrowed. “She’s my mother. How do you know her?” So, her suspicions about this being Tom’s daughter or stepdaughter were correct. Sarah Neiland was Tom’s ex-wife.
Carrie shook her head. “It’s a long story. Thanks for the drink.” After laying some cash down, she wandered through the club, stopping near the stage to watch the girls dance. There were three on stage and for a moment Carrie felt a twinge of grief over Savannah. She spent the next hour chatting up any of the strippers that would talk to her. She asked if they knew a bouncer named Ripley, what he was like and whether they enjoyed working here. Most were friendly but at the mention of Ripley’s name a few of them shied away. “Oh, he works for Mr. Carranza. I don’t like talking about him it’s dangerous,” one girl had said, before heading back to the stage. The next girl she talked to, she asked them who Mr. Carranza was. That was the wrong question to ask because the stripper clammed up immediately and went to talk to a bouncer. Carrie took that as her cue to slip out the side entrance and hail a cab. It was nearly two in the morning by the time she snuck back into Peter’s apartment. Thankfully he didn’t seem to have heard her, so she slipped to the guest bathroom to strip off the wig and makeup. Then she grabbed her laptop and went to the couch to work. At four, she was sound asleep.
