We were there another hour before Jeremy finished shopping and instructed Madame to have it delivered to the house. “Tonight,” he specified. “We leave tomorrow on a long trip.”
From the way he hustled me into the car and dragged me home, I thought I’d at least be giving him a blowjob as soon as we got inside, but he left me without a word and went off to do other things. I spent the rest of the afternoon packing and double-checking everything with Kyle and Bonita’s help. I’d be living out of a suitcase for the next four months, and I wanted to get it right.
While I packed late into the night and Kyle ran around like a chicken with its head cut off, Jeremy went to a “bon voyage” dinner with some friends. I wasn’t invited, but I understood completely. By the time he got home after midnight, I didn’t hold out much hope that he’d ask for me. By twelve thirty I had brushed my teeth and headed to bed.
I set my alarm and looked over once more at my suitcases, packed and ready to go in the corner. Just as I put my head on the pillow I heard a soft knock.
He opened the door without waiting for a response. He stood watching me for a long while, and I sat still where I was. He was completely dressed, and he didn’t look amorous. He looked irate. I was suddenly terrified he’d come to tell me it was all over, that he didn’t want me after all.
“What is it?” I finally said, when I couldn’t stand another second of anxiety.
“Are you all packed?”
“Yes, Jeremy.”
“We leave tomorrow.”
“I know.”
He was clearly agitated.
“What can I do, Jeremy?” I asked softly in the silence.
He strode over to the bed with a frustrated sigh and sat down on the edge.
“I want to fuck you now, but I didn’t want it to be like this, late, when you’re tired and I’m tired. You know, the first time.”
Oh God. He wanted it to be special. I didn’t know whether to snicker or start bawling again.
“You looked so beautiful today, and I’ve wanted you so badly, but I’ve been busy. All this stuff at work, stuff I have to do to get ready for the shoot.” He waved his hands and grimaced. “Anyway, I don’t know why I’m babbling about it to you. It’s not your problem.”
“It’s my job to make you feel better, right? So you can say whatever you like. Vent away.”
He smiled crookedly at me. “Good little worker. Yes. I remember.”
I looked down at my hands. “I’m yours. You know that. I’m yours to use. If you want to talk to me now, I’m happy to listen to you talk.”
“I don’t want to talk,” he said curtly. He reached out and cupped my cheek with his hand.
“I’m in my ratty old pajamas. I’m not really dressed for—”
“I don’t give a fuck how you’re dressed.”
“I’m yours,” I whispered again, and I meant it.
“I had a whole scene planned. With cuffs and a very strict leather strap. A silk corset.” His hands closed around my waist. I felt them tighten a little. “A matching ball gag.”
“I don’t like to be gagged.”
“Don’t you?” he asked, staring at my lips. “In hotels they’re a necessary evil, I’m afraid. How else will we muffle your screams?”
He was half kidding, relaxing at last.
“I’m not much of a screamer. I’m more of a crier,” I said. “Sometimes I plead.”
Jeremy laughed. “I can already see you’re going to be trouble. I knew it all along.”
He sobered then and moved his hand to one of my breasts, running the pad of his thumb over it until the nipple stood out in stark relief through my thin shirt.
“I want you over my lap,” he said. “Right now.”
I did as he asked, although it was hard to feel sexy in my worn department-store tank top and Betty Boop pajama pants. As soon as I was in position, he yanked my pants down to my thighs, baring my bottom and the thong that didn’t offer much protection from his gaze.
“Nice.” He played with my ass a little, yanking the thong up farther between my legs. He slid his thick fingers into me, then began to tease my clit and the slick channel between my thighs. I moaned, fidgeting in his lap, but he silenced me with a strict sound in his throat and held me hard by the arm.
“Don’t be naughty,” he said. “I know you’re a little whore. And you know what? Next time I spank you like this, you’re going to be wearing a toy in your ass under your sexy little thong.”
It was the way he said it that turned me on, every bit as much as the raunchy words. The low, exacting rumble tinged with threat. I tried to press my clit against his thigh again and was rewarded with a sharp smack that burned like fire. I’d been paddled by him. I’d felt the bite of his crop, but I was suddenly gripped with dread of a bare-handed spanking from Jeremy Gray. Had I actually wanted it once? Now that the moment was here, I was scared. I buried my face against his leg in silent apology. He thrust his fingers in my pussy and my ass while I tried to lie still.
“Has your ass been fucked a lot, Nell?”
I tried to find my voice, but it was difficult with what he was doing to me.
“N-no…not a lot…Jeremy,” I finally said.
“It will be,” he promised. “But not tonight.”
He withdrew his fingers and wiped them across my quivering ass. I tensed and whimpered as he rested his hand on my cheek. “Scared?”
“Yes.”
“You should be.”
He drew his hand back and I braced, waiting. His palm fell. “Ouch!” I cried out as the pain of the first blow bloomed on my skin. It was followed by a barrage of smacks that had me squirming and gasping for breath.
“Please! Please.” I tried to dodge the merciless hand and was spanked harder as punishment.
“Just lie still. Your ‘pleases’ aren’t going to accomplish anything.”
I bit back the next please behind tightly clenched lips. His hand rained fire on me. My punished cheeks throbbed. When I couldn’t stop my legs from kicking, he pinned them between his thighs. I was truly trapped, and the pain I’d tried to escape became pain I had to endure. I tried to let it flow through me. Soon I felt the familiar sensation of ebbing relief, and the pain began to transform into pleasure. Subspace. Endorphins. Whatever it was, the searing pain in my bottom was joined by a tingle between my thighs. I was aware of every sensation. The roughness of the hands that held me, the tiny hairs on his forearm brushing against my side. The hissing breaths he drew as the spanking grew more physical. The scratchiness of his wool pants against the undersides of my breasts where my shirt had ridden up. It all swirled together and centered in my nipples and my rapidly swelling clit.
When he finally stopped I was breathless, exhausted, broken down. In flames. Not just my belabored ass, but my pussy too.
“Stand up,” he said.
I did, on wobbly legs, my pajama bottoms falling to my feet. I still had on the thong and the ratty shirt. I looked at him. He sat and stared back at me, and the energy passed between us, the energy of power exchange. I’d put myself in his hands, and he’d hurt me. His power eclipsed mine, and it shook me to the core. It made me want to sob out my thanks. It made me want to serve him. I dropped my gaze to the floor in submission.
“Undress.”
I took off my shirt and kicked my pants away. I peeled off my thong, trying to hide the fact that it was practically soaked through.
“Turn around,” he said. “Let me look at your ass.”
For a long time I stood there under his gaze. I desperately wanted to look back over my shoulder and see how red and marked I was, but I disciplined myself to stillness.
Finally he stood and crossed to where I waited, turned me in his arms and clasped me close, then walked me backward to the wall. He held me against it, and I reached for him. He pushed my arms up and pinned them to the wall. “Stay.” It was a command I understood. I left my wrists resting against the wall above my head. He cupped my sore ass and
kissed my neck, then licked at my racing pulse. He moved lower and took my nipple in his mouth and bit it hard enough to make me pull away with a jerk.
“No!” He pushed me back against the wall and again lifted my hands over my head. “Try again.” I tensed and made a plaintive sound as he bit down on the other nipple, but I managed to stand still. I was rewarded with a growl, and his lips pressed over mine. He forced my lips open with his tongue and ravaged my mouth. He put a hand behind my head to pull me closer, and I breathed in his smell, nutmeg mixed with aftershave. I lost myself to the punishing intensity of his kiss.
“Undress me,” he rasped finally, pulling away. My fingers started tearing at his buttons while he doffed his pants. I pushed his shirt off his back just as he straightened, and there he was before me, golden, naked male. He was stunning. He was pure thickness, severe muscle and solid bone. I watched his broad chest rise and fall with each breath he took. His smooth, tanned skin had a smattering of sandy gold hair I wanted to touch. I stared at his coiled abs, at the bulging biceps and triceps that defined his arms. My gaze traveled lower, to the prominent muscles that outlined his groin. And then lower. My God.
He let me look my fill. My mouth grew dry long before my gaze meandered back to his. His lips quirked into an ironic smile.
“Nice,” I whispered, stating the obvious. His hand came out and pulled me against him, skin to naked skin. The feel of it took my breath away. He was so warm, so solid. I was desperate to feel him, to take his thick, beautiful cock between my legs, or even in my ass, my mouth, wherever he wanted it to be.
“Stay,” he said for the second time. This time he left the room. If I thought he wasn’t going to come back and finish me off, I would have sunk into the ground and died. But somehow I knew he’d return immediately, and he did, a condom in his palm. He tore the wrapper with his teeth and rolled it on with quick, practiced grace. Without a word, he took hold of me and lifted me onto the tip of his cock.
“Oh, please.” I don’t know why I kept saying please. I suppose because by that point I was desperate with lust. My breath came in fast, jerky pants. He lowered me down over the head of his cock.
“Hold on to me.”
I moved my arms up from his shoulders and wrapped them around his neck. He pressed me hard against the wall, then reached down with both hands to draw my knees up high around his waist. I clung to him and squeezed my legs on his hips as he penetrated me to the hilt. He went still, looked down at me masterfully. My pussy spasmed around his cock. I wanted to beg. I wanted to say, Please, please, move inside me, but all that came out were incoherent whispers. He was so thick, so hard. He filled me and made me feel like a trapped animal.
I pressed my face against his neck and touched my teeth to his skin.
“No.” I drew back and gazed at him. Why wasn’t he moving in me? He was biting his lip and staring at a point past my shoulder.
“What is it?”
“Don’t move.”
I tried to be still. I tried. I just moved my hips the tiniest inch.
He shuddered and groaned, and his hands snaked down to grip my ass. He pressed me to the wall and withdrew, then thrust again.
“God…you…you feel…too perfect. I almost lost control.”
I sighed and arched my hips to him. I felt his muscles contract against my skin, felt the rigid control. A part of me wondered what he was like when his control went away. And then my thoughts were silenced as he fucked me hard. He fingered my ass and pushed my legs even wider with his hips. My entire existence centered on the cock that reared into me again and again.
Within moments I knew I was losing it. I was close to the edge. I began to struggle against him, trying not to come without permission. “Please. Jeremy!”
“What?”
“I’m… Please… I’m going to come. I have to come! May I, please?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I’m just getting started.” He buried his face against the side of my neck. “Can’t you wait?”
I answered with a tortured moan of desperation.
“Okay, you naughty little slut, come.”
“Oh God,” I gasped, writhing in his arms. “You feel so good! I love how you fuck!”
I knew it wasn’t my job to critique his technique, but I couldn’t get ahold of my mouth in my current crazed state, and I could feel him laughing into my neck as I fell apart.
“You’re a little cum whore.”
“Yes, yes!” I agreed with each thrust of his hips.
He didn’t stop as he carried me across the room to fall on top of me on the bed. He held my hands hard in his over my head, fucking me deep and slow. The way he filled me, the way he moved against me, all urgent, hard, aroused male, I could have lain there and taken his thrusts for hours and hours.
“Yes yes yes!” I hated that I was so out of control, but I was completely powerless to stop it. I was under his spell. I was his.
His thrusts quickened. He let go of my hands and wrapped me in his arms until I could barely breathe, until I could practically hear the blood beat in his veins.
“Oh, Jeremy, God…” He was so close, so close to me. No one had ever fucked me like this, not Douglas, not the play doms before him, not the vanilla boys I toyed with in school.
It was like he wanted to get inside me. It felt so new, so amazing, so intimate to be made love to this way, body to straining body, no holds barred. He was rough and intense, but the way he held me felt at the same time incredibly tender and dear.
“Lovely girl.” He nuzzled me. “Come again. Come again, with me.”
“I can’t,” I said, even as I felt my clit throbbing and aching.
“No ‘I can’ts,’” he said against my ear. “I know you can.”
One hand moved down to cup my bottom and draw me closer, the other fastened on one nipple with a vicious pinch. “Oh God,” I said. “Please!”
“Please what?”
“Please, harder…again!”
He complied, and again I felt pleasure bloom in my center, as if my nipples were connected directly to my clit. Pain, pleasure, and his thick cock impaling me. All at once, some receptor inside me tripped. I arched up to him as the orgasm ripped through me. My legs kicked helplessly in his grasp, and he clutched me tighter. I could feel my walls clamping down on his dick. He pounded into me as the aftershocks of my orgasm traveled across my nerves. He bucked against me and then grunted out his own release.
We came to rest, entangled in each other, his hard body plastered to my skin. His hips still pressed against my slick, spread thighs, and my sopping channel still undulated around his cock. I stayed still, wanting him to never move.
Soon, though, he shifted to the side so I could breathe. He discarded the condom and rolled back to look at me. I gazed up at him, spent, satisfied…infatuated. I looked away before he could see it in my eyes. It’s sex glow, just like last time, I told myself. You don’t like him, you don’t love him. He’s just your boss.
“Look at me,” he said.
I did, guarded now.
“That was good, wasn’t it? For the first time.”
“It was spectacular. Honestly.” I turned my head, but he nudged my chin back.
“Why won’t you look at me?”
“Because I’m your submissive.”
“Exactly. You do what I want. And I want you to look in my eyes.”
I did, and he studied me carefully. I don’t know what he wanted to see. If I’d known, I would have given it to him, whatever expression he wanted, whatever would have pleased him. But I didn’t know, so what he saw was only guarded confusion and anxiety.
“I hope you liked that,” he said. “That’s the softest you’re ever going to get it from me.”
And I knew he didn’t mean soft, as in gentle. He meant soft as in, I just made love to you.
Then he fell asleep beside me there like a lover, but woke up in the morning the stern boss again.
Chapter Eight
Hours and
Hours
‡
“Here, let me help you.”
He grabbed my suitcase to sling it into the overhead bin, muttering, “What’s in there, bricks?”
Books, mostly, but I didn’t reply to what I assumed was a rhetorical question. Anyway, I was too distracted looking at his arms. Lovely, lovely, lustworthy muscular arms and shoulders in a blue cashmere sweater that made me want to rub all over it like a cat.
Enough, Nell. Calm down already.
It was twenty hours to Bangkok, and we hadn’t even taken off yet.
Twenty hours to sit next to him in first class, smelling his masculine smell, looking at his masculine hands fidgeting in his lap, feeling his masculine, sweater-encased shoulder pressing against mine. Twenty hours to sit on the sore ass that still smarted from those hands the night before.
He’s your boss. Give it a rest.
He was hyperalert and agitated, still trying to manage everything, even though Kyle, sitting behind us, assured him everything was all right. Jeremy sighed, his leg bouncing and jittering beside mine.
“Nervous flyer?” I asked.
“No, just impatient. I hate long flights.”
“I hate the take-off and landing.”
“That’s the time the plane is mostly likely to crash.”
“Thanks.” I laughed. “Now I feel better.”
“You aren’t a nervous flyer, I hope?”
“If I were, I don’t think I would have agreed to fly all over the world with you.”
“Smarty pants.” He checked his phone for messages one last time while the flight attendant went over procedures in case of disaster.
Make Me: Twelve Tales of Dark Desire Page 167
