“Yes, sir,” she said again, desperation making her voice shake. “I’ve waited my whole life for someone to take me in hand.”
“Not someone. Me. You want me, specifically, to teach you boundaries. To demand respect. To be the only person you’ve ever met who doesn’t allow your insolence to go unheeded. Don’t you?”
“Yes, sir.”
And it came out a moan, though he hadn’t really done anything yet.
All she was doing was lying here, in this remarkably exposed position, with his hand resting gently in almost the perfect place. And yet she was as turned-on as if he was fucking her. She’d had orgasms that were less intense than this. She was stretched out, gripping her own hands too tightly behind her neck, every part of her tense and waiting and so, so needy—
“You are in luck, little girl,” he told her, with a certain erotic menace that made her pulse kick at her even as she melted all the more. “Because I have no intention of going easy on you. I’m going to spank you. You’re going to count. You can sob, but you will lie still. You can cry out, but you will not fight me. If you use words, they will be of gratitude or your safe word and nothing else. Do you understand me?”
It was all storms and riot inside her. Why wasn’t she calling this off? Why wasn’t she rolling away from him, protecting herself, doing something to stop this?
Erika had played games before, with handcuffs and funny little floggers that tickled, and she’d thought she was practicing for this. But she’d never doubted that she was in complete control. Not once. The men she was with had teased her, but never hurt her.
This was different. Dorian wanted to hurt her. And would.
Or maybe it wasn’t that simple. He wanted her to allow him to hurt her, because the crazy thing was, she wanted him to do just that.
He saw her. He could list her sins, and had. He was the only one who could punish her for them—and then grant her absolution, too.
She might not be in control of him. But she was here because she wanted to be here.
It was as simple and as wildly, impossibly convoluted as that.
“Yes, sir,” she said and shuddered with the force of what she was agreeing to—but it felt as if she needed this. As if he was right, and she’d been looking for it all her life.
“Are you a reckless, thoughtless, selfish girl who needs this punishment?”
It was as if he could read her mind. She tried to control her breathing, and failed miserably. “Yes, sir.”
“Do you trust me to punish you as you deserve?”
She gave up on her breath, because she was sobbing. Big racking sobs rolled up from somewhere deep inside her, and made her body convulse. Her eyes were wet, her fingers so tight they were cramping behind her neck.
And still, all she could focus on was that blazing heat between her legs.
And him. Dorian.
At this moment, he was the whole of her world.
“Yes,” she managed to get out. “Yes, sir.”
He moved his hand from her pussy, and did it without so much as grazing a single part of her that would have kicked her deeper into that fire. And when his hand moved over her ass again, she could feel her own wetness.
The first smack shocked her.
It hurt.
“Count, please,” he ordered her.
“One,” she managed to get out. “Thank you, sir.”
“Excellent,” he said, and he was already rubbing the place where he’d smacked her, almost soothing it. But not quite enough to keep that deep red ache at bay. “Just like that.”
And then he got to work.
It was shocking. Excruciating. His hand was big and impossibly hard. And he was thorough. The pain of each precise smack jolted through her, making her kick her legs, but she didn’t roll off him. She stayed where she was, no matter the sting and the ache of it.
Erika counted. And thanked him.
And cried.
And he kept going. First he spanked one cheek, then the other. He smacked her in the crease where her ass met her thighs. He continued until her whole butt felt bright red and agonized, and then he started the same painful pattern all over again.
Again and again, until she wasn’t even pretending that she was doing anything but sobbing her eyes out.
She sobbed and she sobbed and he spanked her, and it fucking hurt. And she was strung out somewhere between the white noise in her head and the way her nipples were still too hard as they moved with the force of his smacks against the leather beneath her. Her ass was on fire, the pain outrageous and bright, and still, her clit ached and her pussy was so wet she hardly knew what to do with herself.
Dorian, by contrast, did not thrash about. He spanked her, that was all, but he did it in the same calm, considered rhythm as when he’d started. He didn’t speed up. He didn’t hit her harder or taper off into something lighter. He was laying down a lesson.
And all Erika could do was count. And sob for all the memories she didn’t want in her head right now, but seemed lodged in her chest anyway.
Though Dorian seemed determined to spank them right out of her.
When she counted all the way to twenty, he stopped.
It took her a moment to realize that, because she was still sobbing. He picked her up, so easily that it occurred to her he’d wanted her to crawl into that position with as much strained awkwardness as it took.
But that was something she would have to think about later, when she wasn’t so beside herself. He pulled her to him, cradling her against his chest. And then he murmured words that didn’t quite penetrate as he held her there, her ass sore and hot against his thighs and her face tucked against his collarbone.
For a long time, Erika cried. And it wasn’t until she was sniffling and calming herself, that it actually hit her that she was in Dorian’s arms.
And not only that, all the pain in her ass seemed to be radiating out and setting that raging fire in her pussy into some kind of inferno.
“If you keep squirming against me like that,” Dorian said, his voice so close, so dark, it made her shudder, “I will take it as an invitation to continue the lesson.”
She shuddered out a breath and stopped.
And then he lifted her, gripping her by the upper arms and holding her just far enough away from him that he could stare directly into her eyes.
The world outside had disappeared. There was only sensation, Dorian and that intense gleam in his eyes.
“You please me, Erika,” he told her, his voice grave. “You took that well.”
She couldn’t seem to think. Or speak. All she could do was hold his words close, unexpected light that made her heart feel bigger than it had been.
She pleased him.
Maybe that was enough.
And then, all she could focus on was that ache between her legs, made ravenous by the hot red ache he’d given her.
He set her on her feet then, there between his legs. Erika cast her eyes down without being asked, but she could feel the smile in his voice when he spoke.
“Turn around, please. I want to admire my work.”
She shuddered, but obeyed.
“Hold up your skirt, please.”
And she could hear her own breathing again—not quite a sob any longer, not simply a breath—as she stood there, staring at those books again. Pretending she wasn’t holding her skirt up high, her thong still tangled around her knees, baring the ass he’d spanked to his view. And also unable to think of anything else.
She knew he sat forward when he gripped her hips, then moved his hands painfully over her ass cheeks again.
“Stay still,” he ordered her.
And she tried. She really did try.
“Your ass is beautifully red and hot,” he told her after a moment. “I like all those tears on your face, Erika. I’m feeling magnanimou
s and very well pleased. Ask me for what you want. I might just grant it to you.”
She didn’t even think. She didn’t have to think. She knew exactly what she wanted.
Erika couldn’t have imagined that it would all go down like this, that he would scare her, then spank her and make her purge herself of some ugliness she wasn’t sure she even wanted to look at straight. But she knew what she wanted.
She’d only ever wanted one thing from him, above everything else. It was funny how clear it was now. All the world had seemed to narrow down to just one thing.
“Look at me,” he said, and she did.
She looked back over her shoulder to find his dark eyes blazing with the same intense heat she could feel coiled so tightly inside her.
“Ask me,” he ordered.
“Please, sir,” Erika said softly in a voice that sounded like belonged to someone else, but she couldn’t think about that now. “Please. Fuck me.”
CHAPTER SIX
DORIAN HADN’T MEANT to do anything but scare her.
But then she’d stuck her chin in the air, gave him that challenging look, talked about finding herself a different kinky club and... No.
He couldn’t allow it.
And somewhere in there, it had all changed from a lesson he could have imparted to anyone who needed to understand what a firm hand and some discipline could do, to...this.
His cock was so hard he thought he might burst. When he was never, ever out of control. Never with submissives. Never anywhere, for that matter.
She’s different, something in him whispered, but she was Conrad’s little sister, so that was impossible.
But at the moment, he couldn’t bring himself to think about all the ways he had already betrayed his oldest and best friend tonight, because he wasn’t done yet. He had made Erika a promise.
And Dorian did not break his promises.
She couldn’t possibly know the picture she made, Dorian thought as he gazed at her now, or how badly he wanted her.
He had spanked her hard and she’d pinkened beautifully, so that high, round ass of hers was bright and getting redder by the second. He could see the pouting lips of her pussy when she bent forward slightly, still holding up that skirt to give him a better view. Her blond hair was a tousled mess from all that thrashing around on the couch, her face was tearstained, and her eyes were wide and glazed.
But best of all, bratty little Erika Vanderburg was looking at him as if she’d seen God. And better still, wanted some hard, wild communion.
He was so hard it hurt.
He’d never intended to do more than spank her. Teach her a lesson.
Liar, something in him laughed.
But she was looking at him with awe and greed and he felt the same thing return—and then some. And he couldn’t think about all the reasons why he shouldn’t do exactly what she’d asked him to do.
“Hands and knees,” he ordered her in a growl. “Right there.”
She rushed to obey him, and he almost laughed at the sight. She was so wound up, it hadn’t yet occurred to her how much she’d changed between the hallway at the club and here. How eager she was to obey him, with her pupils dilated and her pulse wild.
Erika liked a hard hand, he’d discovered. She bloomed under discipline. He made a note of that as if he planned to expand on that discovery—
But this wasn’t the time to second-guess himself.
Dorian reached into the drawer in his side table and pulled out a condom. He knelt behind her, freed his aching cock from his trousers and sheathed himself. Then he gripped her lush hips, making sure his hands pressed into her reddened flesh. She made a whimpering sound, but pushed back to get closer to him.
It made him smile.
“I’m going to fuck you,” he told her, wanting to sound cool but coming out gravelly instead. But that worked, too. “You may come whenever you like, but if you do not, you’re out of luck. You can’t touch your clit. You can’t rub yourself against me. I want you to submit, take it and see what happens. Do you understand me?”
Her head fell forward, as if she could no longer hold it up. As if the idea of submission on that scale made her weak.
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
Dorian lined himself up with the entrance to her pussy, pressing his fingers into the curves of her ass because he knew it would sting. And remind her what she’d already taken. She shuddered, and he could smell how wet she was. How ready.
God help him, but she was a wonder.
He took a split second to admire her, there on her hands and knees, her ass red from his hand and her pretty pussy on display and ready to be split wide-open by him.
It was almost perfect.
“Put your face on the floor,” he told her. “Hands behind your back, please.”
She blew out a breath, then obeyed with a certain graceless alacrity that pleased him more than studied grace would have—because it meant she was too excited to contain herself. And better still, his grip on her meant he kept her pussy right there, pressed against his wide cockhead. As she shifted, he coated himself in her and had to hold himself back, hard.
When her hands were behind her back and her forehead was nestled against the oversoft, cushy rug beneath them, he wrapped one hand around her wrists and held them there. Maybe a little higher than she would have naturally, to make it fun.
“Thank me,” he commanded her. “For showing you this consideration and allowing for the possibility of your pleasure in the midst of this punishment.”
He felt the shudder work its way through her, and he loved the way goose bumps prickled all over her skin. She was so responsive. He was already thinking of all the wicked things he could do to make her shudder like that, over and over again.
Dorian hadn’t been this pleased and impressed by a submissive in a long, long while.
“Thank you, sir,” Erika moaned. “Thank you, thank you.”
And with absolutely no warning, he slammed himself home.
She came instantly, violently, with a scream that was like music to him.
He didn’t wait for her to ride it out. Dorian pounded into her, hard and deep, claiming her and taking her over and over. He fucked her through the wallop of that first orgasm, then straight on into a second one.
Erika kept screaming, prettier every time.
And still he kept fucking her at the same, ferocious pace, until her sobs and screams changed. And turned into his name.
“Please, Dorian. Please, sir. Please—please—please—”
He couldn’t have said what she begged for. Only that he took it.
Again and again, he took and she gave, and that was the beauty they made between them. That was the discipline and the desire, the coming together of two halves to make something much hotter, much brighter than either one of them alone.
Dorian made her come once more, and then, with a roar, he took his own pleasure at last.
And as he fell, he had the distinct notion that this time, he was well and truly damned.
* * *
Dorian did not typically spend a lot of his time questioning himself, his motives or his actions, because he’d spent a lifetime committed to honesty and openness in all things and that generally meant there was very little to question.
He was renowned for ferreting out secrets in the club and in the boardroom by dint of...simply asking. Then demanding honesty in return.
It was amazing how rare that was. So rare, in fact, that he’d heard it discussed in his office as his superpower. He’d always rolled his eyes at that, because if he had a superpower, he was pretty sure it had more to do with the kind of sex he preferred than a simple round of honest conversation.
Some people liked to claim he had been born confident, and he couldn’t dispute that. Dorian had always had a deep, invariable sense of wh
o he was, what he wanted and what he was prepared to do to get it. That had come to him honestly. His father had been the disappointment in the Alexander family, lazy and addicted and good for nothing at all—but his inability to live up to the standards set by Dorian’s grandfather had merely given Dorian a good example of what best to avoid.
He did not lie because that was all his father ever did. He did not cheat because he had seen the pain his father’s various forms of cheating had caused, whether in his relationships or in the business. He was bracingly honest with everyone he came into contact with—especially himself.
But that was before his best friend’s little sister had turned up in his favorite club, sank to her knees and made something deep inside him hum.
As if he’d been waiting all this time to truly come alive.
He shook that unsettling notion off. And he concentrated on the practicalities instead.
Erika lay on the floor in a heap. Her eyes were closed, her face was still flushed, and her lips were parted. She was in the position he’d left her, as if she’d simply...folded into herself. Fully surrendered, fully his.
The woman of your dreams, a voice inside him pronounced.
Dorian rubbed a hand over his face, amazed to find he was less steady than he ought to have been.
He tucked himself back into his trousers, amazed that he had come so hard. He couldn’t remember the last time a woman had gotten to him like that. And he didn’t feel empty and restless the way he did more and more these days, especially after sex. He wasn’t already thinking about the work he had to do or what his next extreme BDSM feat would be should he find a willing submissive to test it with him. He wasn’t already thinking about who that might be.
He wasn’t thinking about anything except Erika and that was...new. Like the feeling of deep stillness inside him that he knew he’d never felt before—and yet recognized, somehow.
Dorian didn’t know where the hell to put all that yet, so he shoved it aside. He reached down and plucked her up from the floor, shifting her to hold her in his arms. Then he carried her up the stairs to the master suite that took up most of the second floor. Her head was a soft and welcome weight tucked there into the crook of his neck, making the stillness in him feel like something else. Like religion, maybe.
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