From Sir, With Love

by Rachell Nichole

  “How do you like to get off?” he asked her, his voice gruff. Such a crass question should not be making her shiver. Yet, she felt goose bumps cover her skin. Her ass still burned from his attentions. Was he a little too rough with her? Probably. Did she care? Not in the slightest.

  “I don’t know, in the traditional sense, I suppose.” She’d never been asked such a question. She just followed Benson’s lead. Obviously, she had experience pleasuring herself. Was he asking her to describe it?

  “Lay on the bed,” he commanded, standing. He moved to the side and allowed her to get onto the bed.

  When her ass brushed against the soft sheets, it burned even more. She couldn’t quite hide her sharp breath.

  “Turn over.” His voice was dark. Demanding. She obeyed and he swore when he saw her ass. “God damn it. You’re going to bruise.”

  She shrugged.

  “Don’t you shrug at me, young lady. Are you hurt?” His curt words made her look up at him over her shoulder. His face was pained.

  “You can’t tell me you’ve never marked one of your play partners before?” That happened. Sometimes it happened on purpose, sometimes on accident, but it wasn’t that uncommon.

  “That’s different,” he insisted.

  “How?”

  “Because they like it like that!” His anger was poking through his concern.

  She sighed. “What about the last hour has given you the impression I don’t?” Was she used to this? No. Did that mean she didn’t like it? Also no.

  That seemed to give him pause. “I just...” he took a deep breath and ran a hand through his hair.

  “I’m not made of glass, Leonardo,” she couldn’t quite hide the annoyance in her voice.

  That earned her a little quirk of his lips. He leaned forward and kissed her on the sensitive skin just were her hip met her ass. “That’s becoming quite apparent, minx.”

  “I thought you said no kissing, Vivian style.”

  He shook his head. “Just because I’m not going to spank that ass anymore tonight doesn’t mean there aren’t other ways to punish such impertinence, little one. Just keep that in mind.”

  She shivered, allowing herself to just feel. To allow whatever was building between them to consume her. To stop thinking for the first time in she couldn’t recall how long, and just be.

  “Can you lay on your back without discomfort?” He caressed down her back, increasing her shivers.

  “Yes.” She moved to show him just that.

  His gaze followed her movements and she soaked up the attention. He sat on the bed beside her, fully clothed. “Show me how you like to be touched.” The whisper was no less a command for the volume at which it was delivered.

  She bit her bottom lip. He wanted her to touch herself. While he watched. She swallowed.

  “You want me to...” she couldn’t finish the sentence. Why was she suddenly shy?

  “Yes. I want you to masturbate while I watch. And I want you to get as close to orgasm as you can stand it, but not come. Do you think you can do that for me?”

  The plain hope on his face made her nod. He was genuinely asking her for this. And she didn’t think it was just so he could learn what she wanted. It was because he wanted it, too.

  “Good.” He shifted position on the bed so he could lean a bit onto his side and watch her.

  She started slow, running her hands along her breasts, her flanks. Building up the tension even more. The anticipation of orgasm was almost as fun as the orgasm itself. And he was going to make her bring herself to the brink, but not over the edge. She was suddenly consumed by the need to please him. To make herself aching and begging for release, but not allowed to have it until, or unless, he told her she could have it.

  She bit her lip. The intensity of this feeling was terrifying. The force of his gaze on her made her tremble with desire. She slowly tugged at her nipples, bringing a zing of pleasure straight to her clit. She sucked in a breath and lost herself in the sensations.

  “You can close your eyes if you wish,” he told her.

  She blinked slowly and let the ache inside her core build as she teased herself. Her touches became more insistent, the gently swipe of her fingers along her nipples becoming hard tugs. When she felt herself growing wet, she moved her right hand down between her legs. She planted her feet on the bed and let her knees fall wide as her fingers gently circled her clit. She’d start slowly there too. But she wouldn’t stay gentle for long.

  All the while, she watched Leo watching her. His gaze traveled from her face, down to between her legs, and back again, taking in the sight. What did she look like like this, she wondered?

  She worked her fingers faster, harder, her slick clit aching for more. Biting her lip, she finally let her eyes flutter closed. She was already close. A few more minutes and she’d come. She lifted her fingers from the constant pressure, and instead tapped lightly at her clit over and over again until she was squirming, until her sheath was dripping. She moaned, and then felt a hand circle her ankle. She gasped at the sudden contact and her lids flew open. The surprise distracted her from the impending orgasm, making her lose her rhythm, and she whimpered.

  Leo smiled down at her, then licked his lips. His hand tightened on her ankle and then he moved so he could grab the other one. All the while she played with herself. He spread her legs even wider, holding both of her ankles in his iron grip. His fingers were strong.

  They held her captive. As did the look on his face as his gaze zeroed in on the juncture of her thighs. She was panting now from the exertion. From chasing the orgasm that wouldn’t come.

  She started rubbing her clit again, harder, faster this time. She bucked against his hold, her body threatening to come apart. But Leo held her steady. “Not yet.”

  She let another whimper escape. His grip tightened more on her ankles.

  “Are you ready to come, Evangeline?” he asked.

  She nodded.

  “Too bad.”

  She shook. A litany of curses sounded in her head, but she didn’t give them voice.

  “Stop.”

  Her hand didn’t obey his command.

  He shook his head. “Stop now. Or I will not allow you release tonight, minx.”

  She quivered, whimpering. So. Close. If he would just give her another second she would – his fingers circled her wrist and pulled her hand up a little. Not with much force, just enough to break the contact with her clit. She groaned as the rush through her ebbed. She slumped back, frustration roiling through her.

  “Shh,” he held a finger to her lips, and quieting her sounds of frustration. “Soon, baby. Very soon.” He released her other ankle, and circled both her wrists, guiding her hands up over her head to rest on the bed. “Leave these here.”

  She nodded. The need for release rode her hard. Until it was all she could think about. But the longer he made her wait before she had sensation between her legs again, the harder it would be to finally come.

  He obviously knew that. And still, he made her wait. He was playing with her. He watched her body quake, his hands still pinning her wrists above her head. Being held down just made her quiver more. The utter surrender he was demanding of her was an intoxication.

  He leaned over her, his face only a few inches from hers and she thought he would be the one to break the no kissing rule. Instead, at the last moment, he tilted his head to the side, so he could whisper darkly in her ear. “I’m going to play with you now, minx. And I want you to beg me to come.”

  She cracked. She rubbed against him, arching into his body. The body he kept back from her. She wanted to roll against him. To feel his hands and body all over hers. She needed. She didn’t care that he was turning her into a writhing ball of need.

  “Please,” she begged. “Please, Sir.” The title just slipped out. She couldn’t help it. She was too far down the rabbit hole. She knew he wasn’t her Sir. Could never be her Sir. But in that moment, she didn’t care.

  He re
leased his hold on her wrists. “Stay there,” he said as he lifted himself up. She didn’t move her arms. “And close your eyes.”

  She closed her eyes. Her body was quaking with the pent-up energy. Hands cupped her thighs and spread her open farther. Until the cool air moved along her slick folds. Until her clit was exposed. She moaned. And still, he didn’t touch her there. Where she needed it most. He had watched her masturbate. He knew what she liked. How much pressure to use. How fast she wanted it.

  His fingers, when he finally touched her, were gentle. He slowly parted her folds and slid a finger up inside her, massaging her, opening her. She groaned and thrashed against the bed. It wasn’t enough. It wasn’t nearly enough. He teased her like this mercilessly. In, out, in again. Soft, gentle strokes with one finger, then two. He took his time winding her up like a toy. Cranking her need so high she wanted to scream. She grabbed fistfuls of the pillow above her and cried out. He finally increased the pace of his fingers inside her, and then began a gentle assault against her clit with his other hand. She thrashed, pushing against his hands. More. She had to have more.

  “Please,” she begged. She knew her voice was a mere whine, but she couldn’t care. Couldn’t think of anything except the need to come.

  “Please!”

  “Begging already, little one?” His voice was a taunt. He increased the pressure on her clit until she cried out.

  “Please. I’m sorry I was so mouthy. Please. Please!”

  He chuckled. Enjoying her suffering. Her helpless begging. Her neediness.

  “I see. So spankings don’t give you pause, but orgasm denial... that makes you repentant, you defiant little thing.”

  She bit back a curse.

  His fingers landed in a gentle smack on her clit and she screamed at the sudden pop of sensation. She bucked against him. He hooked his fingers inside her, and held them there, she tried to ride his hand, but he wouldn’t let her. He pressed the heel of his other hand into her clit and held her pelvis down. Keeping her just where he wanted her. Pressure from the top and bottom, from inside and out.

  “All right, you can come now,” he said, his voice indulgent. “But only because I’m not quite that evil.”

  She might argue that point. Later. Much. Much later.

  He pressed the heel of his hand down onto her clit and rubbed hard and fast, up and down, until she screeched, the orgasm tearing through her with such force she might have blacked out.

  Chapter Seven

  “You didn’t come.” Her sleepy voice brought Leo crashing back down to earth. When he’d finally allowed her release, when his control had been just about to snap, the rush through his veins was a high unlike any he’d ever experienced before. She had given her body to him in a way he hadn’t thought would ever be possible for them. He hadn’t realized just how much he’d needed that trust from her.

  “No, I didn’t,” he said, matter-of-factly. He didn’t need to come in a scene. That wasn’t the goal. His release wasn’t physical. It was mental. And he had definitely gotten his release today, which was exactly what he’d needed.

  “Aren’t you, like, uncomfortable?” Evangeline shifted against him. He’d laid beside her on the bed and covered them in the blanket after she’d screamed herself hoarse from the force of her orgasm. Every bottom needed different kinds of after care. Following that level of power exchange? He’d imagined she’d need quite the come-down. Some praise. Maybe a lot of physical touch. Benson’s notes mentioned how much she liked being held. But Leo wasn’t sure how to help her transition from what they’d just done and back to reality. Fuck, he didn’t know how to transition himself.

  “Mmm. No.” Well, that wasn’t strictly true. Physically, he was a bit uncomfortable. His pants a little tight around his cock. But the rest of him felt fucking fantastic. “That was a lot. How are you feeling?”

  She sighed. “I can’t even put it into words.”

  He felt exactly the same way. He was such a mix of sated endorphins, worry that he’d hurt her, gone too far, with either the spankings, or demanding her utter surrender to him allowing her to come only the way he wanted her to, when he wanted her to, and guilt. So much guilt tinged everything.

  This could not have been what Benson had had in mind when he’d asked Leo to come take care of her, could it?

  “We should try.”

  She slumped against him. “Could we maybe not?”

  He smiled, knowing she couldn’t see it were she was, her head dipped away from him. Back to being impertinent already, huh? Well, he’d have to see what he could do about that. No. Damn it. She isn’t yours to do with as you please. He’d never had a true submissive. Not really. They’d always been Benson’s. He’d Topped people, sure. But they’d never been his either. He’d never wanted to subject someone to his level of control, to his needs, full time before. It was dangerous. He couldn’t be trusted. Not like that. And you can never forget that. Not ever.

  He cleared his throat and reached down to nudge her chin up. “I’ll grant you a reprieve, for now. But we’re going to have to discuss what it is we’re doing here. We need to be on the same page. For now, I just need to know you’re all right?”

  “I think so. I mean, as all right as I can be, you know?”

  “I do.” Because he still felt the hole in his life that Ben’s death would always leave. She must have felt it at least as acutely. And here he was, muddying the waters with his own needs. Again. “Would you like to stay here for a little bit? Maybe rest? Let me hold you?”

  She shook her head. He debated ordering her to stay, to wrap his arms around her and tell her that everything would be okay, that they’d both make it through their grief somehow. That they could lean on each other. That even if this was some fucked up imitation of a real relationship, maybe they could make it work. For now.

  But he didn’t do any of those things.

  “Okay.”

  She smiled. “Thanks.”

  He wasn’t sure what part she was thanking him for, but he let it go. She got up and he tried not to notice how shaky she still was. “I’m gonna go get cleaned up.”

  “Sure. I’ll go make us a midnight snack. Seems I worked up an appetite.”

  She shook her head. “I mean, I’m the one that did all the coming.”

  He laughed. “I’ll see you downstairs in a bit.” It wasn’t an invitation. He would give her some space, some time to get cleaned up and get back to herself, but he wasn’t sending her to bed without more food. And he was going to have to come clean with her about that too. He couldn’t keep pretending he didn’t know about the anorexia. Even if she’d already guessed he knew. He needed to tell her so.

  But not tonight. They’d bridged some serious shit already tonight. The rest could wait for tomorrow.

  “Yeah, sure.” She picked up her clothes that had been strewn about when she stripped for him.

  He watched her as she moved, enjoying the view. She didn’t try to hide from him, which he really liked. He’d remember the sounds of her begging him to come for a long time. The look of her as she finally came would stay with him as well. The feel of her core clenching his fingers tightly... yeah, that would be forever imprinted on his mind, his body, too.

  She nodded once, and then slipped out into the hall. She closed the door with a soft snick, and he flopped back against the pillows. What the hell was he getting himself into?

  God, it smells like sex in here.

  It smelled like her, too. He groaned. His body was still riding the high of the endorphins he felt at being in control. Topping someone was its own release. But... maybe he’d have enough time for another kind of release.

  He undid his pants and freed his aching cock. He was usually better able to control himself. She was barely gone and his fingers were already reaching for his shaft. His eyes closed, his head filling with images of Evangeline as he stroked himself hard and fast. He wouldn’t need much to catapult over the edge. Her cries echoed in his ears. Please. I’m s
orry I was so mouthy. Please. Please!

  He groaned as he came, his toes curling as his back bowed and he lost himself in the rush of not just owning her body, even for those few brief moments, but in the rush of coming. Panting, he lay back and floated in the ebb of all the chemicals rushing through his blood stream. He wasn’t sure how long he lay like this, come drying on his shirt and hand. Eventually, he opened his eyes, and reoriented himself. She needed him to be downstairs when she was done getting cleaned up. He propelled himself up and into the bathroom to wash up and found a pair of pajama bottoms. He slipped a T-shirt on too and padded barefoot downstairs.

  He could hear the shower from her bathroom once he was in the kitchen, and he busied himself making a bacon avocado salad. High in nutrients and lots of good fats. He added some olive oil dressing and was just about to call up to her that she better get her ass into the kitchen unless she wanted another spanking when he heard her come downstairs.

  She gave him a sheepish smile when she came into the kitchen. “Salad, huh?”

  “Yeah, it just sounded good, you know?”

  She nodded and reached for the bowl without another word. He handed it to her, and she stood at the counter, taking a few bites. Shit. She didn’t want to sit down. Because her ass hurt. Because he was an asshole.

  Damn it. He had to go back to Benson’s techniques. Get control of himself, and, more importantly, keep it. He would not allow himself to be that rough with her again. Not ever.

  He had the urge to pull her into his arms and hold her close, promise he’d never hurt her again. But he resisted it. Barely.