She leaned against him, lining their bodies up until their lips touched. “Then make me come.”
Clay spread her labia and slid two fingers into her channel. He held her gaze, staring at her so intently it felt as if he touched her soul. His fingers curled, rubbing her G-spot. She gasped and her eyes tried to flutter shut but she held them open. Her muscles quivered and that intangible connection she had with him on an elemental level seemed to quiver with the same desire as her body. Another digit caressed her clit, circling it with just the right pressure.
The water crept higher, combining with the warm blanket of lust spreading through her body. She cupped Clay’s face and kissed him, panting against his lips as he began to pump in and out. She moved her hips, rubbing the hard length of his cock trapped between their bodies.
“Shit, the water.”
Her lust-fogged brain was slow to compute his words. Clay’s fingers slipped from her sheath. He pushed her back onto her butt and leaned past her.
“Huh?”
“We’re trying to flood the bathroom.” He chuckled and turned the old-fashioned knobs. The water lapped at the top of the tub, dangerously close to splashing out. “Come back here. If you please.”
“I do please, I please very much.” She crawled back to him, but instead of allowing him to do as he wanted, she grasped his cock and squeezed until he grunted. She gripped his balls tightly with the other hand.
“Yes,” Clay hissed, his head dropping back against the tub, his hands gripping her thighs.
If there was one thing Bianca knew he liked more than anything else, it was having his cock and balls squeezed to the point of pain. Cock and ball torture was one of his top must-haves from a Mistress, and she was only too happy to deliver. He groaned and lifted his hips, face contorting in a mix of ecstasy and pain.
She did this to him. And he gave her the power to do it all. Greedy, she wanted it all, the power, his heart and soul for her own.
“Who do you belong to?”
“Mmm, you, Mistress.”
Maybe she should deny him the building orgasm. Anticipation could be a sweet thing, but she was rubbed too raw for that kind of control. She wanted.
Releasing her hold on his balls, she gripped the edge of the tub and lifted up on her knees. His hands slid up to cup her hips, steadying and guiding her until the head of his cock nudged her entrance. Hungry to feel him, she sank down, impaling herself on his hard length.
They groaned in unison, rolling their hips, breath mingling as they gripped each other.
She grasped both of his beaded nipples between her fingers and twisted. Clay hissed at the unexpected pain, his eyes fluttering wide and his hands squeezing her hips harder. Pity she’d left the nipple clamps Daniel had made for them as a wedding present at home. She twisted harder, enough that she would leave marks for a while, then released the abused flesh.
Clay wrapped his arms around her waist, dropped his forearm to support her bottom and lifted. She dug her nails into his shoulders. He growled and pushed into her. The water sloshed up on their chests, beading on their skin and splashing over the lip of the tub.
She tucked her knees closer to his body and moved with him. He trapped her gaze, holding it as their flesh joined. Pleasure radiated through her. She watched the rise of lust across his face, felt it grow as each vein and ridge caressed her channel. This was what she hungered for, the connection, knowing they were as one and still desired each other.
Her breath hitched as a hot wave rolled through her, heralding her impending orgasm. She struggled to keep her eyes open, to see Clay’s enraptured face. She raked her nails over the brown discs of his nipples. His back arched and his hips thrust up harder than before. Grunting, she collapsed against him as his orgasm triggered hers. Her hips bucked, rubbing her clit against him and extending her pleasure.
Clay hugged her to his chest, breathing into her hair and muttering things she couldn’t hear. They stayed like that for several long moments, catching their breath.
“I’m turning into a prune.” She giggled and ran her wizened fingers over his chest.
“Let’s get out. You still hungry?”
“No. I just want to go to bed.”
She sighed and pushed up on weak legs. Clay was there, steadying her as she got out of the deep tub. The floor wasn’t very wet, which was a relief considering she was too exhausted to do more than the last necessary things before sleeping. They towel dried, bumping into each other and laughing about it in the cramped quarters. It felt good. Normal. Something they would typically do at home. She finally pushed him out, clutching her towel to her chest and hiding a yawn.
Her suitcase was crammed into the wardrobe, which required some interesting wiggling to get both doors open. She dug out something to sleep in and pulled the minimum on. Clay was silent on the other side of the room. She dipped into the unopened toy bag and grabbed a staple favorite item. They needed a little affirmation tonight.
When she turned around her heart skipped. Clay knelt by the door, the towel hanging low on his hips and almost superfluous. The deep lines bracketing his hips drew her gaze. She was guilty of painting those with chocolate just for the luxury of licking him clean. Despite staring at the floor, he still smiled. The last bit of remaining tension eased as she walked across the floor to stand in front of him. She used her knuckles to tip his head back and kiss him deeply, thrusting her tongue into his mouth and leaving them both breathless. It wasn’t the protocol they followed, but they needed the affection.
She straightened and grabbed the collar from the shelf. Holding it out, she allowed him to kiss one side then the other. He held perfectly still while she fastened it around his neck. A warm, fuzzy feeling swelled in her chest. This was how she was supposed to feel, loved and honored, not bitchy. She dug the necklace up between the collar and his neck and unfastened it. She paused with the chain in her hand and he kissed the coil of links, peering up at her through his lashes. In his gaze she could see his devotion and yes, love. Technically she should punish him for not holding the submissive posture, but tonight was different. She placed the necklace on the shelf and held her hands out to him.
“Come here.”
The towel fell forgotten on the floor as he surged up and wrapped his arms around her. He lifted her and pressed his mouth to hers. She squealed and hugged him back, wrapping her legs around his waist, allowing him the freedom to return her kiss. Tomorrow she would correct him. Maybe. For tonight, she wanted to love him.
She grinned and slapped his shoulder. “Lie on the bed.”
“Mmm, do you have a surprise for me?” He nibbled her neck and carried her to the bed.
“Maybe.”
She had to give the man props for still being able to make her swoon.
Clay toppled back on the bed, bouncing and going down to his elbows. She bit her tongue to keep from laughing at the way his manhood flopped around. No matter how good a guy’s sense of humor, he wouldn’t appreciate his junk being the point of comic relief. She kneed his legs apart and leaned forward, inspecting his flaccid cock.
“You deserve to be punished.”
“Yes Mistress,” he replied without prompting. His lids were half closed.
“You seem to have forgotten who owns you.” She pulled the oversized lock from where she’d tucked it into her camisole and twisted the arm open.
“You do, heart, body and soul.”
She paused at his deviation from the typical response.
Usually he simply said, “You do.” Her heart stuttered and swelled a little more. Could she love him any more than she already did? Leaning forward, she slipped the lock around his balls and fastened it. It was large enough it didn’t pinch or cut off blood circulation to his testicles, and small enough it wouldn’t come off without being unlocked. In the range of weights, it wasn’t bad, but gave him the sense that she did own him.
She held his gaze. “I do.”
The moment was a fresh breath, a closing o
f the nasty beginning of their vacation and the opening of a new opportunity.
Chapter Three
Bianca climbed onto the bed, careful to not jostle Clay, though why she bothered was beyond her. He could sleep through anything, as he’d displayed yet again this morning when their alarm went off. And she’d always considered herself a heavy sleeper before her husband.
She carefully closed his book, a worn paperback classic, and put it on the nightstand. He had about ten different volumes he read over and over again. She’d hinted at buying him a fancy e-reader for Christmas last year but surprisingly he hadn’t wanted one. The man loved gadgets and he’d actually turned one down. Intrigued, she’d paid more attention to his reading habits and had discovered several tubs of books he’d squirreled away in the garage.
Instead of an e-reader, she’d bought shelves with the intention of putting them together while he was out at a submissive Christmas party. Clay had come home to the parts and pieces all over their condo living room and her, incredibly frustrated. He’d been shocked when she told him they were a present to him so he wouldn’t have to hide his books. She’d surprised him, in a good way.
It was hard work to combine their lives, but they were getting there. Now if only she could do something about his habitual ignoring of alarms.
He lay on his stomach, one knee hiked up and his face buried in an armful of pillows. Even pulling the blankets off earlier hadn’t bothered him. He’d rolled over, probably to provide his bits with extra warmth, and kept snoozing. She straddled his waist and resisted the urge to squirm against him. Instead she leaned forward until her chest was flat to his back and ran her hands along the lean, rippling muscles banding his ribs.
“Hmm?”
She chuckled and pressed a kiss to the crook of his neck. “Sleep well?”
The pillows rustled as he turned his face to peek up at her with one bleary eye. “Hmm.”
She schooled her face into a serious mask. It was hard. He was so adorable in the morning, what with his hair sticking up and his features softened by sleep. “Is that how we’re being this morning?”
“I’m up,” he grumbled, all rough and raspy as he scrubbed a hand over his face.
Ignoring his weak stirrings, because he had no intention of moving in the next five minutes, she twisted around so she faced his ass. The bruises from last week had faded, leaving her a bare canvas to work with.
She bit her lip and swatted her husband’s lily-white bottom. He grunted and lifted his hips, jostling her a bit. She landed another blow to the other side. It was a pity she hadn’t brought the lovely paddle Clay had given her as a wedding present.
For now, her hairbrush would have to work as a substitute. She grabbed the brush from where it lay on the edge of the bed and ran the bristles along the pink flesh. He wiggled his ass, no doubt preferring this brand of wake-up over the alarm. At home she’d made it clear this was one thing she would not take responsibility for. He had to get himself up and out of the house in time for work. But this was a vacation and spanking him was more than a little fun. It seemed as though getting in as the last team was actually going to be a good thing. They had a little time to play, something they clearly needed.
“You’re going to count out one swat for every minute you didn’t wake up on time.”
“Mm, yes Mistress.” He still spoke with a sleep-roughened voice, but the thread of humor was a relief.
She lifted her arm and brought the back of the brush down hard on his ass three times in quick succession.
“One, two, three,” he yelped into the pillow. “Shit.”
“Do you not like your spanking?” She ran her palms over the heated globes.
“I love my spankings.”
To change things up, she delivered two hard blows with the flat of her hand to frame the dark blotches of colors.
“Four, five.”
She kept going until Clay was squirming and his ass flaming red. It would make sitting interesting for a while, but he enjoyed this kind of abuse. Maybe she’d sit in his lap on the train.
“Twenty,” he heaved at last.
“Over.” She sat on the mattress while he gingerly rolled to his back. The lock still clasped his full balls in a blatant statement of ownership. She caressed his stiff shaft with her fingers and cupped his testicles with the other, rolling the weight of the lock with it. “Did this hurt at all?”
“Nope.”
He’d never complained about the use of the lock, but that didn’t stop her from asking. She took the key from where she’d tucked it into her bra and unlocked the weight, freeing his flesh. Bending, she—
“Bianca?” Her father knocked on the door hard enough to rattle the hinges. “Everything okay?”
Cold shock splashed through her. She stared at Clay, who had the same wide-eyed, oh-shit look on his face that probably mirrored hers. She sputtered and laughed.
“You’re naked,” she hissed to him and bounded toward the door.
“I’m in bed.” He grabbed the sheet and scooted off on the side closest to the bathroom.
“Everything’s fine, Dad,” she yelled through the door, covering her mouth to muffle her giggles as Clay scuttled into the bathroom and closed the door behind him.
“You sure? Need anything?” He sounded perplexed, and really, she didn’t blame him. Had they even tried to be quiet? Had her family heard her beating Clay’s ass?
She sucked in a deep breath and tried to wipe the guilty look off her face. Opening the door, she grinned at her father as if she hadn’t been about to give her husband a blowjob after delivering a spanking to him. “No. Still getting ready. Everyone else left?”
He gazed down at her, brows drawn down and mouth scrunched up. “Yes, just waiting on you two.”
“Okay, well, we still have a half hour before we can leave, right? Just waiting on Clay to get out of the bathroom and we’ll be out.” She raised up on tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “See you in a few?”
She politely, if a little abruptly, closed the door in her dad’s face and put her back against it. Clay peeked out from the bathroom and they both dissolved into a fit of giggles.
* * * * *
Clay reached for Bianca’s mini-backpack, but she yanked it out of his reach.
Her brows shot up and the mischievous twinkle in her eye ate at him. “No.”
“What do you have in there?” he muttered so her parents wouldn’t overhear. They’d been breaking out into fits of laughing since nearly getting caught by her father. It was like being a kid and sneaking around with his girlfriend, except more carefree.
“Nothing you need to worry about,” she whispered.
Heavy footfalls punctuated by sharp clicks heralded her parents joining them in the foyer of the apartment. He settled the team backpack on his shoulders and tightened the straps a bit until the weight felt evenly distributed.
“I don’t care if it is fifteen minutes too early,” Mrs. Shoeder announced, waving the blue envelope.
Adrenaline spiked at the sight of the day’s first clue. He’d be lying if he didn’t admit he wanted to win, or at least try to. He had a feeling that trying would be a lot more fun with Bianca on board today.
Mr. Shoeder rested his hand on his wife’s back and smiled at Clay. Would he still be smiling if he knew his daughter had been administering a spanking a few minutes ago? He’d never had to worry about anyone except his employer becoming aware of his hobbies, but now there was Bianca’s family. It was a whole new dynamic.
“You’re right. Are you two ready for today? Get plenty of sleep?” Mr. Shoeder asked.
“Yes sir,” Clay responded, squeezing Bianca’s hand.
Mrs. Shoeder practically vibrated with excitement. “Okay, here’s your first clue. Good luck, you two!”
Bianca accepted the envelope with a whole new attitude compared to the previous day. She grinned at him as she ripped the paper open and produced a white card with a single sentence.
; “You will hear the Angel of Music at this location patronized by the Viscount of Chagny.” Bianca gaped up at him, her green eyes wide. The significance of the clue was lost on him. “Phantom of the Opera, Opéra de Paris.”
“Oh.” He was guilty of tuning out when the movie was on, though he’d sat through it enough times. He kept meaning to read the book, but it was one he hadn’t gotten around to yet. He grinned at her and grabbed the door. “Let’s go.”
Hand in hand, they tore down the hallway.
“I can’t believe that clue is so easy.”
He held the door to the stairs open for her and followed her down. “Maybe the challenge there is really hard?” He didn’t believe they would beat her brothers or their wives to the Opéra, his main hope lay in that they could eat some time by being fast and working as a team.
“I’m not going to count on it,” she said, echoing his thoughts.
They hit the sidewalk at a jog toward the nearest train station and he dug around for his phone. There were a few apps that helped navigate the city and communicate. He couldn’t imagine trying to get around without them. With a few clicks, he was able to pull up their location and destination to plot a route between them.
“We need to get on the RER A line. I think if we go two stations we’ll be able to change trains.” Would her brothers think about using their phones? Indulging himself with international access was turning out to be worth every penny.
“Great. Did you grab the Métro tickets?”
“Shit.” Guilt assailed him. How much was he going to sabotage this trip?
Bianca grabbed his wrist awkwardly, the pumping motion of his arms disrupted by her counterbalance. “Don’t worry about it. We’ll grab more tickets.”
“I’m sorry, B.”
She huffed as she jogged. They needed to think about adding some more cardio to their routine. Yoga and spin classes weren’t going to cut it at this rate.
“I said don’t worry about it.” She grinned. “You’ll pay for it later.”
His eyebrows crawled up his forehead. He glanced at the little pack bouncing on her back. What did she have planned? He really did not deserve someone as creative and fun as her.
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