Page 4
Author: Tiffany Reisz
Brad straddled her hips and Nora took a few slow, calming breaths. No one had been inside her for two months. And at this angle in this position. . . this wasn’t going to be easy.
Close your eyes and think of England. . . Nora repeated Queen Victoria’s famous wedding night advice to herself. England. France. Europe. Castles. . . dungeons. . . men who didn’t speak English. . . the canals of Venice. . . water lapping at the sides of her boat. . . the wheels of trains passing through the Alps. . . the sounds of buzzing. . .
Buzzing?
Brad pushed a hand under Nora’s hips and lifted them an inch off the pillow. She flinched with pleasure as he pressed a butterfly-style vibrator against her clitoris. A hand on her back guided her back down into the pillow, the vibrator firmly nestled against her, sending waves of bliss reverberating through her hips and stomach and thighs. Over the buzzing she heard the unmistakable sound of foil tearing.
Nora turned her face into the burgundy silk as Brad pressed his knees against hers. As wet as she was and as open, Nora took his full length into her easily. She groaned as he filled her inch by inch.
“That’s a good start,” he whispered in her ear. “I think we can turn the volume up a little though. ”
He punctuated the suggestion with a thrust, hard and deep. Nora gasped and pushed into the vibrator. Her clitoris pulsated with sensation. She pulled against the ropes that tied her to the bedpost.
“You can’t get away. . . ” Brad trailed kisses across her shoulders. He moved slowly inside her, pulling himself out to the tip before pushing back in. Nora’s gasps turned to moans and back to gasps again. Brad set a steady pace and didn’t deviate from it no matter how Nora moved underneath him. He kept her perched on the edge of ecstasy but didn’t push hard enough to send her over. Instead he continued to thrust with precision and control. It seemed to go on forever. Nora felt herself rising off the bed as she fell into the rhythm of the sex. God, she missed this. And not only the penetration, the physical sensation, she missed being underneath a man, missed being dominated, being used. She shouldn’t like this feeling so much. It put terrible thoughts in her head. Thoughts of him. . . the man who’d found her, made her, changed her, and loved her. The man she’d left and would never go back to.
Brad slipped his hands over her ribcage and cupped her breasts, holding them as he began to thrust harder into her. With such force she should have been moaning with pain, but the vibrator pulsed into her clitoris and the harder he pushed the more she wanted. Her breathing grew louder, more ragged, more desperate and hungry. She heard Brad’s own grunts of pleasure in her ear. She let out a moan, deep and throaty, and Brad started to pound into her with brutal force. The pleasure slammed against pain and pushed back into pleasure. Brad reached under her and forced the vibrator even harder into her.
Nora buried her face in the sheets. Brad dug his teeth into the back of her shoulder. When she came, she came with a scream even the bed could not muffle. But not even her scream could cover the sound of Brad’s groan as he flinched and shuddered with his own powerful orgasm.
Passively Nora lay beneath Brad as he caught his breath before pulling slowly out of her raw body. He untied her wrists from the bedpost, unstrapped her ankles from the spreader bar. Nora rolled onto her back, looked his naked form up and down, and laughed.
“Yes, laughing at me while I’m naked,” Brad said as he looped the rope and knotted it neatly. Nora saw the amusement in his eyes. “That is sure to get you into my good graces. ”
“I’m only laughing because your nickname is so appropriate. . . Mr. Big Brad Wolfe,” Nora said with nothing but appreciation for his big-Bradness. “Is Wolfe really your last name?”
Brad gave her a wink.
“Is Nora Sutherlin really your name?”
“Touché. So it’s been an hour. And you made me scream, you bastard. Do I win? Do I get my five minutes with the Dame?”
Brad sighed heavily.
“Talking about your one motivation for letting me beat you and fuck you won’t really get you on my good side either. ”
This time, Nora couldn’t see the smile.
“Brad. . . you knew I was here to see the Dame. One hour with you, five minutes with her. That was the deal. ” Nora raised up on her elbows, wincing at the soreness between her legs.
“The deal. Right. ”
“You and me. . . we’re supposed to be professionals here,” she reminded him.
“I don’t fuck my clients. ” Brad pulled on his pants with brisk efficiency. “Neither do you, I hear. What happened here wasn’t business. ”
“Yeah. . . but it was a lot of fucking fun. ”
Brad finally cracked a smile.
“I can’t argue with that. Okay, get dressed. The Dame’s office is opposite this one in the other hall—black door, red knob. Don’t bother knocking. Just go in. ”
“Will she be nice to me?”
“Depends on her mood. I’ll see you out. ”
Brad left without even kissing her goodbye. Then Nora realized how odd it was she even wanted him to. Just sex. Just a trade. Just business. Right?
Careful of her flogged back, Nora dressed in her skirt and corset and pulled on her red cloak once more. She took her time for reasons she didn’t want to consider. She needed to get this over with so she could get out of town and forget about Kingsley, about the Black Forest, and especially about the Big Brad Wolfe. She’d lay down her little red riding crop for a few weeks and come back to New York more vicious than ever.
Nora strode down the hall to the black door with red knob. After one quick breath, she turned the knob, stepped inside and felt her jaw hitting the floor.
When she finally picked it up again, she could only manage one single sentence.
“My goodness,” Nora said to The Dame, “what a big. . . crop you have. ”
***
Brad escorted Nora to the door of the Black Forest.
“So what are you going to tell Kingsley?” he asked, running a hand up and down Nora’s arm.
“I’ll tell him the truth. I met The Dame. I talked to The Dame. The Dame promised to stop poaching King’s people if King promises he’ll stop sending spies into Black Forest. ”
“Very good. What if Kingsley asks what The Dame is like?”
Nora grinned up at Brad, up at the mysterious Dame who no one ever saw but everyone had heard of.
“Like I said, I’ll tell him the truth. I’ll tell him The Dame is amazing in bed. ”
“You can also tell Kingsley The Dame will send Hunt back to him if Kingsley’s willing to give the poor boy two days off a week. ”
Nora nearly sagged with relief.
“You’re giving Hunt back? I’m a better lay than I thought I was. ”
“Top five of my life. Definitely. ”
“Thank you, Sir. You’re not so bad yourself. ”
With a final grin thrown over her shoulder, Nora left the club and headed back to the real world, to the streets of Manhattan, the streets she couldn’t wait to leave behind. All the way back to her house in Connecticut, Nora thought of Brad and the brilliant ruse of The Dame--the club-owner no one ever saw but ruled her dark little world from behind the sheer curtains of Black Forest. She’d somehow earned Brad’s trust, earned a glimpse behind that curtain. And more importantly, had earned her month off, her month in Europe.
She barely slept that night while trying to decide where she’d go, what she would do with all her time off. The next morning she packed fast, grabbed her passport and decided to book a ticket at the airport. Fate would decide her next move. She’d pick a destination based on the next flight out when she got there.
At Kingsley’s townhouse, she picked up her last paycheck for four weeks and parked her car in his garage. In the cab, she told the driver to take her to JFK and drop her at any gate she wanted. Nora leaned back in the seat
and closed her eyes. Freedom. . . she’d earned a month of freedom. No boss to tell her what to do, where to go, what people to beat. Exactly what she wanted, right? So why did she feel so uneasy?
The cab jolted as it hit a bump and Nora opened her eyes.
“What happened?”
“Sorry, Miss. Construction. Had to take a detour,” the driver said.
Nora nodded and looked out the window. To her right she saw none other than the entrance to Black Forest. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat as memories of Brad inside her body caused desire to well up inside her hips and stomach.
The cab started to inch forward and Nora let out a “Stop!” saying the word before she even knew why.
The driver slammed on the breaks. Nora grabbed her suitcase and threw a hundred through the window.
“I’m getting out here. Thanks. ”
Nora half-walked, half-ran to the door of Black Forest and knocked until her knuckles turned red.
The door flew open.
Brad stood staring at her. The stare turned into a smile that turned into a laugh that filled the Black Forest.
“My. . . what a big smile you have,” Nora said, trying to rein in her own idiotic grin.
Brad grabbed her by the arm, pulled her into the club, and slipped his hand under her skirt.
One kiss on the lips turned into another and another.
“Why. . . ” he whispered as his mouth trailed down her body, “all the better to eat you with. ”
Little Red Riding Crop Page 4
