by Angel Payne
She didn’t hide her reaction to that either. She let him take in the new desire that surely took over her face, to go with the thunder of her blood. This new knowledge about him, about this secret world to which he belonged…it shifted an important axis inside her. She admitted this was about way more than her disappointment in Dad’s no-show. Now this was about confronting her need for David, acknowledging that she wanted to please him, in every way possible. Even if it meant trying it his way. Even if it scared the crap out of her. Maybe because it scared the crap out of her.
She pressed nearer to him. Clean, luxurious scents surrounded her. His sandalwood soap. The bleach in his shirt. A trace of aftershave. “And in your imagination,” she murmured, “what did I do?”
She felt his breathing still. His stance stiffened. He pulled away by several inches but didn’t relax his grip. “You did nothing,” he answered. “At first.”
“Why?”
“Because you were on your knees.”
Dasha swallowed. She couldn’t tell if the words were comment or challenge. It didn’t matter. She accepted them as the latter. Using his hands for balance, she slowly lowered herself to the floor. She looked up, hesitant but achingly aware of his whole body now…and cognizant of the distinct ridge in his pants, right at her eye level. “Like this?”
David released one of her hands to stroke the hair from her eyes. His own gaze was hooded and molten…and consumed with her. Everything about the moment moved her in a deep, inexplicable way.
“Not quite,” he finally replied.
The meaning of that came loud and clear. Definitely a challenge this time. And she never backed down from challenges, especially now. Taking a deep breath, she pulled her other hand from his and shirked off her shimmering tank top. A bra had been built into the costume, so now nothing barred his eyes from her exposed, full breasts. His eyes went from gray to kohl, their embers stoked into dark fire. The look hit her like a physical move. Her womb quivered. Her nipples puckered and throbbed.
“Then…like this, maybe?” she managed to rasp.
“Yes.” He drew the “s” out, making it into soft praise. “Better. And beautiful.” He stroked her cheek. “So beautiful.”
Dasha’s skin flowed with warmth; her mind soared with happiness. She smiled up at him. “So where did your imagination take it from here?”
She didn’t expect his answer. He hauled her back to her feet in a sudden, fierce surge. She didn’t get a chance to gain balance, toppling into him, gripping him for simple purchase. He handled her weight without stopping his own action, locking her against him, then kissing her without a second of hesitation or an ounce of mercy.
She opened for him because he gave her no choice; his possession was brutal and absolute, a consuming command. She whimpered, loving the thorough shock of it. He groaned hard in return. The sound vibrated through her as well. She thought he’d let her go then, but no. He tunneled a hand into her hair, seizing the roots, yanking back her head so he spread her wider for him. Now he went at her with his tongue in rhythmic thrusts, making no secret about other acts on his mind. Dasha reveled in every second of the assault. She’d never felt so consumed, so desired. It was exactly what she needed. And she wanted more. Much more.
He pulled away. But not by far. He still held her, cradling her head. His stare was almost black. His jaw was the texture of dark marble. His mouth, slightly parted, dragged in air. Raw heat shot through her bloodstream.
“Before I give you the answer,” he said, “I need to hear that you trust where I’m going to take this right now.”
She forced her reeling head to nod. “Yes,” she answered. “Oh yes.”
“I mean it, D.” His fingers dug deeper against her scalp. “We’ve been through a lot in the last five years. We’ve been across the globe and back together. But tonight…this is going to be a very different destination. Our roles won’t be the same, and you might not like it. I won’t go grabbing you a bottle of water or an extra hairpin. I won’t have time to worry about stashing your lip gloss.” He raked his tongue along his teeth, looking hungry and hot as his gaze dipped to her mouth. “Actually, I’d prefer no gloss, with what I’m dying to do to those lips.”
Desire deepened her dizziness. He was so close now, she nearly tasted him again with every syllable. His breath was laced with spices, a little imported beer, and a lot of arousal. It was all she could do to dip an eager nod.
“You’ll have a way to tell me ‘no,’” he assured. “It’s called a safe word, something specific and definite between us. I expect you to use it if you need to.”
“Uh…huh.” She tried to slam some coherence onto her tongue. “Ruh-ruh-right.” Oh yeah, that went well.
“But make no mistake about it, I’ll be the one in charge.” He framed her face with his hands as he gave the order. “Are we clear? This is a different playing field. I can’t concentrate on reading your body and playing verbal ping-pong with you, so even the way we communicate will be regulated. Direct questions from me; honest answers from you. No using your safe word to control things either. Not that you could get away with that anyway.”
Dasha vacillated between fear and way-turned-on. He was right; he’d always been able to read her like a butterfly under a magnifying glass. It was one of the reasons they made a successful business team. But now, confronting the reality of getting naked with him and then some, she knew he’d now have the biggest window into her soul. The recognition made her tremble in good and not-so-good ways.
She nodded again, more evenly this time. “All right,” she said. “I—I understand.”
“Are you sure? The rules aren’t flexible here. Not right now. It’s your safety at stake.” He wryly hiked a brow. “And likely my sanity.”
“I trust you, David.” She pressed her soul into each word, wanting him to know how much she meant them. “I do.”
He tilted her face up once more and took her lips again. This time, he lingered with it, tasting her deeply, sweeping her mouth with his tongue. But when he pulled away, every elegant line of his face was stamped with command.
“I’m going to give you another second to think about that while I lock the door,” he stated. “I’m also going to tell the limo to wait, then I’m putting my phone on DND. If your answer’s the same, then I want you kneeling on the floor next to the couch, naked and ready, when I get back.”
“All right.”
She gave back the words with eager speed, almost needing to please him—only to have him catch her by the elbow, circling her back to face him again. “When we’re together like this, the proper response to that is ‘Yes, Sir.’” The glittering light in his eyes took away the sting of the words. “It’s a sign of your respect for me, but how you say it also lets me know where your head is at, what you’re feeling. Are we clear?”
“Yes,” Dasha whispered and swallowed hard. “Sir.”
David gave a sharp nod, released her, and turned without another word or touch. Again, confusion swept in. The orders and details from any other man would’ve had her fuming like a soaked cat. Instead, she trembled a little in anticipation. David had always been a man who knew what he wanted and went after it at Mach five, so discovering his private “appetites” wasn’t the biggest jaw-dropper here. But now that he’d mandated total honesty in all this and set the example with his frank and open answers to her questions, Dasha confronted the same in her own heart. His authoritative ways were part of why she desired him. Okay, a really big part. His strength, intensity, and vision had carried her through many a hellish day and just as many nights.
And now, she yearned to have that passion unleashed solely on her.
With hands that shook a little, she doffed her stage heels and pants. She padded to the couch clad only in her tight panties, trying to ignore how the air-conditioning chilled her exposed skin. The floor, though carpeted, covered a plain of concrete, and its hardness only heightened her awareness of being so open, so exposed, so utterly ou
t of her element. Just thirty minutes ago, the two of them had bantered like old schoolyard pals as he guided her back here after the post-show press conference. And now…
She glanced down at herself and shivered again.
Ohhhh boy.
She heard him come back in, lock the door, shed his jacket, and turn back toward the couch. His steps were steady, determined—until he came around the couch and saw her. He halted hard. A huff rolled out of him, almost as deep and dangerous as his next charge.
“Dasha, I thought I said naked.”
“Sorry!” she blurted, scrambling fingers for her lace thong. But before she could get a grip on the band, he caught her by the wrist and pulled her back up.
“No.” He pivoted her around, away from him. “Now you do it my way. Kneel on the couch, legs apart. Now lean forward a little. Spread your arms, then dip your head between them. Good girl. Very good. Christ, you’re gorgeous.”
His voice barely sounded like him now, its register infused with sensual smoke. Those tendrils swirled through her with such magical force, her body seemed to melt—though everything exploded into rocket fuel again as he grabbed her panties at one hip and ripped them in half. He trailed the backs of her legs with his fingertips as he shoved the lace all the way off, igniting more streaks of sensation that shot straight between her legs…the legs he now urged apart by pushing his thumbs against the insides of her upper thighs. As he did, Dasha bit her lip and tried, unsuccessfully, to keep a groan in.
“Lovely,” David murmured. “Keep those coming, sweetheart. I want to hear every reaction you’ve got for me. The louder, the better.”
Dasha frowned. Loud? He wanted her to be loud, here in the middle of the Garden’s backstage? “But—”
He pinched both her ass cheeks. “Doubting me already, sweetheart?”
“N-no. Of course not. But—what if someone—oh!”
The protest fled her as he pinched her again, a little more gently this time but digging closer to the intimate grotto of her vagina. She’d never felt a man’s fingers on her there, like that—but her own reaction stunned her the most. Against all logic or thought, a moan erupted. Adrenaline spiked in her bloodstream. She arched and shoved herself back at him, almost daring him to do it again. Almost wanting him to do it again. Oh God, especially now, as he brushed the skin he’d just inflamed, turning every cell into honey-warm heat.
“David,” she cried. “Oh God, David!”
“Who?” he prompted as he trailed those fingers deeper. Lower.
“S-sir,” she managed, shuddering as he scraped his fingernails up and down her rear cheeks.
“Beautiful.” He kept teasing her with his touch. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re more beautiful than I’d hoped or imagined.”
This was insane. This was magical.
And got even more so the next second, when he dipped a hand again and entered her in one sweep of a long finger.
“What’s this? Your pussy likes this, Dasha. It’s pulsing around my finger. And you’re wet, my dear. Very, very wet.”
“Yes.” It was more a plea than concurrence. “Yes!” She threw back her head as he pushed a second finger in.
“Head down, please.” Steel returned to his tone as he dived a hand into her hair and realigned her head between her shoulders. “I love the way you look right now, sweetheart, so ready and submissive. I’m going to enjoy the view for a minute. Maybe a couple. Get comfy.”
He pulled his hand from her scalp and trailed it down her back, digging at her skin with his fingers. His touch savored her, desired her, consumed her. Her knees started to weaken. Her nerve endings sparkled. He cupped his other hand over her mound while he kept those two fingers so deep inside her pussy. He circled them rhythmically, branding her intimate walls with his touch. She struggled to think about what was happening. This was David: her manager, her friend, her confidante—but right now, it wasn’t. This person, sheathed in the physical shell of him, was an unknown entity to her. A leader in a new world. A commander in a dark, beautiful battlefield between her logic and her senses.
He raked her spine again, claiming her with increasing pressure, burning tracks of possession with his fingers. She felt his desire with every fresh inch he marked, and lost another piece of her senses with every searing sweep.
Until he flipped the world again.
He did it with a fluid sweep, pulling her upright with one jerk, spinning her to face him the next. His grip on her elbows was an anaconda squeeze. Against her naked skin, every thread of his clothes pressed and teased, a silken assault on her senses. His gaze delved into her, equally penetrating.
“Crossroads time,” he said, his voice shocking her for a second with its jagged edge. “And our direction is your choice, sweetheart. I’m going to be clear about what happens if we go on from here. I want you so badly, my full Dom is coming out to play. We’ll set up the rules. You’ll have a safety net, but there’s going to be a lot of me you haven’t seen before. So if the little taste you’ve had so far isn’t your dream, I understand. You just need to say so, and you can get dressed and walk away. No harm, no foul.”
He let silence stretch after that. But he relented on nothing else: not his stare, his grip, or the sexual heat that penetrated to her very marrow. Dasha blinked and pulled in a breath. Here it was. “The crossroads,” he’d said. “Your choice, sweetheart.” Crap, crap, crap. In a way, she thought they’d already gone past this and realized she was relieved that David had effectively taken the choice from her hands…because wasn’t that what dominance implied? But now she recognized that for the false hope it was. This decision was still hers, and it had to be made for the right reasons. Because of David and this new man inside him she’d only peeked at—and longed to see more of. Not because of Dad and the man in him she no longer knew.
Could she really do it? These few minutes had been just a taste. Hell, what was the whole meal like?
Honest response? The answer terrified her.
But honest response, part two: it also thrilled her.
And in the moment of reaching that realization, she compelled herself to reply.
“I’m not leaving,” she told him. “I want this. I want you. Please, David…Sir…I want this.”
Chapter Two
David stared into Dasha’s upturned face and selfishly absorbed the golden perfection of her features. He’d been her manager for five years, had witnessed her passion in the throes of performances, her charm with reporters, her joy in meeting her fans; they were all incredible moments…but none compared to this. None matched the heated desire in her caramel eyes, the longing in her biting at her lip, the tentative tremble of her chin. Seeing this from other subs had always been a heady intoxicant, but this—Christ, this was the best drug on the planet.
Okay, yeah, she was still afraid of what she’d just agreed to. Maybe more than afraid. But he vowed he’d take that trepidation and turn it into the most shattering satisfaction she’d had with a man. Her trust really did work like a drug, jacking his bloodstream with excitement, turning his brain into an erotic space shuttle. Because now he finally had the chance to take out one of his most closeted yearnings: the chance to have this with Dasha. For Dasha.
It was a dream he never thought he’d realize. He’d learned not to air such things when they contained the sexual fantasies even HBO producers wouldn’t touch. He’d fast discovered, upon finding his kink gene in college, that girls called him “Prince Charming” at first base but bolted like he’d become Cyclops at third, after even the gentlest suggestion of an alternative position to “The Big Three.” Even after discovering the beauty of D/s ten years later, he found those girls grown into women who still loved crying “Cyclops” if he even hinted at a little Power Exchange. So he’d shoved his truth into a compartment, hiding it from most of the world. Even from the woman with whom he longed to share it the most.
Dasha.
And now here she was, his breathtaking, submissive dream come true.
The enormity of it didn’t escape him. He needed to do this right. To give her this in all the right ways. That was going to take two acts of God. First, he had to control the wildfire he’d once known as his cock. And second, there’d be teaching Dasha to connect the opposite way, guiding her to disconnect the mental defaults and let her lust take the driver’s seat of her body for a while.
He couldn’t wait.
He was scared shitless.
“Again,” he directed, though his tone was now a buzz saw, conveying his need as much as his command. “Say it again.”
Without a beat, she spoke. “I want you. I want this. Show me. Please. Tonight. Now.”
He couldn’t help but smile, running a thumb along her lips, treasuring her conviction and adoration. It doubled his confidence as well as the satisfaction of murmuring his next words.
“Then on your knees again, darling.”
Only then did her nervousness show again. She hesitated a tiny second, conflict skittering across her face. David watched, fascinated anew by the pause between her reason and her need, and he wondered—prayed—which would win. The triumph was heady when she descended for him once more, a shaky gesture signifying that she too seemed to get what her act meant and what a gift it was to him. He had no idea how she knew; to his knowledge, she hadn’t been boning up on Submission 101.
Christ. That left the hope, however obscene, that she had the deviant gene too. Impossible. Don’t go there, you dumb fuck. Way too impossible.
He drove the thought out completely by setting his sights back on the woman, such a stunning fantasy come to life, in front of him. “Thank you,” he murmured, running a hand across the top of her head. “You please me already. And you honor me.”
