Thwack! again. This time a bit higher, near the small of my back. I grunt and jerk toward the pillory this time. My cunt is so wet I can feel my juices trickling down my inner thighs. My breasts ache with the need to be touched, stroked, and when they brush against the cool pillory, it feels like electric sparks zip through them.
“Impressive,” he drawls. “You’ve never once used our safe words. No yellow or red for you, huh? What if I spank just a bit harder.”
Another slap jiggles my butt, searing pain up my spine. I grit my teeth and internalize the pleasure, which shivers through me.
“Very good.” His voice is closer now, and his big hand wraps around my shoulder. “And, if you were truly my submissive, you would call me master. You’d be my mistress. Would you like that, darling?”
“Just quit talking and spank me.”
His chuckle at my response blows warm air across my neck and I tremble. “I think I have my answer,” he says, as his hand leaves my skin.
But this time he changes things up. No more sharp raps burn across my cheeks. Instead, he begins to caress me with the flattened tip of the riding crop once more, using it to soothe the sting in my butt.
“But I do like to switch things up, too,” he tells me as the crop glides lower, skimming along the hem of my skirt, which has inched higher up my thighs with every movement. “I’d let you spank me, too. You’d definitely be a brat, and a hell of a lot of fun to punish often. I’d give you so much erotic torment your mind would explode.”
I bite my lip as the crop sweeps over the crease where my leg meets my crotch. My cunt throbs like a maddening itch that needs to be scratched and I can’t help myself. I jut my hips backward, giving him a better view and better access to my cunt.
He gives a low moan that sounds almost like a growl and the crop nudges under the hem of my silky panties. It’s cool, leathery tip now touches my bare outer labia. My pussy and entire pelvis tenses.
“We agreed there’d be no direct contact with naughty bits,” I rasp out.
The tip of the riding crop ceases movement, but its mere presence seems to brand my skin and I struggle not to wriggle. I want it sliding up inside my wet inner labia, want it to grind into my clit and make me come, but I’m too stubborn to confess this just yet.
“If you’re not comfortable, we can stop right now. I’ll never do anything you don’t consent to. Just say the safe word and I’ll end practice.”
He waits, crop still poised just under my panties and held still. I squeeze my eyes shut and duke out a war in my mind. The rational lawyer-to-be screams, “Get away now!” The wanton woman urges me to let him get me off. Just this once won’t hurt.
“Go for it,” I say. “Just this once. I’m good.”
The tip of the crop slinks closer to my inner labia and I sigh loudly, unable to stop myself. It parts my slick lips and runs up and down this charged, wet flesh. My pussy pounds with the need for release and I rock my hips backward once more, earning another throaty chuckle from him that almost sounds like a groan.
The tip teases my hole, poking in just enough to fan the fire in my cunt higher but not enough to give me release. Now I’m mewling like a horny alley cat and my eyes squeeze shut for a moment. My arms are starting to ache from being strung above my head for so long, but I barely notice the pain I’m so lost in this bliss.
The riding crop now slinks toward my clit and I arch back even farther to meet his touch. First he grinds it back and forth over this bundle of needy nerves, making me rock my hips in time with the strokes. I pant as the stimuli makes this tiny bead of flesh swell so much it feels it will burst.
Then he swirls circles over my clitoris, alternating between this and gentle slaps. Soon the orgasm shatters deep inside me and rockets through my pelvis. I let out a loud whimper as my every muscle shakes with release. When the climax subsides, I sag against the pillory and catch my breath.
The touch of the crop leaves me, only to be replaced by his warm, wide hands at my ankles. Snick, snick. He undoes the ankle cuffs, and then the lech slowly runs his fingers up my sides, presses his body against mine, as he makes his way toward the wrist manacles and unfastens those also.
He kisses my ear and whispers, “Did you like that?”
As my arms slowly lower from the open bonds, his lower with them, and I’m wrapped in his strong, secure embrace. My heart beats like a tribal drum in my ears and I hate the way my breathing betrays me, but I never want him to let me go.
“Yes.” I turn and face him, run a hand down his bristly cheek.
His face moves closer to mine and our eyes meet. That royal blue threatens to draw me in deep and drown me, but I don’t resist the pull. Soft lips push into mine, sweeping up to catch my bottom lip between both of his and suck, nip, before his tongue flits out to taste where he has just bitten. I moan and reach up to wrap my arms around his broad shoulders.
Our tongues slide across each other. Our lips crush tighter together and I give soft moans inside his mouth as the kiss deepens. I cling to him as his bristly stubble grazes over my lips. I suck on his bottom lip and tug it gently with my teeth. He groans and pulls me tighter against him. Through his jeans, I can feel his erection pressing into my lower belly.
I throw the last traces of caution away as I break our kiss. “Go get a condom.” Then I reach down between us and rub the growing bulge in his pants. “I want you to fuck me. Right now.”
He pulls back but his arms still encircle me. “Are you sure? You were the one who insisted on the no sex rule.”
I nod and swallow again so my heart won’t jump into my throat. “I’m sure.”
With a wide smile, he leaves me long enough to grab protection, and he sheds his clothes as he does so. When he returns, he’s naked and ready, condom in hand. His thick cock bounces against the base of his stomach and I can’t take my eyes off it.
I move to the rack and place my palms on its polished wood surface to scoot my butt up onto it. There I wait and watch him approach. I’ve now shed my clothes too and I spread my legs, raising them high in the air to display my wet pussy for him.
“You’re so beautiful,” he tells me as he grips my ankles and then plants kisses on each one.
He kisses and licks from my ankle to my knee and then lower. By the time his tongue flits out over my already sensitive clit, I’m on fire with the need to be fucked. But I let him eat me out until I hover on the edge of another climax, then I stop him and beg to be fucked. He wastes no time ripping open the condom, sliding it on that magnificent cock, and then plunging it deep inside of me.
I drape my legs over his wide shoulders and he tells me to lean back as he thrusts in and out of me. One big hand trails between my legs and he plays with my clit while his cock pumps in and out of me in measured, sensuous strokes. My cunt closes tight around him, milking him of all the bliss he can give. The walls of my sex try to draw him deeper in, pulling his glans against my g-spot and never wanting to let it go. It rubs over that tiny bean-shaped area perfectly, and sparks of pleasure sear through me until I moan loud and long.
His fingers work my clit still, rolling it between his thumb and index finger, making my hips buck up faster to meet his touch and take his cock deeper still. Then the amazing pressure building in my g-spot melts into the wonderful sensations flooding my clit and I come so hard I see stars bursting behind my eyelids when I close them. I cry out in my release and he follows soon after, thrusting all of his cock inside me once, twice, and then spilling his seed.
He gathers me against him when we’re done, pulling me into a tight hug as we catch our breath. My traitorous heart doesn’t want to ever leave his arms.
***
“Ha! I knew you’d crack!” Jeanie pops the cap off her beer then wags a finger at me.
I roll my eyes at her and the smirking Felicia and laugh. “Shut up. Both of you.”
They titter like we’re still in high school.
“You know what this means, right?” Felicia’
s eyes glimmer with mischief as she hands me a beer. “You have to invite him to the wedding. I mean, you do need a date.”
I nearly choke on the swig I’ve just taken. “No way.”
Felicia nods emphatically. “Yes way. He’s perfect, Christy. And haven’t you just spent the last half hour telling us how he’s different from the other bad boys?”
Jeanie nods in support of our wily blonde friend. Damn her. “A gentleman biker,” she says, giving a smug look. “Wasn’t that what she called him?”
Felicia nods again, looking far too pleased with herself. “So, it’s settled. You have to have a date for the wedding, and now you’ve got one.”
I sigh and shake my head at them both. “I was just going to ask my cousin Frank. And Rider’s not really a biker, technically. He just owns a Harley.”
Jeanie wrinkles her nose. “Whatever. Frank’s boring and he picks his nose when he thinks no one’s looking.”
Felicia crinkles her face. “Ewwww, I know. See, that just proves Rider is the better choice.”
Throwing my hand up in the air, I relent. “Okay, fine, I’ll ask him.” Then I childishly stick my tongue out at them. “You damn bullies.”
Jeanie snorts laughter. “Riiiight.”
She throws a couch pillow and smacks me right in the side of the head. I laugh and retaliate with a handful of potato chips.
***
I invite Rider to Your Daily Cup so I can ask him to be my date at Felicia’s wedding, which is only a day away now. He teases it’s our first official date, and I tell him it’s just coffee and me begging for a favor. I have actually quit the place now, but I kept my job as a part time legal assistant. Rider was annoyed by this because he said it showed a lack of trust in his employment. I said I was just being practical and he quit bugging me about it.
“So what’s the favor?” he asks after swallowing a sip of his black coffee.
I screw up my nose, stall for time by sipping my chai. “I need you to come to Felicia’s wedding with me.”
He makes a face and my hope he’ll say yes sinks. That little worm of doubt is back, gnawing on my brain stem. It whispers maybe he does like me as much as I thought. Maybe this is a fling and I’m once more a stupid fool for being infatuated with a bad boy.
“Felicia forced me to ask you,” I blurt. “It’s either you or my cousin that picks his nose.”
His eyebrows raise and his face is now an impassive mask I can’t read. I hate that.
He rubs his stubbly chin and cheek, stares into his coffee, then let’s out a long exhale before looking at me again. “Okay, I’ll go with you,” he says, but the smile he gives seems worried, not genuine.
I want to shout at him that he doesn’t have to worry. I won’t get hooked on him, won’t fall in love with him. And thankfully I haven’t gone that far yet, but I feel so stupid for once more misreading his signals. Obviously he doesn’t want anything serious, and he thinks if he goes to this wedding with me it’s a symbol of a deeper commitment. Feeling peevish, I decide to lay it on the line.
“It doesn’t mean anything,” I snap irritably. “Felicia probably just wants to drool over you. Jeanie too. And I just don’t want to go to a wedding with a nose picker.”
His frown deepens and he almost looks hurt, but I decide I’m seeing what I want to see. He’s probably relieved I want to keep it so casual.
“I said I’ll go.” His jaw clenches and unclenches.
“Fine.” I sip my tea and fume internally.
How could I be such a dumbass? I’m just an employee to him and I shouldn’t have deluded myself into thinking differently. The fact we had sex doesn’t mean anything, and the gentleman I fooled myself into believing he had a spark of just simply isn’t there.
Dumb, I scold myself. Really dumb.
I should swear off men forever. As I take another sip of my tea, I wonder if the Buddhist monks would let me hide out in the Tibetan monastery for a while. At least then I’d be safe from bad boys.
***
Felicia’s wedding is spectacular, if you like weddings. Me? I’m more an elope at the last minute type of gal. Oh, sure, I’ve always wanted to find that special guy who can be my friend and lover, but I’ve never been into big weddings. I once made Felicia snort coffee through her nose when I told her all the money wasted on that special day could be put to better use by putting a down payment on a house.
“You just don’t get romance, do you, Christy?” She giggled at me.
I shrugged. “Oh, I get romance. I’ve just got a more practical notion of the word. A man who washes dishes for me is far more hunky than a man who spends way too much money on a dozen long stemmed roses.”
She giggle-snorted at me again.
Now that the ceremony is over, we head to a very exclusive restaurant for the reception. I can only imagine the price tag on the food and rental for the upscale place. Ron and Felicia will be in debt until they retire.
Rider has been quiet and antsy throughout the whole ceremony, and his ready to run attitude is really starting to annoy me. What, did he think I’d march him down the aisle at bouquet-point and make him marry me too?
When we get inside the music, present, people, and food filled restaurant, he pulls me close and whispers, “I think I’m just gonna mingle for a bit. You okay with that?”
I hope my suspicion doesn’t show in my look. Is he planning on scoping out the babes or something? And why am I letting that silly green-eyed monster—jealousy—get the best of me?
“Sure.” I shrug, adjusting the top of my coral, strapless bridesmaid gown. “Do whatever you want.” Thankfully, Felicia picked some satin and chiffon styles that end at the knee and aren’t hideous beyond belief.
He gives me a glance that seems to ask if I’m mad at him, but I say nothing. Instead I wander away first and don’t even bother to take a parting glimpse at him over my shoulder. I snatch up a flute of champagne from a passing waiter’s tray as I go and I down it in two gulps then search for another.
The main banquet room is set up for drinks, hor’ d’oeuvres, and dancing, while the adjoining room is where a huge buffet has been set up for dinner. Felicia had her formal dinner the night before the wedding because she wanted the reception to be all about partying. I wander toward the back of this area where I find Mary and Eve sitting on a bench sipping champagne and perusing the dancers for potential partners.
Mary’s eyes go huge when she sees me and she waves her hands frantically to indicate “Come here!” I wonder what tidbit of gossip she is dying to tell me now, and how long will she keep me here, chewing my ear off with said juicy morsel.
“Christy!” she says it loud enough for half the restaurant to hear. Mary is a sweet girl, but she’s always been a tad over exuberant. “Get your butt over here. I want details!”
I cast her and Eve a confused glance, feeling my brow crinkle with my bewilderment as I move closer. “Details about what?” Then it dawns on me. Dear god, Felicia and Jeanie have told her all about me working for Rider. I try to hunch over and shrink inside myself.
She holds out her hands and grabs mine when I draw close, pulling me to sit between her and Eve. “About what. As if you didn’t know.” She rolls her eyes at me and grins mischievously. “Were you shocked when you found out who he was?”
I squint at her, feeling like I’ve come into a conversation that’s half over and I missed the most important parts. “Shocked when I found out who who was?”
She shakes her head at me as if I’m a three-year-old who keeps coloring outside the lines. “Rider, of course.” And when I still look confused, though my heart has now gone into Jack Rabbit mode, she add, “Seth Sykes. Remember? The kid who kept eating all his erasers in school? Didn’t the teach take his pencil box away because he’d eat like a whole box of erasers a week?” She laughs at this. “You tutored him when we were in high school. Math, right?”
My stomach sinks to my shoes. I look at Rider talking with Felicia and Ron and it hits m
e. Through the long, curly hair, tattoos, stubble, and royal blue eyes, I see the kid he once was. A geeky BMX aficionado who loved classic heavy metal and horror movies. We used to talk about old Nightmare on Elm Street movies on the playground. He wanted to take me to junior prom, but I wouldn’t go with him. I turned him down every time he asked me out, until he moved away when we were in Grade 11.
Back then, Seth ‘Rider’ Sykes (nicknamed as such for his skill with a BMX bike. Okay, a lame nickname, but we were kids. What do you expect?) had short hair because his mom would never let him grow it past his ears, which he constantly complained to me about. He’d worn thick glasses and had a face full of pimples. He’d also been a skinny, short boy back then.
Time had definitely been kind to him. He’d filled out, shot up at least five inches, lost the glasses, got tats, stubble, and I wonder what his ultra-conservative mom thought about that? But what I wonder even more is why he lied to me, and had Felicia and Jeanie known all along?
And if he lied about this, just what else has he lied about?
Anger starts to grow low in my belly. It is a hot ember that quickly unfurls and climbs up to my chest, making me breathe faster, making my limbs start to shake.
Mary touches my arm. She looks sympathetic when I turn to her, obviously seeing my surprise and fury. “You didn’t know.” Her face crumples and I know she is regretting her trademark big mouth. “Shit, I am so sorry, Christy. I thought he and Felicia had told you by now…”
My rage spikes higher. “Tell me about what?”
She bites her lip and I know she wants to shut up, but there is no way I’m letting her now. So she continues in a small voice, “Felicia, Jeanie, and Seth set you up that night, at the bachelorette. You were meant to meet him and get together with him. They planned the whole thing.”
I don’t wait or press for more details. Instead I snatch another flute of champagne off a waiter’s tray, down it in one swig this time, and I stagger toward them. The alcohol is starting to hit me and I’ve got a slight buzz that bolsters not only my anger but also my courage.
Surrender Boxed Set (Surrender Series Volume 1 - 7. BDSM romance with man love, bad boys, and billionaires.) Page 24
