by Lund, S. E.
"I don’t want to either, but it's either take the day class or night class."
He took in a deep breath. "Maybe you should stay in your day class."
"Or no class at all," I added.
"No," Drake said and shook his head. "You have to take a class." He paused for a moment. "You said he was only going to share space with your class for a month?"
I nodded and played with his shirt collar. "Yes, for a month or so."
Drake sighed. "I'm sorry this had to happen to you. You see?" he said and bent down to look in my eyes. "You are a very delicious woman. Other men will want you. Will hit on you. I can see I'm going to spend a lot of my time away from you being jealous of their attentions."
"I don’t want their attentions, Drake," I said, protesting. "I only want yours. Honestly. I wish I'd never met him, he's so pushy and annoying and everything he says has a double meaning. He's so…"
"Dominant?" Drake said and cracked a rueful grin. "We tend to be persistent, we Doms, but usually only with those already in the lifestyle and only if we are certain of interest. To pursue someone who isn't interested is boorish." He took in a deep breath, and ran a finger over my bottom lip. "So you think he's a Dom?"
I hesitated. Now I knew he was.
"There's something else," I said, my voice soft.
"What?" When I hesitated, he turned my face to his, his expression dark. "Tell me."
"He said something."
"What did he say?"
"He called me ma petite chérie like you did while we were in scene at the dungeon."
Drake closed his eyes. "Christ…"
"So, that means we were in a public room," I said it as a statement more than a question, my heart rate increasing at the thought.
He shook his head slowly. "I'm sorry you had to find out like that. I wanted to wait until I felt you were ready to know. What a bastard he is… Now, there's no doubt he's a Dom and sees you as a potential conquest. He's a jerk, though, because as soon as he saw the collar and heard you were engaged, he should have backed off and been totally polite and respectful. And letting you know he saw you? You don't ask people if they're in the lifestyle. They tell you if they want you to know. You don't let on that you saw them at a function. Their careers may depend on anonymity. That's why I didn't pursue you when I first met you, despite being absolutely smitten."
"You didn't want to try to tempt me with beguiling tales of bondage and dominance?"
"Not on your life. Trying went disastrously wrong the first time I tried with Maureen."
I nodded, thinking of Maureen and how she'd responded so negatively to his attempts to add kink into their relationship. I thought about Kurt as well.
"It's lucky for us both that I was already interested."
"If I had any idea you were…" He laughed. "I would have been on the case even sooner."
"On the case…" I smiled and snuggled into his arms for a few more moments. "The shrimp," I said and hopped up. I went to the oven and checked. It was time to turn them over and so I did, flipping them and pouring more fresh lemon juice over them. They'd be ready in a few moments.
"You were a project," he said as he watched me prepare a salad. "I had to plan for you, plot my way into your mind and between your thighs."
"Were you so Machiavellian?"
"Completely." He poured some more wine. "I intended to have you. I intended to take you off the market. I couldn’t stand the idea that some other Dom, someone who wasn’t quite as gentle as I am, might snag you first."
"I wouldn’t be with someone who was a sadist," I said. "Only someone like you."
"You'd be surprised how far someone can take you, Kate, if they're skilled enough. What if I had wanted to do more than we do now? Did you ever think you'd have sex in public, that you’d be on display for every kinkster in the place to see?"
I shook my head. "I never imagined it."
"What if I wanted to flog you?" he added. "What if I wanted to gag you and do nipple torture or use clothespins on your labia? Would you run?"
I stopped what I was doing and glanced away. Would I try those things with Drake if he really wanted them? An unsettling feeling filled me. I might.
"I probably would let you try, because I trust you enough that you'd stop if I didn't enjoy them."
"But you'd do it at least once," he said. "With someone who is really charismatic, you might do more than you would think, to please him and take the pain, especially if you were really submissive."
"I'd like to think I'd run screaming the other way."
"So would I," he said, his brow furrowed. "But getting back to Sefton, try to ignore him as much as possible."
"I'll try."
I took the shrimp out of the oven and placed them on a serving dish and we were ready for our meal.
The dinner was nice and once we were done eating, we went to the living room to finish our wine.
"Come here," Drake said and motioned to the couch. He sat down in the center, his arms outstretched on the back. "On my lap."
I smiled and complied willingly, sitting on his lap, my legs on one side, my arms around his neck. We remained in that position for a moment, both of us smiling, remembering.
"I remember the first time you sat on my lap," he said. "I was so hard that night, hoping that you'd fall. Worried that you wouldn't."
"I'd already fallen," I said, "but I hadn't hit solid ground yet. It wasn't until you kissed me that I did. It was game over at that point."
"It was game over for both of us," he said, smiling softly.
I snuggled into his arms for a moment, enjoying his scent, a mixture of his aftershave and his own maleness. "I seem to recall you saying something about being a slave-girl, with body lotions and massage oils…" A half-smile on his lips and a gleam in his eye told me he was ready for more than talk.
"We fall out of our roles pretty easily," he said. "I'm such a bad Dom."
"No you aren't." I pulled back and frowned. "You're exactly right for me."
He nodded slowly. "We're right for each other. I should enforce my rules, be a little stricter with discipline though. To make things more enjoyable. Speaking of which, I want you to be my slave-girl for the rest of the night, Katherine…"
I smiled back. "Your wish is my command, oh Sultan."
He kissed me, his lips warm against mine, his mouth tasting a bit like wine. As soon as his tongue touched mine, a jolt of desire went through me and my body responded to the promise of his touch.
He pushed me down onto the couch, his hand slipping under the hem of my dress, pulling it up so that he felt my garters and the tops of my hose. His fingers trailed up my inner thigh before slipping between them to test how ready I was. Of course, I was more than ready, my body responding to the very thought of Drake.
"I want you to take me into the bedroom, undress me, and then I want a full body massage with some nice oil. I want you naked except for your hose and garters. I want you to do all the work. Ride me like a bull."
"A bull, Sir?" I said, batting my eyelashes, trying to sound coy.
"That's right," he said, trying hard not to grin. "A bull. I'm going to enjoy watching you make yourself come on my cock."
My eyes widened. I stood and took his hand, pulling him behind me as I led him to the bedroom. I was only too happy to be his little slave-girl for the evening. The thought he wanted me to ride him like a bull made me want to laugh but it also sent a thrill through me because it wasn’t something I would usually think of. The thought that he was making me do it made it particularly arousing. Like I was being a bad girl, wanton, to take my pleasure using his body while he watched.
I led him to the side of the bed and began undressing him, biting my lip, trying hard not to smile.
"You can smile," he said, a lilt in his voice. "Men like it when their lovers are pleased, excited, enjoying it."
I smiled widely at that and finished removing his shirt, throwing it on the bench at the foot of our bed. He wa
s hard, of course, his erection straining against the fabric of his trousers, and so I knelt and ran my lips over his length, eliciting a soft moan of pleasure from him. I unzipped his pants while still on my knees and pulled down both his pants and his boxer briefs so that his cock fell out heavy and thick in front of me, moisture at the tip. I ran my tongue all over him, from the base to the head, before taking him into my mouth for a brief suck. He groaned when I took him inside as far as I could, swallowing around him and making a moan of pleasure myself, knowing how good it felt when I did.
I pulled away and he stepped out of his clothes so that he stood naked and magnificent before me, his well-muscled body, his smooth skin, his thick cock erect. Then, I removed my sundress so that I was naked except for the hose and garters, as he wanted.
I pulled back the covers so that only the bottom sheet remained, for I didn't want the new quilt to get oil on it. Then, I pushed him on the chest softly. "Lie down, Sir, while I get the massage oil."
He smiled and crept back onto the bed, lying in the center, his hands behind his head. He watched as I went to the bathroom to get the massage oil I bought at the hotel spa and returned with it.
"On your stomach, if you please, Sir," I said, smiling.
"Oh, I please," he said, his voice husky.
He lay on his stomach, his head resting on his hands, and I crawled over top of him, straddling his hips, the bottle of oil in hand. I poured some of the oil onto his back and began rubbing it all over him, enjoying the firmness of his muscles under my hands. I spent time on his arms, neck and shoulders, knowing he must be tense after a long day of surgery, and he sighed heavily when I did. My hands moved lower, and I began working his lower back and hips, then his upper thighs, which were thick and powerful, before I worked on his calves. Last but not least I worked his glutes, which were firm and round. He groaned a bit at that, and I smiled. I slipped my fingers between his thighs and he spread them a bit so I could stroke his balls.
It wasn't like Drake to let me do so much to him. Usually, it was Drake doing these things to me but I guess it was all right because I was acting as his slave-girl
"Turn over now, if you wish, Sir."
"I wish you’d call me Master instead," he replied, turning over. "Master does rather go with slave-girl after all."
"Yes, Master," I said, although I was starting to prefer Sir.
I straddled his thighs once he was on his back, his hands behind his head so he could watch. His cock was very hard and erect now, and in his eyes was a look of pure lust. I knew he loved my garters and hose, and the fact that the rest of me was naked… I felt quite wanton as I leaned over him, my hands on either side of his shoulders and looked in his eyes.
"Would you permit this slave to kiss you first, Master?" I said lightly. His eyes moved down my body as I leaned over him, my thighs spread wide, my breasts exposed as well as everything else.
"I would permit it," he said, a hint of humor in his voice. "Make sure you kiss all of me. Don't neglect the other parts."
"I would never dream of it," I said and bent down to kiss him, my lips pressing against his, holding there for a moment before slipping my tongue inside. He groaned a bit when I pressed myself against his erection, sliding along it.
"You like that, Master?" I asked, feigning surprise.
"I like it very much. Keep doing what you're doing, slave-girl. You're doing a very good job. Except you forgot about kissing all my parts. And the massage."
I rubbed against him again. "Did I?"
He grinned widely at that and then groaned again, his eyes closing when I pressed against the tip especially firmly.
Then, I took the massage oil and worked it into his chest and abs, my fingers trailing down over his pecs and stomach, tracing each hip crest, and then I worked on his thighs, aware of his delicious looking erection inches from my face.
"Sit on me now," he said, as if impatient to get to the fucking part.
"But Master…" I said, a pout on my lips. "I haven't kissed all your parts yet."
I leaned down and ran my lips over his cock from base to tip, licking the drop from the head. Then I kissed it, before sucking the head in my mouth. He groaned and closed his eyes, smiling despite his best attempts to stop.
"Now, Katherine."
I smiled to myself as I pulled off and then I rose up, back over his hips, and he held his erection out for me. I rested my hands on his chest and made a point of missing, rubbing myself against his length so that the tip brushed my clit repeatedly.
"Shameless slave-girl," Drake murmured. "Disobeying your Master's command."
"This slave apologizes, Master," I said, a bit breathless as I rubbed against him once more and he did nothing to stop me. "But she can't help herself…"
I continued to rub myself against him, my eyes closed, for it felt so good I couldn’t stop, enjoying the sensations. When I opened my eyes, I saw that Drake was watching, his eyes half-hooded as they moved from my breasts, which were hanging in front of his face, to my body where it met his cock, to my face. He really enjoyed this so-vanilla sex act.
Then, he moved himself strategically so that when I pressed down again, he entered me. I gasped from the sensation of him filling me up so completely.
"Oh, God," I cried as he brushed against my sensitive spot inside. I was so ready, I knew it wouldn't take long.
"That's what I want to hear," Drake growled and took my hips in his hands as if to help me. I rode him like that for a few moments and it didn’t take long for me to feel the familiar build up of sensation that preceded my orgasm.
"Master I — I'm going to..." I said, barely able to focus or breathe.
He leaned up and took my nipple in his mouth, sucking hard and that was enough to send me over and I closed my eyes, groaning with pleasure.
"Look at me," he said, his voice a low rasp as he took my hips in his hands and helped me thrust.
I forced myself to open my eyes and look at him as I came, watching him watching me.
I collapsed onto him and lay still, unable to keep moving. For a moment, he did nothing as I shuddered around his length. Then, before I had a chance to recover, he lifted me up and flipped me over so that I was now on my back and he was between my thighs.
He kissed me, his mouth covering mine, his tongue finding mine, sucking it into his mouth hungrily, as if he couldn’t get enough of me. His thrusts were slow and deep as he worked himself up to his own release, but he made sure to hit at an angle that brushed a spot inside me that reignited my arousal. Soon, the sensations were building once more, my thighs still around his hips, my feet digging into his thighs as I pulled him down to meet me with each thrust.
"Come again for me," he said, his breath fast, a trickle of sweat moving down his brow.
As soon as I did, he did too, almost immediately as if he'd been holding back, his thrusts fast and hard. When he was finished, he collapsed on top of me, gasping in my ear.
"God, that was good," he said, kissing my neck.
"You are good," I replied, smiling, my eyes closed. "Master."
He chuckled, and I could feel the rise of his cheek in a smile. We lay in silence, both of us recovering, the beat of his heart slow and strong in my ears.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The next day Drake stayed very late at the hospital to deal with a patient who took a turn for the worse, and I was asleep when he came home.
I missed him terribly during the day, but spent my time working on a new canvas, building it from scratch using the tools Drake had packed away in one of our boxes from Manhattan. It wouldn't be quite as big as the one I had done of Drake before. Instead, it was a more intimate portrait based on a photograph I took of him leaning back in the bathtub, his arms on either side of the old claw foot, his head back, lips softly parted, his hair wet. He was so beautiful, his shoulders and arms so well-developed, his jaw square and covered with a bit of scruff. The perspective would be difficult, but once the canvas had been covered with a s
econd coat of gesso and had dried, I could begin sketching out the drawing.
I called my father using Skype and we had a quick chat about his campaign, which was closing in on the nomination meeting to determine if he would be the candidate. He was pretty confident but it was always possible that his opponent could drum up enough support at the last minute to win the most votes.
"How's that man of yours?" he said in his gravelly voice. "Is he treating you like a princess?"
"Daddy," I said, my voice chiding. "I'm not a princess."
"Isn't he treating you well? I'll have to speak with him…"
"Father, he's treating me wonderfully. But he's awfully busy right now, shadowing Michael Owiti, his boss. He's teaching two classes and will be taking on a surgical slate of his own. I'm taking an art class at the Nairobi Institute for Fine Arts. The instructor is an award-winning artist."
"That's great," he said, his voice sounding pleased. "I'm so glad you'll get the chance to work on your art. I was a bit upset when you didn't major in art when you went to Columbia."
"You were?" I frowned. "I thought you wanted me to take journalism."
"I wanted you to take whatever you wanted to take, but I thought it would be fine art. When you said you were thinking of journalism, I tried to encourage you. Like any good father is supposed to do."
"I always thought you didn't want me to study art."
"Of course I did. Your mother followed her passion and was happy because of it. I wanted the same for you, whatever your passion was."
It felt so strange even now to be talking to my father about following my passion. That he even said the word 'passion' surprised me. As a former Marine and as a judge, he was so gruff and business-like most of the time. I had been misreading him all my life, certain he wouldn't understand me or what I loved.
"Can I have more than one passion?" I said. "I love art, but I also love to write."
"You can have as many passions as you want. Follow the one that feels the most urgent. The others will wait."
I nodded, smiling at his image on my laptop screen. His face was a bit grey, but maybe it was the lighting on his side.
