by Angel Payne
Wyatt joined his low groan with hers, letting his tongue swirl hungrily against hers, reveling in the buzzworthy taste of her. Dear God, he had to have more of her. But not right here and now…
Wait.
Why not right here and now?
Readily, he concluded that his cock was ready to fuck her in twelve different positions—but that was only because his mind had already shifted firmly into the domination lane, where the fulfillment of controlling her lust was even better than his own orgasm. It was the very reason he’d made so many calls ahead to Chicago, planning what was going to be the most incredible night of submission she’d ever know—but who said they had to wait for that part for the fun of this adventure to begin? Maybe a little preview was exactly what she needed…
With that thought emboldening him, he took out one of the complimentary blankets that came with one of these first-class thrones and spread it across her lap.
“Oh, my,” Josie cooed, stroking the soft cover. “This is lovely, Mr. Hawkins. Thank you.”
Wyatt smoothed the fabric a little higher, until it was nearly tucked beneath her breasts. Holy fuck, did that dress do all the right things for her cleavage. The pregnancy had given her three extra cup sizes, but so far she’d gone back down by only one, a cause for his own private national holiday right about now. Just the thought of what he wanted to do to them tonight emboldened him to say, “Correct yourself, girl. Don’t you mean, this is lovely, Sir?”
Her gaze flared. Her lips parted. A longing little sigh poured out of them. “Of course,” she conceded quietly. “I meant exactly that.” Her stare dropped into her lap. “And thank you…Sir.”
“Very good.” He modulated his own voice lower, directing the words close to her ear once more. “And now, I’d like you to put that champagne back into the holder. You can have the rest of it in a little bit…when you’re finished pleasing me.”
He saw more of the whites of her eyes, though she obeyed his dictate. “I’m not sure…I understand. Pleasing you? Here, in these seats?” Revelation flashed across her face then lilted her voice. “Ohhhh. Maybe I should follow you to the bathroom? Errrrm…will we have enough room to—?”
He halted her with another kiss, though this time, he didn’t tease his way into her mouth. He crashed his way in, ordering her tongue to make way for him, toppling a good deal of her body’s resistance in the same forceful sweep. That was a very good thing, because he took command of her hand too…guiding it beneath the blanket and between her legs.
From the outside, they probably looked like a lovesick couple in a passionate mackdown. On the other side of the aisle, a guy in rocker denims with Stryper-worthy hair even mumbled, “Lucky bastard.” Wyatt couldn’t say he disagreed. His woman’s mouth was honey and champagne and lust. Her body, now confined under the blanket, was writhing warmth and trembling desire.
Perfect.
She was absolutely perfect.
“W-Wyatt— Sir,” she stuttered, the moment he gave her enough room to even speak. Her sibilance sent wisps of warmth across his lips, weaving a spell through his senses. “Wh-Why… Wh-What…”
“I’m letting you in on the theme for our fieldtrip, my girl.” He spoke it directly against her lips, ensuring nobody else would hear him over the drone of the engines and the constant bong bongs of the attendant call bells. There was yet another perk of flying first class. “By the time we leave Dreamland, you’re going to know never to hide your needs from me again.”
She gasped, having the gumption to look truly outraged. “I— I do not hide—”
“No,” Wyatt volleyed. “You don’t hide things. You only deep-freeze them.” He almost laughed. Fuck, she was cute when she was cheeky. But there’d be time for sharing a few chuckles later. Right now, he was after her full and complete attention—achieved by dipping in and biting his way along her neck and then all the way around the curve of her ear. “And now, it’s time you learned how to melt again.”
As he worked his tongue and lips at all the sensitive skin around her ear, her breaths puffed at a disco beat against his own neck. The heat worked its way under his shirt before zipping to his beltline and then below, making him lift the armrest and slide closer to her, pressing his aching cock against her blanket-covered thigh.
“Oh.” Josie’s high-pitched rasp vibrated along the underside of his jaw. She shifted as if to bring her hand up and cling to him, but Wyatt cinched his hold tighter around her forearm, keeping it locked beneath the cover. “I’m…I’m melting, okay? It’s…it’s working.”
He snarled against her neck. “Not enough.”
“Wh-What?”
“It’s not working enough.” He pushed on her arm, directing her hand toward the creamy juncture of her thighs. “I want you in a puddle, girl.”
“I…I don’t understand…”
“Rub it.”
“Rub…what?”
“You know what.” He worked his grip down to her wrist, guiding her toward the heated triangle at her center. “You’re shielded by the blanket and by me. Nobody’s going to see and nobody’s going to know, except me—and I’m the only one who matters anyway. And now, I’m the one ordering you to do this, Josephine. Slide your fingers into your pussy, find your perfect little clit, and massage it until I tell you not to anymore.”
Her breathing snagged. Her muscles tensed. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”
“No, but I want you out of yours.” He dragged away far enough to confront her by a few inches, turning his gaze to pure command and his jaw to hard steel. “Get to work on getting yourself off, baby girl, or I’ll get on that pretty pussy for you.” He let a knowing smirk show itself in his eyes. “And believe me, I know all the spots that make you scream the loudest.”
She went all kitten on him again—if said kitten had just been dunked in a rain barrel. But even though her teeth were gritted and her eyes were ablaze, she pushed her hand free from his grip and started little circling motions at the center of her body.
Wyatt dropped the smile from his stare. He watched, smoke now invading his senses, for all the outward signs of her arousal. “You’re stunning,” he praised in a whisper. “Look at you, my Josie. So fucking sexy.” He leaned in again, inhaling deep at her cleavage. “I can smell the arousal from your hot cunt. Are your nipples hard under your bra?”
She shivered a little. “Y-Yes.”
He arched a brow. “Yes what?”
“Y-Yes, Sir,” she grated.
“Ah. Good. Very good. And are your thighs tense? Is your ass clenching?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Are you stroking yourself through your panties?”
She swallowed.
For a second, he saw her consider a fib as her reply until she realized he probably already knew the answer. And he did.
Her voice dipping with resignation, she answered, “Yes, Sir.”
“Then push them aside.” He lifted up again, observing her intently. “Put your fingers directly on your clit.”
From the moment she did, he knew it. That sensitive strip of nerves, now stimulated directly, put her entire body on high alert. Her teeth sucked in her whole bottom lip, struggling to keep her shrieks from breaking free. As if her cause was really being served. The energy flowing from her was like a power station about to overload, a tangible warp on the air itself.
“Holy God,” Wyatt rasped, wondering if he’d blow a wad simply from the effect of her heat between their bodies. “You’re brilliant, my gorgeous girl. Astounding.” He took her lips, intending to go gently but finding himself nearly devoured by her answering lunges. “When was the last time you did this for yourself?”
Josie jerked her head back and forth. “D-D-Don’t…rem-m-m-ember.”
“Then that’s too long,” he growled softly. “And now, you’ll rub harder and make it happen.”
“Oh, God.” Her gasps were hot and desperate against his mouth. The blanket shook from the force of her frantic effort. “Oh�
��God…”
“Harder,” Wyatt dictated in a whisper.
“It’s…” She pushed up, biting his lip. “I’m…”
“Faster.”
“I’m going to scream.”
“No.” After tugging the blanket high enough to cover her chest, he reached inside her dress and squeezed one of her nipples. “You’re going to come.”
What a perfect, obedient girl she could be.
What an unspeakable, unforgettable sight her orgasm was.
He helped her, absorbing the burst on her lips with the pressure of his own, though he didn’t shut his eyes during a single second of the contact. He couldn’t. He had to watch as her body coiled and clenched from the effort of not surging out of her seat. He had to feel as wave after wave of her sexual fulfillment rolled over and inside and around her and then pulsed into him.
Then he had to plan…timing exactly the right moment to issue his next order to her.
Not yet…
Her breathing evened. Her body eased back into the seat. Her tremors slowed.
Not yet…
She rocked her head back. Released a soft sigh.
But he didn’t let her get too far.
With their mouths still just inches apart, he gauged the rhythm of her exhalations. Not too fast, not too slow. She was on the downside of her high but not at the bottom yet.
Now.
“Give me another, Josie.”
She jolted, but he was close enough to stop her, enforcing his dictate with the direct pressure of his mouth. Though she groaned in protest, he kept up the harsh kiss, working her lips with his until she relented, letting him conquer her soft recesses with demanding stabs of his tongue and gnashes of his teeth. By the time he was through, the sounds in her throat were twined with conflict. Her logic was locked in a duel with her lust.
The look was sexy as fucking hell.
He soaked it in with sinful, selfish appraisal—almost wondering if he didn’t want to just stop her at this precipice and make her wait for more tonight. But he’d already given her the command, and now the follow-through was necessary.
Besides, there were the fringe benefits to consider.
He still had a hand on one of her breasts. Playing with her erect tip provided a damn good alternative to thinking about his own.
He smelled her pussy even stronger now. The scent was an aphrodisiac all its own.
Best of all, he could use this opportunity to prime her a little for tonight.
“Another,” he repeated, adding a growling undertone for emphasis. “Grind your fingers on your clit, gorgeous girl. Play with yourself until you come for me again. You have no idea how much I enjoy watching your pleasure, Josie.”
His confession pulled her into the realm of at least trying to obey—though her teeth sneaked over her bottom lip, and her brow furrowed in blatant discomfort. “Sir,” she whispered. “I don’t know if I can.”
“You can.” He brushed his lips across hers. “You will.”
“But I’m… It’s still…so sensitive…”
Wyatt used his free hand to adjust the blanket’s coverage. He also angled his body more directly over hers, shielding her more from any curious eyes in the aisle. “Then use your other hand to help,” he instructed. “Fuck yourself with them, as deep into your cunt as you can go, while stroking your clit with the other one.” He waited, looking on like a hawk, as she maneuvered both her hands into position. “Do it, Josephine,” he stressed as she hesitated with a flush extending to the roots of her hair. “This is your test, girl. I have things planned for your pleasure tonight, but they’ll rely on your exact and perfect obedience of your Master. If you can’t comply with what I ask now…”
His deliberate trail-off was unfair but necessarily so. Sometimes a man could melt a glacier; other times he had to take a buzz saw to it.
And when the buzz saw worked, he got to watch the stunning results.
The mesmerizing miracle…
The gradual parting of her lips as she penetrated herself with rhythmic intensity.
The poetic flutters of her lashes against her cheeks as she grinded and pumped and stroked.
The burst of awareness across her face as the certainty of her orgasm built. And built. And pushed. And crashed. And punched her psyche right out of this plane, over the clouds outside, into the stars beyond, and through the cosmos beyond that…
“Kiss me again, Sir.” Her voice was a high, heartrending squeak. “I’m going to explode for you again.”
And fuck, how she did—forcing her mouth into his now, thrusting her heat and life and submission into him, not just giving him her orgasm but gifting him with it. Not just meeting his requirements but exceeding every damn one of his expectations.
Not just obeying him.
Submitting to him.
And never had she taken his breath away more fully.
Never had he been more certain of the plans he’d made for them at Dreamland tonight.
Never was he surer that when they flew back out of Chicago tomorrow afternoon, his glacier girl would be completely liquefied.
He couldn’t fucking wait.
Chapter Five
Interesting piece of trivia. It was possible to feel like the prettiest princess at the ball, even sitting at a BDSM club’s bar, nursing an iced tea.
Key ingredient number one, get lucky enough to land the world’s most amazing Dom, who wouldn’t take no in giving a girl her first orgasm of the getaway trip before the plane had even landed. Just thinking of what Wyatt had made her do was an instant blush inducer, no doubt lending to her overall glow.
Ingredient two? When the same ruthless Dom turned back into the world’s most indulgent husband, insisting they hit Michigan Avenue for some shopping before their luggage was even delivered to their room on the top floor of the Peninsula. The boots on her feet now, as well as her glam eyelashes with the sparkly tips, were a product of that three-hour spree.
Ingredients three and four inadvertently came as a package. When a girl had been through all that shopping and then told to get her ass to the hotel’s spa for her scheduled Healthy Glow facial, that little break was bound to turn into an hour-long nap in the spa’s quiet room.
And yes, there was one more ingredient—and it wasn’t the corset dress, which she counted simply as the icing atop the delicious cake to which all the other fixings had contributed.
The last ingredient—but also the most important.
Wyatt.
Ohhhh, wow. Her Wyatt.
The way he’d reached inside her psyche and seen exactly what her sanity needed. The way he’d been able to step outside of both of them and seen how frayed their connection was really getting.
The way he’d beheld his glacier girl and known she needed a little melting.
All right, a lot of melting.
The way he knew exactly what kind of heat she needed for that, too.
Though right now, she had to admit she felt pretty damn resplendent in her own regard. Maybe not grab-your-shades-suckahs-because-I’m-slammin’-smokin’ time, but decent enough to hold her own on a barstool with a pair of giggling ingénue to her left and an eager pair of Doms eyeing the girls to her right. She was glad she didn’t have to unsheathe her mama bear claws on behalf of the girls, though. The dungeon monitor, apparently a nice guy once one got over the fact he dressed and sounded like Lurch from The Addams Family, obviously had the situation parked in the middle of his radar.
The Doms ordered the subbies a couple of rum and cokes.
The subbies accepted the drinks with shy glances and batting eyelashes.
Jo sipped her iced tea and thanked the dear Lord above, along with every angel in his posse, that she’d never have to worry about the dungeon dating scene. Even with her collar left behind in their room, at Wyatt’s request, she knew she wouldn’t have to worry about any random Doms sliding up with sleazy pick-up lines. As glowy-princess as she felt in her custom black leather and lace, it was s
till clear she wasn’t on the lookout for a play partner. Not enough of her breasts, ass, or desperation were hanging out to broadcast that message…
An assumption she should’ve known better than to make.
As soon as she rested with that conclusion as a comfortable truth, a massive masculine presence scooted onto the barstool between her and the ingénues. Not Wyatt but radiating the same kind of aura. The kind of man who wasn’t just physically formidable but exuded dominance without even thinking about it. Even without the club’s ambient lighting, dark marble columns, and pulsing erotic soundtrack, he’d have detonated a thousand charges of submissive awakening inside Josie. The reaction didn’t mean she wanted to sleep with him—hell, she didn’t even know him—it only meant that certain men called to women like her.
And made them want to fall to their knees.
And say “Yes, Sir” as naughty things were done to them…
Holy shit, she couldn’t wait for Wyatt to get back from checking them into their private room for the night.
She sipped her tea again. And, for the first time, wished Wyatt had instructed her not to order anything stronger. At the time, with his eyes darkened with the promise of making up for lost time when they got to their private play room, she’d gladly agreed to the mandate. Right now, with Dominance on Two Feet parked next door, she wished to numb her nerves with the help of Señor Tequila.
Yep. He had two feet, all right. Clad in a pair of oh-my-God-hot shitkickers, leading to a pair of oh-my-God-even-hotter leathers covering two of the longest, finest, most well-hewn legs she’d seen beyond her own husband’s. She vowed not to gawk at anything beyond that, but then the man spread a hand against one of his massive thighs, making it impossible not to notice the ink on his forearm. The tattoo depicted a dragon straddling a brick, with a length of rope flowing from its mouth into both its talons. At once, Josie identified the design. It was custom and distinct, belonging to a dungeon she and Wyatt had stopped in to when visiting Garrett and Sage in Seattle. The club, Bastille, was co-owned by Garrett’s CO, John Franzen, along with a Dom she’d never be able to forget.
