“Alistair…” She called his name, begging for more, not registering she’d hadn’t used “Sir”.
The burning of her cheeks, now radiating a euphoria. His cock, burrowed deep, thrusting against her. Every nerve ending in her body, her slit, her ass, was on fire. In the best way possible. She could come again. She would come again.
Firm, yet gentle. Pleasure and pain all rolled into one. Submission. Control.
He turned her world upside down, bringing her here — to this, this … new world. Where she wanted again, trusted again. She was herself again.
Her body fell limp, accepting everything he gave her. Himself. His body. Her.
Tears fell from her eyes at the revelation.
Don’t break me, she pleaded to herself, fully knowing this time … if he hurt her, she wouldn’t just be defeated, she’d be irreversibly shattered.
When he maneuvered the toy again, twisting it as he plunged into her, she cried out, pussy clamping around his cock, screaming his name as she came.
His back arched, his pelvis grinding into hers as he plunged again, his cock throbbing with his release as his bellows shook her to the core.
Mine, she thought, shuddering with the emotions.
Yours.
Chapter Thirty
“So, so … so there we were,” Tinker — who liked to be called Tink — recounted the memory she was telling Jayla, through fits of laughter. “Mind you, it’s freezing. Like, close to twenty degrees. But everyone was drunk so no one cared, and there goes Pete, grumbling, as he starts taking off his clothing.”
Jayla’s face was already hurting from smiling so much, but she couldn’t wait to hear the end of the story. She, Alistair, Peter, and Tink were all out to dinner, at another one of Alistair’s favorite places, Gillian’s. They were already on dessert, and for the past hour, Alistair and Tink were sharing anecdotes about their groups of friends — mostly at Peter’s expense. This story, it seemed, was no exception.
“So, he gets in the sleeping bag, zipping it up for the night, and we all pretend to go to sleep. About half an hour later, Gene comes to get me — Pete’s passed out. Me and Gene go in, he crazy glues the zipper shut, and then we glue the bottom of the bag to the tent floor. And then proceed to steal all of his clothes.” Tink looked to Peter, placing her hand on his arm, as she snorted with laugher. “I lost my shit the next morning when he woke up. The tent was rocking — he couldn’t get out of the bag, he was yelling and cursing, and then finally, when free, cursing even louder. He comes running out, bare-assed — except for his boots!”
At this point, Tink began crying with laugher, running her hand under her eyes.
“God, Moira, it wasn’t that funny.” Pete looked away, yet the smile ghosted on his lips.
“Yes, it was!” Tink exclaimed, snorting on the next laugh. “Who accepts a dare to sleep naked, and then leaves his boots on in the sleeping bag? That was the best part!”
Jayla’s eyes began to water with laughter as well, Tink’s facial expressions only adding to the hilarity of the story. “Remind me never to go camping with all of you,” Jayla said, smiling at Alistair.
Pete shook his head. “It was my fault. I should have known, it was Prank Wars season.”
“Prank Wars?” Jayla repeated, turning to Alistair.
Wrapping his hand around her shoulder, he pulled her closer to him in the booth. Kissing her forehead, he explained, “Every winter for the past … what? Ten years?” Alistair asked to Peter, who nodded in agreement. “We have our annual Prank Wars.” He shrugged. “If we didn’t set limits, it would be year-round — trying to out-do each other, and it would get bad.”
Just as Jayla was about to ask him to clarify, Peter’s face dropped. “Oh, shit,” he commented, nodding his head to his left. “Look who just walked in.”
Alistair turned, and Jayla could feel his body tense around her. “Fuck. Head down, maybe she won’t see us.”
Tink snorted. “If only we could be so lucky.” Looking to Jayla, she lowered her voice. “Gene’s ex-wife, Vanessa, just walked in.” Tink lifted her gaze quickly. “I hate that I can’t say she looks awful.”
Jayla’s gaze shifted, looking to find the woman in question, but they mysterious evil Vanessa was out of her line of sight.
“Looks can be deceiving,” Alistair added, just as the waiter came by with the bill. Reaching into his pocket, he took out his wallet, refusing to allow Peter and Tink to contribute.
“It’ll count as a tax write-off,” he winked to them, as they scooted from their chairs.
The four said their goodbyes. Tink and Jayla exchanged numbers, and Jayla promised to call her for the next coffee date with the girls.
“I never would have guessed Peter and Tink are just friends,” Jayla mused on the ride back to Alistair’s house.
“No one would. The only reason we know different is because of Tink.”
“What does that mean?” Jayla asked.
He smiled, squeezing her hand. “We’ve all known Peter’s been in love with her for years. But, Tink’s, uh … well, let’s just say her tastes are much closer to mine than yours.”
“You mean, she’s into the whole Dom thing too?” she asked, confused.
He laughed. “No. Well, I don’t know actually. I could see it.” He shook his head, smiling. “But, no, that’s not what I meant.”
When he didn’t continue she made a face. “Well? What is it then?”
“Jayla, Tink’s gay.” He laughed again. “Damn thing gets more ass than the rest of us combined.”
Jayla laughed too. “I can see it, she’s beautiful,” she said, recalling the bright, jade green of her eyes. Her long, blonde hair so light it could appear white or gray, depending on the light. Except, of course, for the tips that she had dyed lime green. Her skin was almost as fair as Snow’s, like she’d been kept hidden away in some secret place, out of the sun.
“Although,” she teased, “I know who’s getting some ass tonight.” When he turned to her, she wiggled her brows, forcing another deep laugh from him.
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
He shook his head, slightly, before his face regained its seriousness. He turned to her, his eyes intent, as he told her, “You’re right, Princess, I can never get enough of you.”
As he turned into the parking garage, he commanded, “Take off whatever you have on underneath your outfit. Put on the blue lingerie you wore that night at Beast’s, put your clothing back over it, and meet me downstairs.”
She nodded, smiling to herself. She’d follow at least one of his orders tonight.
Leaning against the balcony rail, Alistair raised a glass to his mouth, taking a slow mouthful of whiskey. Jayla watched his throat work the amber colored liquid down, following the movements of his neck. His eyes narrowed at her over the glass, not removing his dark gaze from her as he placed it on the rail, licking an errant drop from his bottom lip.
How can he make such an innocent gesture look so damn sexy?
Her heart sped up. She wanted nothing more than to crawl to him, to tear down his zipper, drop to her knees, and take him into her mouth. She’d dreamed about tasting him for weeks now, and tonight, she was getting her way.
Her gaze trailed down to the bulge of his jeans. Pulling her bottom lip into her mouth, she bit down instinctively, not caring he caught the motion.
“Tell me, Princess. Did you decide to listen to me tonight, or do I have to punish you again?” His husky voice rolled over her, sending a shiver up her back.
Her gaze flitted to him, allowing the smile to grow into her own slanted smirk. She gave him an expression of feigned innocence. “What kind of sub would I be if I didn’t listen to my Dom?”
His lips curled into his patented panty-dropping smirk. “My kind of sub.”
“You’ll be pleasantly surprised,” she teased, coyly.
“I always am.” He lifted the glass to his lips one final time, downing the remaining liq
uid. This time, she heard the distinctive crunch of a piece of ice in his mouth; she could tell he played with the shards in his mouth, transfixed on the motion of his jaw as he did.
Fucking hot.
He swallowed, smiling. “Now, be a good girl, and take off your clothes.”
“Right here?” she asked, uncertain. They were outside, on his balcony, before midnight. Hardly late enough to expect the streets to be quiet and empty. Someone would see.
He nodded slowly.
She turned her head to the side, wanting to scope for neighbors when his voice broke through her motions.
“Eyes here, Princess.”
She turned again, noting how his features changed, sharpened. His hands moved to either side of him on the railing, opening his chest to her. His feet crossed at the ankles, his hips leaning against the rail. The epitome of confidence. Of “fuck-all who sees”.
Suddenly, the idea of someone watching — of them catching a peek of her undressing for her man, of moving forward toward him as he did what he pleased with her body — became, kind of pleasant. Titillating even.
She paused a beat, until he cocked a brow, waiting for her. Slowly, she shrugged, allowing her wool coat to fall from her shoulders, landing in a pile on the floor behind her feet. She toyed with the hem of her sweater dress, knowing she’d be baring herself to him in one, slow, motion.
She lifted, drawing out the suspense. Arms in the air, she shook her hair as the sweater lifted off her face.
He inhaled sharply, the breath through his teeth. His gaze darkened as he took in her form, his body tensing.
Rather than the blue lace negligee, she’d opted for a more — appropriate number. Black leather straps crossed over her body. Three straps caged her breasts, one across her nipples, the others on top and bottom. A long strap ran from the collar around her neck, down the center of her chest, covering the slit of her pussy. Other straps wrapped around her hips, around the top curves of her ass, all meeting together between her lips. It was, she hoped, a bondage wet-dream.
The icing on the cake? The long leather strap she’d hung around her shoulder. The one attached to the front of the collar. She took the end of it into her hand, twirling in front of her, showcasing the lead to him.
“That’s not what I told you to wear.” The guttural sound music to her ears, sending heat through her.
“I’m sorry, Sir. Are you displeased with me?” she asked, batting her lashes.
His eyes roved over her body, from her wrapped breasts, down to the apex of her thighs, to the studded, stiletto leather boots. His eyes trailed back up, stopping at her collar. Finally, he looked into her eyes.
“Never, Princess.”
“Good. I’d hate to find out what would happen if I displeased you, Sir.”
“You’re an awful liar,” he commented, clearing his throat.
In that moment, Jayla knew exactly what she wanted to do. What she needed to do.
“Maybe so. Perhaps we should spend some time finding out just what I’m good at then, shall we?”
Alistair nearly stopped breathing. The sight of her in front of him, her body wrapped in leather straps, the wicked glimmer in her eyes, his collar — his cock shot so hard it was painful.
She dropped to her knees, slowly, bending forward, placing her hands on the ground. She moved, crawling to him on all fours, staring at him so intensely, he felt it down to his bones. His legs nearly buckled, his body suddenly weak with desire.
She reached his feet, her hands trailing up his calves, his thighs, as her fingers found his belt, pulling the loop apart, moving the sides out of the way.
“Jayla,” he warned. Her in this position, on her knees in front of him — he couldn’t decide what he wanted more — to lift her off the ground and thrust into her, or feel her tongue against his shaft.
“Please, Sir. Let me taste you,” she purred, inching the zipper down.
Decision made.
“Your knees,” he stuttered, concerned. The hard wood of the interior stretched onto the balcony, and while it was softer than concrete, her knees would suffer regardless.
She turned, glancing over her shoulder for a brief second. Looking back, she smirked, leaning forward, placing a chaste kiss on his jeans over his engorged shaft, giggling. “Stay.”
Turning, she crawled back to her coat, allowing a full view of her uncovered ass. The perfect globes shifting with each step — he rubbed himself over his clothing, before reaching into his boxers, pulling himself out and stroking.
As she turned back, she caught his motions, her eyes widened. Her pink tongue darted out to her bottom lip, licking it briefly before pulling it into her mouth. Fuck.
He pushed his jeans further down, continuing to stroke while she watched. She moved to crawl back to him, yet he halted her.
“Stay,” he repeated her command. She froze, her back straight up, coat in hand. “Spread your legs.”
She did, opening them wide, sitting back on her heels. The leather strap caressing down her front pulled as her back bowed, rubbing against her pussy. Her eyes widened, no doubt not expecting the sensation.
Perfect.
He took a step forward, continuing to stroke himself slowly. Pre-cum dotted his slit, his body ready for release.
He fell to his knees a few feet in front of her, reaching forward and pulling the lead, forcing her upper body toward him. He moved, his face inches from hers. Her pupils widened, the brown near eclipsed by the black.
“You’re such a pretty little gift, all wrapped up for me. Was this something you had lying around?”
She shook her head. “I-I saw it and thought of you.”
“I should reward you, for thinking of me.”
He hissed as her warm hand grasped his cock, pushing his own fingers out of the way to stroke him.
“I’ll take this as a reward.” She bent forward, her lips parting, when he pulled the lead up, stopping her mid-air.
“You don’t choose the reward, Princess.”
She moved again, pulling against the lead in vain. It only served to choke her. Sitting straight, she huffed.
“Stand up.”
“But I wanted—”
“Stand. Up.” He cocked a brow, silently prompting her to obey him. Huffing, she placed one heel on the ground, then the other standing before him. She crossed her arms, tilting onto one hip.
“You know, this is bull—”
He silenced her by pulling up on the strap running between her legs. Her head tilted back, a soft moan escaping her lips.
This was an unexpected perk to the outfit. She hadn’t realized how sensual the leather rubbing against her clit, between her lips, would feel. Looking down, her heart skipped a beat.
Alistair knelt before her — her strikingly gorgeous man, on his knees, looking up at her as if she was his world.
He ran his hand down her leg, unzipping one boot at a time, lifting her foot to help her step out of the shoe. Bending between her legs, he threw them behind her, into the living room. He then moved to the ground, turning onto his back, leaving her standing over him.
“Now, Princess. Sit on my face,” he growled, pulling on her ankles to help her down.
She moved to her knees, hovering over his lips, just as he flicked his tongue up between her legs, around the leather. The mix of his hot, wet tongue against the cool, hard leather — pushing it further into her, she cried out in surprise. He placed his large hands on her hips, pulling her down on top of him harder.
His hand then moved up her back, into her hair, and gently pushed down, forcing her head to…
Yes!
She wasn’t sure she should be so excited to suck a man’s cock, but in this moment, it was all she craved to do. She parted her lips, flicked out her tongue and, for the first time, tasted him.
He moaned into her pussy as her mouth circled around him. He tasted salty, musky — his own, personal brand of testosterone. She was immediately hooked.
She moaned
around him, taking him deeper, widening her mouth to try and accommodate his girth.
Then there was the distraction of his tongue against her, licking around the strap, pulling it taut from behind, the pressure already building.
They moved together, sucking, licking, even gently nibbling each other. She closed her eyes tightly against the onslaught of sensations. He pulled the strap again, moving it forward and back, using it as a finger against her folds. He bit into the flesh at the base of her thighs. The pleasure and pain a lethal combination.
His hand wrapped around her ass, his thumb grazing over her hole. He rubbed against it, not quite pushing in, but applying just enough pressure to send her pleasure up a notch.
“You’re mine here, too,” he mouthed against her, rubbing in circles against her hole as his tongue worked around her pussy. He shifted, rubbing his scruff against her thighs as he spoke. “Do you know how much I’ve craved taking your ass? Took everything in me just now, watching you crawl away from me, not to bury myself inside you.”
She began to shake at the idea. She moved off his cock, licking the sides. She hadn’t even thought about him fucking her ass until the night at the club. Now that that card was on the table? A definite curiosity.
Enveloping him once again in her mouth, running her tongue along his shaft, he moaned into her as she hollowed her cheeks and sucked, hard.
She’d always loved the sounds men made in the pornos she watched. Alistair’s noises? Heaven.
He moaned again, followed by a soft grunt. “Fuck, Jayla.”
A heady, hedonistic rush flowed through her, knowing she could make him feel this good. His hips bucked, forcing himself further into her mouth. She gagged, pulling back, yet the hand in her hair held her in place.
“Relax your throat, Jayla. You can take me.”
She wanted to. Fuck, she wanted to. She took a deep breath, bending forward, opening as wide as she could.
“You’re gonna make me come,” he warned. It only served to make her want it that much more. She moved quicker, swirling her tongue around his head, alternating sucking against the tip with long, lazy strokes down his length.
Finders Keepers (Fairy Tales After Dark Book 2) Page 24
