by Lynda Aicher
She leaned against the wall, her dirty biking clothes held in a bundle along with her tennis shoes. The sight of her bare feet was oddly erotic to him, and his semi didn’t need any more encouragement before his bruised balls would remind him why getting hard wasn’t the best idea.
She turned around, flashed him a wicked grin, then dangled her lacy red underwear over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”
The door hung open, and he had to pick his chin off the floor as she sashayed down the walk to his car. Holy fuck.
“I’m waiting,” she singsonged through the humid evening air, the damn underwear taunting him as they swayed in time with her hips.
He cleared his throat, adjusted his stiffy, wincing only a little when he nicked his nuts. Grabbing his wallet and keys from the bowl on the hall table, he followed her at a pace that kept her waiting just a tad. It’d serve her right if a neighbor saw her standing next to his SUV looking like she’d just stepped out of bed. Yet the thought of anyone but him seeing her like that had his feet moving faster.
The ride over to her house was both long and done in a blink.
“Keep your eyes on the road, Holden.”
Her soft order was followed by shifting on the leather seat. Of course he had to look, a quick glance at least, to see what she was doing. The sight of his shirt hiked up around her waist, her legs spread wide and her fingers stroking her exposed pussy—the red nails dipping in and out of her folds—almost caused him to swerve into the curb.
Shit. He jerked his focus back to the road and sucked in a breath, only to get a tempting whiff of her arousal. Oh, no way. His knuckles were white where he gripped the steering wheel, the leather moist under his hands.
Another peek showed her fingers buried deep within her. Fuck. He cleared his throat. “You look a little warm. Should I turn up the air?” The rasp in his voice detracted from the calm front he tried to project.
Her throaty moan was like a stroke over his already hard dick. Damn it. He adjusted himself so the zipper wasn’t cutting a jagged line through his boner, not that it did much to ease the soreness that once again throbbed in his balls.
“Hands on the wheel, Holden.” The command was sharp and throaty, sexy.
Right. He clenched his hands at the perfect ten and two positions. Focusing on driving was almost impossible. It was only the thought of her being hurt in an accident or having to explain to a cop why he couldn’t keep his eyes on the road that forced him to concentrate.
“Hmmm.” Her rumbling purr was accompanied with the slick sounds of her pleasuring herself.
Nope. No. Not looking. This had to be one of the hardest commands she’d ever given him. He was boiling. His shirt clung to his back and chest wherever it touched. Cold air blew from the vents, but short of stepping into a freezer, he doubted anything would cool him down.
Cars passed him on the highway, and he stayed in the right lane both out of safety and to prevent any truckers from catching a free show of his Mistress.
Her fingers passed under his nose. There was no way he couldn’t inhale. The reaction was automatic and he sucked in the scent of her heady musky arousal. His mouth opened as he held his breath, another reflex that allowed him to savor the fragrance and to keep from inhaling another round of the aphrodisiac.
The trapped air gushed from his lungs when her fingers traced over his lips. He was helpless to grab another round of her scent.
“Taste me,” she said, the order breathy and erotic as hell.
His groan was one of defeat and desire. He flicked his tongue, an edge of her bittersweet flavor dancing on the tip before he drew her fingers into his mouth. He sucked on the digits, his tongue rolling over and around each one with a fervent passion to get every last drop of her.
Her low chuckle rumbled over him. “You like?”
She eased her fingers out, and he let out a sound of protest before he answered, “Yes, Vanessa.”
With her it was easy to drop into his submissive mode. It didn’t matter that their original agreement set the boundaries as being within her playroom. Little teases like this were definitely a green for him.
Somehow he made it safely to the quiet streets of her neighborhood. The exact details of the drive, including the number of red lights he stopped for, were a blur in his memory. Thank God for autopilot skills that had kicked in somewhere along the way.
Her soft sighs grew louder as he navigated through the subdivision. From the corner of his eye he caught her fingers moving faster, the pace increasing over her clit. Fuck. He shifted on his seat, his fingers stiff from the hold he kept on the steering wheel.
“Here.” She grabbed his hand and held it to her wet pussy. Goddamn. He didn’t need direction for this. He knew exactly what to do in the hot folds. The hard nub of her clit rolled under his finger before he plunged two digits into her wet channel.
Shit. Shit. Shit.
The car rolled into her driveway and he slammed on the breaks before he crashed into her garage door. He pulled away to jam the car into Park, kill the engine and click their seat belts off and then he was on her. Fingers back in her heat, his lips taking hers.
She groaned into him, hips bucking into his hand. It took two fistfuls of his hair being yanked before he ripped his mouth from hers, gasping.
“I didn’t say you could move,” she said. The starchiness of her reprimand was lost in the sigh and roll of her hips as her lids dropped to half-mast over her dark eyes.
He upped the movement on her clit and dipped his head to suck on her nipple through the shirt. The material was quickly dampened and he wished like hell he could reach her skin. The cotton didn’t taste or feel right but he endured.
His knee cracked against the dash, a kink formed in his side and his dick was wedged so fucking tight against his shorts there was a serious chance of the circulation being cut off. None of that mattered though. He had to get her off. Watch her come.
Her cries were soft and rose higher with the rapid rise and fall of her chest. He dipped his hand lower, thrusting his fingers into her multiple times before coming back to the bundle of nerves that were so hard and flooded with blood. He clamped his teeth down on her nipple, needling it as he sucked. She tensed, every muscle pulled tight before she tumbled over, her cry a sweet rapture in his ears.
He eased up when he sensed her coming down, her limbs going limp, the hard clench she had in his hair loosening. He straightened enough to nuzzle her ear. The richer scent of his shampoo was odd on her, but he liked it. It marked her as being a part of him somehow.
Their heavy pants filled the car and the heat was suddenly suffocating. A drop of sweat slid down his forehead and caught by his brow before another one took its place.
“Wow,” he murmured. His erection was still harder than nails, damp with sticky precome pressed between his skin and shorts.
Her chuckle shook them both. He sat up, taking care to pull her shirt down to cover her as he did. It was a somewhat silly move, considering they were now sitting safely in the quiet of her driveway, but it seemed right. Respectful.
He wiped his fingers on his shorts, barely resisting the urge to sniff them or, better, lick them clean. His hand was shaking when he reached to lower the windows. They went down with a low buzz, letting him know that ten minutes hadn’t passed since he’d cut the engine. It felt like hours had gone by. The outside air was only slightly cooler, but it rushed in to grab at the dampness that drenched him.
“Your hair got messed.”
A glance in the rearview mirror confirmed what she said. Dark locks stuck up at odd angles on both sides right about where his scalp still stung. He puffed out a laugh and ran his fingers through it. “I can’t imagine how that happened.”
The seat creaked as he shifted again. He tugged on the hem of his shorts, trying to pull the material down to get more s
pace where he needed it.
“Problem?” The rise of her brows and smirk on her lips let him know she knew exactly what was wrong.
“Yup. What to help me out?” He shot her smirk back at her and reached for the snap at his waist.
Her laugh was not one of joy, but evil intent. She shook her head and grabbed her bundle of dirty clothes off the floor. “I don’t think so.”
He dropped his head back, his groan released through clenched teach. Her smile was definitely wicked as she sat up and reached for the door handle.
“I’ll be on the road with the Flash all week.” She reached back to run a finger over the prominent ridge of his erection. His twitch was pure reflex that he had no hope of controlling. “This orgasm right here is mine.” The husky tone of her voice was all Domme now. “Keep it for me until I return.”
His head jerked toward her, eyes wide. No fucking way. His breath was stuck in his chest as he waited for her clarification.
She was nodding, that knowing smile on her lips like she could read everything he was thinking. The doubt, frustration, anger and, most of all, the raging desire. “No coming till I say so.”
She has got to be kidding. That would be impossible. Unless...
He swallowed and finally took in a breath. “Can I have the cage then, Mistress?” A part of him couldn’t believe he asked to have the device put back on, but how else could he control himself for that long when every thought of her had him hard?
He had his answer before she spoke. The slow shake of her head had his heart sinking clear to his oversensitive balls. He squeezed his eyes closed. Hairy balls. Hairy balls and ass cracks. The visual didn’t help when her scent enveloped him.
“You can do it,” she said, triggering his eyes to open. “All on your own.”
She got out the car, her shirt sliding up to give him a glimpse of the round underside of her ass before it fell down to her thighs. The slam of the car door was somehow soft in his foggy brain. He tracked the sway of her hair and grace of her stride as she rounded the front of the car and came to his open window.
Her lips were gentle, light touches that teased his mouth open, only to have her pull away.
“You’re beautiful like this,” she whispered, stoking the line of his jaw. “All aroused and frustrated for me.”
His thoughts and emotions were too jumbled for him to form a response. She was working her magic on him, and he was powerless to shake it off. Not that he wanted to. This was another more that he hadn’t expected, but fuck if he didn’t love it.
She kissed him again and turned to leave.
“Wait,” he finally got out, snapping out of his daze. He shot his hand out the window to grab her arm. “I thought we were playroom only?”
Her thoughtful frown had him kicking himself for bringing it up, especially when he didn’t care. But he wanted to know where her thoughts were, and she’d said communication was key to their play being successful. That applied to relationships too, and he sure as hell hoped that was what they were building.
“I’m okay with this,” he rushed to clarify, his thumb stroking over the skin of her arm. “Really okay. But I need to know where you stand.” The playroom-only rule had been a gray line since the first night with the chastity device if they were getting nitty gritty about it.
She studied him a bit longer. The dim hue of twilight had settled in, but there was plenty of light to see the emotions that flickered over her face—something he doubted she realized. His heart skipped as he realized what she was showing him. Trust.
Distantly, he logged the high chatter of frogs croaking that indicated a pond was nearby. Up close, he caught her inhale, the soft sigh, the gentle drop of her shoulders as the tension left her body.
A smile flickered on her lips before it flattened. “We should’ve talked about it before I overstepped,” she said, her voice just loud enough for him to hear. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not.” He wished like hell there wasn’t a damn car door between them. But he also feared she’d retreat if he got out. “Not at all. It happened naturally and that’s pretty cool. It’s working for us, or at least I think it is.” He hoped it was for her too.
Her soft smile eased his growing anxiety. “It is, isn’t it?”
He nodded, staying silent as she processed the change, but he kept up the gentle stroke on her arm that she was now leaning into.
She flicked her chin, smirking. “So that orgasm is mine. If you’re good all week, I’ll take care of it on Saturday.”
“Fuck.” He didn’t know if his low curse was in relief or frustration, but it didn’t matter. Both were fine with him. “Yes, Vanessa.”
She dove in and stole one more searing kiss that left his lips and mind numb when she pulled away. “Good night, Holden. I had a good time today. Thank you.”
She was halfway up the walk, bare feet silent on the cement before he found his voice. “Me, too.” There was only a glimmer of a smile tossed over her shoulder to indicate she’d heard him. Where in the hell was his voice?
He waited until she was safely inside before he started the car and drove away. He was almost home, his thoughts lost on the changes his life had taken that weekend, before he remembered that her bike was still in the back of his car. Evidently, both of their minds had been on more important things.
A smile was still plastered on his face two hours later when he crawled in bed with a woody that throbbed along with his still-tender balls. A bag of frozen peas would help both problems, but that would take away the reminder and dilute the point.
This was one challenge he was all for and he would succeed without cheating. He was positive her reward would be worth it.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Twelve days later, Holden wasn’t as upbeat about his situation. He hadn’t given in to the almost overwhelming urge to jerk off, but he’d been damn close more than once. Especially during this second run of self-imposed chastity.
Every shower, every time he crawled into bed, every morning when he woke with an erection from hell, he had to physically restrain his hands behind his head to keep from beating off. The thought of hairy butts and ass cracks had no impact on the need that fueled his erections.
He’d championed through that first week with a cocky grin and arrogant attitude. His reward had been a night of personal denial and service to his Mistress. He’d given her three orgasms before she’d bound and flogged him until his entire back from shoulders to knees had been one big flame. The headspace had been fucking phenomenal. He’d floated for hours with her wrapped around him.
What he hadn’t expected was her leaving the next morning on another business trip and the instructions to keep his orgasm. Again.
He shook his head, sweat flying from the ends of his soaked hair as he took off down the ice. His lungs burned, along with his thighs, calves and glutes. The ice flew up, blades shaving over the surface, digging in until he stopped. He was back down the ice in the next instant, the goal line his target.
Blue line, back, red line, back, blue line, back then down to the other goal line and back, only to do it again. The pattern occasionally broken by the red line, blue line, red line hiccup he threw in for fun. Ten rounds of self-imposed suicide drills, and his mind was finally off his dick. At least for the moment.
He hunched over, hands digging into his thighs as he sucked in chilled drafts of air. His shirt clung to his back in wet patches and his legs shook, but it felt good. He pushed off and started doing crossovers backward down the ice, wall to wall, down and back, each stroke his only focus. Dig in, grip the ice, cut it clean, go faster, keep it smooth, stick on the ice.
“Hey, Hauke. Who’re you trying to outrun?”
The shout echoed through the empty rink, the cold air carrying it into the rafters before it bounced back down. He skidded to a
stop, swinging around to see Walters gliding toward him, stick in hand.
Holden sucked in a breath and pushed off to meet the man at mid-ice. He circled around Walters, jabbing in to steel the unguarded puck from him. Walters gave chase as Holden raced to the open net, his wrist shot nailing the puck in the net before the other man could block it.
He skidded to a stop next to the boards to suck down a good portion of his water bottle. Fuck.
“Damn, man.” Walters glided up to him, a grin on his face. “Where’d your energy come from?”
Holden blew out a breath and avoided the inquiry by scrubbing a towel over his face and hair. Walters had his jack-o’-lantern mug aimed right at him when he finally draped the towel around his neck. Missing teeth were worn like a badge of honor, and no one played or practiced with their false teeth in.
Holden ran his tongue over the crown covering his top front tooth. He’d been mostly lucky but not exempt from that injury. Few were at their level.
He leaned into the boards, stretching his legs before he tossed the towel down and started a slow lap around the edge of the rink. Walters was at his side a second later, matching his pace.
The man gave him a shove. “What’s eating you? You’ve been a cranky fucker for days.”
Holden’s snort was fast and decisive. “I’m fine.” He was. Ornery—definitely. But his game had never been better. “Thanks for coming by the youth center the other day,” he said to change the subject.
“You’ve already thanked me.”
“So are you in for the charity event then?” Holden had focused a lot of his frustration at getting details in place for the event. Once he’d gotten an exuberant yes from Liv, she’d dove into the planning with the same gusto she seemed to put into everything.
“From the sounds of it, most of the team is.” Walters chuckled. “I thought it was a crazy idea coming from you, but you’ve managed to get more people on board than I expected.”
Vanessa had pushed the idea with the Glaciers’s PR team and had somehow gotten Segar’s support as well.
