by Measha Stone
He was proud? Then why the fuck was there a ball gag in her mouth and a string of drool getting ready to jump ship down her damn chin?
“I’m also sorry I didn’t let you take care of him in your way. I got protective, not just as your partner, but as your dominant. I let that seep into the situation, because I’m not just the guy who spanks you for fun, or decides where we’re having dinner. I see myself as your protector. I won’t let anything bad happen to you, not while in a scene, and not while we’re in our daily lives. So yeah, I jumped the gun. I’m a big enough guy to say I’m sorry for that.”
He took a slow drag of breath.
Her chest tightened while he talked. She’d expected some male chauvinistic bullshit to fly from his mouth. A long lecture on her being a sub and to just follow the dom’s orders would have made some sense to her. But apologizing and explaining it so clearly?
He was her protector.
Had she ever had one of those before?
More importantly, did she need one?
She’d agreed to this arrangement because she thought she knew him. She had him pegged for a casual guy with no real depth she would have to concern herself with.
Fuck had she been wrong. And now he was dragging her right to the bottom of the sea with him. Why wouldn’t he just fucking touch her already? Just a hand to her hair, or her shoulders. Something.
The puddle of drool she’d worried about finally broke the damn and spilled from the corner of her mouth, landing on her breast.
He leaned farther still, no touching.
“But.”
Of course, there was a but.
“When you have a problem with something I’ve done or said, you bring it to me in a respectful and submissive manner. You don’t ever yell at me on the street, and you sure as fuck don’t jab your finger into my chest.”
His breath hit her face, and she inhaled it. Finally, something from him touched her.
“Do I raise my voice to you? Or poke at you to get a reaction?”
She ran her tongue over the ball, hoping to block more spit from falling and making a fucking mess of her chest. But she failed.
“Answer me.” His voice went stone hard; his eyes darkened.
She forgot about the spit and shook her head. He hadn’t. Ever. He treated her with respect at all turns. Even if he didn’t agree with her on a case, he’d never mocked or raised his voice.
“You don’t like the drool, do you?” he asked, his tone serious and still no smile in sight. Couldn’t she have just waited until they got back to his apartment to talk to him about what she was upset about? Why did she have to push him, to sour the evening with discipline instead of sweeten it with play.
Again, she shook her head. Lifting her hand from her thigh, she tried to wipe the string now freely falling from her chin, but he wouldn’t allow it. Swatting her hand away, he shook his finger at her.
“Keep your hands down. Let it leak down onto your tits, making you all messy. Look at all the spit collecting on you.” He moved his gaze lower, but she didn’t follow it. How could she? To see the mess would make it too real, and the burn of her cheeks at his chastisement was all the reality she needed for the moment.
Moments ticked by with him staring at her, and all she could do was stare back. She’d move her gaze to his chin, or his shoulders, but always find his eyes again. She didn’t like the stern expression, the disciplinarian side of him. She wanted his playfulness back.
She wanted a fucking bib.
“When you’re disrespectful to me, it’s not just me you’re doing it to. It’s us as a unit. The only way this works is if we are in this together. Every time one of us derails, we both go off course. And in this relationship, I’m the one who puts us back to on track. I decide how and when we do that, but you will always have a voice. Do you get that?”
Tears built in her eyes. He might as well have smacked her; pain blossomed inside of her. She’d hurt him. Simple words, a harsh tone, and she’d hurt him—and her.
She’d hurt them.
“I think you do.” He ran the fat of his thumb over her cheek, catching a tear. Bringing it to his mouth, he sucked the moisture away.
She nodded. What else was there to do?
He checked his watch, a slim Fitbit on his left wrist, then back at her. The hard edges of his jaw softened. He ran the back of his fingers down her cheek, and she leaned into the touch. The warmth of it, the gentleness of it, the expanding power of such a simple act overwhelmed her senses. More tears fell until she found herself cradled in his arms.
The buckles of the straps were undone, and he gently pulled the ball from between her teeth, whispering soothing words and placing soft kisses on her forehead. She sniffled, fighting the urge to wipe her chin, which was now covered in her spit.
“When you’re being naughty I’ll always take control of the situation. Always. Even if it means ruining our night out with having to come back here and teach you a lesson.” He continued to speak while tossing the gag toward the dresser. “Stand,” he ordered and leaned back on the bed. She pressed her hands on his knees to give herself leverage and moved to her feet. Her knees expressed their displeasure at being held hostage for so long, and she shook out each leg until the pain subsided.
He didn’t let on if he minded the extra moment she took to get into position.
“Your knees okay?” he asked, leaning over to take a look at them.
“Fine. They’re fine,” she whispered, not wanting to break the moment of peace growing between them.
He touched her right knee then moved upward until he found them. She squeezed her eyes closed. Embarrassment flooded her where tranquility had formed.
“You were digging your nails into your thighs,” he stated and ran his finger over each half-moon shaped indention.
“It’s just a coping thing. I’m fine.” She waved her hand over the marks, hoping to distract him.
“You almost broke the skin, Sophie.” He stood to his full height and pulled her to his chest. “If you feel like you need that in the future, you need to tell me, okay? I don’t want to cause you distress to the point you need to do that.”
“It’s just normal for me, I was—well, I am sorry. I fucked up our evening.” It was partially true. She’d begun burying her nails into her flesh with each passing moment he denied her his touch.
“Do you think you’ll be yelling at me on the street again?” he asked, cupping her chin and pulling it upward, wiping her chin with his fingers. She’d forgotten all about the mess on herself when he began to soother her and touch her again.
“No. I was mad, but I should have waited to talk to you until I wasn’t so pissed and could handle it better.”
He pressed his lips against hers in a warm kiss that ended entirely too soon. But she wasn’t going to rock the boat just yet.
“Instead of going out, how about I make us some sandwiches and we watch a movie?” he suggested.
She peered over at the wooden paddle sitting so lonely on the dresser beside the used gag. Not that she really wanted further punishment, but, well, maybe she did.
“Not all punishments have to involve a spanking,” he said releasing her and walking over to the dresser to pick up the paddle. “The point is to teach you a lesson, and this time, we managed it well enough without the aid of my little friend.” He twirled the paddle and spoke in the worst Pacino impersonation she’d ever heard.
“But what if I want you to use your, uh, little friend.” She made the attempt and failed worse than him at the accent.
He laughed and slid the paddle into the back pocket of his jeans, so the handle was tucked away but the rest could be seen.
“Well, then, I suppose you’d better be a really good girl the rest of the night so I can blister that sweet ass of yours after the movie.” He picked up her shirt from the pile of clothes and tossed it to her. “Just that, for now.”
She snagged it midair and watched him walk out of the room, whistling,
the paddle swaying n his back pocket as he left her behind.
He hadn’t spanked her, but he’d managed to put her right where he wanted her, where she wanted to be. She snaked the shirt over her head and pulled her hair free. What little of her saliva that hadn’t already dried on her breasts stuck to the shirt, but she left it. A small reminder of what bad actions would cause.
“Hope you like salami,” he called from the kitchen.
She stopped in the hallway and grinned. “For the sandwich, or you talking in code?” She stepped into the living room and headed toward the kitchen.
“A little of column A and a whole lot of column B,” he said with a smile when she entered the kitchen.
Chapter 15
If she could look less fuckable while they ate their sandwiches, his cock might be able to take a rest. She’d messed her hair all up while having the gag in, and her makeup—what little she did wear—had smeared on her cheeks from the delectable tears she’d shed during her punishment. While she nibbled on the bread and licked the crumbs from her lips, he tried to convince himself it would not be gentlemanly to throw her to her knees, fist her hair, and plunge his cock into her mouth. Protest or not—better if she did.
Fuck. He adjusted his dick in his pants. Pressing too hard against the zipper was making sitting still impossible. He needed to do something to take the edge off.
“So, you and Travis have history?” she asked, popping the last bite of sandwich into her mouth.
That worked well enough.
He took a swig of beer and nodded. “We were at the academy together.”
“And?” she pressed when he didn’t offer any other information.
“And he’s a prick,” he offered with a wide grin.
“Oh. So, I’m supposed to be open and honest with you, but you don’t have to answer my questions?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “Just like today, you’re allowed to be rude, and I’m not.”
He pulled the small paddle from his back pocket and slid it onto the table, resting his hand on it. “Just a reminder of what a bad tone will get you.” He drummed his fingers. “I apologized for this afternoon. Yes, I let him get under my skin. But it’s not your job to discipline me, is it?” He quirked his own eyebrow. They’d covered this in the guest bedroom, but maybe she didn’t fully get it.
“That doesn’t sound fair.” Her lower lip protruded in a sweet pout.
“It shouldn’t. It’s not. It’s the balance of power we play with. Fair doesn’t play into it,” he said.
“Kind of like when we were at the club, and I had all those orgasms, and you didn’t even get one?” She tilted her head and grinned playfully at him.
He laughed. “Sort of. I got what I wanted out of that scene just as much as you. Coming would have been the icing on the cake, but I survived.”
“Well, can I strike a deal with you? Obviously, I don’t get to punish you, and I wouldn’t want to, either, but I can barter, right? Like, you give me the story about Travis, and I give you a nice long blow job before we watch the movie.”
Silly girl. She was going to do that anyway.
“I think what you’re suggesting is called topping from the bottom. Not really my kink.” He picked up his plate and took it to the sink.
“Okay, fine. Don’t get a blow job out of the deal.” She pushed her chair back and crossed her legs. “But I’m still interested in knowing what your problem is with Travis. Other than the obvious assholeness of his personality.”
Scott leaned against the sink, crossing his ankles. Talking about her ex didn’t score high on his list of arousal topics, but he’d seen how persistent she could be.
“He’s just an ass, Sophie. Doesn’t take shit seriously. He nearly got a cadet killed during firearm training. And considering the number of safety protocols they have in place so that sort of shit doesn’t happen, I’d say he’s really good at being an idiot.”
“Yeah, I think he told me that story.” She frowned. “We got into an argument about it. I didn’t find his lack of safety funny.”
He clenched his fingers around the countertop. Even after all the years on the force and all the training, the jerk still didn’t get that almost fatally wounding a fellow officer because you forgot to put the safety on while swinging your loaded weapon around in some stupid attempt at Top Gun humor wasn’t a laughing matter.
“Aside from that, he’s not really the type I’d see you with.”
She scrunched her lips and let out a sigh. “I admit it. I was swayed by the muscles and the tight abs.”
Her hands flew up in the air as though she were surrendering to an arrest, and he laughed.
“Is that why you said yes to dating me?” he laughed.
“Dating you?” Her smile dropped a fraction.
“Isn’t that what we’re doing here?” Oh, hell. Excellent way to make her bolt for the door, to bring up the what are we conversation. He couldn’t even get her into his bedroom. How could he think she’d be ready for this talk?
“We’re having fun.” She stood from the table and pressed against him. Fuck she smelled good. She’d spent all day at work with him and then been put through a discipline session. She shouldn’t smell so damn fuckable.
“I bet we’d have more fun if that shirt wasn’t on.” He pressed a kiss to her lips and pulled at the fabric covering her breasts. “I believe there’s a pretty submissive’s mouth that needs filling.” He traced her lower lip with his thumb.
“Do you have ice-cream?” she asked with a coy smile.
“Get down on your knees,” He fisted his hand in her hair, finally rewarding himself for the tortuous evening of waiting to get her soft curls in his hand and shoved her to her knees. She gave him a disgruntled look, but he chalked it up as showmanship. The strong woman inside her needed to at least pretend to protest, but when he maneuvered her body until he had her pinned against the cabinets, her pupils told him the truth. Arousal had taken her over.
“My shirt,” she said and pulled the hem toward her head. He released her, letting her draw it free of her body then took it from her. He rolled the shirt lengthwise and wrapped it around her head, covering her eyes and tying it in the back.
“Much better,” he mused out loud. He worked the buckle of his belt, while watching her pink tongue dart out and wet her lips. Her full, pouty lips that could only make him hotter wrapped around his cock.
“Open,” he ordered once he had his hand wrapped around his shaft. He needed to get inside her. Her mouth, pussy, wherever as long it was her.
Her lips opened wide, and she stuck out her tongue.
Sliding the round head of his cock over her tongue, he bit down on his own. Why did he torture himself? She knelt right there. He could plunge into her and take her mouth as his own. He could pump his cock down her throat and come all over her round, full breasts.
“Second thought.” He reached down and hauled her up by her armpits, not just bringing her to her feet but clearing her off the floor and plopping her on the cabinet. “I’m still a little hungry myself.” He covered her mouth with his hand when she started to speak and used his free hand to drag her leg to the side, uncovering the sweet beauty of her sex.
Still holding his hand firmly over her mouth, he dipped low and pushed his lips into her pussy. He could get high just from smelling her arousal. His nose pressed against her clit while he maneuvered his tongue lower until he found her entrance.
“Scott,” she muttered beneath his hand.
“You taste too good to be real,” he said into her flesh as he swiped his tongue from bottom to clit, taking the bundle of nerves between his teeth and applying pressure.
Her legs kicked out, and her ass bounced on the counter, but he didn’t let up. Releasing her mouth, he used both hands to keep her legs spread wide. Little whimpers escaped while he suckled and nipped, but she didn’t try to push him away. Not that she could anyway.
“Oh fuck.” Her chest heaved.
“Not yet.” He sm
iled and stood, taking her face between his hands and kissing her deeply. His tongue lashed against hers. And she met him full force, the sort of kiss that had their teeth clashing and their tongues dancing and left them both breathless when he pulled back. “I want to fuck you.”
“Yes. Do that. A lot of that.” She nodded with vigor.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Sometime soon, we should go over protocol and proper responses.”
Her brows furrowed.
“But right now, I just need to be in you.” He scooped her off the counter and hoisted her over his shoulder. On the way past the table, he snagged the wooden paddle, just in case his girl got mouthy again.
Bypassing the damn living room, he went back to the guest bedroom. She had less of a terror-filled gaze in there than when he’d brought her into his own room earlier.
She made a humph sound when she bounced on the bed, and quickly scrambled up, until she rested against the headboard.
“Flat on your back, legs wide,” he ordered, reaching out and grabbing her ankles. He dragged her down until she was in the position he wanted before he went about shedding all his clothes.
Kneeling between her legs, he skimmed his gaze down her body. Beautiful. Curvy and imperfect.
She couldn’t see him, not with the shirt still tied around her eyes, and he left it that way. She didn’t get to see him fawn all over her. Staring at her and taking her all in couldn’t be ruined by her noticing. No, this moment was for him. Private.
“Scott.” She lifted her arm, searching him out. “You’re still here, right?”
“I wouldn’t leave you, baby,” he said, grabbing her outstretched hand and lacing his fingers with hers. Moving closer to her, he ran the head of his cock through her heated folds. So fucking wet. And hot.
“You’re wet as hell for me,” he said, pushing into her sweet softness. Her mouth parted into a perfect ring when he thrust himself to the hilt. “And so fucking tight,” he ground out, pressing her hand to the mattress. “Don’t. Oh fuck, Sophie.”
