Nine Kinds of Naughty

by Jeanette Grey

  “Don’t.”

  She hesitated, lifting a brow in question.

  “Leave them on.” The gruff rumble to his tone lit another match inside her, until all she could do was stand there, dumb, at the command. Lifting her arms over her head, he raked his gaze along her body, and she felt it in every inch of her flesh. Goose bumps rose along her arms and thighs. She wasn’t usually particularly self-conscious, but the longer he looked, the more she squirmed, until finally, finally, he met her gaze.

  “Magnificent.”

  A spark in her chest lit off, a glowing pride that made no sense, but what could she do?

  He opened his mouth again, showing no sign of letting go of her arms. “Do you trust me?”

  “Apparently.”

  Shaking his head, he tightened his grip. “When I ask you a question, you answer it.” Oh Jesus. This shouldn’t be this hot. Repeating himself, he asked, “Do. You. Trust. Me.”

  “Yes.”

  “Then give it up. All of it. Let go.” He jerked his head to indicate the space behind them. “Like you did over there.”

  “But that was different.”

  “No. It wasn’t.”

  Eyes gone dark with lust bore into hers, and an uncertain tremor shook her limbs.

  “Over there,” he said, “you trusted me. You let me put my hands on you with no idea what I would do. You let me take care of you.”

  And it had paid off in spades. He’d worked every knot in the twisted mess of her neck and shoulders, had wrung her out until she’d been a puddle at his feet.

  “Do it again.” His thumb stroked the point of her wrist. “Let me take care of you. Trust me. And I promise, I will make it so, so good for you.”

  How could anyone resist?

  With a humming in her brain and beneath her skin, she nodded faintly.

  “Good girl.” A flicker of a smile curled his lips.

  The next thing she knew, she was on her back on the couch. She let out a huff of breath, winded and disoriented and unsure of how she’d gotten there. Releasing her wrists, he shoved her hands over her head and growled, “Leave them there. Or else.”

  Oh God. She held on tight to the edge of the sofa, helpless to the hint of a threat and the predatory gleam to his eyes. The smooth leather of the seat was cool against her skin, but his body was so warm. She arched, spreading her legs by a fraction. He dropped to his knees before her and ran rough palms up the length of her thighs.

  “Now let’s see how wet you really are.”

  A moan escaped her when he shoved her legs even farther apart. She was still in her bra and panties and her fucking heels, but the nakedness of her position was another level to the rising heat. Fully dressed, he hovered over her.

  Then he ran a finger along the edge of her underwear. It was so close to where she wanted him, right at the top of her thigh, and he slipped just underneath the lace, grazing her outer lips—making her pussy clench, aching and empty.

  His finger came away wet, and he groaned. “Fuck, Lex. You’re soaked.”

  Her whole body flexed. He never called her by her first name. It was always Ms. Bellamy this and ma’am that, and it was like he’d stripped another layer of her bare.

  “Dane . . .”

  “Uh-uh.” He cut off midrebuke to run his finger across his lips. When he breathed in deep, she felt it in her clit and in the points of her breasts. Then he had to go and suck the tip between his teeth, and for a second her vision grayed out. He pulled it away with a wet pop, chasing her taste with a flick of his tongue. “I think it’s your turn to call me Sir, don’t you?”

  It chafed. It rubbed up wrong against everything she’d ever worked for and every aspect of the person she was trying to be. If anyone else had asked, she would have slapped them and walked away. But here, like this, with him . . .

  It felt so fucking good she could scream.

  Glowing inside, she rolled the word around on her tongue. “Yes. Sir.”

  His nostrils flared, and the darkness to his eyes deepened. “Better.”

  Curling a hand around her neck, he hauled her forward at the same time that he leaned in. Their mouths met again, even more roughly than they had the first time. She tasted blood and she didn’t care. Unable to resist, she threaded her fingers through his hair—

  Only for him to yank himself away. She stared at him, dumbstruck and lost.

  “I asked you to do one thing for me.” He clucked his tongue.

  What? He’d tossed her down and put her hands—oh shit, her hands.

  “That’s right,” he said. “You need me to tie them up so you remember?”

  Something inside her turned to ice. She’d tried this sort of thing once or twice before, halfhearted efforts at best, but there had always been this squirming edge, this catch in her breath whenever the idea of being tied up arose. She couldn’t explain it and certainly didn’t feel like trying now. It was weird, maybe embarrassing.

  Fortunately, she didn’t seem to have to. Noticing her hesitation, he leaned back. He gazed at her, considering for a moment, and the uneasy pressure behind her ribs moved higher, toward her throat.

  Before it could choke her, he flexed his jaw, but when he spoke again, it wasn’t quite the same rebuke. “You only get one warning.”

  With her heart ready to pound clear through her ribs, she let him push her against the seat. He replaced her hands above her head, but the moment was broken. He’d told her that she needed this, needed to let go, but she was tenser than ever now. Sure, the whole Sir thing had been hot for a second, but her hang-ups clearly hadn’t all evaporated just because she got wet when he bossed her around. She couldn’t do this, shouldn’t—

  He frowned, still hovering over her. “What did I tell you about thinking?”

  “I can’t help it.” She squirmed.

  Shaking his head, he ran his knuckles down her throat. “Then stop trying so hard.”

  Her eyes went suddenly, mortifyingly damp.

  Trying too hard was what she did. It was her signature move, and now, what? He wanted her to just stop? How was she even supposed to know how?

  “Shh. Hey.” Grasping her by the chin again, he held her steady, directed her gaze to meet his. Somehow, the solidity of him brought her back. The softness of his eyes and the concern written all over his brow.

  Maybe he wouldn’t make her do this after all.

  For a long minute, he regarded her in silence, the wheels almost visibly turning in his mind. Then the creases between his eyes evened out. “I want to try something.”

  “Okay?”

  A smile flirted with the corners of his mouth. “Close your eyes.”

  Doubt twisted at the base of her spine. “I don’t know . . .”

  “Trust me,” he insisted again.

  And all at once, that was exactly what she wanted to do.

  Scarcely breathing, she let her eyes drift closed. The darkness was a whole other dimension. Hot and vulnerable, she lay there open to his inspection, his body hard and warm between her thighs. His hand left her face, and then there was the faint rustling of fabric.

  She swallowed hard as he leaned in again. He pressed a gentle kiss to each of her eyelids. She’d sort of known this was coming, but her pulse still raced when he draped something silky and soft across her face. The thin strip of cloth—his tie, it had to be—blocked the light, making the blackness more complete. He pulled it taut and knotted it behind her head.

  She waited for the fluttering pulse of anxiety to rear its ugly head again, but her breath stayed even. It wasn’t like his threat to tie her hands together. It wasn’t that at all.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  Had his voice been this rich before? With one less sense, all the others kicked into high gear. The warm, woodsy scent of him and the way the leather against her skin had gone body-warm.

  Something in her muscles relaxed. Nodding, she leaned farther back.

  “Good.” His breath fluttered against her cheek. “Con
centrate on how you feel. Nothing else matters.”

  He’d said that earlier, too, rejecting her concerns about her reputation. About anything that could go wrong outside this space.

  It was easier to believe him now. Everything was.

  “You’re gonna be so damn beautiful when I get you there.” He sounded wistful almost, and she shivered when he kissed her cheek and the point of her jaw. “You gonna let me try?”

  “Yes.”

  “Perfect.”

  His hands were on her body then, sweeping down the center of her chest. His mouth followed—not as rough as it had been before, but the intensity hadn’t diminished at all. Hot lips sucked at her pulse and teeth scraped at her collarbone. She let out a whine when he cupped her breast through her bra.

  “Been staring at these.” He flicked his thumb across her nipple, and she bit her lip to keep her noise of pleasure in. “For months now. So perfect.”

  Hardly, a part of her wanted to argue, but that wasn’t what this was about.

  “Did you catch me, baby? Did you like it that I couldn’t keep my eyes off your gorgeous tits?”

  “Yeah.” Because she had. She’d hated it and she had loved it in equal measure.

  “Did you want me to touch them? Suck on them?”

  “Yes.” All over again, her hands itched to drop, her fingers to rake themselves through his hair and hold him there. She grasped her own wrist instead, letting her mouth fall open when he tugged the cup of her bra down. “Oh—”

  “Fuck, they’re even better than I thought they’d be.” He pulled her nipple between his teeth, wet biting pressure and then the softness of his tongue.

  Shit. She was a live wire, every nerve firing sparks. Desperate, she bucked her hips, but all he did was chuckle, a claiming hand landing hard on her thigh.

  “Greedy,” he chided. He skated his palm higher. “You want something?”

  She nodded, arching her spine, willing him to put his mouth on her breast again, to put his fingers between her legs, to make her come.

  But apparently, that wasn’t enough. “Tell me.”

  “I want you—shit—” Her eyes rolled back in her head when he sucked a bruise into the flesh at the top of her other breast. “Touch me. Please.”

  “But I am touching you.”

  Was he trying to kill her? “No, here.”

  He’d said not to move her hands, but her legs were a different matter. Hooking a calf around his hips, she hauled him in, the heel of her shoe digging into his ass.

  And oh God. The hard ridge of him hit her thigh. He was big, nice and thick, and forget his fingers. She wanted his cock, wanted to get fucked, wanted it with a desperation she wasn’t sure she’d ever felt before.

  But the bastard drew back. “Uh-uh-uh. That’s not a nice way to ask, now is it?”

  “What do you want?” She’d do anything.

  “For you to tell me where you want me.”

  She snapped her eyes open, but all she could see was red.

  “My pussy. My cunt. Whatever the fuck you want to call it, just—”

  It was what he had been waiting for, apparently. She’d scarcely gotten the words out before his hand was there. Rough fingers shoved the panel of her underwear aside.

  “Oh fuck, you’re bare,” he groaned.

  That shouldn’t have made her glow, but she was on fire, burning, incandescent.

  Panting, she shifted into his touch. “Glad you like.”

  “I love it.”

  Nice and slick, he ran his fingers up and down the length of her opening before plunging two inside. She jerked into the touch. Her hands nearly dropped, but she caught herself, groaning and gripping her own wrist tighter.

  “So wet, baby. I thought your tits were perfect, but this pussy, Jesus, it’s gold. Can’t wait to get inside it. Do you want that? Gonna let me fuck this gorgeous cunt?”

  “Yes, yes.” More words wanted to spill out of her. She wanted to watch him do it. Maybe, someday, if they did this again, she would.

  The uncertainty fired off a pang behind her ribs.

  Because she didn’t know. She’d been the one to say she couldn’t promise him anything. They might just be scratching an itch here; once they left this plane they might be done.

  Or they might not be. A hunger had awoken in her. She liked this too much. Lying back, doing as he told her to. Letting herself stop fucking thinking.

  A laugh threatened to break free. What was she doing? Falling out of the moment thinking about how nice it was not to be thinking?

  Maybe Dane was right. Maybe she had needed this.

  Maybe she needed a lot more.

  Before she could dwell too much, a twisting pinch at her nipple returned her to the present.

  “Am I boring you?”

  “No.” She shook her head wildly. What had he told her to do when she thought too much? Focus on the present. On what she was feeling. “Just.” Her voice came out all raspy and low. “Feels good.”

  So good.

  And even better when his thumb found her clit.

  “Tell me how it feels. What you like.” He stroked in teasing circles against that bright, hot point of pleasure, curling his fingers deep inside. “I want to know every little thing that takes you apart.”

  “Harder,” she begged. A part of her wanted to bat his hand aside and show him how it was done, but she gritted her teeth and tilted her hips until he hit that perfect spot inside her, and she groaned. But she wanted fuller, deeper, more. “My clit, please—”

  And then his lips were gone from her breast. Cold air on wet flesh made her shiver, but before she could complain about the loss, the heat of his mouth descended. His tongue replaced his thumb against her pussy, and oh yes.

  “Oh God,” she groaned, “yes, like that.”

  His whole mouth fit to her, and he added another finger, stretching her wider even as his tongue drummed faster against her clit.

  Just like that, she was there. “I’m going to—shit—Dane—”

  “Sir,” he all but growled.

  “Sir. Please—please—”

  She was so close, everything tensed toward it. In frustration, she dropped a hand and squeezed her nipple hard, and yeah, that was what she’d needed, that was—

  The sudden absence and the emptiness were cutting glass, were ice. The cresting feeling collapsed from underneath her, and she couldn’t breathe. “No, what—”

  But there weren’t any answers. Without the power of her sight she was even more lost, her head spinning as he grabbed her by her hips. The orgasm he’d pulled out from under her collapsed into an echoing hollow pang, arousal so intense it was nearly pain, but there was nothing she could do. He dragged her forward, twisting and pulling at her limbs until she was on her knees facing the seat. Her breasts dragged against the cold leather, her arm scrabbling at the surface.

  “I told you you only got one warning.” The smooth silk of his voice had gone hard, and she could cry.

  “I—” Oh fuck, she hadn’t meant to move her hands. She’d been half out of her mind with pleasure, scarcely a second from falling apart on his tongue. “I’m sorry.”

  “Too late, princess. Naughty girls need to deal with the consequences of their actions.”

  God, no. She shook her head, but he grabbed her hair, shoving her face into the couch.

  “I won’t tie you up,” he promised, and thank God for that. The shaking in her limbs eased by a fraction. “But I am going to punish you. If you can’t handle it—tell me to stop. Right now. This is your chance.”

  No. Not that.

  Eyes leaking, her whole body trembling, she shook her head again. Humiliated tears wet the fabric of his tie. What did she look like here? Ass up, bra and panties and heels and his tie bound over her eyes, trembling and crying because she’d fucked up, she always fucked up, she was never good enough.

  “Three strokes,” he said. The calm to his voice seeped into her, helping shore her up, but she still let out
a pathetic, choked-off whisper of a sob. “Just three. You can take it, can’t you?”

  Sniffling, she nodded.

  “There’s my good girl.”

  And somehow, that tiny endearment was what made it something she could bear.

  The first slap to her ass didn’t hurt so much as sting. She shuddered through it anyway, anger and disappointment both floating feelings she couldn’t catch. But it was all out of her hands. The second was harsher. He made her wait a handful of breaths for the third, and she strained, impatient and unresolved until finally, finally, his open palm descended.

  The crack was too loud, the impact vibrating through her, and she hovered there on the edge of it for one lost, falling moment.

  But then he was there. His body blanketed her, arms surrounding her. He kissed her cheek and her hair and behind her ear, and it was like a parachute billowing open.

  “Beautiful. You took that so well, gorgeous, I’m so proud of you.”

  Her whole body burst into light. She sagged, wrung out and yet still so on edge, and she felt amazing. She felt fantastic.

  They lingered there together for a moment before she registered the hard shape of him where his cock pressed against her ass. “Oh,” she mumbled, leaning into it. The heat from before returned in a gust, flowing from her abdomen to her pussy and her breasts and out, until the tingling awareness of every inch of her skin had her wet and aching for it all over again.

  “That’s it.” He sucked the shell of her ear between his lips, breath washing hot over damp skin, chased by the rasp of his teeth. “Here’s what’s going to happen next.”

  A haze still clung to her, but the electricity zipping up and down her spine had her alert in spite of it.

  “You’re going to stay right here. Just like this. Bent over this couch with that perfect ass in the air. You’re going to take this naughty, impatient hand”—he grasped her by her wrist and dragged her arm down—“and you’re going to keep yourself warm for me.”