Nine Kinds of Naughty

by Jeanette Grey

It was sort of like a ski lift, really. Or a Ferris wheel. Glass-enclosed bubbles floated along, each hanging from a thick metal cable. As the next one approached, it slowed, its doors sliding open.

  And it wasn’t as if she had a fear of heights or got motion sick or anything, but a sudden paralysis stole over her. She froze.

  Only for the warm pulse of his hand around hers to bring her back from the brink. “Come on.”

  That was all she needed. Grasping hold of the railing, she lunged, and his body was right behind hers. As one, they dropped into the backward-facing bench.

  And began their long ascent into the sky.

  Someday, years from now, Dane was going to look at this as one of the high points of his life.

  The ground fell away beneath them, and it was the exact opposite of good jump or a zip line, but in that moment he didn’t care. In a slow, steady climb, they rose, leaving the crowds and asphalt behind. Already, the air was fresher, his lungs fuller.

  And here. Tucked against his side . . .

  He still couldn’t quite get over it. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he’d asked Lexie for this day, but she’d blown anything he could have imagined out of the water. Her obedience quieted this small, resentful place inside his heart, while her tits and her legs and the fucking sound she made every time he turned on the toy he’d placed against her clit had his blood singing. She was a dream, was what she was. The perfect woman and the perfect sub. She’d stand up to him if he needed her to and kneel down for him when he asked her to. She made him want things. Crazy things. When he’d scarcely even bothered to want anything for himself in so long.

  Her gaze flickered from the city receding beneath them to meet his own. Somehow, she’d found this place inside her subspace to be aware and yet calm. Herself, but with this hint of a haze, this minute delay before each of her actions. Eyelashes fluttering, she gave him a long, slow blink.

  “What?” she asked.

  Yeah, so he’d been staring. It was his right to look at what was his. “Just enjoying the view.”

  It took a second, but one corner of her lips floated higher. She nodded slightly toward the side. “Think you’re missing the view you paid for.”

  “I don’t know.” He tucked a finger underneath that collar. Someday, he’d get her a better one. One that was worthy of her. “I paid for this, didn’t I?”

  Her gaze dropped to her lap, and she shivered. “You did.”

  “Eyes up,” he instructed. At his bidding, she looked forward at the city again. “You look anywhere but out that glass, and I hit that little button in my pocket.” A harder shudder racked her at that. Good. “Every time the car slows, every time you glance away. And what do you do?”

  “I don’t come.” Fuck, that must be torture at this point. Her voice was agonized, and that shouldn’t turn him on so much.

  “That’s right, beautiful.”

  Unable to resist, he leaned in and sucked a long line of kisses along the exposed skin of her neck. She tasted soft and floral, the flesh milky white and soft, and he could drown in it. She pulled in a trembling breath, breasts heaving. He grazed his hand along her curves until he cupped her tit in his palm. She reached out wildly, and on a hunch, he drew away.

  Her eyes were closed.

  He was such a little shit.

  Even at max power, the buzzing was quiet, all but drowned out by the wind, but her reaction was loud enough to hear for miles. Her eyes snapped open, her hand connecting with his leg and squeezing hard.

  “What did I tell you, princess?” He turned it off again, crowing at the way she sagged.

  It took her a second to find words. “Look forward.”

  “That’s right.”

  He went back to licking and sucking at her throat, slipping his fingers beneath the neckline of her shirt to pinch at the hard bud of her nipple. Glancing up every few seconds to check her eyes. Her gaze remained fixed on the cityscape below, her grip on his thigh crushing.

  Eventually, they began to slow. He pulled his hand away. A station loomed, and he hit the button. Every muscle in her body tensed. He left it on a low pulsation, staring past her at the lone operator behind the glass as their car moved through the turn.

  “Smile at the man,” he urged.

  She did. Her reflection showed more of a grimace.

  “He has no idea, you realize. That you’re sitting here with that thing humming between your legs. That you’re mine.”

  Breathless, she leaned into him. “The way you’re . . . all over me. He probably has some clue.”

  “Probably.”

  Holding the man’s gaze, he tugged her earlobe between his teeth.

  It was only another moment before they accelerated again. He turned off the vibrator and glanced at the world below.

  Barcelona proper had more or less fallen away, though it was still visible in the distance. Beneath them, a wide-ranging park sprawled out. Manicured as it was, the swaths of green did something for his soul.

  But the ocean did even more.

  The cable car finally reached its peak, depositing them beside a road that led toward an old fort. “Come on.”

  He coaxed her out the same way he’d led her into the car, keeping one arm wrapped firmly around her waist as they purchased tickets and headed across the drawbridge. He played with her from time to time, giving her brief moments of stimulation as they passed the guard at the gate to the fort and as they headed up the stairs to the very top.

  “Oh, wow.”

  She staggered a step forward as they hit the stone roof of the place. It was a three-sixty panorama, with Barcelona’s sprawl to one side and the clear, bright blue of the Mediterranean to the other. Heading in the direction of the sea, he breathed in the salt of the air.

  With a low wall separating them from a long, long drop, they stared out across that expanse.

  She reached for his hand. “I can see why you wanted to come out here, Sir.”

  “Oh?” He stepped in behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist.

  “It’s the exact opposite of claustrophobic.”

  That it was. He kissed her cheek and gazed off into the distance again. “We didn’t have time to go too far outside the city, but this seemed like the next best thing. I heard the view was great.”

  “It is.”

  And yet it still took so much of his will to keep his gaze off her. She was here, sharing this moment with him. Making him feel like the king of all he saw, standing at the top of the world.

  All at once he wanted to give her something. He’d planned to make her wait until tonight, but . . .

  “You’ve been so good for me today, kitten. Doing exactly as I say, letting me touch you however I want.”

  Her breath caught. “Oh?”

  He leaned in close, putting his lips right to her ear. “You have three minutes.”

  He turned the vibrator on, ramping it up until her entire spine was electric. No one could see, so he placed his hand right over where it lay against her clit, increasing the pressure, until her body shook.

  “Dane—Sir—”

  “There are people behind us. They might be watching. We could be in some tourist’s picture right now.”

  “Oh God.”

  “Do you see the construction worker over there? He could look over here at any moment. See your face when you’re this fucking close.”

  “I—”

  “They’ll all know it’s me. Me who’s doing this to you. Giving this to you.” He who was an inch away from rubbing off against the full curve of her ass. He wasn’t going to be able to walk without giving himself away. He pressed his fingers harder through the fabric of her skirt, pitching his voice even lower. “They’ll all know you’re my little slut.”

  And she broke so fucking beautifully. Only the tiniest of whines escaped her lips, but her body was a live wire, pulsing against his hand. Her eyelids stuttered closed. Releasing her cunt, he yanked her head around, sealing his mouth over
hers to swallow all those bitten-off moans. Her sounds pitched higher, and her eyes flew open. She was right on that cusp between too sensitive and gearing up to go again, and the temptation tore at him to take her straight back over the edge.

  But no, their day had only just begun. It had been selfish to let her have even this much. Slowing the kiss, he slipped his hand into his pocket and dialed the intensity down. She went boneless the instant it turned off, gratitude leaking into the soft, sloppy motion of her mouth on his.

  “What do you say?” he asked.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Good girl. Don’t think your next one’s going to come so easily, though.”

  “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

  He chanced a glance around, but none of the people he’d pointed out while he’d been torturing her had so much as stopped to notice them. Smug in his satisfaction, he held her close, feeling the steady pounding of her heart behind her ribs. Staring off at the limitless blue of the sea.

  It might have been the closest he’d ever come to peace.

  chapter EIGHTEEN

  By the time they finished dinner that evening, Lexie was all but vibrating, and at the same time, there was this clarity to her thoughts. She was relaxed and on edge and ready to melt, and nothing had ever felt like this before.

  Like she was alive and safe and wanted.

  As Dane settled the bill and made to stand, she licked her lips. He’d left her absolutely no room to doubt him on that last part. The man had been eating her with his eyes all day. She’d given up her reluctance to be affectionate in public long ago, but he’d been pushing the envelope on even that.

  It had been a good day. A different day.

  On the surface, they’d spent it simply playing tourists. Two besotted Americans running around Barcelona together. After their trip to the top of the city, they’d taken the cable car back down, with the same rules that had held on the trip up. The single orgasm he’d allowed her on the roof of the fort had only served to whet her appetite, and the combination of his closeness and the sweet moments of pleasure and torture he bestowed on her had kept her at a low simmer for the rest of the day.

  Touring some gorgeous half-constructed cathedral and drinking cappuccinos in the Gothic Quarter. Taking in the spectacle of Las Ramblas and ducking into tiny shops in El Born.

  She’d scarcely cared what they were doing, honestly, because she’d been doing it with him. Because she’d been his.

  Her brother’s words from the day before floated back to her. He’d asked her what was wrong with her—wasting her day off doing things she didn’t care about, and she felt like she had her answer now.

  When you were close to someone, maybe it didn’t matter what you did. Maybe it didn’t even matter where you were.

  A kicking, angry instinct told her that wasn’t the right answer, but she couldn’t listen to it right now. People left, and Dane would do the same, but in this moment, here in this city, under this man’s will . . .

  The future didn’t really seem to matter.

  So it was on a cloud that she followed him out of the restaurant, but their driver wasn’t waiting for them. She paused, tilting her head to the side, only for Dane to give the toy between her legs a corrective buzz. She snapped out of it to find his arm extended, his brow raised in expectation.

  “Oh.” Slipping her hand into the crook of his elbow, she fell into step beside him. Her feet were aching after so much walking, even in flats, and she bit down on the urge to question him.

  He seemed to hear her all the same. “We’re not going far.”

  Sure enough, it was only a block and a half to their destination. Her confusion still hadn’t entirely abated by the time he held open the door.

  It was a tiny space, dimly lit. A bar lined one side of the room, while the rest of it was dominated by a raised wooden stage, maybe twenty feet square, ringed by tables and chairs. But Dane passed those by. After deftly flashing tickets he must have conjured out of thin air, he led her over to the far wall, where they stood. She looked in longing at the empty seats, but he shook his head.

  “I want to be able to touch you tonight.”

  A shiver hummed through her. Oh, well, in that case . . .

  The next best thing for her aching feet was to lean against the wall, and at least he allowed her that. Mirroring her position and yet looming over her, he wrapped an arm around her side, and she rested her head on his shoulder.

  “Is it too late to ask you what we’re doing here?”

  He chuckled, the sound deep and rumbly in his throat. “Not at all.” He glanced around. “I’ve been told that one cannot visit Spain without taking in flamenco.”

  Her head snapped up. “Flamenco?”

  “It’s more native to Madrid than here, but tonight’s act is supposed to be very authentic.”

  “How—” She cut herself off. Made herself think for a second. “Today. All of this. Where did it come from?”

  His mouth gave a small hint of a twitch, elusive and unreadable. “Well, there was this list . . .”

  Brows rising, she boggled. “This list?”

  Of course. The one he’d had on his phone the day before—quintessential experiences to be had in Barcelona. Despite how mediocrely their first attempts with it had gone, here he was, trying and trying again.

  And it had gone differently. When he wasn’t ignoring his own comfort level for her, and when she wasn’t trying to impress someone who wasn’t there. It had been a great day. An amazing day.

  “That’s—” She had to work to find her voice again. “That’s really sweet, actually.”

  This strange little shade of vulnerability brightened his eyes, there and gone in a flash. “Hey.” His voice was gruff. “Watch who you’re calling sweet. You’ll ruin my reputation.”

  “Your secret’s safe between us.” She mimed locking her lips, a flippant gesture, but it felt like a lot more.

  They were both guarding so many of each other’s secrets now. She that her big, buff, ruthlessly competent assistant was silently dreaming of mountains. That he got his kicks not being serviceable but by putting women on their knees.

  And he knew that she—the co-CEO in all but name—liked to be the one doing the kneeling. That she liked being taken care of after all, no matter how many times she’d insisted she just wanted to stand on her own two feet.

  Sometimes the exposure left her raw. There were reasons she didn’t show weakness in general. But there was something about Dane that made her feel safe.

  Proving that all over again, he curled an arm around her protectively as someone snuck past them to get to one of the seats. She glanced around as she was brushed. The place had been about half-full when they’d arrived, but seats had steadily been filling as they’d been standing there. She spied what had to be the performers moving around through the gaps in the curtain and shifted, restless.

  “I don’t know anything about this,” she said, gesturing vaguely at the stage.

  “Does that bother you?”

  “A little.” She liked having some sense of what she was getting into.

  “I don’t think it’ll matter.” The houselights began to dim, and he repositioned them, facing her so she had a good view of the stage. He stepped in close behind her, his chest a broad, warm plane against her spine. When he spoke again, his breath tickled her ear, the hot wash of it making her shiver. “Just experience. Enjoy.”

  She blinked hard against the growing darkness. Wasn’t that what he’d been trying to tell her all along? This gorgeous, sparkling day together, she’d come as close as she ever had to really being present and in the moment. He hadn’t led her astray yet. She didn’t believe he would now.

  A spotlight flickered to life, and she raised her hand to shield her eyes against the glare. While she hadn’t been paying attention, the performers had filed in, forming a semicircle around the back half of the stage. Two men with guitars and another sitting on a box. Everyone was dressed in bla
ck.

  Except one. Lexie’s gaze zeroed in on the woman at the edge of the stage, dressed in crimson and gold, ruffles everywhere, her long dark hair swept away from her face and pinned up with a bright red rose. Besides her costuming, she didn’t stand out, didn’t make any move to take the spotlight.

  It was one of the other women who did that. An older woman, a knitted shawl around her shoulders. She took one step forward, looked to her partners, and then from the silence, began to clap.

  The others all fell in, and the slap of palms became a thunder, echoing with deep thuds as the box beneath the one man became a drum, and then voices. Strings.

  Lexie didn’t understand a word, but the music pulled at something inside of her, genuine in a way so few things had ever sounded to her before. The vocals soared, mournful and plaintive, the singers’ mouths open and unself-conscious, putting everything they were into the song.

  But it was when the woman in red moved out of the shadows that Lexie’s breath stuttered inside her chest.

  The dancer was so still, hovering just on the edge of the spotlight. Then ever so slightly, she began to rock, heeled feet shuffling, more percussion than performance. She raised her hands above her head and closed her eyes.

  And Lexie could almost see it. Music swirled around her, and it was as if the dancer was feeling it out, finding it in the air, beginning to clap in time, harder.

  Until she moved. The air went out of Lexie’s lungs in a rush. God, the woman was glowing. This wasn’t any careful pose or restrained impression of beauty. It wasn’t the ballet. It was almost violent. The woman stormed and stomped and jumped her way across the stage, back and forth, feet moving so fast they were a blur, and she never lost her rhythm.

  Lexie stared, entranced, nearly forgetting the room around her.

  But not the man at her spine. Dane’s hand at her hip tightened, and he placed the other flat against her abdomen. She stood up straight, letting the subtle support of his touch keep her tall and strong and perfect.

  The hand at her hip disappeared, and somehow she didn’t even think to see it coming. The gentle buzz inside her panties made her gasp, her head dropping back against his chest.