Spring Training

by KB Winters

  I nodded, confirming her assumption, unsure of the root of worry on her face.

  “I didn’t realize…Grant, I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” I arched a brow at her and sat on the edge of the bed next to her.

  “You went to all this trouble, expecting…things…and I spooked.”

  I grabbed her chin between my thumb and forefinger, not hard enough to mark her, but firmly enough to let her know I was serious. “Don’t apologize to me again for what happened at the club. You didn’t do anything wrong.”

  I held her to the point where she couldn’t nod, but her eyes flashed in agreement, and I released her. “Besides, the night isn’t over yet. There’s still time.”

  “Okay,” she breathed.

  “Unless, you want me to punish you…” I wasn’t sure where the thought, or inclination, had come from, but something sparked in her at the suggestion and my own excitement jumped up another degree.

  Her eyes grew wide. “Punish me how?”

  It was a good question. I knew I couldn’t push her too hard, and that she was fragile, but maybe I could show her a taste. …

  She watched me turning over the question and her fingertips slid lower on her waist, teasing her own bare skin between the end of the corset and the edge of the panties. She stroked herself lower as I watched as though mirroring back to me where she wanted my touch.

  Everything inside was screaming at me to get started. I knew my discipline wouldn’t hold out much longer. After all, I’d already been waiting and dreaming of this night for two days. Longer than that, if I was truly honest. I stood from the bed and reached for her hand. “Come with me.”

  I led her to a room off my bedroom. It had originally been designed as an extra walk-in closet—however, since I had no need for a second closet—I’d converted it into my own miniature version of a play room. I had a kneeling bench, paddles, different toys, and even a leather crop. It wasn’t as extensive as some of the rooms I’d seen…some of the rooms that I’d been to…but it was enough to satisfy my urges. I cut a glance to Megan as she took it in, and there was a marked difference in her expression compared to her reaction at Fuego. This time, her face was alight with curiosity and fantasy, rather than pale with discomfort and fear.

  “Do you trust me?” I asked. It was a question asked and answered, but I needed to hear her say it again. To confirm her faith in me and her feelings and desire for me.

  She gave one last sweep of the room and then smiled at me. “Yes.”

  “Good.”

  Within minutes, I had her tied to the kneeling bench, her bare ass exposed to me as she bent over. Her bonds were the same silk scarves we’d played with in the past, and although she tugged gently at the restraints, I knew, without asking, that she was excited and not truly trying to get loose. She was panting as I ran my fingers along her ass, every few strokes. I dug my fingertips into her skin, leaving behind red streaks where I’d grabbed her flesh.

  I’d stripped her panties from her, but left her corset on so I could admire the sultry curves it accentuated and admire the lacing as it trailed up her skin. Across the room from the bench, a large mirror hung and gave us both the perfect view of me standing behind her. I was fully nude, my cock at attention, throbbing and pulsing, begging me to plunge into Megan, but I wanted to take my time.

  Megan’s lips were parted and her breaths were coming in short bursts as she got wetter and wetter with each stroke of my fingertips. I let them dip between her folds and spread her juices from end to end, circling the tight, throb that was begging for attention, before drifting my fingers back towards her perfect ass.

  “Grant,” she moaned and wriggled her hips.

  I smiled. I knew what she wanted, but there was something I wanted first.

  On the wall behind the bench, there was a shelf that contained a few different sized paddles and a riding crop. I took the crop from its place and showed it to Megan in the mirror. She gasped and her eyes went wide, but she left her body in position as I trailed it along her bare skin, just as I had my fingers moments before.

  “You wanted to know how I’d punish you. …” I drawled, pressing the leather into her skin.

  I hesitated for a moment. She trusted me. I could see it in her eyes and read it on her body. As she watched the handle of the crop, she got wetter and parted her knees, silently giving me permission to continue.

  “Megan, you need a safe word. “I trailed the flat tip of the crop across her back and down her ass. “That means when or if the feelings get to intense, you just say the word and I’ll stop. No questions asked.”

  “Okay, “she murmured. “What word?”

  “Red is a very common word subs use. If you don’t feel comfortable, you need to say ‘red’. If I ask you and you want me to continue, you say ‘green’.”

  “Green,”

  “Do you understand? I’ll stop everything if you say the word.”

  “Green, Grant, please continue.”

  The words coming out of her sweet mouth made my cock twitch. Maybe she was more ready from this than I’d previously thought.

  I reared the handle back and delivered a sharp slap to her skin. She gasped but then it turned to a moan as I rubbed my fingers over the place that had been marked. She shivered and I waited a beat before giving her another lashing. She moaned again, deeper this time, and I smiled at her in the mirror and she arched back. I walked around her naked body and smacked her ass cheek again. The moans coming from deep within her caused a burst of electricity to run through me. I wanted to—needed to—control myself.

  I set the crop aside and massaged the tender area with my fingers and then brushed the tip of my cock against her skin. This time it was my turn to shudder and shake as the sensations danced over my skin. I slid between her lips and lined myself up square behind her. “Megan, I’m going to fuck you now. I’m going to fuck you deep and hard.”

  “Please.” She whispered. I could feel her pussy contracting and throbbing without even entering her and with the way she moaned and squirmed, I knew she was ready.

  “Hold still,” I demanded, slapping her ass with my bare hand. The red fingerprints on her bottom only stood to arouse me that much more and the head of my cock was glistening by the time I entered her.

  I plunged into her, all the way to the base, without warning and she screamed out. Her hands gripped the bar that she was tied to and her knuckles went white as I quickly pulsed out and back in again, surprised by how easily she accommodated me. She felt like she’d been worked over and stretched for hours, easily taking me in, but still…she was so fucking tight around my shaft. There was no denying that Megan was a perfect fit…in so, so many ways.

  I thrust in and out of her, bringing us both closer to the edge. My release was coming quick and while I knew I could slow it down, I didn’t want to. I wanted to come all over her perfect ass as she reared back, pressing into me with each thrust. As she was getting close, I slipped a finger deep inside her ass and she moaned out my name over and over as I brought her shattering over the edge before letting myself go, releasing my hot jizz on her skin as she contracted every muscle and shuddered a final release. After a few moments, she sagged forward, heaving breaths coming in a ragged rhythm as she clung to the bench.

  “Grant…” she panted. “That…was…”

  She never got around to finishing her thought, but then again, she didn’t really need to.

  I felt the exact same way.

  Chapter Seven — Megan

  The night with Grant had been a dream. Something from a deep, dark fantasy that I hadn’t even consciously remembered having. But, overcoming my fear and giving into him had unlocked something inside of me, and it was hard to imagine ever being with anyone else.

  It was a dangerous feeling.

  I knew that I should be more careful. I had this feeling I was standing on the side of a cliff, staring down the ledge at the dark hollows below. The smart thing would be to pull back, away
from the edge, to get to safety before it was too late. But, I couldn’t bring myself to do it. Instead, I found myself inching just a little bit further, straining to see what might lie at the bottom.

  I shook my head, trying to banish the thoughts. I’d left Grant’s that morning—after a fast and furious round in the shower—to go to the campus library and finish studying for my finals.

  Everything was coming to a head in the week ahead of me and I needed to pour all of my energy and brain power into getting through it, not sitting around fantasizing about Grant. I had two days left at Timeless Timepieces to conclude my internship, and after that, I’d be taking my finals and school would be over. That was what mattered, I reminded myself, staring back at the article in front of me that I’d already started reading three times, never making it past the second or third paragraph. I gritted my teeth and started again.

  I was halfway down the page when my body seized, and I pressed my eyes closed against the jolt from the memory of Grant thrusting into me as I screamed his name against the glass wall of his shower.

  Shit. I took deep breaths until the tremor passed and my heart rate returned to normal. If I kept it up, not only was I going to flunk my final, but I was going to need to take an extra trip to the Laundromat to wash all my panties…again.

  My cheeks warmed, and I glanced around the library wondering if anyone was watching me. It was full of students, but shockingly quiet. Everyone was in crunch time mode and attempting to cram months’ worth of knowledge into their brains right before the test so they could properly regurgitate it all in hopes of producing a brilliant essay, or fly through the standardized test sheet without a flicker of hesitation.

  I didn’t necessarily care about my grades at this point—all I wanted was to pass. I’d never been much of a perfectionist with school. And especially at this point, after five years of full time college courses, I was going to be happy with whatever would give me a one way ticket out of the graduation ceremony and into the real world.

  Not that I had any clue what that was going to be like.

  That was an entirely different set of problems I was putting to the side. I’d been turning over ideas in my mind for weeks but had yet to come up with any solid ideas. Naturally, I wanted to pursue my art and see where it could take me, but being paid for art wasn’t exactly as easy to do as answering a job ad or sending out a stack of crisp resumes.

  So far, Grant hadn’t said anything, but I had no doubt that he would like to keep me in my role at Timeless Timepieces. Instead of an internship, he could transition it back to a paid position—and an incredibly well paid position at that—as I’d learned when I’d first worked for him. It was tempting, but there was something holding me back, something that was bigger than the fact that my job there really had very little to do with art. The amount of time I spent working on sketches or designs paled in comparison to the amount of time spent staring at a computer screen, wading through an ocean of thoughts and opinions in an effort to mine out actionable data. However unappealing, I’d batted the idea around more than I would have ever thought possible when I was first forced into the internship.

  After last night, I was more mixed up than ever before.

  I set my pen down and took a long sip from my lukewarm coffee. I glanced longingly at the coffee shop across the way from the library. I could see the sign lit up from the nearby window and started to rise, like a moth to a flame, but then decided against it and glued my ass to the chair.

  “Another hour, then you can get a coffee,” I whispered to myself.

  My resolve broke fifteen minutes later and I gave myself permission to make a coffee run. I’d asked a nearby student if she’d mind watching my stuff, and then made a run for the closest coffee shop. On my way back, I was busy making a list in my head of all the work I still had left to do and when I rounded the corner, on my way back from the coffee shop, I ran straight into the arms of Logan. “Shit!” I screeched as my coffee jostled and spilled from the spout of the cup as it crumpled in on itself from the impact.

  Logan jumped back and made a hissing sound as he was sloshed with the hot beverage.

  “What the hell, Logan? What are you doing here?” I glared up at him, ignoring the liquid soaked through my shirt to my skin.

  “I was hoping to see you,” he answered. He reached to swipe away some of the coffee from my hand and I smacked him hard across his knuckles. He looked surprised at the sting and for a flash of a second, I felt a surge of guilt, but then I remembered who he really was, and the anger quickly took over again.

  “Are you following me? How did you know I’d be here?” I demanded, slamming the remains of my coffee into the nearest trash container before swirling back to face him.

  Logan shrugged—an infuriatingly casual response. “It’s finals week. I took a gamble.”

  I looked beyond his shoulder to the front entrance of the school library and figured it was a pretty reasonable guess. But still…

  “I don’t have time for you, Logan.” I moved to push past him but he was faster and stopped me, bracing a hand on each of my shoulders. I glared up at him, curling my lip back in unabashed hostility. “Get away from me. I told you before, I never wanted to see you again and I was serious.”

  “Please, Megan. Hear me out.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Seriously? Aren’t there a million other girls you can run your game on? I promise it would be a lot easier to score some new chick than standing here wasting your breath on me.” I hunched my shoulders for a split second and shrugged out of his grip.

  I’d taken two steps towards the library when he said, “I left her.”

  My feet froze in my tracks. I didn’t need to ask who “her” was. I pinched my eyes closed and took a deep breath before pivoting back to face Logan. I took a moment to consider his face, and for the first time, saw the red rims around his eyes and the dark circles under his eyes, as though he hadn’t slept in days. My heart twinged as I understood his exhaustion…and the likely reason behind it.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked it to stall for time, to give my brain a chance to catch up and process everything.

  “I left my wife. I—I want to be with you.”

  “You don’t even know me, Logan.” My words were harsh, but I kept my voice soft. Inside, I was still seething that he’d had the audacity to track me down and interrupt my day after everything he’d pulled, but there was something else there too. I realized that I pitied him. It didn’t excuse what he’d done, or the lies he’d told, but the hot anger started to drain away little by little.

  Logan glanced away as though he couldn’t bear to hold my stare any longer. His eyes focused on something over my shoulder and he was quiet for a long beat before giving a small nod. “You’re right, Megan.” His eyes found mine again and I saw a new strength glowing behind them. “I don’t know you, at least, not as well as I’d like to. But, that’s the whole point, the reason that I did what I did. My wife and I have had problems, deep, deep problems, pretty much since the beginning of our marriage.”

  He paused and I took the chance to interject, “It’s really none of my business.” Something about his confession felt too close, too intimate. Even though we were standing on a sidewalk, in the middle of a public place, with other people bustling past, it was like we were two people locked in a bubble and I needed to get out.

  “I made it your business,” Logan replied, his eyes shifting to his shoes. “Megan, I wasn’t looking for anything when we met. It just happened.”

  “Nothing happened, Logan. We went on one date, two if you count the coffee after the fiasco at the gallery. You’re making it sound like we had some long, drawn out affair. We barely kissed. You want my advice? Go back to your wife, make it work.”

  “You don’t understand,” he replied, his voice lost and sad, almost far away sounding.

  I shook my head, trying to set aside the sting of pity I felt for him. “You’re right. I don’t understand, and I�
�m not going to, because I refuse to get involved in this and you can’t say—or do—anything that will change my mind.”

  Before he could say anything else, I walked past him and went back inside the library. I avoided looking out the window as I thanked the girl sitting next to me for guarding my belongings while I’d stepped out and slid back into my seat. My laptop was open and my notes were still arranged in the same order, and yet, it was like everything had changed. Logan’s sad voice and forlorn confession was still echoing in my mind and no matter how loud I cranked the music filtered through my ear buds, or how many times I read and re-read the page in front of me, my fingers were frozen, hovering over the keys with no idea what to do, and I knew it had nothing to do with the half finished essay in front of me.

  * * * *

  “Hey gorgeous, what are you doing tonight?”

  I smiled at the warmth in Grant’s voice. It was almost enough to make me forget about the encounter with Logan, the questions about my future beyond graduation, and the stack of unfinished study cards lying across the bed in my hotel room. I stood and walked to the window. “Studying,” I answered.

  He groaned in a playful way. “Are you always so responsible?”

  “It’s a pretty serious flaw,” I replied, my playful tone matching his. I loved the moments when Grant put aside his somewhat stiff exterior, the armor he wore at the office, and let himself free. It was intoxicating and I so desperately wanted to know what the key was that unlocked that side of him.

  “We’re going to have to work on that,” he replied.

  “Really?” I laughed and rolled my eyes. “And how would you recommend we do that?”

  “Oh, I have some ideas,” he said, dropping his voice low.

  My cheeks flushed and a swirl of lust flew through me, leaving my skin tingly in its wake.

  “Tell me where you are, I’ll come get you,” he prodded.

  “I’m at home, but I have to stay here,” I said, wincing at the lie that so easily passed my lips. I hadn’t told Grant about staying in the hotel. He knew the basics of the drama with my family after he’d rescued me from Max’s apartment, but I hadn’t told him that I still hadn’t gone home yet.