by Jenna Ives
“That’s right,” he growled in approval. “Open yourself to me. Get wet for me.”
He took advantage of her relaxed position and dipped one finger deeply inside her body to draw out some of her hot, creamy essence. Isabella shivered at the invasion, then gasped as he deliberately spread her honey all around so that his fingers could glide more easily across her sex. “Yes, this is what you want,” he murmured. “To be hot and slick, just like this, ready to take my cock inside you. You want me to fuck you, to give you pleasure. But I want you to be desperate for it, frantic for it, before I finally give it to you.”
Isabella’s head spun at the blatant carnality of his words.
He eased his grip in order to slowly lower her panties down her legs and toss them aside. She was fully exposed to him now, and for a moment she almost second-guessed her decision. But in all their years together, her boyfriend Jeff had never made her feel this way, never made her body flush with heat, her skin tingle with desire, and every nerve-ending jump with such heightened awareness.
She wanted this.
He sucked in a breath. “Christ. Your body is so beautiful.”
She heard the clear admiration in his voice as he stroked her again, one long caress that slid through her wetness. His fingers found her sensitive little bud and he concentrated his motion there, circling it, tugging on it gently, mimicking the rhythm of the spasms she would feel during orgasm. He was pulling, taunting, squeezing her. Her legs spread wider to give him even greater access, and her body began to jerk in response to the rhythm his fingers were setting. It was a wildly intense pleasure. She could feel the hardness of his cock pressing up against her backside, and felt trapped between two potent weapons—his magic hands in front and his rigid shaft in back. The sensations sent her head spinning, and she inhaled sharply with each firm tug of his fingers, knowing she couldn’t take much more of this intimate assault. She wanted to let go and give in to it.
“Not yet,” he hissed as he pulled away from her.
He spun her around to face him, the flexible chain restraint making the move easy to accomplish. She momentarily felt his hot breath on her face, and then, with a whoosh of air, she realized he’d fallen to his knees. He lifted her legs and draped one over each of his shoulders, positioning her for easy access by his mouth. This wasn’t what she’d expected. She’d heard him rip open the foil of the condom, after all, and just a minute ago he’d told her he was going to fuck her. But this? She’d been with Jeff long enough to have tried just about everything couples try together, but even when Jeff had wanted to do this, it had taken a lot to convince her. Mr. Sexy, on the other hand, gave her no time for self-consciousness or doubt. He spread her sex with his thumbs and pressed his mouth against her, exploring every inch of her with those luscious lips and his eager tongue.
With that gorgeous mouth.
Isabella gasped through her gag. The sensations were incredible. She only wished she could see it as well as feel it. The mental image of his head buried between her thighs, his mouth pressed hard up against her soft, wet flesh, sent such a carnal thrill through her that she shuddered. Her body was so wired, so sensitive, that every rasp of his hot, velvety tongue sent sharp spikes of pleasure radiating throughout her body.
Mr. S seemed to be enjoying it, too. She could definitely feel the hum of his mouth against her as he moaned. It was amazing—a little vibrating sensation that added another touch of the erotic to what he was already doing to her. Or was he specifically humming like that for her pleasure?
Maybe it’s a trick of the trade…
She smiled and gave herself over to him fully, angling her body to press harder against his mouth, wanting more of his magic lips and his hot tongue. Her pulse began to race and her blood started to pound. Just another minute and she would—
“Not yet,” he hissed again, pulling away from her once more.
Frustration ripped a muffled protest from her throat. He slipped her legs off his shoulders, while she tried to drag in air through her nose, hoping to calm her racing heart. A small sound made her realize that he had stood. He grabbed for her legs again, but this time he wrapped them around his waist, pulling her tightly toward him. Without a word, he thrust his cock inside her, penetrating deeply. She gasped, shocked at the sudden, violent invasion—such a contrast to his gentle foreplay. She bucked her hips in a half-hearted protest, but he took advantage of her move to slide his cock even deeper inside her. She tried twisting her hips instead, but that only allowed him to rub up against her in places that made her gasp again, this time in surprised pleasure. She finally stopped moving altogether and simply waited for what he was about to do.
He’s the expert, remember…
Holding her underneath her knees, he settled slowly into a rhythmic motion—pulling back out of her and then pushing in deeper, a routine made easy by the rocking flexibility of her chain restraint.
The feeling was sensational. Isabella tried to measure the length of his impressive cock as he slipped inch after delicious inch inside her. In and out he slid, over and over, coating himself with her slick wetness, flexing his hips to go deeper, until she was helplessly moaning with the pleasure of it.
And wanting more. So much so that she crossed her ankles around his waist in order to pull him more fully inside her.
He gave a small laugh of obvious approval.
Damn, this Mr. S knew exactly what he was doing—he was in total control of her body. His rhythm abruptly changed from those long, slick slides to a short bucking motion, which immediately set her on a path spiraling quickly upward. Up and to the edge of falling into that abyss of pleasure.
Please, please…please let me come this time!
“Yes!” he ordered, and she let go, all the tension in her body finally breaking in an explosion of fireworks. She screamed a muffled release through her gag as her body contracted around him in sharp spasms of pleasure that went on and on until they left her breathless.
Chapter Five
Logan ground himself into her writhing body one more time, determined to give her every bit of pleasure he could.
He’d been a bad boy, after all, and he felt he needed to atone.
Tasting her wasn’t part of this particular scenario, but he hadn’t been able to resist it. She was delicious, all cinnamon and sugar, and he’d wanted to sample her honey firsthand. Simple as that. He had the liberty with these scenarios to improvise, to bend the rules as he saw fit, but tonight was supposed to be about her needs, not his.
Her needs.
Yes, he understood her game now. She’d clearly given him the consent he’d demanded in order to proceed, and then immediately fought him over what he was doing. She’d squeezed her legs together to prevent his access to her body; bucked her hips to try to escape his cock. Obviously she did want to be forced—maybe not quite raped, but she did want to play rough.
He could do rough.
Didn’t particularly like it, but if it was what the client wanted…
He frowned. Tonight was a perfect example of why he owned the company, but never participated in its games. He had a hard time separating sex from emotion, always had. He understood the need for a business like his—God knew that both his sister Diane and his large backlog of clients had convinced him of that fact—but to him, sex should be the expression of some feeling. It should be based on mutual attraction, a deep like, or, ideally, love. Not a Band-Aid solution to problems in a woman’s real relationships.
Then again, who was he to judge? He was a pathetic romantic. It wasn’t fair to impose his values and judgments on others, especially considering his line of work.
And after all, it had been his decision to personally take on this particular client tonight. He’d gone against his own rules when he’d opted to service her himself.
Why had he done it?
He knew why, or at least he’d thought he did. The four scenarios she’d chosen had astounded him. He’d wanted to see what kind of woman would or
der up decadence like this, and all in one night! But she was so unlike what he’d expected. He’d been prepared for a jaded, experienced, world-weary, sexually blasé woman. But instead, this woman came across as a young, sweet, almost untouched schoolgirl. Hell, the way she shuddered and shook under his touch seemed so fresh, so genuine. He knew a woman could fake an orgasm, but could she fake her reaction to a man’s touch like that?
Well he knew this one hadn’t faked her orgasm. He had witnessed her violent contractions, felt her inner muscles grabbing at him, pulling his cock even deeper inside her than he’d forced it. And he’d certainly forced it. After his lapse with his mouth, he’d been determined to make it up to her with his cock. Hard and insistent, he’d used it to drive her to her breaking point and then beyond, straight over the edge. He’d done well. But she’d fought him in that, too, by bucking her hips, and twisting her body to try to get away from him.
Obviously she’d done that for a reason.
She wanted to be punished. He’d threatened her with punishment earlier, and her actions just now simply confirmed it was what she expected.
He could do punishment.
Still, a little something inside him was disappointed.
Isabella tried to catch her breath after the shattering pleasure of her climax, but it was difficult to do with Mr. S still hard as a rock inside her.
Hard as a rock…
How on earth had he resisted his own release, considering what they’d just done? Oh, wait. He was a gigolo. Of course he would have incredible endurance, amazing stamina, considering his line of work. Yes, that was it. She must seem like a silly novice to him. He’d made her climax in mere seconds.
Still, she’d never experienced sex like this in her life, and it wasn’t just because of the outrageous position. Her orgasm had literally triggered white-hot bolts of lightning in her head, and sent spasms shooting throughout her body with incredible intensity.
Her legs were shaky but still locked around his body, and she rolled her hips in order to feel his thick cock still deep inside her. She was determined to take everything she could get from him tonight, naïve as it might seem. So she was surprised and unexpectedly pleased when he growled low in his throat and ground tightly up against her in response, sliding his strong hands under her backside to hold her up.
Frankly, she felt like growling herself. He had unleashed something inside her, some latent sexual tigress she hadn’t even known was there. Well, maybe not a tigress, but certainly a tiger cub, eager to learn what he could teach her.
She would never have another night like this one, and even though sex couldn’t possibly get any better than what she’d just experienced, she didn’t want this wild night to end. She didn’t want to leave, dreaded the moment Mr. S would take her back to a lonely street corner and her logical, laid-out life.
She cried out a protest when he slowly pulled out of her and eased her legs gently back down to the floor, and she was still struggling with her scattered emotions when she felt the chain restraint lower her arms until the tension was completely slack. She was aware of the dull ache in her shoulders as he disconnected the chain from her handcuffs, but it was a small price to pay for the enormous pleasure he’d just made her feel.
“Come with me,” he ordered.
No, no! It couldn’t be over. She didn’t want to go home yet, but he resolutely pulled her along. Her legs were wobbly, but even so, she tried to dig in her heels on the slippery concrete floor. She jerked on the handcuffs and tried to speak through her gag, frantically shaking her head.
Maybe she could talk him into a few more minutes. Or maybe he’d let her hire him for a repeat session. If only he would take off this damned gag!
His steps slowed, and he and Isabella came to a stop maybe ten feet away from where they’d started, well short of the exit door. She paused and tilted her head, waiting.
Had he recognized her plea? Had her prayer been answered?
Whichever it was, it seemed he wasn’t taking her home.
Bad girl.
Logan scowled.
Their first scenario was over, but the fact that she was still overtly fighting him—digging in her heels, yanking on her handcuffs—meant that she was definitely asking for her second scenario. To be punished. And the violence of her struggle indicated she was looking for something more potent than just a ceremonial slap of his hand on her delicate backside.
Good thing he’d prepared several alternatives.
Which one was she secretly hoping for? Which one would please her while also seem like appropriate retribution for her resistance? If not his hand, then what? He glanced over at the array of toys on the nearby wall for his choices. Paddle, crop, whip…
He bit his lip.
She had a beautiful backside, with lush cheeks that his fingers itched to knead, to caress. It was the one part of her that he definitely hadn’t paid adequate attention to yet. It seemed a shame to mar those perfectly ripe globes, but, then again, after he punished them he’d get to comfort them.
He glanced again at the wall. Hmm…he knew just which device would do the trick. She would get what she wanted, but then, so would he.
His cock twitched in anticipation.
Chapter Six
“You tried to fight me.”
Isabella shivered at the silky menace she heard in Mr. S’s voice. His words were threatening, but he delivered them in such a sinfully seductive tone that she wasn’t really scared. How could she be, after he’d given her such an incredible orgasm? And as long as he wasn’t sending her home, she felt she could take anything he had in store for her. Or, rather, anything that other woman, his client, had paid for.
And, technically, Mr. S was right. At the beginning of all this, Isabella had tried to fight him, but once she’d realized he was a gigolo, her protest had initially been for modesty’s sake. Yes, protested would a more appropriate word. She hadn’t really fought him.
She’d only truly struggled just now—when she thought he was taking her home. How ironic was that?
“You fought me even though I only wanted to give you pleasure,” he whispered dangerously in her ear. “I told you I would punish you if you did that.”
Isabella inhaled sharply. He was going to punish her? Wait a minute, this might be a bit more than she’d bargained for. Had his client paid for punishment, or was he doing this just because Isabella had resisted him?
What exactly was he planning?
Despite wanting to stay with him, she felt a twinge of fear. She was a relative neophyte when it came to sex, so she had no idea what exactly sexual punishment might entail. He tugged on her handcuffs and she pulled back against him, shook her head and tried once again to speak through her gag.
Maybe he’d let her ask.
Her resistance didn’t even give him pause. He all but dragged her forward, until she suddenly came in contact with a padded bar of some sort. Like a gymnast’s balance beam maybe. At least that’s what it felt like, considering she couldn’t see it.
Mr. S continued to pull insistently at her wrists, until her arms were extended to their full length out in front of her, and then he pulled her even farther, until she was forced to bend over the waist-level bar at a slight angle. He stretched her a few inches more, and then hooked her handcuffs to a latch on a wall, at about shoulder height. She knew it was a wall because she could feel smooth wood beneath her fingertips.
Pulled taut at this awkward angle, with her naked buttocks prominently exposed as she bent over the bar, she suddenly knew what kind of punishment this would be. But then Mr. S added an unexpected twist by moving around to stand behind her, forcing her legs wide apart, and guiding her feet into something that felt like stirrups set in the floor.
“I told you I’d punish you if you fought me,” he said again as he ominously caressed her rear cheeks.
She was completely at his mercy spread out like this before him, and she thought again about protesting through the gag, but he obviously t
hought this was all part of her game. If she objected, he would simply be more determined. It had been the way he’d consistently reacted so far tonight, ignoring her protests.
Wait a minute…
I understand your game now, he’d said.
She inhaled sharply in sudden comprehension. Was he playing rough because she was playing hard to get? But she’d only played hard to get because he’d gotten the wrong woman!
She forced herself to breathe and logically think this situation through. If Mr. S was a hired gigolo, he wouldn’t actually hurt her. His job was to please her, and everything he’d done so far had pleased her enormously. So, despite this threat of sexual punishment, it should be all right. Maybe even pleasurable. As long as she didn’t struggle.
She tried to hold onto that logic as she waited for what he’d do.
She heard him moving around, shifting objects, and then suddenly she heard a crisp snap. The next moment, she felt one of his hands back on her exposed buttocks, gently stroking and squeezing her rear cheeks. She swallowed hard, but concentrated on the caress of his hand, smooth and firm, as it glided from the small of her back, over one cheek, down to the top of her leg, and then back up again. Mmm. She liked the sureness, the confidence in his touch, the way he seemed to know a woman’s body so well. She was relaxing into the pleasure of that caress when he abruptly pulled his hand away.
And replaced it with a stinging pain that nearly stole her breath.
Her head snapped up and she tried not to howl in outrage. She had expected a slap of his hand, but by the feel of it, he had struck her buttocks with a whip, maybe even something like an old-fashioned cat-o-nine-tails, because she was smarting in several different places.
After the stinging blow, his hand returned to stroke and soothe the places where he had hit her. His touch was cool on her tender flesh, and she tried to breathe, to concentrate on that comforting gesture and not on the surprising pain. But as soon as the stinging died away, he removed his hand and quickly struck her again.
