by Geneva Lee
“Beautiful, there’s one problem with it.”
She narrowed her eyes and drew back. “Which is?”
“I can’t fuck you on that one,” I said in a gruff voice, grabbing her hips and yanking her back. Show and tell was over. “I’ve been dreaming about nailing this hot CEO on her power desk.”
“I guess you’ll have to settle for the floor.”
I raised an eyebrow, taking her chin in my hand. “You don’t belong on the floor…unless you’re on your knees.”
“I’ll write that down.” The slight tremble in her voice undermined her barb. It was my favorite form of foreplay, watching as she shifted from bold and confident to panting and desperate.
Trailing the back of my hand over her cheek, I murmured, “I’m so fucking proud of you.”
“I haven’t done anything yet,” she whispered, an uncharacteristically shy edge running through her words.
“Don’t do that,” I ordered. “Don’t doubt yourself, because there’s nothing to doubt.”
She tilted her face against my hand, her eyes closing. “I needed to hear that.”
“I’m going to tell you every day,” I promised her. I would find a way to, even if it was nothing more than a text. My business was built on the bones of my father. Everything about my life was the result of my own broken soul. Belle’s career would never be that way. It would be honest and empowering and daring—just like her.
“I miss you,” she said in a low voice that sliced through me.
“I know, beautiful.” Cupping her jaw, I angled my mouth to meet hers and brushed a kiss over her lips. “This won’t last forever.”
“What if I want it to?” Her eyelashes fluttered down as she spoke.
“This separation won’t last. We”—I corrected her—“are forever.”
Christ. So much for not giving her too much hope. I shouldn’t have told her that, not when I couldn’t stand behind those words, even if I meant them.
“How can you be sure?” Her voice was so small, as fragile and lovely as she was.
She was asking a lot of me today, more than I was able to give her. I could only show her by sating her thirst for reassurance in a more primal language—one I knew she understood. Slipping my hands to her waist, I unzipped her jeans and dipped my hand into her panties. Holy fuck, she was soaked. I’d been correct. This was exactly the consolation she needed.
“Does it make you wet to know I own you?” I asked as my lips swept down her throat. “To know I’ve claimed you as mine?
“Forever?”
“Forever, beautiful,” I repeated as I pushed her jeans to the floor. “You belong to me.”
She watched transfixed as I freed my cock from my pants. I loved when she looked at me like that—apprehensive and fervent, as if it was the first time. Lifting her by the ass, I carried her to the wall. She wiggled in my arms, pushing her hot, moist pussy in invitation against my shaft. It slid slickly across my tip and my restraint slipped. I slammed her against the plaster, sending dust scattering over our heads.
“Is that what you need?” I asked, grinding against her swollen mound. She shuddered as she nodded, bucking furiously in a frantic ploy for more contact. Her fingers gripped my shirt as she urged me closer, her shapely legs coiling around my waist. “This is why I have to tie you up, beautiful. You can’t fucking control yourself, can you?”
She bit her lip, but it didn’t hide her smirk. The woman could give as good as she got. She knew exactly what buttons to push.
“You want to play coy?” I rolled my groin, so that she couldn’t get enough leverage. Pinning her with my hips, I wrenched her arms over her head and continued to circle her engorged clit mercilessly until I could feel it throbbing against the head of my dick.
“Bad girls have to wait for it,” I warned as I bit her collarbone. Bending lower, I captured the peak of her breast in my teeth and began to suck the tip through the soft cotton of her t-shirt. She arched against me, fighting my hold on her wrists, but I held her steady. “Bad girls need to be taught lessons like patience.”
A low, throaty cry escaped her mouth as I moved on to her next tit. My dick jolted at the sound, growing so hard that it physically hurt. Fuck, that was the cost of patience. I was starving for her, turning inside out with want. I wanted to push inside her sweet cunt and destroy her like she threatened to destroy my self-control. But if it meant I could torture this beautiful, perfect woman until she was begging for release, I could subsist on her squeals and moans. Each sound she made was more delicious than the last.
“Please,” she sobbed. Dropping her lips, she continued to plead, but her whispered entreaties were lost on me. This was becoming a lesson in temperance for both of us.
“Shh, beautiful. I’m going to make you come—hard—when I’m ready for you to.”
I was always ready for her to come, but this time I needed to watch—needed to see my dick marking what was mine. Dropping her hands, I guided her back to her feet as she scrabbled at the wall so as not to fall. Her shirt clung to her belly, giving me a better view of her soft, creamy thighs pressed together so tightly that only the barest hint of her delicate pink folds was visible. Quivering. Raw. It was fucked up to get off on making her wait and I gave not one fuck. Gripping her hip, I spun her around and pushed her gently to the wall. Belle melted into it, arms splayed, sticking her ass out to me like an offering.
I hooked my arm under her left leg and pinned her knee against the plaster. I shoved inside her, giving her no time to acclimate as I began to drive my cock deep, the force of my thrusts lifting her entirely off her other foot.
“Oh God, I’m yours,” she cried out. “Yours.”
“Yes, you are,” I crooned, my hand sliding from her hip to clutch her neck. I buried my mouth against her ear, relishing her soft gasps as I squeezed. “I’m going to fuck your pussy raw so that you remember that.”
She tensed around me, clamping down in quick, violent surges— and then she fell away, coming with such force that the pulse of her channel milked my own climax from me. I stayed inside her watching as my climax leaked around my root, our bodies still notched together. When I finally withdrew, it spilled down her seam and she dashed toward the loo to clean up.
I tucked my dick back in my pants. Satisfied but not altogether sated. She reappeared, darting around me to reach her pants, but I snagged them before she could. My mind already preoccupied with the other spots in her office that needed to be christened.
“I won’t get any work done today without those.” She planted her hands on her narrow hips.
“Consider it repayment for all the times you kept me distracted at the office.” I dangled them just out of reach.
“You hired me…and fired me.”
“And now I have a perpetual erection at work,” I admitted. “Maybe I should come and work for you. Of course, my office has much sturdier furniture.”
She licked her lips, no doubt remembering the things I’d done to her on my desk.
I smirked and tossed her the pants. “That’s why you need a real desk.”
“What does it mean that we’ve chosen a quiet little spot for Saturday night drinks?” I asked as I slid onto the stool beside Edward’s. The pub he’d chosen was off the beaten path, far away from the usual hot spots we frequented on the weekends. Apart from a few regulars who took up residence at their tables as if they were holding court, the place was empty. After the busy week I’d had, I was more than happy with his choice.
“I suppose that we’re in danger of becoming adults.” He pecked my cheek in welcome and grabbed my hands to study my ensemble. “You even look like an adult.”
I batted his hand away as I adjusted the skirt of my dress underneath me. Since he’d texted me to meet him here, I’d opted for a simple navy sheath, leather jacket and boots. “Are you saying you don’t approve? Because you’re wearing jeans. I didn’t even know you owned jeans.”
“No. Only that we are in danger of being old,�
�� he teased, a bemused grin lighting across his boyish face. “I suppose our dancing days are behind us.”
“Next stop the retirement village, but first a drink.”
Edward passed me a pint with a laugh. I took the beer, clinking it against his.
“So I was told we needed to celebrate,” he prompted.
I quickly filled him in on the developments of the last week. Edward played the best friend perfectly, exclaiming gleefully at the right moments.
“And how are you feeling about all of this?” he asked.
Edward had kept his questions to a minimum since I had surprised him and Clara with the news that I was starting my own business. If he had any concerns over where my capital was coming from, he hadn’t expressed them. He also hadn’t questioned my sanity. He’d left that part to me.
“Overwhelmed,” I admitted, “but in a good way.”
It was nice to talk about it with someone who didn’t want to bounce strategy ideas. One of the reasons I’d left Lola off the invitation list for the evening. And while Smith was certainly interested, we both had a tendency to get easily distracted by other activities.
“Well, if you need any dashing models, I am available.” He struck a ridiculous pose that sent us both into a fit of giggles.
“Sadly, we’re focusing entirely on female lines at the moment.”
“My offer stands,” he said in a serious tone.
Swatting him on the shoulder, I decided it was time to change the subject. “So wedding bells?”
“My reprieve was short.” He downed the rest of his drink and shook his head. “I’m afraid you can leave the betting pool open. We haven’t set a date.”
“You can’t avoid it forever.” I’d seen how massive his fiance David’s wedding planning notebook had gotten in the last few weeks. Edward was working on borrowed time.
“Soon,” he promised.
“Ugh, I hate when men do that!” I snapped. “And I bet David does as well.”
“Why would you say that?” he countered, motioning for another round from the bartender. “Are you having romantic troubles?”
“Don’t try to turn this around on me,” I warned him.
“All’s fair. You’ve been avoiding the subject nearly as long as I’ve been avoiding the aisle.”
“That’s not even remotely true,” I said flatly. “I got fired a few weeks ago. How long have you been engaged?”
“Nope,” he stopped me. “I changed the subject. You got fired, but have you ceased all duties involving Smith Price?”
“God, no wonder you’re avoiding the altar if you think of it as a duty!”
“I knew it!” he exclaimed, shaking a finger in my direction. “Did he fire you because he couldn’t get any work done around you?”
The arrival of the next round saved me from having to answer the question. It wasn’t that I wanted to keep things from Edward, but the status of my relationship needed to remain on the hush-hush.
“You know I could really use a second set of eyes on these logos I just got.”
“You really are all business.” Edward bumped my shoulder. “Show them to me.”
“I guess Lola isn’t the only workaholic.” But even as I spoke, I pulled my phone from my jacket pocket.
If Edward had an opinion on that, he didn’t say anything. He had plenty of thoughts on the logo, however. An hour later, we’d settled on combining the modern style of one with the graphic of another.
“It’s perfect,” I said, visualizing what the revised logo was going to look like as a text flashed across the top of my mobile. Tapping it, I read through Smith’s message twice. It didn’t make any sense, but before I could respond, another one appeared. There was no mistaking the picture attached. I recognized the lush velvet corridor immediately.
He wanted me to meet at Velvet. The club he’d sold. The place he’d asked me to stay away from.
I swallowed hard, trying to digest his request as I checked to make sure the message was actually from him. It had come from his number. He had to have a good reason for inviting me, but everything about it felt wrong. A flutter of panic tumbled through my belly as I considered what it would be like to walk back through that door.
“What’s wrong?” Edward said, studying my face.
“Nothing.” I forced myself to sound cheerful as I pocketed my mobile. “Apparently I have a date.”
“David will be thrilled to have me home early. He got the new issue of Modern Wedding.”
I tried to smile, but my mouth had stopped working; instead my heart raced as we said our goodbyes. When I finally slid into the Mercedes, I pulled my mobile back out, praying I would find another message informing me that this was all some ill-conceived joke. But there was nothing waiting for me, which meant if I wanted answers, there was only one place to go. Buckling up, I braced myself for the ride ahead.
“I thought I was the one with the twisted sense of humor,” Georgia said as she entered her office and found me staring at the security feed for Velvet’s outer door.
“There’s nothing funny about this.” I didn’t take my eyes from the screen. Part of me still hoped Belle would make another choice. But she hadn’t called me. She hadn’t questioned my message. And that meant she was on her way.
“What exactly is your plan?” Georgia asked. “I know she hates this place, but I’ve seen it in her big doe eyes. She likes it rough. What if she shows up expecting you to tie her up?”
“Belle has no interest in anything this place has to offer.” She’d made that clear after her first—and only—visit here. It was a sentiment we shared. The only thing I found more sickening than finding myself back inside the club was knowing that I had lured Belle here as well.
Georgia moved next to me, adjusting the ties of her revealing corset and leaving me eye level with her exposed tits. “If you aren’t willing to give her a good whipping, I would be happy to.”
She fingered the petite cat-o-nine tails sitting on her desk for emphasis.
“No one touches her,” I growled.
“You’re adorable when you’re acting like a caveman.” Georgia smirked and picked up the whip. “Need to let out some of that pent-up hostility?”
We hadn’t scened together in years. It disgusted me now to recall how far she pushed me to go each time. Georgia wasn’t truly happy until she was nearly broken. With most people she put on a brave face. She’d only ever begged me to hurt her more. Between that and the absolute lack of sexual chemistry between us, it had always been a one-sided experience.
Hammond had ruined my life, but he’d twisted her into a creature incapable of feeling anything outside of pain.
“I’m not interested.” I pushed the proffered whip away.
Her coy grin vanished into haughtiness. She could see that I pitied her.
“Submission isn’t about sex,” she spit out at me. “Or have you forgotten that?”
I hadn’t. I knew exactly how it worked. “I’m not in the lifestyle, Georgia. Not anymore.”
“Bloody hell, you aren’t,” she challenged me. “I saw how she watched the members the night she came here. You’ve collared her.”
“You can’t collar Belle.” The idea was laughable. Collaring a submissive and leashing a wanton woman were two very different things. Belle responded to kink. She welcomed it, but that went no further than sex—for either of us.
“Well, aren’t you the enlightened, sensitive male.” Georgia screwed her delicate features into a grimace.
It didn’t matter what she thought. The truth was that it would be much easier if I could count on Belle to be obedient, but I didn’t want her that way. Yes, I wanted to collar her and tie her up and fuck her until she couldn’t walk. But in the morning I wanted to hear everything that came out of her smart, sexy mouth.
“That’s where you screwed up,” Georgia said as if she was psychic. “You let it get emotional.”
I stood, tired of watching the security feed. “It should also b
e emotional, G. That’s why you’re screwed up.”
Leaving her to chew on that, I made my way to the bar and ordered a Scotch from the club’s newest bartender.
“You giving a demonstration tonight?” Ariel asked.
I smiled tightly and shook my head. “I’m sitting out tonight.”
“That’s too bad.” She leaned over the bar top conspiratorially. “I’ve heard about you. I was hoping to see you in action.”
“I can’t imagine what you’ve heard, because this isn’t really my scene anymore.” I swallowed the rest of my drink and ordered another.
“People say you’re cold. Ruthless. That you push your subject to the edge, but that no one ever safes out.”
I didn’t like to remember that part of myself. Taking a swig of my refill, I realized that if I was going to accomplish the task I’d been given, it might be my only choice. I had a decision to make. I needed this to be a clean break. I needed her to never want to look at me again. It was the only way to ensure Hammond would lose interest in her. Setting down my tumbler, I unbuttoned my shirt.
“Are there any subs here tonight?” I asked Ariel.
“That would be me,” Georgia called from the doorway. “The rest are collared and their Masters aren’t sharing.”
I slid my shirt off, annoyed that she was my only option. But if I had to choose between taking a trip down fucking memory lane with her and Belle’s safety, I knew where I stood.
“Any preferences?” I asked her.
“The prayer stool.”
Of course, it was always at the top of her list. That was Georgia. She sought absolution through pain and found salvation in sin. “I’m using the cane.”
“Dom’s choice.” But I could tell she was satisfied.
We crossed in silence to the corner of the room where the stool waited. Georgia knelt down, folding her hands in front of her.
“Is the pageantry necessary?” I asked as I lifted her skirt to reveal her bare ass.
“It is for me. I know exactly what you’re doing,” she whispered, “but if I’m going to put on a show, it’s going to be a good one. By the way, your pet is here.”
