by Dani René
“Good morning, Sir,” I taunt, allowing the sheet to fall, baring my breasts to his hungry stare. The corner of his mouth kicks up, one dark eyebrow arching in question. “I thought you had left,” I tell him, shifting onto my knees.
“I made breakfast, but I’d prefer eating in the kitchen,” he tells me.
Nodding, I rise from the bed to reach for the robe he set out last night.
“No. I want you naked,” he growls with a sinful smirk. Without any more words, he crooks his finger, calling me to him. I obey, following him out the door and down the hallway. The apartment looks so different with the sun streaming through the windows.
My soft footfalls mingle with his, and I can’t help grinning at how almost normal this feels. We’re like a couple, but not. We don’t go on dates, but he gives me pleasure in ways I couldn’t imagine. There’s no meeting the family, or even just a dinner with friends. It’s just us. And I realize I like it.
“What’s on your mind, Peyton?” he questions as I slip onto the cold bar stool at the breakfast bar in the center of the kitchen.
“Do you have family?” I question, realizing that’s too normal a question for him to answer. His brows crease in confusion at my question, which I must admit does sound strange. “I mean, we’ve not really spoken about our personal lives. But . . .”
“Yes, I have a brother and a sister,” he tells me as he sets a mug of steaming coffee in front of me. “My mother died when I was younger, but my dad is still alive.”
“Do they live close by?” I question once more, lifting the coffee to my mouth to take a long sip. The mocha roasted flavor hits my taste buds, and I moan in pleasure.
“England. I came here a few years ago,” Carrick tells me, turning to watch me for a moment. “What about you?” he asks, placing two plates filled with eggs, bacon, mushrooms, and toast between us, and he takes his seat opposite me.
“I have a brother, Chance. He’ll be here in a few days. It’s the longest we’ve ever been apart.” I smile, thinking about my brother. “My parents were killed in a car accident a few years ago.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.” Carrick’s cool demeanor changes when he looks at me again. His eyes hold affection, and I wonder if it’s because I just told him I lost my parents, or because he feels something more for me.
“So, do you like America? I guess you must since you’ve stayed for so long.” I lift the toast, biting into it. The scent of the food makes my stomach growl.
“I think you need to eat.” He points toward the plate and in effect shuts off the conversation. He doesn’t like talking about his past, or the woman who's no longer in his life, which only makes me more curious.
We eat in silence. The only sound is the clatter of the cutlery on the plates. My eyes snap to Carrick when he rises, but it’s only to grab the coffee pot and refill both our mugs. Once he sets it back on the warmer, he joins me once more.
I clear my plate and sit back to find his eyes on me. “What?” I ask, tipping my head to the side.
“I want to take you out. On a date.”
“I thought—”
“Peyton,” he starts, then sighs. His gaze drops to the mug as he twirls it on the marble counter. As if mesmerized by the movement, he talks to the mug instead of looking at me. “I didn’t plan to enjoy you or our time together as much as I do.”
“Well, I guess I didn’t expect to want to spend time with you either. Carrick, I’m not asking—”
His gaze flits to mine when he interrupts me. “I want to be with you, Peyton. But, this is new to me. It’s been a long time since I’ve been with someone I care about.”
His confession causes my heart to stutter then slam against my rib cage. He falls silent, and I wait, holding my breath to see what else he’s about to say, but he doesn’t continue. Instead, he rises and stalks toward me. Without a word, he lifts me effortlessly in his arms and walks us down the hall toward the bathroom.
He sets me down on the counter and turns on the shower. I watch as he shoves his sweats off and steps out of them. His taut ass is sexy as it leads down to his muscled thighs. When I drag my gaze up toward his face, I find him staring at me with amusement swimming in his golden orbs.
“Enjoying the view?” he questions mischievously. When he’s playful, there’s an innocence to him, like a little boy.
“Perhaps.” I giggle. Jumping off the counter, I step under the spray. I tilt my head to glance at him over my shoulder. “Are you joining me?”
“Perhaps.” He throws my response back at me with a chuckle.
Once we’re both in the shower, he shuts the glass door and picks up the body wash. Carefully, he squirts a handful onto the sponge and starts washing my back with the sweet-smelling liquid. His touch is gentle, almost loving compared to the way he normally would spank me. He moves down to my ass, then my legs. His hands come up, squeezing the cheeks of my backside, opening me to his stare.
I cast a glance down to where he’s kneeling and watch as he rinses the soap suds off. As soon as I’m clean, he teases the hole with his finger. The sensation causes my knees to buckle, and I’m clawing at the tiles when his tongue flicks over the forbidden entrance.
A moan slips from my mouth when he slowly pushes one digit into me, fingering my ass. He works it in and out, then another slips into me. Scissoring me open, he moves tentatively. My body trembles as sensations of pleasure and a hint of pain shoot through every inch of me.
“Rick,” I utter when his tongue laps at my pussy while he fingers my tight hole.
“Play with your clit, baby,” he murmurs, and I obey. My lower abdomen tightens and coils as I cry out in pleasure. I’m about to fall over the edge. Just at the precipice of desire, of my orgasm, when suddenly he stops.
He pulls his fingers from my body, and his tongue halts all movements.
“Stop touching yourself.” His order is swift, commanding, causing my hand to drop.
“What? Why?” I spin around, finding his feral stare burning a hole through me.
“We’re going to play a little game.” He smiles. He washes my front, then uses another body wash on himself, which reminds me of cinnamon and spice.
Once we’re both clean, he shuts off the taps and steps from the shower. I watch as he wraps a towel around his waist, then calls me to join him. My nipples harden in the chilly room, but he moves quickly to dry my body from head to toe.
“Place your hands on the counter and bend over,” he orders.
“Why?”
“Peyton, stop questioning me. Just do it.” His words aren’t harsh, but they leave no room for debate. Leaning over, I do as he says. He snaps the cap of a tube I notice is lube and drizzles enough over my ass to cause me to shiver. Then he picks up a silver butt plug with a pink diamond on the end and goes to work.
He’s gentle, working the metal plug into my ass. Pain and pleasure intermingle, making me grip the counter, almost clawing at it. Once it’s inside me, he rises and smirks at me in the mirror.
“You’ll wear that all day. We’ll head out for some lunch and shopping.”
“You want me to go out with this thing in my ass?” I retort, spinning around. I feel full. Strange. But not bad at all. Carrick reaches around, swatting my ass which has a yelp falling from my lips.
“It will be your second test.” He winks, stalking from the bathroom, leaving me gaping at his nonchalant smugness. Shaking my head, I follow him into the bedroom where he’s laid out a beautiful sundress the color of pink cotton candy.
“Where’s my underwear?” I question, lifting the dress and finding nothing else waiting for me.
“You won’t wear any. Don’t worry. I’ll be the only one who knows you’re naked underneath,” he tells me as he's pulling on a crisp blue shirt. I can’t drag my gaze away, watching him button it up. He’s perfect in every sense of the word.
“I can’t not wear panties, Carrick.” I sound frustrated. I’ve never gone commando, as they say, and with this th
ing in my ass, it feels even more embarrassing.
“You can, and you will, Kitten. Now get dressed. We’re going to be late.” With that, he stalks from the bedroom, leaving me sighing once more. This man is insufferable. Frustrating. But I still can’t help smiling at how easy it is to be with him.
When we stopped outside one of the boutique stores, I was too nervous to think about Carrick buying me anything. I’ve spent the past few years of my life working hard for my money, and frivolous shopping sprees were a thing of the past. But, he insisted, and now I’m standing in the dressing room with a beautiful, red, floor-length, silk dress.
The slit trailing its way up to my hip is kept together by red lace holding the cut down to my thigh, so if I do shift, or even turn too quickly, no one will get a glimpse of my pussy.
When I agreed to model the outfits for him, his eyes shimmered with a hungry fire that made me excited to do it, to allow him to command what I wear. It’s a strange feeling. Each time he orders me to do something, I initially want to offer a snarky retort, but it’s the affection he offers that makes me want to ensure I please him.
He looks at me like I’m a princess, and there’s nothing that will deter me from giving him the pleasure he deserves. I want him to smile at me the way he did when he found me kneeling on the floor for him. As soon as I rose, I met those beautiful eyes that look right through the shyness I hide behind, and I knew, the grin he gifted me was one I wanted to see on his face forever.
“Are you okay in there, Kitten?” His voice comes from the other side of the door, startling me.
“Yes, give me a second,” I call to him before taking one last glance in the mirror. My long blonde hair hangs in cascading waves down my back. The stiletto heels he chose to go with the dress give me a few extra inches, but even with them on, I’ll still be shorter than Carrick.
Unlocking the door, I step out into the private fitting area. There are three sofas adorning the space with mirrors surrounding us. He’s dressed in a light blue button up, with the cuffs rolled up to his elbows. A dark pair of slacks hug his muscled thighs and shiny black shoes adorn his feet. His hair is disheveled—sexy and messy. There’s a light dusting of stubble on his angular jaw making him look elegantly rough. The man is a contradiction in every way.
I stand, awaiting his perusal of my body. He doesn’t speak as his eyes sensually drag over me. He lifts a finger, twirling it around. I slowly take a turn, allowing him to see me from all angles.
“Fuck,” he utters once I’ve completed a three-sixty. “You’re exquisite. I’m tempted to rip that dress from your beautiful body right now.”
My mouth curls into a teasing smirk I know will only land me in trouble, but I can’t help enjoying the playfulness he’s exuding. “Oh really, Sir?” I quip playfully, popping my hip before I tease. “And may I remind you, I’m not wearing any panties under the dress.” My voice is a whisper, but I know he’s heard me when his stare turns molten.
“Come here, Kitten,” he bites out gruffly. I stroll over with confidence as his gaze simmers over my body. “Lift your dress, turn around, and bend at the waist,” he says but doesn’t make a move to rise or even touch me.
Easily, I lift the silk until it’s bunched up over my naked ass. When I bend over, I’m open to him. The plug is still snugly in the tight hole of my ass. I’m about to ask him what to do when a resounding swat lands on the right cheek, then the left, and echoes around us. He continues to assault my now burning ass until I’m whimpering and wet. My core slick with need for him.
“Stand. I want you to change so we can purchase this dress and the shoes, then I’m taking you home.”
He doesn’t need to tell me what’s going to happen when we get there. My mind can formulate my spanking was only the beginning.
13
Carrick
I’ve got a scene planned, but as soon as I pull up to the club, there’s a cab leaving. Then I realize my brother and sister may have just arrived. Early, no less.
“You’re about to meet the family, Kitten,” I utter, exiting the car. When I round the front, I find Peyton has already gotten out. “In future, I open your door. Do you understand me?”
“Yes, Sir,” she pipes up, saccharine sweet words that turn my blood to boil with desire. I can’t walk in there with a hard-on. “You do realize I’ve been able to open car doors for a long while now.” Her quip causes me to turn.
Regarding her through a narrowed gaze, I shake my head. My palm is itching to spank that sass from her pert ass, but I’ll have to reign it in for later. “In the past, you weren’t mine. Right now, you are, and I will care for you the way I want to. If you don’t like it, you’ll have to get over it,” I inform her while grabbing the bags from the trunk.
We silently make our way toward the entrance. Confidence rolls off her in waves, and I find myself in awe of her. She’s slight, a tiny pixie beside me. Her body has enough curve to be beautiful while arched, bound, and pleasured, and that’s my plan. Tonight, I’ll take her into my black room and bind her with the silk rope Mason brought in from Europe. I want to see how much she can take before she finally shatters from a non-sexual orgasm.
Unlocking the door, I allow her to enter first as I follow. Once it clicks shut behind us, I stalk behind her into the main area of the club to find Mason and my brother, Callan, and Cayleigh, my little sister, who’s no longer little sitting at the bar.
“Brother,” she squeals, bounding from the stool and into my arms. I didn’t realize how much I missed my family until I find them right here. Her body is hugged by a black tank top and tight jeans that cause my anger to flare like a beacon in the dark.
“What the fuck are you wearing, Leigh?” I hiss in her ear.
“I’m twenty-seven. You can’t tell me what to wear, Rick,” she admonishes me as if I’m the one who’s in trouble. I don’t need my little sister dressing like this, especially when she’s in this club. The men here will use her up, and that’s something I will not stand for.
“Like fuck I can't, Leigh,” I bite out when a hand tentatively touches my shoulder. My eyes fall to Peyton who’s looking at me like I’m wrong. “She’s my little sister,” I inform her.
“She’s old enough to know what she wants, Rick.” The soft voice of Peyton calms me, but I still feel the anger surging through me.
“Hi, I’m Leigh.” My sister holds out her hand to my . . . girlfriend? Submissive? Fuck, how do I introduce her.
“I’m Peyton. Your brother is showing me the ropes,” she says, causing Mason to chuckle in the background. Callan rises, stalks toward Peyton, and pulls her hand up to his mouth.
“I’m the handsome brother.” He winks salaciously, and I find myself wanting to punch him for touching her. She’s not mine. She’s not wearing my collar. Merely a student. But even as I think it, I know I’m lying to myself.
“Okay you two.” I shove my way through, shaking hands with Cal on the way toward the bar. “Where’s D?” I ask Mason.
“He’s headed out to grab the delivery. I figured I’d keep the O’Leary clan company until you two returned.” My best friend winks, downing his shot of whiskey before saluting a goodbye to us all.
He’s not one for crowds. He enjoys playing with Savvie and another girl, but if he’s not on stage, he’s a loner. Perhaps that’s why we always got along so well. The man is a solid foundation to my fucked-up existence at times. There’s something about him though, something he hides. It’s nothing to do with the business, but I know emotionally he’s closed himself off to marriage, and it intrigues me.
I’ve always been curious about people. Spending my time perceiving what I think others keep to themselves, I think that’s what made me so good at what I did. When I needed to infiltrate a group to retrieve information for Dad, I could do it without being noticed. I knew people. Read them.
With Peyton, I can’t fucking get into her mind.
“So, Rick,” Leigh says, dragging me from my memories. “Dad sai
d to give you a hug from him. He’s been busy with . . .” her words taper off as we all three glance at Peyton. She doesn’t know who I really am, which makes me nervous. I should tell her. It’s not fair that I’m lying to her when I want honesty from her.
“I’ll take the shopping up to the apartment,” she says, clearly feeling uncomfortable. She grabs the bags and heads to the stairs, but I can’t let her leave like that. Rushing after her, I place a hand on her arm, stopping her in her tracks.
“I’m sorry. I just . . . I thought I had time to tell you more about me before they arrived,” I tell her, imploring her with my gaze. It’s not an excuse. It’s the truth.
“It’s okay, Carrick. No personal details, remember?” she says with a smile, but it’s fake, plastered on to keep me calm. She tugs free of my hold, and I watch her ascend the stairs. I can’t stop her, can’t admonish her. It’s my rule. Stupidly, I thought I could be the one who’s aloof, but Peyton seems to have it down to a T.
“I’m sorry, Rick,” Leigh tells me when I turn back to the bar. Her big eyes are a deep hazel, shimmering with flecks of gold. “I didn’t realize she didn’t know, but then I—”
“It’s fine. She’s . . . I just haven’t told her.”
“Who is she, brother?” Callan questions, gulping his whiskey. His eyes are darker than both mine and Leigh’s. They’re a coffee color, and they seem to pierce me in that moment, digging into my mind to find out why there’s a woman who looks so much like Aurora in my apartment and club.
“I’m training her.”
“How exciting!” My sister bounces excitedly, but I don’t hold the same enthusiasm. I can’t. How can I when all I want is to feel something other than affection for Peyton? I wasn’t meant to care for her, but I find myself wanting her more than I ever thought possible.
