Behind me, I felt Lucy press against my back, her hands sliding up my arms and gripping my biceps. “Do you need to see how it looks? With someone bent over it?”
Well, hello cock. I became immediately hard at her question and quirked a brow. “Are you offering?”
She adjusted her glasses and shrugged noncommittally. “If it’ll help you prep tomorrow’s shoot, I don’t mind. It can’t be any worse than what Ben had us do as stand-ins Sunday.”
I spun to face her and noted the way her breasts hitched with her sharp breath. “Tell me what’s changed?” I demanded. She had my cock hard. My lust for her flaring, but I could walk away if she gave me no choice. If she didn’t answer me honestly. “Why are you suddenly willing to offer yourself to me at work when hours ago you were vehemently against it?”
Her jaw tightened and she blinked behind those glasses. “Let me ask you a question in return… would you rather go back to your house?”
I sucked in a sharp breath, pain slicing behind my breastbone, and winced at the question.
When I didn’t answer, her eyebrows jumped higher. “How about my apartment? Would you like to go back there?”
Fuck. Fuck me. I hadn’t told her why her apartment—Brie’s apartment—was so painful, too.
“That’s what I thought,” she whispered. “So, if we aren’t going back to your house. And we aren’t going to my house. And LnS needs time to process my contracts … that doesn’t leave a lot of options. Unless you want to give it a try in my car?”
I barked a laugh. “You mean your tin can?” That was definitely out of the question. But despite the moment of humor, I knew this was it. I needed to cut her out of my life. Like a cancer, I needed to amputate myself from her because I would destroy her. Even though I didn’t want to. Even if I never intended to hurt her, I knew I would.
“Lucy,” I said, my voice tight. “If I fuck you, it’s not going to be tender. I’m not sweet. I’m—”
“I know. I’ve never had much of a sweet tooth anyway.”
I tilted my head at her. We both knew that was a bold-faced lie. I’d only known her a few days, but Luciana Rodriguez loved her desserts and the fact that she was claiming otherwise deserved a punishment for lying.
She pushed onto her toes and brushed her lips lightly across mine, setting my nerves on fire. I slid my hands down her back, gripping her ass tightly in my palms. “Liar,” I said against her mouth and gave her a playful smack on the ass.
Her grin widened. “Just wanted to see if you were paying attention.”
Oh, I was paying attention alright. To everything from her flushed cheeks, to her pebbled nipples, to the way her voice quivered when she was excited and her knees locked when she was nervous. Her body was like a foreign language and I was an astute student, becoming fluent in it.
I wanted her. I wanted her so badly. All the more reason I shouldn’t let myself have her. It was torture. “We can’t,” I said, stepping back. Her hands slid away from me, skimming over the bare skin at my arms as I stepped back.
“What?” she snapped. “Why?”
“I can’t until you sign that consent contract,” I said. There weren’t a lot of things I was responsible about, but this? This I had to be. I was already fucking this whole thing up royally. I couldn’t put us both at risk like this. I’m the fucking Dom. I need to be the one to guide her through the proper steps. And because we work together? I couldn’t be with her again until she agreed to sign. Especially not in our actual work place.
She sighed, licking her plump lips with a quick swipe of her tongue. “It’s that important to you?”
I nodded. “It should be to you, too.”
Her eyes fluttered closed, masking their rich brown color briefly. “Okay,” she said.
My heart skipped. “Okay?”
“Yeah. Okay. I’ll sign. But, I don’t want to file the paperwork yet. I’ll hold onto my copy. You hold onto yours. I don’t want you showing it to anyone here at the Studio. But I’ll sign.”
I breathed a heavy sigh of relief.
“Where are the papers?”
Fuck. “In my office.”
She gave another sly smile. “Well, could we maybe, just maybe, sign them… after? We’re talking the difference of, what, fifteen minutes?”
“Fifteen minutes?” I growled. “Woman, I don’t know who you think I am?” Fifteen minutes, my ass.
She beamed at me. Teasing. She was teasing me. Oh, Shorty. You are going to pay for that one. “No one else is here on the soundstage, are they?”
I shook my head. “They’re not.” I diverted myself, rushing for the only door to the studio and locked it, flipping on the In Use light outside that signaled for no one to enter. Not that they could enter with the door locked. But it didn’t hurt to be extra cautious. I could feel myself darkening with the room as I flipped off the lights, leaving only the blue work light. “Clothes off,” I demanded, my voice rough and graveled.
She stared at me as she slowly shed her t-shirt, and popped the button of her jeans. Slowly. Painfully slowly, she kicked off one flip-flop. Then the other. I loved making a woman strip for me. Loved the power of making her shed each layer of clothing for my eyes and my enjoyment. Most women I was with didn’t try to hide their bodies or shy away from me like Lucy did. She was naked, holding her shirt over her half-naked body as though the little strip of cotton could protect her.
“Strip faster,” I growled, and in only a few steps I stood in front of her, pressing her back into the newly draped paddle bench. She gasped as her ass connected with it and shimmied out of her jeans and bra faster than before.
Once naked, she stood there waiting.
Nervous. She ran her hands up and down her goose-pebbled arms even though it wasn’t very cold in the studio. “Ash,” she said quietly. I tilted my head. “Don’t hold back,” she whispered.
Holy fucking shit. Excitement skittered through my body. Three little words that had my heart pounding and my body sweating with anticipation. “You don’t mean that,” I growled. “You don’t know what you’re saying.”
“I do,” she said. “I—I have my safewords. And I feel like I’ve been dabbling in this. I dipped my toe in with you last night, but … I need to know. We need to know if we’re wasting time here. So… give it to me. Show me what the hell you mean when you say there’s pleasure in the punishment.”
My pulse spiked, kicking faster against my ribcage and my cock was so fucking hard. I wanted to sink deep inside of her. Wanted to swallow her whimpers of pain and let them water my seeds of despair.
“You’re not ready.”
“I am. Or at least, ready as I’ll ever be. Ash… I find myself doing things simply so that you’ll punish me. I stormed into your office knowing it would result in something deliciously bad tonight. Why do I do that?”
I walked forward, closing what little space was left between us. “You crave the punishments,” I whispered. She nodded even though it wasn’t really a question. “You want pain?”
“I-I think so,” she stuttered.
“What are your safewords?” I asked. Shit, my voice was rough. Like a body being dragged through gravel.
Her eyes widened. “You-you don’t remember?”
I wrapped her hair around my fist and with a sharp tug, yanked her head back. “I’m not asking you to repeat them for my benefit, Shorty. It’s because sometimes in the moment, submissives can forget their own safewords. So I want you to repeat them. Right now for me.”
Her wide eyes softened in acknowledgment. “Oh. Red,” she said.
“Is that your only safeword?”
“And… yellow.”
“Green for yes. Red for stop. Yellow for slow down,” I said for her, coaxing her to repeat it with me. She did, her words fast, anticipation thick in her voice. “Keep going,” I urged her. “Keep repeating them. And don’t you dare come.”
As she did, I lowered my mouth to her neck, sucking and nibbling over her silky alab
aster skin. As I reached her nipple, she gasped, arching her breast against my tongue. I was met with silence and I tore my mouth from where it was latched to her nipple. “I don’t hear you,” I growled.
“R-red for stop. Green for yes. Yellow for slow down.”
Better. I licked down her ribs and dipped my tongue into her belly button, her soft stomach trembling with a shattered breath. Her words tripped over one another, but she kept repeating them like a good girl.
Then, my tongue found her clit and I lapped at her. She was wet and creamy, so fucking ready for me already. Like ripe fruit ready to be bitten, and I devoured her, taking her hard swollen clit gently between my teeth, and running my tongue along it as I held it firmly in place.
Her hips bucked, her knees trembling, and I heard a loud sound above me as her hands fell to the paddle bench for support. But she continued repeating her safewords.
I stabbed my tongue inside of her and her pussy rippled around me, squeezing and tightening, but not coming. Not yet.
I slid my tongue south, my fingers digging brutally into her ass cheeks and I spread her wide for me, running my tongue over her tight pucker. Fuck how I wanted that ass. But not tonight.
“Ash—” she cried.
I stopped immediately and stood, glaring at her. I could feel a different man taking hold of my body. My emotions. I wasn’t Ash, her director right now. I was Ash, her Dominant. And my name was not her fucking safeword.
I stepped back, and examined her. Her pussy was now visibly wet. Glistening and juicy and pink. I’d never seen anything so magnificently sexy in my life.
I looked down at her, sweat beginning to dot along her forehead. She licked her glistening upper lip and swallowed hard. When she opened her mouth to speak, I lifted my finger, pressing it to her bare lips. “Nuh-uh,” I said. “Not a word.”
She dipped her chin down and I smiled triumphantly. Yes, Shorty. Just like that. Eyes cast down. It only lasted a moment before she resumed looking me in the eye again. Her weight shifted nervously from one foot to the other and she crossed her arms to cover her exposed breasts.
Again, I made a noise, clicking my tongue in disappointment. “Drop those hands or I tie them down.”
“Christ,” she muttered, and lowered her hands to her sides.
“Sir will suffice.”
She snorted. “I knew you had an ego… I didn’t realize you had a God complex.”
My mouth twitched. Oh, she was going to pay for that. For that, for storming into my office earlier. She was going to regret all of those mistakes. And she was going to love every minute of it.
My hands flew to her waist, spinning her to face the bench. Her back was to me as I grabbed her hands, tying each up with the silk scarf. “I didn’t move my hands!” she cried in protest. I secured her other wrist as well and narrowed my gaze as she continued complaining about the injustice. As if this isn’t exactly what she fucking wanted. She knew it. I knew it. It was time she admitted it.
Her arms were outstretched to each side, her breasts high on her chest, nipples tight little furls just begging to be licked and sucked. But not yet. That was earned. And my little Shorty hadn’t even come close to earning that yet.
Her belly pressed against the bench, back arched, curvy ass in the air. I circled to the front of the bench so I could face her.
I left her there, arms outstretched, restrained. “I want to kiss you,” she stated after several minutes had passed.
My hands clenched. She was defiant. Almost as defiant as Brie had been. But Brie hadn’t been defiant because she didn’t know the rules—it was because she enjoyed breaking them. We had both enjoyed the punishments. We’d enjoyed them so much, that when we were married, they could no longer be considered punishments, but rather, became our rewards.
I leaned in closely to Lucy, narrowing my gaze. Her brown eyes were smoldering—I’d never seen eyes so expressive in my life. I teased her, my lips so close to hers that all she had to do was crane her neck forward and she could have taken them in that kiss she so badly wanted. I flicked out my tongue, licking her bottom lip gently and when she opened her mouth to kiss me back, I shook my head. “Don’t you dare,” I whispered. “Or do I have to add a ballgag to those restraints?”
She swallowed visibly hard, her gaze growing a darker, richer brown, if that was even possible. “Maybe you do,” she whispered back.
I smirked. God, I loved that spark in her. And as soon as the thought entered my mind, my muscles seized. I loved that spark in her? Am I moron? I don’t love her. I can’t love her. But before I could finish that train of thought, she pushed forward on her toes, leaning over the bench and kissed me hard.
I’ve kissed a lot of women in my life. Some good, some bad, some desperate, some disinterested. None of them compared to Brie.
Until now.
Chapter Eighteen
Ash
Her lips crashed onto mine. They were sweet—literally sweet, like she had dipped them in sugar or maple syrup. How the fuck did she manage that? And even though we had kissed before—more than once. This felt different.
Her lips moved over mine, hungry and wet and delicious, and she parted those sugar-coated lips, plunging her tongue in my mouth aggressively. My hands flew to her jaw, clutching her desperately, grasping her and cursing the fucking paddle bench as my hard cock rammed into it rather than between her legs.
I was desperate for more. Which was fucked. The whole thing was fucked. I told her to put her hands at her side. She didn’t. I told her no talking. But that didn’t stop her. I told her no kissing. And here I was devouring her tongue in my mouth. And fucking loving it.
If any other sub had kissed me like this without permission, there’d be no way in hell I’d be kissing her back. Clutching at her jaw and hair. Rewarding her bad behavior.
What was wrong with me?
Because that’s just what this was.
It was fucking wrong.
No one kissed me like this. No one but Brie.
Pain seared behind my ribs and I tore my mouth from hers, letting out a ferocious growl. I was trembling everywhere—from my shoulders to my knees. She stared at me from behind her askew eyeglasses, licking her kiss-swollen lips.
“Don’t you look at me,” I snapped, and circled around behind her.
“I—”
“Eyes down. Mouth shut.”
Her neck snapped forward, her eyes angled to the bench.
She said she wanted it rough. She was going to get it. She was going to receive the punishment she both deserved and was asking for. “Lean over the bench, all the way. Put all your weight on your belly.” She did as I said, putting that perfect creamy ass right at my hand level. Fuck. Yes.
That’s what this is about. Carnal pleasure. Fucking. Her tits. Her ass. Her pussy. Not her heart. Not her eyes. I swallowed hard, the aching pang still resonating behind my breastbone. “You know what you did, right?” I asked, my voice dangerously low.
“Y-yes.”
Smack. My hand connected hard to her ass and she yelped. Her yelp of pain released something inside of me. A small bit of air escaping the pressure valve of my broken heart. “Yes, what?”
I could only see the slight outline of her face from profile. The edge of her eyeglasses. The corner of her mouth she was nibbling. Her dark hair brushed the middle of her back as she shook her head no. “Just yes,” she said.
Still not calling me Sir. My pain turned to anger. “Fine,” I hissed. “But you know what this is punishment for?”
She nodded, the movement tight and sharp, bouncing her whole body with it. “Good. Normally, I’d use a paddle. You’re getting off easily since I don’t have any of my toys with me.”
I paused, letting that sink in. I could still deliver a serious hit with the palm of my hand. When she said nothing in response, I continued. “The only words you are allowed to say are safewords—red, yellow, and green. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice squ
eaky.
I ran a finger over Brie’s ring, loneliness and guilt knotting in my gut. I needed this pain to go away. I needed it to recede into a dull wispy memory. I needed Lucy to sign the contracts. Call me Sir. And I needed her to officially accept submission so that I could be free of the hold she had on me.
I needed to fuck Lucy. Just fuck. And prove to myself that that’s all she was. She was just another lay. Like any other sub.
That. Is. All.
I swallowed against the dry knot at the back of my throat, pulled my hand back and brought it down on her ass.
Lucy
That first hit stung like a bitch. Pain burned against my bare flesh and despite the fabrics I had draped over the paddling bench, the wooden edge bit into my stomach.
“What do you call me?” Ash pressed. His voice was tight, on edge. And the sound of it both scared and enthralled me.
He wanted me to call him Sir. I just… I couldn’t. Not yet. Maybe not ever. Wasn’t there another term? Another way?
I didn’t want to say it… so instead I said nothing.
The second hit came down harder than the first, snapping across my skin. I gulped in a breath of air and gasped.
“I asked you, what do you call me?” He said again.
“A-Ash,” I said. Only it was the wrong answer. We both knew it. He knew it, I knew it.
Another striking blow, this time on my upper thigh. Pain pulsed against my flesh and I could feel my skin heating, burning with each hit.
“Try again,” he said.
I swallowed as tears pushed through my clenched eyelids saturating the fabric draped on the bench. “Mr. Livingston,” I said, hoping that maybe it would be good enough.
Role Play (Silhouette Studios) Page 24
