by Dinah McLeod
I felt my pulse tapping a frantic tattoo in my throat as Brandon lowered his mouth down to it. Seeing his lips part, I leaned my head back, surrendering myself to whatever he would do. His kisses started out sweet and gentle, but as he worked his way down, pulling the straps of my dress off my shoulders, they were more fevered. He nibbled on my shoulders and bit down on my collarbone.
"Oh!" I cried out, surprised that something I'd thought of as painful could actually be pleasurable. Spurred on by my excitement, he bit down harder, making me gasp.
"You taste so sweet—like honey."
"It must be the new body wash," I teased, but soon I was too distracted to offer jokes. Inch by inch, Brandon covered my skin in his caresses, licking and nibbling wherever pleased him.
When he said, "Sit up. I'm going to unzip you," I'd never moved so fast. I bolted up, straining at the ropes and panting with excitement. I shivered when I felt his fingers on my zipper. Brandon chuckled low in his throat. "Such a good girl now, aren't you, Karen? You just needed a little taste of the hairbrush, and now look at you: a brand new woman."
I groaned at the reminder of the dreaded implement, but soon, his lips worked on my stiff, hard nipples, giving me an altogether new reason to moan. As his cool, sweet mouth was on my nipple, his arm snaked around my waist, pulling me up. The movement made the rope strain, and it chaffed at my wrists. The amazing thing was that it only seemed to heighten my pleasure.
He traded the right nipple for the left and gave it the same ardent attention. He flicked his tongue over my aching nipple, teasing me. When I opened my eyes to peer at him I saw that he was watching me, his blue eyes dancing devilishly.
"Stop torturing me," I begged.
"I'm not ready to stop," he replied easily. "Not by a long shot."
"I need you," I whimpered. "Please, Sir."
"Would my naughty little girl like some more? Very well." When he lowered his head to my erect peak, he took in his mouth with gusto, sucking it hard.
I wanted desperately to grasp handfuls of the bedspread and cling to him, but my hands dangled uselessly. It was added torture. As he bit into my flesh, I arched my back, whimpering. I'd never been made love to like this. All of my earlier sexual exploits had rarely included foreplay, and I was usually on top. In control, where I belonged. Having to submit to whatever he wanted to do was a kind of delightful torture that I'd never imagined.
"When is it my turn?" I asked, mewling as he bit down hard and sat back to lick the hurt he'd caused. It was exquisite.
"You're not getting bored, are you? Well, I'll just have to fix that." Before I could protest, he whipped my dress off me. I shivered when the cool air kissed my skin. "Don't worry, I'm going to warm you up. That's a promise." He fell on me with renewed vigor, kissing me until I melted into a puddle and then teasing my skin with his teeth until I formed back together, into a woman who let herself be tied up and purred with pleasure at the thought.
He kissed my thighs with such intensity that I thought I could die in that moment and be perfectly happy. I wasn't prepared for what I'd feel when he finally turned to my hot, glistening pussy. The moment he entered me with his tongue, I felt heat shoot in waves throughout my body—just as he'd promised. He lapped up my wetness in a way that made me breathless. Just when I thought I was on the brink of an orgasm, he stopped and sat up.
My eyes snapped open and I looked at him, blinking in confusion. "Wha..."
"You're new at this," he reminded me. "I should take those off before they hurt you." He nodded at my restraints. I was silent as he untied me, feeling so vulnerable and hot for him all at once. "Besides," he added, with a wicked grin, "I don't ever give orgasms on the first date."
I stared at him in shock but the sparkling in his eyes made me laugh. "This is what you call a date?"
***
"Have a seat," Brandon encouraged when I walked into the kitchen. I had taken a shower at his suggestion, and without any clothes with me, I just stayed in the towel. For all the notice he seemed to take. The brute just turned back to the stove, whistling as he cooked. The nerve of him! First, he denied me an orgasm and now he pretended I was just company joining him for a meal?
Maybe I had misread the signs, I thought suddenly. I bit down on my lip, hard, as I sat down. Had I? Was there any way I could be confused? He had taken me from ecstasy to vulnerability and back again before he suddenly stopped. Was it possible that he had changed his mind? That he didn't like me that way? Maybe my body repulsed him. I was used to feeling so confident that the doubt shook me to the core. I had never wanted someone so much and the thought that he might not feel the same way horrified me in a way I'd never experienced. It also made me very mad. What was he keeping me here for, then?
Suddenly, I stood to my feet, determined to put an end to this. I couldn't play such a twisted game, not when I liked him so much. "I think it's time I get going, Brandon. Thank you for the wine, and—"
He didn't even turn around to look at me. "Sit back down, Karen. I told you that you need to eat and that's what you're going to do."
I scowled at his back. His firm, muscled back. "I'm not hungry." At that exact moment, my stomach decided to rumble, betraying me to the enemy.
"I see. Well, while that is unfortunate, it doesn't change what I said. Now sit."
I felt like my feet were glued to the floor and I stood there frozen with indecision. I wanted to storm out of the room and show him that he couldn't toy with me. But I didn't want to stop being with him, I certainly didn't want to stop looking at him. I don't know how long I stood there before he turned to face me. With just one raised eyebrow, he had my heart thudding hard in my chest.
“What is it?” he asked, the spatula raised mid-air as he waited expectantly.
“Nothing, just I—I think I should leave. I mean, I am. Leaving.”
For a minute, I thought he would laugh and I wanted to kick myself. Once upon a time, I could have a roomful of board members hanging on my every word. Those days seemed far behind me right at that moment. What he actually did was set the spatula down, turn down the heat and walk toward me.
“Do you want to leave?” He held up a hand even as my lips parted. “And before you can lie to me, I’ll just say that I know you don’t.”
“How can you know that?” I’d meant the words to sound scathing, but instead they sounded throaty, betraying the fact I was on the verge of crying.
“All I have to do is look at you. Now, what is this about?”
I hesitated only for a second before the devil on my shoulder spurred me on. I rose my chin defiantly and let my eyes meet his. He looked so calm, so authoritative and strong. God, even the sweet, woody scent of him seemed to exemplify his commanding presence. I locked eyes with him and this time I didn’t look away, I didn’t move a muscle when I untied my towel and let it drop to the floor.
***
Brandon
Outwardly, I kept my expression neutral, but it took every ounce of self-control I possessed. I clenched my fists into balls at my sides, grateful that she was on the other side of the counter and couldn’t see them. I hated the doubt I saw in her big, luminous brown eyes. How could she think for a moment that I didn’t want her? How had I managed to hide the fact my heart was pounding inside my chest like a wild beast struggling to break free of its cage? The blood was coursing through my body like liquid fire until I was nearly burning up from the inside with my own desire.
I suppressed a groan and tried to tear my eyes away from her delicious curves. I’d had my fair share of women, but none of them had made my hair stand on end like this one. She made everything stand, come to think of it; I hadn’t had such a raging hard-on since I’d started discovering women as I hid down in the basement with a stolen Playboy in hand. Those models seemed like colorless stick figures compared to the woman in front of me. As hard as I tried not to, I couldn’t help but take in every smooth, firm contour. I let my eyes wander from her long, beautiful neck, down to her perky b
reasts, her large, succulent nipples standing at attention. I’d seen every perfect, mouth-watering inch of her only minutes earlier, but I still found myself hungry for the sight of her delectable body. Her slim, toned waist led in to a full, perfectly round ass that only emphasized her incredible figure.
My eyes devoured her inch by inch, but I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied until I’d tasted the sweetness of her skin again and sampled her sweet juices with my head between her thighs. My greatest wish at that moment was to pull her into my arms and crush her with my hot, pulsing need. Too bad my birthday wasn’t until next month—not that I thought I could wait that long. If all it took was blowing out a couple candles, I’d do it then and there, so long as it meant she’d end up in my bed.
Not yet, I reminded myself. Not just yet. With tortured reluctance, I forced my eyes away from her rocking body. I couldn’t take even another moment of having her so close and not being able to indulge. “Go upstairs and put some clothes on, Karen.”
Her eyes widened and I watched as they darkened with pain—hurt that I had put there. “What? But—”
“Now, please.”
The injured look she gave me vanished, dissolving in the wake of her anger. Though I’d never tell her, I loved it when her eyes flashed at me like that. I loved how her nostrils flared slightly, how anger made her cheeks flush. It made her look even sexier, if that was humanly possible.
“You know, you’re right. Wouldn’t want to scare the neighbors. I’ll just be on my way.” She whirled around, but I took a step forward, catching her wrist easily. She jerked it away from me and spun around to face me, her eyes shooting daggers. “Don’t touch me,” she hissed through gritted teeth.
“You shouldn’t say things you obviously don’t mean.” Damn, I hated the uncertainty in her eyes. Even though she could stand to learn some manners, I liked her fiery spirit. I liked that she spoke her mind—just not the sharp tongue she used to do it.
“Fuck you,” she snapped, and if her voice caught a little bit, the way she glowered at me with enough venom made up for it.
She could switch so fluidly from being a girl whom I felt needed my protection into an outright brat. What I wasn’t prepared for was the fact that I wanted to protect her either way. I was going to have to be very careful with this one. “Karen, let’s—”
“I said fuck you!” she interrupted shrilly. “You don’t even know me, you don’t get to tell me what I want. You’re a…a—”
“Enough,” I told her, so firmly that she stopped, spluttering. “I can see that you’re upset, but that doesn’t give you any right to behave like this. This is your last chance to go upstairs and get dressed.”
Her eyes narrowed into slits and before I knew it, she flew at me, her hand raised. I caught her wrist deftly and held it tight. “Let me go!” she snapped, stamping her foot like an enraged toddler. “You don’t have a right to—”
“I don’t?” I challenged, boring my eyes into hers until she looked away.
“No, you don’t.” She didn’t sound very convinced and for that matter, neither did I.
“You really need to think about what it is you want, Karen. We talked about this, we made rules and you agreed to them. So I’m going to give you some time to think about it.” When she raised her eyes to my face I could already see that she was subdued. “I want you to go face the wall until I say otherwise.” Her lips parted, and I thought she might protest, but in the end she did what she was told—and I found myself exhaling breath I hadn’t known was trapped inside me. “Now put your arms over your head.” She hesitated for a moment before putting her arms over her head.
I stood there for a moment and let my eyes wander down the toned muscles off her back to her tight ass that was still a bit pink from her earlier paddling. The only thing that would make the visual even better was if it was nice and red, but I’d see to that soon enough. Walking to the kitchen I began to rifle through my cabinets for something edible—I doubt she wanted stale popcorn or Chef Boyardee—glancing back at her every now and again to make sure she didn’t drop her arms or turn around. I had to admit, I was pleasantly surprised by her obedience.
What was her deal? I wondered as I heated water for pasta. She could go from being sweet and submissive to spit-fire mad quicker than any woman I’d ever known. Yet, there was something else there too: a vulnerability that I’d only glimpsed once. I found it highly unlikely that she’d ever let me see it again. That, combined with the submissive side I’d seen within her was more than enough to keep me interested.
I’d had plenty of girls in my life. I’d spanked most of them—even if just for fun—and tied up one or two, but not one of them had come close to enjoying it. The fact Karen had come here when she didn’t have to, seeking and expecting a spanking said more about her than she would ever realize. She’d hadn’t just slapped me and called me an asshole. Instead she stood with her beautiful backside to me, which gave me hope. She definitely had potential and seeing her standing on the brink of giving in to her submissive side made me want to lend a hand.
After the water had come to a boil, I dumped the package of spaghetti into the pot and turned the heat down before returning to the living room. “Did you have some time to think?”
When she swiveled around to face me, her hands still held above her head, her eyes glittering with unshed tears, my heart caught in my throat.
“Yes, Sir.”
I cleared my throat, struggling to regain my composer. I wasn’t supposed to feel like this; I was supposed to be in control here and suddenly I wondered. “You can relax,” I told her, my voice more gruff than I’d intended. As she dropped her arms I caught sight of the goose bumps prickling her pretty flesh. Man, oh man. All I wanted was to pull her close to me, warming her body with mine to chase the chill away. “What did you think about?”
“I shouldn’t have lost my temper.”
“And?”
“And…” She took a deep breath before giving me a determined smile. “I thought about what you said, about what I want.”
“Yes?”
“Well…” She dropped her eyes demurely, “I’m still here, aren’t I?”
“I need to hear you say it.”
Her cheeks flushed and my cock surged at the sight of her blush. “I want this. I want… you. All of it.”
“Then you’re going to have to follow the rules. You know, the ones we talked about not even two hours ago?”
“Yes, Sir. I know, Sir.”
I swallowed hard—I’d always seen submission as a gift, but this… from this strong-willed, beautiful woman, it was priceless beyond measure. I really needed her to get some clothes on. “Go get dressed, please.”
This time, there was no arguing, no pouting. She gave me the smallest of smiles before walking past me to the bedroom and it took an act of God for me to hold firm and not follow her. Instead, I went back to the kitchen and checked on the pasta. It looked done, so I drained it and put some butter in a skillet, melting it before I added chopped onion and garlic to the pan. The last girl I’d dated had been a sous chef and taught me how to at least make spaghetti.
Ever since I’d started having sex with something other than my hand, I’d had a rule: no one night stands. It just wasn’t my scene, for one thing, but for another I found that despite the clichés, I tended to put a lot of myself into relationships. Why waste the energy for someone who, at the end of the day, was hoping to slink away in the middle of the night and never see me again? The easiest way to avoid that kind of disappointment was to avoid chicks that just wanted to hook up for the evening, and so far, I’d never broken my rule. If a woman was really interested, she’d still be interested a week later. At least, that was my philosophy.
It had worked quite well for me so far, before Karen came along and made me question things I thought I knew. Besides, not only did it help me avoid awkward run-ins at the supermarket, it also reinforced that I was in charge. Anything to remind her of that fact couldn’
t hurt.
When Karen came back into the room, she was back in her slim-fitting, tight black dress with white polka dots on the skirt. It made her look demurely girlish, and I loved it, almost as much as the fact she’d worn a dress because I had told her to. I could see that she’d visited the bathroom before coming back; her black hair had been brushed back into place and it looked like she’d washed her face, too. Probably to get rid of the redness under her eyes.
“Hello.”
“Come eat,” I invited, extending my hand. She stepped forward and took it—an electric current seemed to jolt through me when her fingers met mine. I jerked my hand back in surprise and Karen met my eyes, smiling knowingly as she slid her hand back over mine. So she felt it too, then.
“What are we having, Sir?”
“Ah, um, spaghetti.” I led her to the dining room and pulled out a chair for her. She sat easily, swinging her right leg over her left, making me groan inwardly. I had to wonder if the woman had any idea how sexy she was. “I’ll be right back.”
It didn’t take long to toss a loaf of garlic bread into the oven—it was only slightly black on top, a vast improvement from my other attempts—and hurriedly prepare a salad. In no time I had two steaming plates of food in front of us and I sat down to eat.
“No more wine?” she asked with a smile.
“There is. Do you want some?”
She was on her feet before I could push my chair back. “I’ll get it.”
I watched her back as she walked toward the kitchen, her hips swaying to music only she heard. Damn. I took a big gulp of water and wondered at the wisdom of adding more alcohol to my bloodstream. I wasn’t a lightweight by any means, but I worried that it might impair my already impaired judgment. Still, when she came back with clean glasses and the second bottle, I thanked her and poured for us.
“It really is delicious,” she commented, savoring the sip she’d taken. “Are you good at everything you do?”
I looked at her, my face serious, and she must have mistaken my expression because she quickly added, “Sir.”
