Hush Hush #2

by Anneliese Vandell

  Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  - 1

  - 2

  - 3

  - 4

  - 5

  - 6

  - 7

  - 8

  - 9

  - 10

  - 11

  - 12

  - 13

  - 14

  - 15

  - 16

  Coming June 4, 2015: Hush Hush #3

  Coming April 23, 2015: Meeting the New Mrs. Winters

  About the Author

  Join Anneliese's Newsletter

  Hush Hush #2

  By Anneliese Vandell

  Copyright © 2015 Anneliese Vandell. All rights reserved.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either’s products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Cover image credit: NAS CRETIVES/Shutterstock

  To Jared, forever and always.

  1

  “Look at me.”

  With some difficulty, I lift my eyes up to the focused expression etched onto Liam’s face. There’s a pinch in my neck as I crane my head upward. My bare breasts are pressed against the floor, my nose mere inches from the wood grain. My arms are outstretched before me, fingers fanned wide. Behind me, my bottom is raised in the air, legs spread, knees red against the hardwood floor.

  Liam’s frown seems to flicker as he takes in the sight of me—a trick of the candlelight, perhaps. Or maybe I’m not pleasing him.

  My back arches a little more sharply.

  His polished black oxfords begin to circle around me. I can feel Liam’s eyes sweeping over my naked body, lingering on my quivering sex. I try and remind myself that he’s seen me nude before, that I shouldn’t feel so self-conscious.

  But there’s something about this—something about being stared at so starkly, so entirely—that makes my skin twinge with anticipation. A warm, tingling sensation radiates from between my legs.

  “Now, tell me how you feel,” he commands.

  Excited. Naked. Nervous, I think to myself. And a little hungry. Our evening together had begun downstairs in the dining room, with a meal of seared steak topped with blue cheese-and-chive butter—which would have been delicious, I’m sure, if only I had been able to eat it. As I sputtered down my glass of cabernet and tried my best to ignore the excited butterflies in my stomach, my mind circled around one thing only: Liam’s mysterious sex room, where he promised we would begin our Friday evening with my first “training.”

  Training.

  Even here, outstretched on the floor, the word is still enough to send a thrill up my spine. I suck in a gulp of air and glance down at my trembling fingers.

  Snap!

  My body bucks against the leather whip as it comes down across my bottom. A hot, pricking sensation throbs beneath my skin.

  “Didn’t I tell you to look at me?” Liam says sternly. His tone is so intimidating—it sends another frisson of excitement shooting up my bare back.

  He continues: “And you haven’t answered my question.”

  Biting my lip, I look back up at him obediently. I murmur, “I feel fine.”

  Liam sighs and brings the whip down to his side, tapping it against his pant leg.

  “This isn’t going to work if you’re not honest with me, Sophia,” he says in a disappointed voice.

  I smile inwardly at the irony of his words—asking for honesty from a woman who doesn’t exist.

  “Stand up,” he commands.

  I leap to my feet. I spread out my legs so that they are square with my shoulders, just like he showed me at the beginning of our session, and cross my wrists behind my back. I lift myself a few inches into the air, balancing on the balls of my feet, to complete the pose.

  “Your hands are wrong. Palms out, not in,” he says, but the corner of his mouth twitches with approval nonetheless. His hands are strong yet gentle as he takes my wrists and rotates them outward, setting them into proper position.

  When he is satisfied with his work, he takes a step back and surveys me once more—but this time with a furrowed brow.

  “I’ll say it again,” he says. “Tell me how you feel.”

  My nipples harden beneath his gaze. Standing face to face like this only emphasizes my nakedness; he’s still buttoned up to the neck, wearing his steel-gray suit from the office. He hooks a finger into the knot of his tie, loosening it. His movements are slow and deliberate; as I watch his fingers move against his neck, a question forms on my lips.

  What is he going to do with me tonight?

  Here in this room, with all those toys mounted on the wall, he can play my body like a violin if he wants to—and I’ll let him.

  My heart begins to thump wildly. My skin is buzzing—but whether it’s from excitement or nervousness, I’m not sure. Both emotions seem to be coursing through me in equal measure, making my blood run hot. Making my lips tingle.

  Tap. Tap. Tap. I glance down. Liam is impatiently tapping the leather whip against his leg. He wants an answer to his question. My heart pounds faster.

  “I feel…a little timid,” I confess. “This is all just so new to me.”

  There’s a shimmering look in his pale blue eyes. “It’s all right to be nervous, Sophia. That’s why we do the training. To push the limits of your boundaries and see how far we can bend them. For example,” he says, taking a step toward me, “I can tell from your body language that you’re uncomfortable being naked.” He strokes his fingers against my breast, circling around my erect nipple. “But after enough sessions with me, I promise that you’ll prefer it.”

  I let out an involuntary gasp of breath as he flicks my nipple with his thumb. “Right.”

  Liam withdraws his hand. He looks at me with stern eyes. “But it’s essential for you to be open with me. About everything—whether we’re coming up against a hard limit of yours, or if you’re beginning to feel too uncomfortable to keep going. We won’t make any real progress together otherwise.”

  I nod.

  “And so if I ask you a question, I require an honest answer. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes, Liam,” I say obediently.

  He snaps a hand out and grabs me by the chin.

  “In this room, you are to address me as Sir,” he instructs. His touch is electrifying; as his fingers press more firmly against my skin, little lightning-zaps of excitement rush through me. “If you speak to me so informally again, you will be punished. Now tell me: do you understand?”

  “Yes, Sir,” I say with bated breath.

  “Good.” He releases my chin, but remains close to me.

  Despite his three-piece suit, I can feel the heat radiating off his body. There’s a kind of power emanating from him, a rippling confidence in the flick of his lips and the flexing muscle in his jaw.

  Standing mere inches away from him, soaking it all in—it’s intoxicating. Like taking forbidden sips from an expensive bottle of liquor.

  Still, it’s curious—during our trysts around the city, in the jazz club and on the steamboat and everywhere in between, I thought I was starting to get a handle on him. Starting to understand what made him tick. But now, as I tremble under his hungry, reckless
gaze, I realize that I’ve never met Liam. Not really. Not until now.

  The man in front of me—this is the real Liam. He’s more confident, more powerful, than I’ve ever seen him. It dawns on me that there’s something about this room that brings it out of him.

  In this room, I’m the one wearing restraints.

  In this room, he can be free.

  Liam reaches his hand out and cups my breast. His thumb draws a soft circle around my nipple, and then the hand drops.

  It trails down the slope of my stomach, down towards my sex. I shudder with pleasure as his fingers begin to probe the soft folds of my lips.

  “You have a lot to learn about men,” he whispers into my ear. “But don’t worry. I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”

  His fingers brush across my clit. I moan.

  “You ought to say thank you,” he says sternly.

  “Thank you, thank you,” I breathe out.

  His hand falls away suddenly, leaving my sex throbbing and desperate for more.

  “Who are you thanking, now?”

  Right. This is going to take some practice.

  Which I guess is the point of all of this, I think with a shiver.

  “Thank you, Sir,” I say obediently.

  Liam smirks. “In this room,” he says, “you’re mine. I’ll command you as I please, and it will be your privilege to obey.”

  He pauses, as if waiting for some kind of response from me. I hesitate, unsure of what exactly I’m supposed to say.

  The seconds tick. The leather whip begins to rise in his hand as he grows impatient.

  Quickly, I stammer out a “Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir.”

  To my relief, this seems to satisfy him.

  “That took you long enough,” he says. “You’re going to learn your manners by the time I’m through with you.”

  He begins to slide his hand up the length of the whip, tracing his fingers tantalizingly around the tip of the handle.

  “In the meantime,” Liam says, pressing his thumb into the tip, massaging and flicking it, smirking as my own anticipation visibly mounts, “we’re going to have some fun.”

  The whip lands with a light thunk when he drops it to the floor.

  “Pick it up,” he orders.

  Feeling slightly breathless, I take a step forward and lean down to grab it—but his arm shoots out and blocks my path.

  I look up curiously. There’s a gleam in Liam’s eyes. The look alone is enough to make my heart pound.

  “With your teeth,” he specifies.

  I can feel the gasp traveling up my throat; I press my lips together to keep from making a sound. Resolutely, I get down on my hands and knees. My chin slides across the hard floor as I open my mouth wide. My teeth clamp down around the handle. The smells of leather, salt, and cologne fill my nose.

  As I lift chin and whip alike into the air, for a perilous moment I think that the whip is going to tumble out of my mouth—but to my relief, it stays securely between my teeth.

  I turn back to Liam. He raises an eyebrow at me, apparently unimpressed by my feat. His hand makes a “come here” motion.

  The message is clear: crawl back here and put the whip in my hand.

  My left arm reaches forward first, and then my left knee, followed by the right side. One limb moving after the other, I proceed closer and closer to Liam, beneath his expectant gaze. I am suddenly aware of how my breasts swing and jiggle with each of my movements.

  Only seconds pass, but it feels like much longer.

  At last, I find myself at Liam’s feet. My nose presses into his open palm as I obediently place the whip into his hand.

  “Good girl,” he croons. “Now turn around. Let me see that beautiful ass of yours.”

  His words send my limbs into a wild tremble. My breath is haggard with anticipation as I shuffle myself around, until I am facing away from him and my bottom is within his reach.

  “Put your forehead on the floor,” he instructs.

  I do as he says. Waves of excitement, mingled with nervousness, rush through me. I press my eyes closed. And I wait.

  But the sharp snaps of pain don’t arrive. Instead, with a tantalizing slowness, the hard handle of the whip slides up the inside of my thigh. And then, after a few seconds, it disappears.

  I hold my breath, convinced that now I’ll feel the stinging tongues of the whip against my rear. But when it lands a moment later, the impact isn’t on my bottom—but rather between my legs. I let out a yelp before I realize that it doesn’t actually hurt. The impact is soft—more like a tap than a smack.

  And as the whip continues to tap softly, teasingly, against my sex, my back begins to arch with pleasure. I can feel a moan on my tongue, trapped between my teeth.

  “The thing you have to understand, Sophia,” says Liam, “is that if you’re good for me, I’ll be good to you.”

  He leans forward and presses his fingers against my clit, making circular motions that send shivers of ecstasy through me. The moan finally escapes from my lips, and I can hear Liam laugh softly behind me.

  “I could make you come, if I wanted to,” he says.

  It’s not a question, but rather an assertion of his power. I’m putty in his hands.

  He knows it.

  I know it.

  Could I beg for it? Would I do that? Here on the floor, feeling my temperature rise, as euphoria begins to cloud my thoughts, it’s tempting. I need only a little nudge to find my release.

  And if I begged, how would he do it? Would he finish me off with the whip alone? Would he bend down and use his hands, those strong fingers, working in and out of me until my body buckles with pleasure? Or would he get down on his knees himself? Drop his ironed slacks and plunge himself into me, filling every inch of me with his hard, hot cock?

  The thought make my knees quaver beneath me. Another moan escapes my lips.

  “You’re doing that on purpose,” he says sharply. “If you keep moving your ass around like that, you’re going to make me lose all control.”

  The whip snaps against my clit, this time a little more strongly. My hand flies to my mouth to muffle a groan of pleasure.

  “And I hate losing control.”

  I twist my head around just in time to see Liam pull off his tie. He rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. The muscles in his forearms twitch with excitement, barely restrained.

  He leans forward and dangles his tie in front of my nose. I have only a moment to admire the silky blue design before he wraps it around my mouth. The fabric slides between my lips, smearing my lipstick, pressing against my teeth like a gag.

  Liam takes both ends of the tie into his fist at the back of my head. His free hand slides down the slope of my back. When he reaches my backside, his fingers press into my flesh. My skin is singing, electric, in response to his touch.

  “Now hold still,” he instructs.

  But whatever it is that he intends to do with me, or to me, I’ll never know. At this moment, his cell phone begins to ring in his pants pocket.

  I can feel him hesitating beside me, debating whether or not to answer. The ringing sound is loud and screeching in the silent room.

  At last, he groans and stands up, dropping the tie from his grasp. The fabric tumbles out of my mouth and onto the floor.

  “Hello,” he says resignedly into the phone. After a moment’s pause, he says, “Yes, yes, that’s happening tonight.”

  Another pause.

  “Don’t you think I’ve thought of that?” he says hotly. “I’ve planned for every contingency.”

  Deeply curious, I steal a glance upward. Liam’s posture is stiff and his eyes are glassy—the sexy, dominant Liam from mere seconds ago has disappeared.

  Who in the world could be on the other line? I wonder, watching the muscles tighten in his jaw. Who could be important—or intimidating—enough to interrupt Liam’s evening passions? And what’s happening tonight?

  Liam’s eyes flick down distractedly. I avert my eye
s, but it’s too late—he’s caught me watching him.

  “Let me call you back. Two minutes,” he murmurs into the phone, and then quickly ends the call. He looks down at me. “Stand up.”

  I scramble upwards, lifting myself once more onto the balls of my feet. But when I cross my arms behind me to complete the position, he shakes his head at me.

  “Forget that,” he says. “This might take a while. Let’s call it a night.”

  Not when things were just getting so good! I want to protest, but I know that it would be futile. Especially in this room. I cast a wary eye to the leather whip, discarded on the floor between us.

  “Let me get something before you go. I’ll be right back,” he says. He strides past me and slips out the door. I remain in place, lingering, hoping that he’ll change his mind about ending our night. When he returns to the room, there is a white roll of paper in his hand.

  “What’s this?” I ask, momentarily distracted.

  “It’s a contract, of sorts,” he says. The corner of his lip flickers. “If we’re going to continue with this relationship, there are some rules we should specify first.”

  “More rules?” The words slip out of me before I can stop myself. I look up and add a hasty “Sir?”

  Liam laughs. “Give it a read. We can discuss the terms the next time we see each other. It’s negotiable. Mostly.” He winks at me.

  My fingers wrap tightly around the paper. Feeling breathless again, I just nod.

  “I should return this call. They don’t like waiting,” he says, gesturing to his phone. “I trust that you can see yourself out.”

  “Sure,” I murmur, my curiosity deepening once again. I watch him advance toward the door before calling out, “When will I see you again?”

  He pauses. Looking over his shoulder, he says with a smirk, “I’ll let you know.”

  And then he’s gone. I hurry to the edge of the room, where my clothes are neatly folded on the floor beside my purse. I slip on my bra and my dress—but no underpants, of course. That was Liam’s first rule for me.