Dirty Rich Cinderella Story

by Jones, Lisa Renee

  “Quid pro quo,” she declares. “I’m naked, you’re naked.”

  We’re still doing the push and pull, but I don’t mind, not when my mouth is soon to be all over her body, which means her mouth will soon be all over my body. I don’t want her kneeling before me unless it’s to put her mouth on my cock. That’s not my goal, not this time, at least. It’s to own her, and that means she is so damn present, she can’t think, she can only feel. That takes trust and I decide to meet her halfway. I sit down and take off a shoe, showing it to her before setting it down.

  “So now I get a socked foot?” she teases, and I can feel a hint of her tension easing away, her comfort in her own skin begins to settle into place. I can feel her easing into me and the night, letting me glimpse the real woman, not the stranger.

  And I find that I surprise myself by how much I want to know this woman, not just fuck her.

  “The pants don’t come off with the shoes on,” I tell her, and by the time I’ve removed the second shoe, she’s standing in front of me, every creamy white, naked inch of her. She grabs it and tosses it.

  “Now the pants,” she orders, making it clear that she’s no submissive, that she can hold her own, and I fucking love it. “Or the shirt.”

  I reach for her hips and walk her between my legs. “You’ve distracted me,” I tell her, my lips brushing her belly, my tongue drawing a circle. She trembles beneath my mouth, and I glance up at her. “You’re owned when you can think of nothing but the person you’re with. Nothing but what they might do to you now, and in the next moment.” I twine the string at her hips in my fingers. “Or where they might lick, kiss, or touch.” I drag her panties down her legs and then lower my mouth to her sex, where I let my breath tease her. “Tell me to lick you,” I order.

  Her fingers curl around the material over my shoulders. “No.”

  I bite my bottom lip and shake my head. “That’s too bad, because I really wanted to know how you taste.” I nip her hip and when she gives a surprised yelp I lave the wound with my tongue, glancing up at her. “Do you want me to—?”

  “Yes.”

  “Say it, Lori.”

  “Lick me, you asshole.”

  I laugh. “Asshole?”

  “You’re teasing me.”

  “I’m just being sure I know what you want. You want me to lick you. I just want to know where.”

  “I’m not saying what you want me to say.”

  She also isn’t thinking about whatever it was that made her need this escape. I don’t own her yet this night, but we’re getting there. And so, I push harder. “Too much of a lady, are you? I could fix that, if I had at least one more night, but since I don’t—” I lick her clit.

  She sucks in air and stabs fingers into my hair and holds on. I smile and lick her again, suckling her into my mouth, my fingers sliding through the wet heat of her body, but I’m not going to let her come. Not yet. I kiss her belly, and she pulls at my shirt. I wrap my arms around her backside and drag her into my lap. By the time she’s straddling me, we’re already kissing again, but she hasn’t given up on my shirt. “Take it off,” she orders, unhooking two of the buttons.

  At this point, I’m all about having her body pressed to mine, and I reach behind me, and pull it over my head, tossing it behind us. A moment later, I’m molding her close, my hand wide between her shoulder blades, the other on her breast while my mouth suckles and licks at her nipple. She arches into my mouth, and I hold her, but I still don’t own her. I still don’t have her where I want her, where she wants to be.

  I tangle fingers into her hair, drag her gaze to mine. “I want to spank you.”

  She stiffens and presses her hands to my shoulders. “What?”

  I know from her reaction this is new to her, terrifying to her. “It’s pleasure. It’s not pain, but it’s the ultimate escape. Nothing else exists. Trust me, sweetheart, it’s not a beating. It’s erotic. It’s sexy. It good.”

  “I can’t even believe I’m having this conversation.”

  I caress her breast, my thumb stroking her cheek, my lips brushing her lips. “We don’t have to do this,” I say my mouth next to hers. “But I promise you, we will both be so hot and so ready to fuck when it’s done that we will be all over each other.”

  “I can’t believe I’m actually considering this.”

  I pull back to look at her. “Say yes,” I urge. “You won’t be sorry.”

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Lori

  My heart is racing and I am both aroused and terrified. A spanking? Why am I even considering this? Why? It’s impossible that I would and yet, I am. I really am, but it’s crazy. “I don’t know you,” I whisper. “I can’t—”

  “You can,” he says, cupping my head, and sliding his cheek to mine, as if he feels my need for this tiny moment of visual privacy. “It will be good,” he whispers by my ear, his breath a warm tease on my neck. “So damn good, sweetheart.”

  “Says the man giving the spanking. Says the one—”

  “In control?” he asks, pulling back to look at me. “No. I’m not in control. You are. You decide if I do this. You decide if you want that kind of escape.”

  “I’m not into pain. I’m sorry, but—”

  “It’s not about pain, Lori. It will sting at most. It’s about escape. It’s about the freedom to be vulnerable for just a little window of time when you don’t dare any other time.”

  That he knows this about me, is unbelievable. He doesn’t know me. How can he know this?

  “It’s about the adrenaline and the high and the way we’re into what is happening right here and now, that nothing else exists.”

  “And if I don’t want to do this?”

  “We fuck and we enjoy it,” he says simply, no hesitation in him, and I sense that he means it. There’s no pressure. I really feel that from this man.

  “And if I do?”

  “Then I’ll make sure you enjoy it, sweetheart. Really enjoy it.”

  This is intimate. It’s control I am handing him, that I wouldn’t allow anyone I know, and with good reason. I know them. They could use it against me. They could twist it and me with it, and— “I’m not—”

  He kisses me. “Then we won’t,” he says softly.

  “Going to see you again,” I finish.

  He pulls back and arches a brow. “But you’ll let me spank you? Is that what you’re saying?”

  I answer in my own head first:

  No consequences.

  No names.

  Him in control.

  Not me.

  For once, not me.

  “Do it,” I whisper, my heart about to explode in my chest. “But don’t give me time to think about it. Don’t—”

  He kisses me, a deep, long, drugging kiss before he says, “I won’t just do it. That’s punishment. That’s pain. That’s not how a spanking for pleasure works. It’s erotic play and thinking about it, anticipating it, is part of the high.”

  “No room for anything but here and now,” I say, repeating his words, embracing those words.

  “Exactly,” he agrees. “And we both know that’s what you’re looking for tonight. And I get it, Lori. That’s why people play these kinds of games, for pleasure and escape.”

  “So, you—you make a habit of playing these games?”

  “Not a habit,” he assures me. “But I was a member of a club right out of law school,” he says. “It was—an intense time for me for many reasons. I needed an uncomplicated release that didn’t fuck with my head afterward.”

  It feels like a personal confession I shouldn’t welcome, but I do. I’m curious about him. More than I wish I was curious about him. “This kind of play has a place,” he gives me a lift of his lips, a hint of a smile, “it works for many of us who need control, and therefore, fail miserably at drug and alcohol abuses.”

  He scoots us to the edge of the chair and then takes a knee in front of me. “We’re both going to want to fuck when it’s over. That means I
need to put that condom on now.” He brushes his lips over mine and stands up, leaving me naked, and on the edge of my soon-to-be spanked seat, quite literally. I have a moment when I want to fold my arms across my chest, but I force myself to resist the urge. Tonight is about being daring, unapologetically in charge of my desires, and I don’t feel out of control. I said yes. I made this decision. I want to experience new things, and do so with this man.

  Cole reaches into his back pocket and produces his wallet, removing a foil package before tossing the wallet on the coffee table. I grip the cushion on either side of me, aware that my breasts are thrust forward, aware that his eyes rake over them, so aware that my thighs squeeze together while I wait for what comes next, anticipate what comes next.

  My gaze lifts to his and what I find is not dominant, alpha attitude, despite the fact that he’s naturally dominant; I don’t find this revelation of a spanking to create a new dynamic between us of dominant and submissive. Instead, he gives me a wink, his lips curving ever so slightly. “Quid pro quo, right, sweetheart? Now you get to watch me undress.”

  I’m surprised at how easily I laugh. “A little late,” I say, “but yes.”

  “I’ll make it up to you,” he promises, making fast work of his button and zipper before sliding his pants and his underwear down in one long motion.

  Then he’s all mine to view, long, lean muscle, and rippling abs, and then, of course, there is his impressive erection jutting forward between us. My gaze jerks from it to him and he arches a brow. “Do I get your approval?” he asks.

  “I’m still deciding,” I reply, surprised again, at how easily I tease him, how at ease I am while naked with a stranger who’s about to spank me. “I’ll put the condom on for you and let you know after I’m done.”

  “Oh no, sweetheart,” he says, tearing open the package and dropping it on the floor. “I’m willing to admit my weaknesses, and your hand on my cock will be one of them. You touch me like that, and I’ll forget the spanking and fuck you now.” He rolls on the condom into place and in an instant, he’s pulled me to my feet, his hands tangled in my hair in that erotic, rough way he does, and I like it. I like it so much that I am instantly weak in the knees.

  “Have you changed your mind?” he asks, his hand cupping my backside, his erection at my hip.

  “No,” I say, tangling my fingers in the dark wisp of hair on his chest, and no less gently than he holds my own hair. “I have not changed my mind.”

  “Good,” he says. “Then here’s what’s going to happen. I’m going to kiss you and when I’m done, I’m going to sit down on the chair. You’re going to sit down next to me on your knees, facing my lap.”

  “Can we stop talking now please?” I demand. “Can we just—”

  He kisses me, his tongue licking into my mouth, and it’s like something wild is unleashed in me. I want him. I want him now, and I press into him, hold onto him, touch him. I don’t even remember the moment he sits down and drags me with him. Or how my knees settle against his thigh. Because he’s still kissing me, and his hand is on my breast, and mine is on his thigh. But then his lips part mine and his teeth scrape my lip and he says, “You’re going to lay down across my lap, sweetheart.”

  “I am?” I ask, and then quickly amend with, “I am.” And with those words I can feel the adrenaline coursing through me, the high, the rush. The fear that is a bit like being on a rollercoaster, a moment before the plunge. I hate rollercoasters, but I don’t hate this.

  “And then,” he continues. “I’m going to take my time. I’m going to make sure you’re ready to come, on the edge of orgasm, to the point you almost forget the spanking. And that’s when it’s going to happen.”

  He presses his cheek to mine. “Three times. I’ll warn and then it will happen, with no pause in between. Count with me and you’ll know what to expect. Understand, sweetheart?”

  Sweetheart. He keeps calling me that and I like it too much. “Yes.” I say.

  He pulls back and studies me, as if he needs to confirm I’m really in this all the way. He must see what I feel that I am, that I can’t turn away from this, and don’t want to turn away, because he kisses me again. And then he strokes my cheek, with tenderness that defies what he’s about to do. “Now,” he orders softly.

  Now.

  Now.

  Now.

  The word radiates through me.

  Now. He’s going to spank me now and I wait for panic to overwhelm me, but it doesn’t come. Yes, I’m nervous. Yes, I’m even a little scared but I’m tingling all over, warm, aroused. More aroused than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I lower myself across his lap.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Lori

  He really does own me tonight.

  That’s the thought I have as I lie across his lap, his hand coming down on my lower back. He owns me when I didn’t believe it to be possible, but it’s one night. It is the escape he’s promised. The freedom to not have to hold the world up on my shoulders, to not think.

  Just this night.

  Just this night with him.

  The room is silent, and I can hear my own heartbeat thundering in my ears, the pulse of heat, adrenaline and arousal, almost too much to tolerate. Cole’s fingers flex on my back and I expect his next destination to be my backside, but it is not. He caresses a path up my spine, goosebumps lifting in the wake of this gentle touch, and then his palm flattens firmly between my shoulder blades. “Relax,” he orders softly. “I’ll tell you when.”

  “Promise?” I ask.

  “Yes,” he says, his voice as firm as the hand between my shoulders. “I promise. Relax. Lie all the way down.”

  Only then do I realize that I’m on my hands and knees, as if I’m about to crawl away at any moment. I inhale and exhale as I ease to my elbows. “Good,” he says softly, his approval oddly arousing, when I don’t seek approval from men. But I never thought I’d seek a spanking either, and this wasn’t a heat of the moment thing. He asked. I said yes.

  He shifts his body, reaching for something, I think, and right when I’m going to twist around to figure out what, music begins to play, classical music. I don’t know classical music, which makes me unable to identify the song, but my mind tries to place it as a match to Cole in some way, but I cannot. All I know is that like the man, it’s a match to me right now. The piano notes lift in the air just enough to soften my heartbeat, and I have no idea why, but this helps. I feel myself ease into the cushion, into him, into Cole, whose name I didn’t want to know. His hand moves, and I’m instantly on alert, on edge, but not afraid. I really expect to be afraid, but there is just something about the way this man has handled this, the way he is, that doesn’t stir this type of feeling in me.

  He caresses a path down my back again, fingers trailing my spine and then he’s cupping one of my cheeks, stroking the other. My fingers curl into my palms, my nipples aching with inattention. My backside begins to warm, and Cole’s palms caresses and caresses some more before he slides fingers along the seam of my body into the wet heat of my sex.

  I suck in air as the sensation of his touch spirals through my body, and when he begins tracing my clit with one hand, one finger, he also begins a slow pat over the top of my sex with the others. It’s nothing anyone has ever done to me before, but it’s good. It’s really good, each pat rocking me with spikes of pleasure. I am wet, I am aroused, I am so on edge, so ready to come, that I’ve forgotten everything but wanting more, needing more. I arch into the touch, and I’m shocked when Cole’s hand flattens on my backside, his finger leaving my clit. When he just stops and does nothing. Seconds tick by and I gasp out, “Cole,” in desperation.

  As if that is what he’s waited for, he replies with, “Three counts, remember? Now, Lori, are you ready?”

  “No.” My breath blasts from my lungs. “Yes. I mean, yes.”

  “Now,” he says again, and this time now means now. His hand comes down on my backside, and it’s as he promised. A sting I feel, arc
hing my back with the impact, and already his palm returns.

  “Two,” I breathe out and no sooner do I say that word then I feel the last burn of his palm. Three. My sex clenches and I arch forward, but a moment later, Cole is pulling me up, and I’m straddling his lap, his fingers tangling in my hair. “Are you okay?” he asks.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m—” His mouth closes down on mine and the minute his tongue licks into my mouth, I moan and sink into the kiss. I didn’t want to need anything tonight, but I need this kiss. I need him. I need—

  He lifts me, and I shift with him, wanting what he seeks, wanting him inside me. Cole balances my weight, lifting me, and oh God, yes, he presses inside me, stretching me. Pleasing me. He pulls me down onto his erection, even as he thrusts up and hard. I grip his shoulders, and when our eyes meet, there is a pulse between us that radiates through my body. He doesn’t feel like a stranger. He doesn’t feel like he was supposed to feel and yet he feels perfect.

  He moves, and I move, and we begin to thrust and pump, and his hands cup my breasts, lips on my lips, on my neck. On my nipple, tugging it while my body rocks against that tug. I can’t get enough of him, or move fast enough, or deep enough. He folds me into his body, strong arms holding me, and he kisses me. We continue to rock and rock some more, and more, and then I’m there—so very there—falling into him and the pleasure. Tumbling over the edge, until my body stiffens, my sex clenching around his thick erection.

  I bury my face in his neck and he drives into me. A low guttural groan slides from his lips and I quake with release, shuddering all over to the point that I can’t breathe. I lose time. I lose the ability to freely think or move. There is just this man, and intense pleasure. This man that holds me through every last spasm, and doesn’t let go, not even when I collapse into him, against him. I feel him sink deeper into the cushions with me, the two of us easing into the aftermath of what just happened together.