Pleasure Point

by Eden Bradley

“I never joke,” he said, yawning.

  How did the man manage to look so damn sexy with his dark hair ruffled and stubble on his jaw?

  Had to be the stubble.

  She laughed. “If you say so. Fine. Tea service. What do you take?”

  “I’m English. Milk and one sugar. And Miranda? I wanted to ask if I’ve gained your trust?”

  “What? Yes. You have. Is that a prerequisite to tea service?”

  “No, but it may be to other things. By the way, see you put the milk in the cup first.”

  She clucked her tongue. “Picky, picky.”

  “It’s a Dom’s job to be picky,” he said, yawning again.

  She prepared his tea, handed him the cup. “You know, if you keep yawning you’ll ruin that whole authoritarian tone thing.”

  The next thing she knew he’d grabbed her and pulled her across his lap—she had no idea where his teacup had gone—and tore her sarong off to give her a sound smack on the ass.

  “How’s that for authoritarian?”

  “Much better,” she said, her body beginning to purr.

  “I should hope so. Pour your tea and drink some. Then we’re going to bathe in the ocean.”

  They had their tea and a few of the scones, which were excellent, having come out of her kitchen like the bread they’d had the night before. Then they got up and wandered down to the water, Roan holding onto her hand. She realized he’d hardly let her go all night.

  The foam curled around their feet, and they stood for a while, enjoying the morning sun on their skin, smiling to each other for no apparent reason. She didn’t want to question it too closely. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt this good, this relaxed, and she didn’t want to ruin it.

  Roan pulled on her hand, raised one dark, elegant brow, then picked her up, threw her over his shoulder and strode into the waves with her.

  “Roan!” she squealed.

  “I said it was bath time. Quiet now or there’ll be another spanking.”

  “How is that a threat?”

  “Excellent point. But do you have any idea how much more an open hand stings on wet flesh? Let’s find out, shall we?”

  She was laughing, struggling, but he was so strong—it was easy enough for him to strip her bikini bottoms off and dip her down into the crashing waves until she was thoroughly soaked. Then, standing again, he smacked her bare bottom hard.

  “Oh!”

  “Bad?” he asked. “Poor girl.”

  “Your attempt at sympathy is falling short, Roan.”

  He smacked her again, a quick volley of stinging slaps that made her smile, her body filling up with the lovely endorphins.

  “Good girl. Nice and quiet.”

  He lowered her into the water, holding her in his arms. Her body was buzzing with need, and as he pulled her closer, she felt the hard ridge of his desire against her belly. The mood shifted in a flash and she sighed as she pressed closer. He fisted a hand in her wet hair, pulling until her head tilted back, his green eyes gleaming in the sun, making her breath catch. He bent his head to kiss her, but she grabbed his chin, stopping him.

  “Roan, wait. We need to renegotiate.”

  “What? Now?”

  “Right now. We need to renegotiate the sex.”

  “Ah. I do like you, Miranda. You think of everything.”

  He yanked her in hard, hard enough that she could feel his nipple rings even through her bathing suit top—and suddenly remembered she was no longer wearing any bottoms. Which was incredibly hot. She pressed closer against him.

  “So what do we do, Roan?”

  “If your suggestion regarding negotiating sex means you are giving your consent, then I believe I fuck you until you can’t walk, my beauty.”

  “Oh! Yes, please.”

  In a flash he’d lifted her, wrapping her legs around his waist so that his hard cock was pressed against her needy sex, with nothing but his wet swim trunks in the way. She moaned, needing more.

  “If only I had a damn condom handy,” he growled in her ear. Then he shifted her until she was over his broad shoulder once more.

  “Roan—”

  A sharp smack on her bare ass shut her up. Nothing more came out of her but soft moans as he stroked and pinched her skin, carrying her back up the beach toward the cabana. Some small part of her brain protested at the way he was man handling her, but mostly she simply loved it.

  He laid her down roughly on the couch and she waited, watching as he stepped quickly out of his trunks to reveal the beauty of his hard cock. It was thick and long, a light golden color, the swollen head a bit darker. She wanted to wrap her hand around it. Her lips. Her pussy.

  He kept his gaze on hers, two points of darkly burning green, as he tore open a small gold packet and sheathed himself.

  “Where did you get that?”

  “Shh. And open for me.”

  She did as he asked, loving the command in his voice and the feel of his big body as he slid between her thighs. He kept his gaze on hers as he reached between them and brushed his fingers over her wet pussy.

  She licked her lips.

  “Oh, yes. You know that makes me crazy,” he murmured. “That wet little tongue of yours on your gorgeous lips. But these lips are wet and gorgeous, too,” he said, stroking her.

  “Mmm… Oh…”

  “I am going to fuck you, Miranda. Even saying the words makes me harder. Seeing you lying here under me. I am so damn hard for you I can barely stand it. But I’m going to torture you a bit first.”

  She squirmed, tried to close her eyes, but he caught her chin in his hand. “You will look at me,” he commanded. “You will watch me while I play with you. Tell me you understand.”

  She groaned. “Oh God Roan. Yes. I understand. Sir. Fuck.”

  He chuckled, let her chin go and went back to teasing her pussy lips with his clever fingertips.

  “Do you like it when I touch you like this?”

  “Yes, Roan.”

  She was dying. With pleasure. With unmet need. Her pulse was racing.

  “Do you like it when I press into you, beauty? Into your beautiful, hot pussy?” He slid his fingers into her, pulled out, pushed deeper. Pleasure shivered through her sex, through her body.

  “Ah….God, yes, Roan.”

  He leaned in and brushed her lips with his. She tilted her chin, wanting to be kissed, but he moved away, flicked his tongue over her mouth. Waited, then did it again. Then again. She began to squirm.

  “Still, Miranda,” he whispered against her lips. “Hold still and take it.”

  “I can’t!”

  “I’ll help you.”

  He leaned in and kissed her then, his soft, warm mouth on hers, his tongue opening her up as his fingers did. Her body was filling up with pleasure: his tongue, his hand, the breadth of his big body spreading her open wide. And the scent of him filling up her head.

  She was shaking with the effort to hold still as pleasure spiraled inside her, crested, held her at that keen edge.

  He stopped.

  “No, Roan.”

  “Oh, yes.”

  He pulled back, rising up on his knees. And with his gaze firmly on hers, he took his thick shaft in his hand, spread her pussy with the other, and pushed into her.

  “Oh!”

  She was ready to climax already, even with him holding still, the tip of his cock inside her. But she knew to hold it back. She blinked up at him, stunned by the ragged desire on his face. She reached up, placed her palm in the middle of his chest to feel his heart beating there—it was racing as fast as hers.

  He made a small nod and some vague understanding seemed to pass between them—that this moment was something unique and special. She didn’t understand. She didn’t need to.

  His hand covered hers, then he lifted it, pressed a kiss to her fingertips. Paused, kissed her palm. Bit it.

  She watched him, absorbing the little bit of pain, waiting for the pleasure she knew he held back from her. />
  “Roan,” she murmured, “don’t make me beg.”

  “How can I when I want you this much?” He slid in a little further, and her body clenched around him. “Ah, Christ, you feel like fucking heaven, my beauty. I need to… I need to fuck you so hard.”

  “Yes, please,” was all she could say. She didn’t dare say more. She was afraid she’d tell him how badly she needed to feel the length of him inside her, the connection of flesh to flesh completed. So she would feel completed, somehow.

  Crazy.

  Yes. She didn’t care.

  He reached for her, tracing her lips with his fingertips, his cock stilled inside her. He pressed two fingers against her lower lip, gave a small nod of his chin, and she knew exactly what he wanted. Demanded. She opened her mouth and sucked his fingers, taking them deep.

  “Ah, perfect,” Roan muttered, his face slack with pleasure.

  He began to move his fingers, fucking her mouth with them, making her love it even as she wished it was his thick cock inside her. She wanted to grind into him so badly she could barely contain herself, and when she heard him moan she lost all ability to control herself, her hips rising to meet his.

  He immediately pulled back. “Ah, bad girl, Miranda,” he said, his cock slipping from her completely. “Is this what you want? Some good, hard fucking? Because I can give you that. But you’ll have my cock when I say you can.”

  His fingers replaced his thick shaft and he went to work right away, pumping hard into her. She nearly wanted to cry that he was withholding his flesh from her—the flesh she felt so in need of—and yet she felt herself open for him, soaking his hand. She was on the verge of coming in moments.

  “Oh, fuck, Miranda. So damn wet. So good, God damn it.” He growled, shoved her legs open wider with his free hand. “Why do I deny myself when punishing you is only punishing myself?”

  He withdrew his hand, moved between her thighs and thrust into her, every lovely inch of him buried so hard and fast it made her gasp.

  “Ah! God, I need to come, Roan.”

  “When I say so.”

  He kissed her, a hard kiss that ended in a nip to her lips. Her head was spinning, her body in sensation overload already. And then he drew back, that sharp gaze on hers once more. And as he watched her and fucked her, pleasure like pinpoints of light covering every inch of her body—inside her, all over her skin—he wrapped a hand around her throat.

  This is where I completely lose it.

  She’d always loved breath play. She remembered vaguely that they’d discussed it and knew it felt right—to give him her trust as she gave him her body.

  He was watching her very carefully as his hips slowed their motion and his hand tightened. It felt like some sort of electric shock: his beautiful green gaze, their very watchfulness, and his strong hand controlling her breathing. He squeezed the tiniest bit, waited for her to gasp, loosened his grip. Allowed her to take a breath or two, squeezed again and slid slowly into her. Did it again.

  She felt her body going loose, her mind losing all but that concentrated focus on him and sensation.

  Him.

  Pleasure was warm and liquid in her system. His cock was hot and hard in her pussy. And she felt herself giving it all over to him. Her pleasure. Her control. Her breath.

  Powerful.

  He bent and pressed soft kisses over her cheeks as she gasped, not letting up until she really began to choke and a tear rolled down her cheek.

  “Ah, there it is, my beauty. It’s all good. You’re fine. I’ve got you,” he whispered, sliding his hand up to wipe the tear away before burying his face in her neck.

  His hand went under her buttocks, raising her hips and she pulled her knees up, allowing him greater access as he began to really thrust, filling her with his cock over and over. She was trembling with the fiery need to come, but she bit it back. He moved faster until he was bucking into her in hard, punishing strokes. Until all she could do was hang on to his shoulders, digging her nails in, panting and crying his name. Until, when he muttered permission, her climax tore through her in shuddering surges of pleasure, then again when he didn’t stop. Her mind was empty, her body nothing but his. And somehow when he came into her, his voice raw as he called her name, even blocked by the condom he felt more hers than he had before.

  How did that make sense?

  Small shudders of post-orgasm rippled through her as his thrusts slowed, and he used his fingertips to hit the pressure points just below her collarbones, his pleasure and the small, sharp pain driving her on.

  “Roan… I feel like… I can’t stop coming,” she murmured breathlessly.

  “Then don’t.”

  His softening cock twitched inside her, began to swell again, and to her amazement he picked up the pace, angling his hips so he his pelvic bone hit her swollen clit, and need spiraled once more. He pressed harder into the two pressure points, then as she began to clench in climax, he dug his fingertips in, making her cry out in exquisite pain, exquisite pleasure.

  “Roan! Ah, God!”

  Finally her body calmed and he went still inside her, his fingertips releasing. She blinked up at him, found his features soft and relaxed. She reached up and touched his dimple, making him smile.

  “Feeling good, beauty?”

  “Mmm, yes. I feel amazing.”

  “So do I.” He stroked her hair from her face, and her heart squeezed at the tenderness of the simple gesture.

  Stop it. It’s just from the sex and the pain and his dominance.

  But was it? How could she be feeling all of this after only two days?

  “Roan…”

  “What is it?”

  She wanted to stop herself but the words came out anyway. “Will you stay with me for a while today? I mean…can you?”

  “I told you I would offer whatever aftercare you needed.”

  “I…yes.”

  She turned her face away, looking out at the brilliant sea, trying not to cry. Silently scolding herself for wanting to.

  “Hey.” He turned her face back to his. “Miranda. I don’t know what the hell is happening here, but it’s something. Something. Right now I just want to go with it. We have the week, don’t we? I plan to use all of it. And then… well, then we’ll see.”

  She nodded. “Okay. Okay. To be honest, the idea of anything after that week is…too scary to think about, island magic or not, something I’m not exactly sure I believe in.”

  “Yes. But if it’s not some sort of magic then all that’s left is us.” He was quiet for several long moments, his brows drawn. “Let’s try to stay in the moment then, shall we? Try to remind yourself of that when you start dropping. And I think the drop will stop happening the more your body becomes used to play again.”

  “You’re right. About all of it. Let’s just be here now.”

  He smiled, and everything seemed alright again. “Right now I probably need a shower. Then I have to devise a plan for tonight. All I have on the agenda at the moment is a vague idea about doing some very wicked things to you. Very un-Domly of me not to be better prepared.”

  She laughed. “So it is.”

  “Hey, now.”

  She batted her lashes. “Does this mean I need to be punished?”

  “Always.”

  He slipped out of her and before she had a chance to be disappointed, he’d turned her over and smacked her bottom.

  “Ouch!”

  “‘Ouch’ is not a safeword, young lady.”

  “Roan!”

  “Proper titles,” he demanded as he smacked her again.

  “Jesus!”

  “Wrong title.”

  “Roan!” Another hard smack and she yelped as she laughed. “Roan, Sir!”

  “Better.”

  He turned her over again, helping her to sit upright, and once more she had that lovely sense of being manhandled. And a view of his amazing body as he stood to discard the condom. His tight, tanned abs were almost enough to make her need to com
e again.

  “Shower,” he said in that way he had, letting her know it was a command with a single word.

  “I suppose you have that set up on the beach, too?”

  “Don’t put it past me, but I had something else in mind. I’m taking you to my lair.”

  “You have a lair?”

  “All good Doms have one, or didn’t you know?”

  “Apparently not. I’ll wait to be enlightened.”

  He picked up her sarong and held it out to her. “Get dressed, my sassy Miranda, and I will show you how we Doms live. It’s all black leather and naked slaves in chains in the basement.”

  “Is it? Now that I have to see. I was under the apparently false impression that you lived like the rest of us.”

  He tossed the blue and green fabric at her. “Better put this on before I take your sassy ass and put you over my knee again.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good girl.”

  Chapter Six

  She’d been surprised when he drove her across the island and back to the large building that held the staff living quarters—her building. But she remained quiet, waiting to see if he was going to tell her to grab a few things from her apartment. Instead he’d led her to the private elevator that went only one place: to the executive penthouse suite on the top floor.

  The doors slid open and revealed a white marble-paved foyer, the walls hung with heavy pewter-framed mirrors. She caught his gaze in their reflection.

  “You live here?”

  “I do when I’m on the island.”

  “I suppose that makes sense, since you’re one of the designers. I always assumed this apartment was used by management or… I don’t know what I assumed. I’m surprised I never ran into you, though. Although you do have your own elevator. And I guess you probably arrive at night, given the cross-country journey you have to make from California to Florida.”

  “All true. Come, let me show you in.” He wrapped an arm around her waist, yanking her in close, making her smile. “I’m going to have to try very hard to let you bathe, to let you breathe for a minute.”

  “I don’t need to breathe,” she said, and she saw he understood the different layers behind her words. She didn’t want to stop, even for a few moments. And she absolutely loved the breath play. She was going wet even thinking about it.