Insolence
Page 2
As if she could read his thoughts, a glint of appreciation appeared in her eyes. His heart leapt and a smile turned up the corners of his mouth.
“I never thought I would have the opportunity to speak these words to you but, Ains, I want you,” he murmured, his fingers slipping into the open neckline of her silk shirt.
Her breath caught audibly in her throat when he stroked her skin. Swiftly and expertly, he unbuttoned her shirt, letting it fall from her body. He marveled at the satin of her skin. She wore no bra and her full breasts tantalized him, the hard, dusky tips standing at attention. His groin fired anew.
Then, for the first time in all the years they’d known each other, he bent his head and kissed her. The softness of her lips seduced him. Liquid fire rushed through his veins and his control snapped. His tongue brushed the seam of her lips. She opened her mouth, shivering as he licked at the wet flesh inside. The taste of her intoxicated him more than the finest champagne and he floated on a euphoric cloud, all because he was finally kissing Ainsley.
Aric’s hands glided up her naked back, pressing her against his chest, her unconfined breasts molding themselves to his hard contours. The sensation of those hard nipples poking into his pecs through the thin material of his t-shirt couldn’t be denied. He reached up to cup the firm mounds. Ainsley began to shake and he deepened the kiss, his tongue no longer teasing but demanding. He pushed past her teeth and took control of her tongue, coaxing it into his mouth. He sucked on it lightly while his fingers made short work of her jeans.
The denim slid down her thighs. Aric broke the kiss, needing to see her silken skin, touch it and taste it. He resisted, only letting himself look. “Remove your boots.”
She knelt before him to remove the boots and stayed on her knees, eyes downcast, arms crossed at her back. Jealousy flicked at him. He wondered where she had learned that since she’d already admitted to not being trained.
Aric felt completely out of control. He had just broken every rule he’d steadfastly enforced in life since he’d opened Insolence. He had no contract with her. He’d brought her to his home instead of the dungeon. She had asked to be his submissive, yet he hadn’t treated her at all as he would a sub. As if he were a criminal on a high-speed chase, he’d blown through all the barriers he’d put into place to keep his control at its maximum. And he didn’t fucking care.
The woman in front of him had been his wet dream for the better part of his life. He’d kissed her and a whole new world had opened for him. He’d touched her and marveled at how cardboard his dreams were compared to the reality. Now his every sense had swung into stunning focus, as if he’d put on 3-D glasses.
“Undress me.”
Aric closed his eyes when she rose to her feet. His senses opened fully as she slid his t-shirt up, tugged his arms through and cupped the back of his head to pull his shirt off. Her fingers trailed lightly down his chest and his control threatened to snap at her touch. When she reached his jeans and popped the top button, he opened his eyes. He didn’t want to miss a moment of her expression when she saw his cock.
The zipper came down carefully and he could swear she held her breath, but he was so busy holding his own he wasn’t sure. Her long fingers brushed against his swollen length through his denims. Aric gritted his teeth. The sensations licking along his nerve endings had him on the verge of orgasm already.
“Oh!”
Whisper soft, the startled exclamation accompanied her discovery that he wore no underwear. Too intent on her reactions to smile, Aric thrust his hips toward her.
“Take them off.”
She tipped her head to look up at him, but before her eyes could reach his, she dropped her gaze, dipped her head and slipped her hands into his jeans. Her warm fingertips grazed his buttocks and Aric bit back a groan. Her hands stroked down the outside of his thighs, taking his jeans with them. She froze for a moment as his cock sprang free. Her nails scored his thigh muscles and the tip of her tongue flicked out to dampen her lips.
“Do you want me, Ainsley?”
Again, her tongue swiped over her lips. “Yes,” she whispered, without raising her eyes. Hastily, she corrected herself. “Yes Sir.”
Aric smiled. His body thrummed with a sexual tension far beyond what he usually felt with a new sub. His actions were not by the book, but this was Ainsley. His emotions and his body never reacted normally to her. He knew in his gut that he could never have a Dom/sub relationship with her. Nor did he want to, a fact that surprised him only a little. For years he’d gotten off on dominating women. With Ainsley, he wanted to control her but not dominate her. Not exactly. The realization that he needed so much more from her had begun to shred the fabric of the life and the lifestyle he’d lived for the last few years.
“Finish undressing me. I want to fuck you.”
Aric’s crude words didn’t elicit a reaction from her. She quickly finished her task and sat back on her heels, her eyes lowered. Gooseflesh prickled her skin and Aric knew she was acutely aware of him, of his nakedness, his strength…and his cock. He reached out to stroke the shining strands of her hair, his fingers trembling slightly. His control felt shattered. No one had ever affected him as she did.
As her silky hair slid through his fingers, he drew a deep, calming breath. He took a step back from her. “Come,” he commanded and turned toward his bedroom.
He knew she followed him, but had the disconcerting urge to glance back and make sure. In the bedroom he didn’t turn on the lights. Instead, he opened the blinds. The wall of glass let in every bit of ambient light from the street below as well as the brilliant silver moonlight. His four-poster bed stood in the center of the room, dominating the huge space. Ainsley stood just inside the door, her eyes lowered.
For a moment, Aric thought he would completely disgrace himself by coming. Standing half in moonlight, half in shadow, her naked body was so close to his idea of perfection, he knew she’d been made for him. The vision of her naked in his bedroom, submitting to his dominance, almost did him in.
“Lie on the bed with your arms stretched above you,” he said hoarsely.
She moved like liquid silver, her muscles and flesh fluid and graceful. She turned back the sheets and comforter and stretched out on the dark paisley-patterned sheets. Her breasts rose, the stiff points of her nipples arcing upward as she lifted her arms above her head.
On legs that shook from the force of his arousal, Aric walked to his dresser. He swallowed hard. No sub had ever been in his bedroom. Ainsley was the first and only woman ever to lie on the bed he slept in. He couldn’t even remember the last time he’d spent the night with a woman. He usually didn’t have the accoutrements of the lifestyle in his home. He’d always played in the club.
For a moment he stood staring at her, thinking how he’d kept his life completely compartmentalized. He lived the life of a Dom, but always in public. Not around his family and never around Ainsley. Yet she knew what he did to get off. She knew he didn’t do vanilla sex.
He stared at her, taking in the sexy body he longed to touch and taste. His cock and balls began to protest his lack of action. Shaking off the sense that he had just jumped off a cliff without a parachute, Aric grabbed a set of steel handcuffs from the top of the dresser. Lined thickly with padding and plush velvet, the cuffs weren’t meant to pinch or hurt, only to restrain. They were the only thing he had in the apartment that spoke of his lifestyle. He’d brought them upstairs to customize them by adding a few links to the chain. His fingers closed over the cool metal and he took the cuffs to the bed.
Ainsley’s head didn’t move. Her eyes were still lowered even though she lay on her back. Aric knelt on the mattress. He started to reach for her arms and hesitated, the weight of the cuffs heavy in his hand. The realization that he was about to cuff his best friend, a woman he loved more than any other person in his life outside his family, made him hesitate. The thought occurred to him that he should be making love to her, cherishing her, not cuffing her to his be
d so he could fuck her into submission.
Cool fingers brushed his, stroking the metal of the cuffs.
“I want this.”
Aric froze. Again she hadn’t acted as a true sub would, but he really didn’t care, dismissing her demeanor in favor of the sensations ripping through him. His body reacted to her words and touch as if someone had struck a match inside him, setting off the fuse to a block of C-4.
Closing the cuff around one slender wrist, he threaded the short chain through a bar on the headboard and snapped the other cuff on. He stared at her restrained arms. Shock reverberated within him. Holy shit. He’d cuffed Ainsley Connor.
Chapter Two
A thousand ideas about what to do first with Ainsley clamored for attention in Aric’s brain. He sat back on his heels and let his eyes take in the eerily strange yet wholly satisfying image of Ainsley in his bed, restrained by handcuffs. He’d dreamed it so many times he almost pinched himself to be assured of his wakefulness.
He breathed deep and a citrus scent filled his nostrils. Ainsley had smelled like oranges and limes for as long as he could remember. Now his nose picked out another scent. The scent of her arousal. His cock twitched painfully as he glanced down at her legs. Her thighs were parted slightly, enough that he wanted to burrow between them and push them farther apart so he could bury his face in her pussy.
Lust spiked hard within him and, unable to control himself any longer, he cupped one breast in his palm. She sucked in a breath, the sharp sound breaking him free of his reverie. He tested the weight of the firm flesh, raking his thumb over the stiff nipple. Her skin felt like the softest velvet. Her body rippled, the undulating movement letting him know she’d pressed her thighs together.
Aric smiled. As horny as he was, at least he wasn’t alone. She wanted him just as badly as he wanted her. Maybe more, since she’d had to come here to offer herself to him.
He deliberately ran his fingertips over her body with the lightest of touches. From her throat down to her collarbone. Around each breast in a swirl until he reached the hard, peaked tip. Along her ribs to the flat planes of her belly. Across her hipbones and into her navel. Trailing his fingers down her hip to where the curve of her buttocks sank into the mattress, he stroked down one thigh, over her knee, up the inside of the other thigh…
A moan broke from her and his fingers stopped.
“You like that. You like me touching you.” He let his words brush over her in lieu of his fingers.
“Yes!” Her reply held a loss of control he found empowering. She practically sobbed with wanting him.
He wanted to cover her body with his and kiss her until they both turned to Jell-O, but remembering what she’d asked for downstairs, he smacked her thigh sharply with the palm of his hand. “The answer is ‘yes Sir’! Don’t forget why you are here, Ainsley,” he warned.
“Yes Sir,” she said in a low, shaken voice.
He heard the lust that underscored her words. His cock ached to take her and get it over with, to take the edge off his arousal and to know what it felt like to fuck her. He wasn’t ready to relinquish control yet, however. He’d waited twenty years. Another twenty minutes didn’t matter despite the bitching from his balls.
Aric slowly parted her thighs, his gaze raking over their slender form, the well-toned muscles sleek and pliant beneath his fingers. Her pussy lay before him, the folds of her slit unfurled and engorged with blood, moisture glistening on the pink tissues. She waxed, something that kicked his lust up a few more notches.
He stared at the apex of her thighs, enthralled with the delicate flesh. Finally, the handcuffs rattled as she moved restlessly. With gentle hands, Aric pushed her thighs wide and angled his torso between them.
“Oh you are something else, Ainsley,” he murmured, his fingertip teasing the swollen petals of her labia.
She whimpered at the slight touch and he knew she’d become exquisitely sensitive. With his thumbs, he carefully eased her open, his gaze drawn to her deep-pink center where more moisture pooled. He blew a stream of air on her and a strangled cry escaped her. He grinned. He loved that what he did drove her crazy. Payback, he thought with deep satisfaction. Every jiggle of her breasts, every sway of her hips, every brush of her body against his for three-quarters of his life had been torture.
“Hold very still, Ainsley,” he commanded. “If you move, I may have to punish you. Do you understand?”
“Yes Sir.”
The reedy sound of her voice gave away her hard-won composure. She had to concentrate to speak, and all she wanted to do was thrust her cunt into his face. He knew the signs, knew how badly she ached with the need to come. He bent down and sucked her labia into his mouth, his tongue rolling over the sensitive skin as he tasted her salty, sweet essence.
The hitch in her breathing coupled with the quivering of her muscles made Aric smile. She held herself still with difficulty, and he was about to make it even harder for her. Determined to break her down to mindless pleasure, he let the point of his tongue graze her wet folds. Swirling his tongue, then lapping at her with the flat of it, he worked her into a frenzy. Cream coated his chin and he rubbed its stubbled surface against her, using the friction as part of his assault on her pussy.
Aric licked, nipped, sucked, stroked and teased every inch of her engorged flesh. He had three fingers embedded in her depths, working her pussy and pressing relentlessly at her G-spot. By the time he pulled back the hood of her clit and circled it with his tongue, he had her so worked up he knew she could no longer control herself.
A keening cry escaped Ainsley as she came, her pussy clamping down on his fingers as her hips jerked, her body beyond her control. Aric flicked his tongue repeatedly over her clit. Her skin rippled as her muscles contracted. He looked up briefly and saw that she had a white-knuckled grip on the slats of the headboard. Pulling his fingers free of her body, he lifted his head, licking his lips and tasting her essence on his mouth.
As he watched the rapid rise and fall of her chest, Aric thought about kneeling over her and filling her mouth with his cock. The Dom in him hoorahed at the notion of making her suck his cock while she was cuffed to the bed. But the man who had spent years dreaming about her giving him a blowjob wasn’t satisfied with that scenario.
Leaving the bed, he retrieved the key to the handcuffs. He leaned over and unlocked them, drawing them from her wrists and setting them on the nightstand. Ainsley’s eyes met his and he saw a very un-sublike touch of anger in them.
“I said I wanted this, Aric. Why are you stopping?” she asked softly but with a hint of steel in her voice.
Aric bit back a grin at her tone and question. If he hadn’t been completely focused on having her blow him, he would have taken exception to her lack of control and aggressive manner. He took her hand and pulled her up until she sat on the edge of the mattress, feet on the floor. His gaze slid over her nude form, her skin still flushed from her orgasm.
“I’m not stopping. I just want to see my sub on her knees.”
Firmly he pushed her to the floor, spreading his thighs and drawing her between them. She went willingly, her eyes cast down again. Gazing down at Ainsley’s bent head, Aric thought briefly about the road that led him to this searingly significant moment. All the high school and college years of dating, girlfriends and vanilla sex had left him restless and with the nagging sense that he’d missed out on something. Discovering BDSM and his dominant tendencies after college led him to a career path and a lifestyle that he’d been happy with for nearly ten years. Being a Dom satisfied him as nothing else ever had.
As Ainsley knelt with her face only inches from his swollen cock, Aric had an epiphany. Maybe being a Dom wasn’t the perfect fit he’d thought it was. Sure, he’d had the best sex of his life since he’d become part of the BDSM community and he’d been happier than at any time since he’d hit puberty, but that same nagging sense of something missing had still been there. He’d just been too busy having fun to notice.
&nbs
p; With Ainsley’s cream still tart on his tongue, it dawned on him that he’d used being a Dom to keep people at arm’s length. He hadn’t had a girlfriend in more than five years. He’d never brought a woman to his home, never taken one to meet his father, never slept with one overnight. He’d cut intimacy from his life.
He didn’t want to shove his cock in Ainsley’s mouth while she’d been restrained because he wanted her to touch him. He needed the intimacy of her hands on him, needed her to have the freedom to express how much she wanted him without a submissive’s compulsion to please.
As she’d knelt between his thighs, he knew that with her he could never have a true Dom/sub relationship, one that encompassed every facet of their lives. Ainsley was too dominant herself, and Aric didn’t want to change her. He needed to take her beyond vanilla sex, but at the same time, he had no urge to completely master her. The city’s most prominent Dom might have the fierce urge to collar her and dominate her in the bedroom, but he had no desire to put a leash on her and parade her through his club publicly. Her submission, such as it was, would be solely for him.
Aric stroked his hand over her hair. He’d broken all his own rules and reveled in it. Instead of disengaging his emotions, he had given them free rein for the first time in years. And his cock had never been so hard.
“Sir?”
Ainsley’s soft murmur pulled him from his thoughts. Pain jabbed him, shocking him. Earlier, he’d found it incredibly hot that she’d called him that. Now that he’d tasted her and touched her, he found it disconcerting that he preferred the sound of his name on her lips to the evidence of her submission. His lips quirked in a derisive smile. All the years he’d spent building his reputation as a Dom and he’d been brought to his knees—figuratively anyway—by a woman who knew what he’d looked like with a mouth full of braces and an outbreak of acne.