Derision

by Trisha Wolfe

  There’s no beautiful way to describe this exchange. Chase Larkin is fucking me. Hard and demanding. His hot breath blisters my skin as his mouth wanders over my shoulder, my neck, his tongue soothing each hurt he inflicts with his teeth, until he reaches my lips.

  He devastates me with an intense kiss as he drives inside once more, and I moan against him, my own teeth catching his lip. A metallic taste touches my tongue before I feel his smile.

  His tongue sweeps his bottom lip, tasting the hint of red. “Punishing is my job, temptress,” he says as his hand snakes around my ass, then his finger is pushing inside me, making me full, triggering my body to tighten around him.

  My legs anchor to his hips just as he delivers another hard thrust, driving into me deep and claiming. For a terrifying second, I fear he’s about to stop—to punish me for biting him and deny me once again.

  “Soak my fucking cock,” he demands, sinking his finger into me farther. I feel him become harder inside me with each penetrating plunge. “I’m going to fill your greedy little pussy…but first, I want to feel you come, temptress. Feel your cunt rain on my cock until I’m forced to fuck you hard—”

  A cry breaks loose as my orgasm tears through me—a pulsing beat that builds into a fury of vibrations. Seeking and intense, discovering every erotic nerve in my body until I’m shuddering against him, my limbs too weak to cling. But his arms secure me to him, the wall and his body perfectly absorbing the impact against the detonating aftershocks rolling through me.

  Heat nearly burns me where we connect, a friction of pleasurable pain, and as he groans deep and primal, his thrusts becoming more savage, he releases a harsh curse. “Say it,” he demands.

  I know exactly what he wants. And in the instant our eyes meet, I know he needs it the way I needed to be taken by him tonight. I feel no shame when I utter the word; only desire. “Master.”

  His hands circle my wrists, pushing them above my head and pinning my arms to the wall. His body, corded taut and all muscle, slams against mine with his powerful thrusts. My cries sound out in sync with his groans as he takes me over and over, owning my body, claiming me as his.

  “You’re mine,” he says, his raspy words abrasive against my skin, then his mouth is on mine as he drives in deep.

  I feel the moment he breaks; his cock engorged and stretching my walls, his tongue delving inside to take every last bit of me as he presses me into the wall. He continues to rock into me as his thrusts slow, his labored breathing sexy as he buries his face in my neck. When he pulls out, hot semen trails my thighs as my feet hit the floor.

  I stand on wobbly legs, my skin and bones and muscles almost numb from exertion. But when he rests his cock on my belly, the feel of him hard and pulsing against me renews my craving for him.

  “Put something on before I fuck you again,” he says, the severe gleam in his blue eyes backing up his demand. “And I won’t stop with just one hole this time, temptress.”

  He pushes away from the wall, his cock still erect, his shadowed figure a beautiful, foreboding assurance of his avowal.

  My gaze follows his long and sure strides as he moves toward his desk. He snatches his shirt and then walks back toward me. With lust still flickering in the depth of his deep blues, he slides his shirt around me, guiding my arms into the sleeves. His scent envelops me, and I almost beg him to take me…to make me feel how desperately he wants me.

  But just as suddenly, exhaustion—my wreck of emotions and physical drain—overwhelms me, and I’m scooped up into his strong arms. I’m content to stay here, cradled within his embrace, but he soon sets me on the edge of the desk.

  I watch as he leisurely dresses, sliding on his boxers and slacks, his suit jacket left open to reveal his toned abs and the hard, sexy slab of V peeking above his pants. He pulls out his phone and says, “Jefferson,” into the mouthpiece. “Get the car ready.”

  I take in all this with a calm I shouldn’t possess—a calm that’s eluded me for years. Even as he again takes me into his arms, carrying me out of his office as if I’m his possession, dreadful awareness doesn’t hit until we’re passing the conference room.

  “The party has long been over,” he assures, a hint of a smile on his face, flashing that slight dimple in his cheek. He peeks down at me. “Although I rather enjoy feeling you squirm. And the pretty blush on your face.”

  That only intensifies the heat creeping up my neck. But I’m relieved no one will see my ass just hanging out in the open as he carries me toward the bank of elevators, and that relief depletes the last of my energy.

  By the time we’re seated in his town car, his arms still locked around me and holding me securely against his chest, my eyes are closing. And as the car pulls away from the curb, I know I should ask many things: where are we going? Why are you holding me? What happens between us now?

  Only I fall asleep as his fingers glide through my hair, assuaging any doubt and fear of the future away.

  6

  Contempt

  Chase

  To the ill informed amateur, owning a person may appear to be the ultimate power trip. And indeed, there is a rush like no other when you take complete dominance over a life. There is, however, a mood dampening byproduct that turns most would-be Doms off.

  Responsibility.

  When you take on a submissive, it’s not all kinky, fetish sex and spankings…though there’s also the benefit of those, if that’s your poison. But rather, it’s understanding your role, your obligation to that sub. It’s not unlike having a child. The tantrums, the mood swings, the endless need of nurturing. It’s the reason why I’ve been reluctant to instate that role over anyone until now.

  I’m a selfish bastard. I know this even as I sit on the lounge in my bedroom, watching Alexis sleep. I’ve been warding off the urge to press my foot to her bare ass and kick her out of my bed since I first woke. It’s a reflex. Alexis is the first woman to ever share my bed.

  Even in hotel rooms and my own personal room at The Firm, I’ve never allowed any woman to stay the night. They’re dismissed as soon as their services are no longer desired.

  So I understand why the urge is even greater here as her hair splays over my pillow, her naked body curled beneath my sheets. This is my domain, and she has invaded it. She doesn’t yet understand the rules, or even her place, and this needs to be rectified quickly.

  I steeple my fingers together, elbows to knees, brooding over just how to handle this delicate woman who has not only disrupted my life, but subverted my routine.

  Responsibility. It’s a fucking bitch. My anger rises as I consider how to repay the partners for forcing this situation on me.

  I rub the back of my neck, working out the stress gathering between my shoulders.

  It’s easy to see now that I’m looking right at it. My pulling rank with the partners wasn’t the sounding alarm. It was the reasoning behind my choice that revealed what they believe to be a weakness.

  And Alexis is their way to eke out more of that weakness.

  Was I tormented lusting after her every day, wanting what I couldn’t—or rather, shouldn’t—have? Absolutely. There may’ve come a time when my willpower—which was increasingly becoming stretched—snapped, and I hauled her over my desk and ripped her panties down. But it would’ve been on my own terms.

  I adjust myself through my jeans. Just the thought of it revives my hunger for her. And therein lies the proof that I couldn’t stop with just one taste. Rather, finally feeling her tight pussy hug my cock has only whet my appetite, and the craving to have her is stronger than ever.

  This spurs me off the lounge and reinforces my purpose. We may have been thrust into this less than desirable situation, unprepared and without first establishing guidelines, but I can still reap the benefits.

  I yank the covers off her.

  She doesn’t stir. Her slumbering body is soft and tempting. One knee pulled to her stomach, the other leg stretched out as she lies on her side, exposing her smooth
slit. Kneeling down next to the edge of the bed, I run my hand up her thigh, over her ass, then rub my finger along the silky lips of her pussy.

  She rouses beneath my touch. Breathing in her scent, I insert a finger, my eyes closing at the feel of how tight she is, how hot and wet, first thing in the morning. I suddenly regret not slipping inside her while I was still under the covers—taking her slowly and feeling her squeeze me as she came in her sleep.

  Her eyes snap open, and I realize I’m pumping her pussy with my fingers, my breathing becoming ragged as my cock strains against my jeans.

  I pull out of her and climb on top, shoving her hands above her head and pressing them into the pillow. “Spread your legs.”

  There’s a slight tremble to her body, a desperate gleam breaking through her sleepy gaze as she takes in my bare chest, but she hurriedly obeys my command. Her willingness to instantly submit rather than to question excites me further, and I grind my cock against her as her body arches beneath me.

  I loathe that I’m this desperate to be inside her—that I could easily give in to this need and spend the day fucking her brains out. That resentment is an irritating seed in the pit of my stomach that forces me to pull back.

  Instead, I roam a hand down her body, memorizing her, reading her signals, as if she’s braille under my touch. Soon, I’ll know every spot that drives her crazy, every place that causes her pain. I’ll know how to evoke any emotion and action I desire from her with simply one touch.

  I push inside her, expanding her tight walls with three fingers and making her moan as her pelvis bucks off the bed. Just as quickly, I remove my fingers, denying her any pleasure.

  “Shower first, then we’ll discuss what happens next.” I release her and forcefully remove myself from atop her. When she doesn’t move right away, I lift her leg and give her ass a light swat. “Your reply should be ‘yes, sir’ before you do as told.”

  Her humiliation is tangible; my nose flares as she scoots off the bed before she even knows in which direction to go. I sink my teeth into my lip, physically stifling my need to grab her ankles, yank her beneath me, and revel in her embarrassment. She flaunts it like a taunting child with a new toy, wriggling her little ass as she hurries toward the bathroom.

  She’s trainable, but inexperienced. Honestly, had she not fallen victim to my chide, I’d have loved to go down on her with a firm tongue lashing to bring her to the brink, leaving her aching for the rest of the morning.

  As it is, I take deep breaths, my chest heaving as I wrap my hand around the ridge of my cock and squeeze, quaking from the violent throb.

  The sound of the shower cutting on gives me incentive to move, uncomfortably, toward the box I had Jefferson bring up. I lay it on the bed with a note and then head toward the kitchen. It was short notice, as I didn’t plan to bring Alexis back to my place when I left for the party, but Jefferson was able to get a few things here early this morning.

  That alleviates some of the stress, offering a smidge more control, and I go through the motions of preparing breakfast and coffee with less tension gripping my shoulders. The task keeps my mind busy so I’m not as tempted to storm the bathroom and pin her against the shower wall.

  I hear the timid pad of her feet before she enters the sitting area. From my peripheral, I take in her drenched hair and wet skin. She’s clad only in a white towel. I grit my teeth and beat the eggs harder.

  “The room down the hall on the left is yours when you’re here. There’s a closet with clothes I’ve selected for you, so any choice will please me.”

  “I think I made a mistake,” she says, her trembling evident in the quiver of her voice.

  I drop the fork and turn to face her, wondering if she’s shivering from the chill of her wet skin or fear. Both are equally arousing, and I have to grip the counter to keep from marching over and tearing her towel away. “And why do you suddenly feel you’ve made a mistake?”

  My gaze is drawn to the forced swallow along her slender throat. “This…” she says, bringing out the gift and instructions I left on the bed. “And all this—” she fans a hand through the air “—it’s too much. Too fast. It’s not me…not what I thought… I should leave.”

  I move then, my quick and heavy steps loud in the steel kitchen. She shies away once I’m standing before her. “Then your choice is to leave the law firm, I assume.”

  Her brows draw together, a glimmer of anger rising to the surface to color her cheeks. “Right now, the only threat I feel is from you,” she says, raising her chin.

  My own eyebrows raise out of surprise. I cock my head and study her, trying to decide if her sudden show of bravado is due to fear or embarrassment. Maybe the anal plug should’ve been given to her later, after we discussed things. Damn. This process would’ve gone much smoother had I had the time to approach her on my own terms.

  Tugging the towel higher, she takes a backward step. “I’m not sure if you’re trying to scare me for your own pleasure, or…I don’t know why.”

  Knowing she’s deducing her own ideas of me brings a smile to my face. She’s curious. And her curiosity reveals that she has no desire to leave.

  I return to the bowl and flip the stove burner on, then begin beating the yolks. “How do you take your eggs?”

  Her exasperated huff makes my cock twitch. “Don’t you know?”

  The glare I send her makes her head lower a fraction. “Careful, temptress.”

  “Well,” she says, “you seem to know everything else about me.”

  I let a smile slip as I add salt to the eggs.

  “So you’re just twisted, then. You were only saying that last night to get into my pants,” she says, forcing the issue.

  This, however, isn’t as entertaining. I pour the mix into the pan with gritted teeth. “Omelet it is. And no, Alexis, I may be many things—things that frighten, intimidate, and even intrigue you—but a liar isn’t one of them.” I look at her, my gaze dragging over her sultry form. “Do you regret last night?”

  Her mouth parts, but she doesn’t respond right away. “I’m not sure.”

  I crook a smile. “Are you an adult? Did you consent as an adult last night?” At her nod, I continue. “Did you get wet in the shower when you thought about us?”

  The pink hue that splashes her cheeks is all the proof I need.

  “Then you’re only saying this now because you think it’s the proper etiquette, the way a woman is supposed to behave.”

  “No. That’s not why at all,” she retorts.

  “Yes, it is. And if we take this relationship further, I’m going to tell you right now: this behavior gets tiring real fast.” I flip the omelet and then move closer to her. “I might be amused by it some of the time, in certain scenes, but I prefer for you to get past this vapid indecisiveness from the start. As much as I enjoy your self-effacement, your choice to be my submissive—your being aroused by it—is the one, sure thing you don’t have to be ashamed of.”

  There’s a spark in her eyes, a connection she senses in my statement, even if she doesn’t want to admit it’s true. Society does a number on women of all generations. Luckily, Alexis won’t suffer that tragedy for long. Once she accepts there’s no real reason to feel any guilt, that is.

  With a slight nod, she says, “You didn’t clarify why I’d have to leave.” Her eyes hold mine.

  And just like that, my temptress accepts her place with me. She’s more than perfect, and I’m more than tempted to free her of that infuriating towel and reward her.

  Not yet. Rules first.

  As I return to the stove, I say, “Wells had every intention of advancing you last night. If he passed on the opportunity, I have no doubt that another partner would’ve eagerly approached you soon enough.” I push the omelet onto a plate. “Go get dressed.”

  Confusion mars her pretty face as she shakes her head. “You keep saying that as if it’s a bad thing; advance me. Isn’t that what’s supposed to happen after a year of being with the same firm
?”

  My scowl deepens. “This doesn’t get discussed further until you’re dressed. Otherwise, I’m going to be forced to tear that towel away and fuck you against the damn floor.”

  Her eyes widen at my threat, but she doesn’t leave, and I’m all too happy to back it up—my cock already rising to the occasion.

  “Down the hall to the left?” she asks.

  Burying my disappointment, I nod. It’s best to get the technicalities out of the way before either of us commit. Last night was beyond my expectations, and now I’m unable to come to terms with losing her so soon.

  Not before I’ve had my fill.

  And that’s all it is, really. A year of desiring one woman has effectively fucked with my head, and the only solution is to fuck her right out of my system. Had I just bent her over my desk months ago…there wouldn’t be any danger now.

  For that, I take responsibility for our predicament.

  I set a cheese omelet on the table for myself and then go to set her plate on the floor. Reconsidering, I set her a place at the seat next to mine. Normally, this would never happen, but as we’re only now negotiating, it’s what’s best.

  Again, I feel the frustration at having my routine disrupted. But that was the point, wasn’t it? One of them wants to make a play for the power seat of the practice, and I revealed my Achilles’ heel.

  Gannet set the board, and Wells initiated the move. My counterstrike needs to determine which one of them is trying to distract me. It’s unlikely they’re working together, as men in our position don’t share power easily.

  As if I need any more proof of their tactic, my gaze is drawn to Alexis as she enters the room. She’s going to be a lethal distraction. The dress she’s chosen to wear wreaks more havoc on my control than the damn towel. Sheer black material hugs her body, revealing everything, including her thong and bra.

  “That dress is meant to be worn alone,” I state, my gaze unwavering, taking in every bare inch of her legs and the dramatically low neckline. “Without undergarments.”