by Aline Hunter
The loss of his presence was gut-wrenching. She felt her stomach fold in on itself as he let her go, turned on his heel and walked away. She stood there as his heavy footsteps indicated he was going upstairs, staring down the hallway until the rush of water through pipes overhead indicated he was taking a shower.
Dear Heavenly Father.
Right now he was naked and climbing into steamy water. She imagined she was a bar of soap, drifting over his abdomen, outlining the indentions of his six-pack, drifting into the flaxen hair below…
Snapping out of her daze, she placed her purse on the floor, removed her coat and placed it alongside his. She walked down the hallway. Directly in front of her was a large set of stairs leading to the second floor. To the right was an open door. A pool table and television were visible from where she stood. To the left was a sizeable kitchen with stainless steel appliances, a large center island and stools placed discreetly beneath. His home was immaculately clean and notably masculine, with brown and black fabrics throughout.
It figured. Scott was a total slob without a maid to pick up the shit he left tossed around. Michael, who worked long hours and did his own laundry, didn’t so much as have a dirty sock or wrinkled towel in sight.
Walking into the kitchen, she peered into the formal dining room, which had an expensive dark wood table and matching chairs. The crystal bowl situated in the center of the silken runner was stocked with bananas and red apples.
Good lord. Who would have thought Michael had this kind of money?
Eventually she wandered into the entertainment room. The large pool table took up the center of the area and intricate stained-glass fixtures were situated directly above it. The large plasma television was affixed to the wall in front of a huge black leather couch. To the left of the room was an open door with stairs going down.
The entrance to the basement.
She walked over and studied the numerical pad above the knob. Excitement and curiosity warred with nervousness and uncertainty. What would he possibly have down there that would necessitate having a lock on the door?
“You know exactly what’s down there,” she muttered.
The way Michael looked at her when he warned not to shut the door behind her told her all she needed to know. No doubt his playroom was down there. The place he brought women to satisfy his dominant urges. Would it be like the ones she’d seen surfing the ’net? A dark, clinical-looking place? Or would it be warm and inviting, setting up some kind of a scene?
Temptation and inquisitiveness combined, battling for control over her sense of logic. Everything was so clean and tidy upstairs; surely it was the same below. How far did he take his sexual games? Was it a casual thing he did with a consenting partner from time to time? Or was the space special to him?
Listening for the sounds of the shower, she glanced at the ceiling. She had plenty of time to rush downstairs, take a peek to satisfy her curiosity and hurry back before he noticed. If she was quick enough about it, she could come back upstairs, pour a glass of wine and pretend she’d been waiting for him in the kitchen the entire time.
He never had to know.
She quietly tiptoed down the first set of stairs and took a right onto a shorter set. The cooler temperature struck her first, shocking her slightly. As she lifted her head and gazed into the large and open room, it took her a moment to properly compute what her eyes were seeing.
The walls were painted in a soft, muted cream, while the floor was a darker stained wood. All along the left wall, dangling from hooks, were floggers, whips and straps of various lengths. On a shelf just above them were dildos and plugs in an assortment of colors. Some looked like hers, while others flared oddly at the bottom or had an extension near the base that expanded upward. A bench made of wood and what appeared to be cushioned black leather was against the far wall, next to a large four-poster bed. A giant St. Andrew’s cross was bolted into the floor and ceiling on the right, the polished wrist and ankle restraints shining brightly in the space.
Directly in the center of the room was a large table with leather straps; the metal mechanical device beneath indicating it could be moved and shifted. Right above it was a huge mirror giving a full view of the table and room below.
She expected to feel shock or fear. Instead warmth spread throughout her body as she walked around the room. Starting at the left, she studied the floggers and devices on the shelves, slowly worked her way to the bed with the clean linens and matching pillows and finally made her way to the cross.
For a moment she imagined what it would be like to be naked inside the chilly room, the crisp air caressing her skin, whispering against her peaked nipples as her knees ached from the unyielding hardness of the wood flooring. She closed her eyes and pictured Michael standing above her, gloriously naked, his cock long, hard and ready. He’d tell her what he wanted, and she’d give it to him. There wouldn’t be fast foreplay followed by unsatisfying sex that lasted less than five minutes. Instead she would give, Michael would take and they’d spend hours exploring and tending to each other’s pleasure.
Her body hummed, going hot and tingly as images of him sliding that unrelenting velvet steel between her lips caused her to shiver. Would he order her to stay still? To keep her hands at her sides? Fuck her mouth instead of allowing her to pleasure him? Several of the stories that turned her on involved just that, and envisioning Michael doing so made her skin prickle in anticipation as her sex tightened.
As she opened her eyes, she stepped toward the table in the center of the room. She touched the red leather, the pads of her fingers skimming across the smooth and unmarred surface. It was firm enough to be uncomfortable, yet cushioned so that it could be utilized for a lengthy stretch of time. She wondered exactly how it was used, since it was long enough to rest her entire body on and high enough to be bent over. Leaning against it, she pressed her pelvis into the wood and rocked her hips.
This place was so unlike what she imagined. It wasn’t dirty or raunchy but was more of a lover’s haven where you could play out your wildest fantasies. The décor was tasteful, the colors creating a feeling of security.
Michael’s arm wound around her waist and, although she gasped, it was due to surprise rather than shock. It had dawned on her shortly after she came down the stairs that the walls were probably soundproofed, making the noises of the shower impossible to hear. Deep down she knew a wild, shameless and uninhibited part of her wanted him to find her here, was curious as to what he would say or do.
She trembled when his lips brushed the outer shell of her ear, quivered as his breath caressed her skin. His voice was husky and deep, the sound that of sheer sexual enticement. “I have two questions, angel.”
“O-Okay,” she stammered, finding it challenging to breathe with him so close, his nearness effectively trapping her in place
“Why did you run that night at Haddie’s?”
It was a fair question but still had the power to mortify her. She’d been foolish listening to Candice, treating Michael like some kind of sexual pervert only to discover through her own exploration and research that the notion of submitting to him captivated and excited her. Hell, it was a part of the reason she’d accepted Scott’s interest in her in the first place, in a pretense of attempting to be normal.
Normal. Now that was pathetic in hindsight. Who was normal anyway?
“Candice told me about…she said that…”
“Go on.” He nuzzled her neck, making it difficult to think clearly. “Tell me.”
“When I found out about the BDSM stuff—” She tried to put her thoughts in order but it wasn’t easy with the inescapable presence of the man behind her. “I was shocked and confused. I didn’t know what to do or how to feel, so I left.”
“Good girl. Now for my second question.”
She nodded, knees weak, heart racing. His mouth made solid contact with her earlobe, his lips gently pressing along the surface, sending ripples of heat to her pussy. He nipped at her e
ar and soothed the diminutive sting with flicks of his tongue, causing her to moan.
“Do you want to run now?”
Michael waited for her answer, cock hard and balls drawn tight. From the moment Lacey entered his home, he’d decided to push her and see if she was as willing as her eyes, body and mannerisms indicated she was. He’d noticed her fleeting glances in the truck, had been fully aware of the way she’d wrung her hands each time he’d glanced over and caught her studying him with a recognizable fire in her eyes.
Picturing her while he stripped naked and washed away the filth of wreckage and snow had driven him crazy. He had so many images in his mind of the ways he’d love to play with her, bring her to climax and sate the longing he’d experienced the last few weeks. He had hoped she’d come to his playroom, had prayed that she would take a chance despite his veiled warning of what existed in the basement.
Her reactions in the foyer had told him she wanted him. Her eyes had been cloudy, her breathing shallow. He’d known she had wanted to kiss him. She’d given him plenty of time to close the distance and capture her lips in a way that would lead to something more. Despite the urge, he had left her needy and confused and rushed to the shower. He took longer than necessary once he’d been nestled inside the safety of the bathroom, wanting to give her more time to explore and consider this side of her sexuality. The fact that she hadn’t bolted the moment she walked into the room told him she was interested but he wasn’t certain if it was curiosity or something more that intrigued her.
“No,” she finally answered, her voice low and raspy. “I don’t want to run.”
He felt the slight shaking of her body via the arm wrapped snugly around her waist, the weight of her breasts tempting him to strip her bare and keep her that way. He had to rein in his own impulses as he closed his eyes and imagined himself ordering her to undress as he watched. He wanted her to reveal herself slowly, removing her clothing piece by piece, and watch her fingers tremble as she tested and overcame her inhibitions.
“Do you want to play, Lacey?” he murmured thickly. “Do you want to stay and see where the night takes us?”
“I don’t…I mean…I think…” She took a deep breath, as though his question was the hardest she’d ever answered. Poor thing. She was obviously twisted in knots. “Yes,” she finally whispered, “I want to stay.”
“Then there are a few things you need to know.” He opened his eyes and pressed into her bottom, allowing her to feel the hard outline of his cock through the flannel pants he’d slipped on when he left the shower. She gasped but didn’t tense, remaining soft and pliant in his arms. “If you want to stop and talk about anything we’re doing, say yellow. If you don’t like what we’re doing, if something hurts in a way it’s not intended, or you want to end everything all together, say red. Do you understand?”
He felt her chest go still, her heartbeat palpable against his arm. As much as he hated giving her the option to leave or a safe word, he knew he had to.
“You can leave right now if that’s what you want. No harm, no foul. I won’t hold it against you. I can take you to town and we can forget this ever happened. The decision is entirely yours.”
“It’s just…it’s just that…I…”
He rubbed his jaw along her cheek. “I need you to be honest with me. Tell me what you’re thinking. That’s the beauty of this. There are always boundaries to push and limits to test but you have the final say. You understand that, don’t you? Without your absolute trust and consent, there is nothing for me.”
“I’m afraid.” Her words were feather soft but he heard them just the same.
He stilled, worried that he might have read her wrong. “What are you afraid of? Me?”
“No, not of you.” A hesitation and she confessed, “I’m afraid of feeling like this, of wanting these kinds of things.”
His dick became harder at the admission. Did this wet dream of a woman have a kink of her own? Could it be possible that the submissive tendencies he knew existed were rising to the surface? Or perhaps she wasn’t as green as he thought. Maybe it wasn’t fear of the unknown but experience in D/s that had sent her running from Haddie’s as though the devil were on her ass.
“Have you experimented in the lifestyle before?”
Inhaling deeply, she shook her head. “I only know about the things I researched online.”
His cock pulsed against her ass, the aching throb in harmony with the pulsing of his heart. She’d been researching BDSM online. Was that before or after she met him?
“What kinds of things?” She went tense in his arms and he gripped her firmly, pulling her into his chest as he warned, “No, Lacey. Don’t hide from me. You have the chance to explore, to learn what it is that you want, but only if you’re honest with me.”
He lowered his right arm and palmed her mound at the same time as he lifted the hand at her waist, cupped her breast and rolled his thumb across the nipple. The small point went hard against his fingers and the skin surrounding it pebbled.
“Things that I was raised to believe are wrong.” Her voice was throatier, sexier and laced with passion.
“There’s nothing wrong with wanting this. Everyone is different. There is no right or wrong when it comes to what you want and need sexually.”
Sliding his hand along her jeans, he deftly opened the top button and worked the zipper down. Her breath caught when his fingers skimmed across her quivering skin and flitted over her belly. He came to the edge of her lacy panties and paused for a moment before dipping below, seeking the prize within. She was completely bare, her pussy nothing more than skin, heat and a cock-rocking slickness. As much as he loved teasing soft curls, tender skin he could easily access made things a lot more pleasurable and interesting.
“You’re so wet, baby.” Carefully he slid his finger along the seam, following the outline of her labia, until his finger was coated in her cream. She groaned, shifting her hips. “You feel so good and ready for me. How can that possibly be wrong?”
He slid his finger into the slick mouth of her cunt, stifling a groan of his own when her pussy surrounded his finger in a satiny grip as he advanced until he was third-knuckle deep. She was so tight and hot, positively drenched for him. If her mind was saying no, her body was screaming yes.
“Michael.” She parted her legs when he rotated his wrist, searching for the sweet spot just inside her snug walls as he brought his thumb to her clit. “That feels so good.”
“Good girl,” he crooned, encouraging her. “Tell me what pleases you.”
He rotated his thumb around the nub, careful to keep his touch light, rubbing the pads of his fingers against that most sensitive inner velvet. Right now wasn’t about giving her release. It was about proving he could give her pleasure despite her reservations. He plunged into her depths gently, keeping firm pressure until he found the spot he was searching for. She rested her head on his chest, breathing loudly as he continued. He caressed her once, twice and pulled his hand away. He slowly slid his fingers from her heat and removed them from the confines of her panties.
“Why did you stop?” There was confusion, as well as hurt, in her voice.
He turned her around, bringing them chest to chest, and placed one hand on either side of her face. Her vibrant, emerald green eyes were glossed over and her lips were parted.
“I’m not a vanilla man. I’ve tried to maintain relationships with women who didn’t understand my need but they never lasted. This is a part of who I am. If you think that’s something you can handle, I’d love nothing more than to show you how wonderful it can be between us. If you can’t, it’ll be harder than hell but I’ll let you go.”
She hesitated, breaking free of her arousal. “Do you really want to tie me up and spank me?”
It was hard not to laugh at the way she said it, as if she were afraid of his response. He managed to keep a straight face. “Have you ever been tied up and spanked?”
She shook her head.
; “Have you thought about it?”
She started to nod and he stopped her. “Answer me.”
Her face turned a lovely shade of pink. “I’ve thought about it.”
“Does the thought excite you?”
Her cheeks went from pink to bright cherry-red.
Gorgeous.
“Do we have to talk about this?”
“Yes, we do.” Palming her cheek, he stroked the outer curve of her mouth. “I have to know what turns you on. This isn’t just about me. This is about us, achieving the greatest possible pleasure and satisfaction from each other.”
“Yes, it excites me.”
“And it scares you too, doesn’t it?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
Another lengthy silence and her eyes lowered until her gaze appeared to be focused on his nose. “Because I’m afraid to give you control, to let go of myself. I’m afraid to…”
“Trust me?”
“Yes.”
“You can always trust me. I’m not perfect but I’m always honest. No matter what happens here, you decide how far it goes. I give you my word.” He grinned. “And a little bit of fear is a good thing. It adds to the excitement.”
Her gaze flicked to his mouth. She focused on his lips, then her attention drifted back to his eyes. “Michael, will you do something for me?”
He grinned, unable to deny her. “Right now I’m yours to command.”
“Kiss me.”
It was harder than hell not to claim her lips as he wanted—harsh and demanding instead of gentle and fleeting—when he finally sampled her sweetness, offering her a few soft laps of his tongue instead of a full-blown assault. She tasted better than he’d dreamed, and her lips were softer than silk. He allowed a touch of rawness to overtake him for a brief moment, devouring her mouth as he held her face immobile in his grasp, asking her to accept this dominance from him if nothing else.
When he pulled away her eyes were closed and she was panting. Staring at her flushed face, he waited for her to look at him before he asked, “Will you let me show you, Lacey? Will you trust me to take care of you? Do you want to learn what it’s like to give control to someone else and let go?”
