A Date With A Dom: Prelude to Requested Surrender

by Murphy, Riley

  K.

  Lacy?

  Yes.

  No getting yourself off. No matter how much you may want to. Understand?

  She did and the knowledge made her wetter.

  Yes. You don’t want me to touch myself until you give me permission.

  No. I don’t want you to touch yourself again until after I’ve had the privilege. The next fingers to sink into that wet flesh will be mine. Understand?

  Thank God she didn’t have to speak. She was sure the words would have gotten caught in her throat. She shivered.

  Yes.

  She was just about to put her phone down and go make sure that Joe had left when her cell vibrated again.

  Lacy?

  Yeah?

  I’ll be by tomorrow at six to pick you up for dinner. I’ll be bringing another package with me. We’ll discuss what’s inside over dinner.

  She gulped.

  K.

  No yelling though.

  She sent a smiley face even though she wasn’t feeling it. Dealing with the collar and him via texting was one thing. Having to talk about whatever he had in the package he’d brought with him tomorrow over dinner was quite another. Wasn’t he supposed to be The Quiet One?

  She was still thinking about having to talk to him about this a half hour later as she stripped off her clothes and put on the collar. The leather was weighty and cool against her skin. The feel and texture of it commandeered her attention. Making her focus in on the moment instead of their upcoming tête- à-tête.

  Two minutes into her five minute deadline she knew she was in trouble. She couldn’t think of anything, but David. The heat of his eyes. The steel of his voice. The power in his hand. His strong fingers… She groaned.

  I don’t want you to touch yourself again until after I’ve had the privilege.

  She snapped open her eyes and stared at the ceiling. “Unbelievable.”

  Suddenly “the tomorrow night” she’d gone into this dreading, couldn’t come fast enough for her.

  Their Second Dinner Date

  David thanked the waiter who’d delivered their drinks and then zeroed in on Lacy. “Were you a good girl? Did you keep your hands off my pussy?”

  Her eyes widened and she gasped as she shot a look around the restaurant, before her glassy-with-embarrassment gaze pinned him. “Have you no shame?”

  “No I do not.”

  “I guess I shouldn’t be surprised.” She picked up her martini and cheered him, taking a larger than average sip of it. More in way of a gulp before she blew out a breath as if cooling her tongue. “But let me share this with you. If you want to get into my pants I’d refrain from using the term ‘good girl’. It’s demeaning.”

  “But you’re all right with me claiming your pussy? Good to know.”

  She plunked her glass down so hard some of the Kettle One sloshed over the rim. “I never said that.”

  “You didn’t have to. How was your day today?” He took a slow and measured mouthful of his Southern Comfort while he waited for her answer. Choosing to use her loss for words as an opportunity to study her. After a cursory examination he came to the conclusion that Lacy was a woman who wanted to keep it together. She could probably succeed in that endeavor too, if she had faith in herself. A modicum of faith that she was lacking at the moment.

  “Why do you say things like that?”

  He put his glass down and stared right at her. “Because I can.”

  What little faith she had she was mustering, he could tell, as she set her elbows on the table and leaned forward with eyes devilishly sparkling. “I can say things too, you know.”

  “Go ahead.”

  “See that box?”

  Of course he’d seen it. He was the one who brought it. He inclined his head and was in the middle of taking another mouthful of his drink when she quipped.

  “I could have your dick in that box like this— she shot forward and snapped her fingers under his nose so fast he blinked— “if I wanted to.”

  He almost choked and then managed to get the liquor down. Returning his glass to the table he grinned. “You’ve got guts, but even those can’t help you to pull off the impossible. My cock wouldn’t fit in there.”

  “Yeah, well neither would your ego.” She waved him off with a snort. “It’s a freaking shoe box, for Pete’s sake, and by my estimate a man’s size eleven, maybe?”

  “Twelve.”

  “I rest my case.”

  “You haven’t even stated it yet. Should we call Justin Timberlake and ask him how he got his dick in a box?”

  She eyed him over her glass. “So you saw that SNL skit, did you?”

  “Are you going to tell me?”

  She shrugged and he held back an exasperated breath. He hated when women didn’t commit and to him that’s just what a shrug suggested.

  “I wouldn’t want to spoil the evening. Which, by the way, is happening entirely too soon. I thought we agreed to once a week. This is twice in as many days.”

  She took a sip of her drink and made a face that said she was savoring every drop of it. Such a brat. “Don’t try and change the subject, and believe me, if I thought you had an answer for me I’d press you on it. Knowing that you don’t, I’ll let your little fantasy about caging my dick go. As for this dinner date? My schedule is pretty full next week. The only free time I have I’ll be heading out of town to drop someone off somewhere, so I’m using my night for next week tonight.”

  “I didn’t agree to that.”

  “You didn’t disagree either.”

  She fell back against the brocade covered booth rest and speculatively eyed him. “What else didn’t I disagree with?”

  “I’d tell you, but I don’t want to spoil the evening.”

  “All right.” She reached out and tapped one of the loops of the bright red bow. “Then why don’t you tell me what’s in the box?”

  He leaned forward and lowered his voice saying, “I’d rather show you. Come here.” Nodding to the space next to him on his side of the booth, he gave her his best ‘I dared you to’ expression and added, “I think you’ll like it.”

  It was as if she didn’t give the decision to scoot out from her side of the table and step to him a second thought. Standing, he moved so she could slip into his side of the booth. When he followed her in and they were both settled, he curled down and whispered in her ear, “I like your dress. What was with all that talk about ‘if I wanted to get into your pants’? You aren’t wearing any. Lucky me.”

  She didn’t look up, only kept her eyes glued to the box as she whispered back, “Show me.”

  Even though he knew she was referring to the contents of said box he figured he had an opportunity here. Waving the waiter off when the server looked as if he was going to come take their order, he moved closer to her. “Are you sure you want me to do that?”

  She nodded and then stiffened when he splayed his hand on her thigh and squeezed. Slowly, so very slowly he slid his hand up until his wrist met her dress hem.

  “David?” Her tone was low, but her voice firm. “What are you doing?”

  “Showing you how lucky I am that I don’t have to fight to get into your nonexistent pants.”

  “We’re in a restaurant.”

  He inched his hand up higher. Pulling her leg toward him. “I know.”

  “People could be watching.”

  He continued to tug so she couldn’t close her legs. “Let them.”

  She put both palms on the table and tried to lift herself away from his touch. “The waiter could come back.”

  Damn he liked it when she squirmed. Turning, he leaned down and tilted his head while he searched and then found a warm and naked spot of flesh on her neck. A sensitive patch of skin just behind her ear. Softly sucking and nibbling on it until she gave up trying to escape him with a resigned sigh.

  “That’s better,” he spoke against her temple. “Let me worry about what’s going on around us while you pay attention to thi
s.”

  He shifted his hand in a better position now that she wasn’t resisting him, and went to work. Seven moves and he’d have her melting. Six if she were invested.

  Lacy’s palms mashed into the tabletop. She didn’t know how he’d done it. One minute he was sexily squeezing her thigh in promise and the next he had her thong pulled aside and his knuckle crushed against her clit. In and up he pressed and then held. The suspended sensation made her inner muscles clench with restless need as the lower half of her ached for him to do more. But then he did just the opposite as he eased off. Only for a moment before he pressed in again. Holding this time for several seconds. Then again for seconds longer until she forgot about what he was doing and paid attention to how she was feeling.

  Fuckable. So fuckable that she licked her lips and leaned into him for support. Breathless. Fragile.

  “Mm…,” he huskily purred in her ear. “Open. Hot. Wet. I bet you’re tight. Should I slip this into you and check?”

  The instant his finger teasingly rimmed her entrance, dipping close, but not close enough, she lost it. Her body shook as her inner muscles folded under the sublime tension, sending a rush of liquid warmth from her core to her center. “David…”

  “You’re too impatient, angel. Now I won’t know until next time.”

  Her eyes fluttered open and it took her a few seconds to assimilate where she was and what had just happened. When she did she was glad that he’d finished righting her clothes, but not very glad when his words managed to sink in. “You won’t know—?”

  He moved so fast she didn’t have time to even flinch. In the span of a heartbeat he had hold of her chin and tilted it until their eyes met. The heat in his gaze electric. “How tight you are.” There was utter stillness for a second or two as the air between them crackled and snapped with energy and then she had to fight to steady her breathing as he whispered, “Fortunately I’m a patient man. Do you want to see what’s inside the box now?”

  She didn’t trust herself to speak. Choosing to nod, she sat up straighter. And when she realized how slumped she been in the seat she was surprised she hadn’t slid right under the table when he was playing with her.

  With shaky hands she undid the ribbon and braced herself before she lifted up the lid. Just as he’d done with the collar he’d stuffed mounds of tissue paper for her to dig through. But once she parted the stuff to reveal what was inside, she frowned and did a mental head scratch.

  “Do you like it?”

  “Give me a second.” Plucking the object out, she examined it to make sure it was what she thought it was. Depressingly enough, it was. Oh well. She tossed her hair behind her shoulders and beamed up at him. “You shouldn’t have. Really it’s too much. I’m, well, I’m speechless.”

  “No.” His grin was a bright as her smile. “What you are is bratty. Don’t you like my gift?”

  She looked down at it with a dubious expression and then looked back up at him. “I don’t know where you come from, but in my neck-of-the-woods women get chocolate and flowers, not an egg timer.”

  “Clearly you’ve been deprived.”

  She would have said something to that, but the waiter came and took their order. When they were alone again she put the little white dial back in the box and shook her head. “I don’t even like eggs.”

  She was just about to ask him to move so she could go on the opposite side of the booth when his warm palm landed on her knee. The strength and weight of it made all her small muscles low and deep seize up with heated anticipation as he said, “Good to know, but you won’t be using the timer for eggs. You’ll keep it in your bedroom and use it when I tell you to.”

  Despite how the thought of that had her inwardly shivering and made her want him with a wickedly dark passion she’d never experienced before, she couldn’t let him say a thing like that to her. It was egotistical and all-male. As if she had no choice in the matter. “I may not want to.”

  He chuckled then and it wasn’t so much the fact that he did, as it was more the way he did that worried her. As though her pronouncement had been an adorable joke she’d fashioned just to please him. Folding her arms to act as a shelf under her breasts, she stuck her nose in the air, teed her shoulders and sniffed. “You’ll see.”

  “Correction.” He turned toward her and gently pulled her arms out their cross. “You’ll see. And don’t look so worried.” He brushed her hair back off one shoulder. “It’s going to fun, remember?”

  He was so close to her. So warm and strong and fuckalicious that she couldn’t remember her own name, let alone what they’d been talking about. All she could do is stupidly nod and hope that the action was an appropriate one. But then she figured it was when he curled down and spoke in her ear.

  “Very good. And, if you’re patient, next time I’ll be able to slide inside you. I already know how hot and wet you get. Now I want to know how tight you are—here.”

  His hand slipped under her dress again, when he possessively stroked the warm and moist part of her beneath her thong. Crazy though it seemed, the only response she could think to make was to turn and rest her forehead against his shoulder. He’d probably read all kinds of things in that move, but she didn’t care.

  Not until he said, “That’s my good girl.”

  Then she cared, but not for any of the reasons that made sense…

  The First Mistake

  David?

  He was in the middle of an important meeting but when he saw that it was Lacy he excused himself and stepped out into the hall to answer her. He texted back.

  I’m here. What do you need?

  I can’t do it.

  He leaned against the wall and brought one leg up, bending it so the sole of his foot was flat against the wainscoting.

  How hard did you try?

  It’s the pressure. That thing makes noise. It’s distracting.

  You’re not supposed to be paying attention to the egg timer. You’re supposed to get yourself off before the allotted ten minutes is up. What’s so hard about that?

  It sounds like mice with scratchy little feet skittering across the floor. Not very sexy.

  Watch some porn.

  What? That’s your answer to me having the female equivalent of an ED moment here?!

  Sure.

  I’m not speaking to you.

  He smiled. Yes you are.

  No.

  When he saw she’d included a silly looking smiley face only its eyes were lopsided and the mouth resembled a horizontal S, he sighed.

  What are you doing right now?

  Fighting with you.

  Funny…but we’re not fighting. You’re whining and I’m listening to you.

  If we weren’t fighting before we definitely are now.

  That made him laugh.

  Relax there, tiger. Let’s see if we can fix this.

  How?

  What are you wearing?

  The leather choker.

  Collar.

  Yeah, that.

  That’s it? He closed his eyes and lightly banged his head against the wall a couple of times. Was she trying to kill him? His phone vibrated and he read the text.

  No. I have my red and black patent leather Carlo Santana stiletto shoes on too.

  No trying about it. He loosened his tie and undid the top button of his shirt. With a deep breath he thought about how to attack this latest Lacy dilemma. Ever since the night at the restaurant last week, he knew she had no problem concentrating on him. What he hadn’t envisioned was her having problems concentrating when she was by herself. Maybe he’d introduced the timer too soon.

  What were you thinking about?

  Laundry.

  Was she fucking with him? What do you mean laundry?

  I was in the middle of doing a bleach load when you texted me those instructions.

  So?

  It’s hard to switch gears and with the mice pitter-patter, it’s darn near impossible.

  Lacy.

  Yea
h?

  He could almost hear the grumble in that word. Damn, he couldn’t backtrack now. He checked down the lengthy hall. Alastair’s receptionist was busy fielding calls. So one potential interruption was taken care of. Next he opened his attorney’s door and leaned in. “I’m going to be another couple of minutes, do you mind?”

  Alistair shook his head and then steepled his fingers before he rested his chin on them. David knew what that meant. The cheap bastard would remain on the clock and that being the case, David knew he could take all day as Alistair never came between himself and earning a buck.

  David? Hello?

  He closed the office door and then texted back. Hang tight I’m going to call you in a minute.

  He looked right and then left, deciding to go to the window at far end of the hall so he could formulate his plan. It was clear Lacy need his help this first time. The downside to that was he didn’t want her to get used to it, so he’d have to walk a thin line. Get her to a certain point and once she got there she’d have to do the rest on her own. He hoped. When he had a direction he was willing to take with her loosely mapped out, he called her.

  “Hi.”

  “I wasn’t whining.”

  He didn’t want to argue so he ignored that comment and asked, “Where are you?”

  “In my room.”

  “On your bed or…?”

  “I’m standing in front of my dressing mirror admiring my ass. It looks pretty perky. Do you want me to describe it to you?”

  Brat. He shook his head. “No, this isn’t an interlude designed to get me off. This is about you. Stop being cute and—”

  “You think I’m cute?”

  “Lacy.”

  “All right already. What?”

  “Go to your bed and put your cell down on the nightstand. Make sure you put it on speaker.”

  “K.”

  He heard rustling and her swear when it sounded as if she tripped over something before she screamed.

  “Done.”

  “Haven’t you ever used the speaker option before? You don’t have to shout.”

  “Now what?”

  “Better. Lie down and close your eyes.”

  “What about the egg timer?”