by May, Linnea
Not with him, though. He instantly grabs my wrist and pushes it down, forcing my arm behind my back while pulling my head back by my hair with his other hand.
Our kiss stops and he looks at me, quietly searching for confirmation while I just stare up at him helplessly. I am panting and my accelerated heart rate is no longer a secret, even without the strap around my arm that enables a telltale number on a display.
He leans forward and seductively bites my lower lip before wandering lower, his tongue wandering along the side of my neck while I moan and quiver beneath him.
"You're so fucking delicious," he whispers as he bites into my skin.
I gasp for air, my eyes widened in disbelief.
But just as I am beginning to relax and let go of my dumbfounded stiffness, he stops.
He pushes himself away from me and stares at me with the same confusion that I must have displayed most of the evening.
"No," he says. "I am sorry, Ava. But this is not okay. I shouldn't have-"
"Yes," I interrupt him. "It is okay."
I blush when he looks at me questioningly.
"I mean, I... I don't object. I would like to..." I try to explain.
He shakes his head.
"You are my client," he argues. "This is highly unprofessional and I should never-"
"So what," I interrupt again. "I sure as hell won't tell anyone!"
He chuckles while I bite my tongue. What a delicate choice of words.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"
"It's all right," he says. "But still. I have rules. And I am very fond of my reputation."
I sigh. "I won't be your client for long. I am not even a member of this gym!"
He looks at me, pondering.
"You do have a point," he admits. "And you're endearing to me, Ava. A lot more than you can imagine. But you have no idea what you would be getting into with me."
"I would like to have an idea, though," I say, trying to master a confident smile.
His gaze darkens. He quickly checks the door. We are alone, secluded from everyone else, and - assuming that there are no cameras in this room - safe from the eyes of others.
"Look," he says. "Even if we put that whole client problem aside, I am not sure it would be fair to lure you into something you might not want, despite the vibes I have been receiving from you."
"Vibes?" I ask, furling my eyebrows. "And what is it you're afraid to 'lure me into'?"
His eyes narrow as he looks down on me, but he doesn't say a word.
"Not here," he says. "I like to separate work and fun."
He looks at me intently, observing my reaction.
"Fun," I repeat.
"Yes, fun," he says. "Would that be a problem?"
I'm not sure if I understand what he is trying to say. Does he fear that I am one of those girls who fall in love with every man they have sex with? Is this one of those 'I want to fuck you, but don't want a relationship with you' deals?
"I am not looking for a boyfriend right now," I say. "If that is what you mean."
"Not exactly," he says.
He checks the door again while I look up at him expectantly, waiting for an explanation.
"You like to be given orders, don't you?" he asks, looking back at me.
I am startled by the question and don't know what to say.
"When I tell you to do something, to pull through even when you feel you cannot take any more, you usually follow," he explains. "You suddenly find the strength to pull through, often surprising yourself."
I ponder for a moment, trying to figure out where he is going with this.
"I guess you could say that," I admit eventually. "But what does that have to do with-"
"Everything," he interrupts me. "It has everything to do with it."
He takes a step back and grabs me by the shoulders, assessing me from head to toe before he continues to speak.
"You need to know one thing about me," he whispers. "I take pleasure from obedience and submission. It is what I do, what I enjoy. But it only works for me if the submissive part is enjoying herself as well."
"Oh," I say, slowly beginning to understand.
"Do you understand what I am saying?"
"Yes, I think so."
"And what do you make of it?"
I lower my eyes, uncertain what to reply. He is damn hot. Irresistibly hot. I have never had a guy like him show any interest in me.
But would I be up for this? I have never sexually submitted to a man before, but only fantasized about it. There is a scary component to it and now that the opportunity presents itself in front of me, the potential outcome scares me.
Yet, the way he has been handling me, the way he talks, the way he looks at me... it has only added to my fascination with him.
This could work. This could be really, really interesting.
For me, at least. I still don't see why he appears to be so enticed by me. If one would ask me about my biggest fear in regard to this, I would probably say that it is to disappoint him. I don't want that to happen, I really don't.
I should bring this to a good start, show him that I am not only willing to play by his rules, but that I am eager to do so.
I decide to risk making a fool of myself and opt for a gesture instead of a simple promise. Actions speak louder than words, isn't that what they say?
I look up at him. His gaze is dark and expectant, but his eyebrows raise when I wink at him and slowly sink down on my knees before him. I have no knowledge of proper positions for this, even though I know they exist. But I hope for this simple act to be enough for him to understand that I am all his.
We don't lose eye contact even for a second, and by the time I have placed myself on my heels, I am the one who looks at him expectantly, waiting for a reaction, an understanding.
The corner of his mouth rises.
"Good girl."
CHAPTER 9
The words send a shiver down my spine. Yes, that is what I want to be. His good girl. I want to make sure to hear that phrase as often as possible.
He offers me his hand to help me get back up on my feet.
"What do you say we relocate today's session to a different place," he suggests. "And spice it up a little."
I cast him a naughty smile. "I would love to."
"Are you sure?" he asks.
"Yes, very much so," I insist.
Derek nods. "Good."
He lets go of my hand and turns around to walk to the other end of the room, where he has placed his bag. He rummages in it and gets out a pen and a tiny notepad.
"If you don't mind, I would prefer if we left this place separately," he whispers while he writes something down on the pad. "And go to a place that is safe and anonymous."
"Yes, sure, I understand," I say.
My heart is fluttering. I like the secrecy that surrounds this. He may be done with me after this one night - even though he never said anything in that regard - but whatever we will have tonight is going to be amazing, special and spiced with conspiracy.
I am smiling like a silly school girl when he hands me the note. There is an address written on it and the name of a hotel. It's not just any hotel, but one of the best five-star places in the city.
My jaw drops as I read it. I had completely forgotten about the fact that he is loaded. Of course, it only comes natural to someone like him to think of a place like this.
"Do you not feel comfortable about going to a hotel?" he asks, placing his strong hand on my left shoulder. "Does it make you feel weird?"
I look up at him, trying to find the right words. "No, it's just that-"
"Or does it make you feel like a sexy slut?"
I gasp for air, blushing at his indecent words. "What?"
"Because that's what you are going to be from now on," he adds, leaning forward to place a gentle kiss on my trembling lips. "My cute, sexy little slut. As eager and obedient as you have shown yourself a few moments ago."
He straighte
ns up, his eyes never leaving mine. The intense way he is looking at me in combination with his forbidden words causes a reaction within me that is new in this form. He electrifies my center without even touching me.
"Is that what you want?" he reaffirms, sensing my worry. "To be my little slut, my beautiful plaything? To be used and spoiled by me the way I see fit?"
I nod quietly.
"Then what is it that keeps you so unraveled right now?" he asks.
You, I want to scream. But I know he is not addressing my obvious mesmerization right now.
"It's just that..." I utter, lifting the note. "This is quite an expensive place and I-"
"You will not worry about that tonight," he interrupts me. "That is an order. You will not worry about money. Do you understand?"
"But-"
"Do you understand?" he repeats insistently.
I sigh in defeat and nod. "Yes, I understand."
"Let's try addressing me properly," he says. "You will call me Sir from now on. And when I ask you a question or tell you to do something, you will answer by saying 'Yes, Sir'."
I nod, smiling. "Yes, Sir."
"Good girl," he praises, sending my heart into another turmoil. "Now get changed. There will be a cab waiting for you outside. Get in and tell the driver to bring you to this address."
He takes a step back and removes his hand from my shoulder.
"When you get there," he adds, "take a seat in the lobby and wait for me."
"All right," I say.
He raises his eyebrows. "All right?"
"Oh!" I exclaim, realizing my mistake. "Yes, Sir, I mean."
"You better remember that," he warns. "There is going to be punishment for each time you forget."
I know he is trying to frighten me, and it works perfectly, but the naughty part inside of me cannot help but wonder about that punishment. I am sure it will have some taste of sweetness to it.
~~~
I sneak out of the gym as quickly as possible, checking my back as I head towards the cab that is waiting in the parking lot. It's ridiculous, really, because no one is paying any attention to me. I don't know anybody here except for Derek, and when I leave the facilities, the ladies at the reception barely even look up to wish me a good night.
I hand the note to the driver and try to act as cool as possible while he studies it. For some reason, I fear that he might ask me questions that I couldn't answer.
Of course, he doesn't. Why would he? He just nods and drives off unerringly.
When we reach the driveway in front of the hotel and I make a move to pay the driver, he stops me with a wave of his hand.
"You're good, this has been paid up front," he announces.
"Oh," I reply. "Thank you."
He smiles at me and nods and I get out of the car.
I have to take a deep breath before I enter the hotel. I cast a shy smile at the concierge who opens the door for me just as I am about to grab the handle myself.
I feel so out of place. The reception hall alone is so much more extravagant and lavish than any building I have ever entered. The light marble floors and walls are topped with golden details at the doors and window frames. Ornamental stucco decorates the high ceilings and thick, heavy curtains in dark red frame the giant entrance door.
I remain at the entrance for a few moments and look around, taking in the flamboyant appearance of this costly place. Despite my efforts to act as natural as possible and to give the impression that this is nothing out of the ordinary for me, I cannot help but feel utterly lost.
It would be easier to act and feel as if I belonged if I had been prepared for this. If I was wearing one of my fancier getups, combined with nice evening makeup. Instead, I am in my everyday clothes, wearing nothing fancy but my office outfit and carrying my heavy workout bag around my shoulders.
I sigh and ponder what I should be doing now, since I don't see Derek around. Just as I decide to head toward the seating in the lobby to my right, I spot him.
Derek is approaching me with wide, confident steps. He must have been waiting in the hall, but it is no surprise that I did not notice him at first because, unlike me, he adapted to the environment. He is wearing a black suit that flatters his broad shoulders perfectly. His hair is combed to the side and his outfit is topped with a dark silver tie.
"Oh my god," I gasp, instantly blushing as he takes my hand to welcome me. "How on earth did you do that?"
He laughs. "Do what?"
"You... you look so different," I utter. "How did you change this quickly?"
"It's easier and less time consuming for a man to dress himself up," he argues, shaking his head. "Wouldn't you agree?"
"Yes, but...," I whisper. "I mean, look at me. I feel so out of place, especially next to you."
"Don't worry," he retorts, leaning down to me, his eyes narrowing. "You won't be wearing any clothes as soon as I have you all for myself, baby girl."
I blush.
"Come," he says. "And give me that."
He takes my heavy workout bag, swinging it over his shoulder as if it weighs nothing, and leads me towards the elevators, his steps wide and determined. He pushes on one of the uppermost buttons and grimaces with dissatisfaction when we are joined by an elderly couple.
I can feel his eyes on me the entire time we are enclosed in the small elevator, but I don't look back at him. This is so unlike me. I am usually the sassy one, the girl who seduces the man and tries to convince him of her worth. I have never had a man express this much hunger for me. This is so new, so surreal still.
The elderly couple gets out two floors before us and they are not replaced by anybody else. As soon as the doors close, Derek turns around to me and pushes me against the wall, planting his lips on mine as he greedily claims me.
There's hardly enough time for me to even react to his sudden intrusion, but by the time the doors open to our floor, I am breathing heavily and having trouble following his decisive steps as he drags me outside.
We walk along an elegantly lit hallway with dark red carpet and the same shining gold details that were present in the hallway downstairs.
The corridor is not very long, a lot shorter than I expected. Derek aims for one of the last doors on the right and produces a card to open it quickly.
I gasp with wonder when he beckons me to walk through the door behind him. I expected a beautiful, lavish room, but this exceeds everything I could have imagined. First of all, it's not a room but a suite. We are standing in a living room with lavish furniture in warm colors. A sofa with dark red fabric and two armchairs in the same style are placed in the far left corner of the room next to a bar table that is equipped with all kinds of drinks, a shaker and different kinds of glasses. The entire room is held in the same colors as the hallway and the reception of the hotel. Light walls with high ceilings and elaborate stucco, a dark red carpet that matches the furniture and golden details at the door that presumably leads to the connected bedroom.
"Wow, this is...," I utter, slowly stepping forward. "Too much."
Derek steps behind me and places his hands on my shoulders.
"You delicate little flower," he whispers. "I want nothing but the best for you tonight. This is not too much, trust me."
This must be a dream. This cannot honestly be happening right now. Just a few weeks ago, I was standing at our office's Christmas party, stuffing my face with mini quiches as I got handed a present I never asked for.
Never in a million years would I have expected anything even close to this. To say that I am overwhelmed would be the understatement of the year.
"Get yourself fresh and comfortable," Derek says behind me. "There's a bathroom with everything you need next to the bedroom."
"Thank you," I say, and he pinches me in the arm.
"Sir," I correct myself. "Thank you, Sir!"
"Good girl."
I make my way through the door, behind which I assume is the bedroom.
"Oh, and Ava," Derek says be
fore I walk through the door. "I want you to wear nothing but the black silk robe when you get out. Absolutely nothing underneath. Understand?"
"Black silk robe?" I ask.
"You'll see," he says, nodding towards the door.
The bedroom is just as grandiose as the living area, with a giant bed in the middle, dark red sheets topped with golden pillows.
I should not be surprised to find the bathroom decorated with white marble entirely, but somehow, I still find myself gasping like an idiot. A big shower cabin next to a ridiculously big bathtub make up most of the room that is bigger than my own bedroom.
The black silk robe Derek was referring to is hanging next to the door, presented like an evening dress. I smile as I stroke along the costly fabric.
I took a shower at the gym, but decide to pamper myself with the products that are laid out for me here, if only to make sure that I feel as comfortable as possible with my body when I present myself in front of him.
I stand in front of the large mirror above the sink and give my naked and well-smelling body one last check before I slip into the black robe. The material feels so soft and comfortable, I wish I had one of those at home. It is not very long and barely covers my naked behind, but I am sure that is how it was intended by him.
I am glad he didn't ask me to come out completely naked and exposed from the beginning. Even stepping in front of him like this, with only the thin robe covering my nakedness, is a little awkward, especially since he is still fully dressed when I return.
He is standing next to the bar table, still in his perfectly well-fitting suit, holding up two glasses of champagne as he turns around to me.
"You look wonderful," he compliments me, handing me one of the glasses.
"Thank you, Sir."
We clink glasses and I am afraid that my sip of the relaxing liquid is a lot bigger than his.
Derek does not show any sign that he notices, but puts his glass down as soon as he has tasted the champagne.
"Now," he says. "I know you need some time to get comfortable, so I won't ask of you what I really want, but we will start slowly."
I look up at him, tilting my head to the side as I try to process his words.
