by Christa Wick
He missed the smile, his gaze on her pussy. When he finally looked in her eyes, his expression had slid from intense to impassive. That, she knew, would be her punishment. She would come, no doubt, unable to resist his touch, but she would come alone.
He lifted a brow. “Have you been bad?”
Guilty, she chewed at her lip before answering. “I don't know. I don't make the rules.”
That earned her maybe half a point, but Griffin's smile never reached his eyes. He stalked toward her. Reaching the bed, he placed the package on the nightstand and reached for the hem of his shirt.
Seeing him about to undress, she started to roll onto her side, but he stopped her.
“Don't move.”
He made quick work of his clothes, every gorgeous muscle and inch of skin bare in less than ninety seconds. Placing one knee on the bed, he stretched his hand forward and ran his fingers along her slit. She was wet, sopping, the translucent cream thick and sticky. Her body signaled its readiness for his cock, fingers or hand.
Bringing his other knee onto the bed, Griffin pressed his hips against her side. His cock ran up to his navel, the thick rod hard enough to dent her flesh. One hand holding her by the hair, he ran the other over her ass, massaging the firm cheeks, tracing the red line of need between them. Bringing his fingers and thumb together, he teased the entrance of her cunt. She trembled, groaning as she sought to drop her head and arch her ass higher.
He kept her head held high, penetrating her with three fingers, adding a fourth, stroking over and over until his base knuckles were buried inside her and then half the length of his palm. He scrutinized every roll of her hip, the way her fingers clawed at the bedspread. Waiting until right before she would have flung herself past the point of no return, Griffin pulled out and smacked her hard on the ass.
A half spoken curse followed Katelyn's surprised yelp before she pressed her lips tightly together and waited.
“If I was a bastard, pet, you wouldn't be aching to have my fingers or my cock in you.” Seeing Katelyn glare at him from the corner of her eye, Griffin gave her another smack before smoothing his fingers along the stinging flesh. He worked his fingers back in, rotating them until she forgot she was being punished.
He landed another smack, harder than the others. Her sweet ass vibrated from the impact.
“Griffin…”
Her voice stuck somewhere between pain and pleasure, he knew he could bring her to climax by alternating the two. Reaching lower, he found the swollen pearl of her clit still hiding under the hood. He rolled it, nudged it left and right, his gaze on her hips as they tracked his movements. He felt the jerky throb of her clit, listened to her breathing, waited…waited…and then he squeezed, grinding down that little ball of pleasure between his thumb and index finger.
Katelyn gasped, her entire body locked in a straining quiver.
He kept the nodule pinched, his other hand releasing her hair to open the nightstand's drawer and remove a condom. He opened the package one handed and smoothed the latex down his erection while his other hand continued to tease.
He pinched, he rolled, attacked, retreated, keeping her right at the edge. She breathed in hard, moist pants, every muscle in her body tensed and trembling with anticipation.
Releasing his hold on Katelyn's clit, Griffin moved quickly behind her, gripped her hips and jerked her cunt onto his cock. Her hips tightened, fighting the freight train powering through her. When she threatened to buck beneath him, he drew her up, his fingers wrapping around her neck to lightly squeeze.
“Not yet, Kate.” He squeezed a little harder, enough to redden her skin without marking it. “My pussy, remember. You come when I say you can.”
“Yes.”
“You want to play games,” he said. Another squeeze, his lips against her neck as he slowly thrust in and out of her. “I want to train you. Incompatible goals, pet.”
“No games.”
She was gasping, so close to the edge he knew he could no longer deny her. Pushing her torso flat against the bed, he grabbed her ass, slid in deep and held. “Come for me, Kate.”
He slid out, back in again, every movement tight and slow, calculated to ensure she felt the heavy drag of his cock as her pussy lashed and coiled around his dick. He closed his eyes, letting himself feel each sensation in equal measure until the contractions in her uterus came hard and fast, magnifying those running through her cunt.
He watched her come, one side of her face pressed against the mattress and the other open to his inspection. Her eyes glazed over, her cheek as red as if he'd slapped her, the breath leaving her hard and fast. Her hips jerked, every muscle inside her tight channel tugging and milking his cock as she came.
He breathed with her, just as hard, just as fast, his body waiting to unleash until she cried his name. She did, raw and throaty. His balls jerked, his stomach clenching as his cocked reared up inside her and semen surged in thick pulses.
Griffin fell forward, catching himself with one hand against the mattress before his weight landed on her. He took a few settling strokes, breaking Katelyn down into a small series of whimpers and moans before he pulled free.
He rolled to his side and sat up. He took a second to rid himself of the condom then reached for his pants.
“Griffin…” She touched his arm, her hand hesitant and soft.
He didn't need to look at her to know her thoughts, but he did. She wanted him to stay, her gaze pleading. He wanted to kiss her, to roll her onto her back and fuck her with his chest sliding against those luscious breasts as he held her face in his hands and stared into her hazel eyes.
He wanted to be weak, to let her have power over him and surrender to the need clearly written across her expressive features.
Not happening.
Griffin slid into his pants, stood and quickly fastened them. When he looked back at her, a lone tear streaked her flushed cheek. He bent, cupped the side of her head and erased the moisture with a tongue-curling kiss against the spot. Then he dragged his shirt on and slipped into his loafers, stopping at the threshold of the door to look at her again.
He lifted his chin at the present. “Open it when I'm gone.”
“What's inside?”
She was stalling. The attempt normally would have made him smile. Instead, it only made him sorry he had to leave, so he answered her. “Something to make you cut and run or stay."
********************
Katelyn stared at the closed door, then the package, then the closed door. She stood up, paced naked around the room, her steps seemingly random but instantly veering away from the package whenever she came within a foot of it.
How could a gift do one or the other, but nothing in between?
Simple -- it couldn't.
Nothing in a box could do that…unless it was something weird like the decomposing head of his last lover.
Get a grip, Katelyn.
She marched to the nightstand. Reaching for the top ribbon, her hands stalled. He had told her to open it when he was gone. He was gone, but he didn't say how long she should or could wait. He could have been specific, he wasn't.
The choice was hers.
She snatched her hand back, reconsidered then tore the ribbon off. The gold-colored fabric pooled atop the nightstand's polished surface to reveal a white box with familiar markings. An upscale auction house, Alstrom's catered to the elite. Her last employer had used them to sell the art and antiques donated by the charity's more well-heeled benefactors.
No way in hell a box from Alstrom's could determine whether she left immediately or stayed the term of the contract.
It would not -- at least not that night.
Reaching past the gift, she touched the base of the bedside lamp, plunging the room into darkness. She crawled into bed, wrapping her arms around a pillow for comfort. The only scent on the bedding was hers. She was alone until Griffin wanted her company.
With that thought in her head, she fell asleep.
> ********************
The rest of Griffin & Katelyn’s story is available in Billionaire's Pet 2 and 3 or get Pet: The Collected Billionaire Domination and Submission Series. (Also available as audiobooks!)
Curves for Two
Georgia heat reflecting off the concrete surface of the ground and the aluminum hangar behind me, I waited in a crowd of children, parents and lovers. A flag in almost every hand, tissues in the other, the crowd watched as one being, its attention focused on the exit door of the airplane sixty yards away.
"Daddy!"
A pre-schooler's high pitched squeal a few feet away made my gaze jump from the door to the forward edge of the crowd. A little girl broke from the group in a sprint, her mother fast on her heels as the first man off the plane started running down the ladder.
More shouts of daddy, honey and baby followed as the initial trickle of men disembarking became a landslide. Feeling the tension vibrating through the two women next to me, I knew I was an outsider -- an interloper. I wasn't there as anyone's daughter, lover, mother, or even sister. Still, I had come at the request of my two childhood friends, Chase Winters and Roman Clark, and anyone who thought I should leave could kiss my double-wide butt.
"Is that Cha--"
"No." My gaze slid to the left for a second as I answered Laura Winters. The man who'd just stepped onto the ladder was half a foot shorter than Chase and, even at this distance, I could see a glint of red in his dark hair. A Cherokee mix like his mother, Chase's hair was pure black with a shine of blue when the light struck it just right.
"You're right. It's been so long."
Laura had started to twist the small clutch purse she held. Lightly wrapping my fingers around her wrist, I gave a gentle squeeze. "He's on the plane, Mrs. Winters. Don't worry yourself that he's not."
From my right, I heard a sharp intake of breath. I didn't look at Maxine Clark, preferred to avoid doing so whenever I could. Instead, my gazed jerked back to the sliver of door and the tall figure emerging. Seeing the unmistakable frame and dark bronze hair of Roman Clark, my heart did a little back flip, followed by a second somersault as Chase stepped out right behind him.
"There, see. Both of them." I squeezed Laura's wrist again, my cheeks flushing hot when I heard her wince from my excited grip.
Releasing her, I folded my arms across my chest, my hands cupping my elbows to control the shake dancing through me. It had been two years since I'd seen Chase or Roman and my stomach was twisting in hard knots with the knowledge that they'd soon touch me.
A kiss on the cheek, a hug, the rub of a hand along my bare arm -- all the little gestures that either one of the men might make. Seeing them now, the purposeful gaze as they walked toward me, was as good as a whisper in my ear that they would be my undoing, my complete downfall.
Not that I had much further to fall. I was twenty-six and divorced, living in a small southern town. Everyone from my parents to my Sunday school teacher to the town grocer had written me off as a lost soul.
Everyone except the two men walking toward me with hungry smiles across their handsome faces.
An indignant hiss rattled from between Maxine's lips as Roman kept his gaze on me.
"Same boys," Laura sighed, her tone wistful and without reprimand. She had her son back and in one piece. Nothing else mattered to her. She didn't care if he was zeroing in on me with that look in his eyes -- a look reflected in the gaze of his best friend.
Next to me, Maxine stiffened. "Exactly the same! At least his father isn't here for him to insult with this behavior."
Pressing my lips together, I felt my spine go rigid and my shoulders square back. Roman's father wasn't at the airfield to greet his son because George Clark was an asshole. He'd never forgiven his son for dropping out of pre-law to go into the Army. Even if he'd softened a little in Roman's favor, George downright despised Chase for joining first, knowing that Roman would likely follow.
From childhood, no one could separate the two. Far as I was concerned, it was a sin to try. That was exactly why I'd kept a certain distance from them after it became clear both were intent on pursuing me. Trying to choose would have been impossible enough, but knowing I couldn't love one without hurting the other and potentially turning them against one another made the whole scenario untenable.
Coming here today, I dared to hope they had outgrown their sexual interest in me. I wanted, and really needed, my best friends back. With their weekly letters growing more sedate and less ardent the past few months, I had nursed the hope it would finally happen. But there was no escaping the look in their eyes as they walked toward us.
Marching straight for me, the two men pivoted at the last second to wrap their arms around their mothers. Laura sniffled, her hands clutching at the front of Chase's ACU jacket. Even the normally cool Maxine melted on initial contact. Her eyes misted up and a quickly suppressed sob broke free. For a moment, she sounded like a real, live human being. Three seconds later, she was shooing Roman back, her cool façade firmly in place once more.
Smiling, Roman gave her a kiss on the cheek and then he turned to me. His gaze flicked right to find Chase unable to free himself from Laura's grasp. One hand still holding Chase's jacket, her free hand stroked his close-shaven head and the line of his shoulder.
Feeling the warm tickle of Roman's face against my cheek, I braced myself. One of his big hands dropped to my hip, the other gripped the side of my waist as he tugged me to him. "Got you to myself for a few seconds, beautiful."
His lips touched my ear before gliding down and to the right to land on my mouth. He tugged at my body again, cinching me a little closer. "Man, I missed looking at you."
A heart beat later, Chase elbowed him out of the way, his hands landing on me just as intimately, the kiss and tug a little harder, as was his nature. Feeling the firm press of his bottom lip, I knew he was fighting the urge to open his mouth, his tongue ready to tease me into a full kiss.
In a quick little maneuver, his fingers dipped into his pocket and then he cupped my elbow. His grip slid down to my hand to press a folded piece of paper against my palm before wrapping my fingers around it. Both men then turned back to their mothers.
They offered the women their apology in unison. "Sorry, but we're stuck on equipment watch."
Maxine scanned the surrounding soldiers, her mouth puckering indignantly. "I'll talk to your commanding officer about this!"
"Mom, no -- hell, I'll have equipment watch for a week if you do." Roman gripped her shoulders and looked straight at her, the inside corners of his brows lifting. It was a sure sign he was lying, but Clarks don't lie according to George and Maxine. "There are too many troops coming back this week for the base units to assign guards. And most everyone else has kids to go home to tonight."
He gave a pointed look at the little girl in her father's arms a foot away.
That almost stopped further protest, but not quite. Her gaze cut to Chase. "But, both of you?"
To my left, Laura Winters took a hard swallow but managed to keep her mouth shut. A quick glance at her hands confirmed it was taking every ounce of will power for her to stay quiet and not inquire why Maxine Clark's son should be allowed to go home for the night while her own kept guard.
"Four of us, actually," Chase answered. His gaze nailed me for a second before it dropped to my hand with the note tucked inside.
Mrs. Winters started to twist her clutch back and forth. "When..."
"After ten tomorrow," Roman answered. His eyes danced my way for a second before he amended his estimate. "Noon at the latest."
Both women nodded, receiving a last hug and kiss for the day as their reward. I stepped behind Mrs. Winters before Roman or Chase could close in on me again. My reward was two wolfish grins and the promise of trouble glittering in their eyes.
********************
By the time I made it all the way around Fort Stewart to my one-bedroom apartment in Glennville, I was in one hell of a state. The walk back to
the airfield's parking lot in the presence of Her Royal Highness Maxine Clark and her snide remarks about how awful the heat must be for a girl my size would have been enough to get my blood going on a good day, but when I finally opened the note Chase had slipped me and read it in the privacy of my Jeep, I was stripped of my last frayed nerve.
Meet us at Elma's at 8pm.
Elma's was a seedy joint about four miles west of the main gate, buried behind a line of trees off an old dirt road. It was one step below the Silver Dollar Lounge where the girls shake their naked titties on Thursdays and Fridays. The only thing Elma's had going for it in my opinion was that no one got naked there on a regular basis. Nor did anyone talk about having been there.
That level of secrecy meant my two best friends were up to no good.
I might have settled for just being annoyed at them lying to their mommas and dragging me into it, but the looks Roman and Chase had given me before walking away had my blood boiling over for an altogether different reason.
Racing from my air-conditioned vehicle to the dark, cool safety of my apartment, I locked the front door and headed straight for my bedroom. There was no way I was going to make it through a night of chauffeuring those two around to every bar and strip club in the tri-city area -- both of them no doubt trying something with me when the other wasn't looking -- without a little mechanical tension reliever beforehand.
I tossed my handbag onto the bed, the clasp opening and spilling the contents across my mattress. Ignoring the mess, I opened the drawer to the small nightstand beside my bed and pulled out a divorced woman's best friend -- my Hitachi Magic Wand with its Gee-Whizzard attachment.
"Fuck, yes." Collapsing on the bed, I hiked up the skirt of my white, sleeveless sundress. I hurriedly pushed my panties down to my ankles, where they snagged against the buckles of my white sandals. I left them there, my hands too shaky for anything other than masturbating.
I popped the attachment onto the wand and buried it inside my pussy. Five inches of knobby, curved heaven began to vibrate inside me. Closing my eyes, I saw Roman and Chase. Delicious, dirty memories coursed through me. Play house, pool house, school yards, churches, open fields and barns. All through the last half of high school they had found a hundred little ways to be alone with me, each trying to convince me I should surrender to him and him alone.
