by Sabrina York
“Come here,” he commanded in a hard voice and she complied. He led her to the sofa. He sat and patted his lap. Obediently, she draped herself over his thighs, quivering with anticipation. He flipped her skirt up, baring her ass to his view. “Mmm.” He drew his palm over the tight curves, tracing the edge of her panties across her lower back. “Take them off,” he rasped.
She glanced up at him. His features were tight, laced with desire. Quivering, she slipped her panties down to her knees. His reaction quick and hard—a sudden, turgid swell against her left hip. He jerked her closer until she was fully on his lap, pressing against his cock. It was hot and thick, rigid and throbbing. He surged against her.
He returned his attention to her bare ass, squeezing and caressing those quaking globes. “God, you’re gorgeous.” He stroked her reverently.
And then his hand fell.
She cried out at the first smack. It was harder than she’d anticipated and it shot through her like a bullet of lust. She moaned and buried her face in her arms. It felt incredible. Better than she’d ever imagined. His hand fell again and again and her ass began to heat under the endless barrage. The warmth coursed through her. Waves and tingles resonated from her throbbing clit to her swelling nipples. Each smack sent a rush of heat racing through her.
He paused every so often to caress her sweltering, sensitized buttocks. Her moans rose to cries and she pressed her clit against his hard thigh. Before long, she was undulating in mindless passion.
“Is this what you wanted?” She loved his little grunt of exertion, his groans of pleasure as each smack fell. “Is this what you need?”
“Yes,” she cried. “Yes.”
“You like it when I smack your ass, don’t you?” He paused, once again, to fondle her burning flesh. “You know you do.”
“Please.” She ached. She wanted.
The delightful spanking continued but he shifted his angle lower, to the underside of her trembling ass. The sudden new pressure on her clit, pressing her harder against his thigh, was exquisite. Cream oozed from her pussy. She could feel it easing past her lips and dampening his jeans. She spread her legs wider and rubbed herself against the rough fabric.
He groaned. “You are so wet.” He drew his fingers up and down over her slit, delving deeper with each pass. “God. You’re so wet.” He held her open with two fingers and edged deeper with a third. “Wider.” He nudged her hips higher. “I want to feel you.”
She complied, spreading her legs as wide as they would go, but rather than easing into her pussy again, he smacked her again, right over her wet clit. She cried out as the first orgasm took her, turning to him with pleading eyes. She wanted him in her. Needed him.
He was utterly unsympathetic. He reached around and yanked the neckline of her dress down. “Play with your nipples. Pinch them.” She did, whimpering as twin shots of agony and ecstasy rocketed through her.
“Tristan,” she panted. “Please. Please.”
“I’ll please you, all right.” He paddled her, five sharp smacks in a row. “Are you playing with your nipples?”
“Yes,” she sobbed.
“Does it feel good?”
“Yes!”
“Do you want more?”
“Yes. Please.”
He paused, resting his large, warm palm on her burning ass. His fingers twitched, as though the sensation was just as intense for him, as though he itched to caress her more. But something stopped him.
Impatiently, she wiggled her ass, attempting to rub her clit against him.
“Not just yet.” He tightened his hold against her gyrations, forcing her to still. “There’s something I would like to know.”
“What?” she asked softly, and then more impatiently when he didn’t respond. “What?”
He traced a line over her ass and made a gentle, teasing pass at her sopping pussy lips. He dandled lower, just barely brushing against her clit.
Shannon cried out at the touch and sobbed for more. She was close. So close.
“He said you were crazy about me. Is that true?”
She stilled. Shuddered. Her breath caught in her throat. “What?”
Heartlessly, he dabbed at her again and then hovered, just out of reach. “Is it true?”
“Yes!” she cried.
His fingers returned to their tormenting rhythm. “You’re crazy about me?”
“Yes, Tristan. Yes.”
“How long?”
“What?”
“How long have you been crazy about me?”
Mortification washed through her. She couldn’t tell him. Couldn’t possibly admit the truth. Not now. Not like this.
She didn’t answer. Instead she rubbed against his erection, attempting to tease him, to distract him. He hissed in response and pressed up against her as well. But the delightful sensation between her legs stopped. She groaned.
“Touch me, Tristan. Please.”
“You like it when I stroke your clit?” he asked, teasing her gently.
“Yes. Yes.” She arched into him and knew bliss for a heartbeat before he cruelly pulled it away.
“Then answer my question.”
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“It’s too embarrassing.”
The harsh smack on her ass caught her at unawares and she cried out with a jerk.
“It’s not embarrassing to writhe on my lap begging for my touch? You know you want it. I can tell you’re close. So answer my question.” His voice was desperate. The words grated out.
“Forever!”
He stilled. “Forever?”
“Yes!” she yelled. “For-fucking-ever. Since the first time I saw you, you ass. Now touch me!”
He didn’t touch her, at least not the way she craved. Instead he grasped her shoulders and lifted her off his lap, turning her to face him. His eyes were damp, his expression tight. A muscle throbbed in his cheek. “Since the first time you saw me?” he rasped.
“Yes. Yes, damn you.” But there was no anger in her tone. How could there be?
“Jesus.” He sucked in a deep, hitched breath. “Jesus.”
And then he was on her.
It happened quickly. He tipped her gently but forcefully onto the floor and was on top of her, his pants unzipped, his rampant cock bounding free and slipping past her tender lips. Nudging in. The tightness was exquisite. He pressed deeper. Her flesh tightened and resisted his onward press, tugging at her clit.
The fullness stretched her unbearably but it was what she wanted, what she needed, and she hissed in pleasure as he entered her relentlessly, until he stroked her womb.
She clenched around him and he lost all pretense of gentility. He yanked himself from her and slammed in again, as though driven by a wild urge to claim her, to possess her utterly. He repeated the exquisite movement, fucking her hard and hot as his breath huffed in her ear and small groans emanated from the base of his throat.
“God yes,” he growled, shifting a little to change his angle, pounding deeper and harder than before. She could feel his cock swell as it always did just before he came, and she whimpered at the added pressure. Her pleasure rose sharply.
Her ass burned but it was a delicious sensation. And with each triumphant thrust, her tender flesh scraped against the carpet. His cock filled her completely and, as he pounded into her sweltering cave, his pubis and the wiry hairs covering it in a thick pelt ground relentlessly against her tender clit. She was wet and slick everywhere. His thrusts were well-oiled and perfectly placed. Her orgasm swelled and swelled again, hovering there, teasingly, just out of reach.
Sensing her frantic need, barely restraining his own, he levered up and looked down at her, panting in great gasps of exertion. “Do you know…when I first…wanted you?” he ground out, snarling in his fervor.
She cried out as he made a circular movement with his hips that made his cock dance within her. “When?” He lifted her hips and she wrapped her legs around his waist, riding him a
s wildly as he rode her. He was ready to explode. She could feel it in his tightly tensed sinews. In his trembling form. He was waiting, though, for her. Her pussy wept at the knowledge and the beginnings of her orgasm, deep within, stole closer. “When?” Was that her voice, so demanding and distraught?
“In the interview.” He pounded harder, a frenetic series of thrusts. “The day we met.” He drove her over the edge. Her entire body clenched and she cried out as wave after wave of delight washed over her and exquisite rhapsody danced along every nerve. She seemed to come forever, and even after the crisis passed, tiny little aftershocks pressed themselves upon her for long minutes as she lay there in his arms, desperately trying to catch her breath, desperately trying to find herself again in a sea of bliss.
“That,” Tristan said, “was incredible.” It was. She was. He stared at her in awe. She was beautiful, lying there, her hair disheveled and her cheeks pink with pleasure. But her eyes were closed, her lips tight. “Are you all right?” He brushed away an errant tendril.
Her eyes opened and found his. She smiled. “Yes, Tristan. I’m fine.”
“Did you…like that?” Somehow, he just needed some reassurance. Somehow, now, with passion exhausted, he needed to hear her say it.
“I liked it very much,” she said softly. “Too much, perhaps.”
Too much? Was there such a thing as too much pleasure? “What do you mean?”
She gave a little shrug. “You make me lose my sanity sometimes. It’s a little…overwhelming.”
Overwhelming? Hell yeah. “And that’s not good?” How could that not be good?
She sat up and readjusted her dress and then found her panties on the floor where they’d fallen and slipped them back on. “You just make me…feel things. You make me say things and do things I normally wouldn’t.”
Yeah. He knew that. And it made him a little smug. He liked that she lost all control when he touched her. He liked that, though she might resist, she wouldn’t resist for long.
Because he felt the same way.
He lost all sanity when she was near as well.
“What wouldn’t you normally do?”
She huffed and crossed her arms over her chest. “For one thing, I would never admit I’m crazy about you.”
“But you are.” He couldn’t help grinning.
“And I would never have told you…” She paused and her gaze fell.
“What?”
“I wanted you the moment I saw you. I would never have admitted that.”
“I wanted you the moment I saw you. I don’t mind admitting it.”
She snorted—a delicate grunt. “Men are different. Nothing embarrasses you.”
Not precisely true but he let that point go. “I’m glad you said it. I’m glad it’s true. And I am glad I can make you crazy with passion because you make me crazy too.”
“But Tristan, it’s a little too much. Don’t you see? We get all wild and crazy and have hot steaming sex and forget about things that matter.”
He frowned. Wild and crazy mattered. Hot, steaming sex mattered. “For example?”
“For example…” She dipped her head. “We’ve never once used a condom. We just get close to one another and passions rise and the next thing I know, we’re at it. All thoughts of protection gone in the wind.”
Never once used a condom.
Tristan’s gut curled into a tight ball. He’d been a religious user of prophylactics his entire adult life but, frankly, when he was near her, protection was the last thing on his mind. That fact flabbergasted him. Perhaps he should be a little frightened as well.
“Is there…anything I should know?” It was a little late to be asking but hell, he probably should know.
She gave a little sniff. “I’m clean.”
“So am I.”
“I know. I checked your med files.”
He should be offended. Really, he should. But he wasn’t. At least she’d been cautious. “So if you’re clean and I’m clean, what’s the problem?”
She sighed heavily. “I am a woman of childbearing age, Tristan.”
“But you’re on birth control.”
She nibbled on her bottom lip.
“You’re…not on birth control.” Hell. “Why the hell aren’t you on birth control?” She was a woman—a damn attractive woman—of childbearing age. She made him hard with a glance. A word. A breath. She should be on birth control. Perhaps a double dose.
Why the vision of a little girl with her adorable nose and unruly mop of hair skated through his mind, he couldn’t say. Why that vision gave him a warm sensation in his gut and made him want to grin was an even deeper mystery.
“Why would I be on birth control when I’m not seeing anyone?”
“You’re seeing me!”
“I wasn’t a week ago.”
“But you’ve had boyfriends.” It was a statement, not a question. A woman like her always had boyfriends. Though now he thought about it, the only “boyfriend” he’d ever heard her speak of was Bosco and he didn’t count. Aw hell. “You have had boyfriends. Haven’t you?”
“Of course I’ve had boyfriends.” Again, she looked away. He was beginning to really dislike when she looked away. “Just not for a while.”
“How long?” He swallowed the sudden lump in his throat, dreading her answer.
“A while.”
“How long?”
Her response was a mulish frown.
“Do you want another spanking?” He was teasing, but not really. Even though his hand ached, he was up to the task should the need arise.
She grimaced and rubbed her ass. “No, I don’t want another spanking.” She shot him a saucy little grin. “At least not for a while.”
“Then tell me.”
“Six years.”
Six years. Hell. Six years. She hadn’t been with another man since she’d met him. That was… Wow. That was incredible.
“That makes me so horny,” he finally said and she laughed.
“Everything makes you horny.” She stood, reaching down to help him up as well. “Do you want some cake? I’m going to have some after I freshen up.”
“Did I make you hungry?”
“That was quite a workout. But then, you always make me hungry. But I’ve been fantasizing about this cake since I bought it at Donna’s this afternoon.”
“Ooh. You didn’t mention it was from Donna’s.”
“Chocolate Death.”
His stomach growled. “My favorite.”
She shot him a coquettish smile. “I know.” She sauntered into the kitchen, a saucy twitch to her behind.
Of course he followed.
By the time they finished eating, frosting was all over the sheets.
Chapter Nine
Their conversation roiled in his mind all night, keeping him from sleep. That Shannon hadn’t been with anyone but him for years was mind-blowing. And it made him a little crazy. Even after a full night of soul-satisfying sex, he still wanted her.
But he wanted more than that. He wanted her wanting him with an equal fervor. His imagination was afire with the possibilities. By the time he arrived in the office the next morning, he’d hatched a devious plan. He got in a little late because he’d had to make a stop at a boutique on Sherman Way. Once in his office, he shut the blinds and waited for her to appear.
As soon as he saw her emerging from the lunchroom where she’d been brewing coffee for their upcoming staff meeting, he called her into his office.
“Good morning, Tristan,” she said softly as she appeared at his door. Today she wore a crisp jacket with a flirty skirt.
“Good morning, Shannon. Please come in and close the door.”
She complied, sauntering to his desk, her ubiquitous steno pad in hand. “Did you…want something?” Her smile was mischievous and alluring.
“You know what I want.” He motioned her closer.
She stepped around the desk and stood before him, smiling down at him with an angeli
c mien. She was absolutely gorgeous this morning, practically glowing with feminine contentment. Though she wore a perfectly respectable business suit, on her it was unbelievably sexy. He wanted to bend her over the desk and take her right then and there but he had bigger plans.
He caressed her hip and let his palm slide down over her soft bottom. “Have you recovered?”
She laughed lightly. “Barely. Last night was amazing.”
“Tonight will be better.”
Her lips twitched. “Oh? Do we have plans tonight?”
He grinned. “I do.”
“Do tell…” She cupped the back of his neck, threading her fingers through the hair curling at his nape.
“I made reservations at a club I know. We’ll be having dinner there.”
“Which club?”
“It’s a private club. You’ve probably never heard of it.”
“Try me.”
He leaned in and whispered, “The Pleasure Palace.”
“Dear heavens.” He could tell from her expression she’d heard of it. The club was a carefully guarded secret of the rich and famous, a place where private dinners were served in secluded alcoves and themed suites. It was a place where any fantasy could be lived out to its fullest with utmost discretion. “Are you a member?”
“One of our clients is co-owner. He owed me a favor.”
“Oh my.”
He knew what she was thinking. She’d guessed what he had planned. But only part of it. He was much more devious than she could ever imagine.
“Does the notion of being at my complete command arouse you?”
She swallowed heavily. “Yes.”
“Are you going to think about it all day now?”
A small squeak emanated from her sweet, bow-shaped lips. “Yes.”
He let his hand slip down her thigh and around, up the front of her dress. He found her lacy panties and slipped a finger beneath the band.
“Tristan.”
His blood thickened as he stroked her damp lips. God. She was already ready. The urge to fuck her here and now rode him hard but he resisted. He wanted her mad with it. Crazed.
“I got you a present,” he rasped, gesturing to the small box on the desk.
