Strictly Pleasure: Hooded Pleasures, Book 2

by Sheryl Nantus

“Afterwards, she got an invite to another party, a private one with others who, ah, were more serious. My friend wasn’t interested in anything more than what she’d done, and she passed the invite to me.”

  “So you lied your way in?” Oliver asked. “Not the best way to start.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Veronica snapped. “I got there, and they knew I wasn’t her. But the guy who gave her the invite recognized me from the first party.” She smiled. “He wanted to get into my pants, so he let me stay. And I liked what I saw.”

  “Did you screw him afterwards?”

  “No. He disappeared with some other woman.”

  “This second party. Tell me about it,” he murmured.

  “It was in the basement of some frat house. All pretty weak stuff. Spanking, paddling, some flogging. People tied up and bound, cuffs all over the place.” She squirmed, pressing her thighs together as she recalled the event. “We didn’t all get to participate. It was more of an exhibition. It wasn’t anywhere near as kinky as it sounded.”

  “But you liked it and wanted more,” Oliver prompted. His hands left her shoulders and skimmed her sides. “You got a taste and liked it.”

  He pulled the T-shirt up and out of her jeans and stroked bare skin, skimming his fingers along her torso. “So what did you do?”

  She gasped at the swirling sensations orbiting out from his touch. “I did my research. Looked up a few clubs, read a few books, and watched a few movies. Decided I was a Domme and went from there.”

  “You decided. Interesting.” He drew his fingers up along her ribs and back down again, brushing the top of her jeans. “And from there you built up your wardrobe and purchased a membership to a club. Correct?”

  The tremors began to grow in intensity as he continued stroking her bare skin, the tickling sensation twisting and turning into sheer arousal. She swiveled her hips, bucking back and forth under his fingers as she urged him downward with frantic, quick movements.

  “I did.” She panted.

  “Who taught you what to do? What not to do?”

  Sweat beaded on her forehead. “I watched and learned like everyone else. There was always plenty to see, to watch. When someone asked what I was, I told them I was a Dominatrix, because that’s what I wanted to be.”

  She continued her attempts to force his attention south, her frustration growing with every minute. “What are you waiting for?”

  Oliver continued his teasing, rolling his hands up under her shirt to cup her breasts.

  “Son of a—” She moaned as he squeezed both breasts, his teeth latching on to her earlobe at the same time. His thumbs brushed over her nipples, and for a second, she thought she was about to come right there, held back only by the thinnest of threads. “I need—”

  Suddenly, he was gone.

  Veronica gasped, goose bumps rising where his fingers had been.

  “I think that’s enough for today.”

  She felt a hand snake down her back, and her jacket was tugged back up over her shoulders, covering her exposed skin.

  No.

  No.

  NO.

  She spun around to see Oliver standing there, smiling.

  “What the—” Veronica swallowed hard, tamping down her excitement. “Why didn’t you finish it?” She gestured down at her lap. The tingling between her legs lingered on, and she knew the mere brush of his fingers would set her off like a rocket. “You didn’t have to do anything other than touch me.”

  “I didn’t want to,” he said nonchalantly. “If you want, you can go home and play with yourself. Once you leave here, I have no control over what you do or what you don’t do.” He put his hands behind his back. “You should have researched Hooded Pleasures before you came over.” He reached over and snagged her purse with a single finger.

  He strolled to the door and opened it, waving the bag in the air. “Thanks for coming by. I’ll see you next Saturday.”

  Veronica slumped, caught between sheer anger and agonizing lust.

  “Fuck.”

  Oliver cocked his head to one side and shook a finger at her with a disapproving look. “Watch your language please. And no. That’s not going to happen. Ever.”

  She pressed her palms down into the cushions, jamming her nails into the upholstery. “What was that all about? Teasing the hell out of me and leaving me high and dry?”

  Oliver lifted one eyebrow and dragged his gaze down her front, centering his focus between her legs. “Hardly dry.”

  The rage overrode her arousal.

  Veronica strode over to Oliver.

  “You bast—” She swung at him with her open hand, aiming at his face.

  He caught it easily in his left hand and held her in place.

  “I am a patient man. A tolerant man. A gentle man, if you’ll let me.” He pulled her close and leaned in. “But I will not let you abuse me. Because I am your Dom for at least the next six weeks.” A smile tugged at his lips. “Besides, you don’t even know my safe-word.”

  “Screw you.” She hissed as she wrenched her wrist free.

  “That’s not it.” He crossed his arms in front of him. “I’ll see you next week. Same time.”

  “That wasn’t even an hour,” Veronica complained, at a loss as to what to do. “What the hell sort of game are you—”

  “My house, my rules.” Oliver reached out and stroked her cheek with one finger, freezing her in place with the gesture. “I’ve decided Veronica is too long a name for me to remember. I like Roni instead. From now on I’ll be calling you that when we’re together.”

  “Roni,” she repeated in disbelief. “No one’s called me Roni for years.” She eyed him. “It’s a silly name, a name for a little girl.”

  “It’s a good name for a strong woman,” he retorted as he handed her the purse. “And when I’m with you, I’ll call you that and you’ll respond.”

  He picked up his phone from the bookshelf and tapped the tiny screen. “I’ll have a cab here in a few minutes to take you home.”

  “But we didn’t—you didn’t—” She shrugged, her head spinning. Finally, she threw up her hands, unable to process what had happened between them. “Whatever. You’re the one in charge.”

  “I am. And I follow the rules as laid down by HP. The first one is that the client will not reach sexual climax while we’re in a session.” Oliver smiled, and she felt the heat race down her spine again, pooling just below her belly. “Go right to the edge but not over. Because then this is prostitution, and I’m not a gigolo.” He gave her a serious look. “I’m better than that. And so are you.”

  “You’re not that good,” she shot back. “You can’t know when I’m about to come. You can’t control that part of me.”

  “True. To a degree.” He put the phone down. “When you’re with me, you’re under my control. And I will be extremely upset if you come without my permission.” He tilted his head to one side. “Accidents can happen. I understand. But if you climax when I’m telling you not to, I’ll stop right then and there, and playtime will be over.” A twinkle appeared in his eye. “And I’ll put you to some menial task like dusting my pictures or mopping the kitchen floor for the rest of the hour.”

  “You wouldn’t,” she snarled.

  Oliver smirked. He crossed his arms, and she saw the strength in them. “Try me.” He pointed at the wall. “I have a garden outside as well. Maybe you’d like to get your fingers dirty for other reasons. I think it’d be interesting to see you naked and on your knees in the grass.”

  Her insides churned a mixture of fear arousal and curiosity. “So we’ll never have sex?”

  “Not while you’re my client.” Oliver’s smile sent her head spinning. “You should know that’s not the sole goal of any sub/Dom relationship. You can get laid any time, anywhere.” He dragged his gaze over her, and she fought th
e urge to cover herself even though she was fully clothed. “You wouldn’t have any problem. But in a good partnership, there’s a mental component that has to be understood and explored by both parties, the submissive and the Dominant. In other words, there’s a lot more to it than just getting your rocks off.” He offered her his hand. “Consider this your first lesson. If you take nothing else away from today, let it be that.”

  Veronica instinctively took hold of his hand.

  What the hell is going on here?

  She was in a mental fog as he walked her back down the hall past the old photographs in the lovely ancient frames. The white cab pulled up a few seconds after he opened the front door, the cool air sweeping in over them.

  Veronica turned toward him, unsure how to start saying goodbye. “I—” She took a shallow breath to gather her thoughts. “I don’t understand this. Any of this. It’s not what I expected, what I—”

  “What you wanted?” Oliver gave her a wistful smile. “You thought you’d walk in here and bully me into signing the form by being a super bitch or use your mad love skills to sex me into giving up so easily?” He gave a low chuckle, and the hairs on the back of her neck shot up. “I’m not easy to break. Neither are you, it seems.”

  “What’s going on here?” Veronica whispered.

  Oliver leaned forward and kissed her forehead. “You’ll figure it out.” He gave her a gentle push toward the cab.

  Veronica settled in the back of the car and watched Oliver wave at her as the cab pulled away.

  I—I don’t—

  I’m not—

  She dug her nails into her thighs, feeling the pain through her jeans. As soon as she got home, she’d have a date with a vibrator, and there was no doubt she’d be thinking of Oliver Greenwood.

  What the hell is going on here?

  Chapter Five

  Oliver watched the car turn at the end of the driveway and twist out of sight.

  He let his breath out slowly, hearing his pulse sing in his ears.

  Damned close.

  Too damned close.

  His fingers twitched.

  She hadn’t caught on to the real reason he’d cut the session short and he hoped she never would.

  Oliver hadn’t stopped because he feared pushing Veronica too far.

  He’d checked himself because he was close to losing control, dancing on the knife’s edge with his little touching game.

  He wasn’t afraid of breaking her.

  Veronica Locksley wasn’t going to shatter like a china doll the first time in his hands.

  It’d been the other way around.

  She’d almost broken him.

  And she had no idea how close she’d come to doing it.

  Oliver drew in a shallow breath, reliving the past few minutes.

  The scent of her, that hitch in her breath when she realized she wasn’t in charge of the situation—

  Oliver let out an annoyed growl. He wanted nothing more than to unbutton her jeans and slide his hands inside, slide them over soft skin until he found paradise. Bite her earlobe and send her over the edge with dirty whispers and suggestions, send her soaring with only his voice and his fingers.

  Listen to her cry, listen to her moan, and listen to her scream while trapped in his embrace.

  Then do it all over again.

  She reacted to his touch as if she’d always been his, the scarlet flush on her cheeks and neck signaling her instinctive response.

  The damned woman was a natural sub, and she didn’t know it.

  He hadn’t seen a woman react to him like that since—

  Oliver shook his head.

  Best not to go down that road.

  Not right now.

  He strode back down to the room, clenching and unclenching his hands to try and release the remaining tension.

  A two-mile run on the treadmill, he mentally ordered himself.

  That should help take the edge off.

  The room was as he’d left it only a few minutes earlier, the love seat and the chaise lounge waiting for him.

  Oliver settled next to where Roni had been.

  He sniffed the air.

  She hadn’t worn perfume or used any scented soap but he could still smell her.

  Her sweat. Her arousal.

  Her need.

  His right hand brushed over his cock, and he groaned, the touch bringing him to full attention with ease.

  He was no fool. He’d been with enough women to know this was a side effect of working for Hooded Pleasures. Some desires couldn’t be bottled up forever.

  Wait until you leave their home and jack off later in the privacy of your own bathroom. Maybe in the car if you can’t make it home. Pull off into an empty parking lot and make it fast and quick before a curious security guard or cop came over to see what you were doing.

  Except he was already home, and there was nothing standing between him and privacy other than how fast he could get his hands inside his pants.

  But this hadn’t been a regular session. This hadn’t started off with an interview in the downtown offices of Hooded Pleasures, an initial meeting at her place to observe and arrange where and what would be done. An agreement made between two willing parties as to what was going to be accomplished and attempted, safe-words set and hard limits established.

  This was almost the exact opposite. An angry woman in denial in his home, in his personal space.

  A woman who needed to desperately embrace her true nature.

  There was nothing normal about this, nothing to compare it to.

  All that didn’t explain the attraction he had to her, the drumming of his pulse in his ears upon seeing her. The look of need in her eyes, her reaction to him demanding his full attention, body and soul.

  It was as if she’d been waiting for him to come along and help her find her way.

  He flipped open the leather pants and slid his hand inside his briefs with a sigh.

  Oliver flashed back to the last time he’d laid with Melissa. It’d been a regular night, nothing fancy about it. They’d made vanilla love with no toys or twists, nothing other than the warm embrace and her sweet kisses. The tiny chain around her neck signifying her collar had rubbed against his skin, leaving an angry red rash in its wake.

  The mark had long since healed, but the scars remained.

  Both on his skin and his soul.

  He couldn’t remember anything about the accident other than a sudden roar and seeing Mel’s face, the shock and pain startling him before it all went black.

  He’d woken up a widower, afraid and alone.

  The bittersweet memory dampened his desire, and he gave himself one last stroke before doing his pants up again.

  Melissa.

  There’d never be a woman like her.

  He flashed back to Veronica, the wild spirit waiting to be tamed.

  She didn’t know what she had inside her. From everything he’d gathered during their session, she’d decided to be a Domme without really exploring herself and her inner needs.

  It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure this out.

  Veronica wanted to be a Dominant because she was afraid to losing control and thus couldn’t even entertain the idea of being a submissive.

  It was his job to bring the truth out and let her blossom into her inner self.

  After that, he’d release her into the wild, and she’d go back to the clubs and find herself a good man, a strong Dom who would love and cherish her.

  The thought both cheered and depressed him.

  He rubbed his eyes.

  I’ve got to think about this. Five more sessions and she’s out of my life.

  He allowed himself a smile at the irony.

  She wants nothing more than for me to tell HP she’s learned her le
sson and let her go.

  I want her to reform as quickly as possible so I can be done with HP and avoid the temptation she offers.

  Two people aiming for the same target, fighting each other every inch of the way.

  Oliver levered himself up off the couch and headed for the kitchen.

  It was time for a good movie and an order of Chinese food delivered from his favorite place.

  A few bottles of beer should be a good start on the evening’s entertainment.

  Forget the treadmill.

  * * * * *

  “No charge.” The cab driver waved off Veronica’s fistful of bills. “Already paid for.”

  She shoved a five dollar bill at him. “Consider it a tip.”

  The man smiled and touched the bill of his baseball cap. “Thanks. See you next week.”

  Veronica paused. “What?”

  “It’s all been arranged.” He grinned. “Pick you up here and deliver you for two o’clock. Wait for a return trip and bring you home.”

  She held back a snort as she slid across the seat and out of the car.

  Insufferable bastard.

  The rage flared up as she watched him pull away from the curb.

  Son of a bitch probably thinks I’m a damned hooker.

  Great. Just great. That’s all I need. He’ll pass my name to his buddies, and I’ll start getting obscene phone calls in the middle of the night.

  She jabbed at the locked front door with her keys, trying to force her hand to stop trembling.

  Oliver screwed with my mind. Instead of me.

  What’s wrong with him?

  The key finally slid home in time for Mr. Anderson to peer through the curtains out onto the street.

  What’s wrong with me?

  “I’m fine,” she growled as she swung the door open. It smacked the inside wall with an angry thud.

  No I’m not.

  She ran up the stairs before her landlord could come out from his apartment and preach to her about not damaging his property.

  Veronica dashed into her flat and slammed the door behind her. She dropped her purse on the floor and tossed the keys in the waiting bowl as if they were on fire.

  Didn’t he want to?