“Mississippi?” I ask, trying to keep the tremor from my voice.
He groans but says, “No, ma’am.”
Fuck.
His ass is already turning a pretty shade of red with just the first blow. And, fuck, just looking at that makes me want to ride his cock.
I glance but he’s not hard yet, so that won’t do.
“Are you ready, Noah?”
His curse is muffled within his fingers. “Don’t ask me, don’t warn me... please.”
He doesn’t get to set the rules. If he doesn’t like them, he can walk away.
Though, I hope he doesn’t.
“Are you ready, Noah?” I ask again because I must.
“Yes... fuck.”
I strike him again, but this time not quite so hard and it lands on one cheek instead of both. Though the smack of skin still fills the air, after which I hear him blow out a relieved breath.
“You like that, pet?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Another?”
He hesitates. “If you want me to get hard, ma’am.”
I smile. I certainly do.
I smack his other cheek. These last two only pinken his skin, not redden it like the first one. But it’s still beautiful.
He’s beautiful.
And, God, how I love him. I love him even more at this moment because he’s doing something I’ve asked of him. And he’s doing it willingly.
He wants to please me.
“Again?”
“Please, ma’am.”
“Yes,” I murmur, “that’s my pet.”
I strike his ass again and again until he’s hard and the precum beads on the crown of his cock as it hangs low and heavy like his sac. It twitches with each strike, though I’ve softened them immensely because I’m enjoying this and want it to last.
After a number I think is sufficient, I ask, “Enough?”
His face is no longer buried in his hands, his palms are again flat on the floor, his fingers spread on either side of his head. “Not if you want me to come,” he says quietly.
“Do you need to assist?”
Again, a hesitation before admitting, “Yes.”
I will allow him this, because I want to watch him come and I don’t want to have to take this paddling to the extreme, to the point of where he must ask for a reprieve. I still want it to be pleasurable for him. Not just me.
“Touch yourself.”
He wraps one of his broad hands around his dripping cock and he tugs on it, the glutes of his ass flexing with each stroke.
That alone is enough to test my willpower.
My fascination turns from the desire of making his ass red to what’s between his legs. Without even a second thought, I toss the paddle aside. “Sit up.”
He does as he’s told, sitting back on his heels, his cock hard and long in his palm, though his motions have stopped.
“Continue,” I tell him and he does.
Watching him palm his own cock, watching the drop of his eyelids over unfocused eyes, watching his back bow as he brings himself to a point where I almost can’t watch his beauty anymore... I realize he’s art.
I have living, breathing art in the middle of my room.
He’s exquisite. Precious. And mine.
When he squeezes the head of his cock until it’s dark before sliding his fingers back to the root, I can’t take anymore. I move to directly in front of him, facing him, though his gaze remains lowered.
My fingers find the small zipper at the back of my skirt and I unzip it. “Look at me.”
His gaze lifts but his jaw is tight, and he wears a grimace. He’s close. I must hurry.
“Slow down, Noah. Save yourself for me.”
His chest rises and falls at the same pace as his hand. But eventually he slows.
I let my skirt drop to the floor and I step out of the circle of leather, kicking it out of the way.
I can’t get any wetter than I am right now. “Sit.”
Without releasing the hold on his cock, he shifts forward to bring his legs around until he’s sitting cross-legged.
“Hold steady.”
His hand stills, the head of his cock so slick and shiny from his own arousal. I move over top of his crossed legs and with hands on his shoulders, I lower myself to my knees and then slowly sink myself deeply onto him. Finally, his hand moves away and to my back, his other hand joining it, sliding up into the hair at my scalp, digging in, pulling, as I lift and lower myself on his length.
“Take off my corset,” I say much more softly than intended. His fingers find the zipper at the top and slowly slide it down, down, down until it falls away, releasing my breasts. He tosses it to the side and drives his fingers back into my hair.
“I’ve always loved your hair.”
I give him that, his speaking out of turn since I haven’t asked him a question. However, nothing has gone as it should so far tonight.
I fear I’m losing my touch.
But I’m gaining another... Noah’s.
Though he wears my collar, I feel I don’t own him. Instead, he owns me.
Once again, the undercurrents in the room have shifted and he controls me.
And the rush I feel from that thought could be from trepidation or excitement.
With one hand still gripped in my hair, he drops the other to my ass, holding tight, squeezing every time I post on top of him.
The need to come, to fall apart, overtakes me, making me arch my back. But I’m afraid if I let go, he will, too, and I want this to last a little longer this time. I want to appreciate all that is Noah as we sit face to face. Eye to eye. Our lips parted, our breaths mingling.
And I realize... we haven’t kissed. We haven’t done the most intimate act. Something we did so long ago that we loved to do. One thing we discovered we were good at before that fateful fuck up. Back then, his kisses alone had made me wet, wanting. The reason we took it to the next step.
The misstep.
As I stare at his lips, remembering how they used to feel, his middle finger sweeps down the cleft of my ass and presses inward. And when he takes me there, I take him, too, capturing his lips, groaning into his mouth, tasting his tongue as we tangle together.
I rise up then land hard on his lap, grinding my hips as he fucks me with his cock, fucks me with his finger. I’m no longer fucking him, it’s just the opposite. Once again, he’s gained the upper hand.
He’s taken before he’s asked.
He’s a naughty pet, my Noah.
But, suddenly, I don’t care.
He can do to me what he will.
I will be his slave.
He can be my master.
I will do anything he asks.
I will grovel at his feet.
I just want him to continue to do what he’s doing.
Kissing me.
Fucking me.
Loving me hard and fully.
He doesn’t release my lips until we both come moments later.
Chapter Six
Noah:
My forehead rests against hers as we catch our breath, wait for the slowing of our heartbeats.
“That was our first kiss tonight,” I murmur, a hair’s breadth from those gorgeous lips I just tasted.
“Yes,” she answers as if that’s completely normal.
“You normally don’t,” I state.
“No.”
I understand why she doesn’t. I hardly ever kiss anyone I’m with. My mouth is used for everything but. Funny how a kiss seems more intimate than actual intercourse. To me, the person you’re kissing should mean something to you, not just a body you are getting a sexual release from.
Maybe it’s the same with her.
“If I asked, would you kiss me again?”
“You haven’t asked,” she says simply.
True.
I can ask or I can take. I wonder which she prefers. No matter how much she’s determined to be in charge, that control clearly slipped
several times so far tonight. And in those moments, my need to take over, be something I haven’t been in a long time, something I hadn’t needed to be in over a decade, has grown to epic proportions.
And, honestly, I have a feeling it’s only because it’s her. Having her in my arms gives me a burning desire to protect her, take care of her, make her mine.
I decide not to ask, and just take what I want, brushing my lips softly against her red ones once, twice. Then tilting my head, I take our kiss deeper, my tongue dipping inside, exploring, hers doing the same. She groans into my mouth as I drive my fingers into her long, silky hair, gripping it hard. I hold her in place and take her mouth like it’s mine.
Because finally it is.
My cock remains buried deep inside her when she shifts, tilting her hips, pressing her clit against me. I drop one hand between us to tease her clit with my thumb. I circle it, pressing, and she grinds hard against me, squeezing me tight.
Then I feel it, her body rippling once again around me. Our mouths are joined, our bodies connected and I don’t want to let her go.
That last orgasm was solely for her since I’m lucky to have just stayed hard enough to remain inside her. I know that will change very quickly. But she doesn’t shift off my lap and I hold her hips tightly, wanting to keep her close.
She buries her face into my neck and breathes deeply. I nuzzle my nose into her hair near her ear.
“Bree...”
“Hmm?” she murmurs against my skin.
“You feel so fucking good.”
Her spine straightens, and she sits up, her face too serious for just orgasming for the millionth time tonight. Okay, maybe that’s a bit of an exaggeration. But this woman is no one hit wonder.
“Things haven’t gone the way I expected,” she admits.
I find myself pleased with that admission and need to press my lips together to keep from giving her a big, goofy grin. Finally, when I have it under control, I ask, “Is that so bad?”
“When have multiple orgasms ever been bad?”
At this point, I can’t fight it anymore. I smile and press a kiss lightly to her lips. “Never. And I’m glad I can give you that.”
“That you can,” she says on a sigh.
Finally. It’s only been about thirteen years, but yes, I can finally give her that.
With regret, I tell her, “As much as I love you being on my lap, my legs are falling asleep.”
She touches the leather collar around my neck, sliding her fingers along the upper edge. I still. A subtle reminder.
“Are you asking or telling me to get off of you?”
“Asking.”
She nods, and, with her hands on my shoulders for balance, she pushes to her feet. “I need to clean up anyway since you haven’t used a condom yet.”
“Is that a problem?”
She arches a perfectly shaped eyebrow at me. “Is it?”
“Not on my end,” I reassure her.
“Not mine, either. However, it’s not something I normally do.”
I want to respond with, “That’s good to hear,” but I keep that to myself. But it certainly is something worth noting. The kissing, the intimacy, the lack of complaint with not using a condom. It proves to me that I mean more to her than anyone else she’s normally with.
Not that I want to delve any deeper into how many men she’s been with. I’m not into self-castigation. The thought of any man having my Bree is disturbing, though I’m realistic. And it’s not like I’ve been saving myself either.
Because I certainly haven’t.
My life’s been a sexual journey of discovery. All the way from stolen backyard kisses until right this minute.
And during every one of those many minutes, every one of those partners made me a better lover, as well as more appreciative of a woman’s body and the power she can wield with it.
So, now I stare up at my ultimate partner. The person this journey began with and the one I want to end it with.
She stands over me, wearing black thigh high stockings, stiletto heels and a questioning look.
I slip back into my place. “How do you want me, Brianna?”
Instantly, her eyes darken and the slightest curve appears at the corner of her lips. Not quite a smile, but more like a look of satisfaction. A kitten who just finished a bowl of warm milk.
“I will clean up first, then you. Then I want you in my bed.”
And I want to be there. Preferably with Bree, but for now, I will take Brianna.
* * *
Brianna:
He’s breathtaking. I can’t bear to cover his stunning golden-green eyes with a blindfold again so soon, so he watches me intently. His well-developed arms stretch above his head, not in Velcro Neoprene cuffs, no. This time his wrists are bound tightly together in leather, attached to the hook on my very strong headboard, the one made specifically for this type of play. He would have to do some major damage to break loose this time. And, most likely, it would cause more damage to himself than anything else.
I could sit here all night, studying him. I did it for months all those years ago. Through that window. Into that bedroom. With that woman. Watching his body react to everything she did to him, everything she said to him. Though it excited me, it churned my stomach all the same.
At the time, I didn’t understand why he no longer wanted me and seemed to prefer what she offered. But maybe it was for the best. Maybe he needed to discover all his true desires.
And I needed to discover mine.
The problem is... now, I want something totally different between the two of us. I don’t want what they had.
I want something that’s our very own.
I’ve waited a long time for him. He says he’s waited a long time for me.
Maybe we need to rediscover ourselves. See what works for us.
Normally, I don’t like kissing men.
I love kissing Noah.
Normally, I don’t yearn for soft moments with my toys.
I love being held by Noah, who is clearly more than a toy.
Normally, I don’t let any man dominate me. Not ever.
Surprisingly, I loved being dominated by Noah.
But I need to make sure. I don’t want to give up what I’ve worked so hard over the years to achieve to only find out he actually wants what I have to offer, the skills I’ve developed over the years with the experts I had sought out. But the moment he broke free of his cuffs earlier and took over... I hadn’t felt a rush like that in a very, very long time.
It made the orgasms even more poignant.
They actually meant something to me, more than a bodily function, which I could get from almost anyone if I worked hard enough.
He made it easy.
Too easy.
I could get used to him taking over, making my body ache for him, cry out for him.
Is that going against my grain? Maybe.
Is that going against his? Possibly.
It’s a conversation we’ll need to have if this continues on after this one night.
However, I’m not sure if that’s possible, or even realistic. Tomorrow is my brother’s wedding. Then Noah returns to his life. Though, I have no idea what that involves since I never asked my brother. I only know it’s a plane ride away. And I only know he came to the wedding alone. But everything else is a mystery. One that will eventually need solving.
“Bree...” His voice is soft, almost a whisper.
He must have seen something in my expression. I blink myself back to the here and now. “Brianna,” I correct him.
Because that’s where we’re at, at this moment. Here. In my bed.
“Brianna. Sorry, ma’am.”
When he calls me Bree, I melt. When he calls me Brianna, I harden.
With his prior actions, I find myself curious. “Do you switch?”
“No.”
“Never?”
“No.”
“What was earlier then?”
“Me needing you desperately.”
Jesus. This man knows how to take me to my knees with his words alone.
Oh, wait. I’m already on my knees, straddling his hips and he’s underneath me, waiting to see what comes next.
And for the first time ever, I’m at a complete loss. I want this man. I do. I’m just not so sure I want him in this way anymore.
But I also want him to be happy. I want to fulfill his needs and if this is what he desires, then I want to be the one to give it to him. No one else. Not again.
I draw a nail lightly down his chest, over the tip of his nipple, his eyes darken as they hold mine. I scrape the other nipple before I draw a line down his belly, stopping just above his pelvis.
He’s still soft, but that doesn’t bother me. I know he needs a little bit of time to recover.
I’m patient.
There are plenty of other delicious things I can do to him, or he can do to me, while I wait.
However, there’s one thing he hasn’t done yet. Hence, the way he’s tied up. Arms overhead, body stretched long on the mattress, ankles lashed wide at the foot of the bed. Vulnerable. Delectable. Like earlier, his runner’s body, trim and tight, reminds me of living art.
Normally, I’d force a man to his knees, stand over top of him to remind him of his place, then I’d crop or cane his back while he did my bidding.
But again, for some reason I want things to be different with Noah and me.
I want this to be ours.
And maybe that’s simply ridiculous. But I don’t care.
My pussy pulses at the thought of his mouth on me. I move to my hands and knees over top of him, reach for a pillow and tuck it under his head. I want to ensure he can see me without difficulty.
After adjusting him just right, I dig through my nightstand drawer and bring out one of my tamer toys.
A woman’s best friend.
I get off the bed, move to the foot of it and again pause to appreciate all that’s laid out before me. I’m swept away by the trust he’s put in my hands by allowing me to restrain him once more.
I settle myself between his spread legs, draping my own over his thighs, opening myself to his view. With the angle of his propped head, he doesn’t have to strain to see what I’m offering and I can’t miss when his eyes drop from mine. I’m still wearing my thigh-highs, but that’s it. I’ve abandoned my heels and left the skirt and corset where they lay from earlier. His eyes follow the lacy top of my stockings to my center.
Loving Her Page 5
