by Measha Stone
She obeyed, spreading her legs, even lifting her hips from his lap to give him better access. He didn’t pull her thong aside, but rather slid his fingers beneath the thin, wet material.
“So wet for me.” With his free hand, he ran up the length of her back and sank his fingers into her hair, fisting it and pulling back until she arched upward. “Now, keep being a good girl and fuck my fingers. Come on my lap, with your bright red ass staring up at me.” He plunged two fingers into her passageway, and she groaned with the pleasure of it.
She planted her toes on the ground and did exactly as he instructed. His fingers fucked her while she pushed against him. When a finger brushed her clit, she groaned and rode his lap even harder.
“Oh! Oh god!” She gripped his leg.
“That’s my good girl. Come for me. Come hard.” He tugged her hair, and the little bit of extra pressure, the tiniest flash of pain, and she skyrocketed over the edge where she’d been teetering. She screamed out her release, rocking harder against his thighs and riding every severe pulsation of her orgasm until finally everything stilled. Her breath settled, and her orgasm faded silently, leaving her in a haze of genuine softness.
Quietly, Jamison helped rearrange her clothing and to get onto her feet. He pulled her back into his lap and pushed her head against his chest, letting her take more time to come back to earth.
“You are more than I expected,” he whispered and pressed a kiss to her head. He smelled of musky aftershave. She snuggled farther into his neck. “Better than I could have wished for.” He kissed her again.
He sounded pleased, but she hadn’t given him his release. He made no move to request one either; he simply held her while she found herself again.
She felt so comfortable, so at home snuggling into his arms. Reality sank in, though, and she realized she needed to get home. She had an early shift, so she had to get away before the comfort and level of intimacy made her want things that weren’t possible.
She needed to get away from Jamison. As far away as possible.
Chapter 2
The lights in the main dungeon dimmed as the spotlights illuminated the stage. The evening’s main event would start any moment—a bondage demonstration. Jamison Croft, one of the owners of Dark Lace, leaned back in his chair and watched the screen.
He searched the crowd, knowing he’d find her. She’d be there. She had shown up a handful of times since their playtime at the Mistletoe Madness dungeon party nearly two weeks ago. Each time he saw her, she pressed herself into a crowd, either watching one of the intense scenes in the room or inching closer to the room they’d played in before she practically ran away from it. Was she suddenly ashamed of her desire to play in the nursery, or was she nervous she’d see him inside?
The nursery. How he hated that name. He’d begged the board to change it to something—anything—else, but he’d been outvoted. A small room off the main dungeon that held a variety of age play equipment. Everything from changing tables to toddler beds, and even one corner devoted to middles.
Carissa didn’t play by those labels though. One of the many reason’s he’d felt so drawn to her that night.
That damn night. It had started out perfectly fine. They met, they talked, they laughed, and then they played. Nothing serious. A short spanking. A taste of what they both wanted. She hadn’t played coy, and when he walked her over to the nursery, she’d been more than willing to enter. He had noticed that about her, too, the innocent way she glanced over at the age-play room.
What went wrong after the spanking, he had no fucking clue. He’d asked for her number, and she had given it freely. Then nothing. Not a single response to any message or voicemail in over a week. He didn’t play that way. When he scened with a sub, he damn well wanted to be sure they were okay the next day. He had been clear on that subject. Her ignoring him denied them both the necessary after-care. Hell, it denied him his peace of mind.
“Okay, now you’re stalking her.” Grant’s voice jolted Jamison from his thoughts.
“I am not,” he denied and turned away from the computer screen.
Grant laughed and kicked the door to the office closed. “Right. Except I can see her right there on your screen. The same chick you’ve been watching for the past week.”
Jamison ignored Grant.
“When are you coming in to get some work done? Maybe go through that massive pile of applications on your desk, or did you want to check out the security footage with me?” Jamison pointed to the messiest of the three desks in the small office. Other offices were being used for storage until alternative arrangements were made, so the three partners who worked the business had agreed to share space for the time being.
Grant shook his head. “Would it make your ego feel better if I told you she’s asked about you?”
Jamison wouldn’t admit it, but it would. “She did?” He shifted in his seat, suddenly anxious to start asking questions and digging for more information about what she’d said, and how she’d looked when she said it. But he managed to control his reaction and not go off like some lovesick puppy.
“Yeah. Steven told me she’s asked if you were here the last three times she came. And when he said no, she looked a hell of a lot more disappointed than relieved.”
“I’ve been here every time-" Jamison caught himself before he revealed too much excitement.
But it was too late. Grant laughed. “He didn’t know you knew her.”
“He could have told me.” Jamison turned back to the screen. Bingo. She hid in the back of the group while peering intently over a shorter girl’s shoulder. Bondage wasn’t her thing, from what she’d told him. What had her so enthralled?
His chest tightened, and he inched closer to the screen, needing to see her more clearly.
He moved his gaze to the corner of the screen where an obvious daddy and his little girl were in the middle of a punishment. The girl’s pigtails swung across the floor as she squirmed over her daddy’s lap, while his open palm struck her bare bottom over and over again. The fierceness of his scowl and his narrowed eyes explained plenty. That little girl had landed herself some trouble and gained an avid spectator. Carissa’s eyes were wide, and the tip of her tongue rested on her upper lip.
Maybe he’d spank her for being nosy. He grinned with the mental vision of it, and his mouth curved downward.
If she’d return his fucking calls.
“Why don’t you go out there and talk if you have it this bad for her?” Grant asked as he picked up a small stack of applications from his desk.
“I don’t have it bad for anyone. He shot his partner a quick look of irritation before his eyes went back to Carissa. “What, are you in high school?” Jamison watched Carissa’s reaction to the spanking being dished out while he berated his friend.
“Here’s what I see.” Grant dropped the papers on his desk and strode over to Jamison’s, leaning to jam a finger at the monitor. “That girl has you twisting in the wind. If you want to talk to her, go talk to her. Tell her what bullshit it’s been, her ignoring you. If she wasn’t interested, she could open her damn mouth and say so. Or, at least, tap a few fucking words into her phone.” When he wasn’t handling the background checks for new members and employees of the dungeon, Grant worked on the Chicago Police force. Being attentive to details, like someone’s reactions, came with the job.
Grant was right. Jamison knew it, and the urge to barge out onto the dungeon floor and have that conversation with her burned hotter with the encouragement. Yet, he still didn’t move.
“Girls fucking hate it when guys do this shit to them, yet here she is pulling the same crap.” Grant slapped Jamison on the back and returned to his desk. “Or, you know, keep staring at her through the security cameras like a creep. Whatever floats your boat.” He flashed Jamison a white-toothed grin and grabbed the pile of papers from his desk and headed toward the door. “I’m gonna run through these on my break tonight. I have a late shift at the precinct.”
Grant shook his head. “See you tomorrow. Maybe you’ll have your spine back by then. I’ve never seen you so cautious with a girl before.”
“Well, this one’s different.” He laced his fingers behind his head and leaned back.
Grant shook his head with sigh. “They’re all the same, Jamison. A girl is a girl is a girl.”
“Such a fucking romantic.” Jamison laughed.
Grant grunted, threw him a grin and headed out, leaving Jamison with the strong temptation to turn the security program back on and check on Carissa. The ring of his cell phone saved him from his own weakness.
His father. With a heavy sigh, he picked up the call.
“Jamison. Good I caught you. I have an opportunity you’re not going to want to miss.” His father always had an opportunity not to be passed on.
“I’m sort of in the middle of a project at the moment, and Garrick and I are working on a deal with a condo complex. I’m not sure I can fit in anything else right now.” Even after five years of trying to get out from under his father’s corporate thumb, the struggle never ceased.
“That’s fine. This is huge. Your little projects with Garrick won’t get in the way at all.” Little projects.
Jamison closed his eyes for a moment. Arguing that his company may not be a corporate glomerate like his father’s, but he and Garrick were doing just fine, wouldn’t get him anywhere, and would only keep him on the phone longer with his father.
“Come over, and we’ll review the details.”
Jamison clicked the security screen open again in time to see Carissa walking toward the lockers. The demonstration had finished, and the girl who’d been thoroughly punished stood facing a wall with her nose pressed firmly against it.
“Not tonight. I’ll look at my calendar and have my secretary schedule something.”
“Of course. I have dinner plans myself this evening. But don’t wait too long, Jamison.” The phone clicked, signaling his father had disconnected the call.
Jamison didn’t give him another thought. Whatever he wanted would wait, at least until his father’s patience ran out, then he would track him down.
He switched the screen to the parking lot and spotted Carissa. She stepped into a cab, and Jamison scribbled down the license plate and noted the time.
“Shit. I am getting creepy.” He sighed and dropped his pen to the desk then flipped off his monitor.
He needed to forget her. If she wanted nothing to do with him, why should he waste any more time thinking about her, worrying she’d find someone who wouldn’t treat her right—wouldn’t give her what she really craved.
Yes. Carissa McAllister, your message has been received.
Chapter 3
Carissa McAllister stepped out of the cab and joined the crowd of people waiting to gain entrance to Dark Lace. She let out a long breath.
She could do this. Fear didn’t twist her stomach into knots. Anticipation. Yes, something close to exhilaration. Not fear for what might happen if she ran into him.
Because she could handle running into Jamison. She would simply ignore his presence. If he even showed up.
She sure as hell wasn’t nervous either. Nerves were reserved for men she had a fighting chance at winning and keeping. They were not to be wasted on those obviously as much out of her league as her social class. Not to mention their shared kink. Just another sign to stay away.
Besides, it was New Year’s Eve. The odds he even considered attending the New Year’s Eve party at Dark Lace were impossibly slim. The man owned more property within the city limits than she ever would in her lifetime. Surely, he had somewhere much more sophisticated to be at the stroke of midnight.
But she wasn’t going to imagine him in a tuxedo walking through a ballroom full of gorgeous women falling at his feet. No, she was not going to do that. Even if he probably looked killer in the perfectly tailored suit, showing off his broad shoulders, his muscular physique. His dark hair would be styled casually, pushed off to the side of his forehead, which would expose his dark-chocolate-colored eyes. He’d smile with his thick lips at the ladies vying for his attention. Lips that could, no- did, make her body tingle just from the memory of their touch.
But she wasn’t thinking about that.
She moved up in line, taking out the small membership card to show the bouncer once she made it in the front door.
“Hey, Carissa!” Steven greeted her with a wide grin. The darkness of the front hall didn’t hide his handsome features. Chiseled jaw, square shoulders. He must have stepped right out of one of the historical romance novels she used to read in college.
“Hi, Steven.” She retrieved her membership card from him. Obviously, she’d spent more time at the club since her first visit right before Christmas than she thought. When a bouncer knows your first name and barely looks at your membership card, it’s a sign you’ve been tagged a regular.
“Long day?” he asked.
Working a ten-hour shift at the emergency room would be considered a long day by anyone’s standards, but for her it was the norm.
“Same as usual.”
“Have a good one.” He gave her a little wink and reached around her for the card of the next person in line.
Three more hours until midnight, and the club was already starting to fill up. The lounge area was already standing room only, and plenty of scenes had played out in the main rooms. The crisp crack of a whip followed by a scream could be heard over the mumblings of those chatting in the common areas.
She made quick work of checking her coat and purse into the locker room, dumping in the few quarters and taking the key before going back out into the club.
Since she’d already determined Jamison wouldn’t be there, and she wasn’t going to think about him anymore, she focused on the men who were in the room.
After her long shift, she’d showered and primped her hair as best she could without making the curls frizz. Deciding to go with a long braid, she’d maneuvered her long red hair into a plait and gone about stuffing herself into the new dress she’d bought for the evening.
She wasn’t man hungry. Well, no more than any other single twenty-seven-year-old. She didn’t need to find someone to take care of her, or to take on her problems for her. No, she wanted something more. Something deeper. Someone who would take care of her and meet those darker needs of hers, not because he had to, but because he wanted to. A companion, a lover. But she wasn’t naive. Relationships that start in a dungeon didn’t continue down the aisle. No matter what she wanted, she knew what she’d be getting.
Get a grip, Carissa. It’s a dungeon party. Get your spankings and go home.
Another long day at the hospital awaited her in the morning. Making it all the way to midnight didn’t even register as a concern. She wanted the release her body craved. There wouldn’t be any long-term matchmaking at the party. Just like there hadn’t been at Mistletoe Madness.
Jamison had been a perfect playmate. He gave everything she needed, without a long-negotiated talk. He seemed to know, and she’d followed him right through the night.
Carissa closed her eyes and took another breath.
“Good girl,” he had whispered when he laid her over his lap at the Christmas party. She remembered every tingle his fingertips had given her as he had lifted her skirt over her bottom, exposing her white thong. He had tsked at them. “Little girls don’t wear panties like this,” he had said, then gone so far as to snap the thin fabric between her butt cheeks. She had blushed. Oh, how everything he had said and done made her blush, and wet. So fucking wet. It had taken exactly three passes of her vibrator across her clit when she had gotten home that night to make her body explode. Three passes. But it still hadn’t quenched her thirst for him.
Stop thinking about it!
Music filled the play space, ramping up the energy with heavy beats a
nd smooth rhythms. Carissa needed to have some fun. She was ready to stop agonizing over what she couldn’t have, and start being more realistic.
She moved through the lounge toward the nursery. Not sure about playing in that particular room for the evening, she hesitated in the hallway. A few couples were already inside. A baby girl was getting a hard spanking with a ruler, and a middle stood in the corner with a butt plug prominently displayed between her red cheeks, while her daddy stood beside her, running his hand in circles over her back.
“Not tonight,” she told herself and turned around. She hadn’t squeezed into the little black dress to spend the night in that room.
The moans of a woman finding her climax drew Carissa to the main playroom. She found an open spot in the crowd to watch the scene. A woman’s ass, sporting dark red welts crisscrossing her upturned bottom, faced the crowd, while the rest of her stayed tethered to the spanking bench. Her Dom’s hand was between her legs, stroking her pussy while he spoke softly in her ear.
“You missed it,” the girl next to Carissa whispered. “I’ve never seen such a hot caning scene in my life.”
If she judged by the darkening welts covering the sub’s bottom, it would be the harshest Carissa had seen. Her ass clenched in sympathy for the poor globes. Although the far away, glassy look of the bent-over sub spoke to how much fun she’d had under her Dominant’s stern hand.
Jamison probably had a stern hand, but she wasn’t going to start thinking about that. Except it was too late. Her mind played all the scenarios she had toyed with over the past two weeks.
The little spanking he’d given her the night of the Mistletoe Madness only whetted her appetite for more. More in the way of his dominance, and his body.
