by A. C. Arthur
“The lady in the club didn’t wait for you to give her instructions,” she told him. “And you enjoyed everything she did to you.”
Cris’s arms moving around him were different. Dylan preferred not to be touched. To bring about sexual release was fine, but nothing intimate. Intimacy meant feelings were involved. Feelings meant some type of commitment. None of which he was interested in. Cris flattened her palms over his abs, blunt tipped nails sliding seductively over his skin as they lowered to the ban of his pants.
“I’ve worked with her before. She is experienced in what I require.” Again, his voice sounded different. Dylan did not like it.
“Well, I have some experience in the area of sex,” she said before touching her lips and the tip of her tongue to his shoulder blade.
Dylan was five feet eleven inches tall. Cris, in her bare feet, was five feet three inches of spunk and smarts. She’d come up on the tip of her toes to drop that kiss, an action that was absurdly sexy to him. Her fingers were working his belt buckle. The metal made a clanking sound when it was freed and she immediately went to the button of his slacks.
“You paid for a night in the playroom. You will do the things that are done here.”
He focused on controlling the tempo of his words as well as the actions taking place. He covered her hands just as she finished with the button and unzipped his pants.
“I want you on that bed and gagged.”
What Dylan really wanted was for both of them to be fully dressed and sitting in their favorite booth at Tony’s Grill feasting on their favorite bacon cheeseburgers. How had he ended up here, in this room, with her? Everything about this was so wrong. But when she ignored his words and reached through the slit of his boxers to cup his now thick erection, Dylan closed his eyes to the instant jolt of pleasure.
Cris sighed, her breath warm as she rested her forehead against his back.
“I’ve wondered for so long,” she whispered. “You’ve always been built. I worked out with you in the gym so your fierce muscles aren’t a shock to me. But this, I’ve wondered how this would feel. In my hands and in my—”
“Don’t.” The word was sharp and ripped from him with startling force. “Not here.”
There was nothing personal here. Not in this space. Everything he’d placed in this room was for his sexual release. That was all.
Again, she ignored him as if he hadn’t been talking at all these past minutes. Cris always had a one-track mind. The one track being whatever it was she’d focused herself on at the moment. Right now, it appeared she was focused on making him come in her hand. She’d pulled his length free of his boxers and was now stroking up and down his rigid stalk like she was rubbing a prized pet. Her thumbs ran over the tip of his dick and his eyes rolled back in his head. He was not going to come just from her giving him a quick hand job. He was not!
“It feels better than I expected.”
“I did not expect this.” The admission was involuntary and he clenched his teeth with annoyance.
On the down stroke her knuckles grazed his balls and Dylan saw bursts of color behind his closed lids.
“Expect the unexpected,” she whispered. “Haven’t I told you that before?”
She had.
Dylan did not like surprises.
She licked his back again and pumped his dick faster.
The unexpected was about to get interesting.
2
Dylan turned around breaking the contact of her hand on his dick. She looked startled for a moment but then quickly stepped close to him once more.
“Lay on the bed,” he told her when she was about to touch him again.
She hesitated and he repeated, “Lay on the bed.”
A few seconds more and she finally went to the bed and sat. She placed her palms on the mattress behind her and scooted back slowly until she was in the center. Then she leaned back on her elbows and whispered, “Come here.”
Dylan didn’t move.
Although he wanted to run over and spread her legs wide. He wanted to sink deep inside of her and hold on because he knew it would be a journey that he was in no way prepared for.
Why was she here? Why had she followed him to Chicago and paid all that money for this night with him? Dammit!
He couldn’t turn her away, could not renege on the agreement made between the Southlake Park Restoration Committee and each patron of the auction. It was a binding agreement and the last thing he wanted to do to the event organizer and the woman who had been the closest thing Dylan ever had to a real grandmother, was cause her any legal troubles. Not that he thought for one instant that Cris would sue. The fact that it was a viable and winnable option, had him standing in his most private place with a raging hard on and a woman who could destroy him.
Dylan removed the rest of his clothes and shoes. He ignored the gag on the floor and walked to a cabinet. He opened the door and selected two silk ties and a small white box. He returned to the bed realizing that she was watching him. He wanted to believe that meant nothing to him. Dylan spent a good amount of his time in the gym, not so much to maintain physical attributes, but moreso to be preemptive against hereditary ailments such as high blood pressure and heart disease. Still, he was well aware of the fact that he had a perfectly sculpted body that women enjoyed seeing naked. This was Cris’s first time seeing him naked. Her perusal did not feel as normal as being stared at by other women did.
Cris’s body was exceptional as well. Dylan had known it would be. He’d watched her work out so many times. He’d watched her walk into and out of a room and he’d longed for her, knowing that he could never have her.
“I’m going to tie your wrists to the bedpost.” He knelt on the bed and took one of her wrists in his hand.
Her skin was soft. She rolled over so that she was now on her knees and closer to him than she had been before.
“Then I won’t be able to touch you like this,” she said and with her free hand once again grasped his dick.
Dylan stopped, silk tie in one hand, her wrist in the other. He swallowed hard and tried to remain focused. It wasn’t easy. Not this time. Not with her.
“Did you ever think of us making love?”
Her hands were magical. He could admit that to himself and not grapple further with how horribly he was failing at handling this situation. She was jerking him with swift motions that were guaranteed to make him come if he just let her continue. And damn he wanted her to continue.
“That’s not what we’re doing here.”
“Oh yeah, it is,” she replied. “I imagined reaching into your pants and doing exactly this so many times when we were studying or that time we went to the movies to see one of those action movies you love so much.”
His hips moved involuntarily. Just a quick thrust into her hand and Dylan clenched his teeth so hard his temples throbbed.
“We did not have a sexual relationship,” he said when he finally trusted his voice not to crack.
“But you wanted one didn’t you?”
Her hand stopped moving. The quick pause in pleasure had him immediately staring down at her. She tilted her head, strands of silky black hair hanging over her shoulder, hazel eyes staring back at him. “Isn’t that why we’re here right now?” she asked.
“We’re here because you paid for a date with me. That date is twenty-four hours in my playroom.” He wrapped the tie around her wrist and tied it into a comfortable knot. Easing her arm closer to the iron post, he tied the other half of the silk there in a much tighter configuration.
She did not resist his efforts which was one in a long line of shocks that were hitting him where she was concerned.
“You weren’t my type back then,” he said when she continued to stare at him.
“Am I your type now?” she asked and slid her hand along his dick again.
“I’m giving you what you paid for,” he told her.
“But you’re getting something out of this too. I can tell.” She l
ooked down at her hand, at the way her fingers were wrapped around his length, her complexion a little lighter than his own. The milky white dot of his arousal leaked from his tip to slide over her finger.
“Tell me I’m wrong.” She slowly removed her hand from him, bringing it up to her mouth where her tongue snaked out to lick the drop of his arousal from her skin.
Cris had a knack for going one step too far on many occasions. Her mother had warned her about it after she’d taken her anger at her oldest brother to a costly level by throwing red paint on his black dirt bike because he’d blacked-out the faces of everyone on her Jagged Edge poster.
Talking to Dylan when he obviously did not want to talk was most likely a problem. From what she knew of the BDSM lifestyle the dominant was always in control. She should have been doing whatever he instructed her to do. At least, that’s how she thought it worked. But Cris was no submissive. There wasn’t a submissive bone in her body, much to her mother’s consternation. Without any desire to submit, her old fashioned southern mother was certain her only daughter would never make a good wife. Cris loved her mother but her antiquated beliefs were not shared.
But back to the matter at hand. Or rather, back to Dylan’s hand which was now gripping her right tit while his mouth was glued to her left one. He’d watched her licking his essence off her hand and then he’d moved, pushing her back onto the bed, one arm extended by the tie to the post, the other he’d held to the mattress. But that was only for the first few moments as he stared down at her with a gaze so pensive she actually lost her breath.
He slid his fingers slowly down her arm at that point, until his hand was cupping her breast and then he closed his eyes. She’d thought with pleasure from touching her, but he shook his head. Almost like he was telling her no, she had it all wrong. Cris had been afraid that would be the outcome of her returning to D.C. in the first place. So far, nothing, until this very moment had gone as she’d planned on this trip.
Nothing, except the pleasure she’d known she would find under his touch.
The sound of him cursing yanked Cris out of the pleasure haze and she opened her eyes to see him moving away from her. He grabbed the white box she’d seen him take out of the cabinet and opened it. A condom packet and a tube of lube were now in his hand. He pushed the box off the bed and moved between her spread legs.
“This is not the way it goes,” he said tersely.
“I’m allergic remember,” she began saying after he’d ripped the condom packet, pulled it out and began sliding it down his length.
He finished and looked down at her with his hands still on his thickness. “I didn’t need your first or second reminders. I remembered your allergy from the day you first learned of it.”
Her mouth formed an “o” but no sound followed. She probably had told him about the allergy when she originally found out in her sophomore year at Howard. She’d initially thought she had an STD and was definitely planning to kill her boyfriend if that turned out to be the case. But why would Dylan have remembered that, of all things, about her?
The sight of him touching himself…no, the mere sight of Dylan naked on a bed between her legs was taking her breath away. She had thought about this moment, but she’d never really believed it would happen. Nine years ago they were the best of friends. They’d gone through a lot together and had held each other down through some pretty trying events as they grew into the adults they were meant to be. But this, sex, was never supposed to happen between them. They’d never discussed taking their friendship to this level, yet, anticipation was running rampant through her body. Arousal filled her so completely she could barely whisper her next words, “You won’t need any lube.”
He set the tube aside and touched a palm to her inner thigh, pressing it back. It felt as if she were opening for him, especially when he did the same with her other thigh. Cris had never been modest, but Dylan’s open perusal of her made her heart beat faster. Up to this point she’d been operating on a mixture of curiosity and bravado. Now that she was certain he was only seconds away from plunging deep inside of her, she could barely keep her limbs from shaking.
She was really getting ready to have sex with Dylan. In his playroom. With one arm tied to the bed post.
He paused for a moment, just staring down at her and Cris wondered if anyone had ever come just from a man’s intense gaze. She wiggled her toes and pulled her bottom lip between her teeth while she waited for him to make the next move. But he didn’t do anything except stare. Her body hummed with arousal, her nipples were so hard and her breasts so full she wanted to moan with the building arousal and anticipation. Instead, she moved her free hand to cup her breast. Maybe Dylan needed more stimulation.
“I’m ready, Dylan,” she whispered. “I’m ready for you.”
His gaze shifted to meet hers and Cris gasped at the raw passion she saw in his eyes. Dylan’s normally deep brown eyes had grown darker until they almost looked black. A muscle twitched in his jaw and when he lowered his face to hers she parted her lips in anticipation of a kiss she knew would drive them both over the edge. But Dylan stopped short just inches from her lips. He closed his eyes and touched his forehead to hers.
“One night.” His voice was a hoarse whisper. “One damn night.”
He yanked away from her in the next instant and found the second silk tie. Her other arm was tied to the opposite bedpost in seconds and then Dylan was between her legs once more. He touched a finger gently to the swollen lips of her vagina and Cris gasped again. She’d been confused by him not kissing her and then a bit hurt by his strained words, but now he was touching her and she was melting beneath the heat of desire.
Up and down he stroked her until her arousal soaked not only her lips, but the one finger he used in such a tantalizing manner. Her thighs began to shake as she arched her back and closed her eyes. In her mind she begged him to make her come, to end this delicious torture that was driving her mad. But she did not speak the words. She could not. Whatever his process, however this impromptu evening needed to play out, Cris was going to let it. She believed wholeheartedly in fate and things that were meant to be. Hadn’t that really been the reason she came back to D.C., to find out if she and Dylan were meant to be more than just friends?
Well, she was about to find out.
The thick head of his dick pressed against her entrance and Cris’s eyes shot open. He was over her, staring down at her while his body demanded entrance. Cris relaxed her hips and attempted to open her legs wider.
“Keep still,” he said through clenched teeth. “Don’t move until I tell you.”
She froze at his words. Well, froze was not the right word. Cris had never felt more on fire by a man. How it seemed that by doing less than any other guy had ever done to her, Dylan stoked an intense blaze of passion, she had no idea. But it was the truth. This was the most minimal amount of foreplay she’d ever experienced and yet it had effectively made her hotter than ever and more than ready to be fucked.
However, she wasn’t going to move. She was going to do exactly as he said because she had a feeling that it was leading to one amazing orgasm. Or two, or three. They had twenty-four hours after all.
Dylan moved over her, pushing his rigid length deeper inside her. It was a good thing she was so wet because he was thick and hard and she could feel her body stretching to accommodate him. Their gazes remained locked as he moved and she welcomed him, until he was fully ensconced inside. Cris moved her arms and remembered they were tied to the bed. She wanted to wrap her arms around his neck and pull him close to her. She wanted to hold him to her so their connection could not be broken. But she could not.
Dylan had flattened his palms on the bed, one on each side of her face, holding the top half of his body away from hers. He began pumping into her, slowly at first and then with a more upbeat rhythm. She lifted her legs and clasped her ankles around his waist, circling her hips in tune with his.
“I told you not to move,” he said
through gritted teeth.
Cris didn’t stop. It felt too good. And neither did Dylan. That muscle in his jaw continued to twitch until Cris thought he may actually be hurting himself. But that thought quickly vanished when his thrusts quickened. Her breath came in heavy pants as she kept up with his pace, loving the feel of him filling her and rubbing along every sensitive nerve ending she possessed. His gaze dropped to her breasts that were now bobbing with the motion of their bodies, but quickly returned to her face. He looked as if he were straining hard to hold something back. She wanted him to let whatever it was out, but without her hands she didn’t know how.
“I knew it would be like this,” she said as the pleasure intensified and her thighs began to tremble around him. “I always knew.”
Dylan didn’t speak, but his breaths were coming faster, the muscles in his bare arms bulging as he continued to move over her.
“Did you know, Dylan? Did you ever wonder about us?” she asked partly because the words were now just falling from her lips and because it was something she’d always wondered.
He did not answer. But his strained silence gave way to a deep moan and then a guttural curse. Cris was so wet the sound of him slipping in and out of her echoed in the room. Hadn’t she told him no lube would be required? Words were lost in her mind as Dylan eased her legs from around him, holding one ankle in each of his hands. He was on his knees now with her legs spread into a wide V as he pumped mercilessly into her.
Cris moaned. She gasped and pulled at the restraints holding her arms. He’d left plenty of slack between the tie and the bedpost so she was able to twist her wrists and grab hold of the material, squeezing with the intense build of her release. One minute Dylan was deep and the next he was pulled out almost to the tip. On and on this continued for what seemed like forever and at the same time passed too quickly. Her body tensed, and her thighs shook as her release ripped free. She bit down on her lip to the point she was certain to draw blood. Her eyes closed of their own volition and only by sheer stubbornness did she hold onto the scream that desperately wanted to rip free.