Lucky Seven

by Elle M Thomas

  “Now you can lie down, honey.”

  “I am still sore Jame—Jim—James—” She was confused, trying to distinguish between her Jims and her James.

  He bent down and whispered against her ear. “I’ll be gentle if that’s what you need but you really need to remember that you play with me at your own risk. One misplaced James and this need to keep trying to play me comes at a cost.”

  “A cost?” Tasha was unsure how she could pay up. She didn’t even know what currency they were trading in.

  “Do you want to do this, Tasha?” This was her get out if she wanted it. “You say no and it’s a no, don’t ever doubt that.”

  Looking up, his eyes were warm and soft, offering her the chance to say no, to take some control. She didn’t want control and had no intention of saying no, figuring she’d be able to pick up the rules and find her method of payment as they went.

  “I want to do this, with you, yes.”

  He nodded with a small quirk of his lips. “So, my dick, my rules, and I did warn you, so this is for me.” His eyes turned dark and more intense.

  Oh God, she really could go for him, regardless of his age. She knew that he wasn’t healthy for her and needed to keep reminding herself of that fact before she found herself on a plane to Vegas.

  Sensation ran through her when she felt the combination of pain and pleasure as he entered her and her initial reaction of amusement at his my dick, my rules line was forgotten as she arched her back and tried to meet him.

  “Oh fuck,” she cried loudly as a loud rap echoed around the room. With her arousal multiplying and intensifying as her outer thigh that was wrapped around Jim’s middle began to sting, Tasha suddenly realised that the noise she’d heard before the sting was a smack. He had spanked her and she’d liked it. What was it with this man, how could he turn her into this crazy, wanton woman lying beneath him, literally begging for more?

  She looked up at him. He spoke through gritted teeth. “I told you this is for me.”

  His hands that were now on her hips began to dig in as his pace quickened. She grabbed them, placed them on her breasts and tried to encourage them to play. He looked down at her and smiled before removing his hands and replacing them with her own.

  “This is all for me, honey,” he repeated and suddenly she realised why he kept saying that.

  This was a punishment for her. For crossing the line he’d drawn. He was using her as an object, a vessel, and she was loving it. She’d never been one to get drawn into serious conversations about being objectified and used as a purely sexualised image, not that she didn’t disapprove of both things, but right now, here, with James, she had no objections whatsoever.

  She called out again as his pace reached fever pitch with the familiar build up ready to implode or explode. She wasn’t sure which.

  He was almost at that point too when he spoke, gruffly, “This is me fucking you, for me, just me.”

  That was enough to take her completely over the edge, screaming out again, “Yes, James, yes.”

  Her body was responding to itself and him then suddenly he was momentarily frozen before lying across her, still from the waist down.

  “I think you need more practise,” he whispered.

  “Practise?” Her confusion at his words mixed together with what had happened and just how much she’d enjoyed it.

  “I told you it was for me, not you. You weren’t supposed to come,” said Jim, or James, whoever. He looked down at her. “Hence, more practise.”

  “Sorry. I didn’t know.” She was even more confused now by her own apology as much as James’ revelation, and he was definitely still James.

  “I thought I made it perfectly clear. It was for me. I even spanked you, although I regret not being able to get to your ass.”

  Her confusion was soaring with that information; the fact that he had spanked her. That she’d liked it. That it had excited her. With a variety of expletives and curses running through her head Tasha figured she’d managed to avoid running her mouth since her ass remained sting free, although she was quite disappointed about that. Briefly she wondered who the hell this person was who’d taken over her body?

  “So, more practise in restraint I think,” he said with a flat edge. “Later though.”

  “Thank fuc—I mean thank you,” she replied, questioning exactly what the rules to this game they were playing actually were.

  “I love your quick wit when we talk properly and your frankness, but that mouth.” He half-smiled.

  “Sorry,” she repeated. She hadn’t had so much pleasure or made so many apologies in her life.

  “Let’s shower.” Jim removed the condom with not an ounce of self-consciousness. “We can get each other clean,” he said in a way that made her think he’d just made the most lewd suggestion she’d ever been subjected to. “And then get dressed for our movie night and dinner. No sneakers and no jeans. I like skirts and dresses, a traditionalist.” The final word was accompanied by a wink.

  She nodded as he helped her to her feet and held her steady.

  “You would be a phenomenal number seven, Tasha. You’d really make it my lucky number.”

  She smiled and found herself saying, “Can we talk about this later?”

  Hearing those words had her screaming to herself. There was nothing to talk about. She might be a phenomenal number seven for him, but he would be an awful number one for her. Imagine her parent’s and grandparent’s faces if she arrived home with Jim as her Vegas husband in tow. Gerry’s face. No, no. This was just sex, no more. It couldn’t ever be more. It was absolutely amazing, mind blowing sex, but sex nevertheless.

  He smiled at her now, maybe one of the Jims was back.

  “Shower, now!”

  Or maybe James was still in situ.

  As they sat eating dinner at the same dining table where a few hours earlier he’d so dominantly taken her, Tasha suddenly panicked, her cutlery clattering against her plate, “Shit! I need to phone home.”

  Jim looked across at her and frowned. “Do you kiss your mother with that mouth?”

  “Rarely,” she muttered in a low whisper, “Sorry. I have seven messages that I collected from my hotel and I meant to call her when I got back here, but I got distracted.” She smiled coyly.

  “Seven, eh? There’s that number again,” he teased. “Then you should call now. If you’ve finished dinner.”

  She stifled a giggle as she thought he really did sound like her dad, well, not her dad, but a proper dad; if you’ve finished dinner. She wondered whether she’d have to ask permission to leave the table. Looking down at her plate there was just a potato and a string bean, so yes, she’d finished.

  “Feel free to make your call in the main living room or the bedroom if you’d rather.”

  “Thank you.” She got to her feet feeling sick, knowing there were only a few reasons for her mother to call, none of them good.

  “You look very beautiful tonight, Tasha. That colour really suits you.”

  She looked down at the long, bronze, Grecian style dress that she was wearing and smiled. “Thank you,” she repeated.

  “And don’t come back with panties on. I think we can start working on your restraint technique while we watch a movie.” He grinned at her broadly.

  “No problem. I didn’t bother with underwear tonight.” She smirked as his expression changed. It suggested he was impressed, challenged almost.

  Tasha turned to find a phone to use and decided against the bedroom, in case he followed her. She may not get back out of there until the flights to Vegas had been booked. The lounge area would be fine. The call wasn’t private as such, but she was glad for the physical space to gather her thoughts, if only for a few minutes. James was intense, this whole weekend was pretty intense.

  She picked up the phone and dialled her mother’s number, but the line was dead. “International dialling code,” she told herself, realising her error. Trying again she ended up with reception at the
other end of the line. “Sorry, wrong number.” She quickly hung up, frustration seeped through her every pore. Dialling a phone number was proving to be far more complicated than it needed to be and Tasha knew the reason for it. She didn’t really want to make contact, but needed to. She looked at the phone again. “Stupid bloody phone,” she hissed as she punched the number in again and obtained reception once more. With another apology, she hung up with a slam of the receiver and a curse at the phone and the recipient of the call she needed to make. “For fuck’s sake all I want to do is phone home, or not,” she cried before virtually throwing the phone down on the table with anxiety and concern rolling off her in waves, both things contributing to her inability to make the call.

  “Temper, temper,” came the admonishment from behind her. “And that mouth again. Give it here, what’s the number?” Jim took the phone from her, punched in the number and passed it back. “It’s ringing.” Sitting down next to her, he offered a sympathetic and reassuring smile, somehow sensing this call was so much more than a simple call home or checking in.

  “Hi, Mum, sorry I didn’t get back to you sooner, it’s been a bit crazy here,” she said as the call connected and thought her words were a serious understatement.

  “You’re so selfish, Tasha,” the other woman accused, an accusation Tasha simply ignored.

  “Sorry,” she said again. She really was sick of the sound of that word leaving her mouth, but knew it was unlikely that her mother was worried, about her anyway.

  “So how was the meeting? Your dad was excited about it when Dan let it slip.”

  And there it was. The real reason for the missed calls.

  “Okay, the meeting was okay. I don’t think I’ll get any work out if it, but I made a useful contact.” She stared at Jim and grimaced at the mere thought of her parents and everything that involved.

  “So have I,” Jim whispered in her free ear and his hand disappeared beneath the dress he had pulled up around her knees.

  No, surely he wouldn’t, not while she was on the phone.

  “Who did you meet with?” her mother asked.

  “Oh just a couple of execs from the studio, just faceless suits really.” Knowing her mother’s interest was at best fake and at worst conspiring she decided against actual names for fear of a Google search and what that might throw up including net worth.

  Tasha meekly and obediently listened to her mother, discussing her needs, wants and gripes and eventually she ended the call after gaining a promise from Tasha that she would be in touch as soon as she returned home, which essentially meant get your cheque book out. Hanging up, Tasha looked sad and pre-occupied.

  “Hey, you okay? Things all good at home?” Jim sounded as though he might actually care.

  “Fine.” Tasha smiled tightly, kidding neither of them with her claim.

  “Honey, if I can help,” he began, but Tasha immediately cut him off by pulling his face to hers. She silenced him with a kiss because she really, really wanted to tell him how not fine things were, but she didn’t know him well enough and the truth was likely to guarantee she never would.

  Her possession of the kiss only lasted a matter of seconds, but it was long enough to distract her mind from thoughts of her parents and home. Jim took control of the kiss and wasted no time in moving things on. He was now on the floor resting his chin on her knees.

  Looking up at her, he smiled. “Faceless suit, am I? I can do faceless for you, honey.”

  She looked down at him, a confused frown creasing her brow, then remembered how she’d described him to her mother.

  “Open your legs,” he commanded.

  Tasha had no objection to his suggestion but was startled enough by the words that she remained rigid and non-compliant with her knees firmly clamped together.

  He gently rested a hand between her knees and quietly and calmly repeated himself. “Tasha, I said open your legs, baby.” He stared at her intently and she found herself obeying what was definitely an order, even with the addition of his baby. “I want to make you feel better. I want to make you smile.”

  With all doubt in her mind evaporating, Tasha allowed her legs to spread freely, willingly. They exchanged a glance before he disappeared beneath her dress.

  Twenty minutes later Jim had brought her to the verge of a glorious explosion and then stopped several times. All other thoughts of anyone and anything that wasn’t the two of them were forgotten now. All details of her mother and father’s latest falling out and their need for money gone, but she was beginning to lose focus. She needed a release from this and knew it wouldn’t be coming anytime soon, although she was going to come for sure if he continued with his devilish manipulation of her body.

  Suddenly, Jim got to his feet and beckoned her to stand. She had no clue where they were going but really hoped it was to bed. That she was going to be somehow rewarded for her powers of self-restraint that she couldn’t quite believe she was still in control of.

  Taking her free hand, Jim led her to the back of the sofa and sat her on the edge of it. He lifted her leg and traced his fingers back up her thigh, higher and higher. She gasped as they found her molten core. Smiling at her, he put his fingers in her mouth again. Tasha couldn’t quite believe just how hot she found this, how hot she found him. He returned his fingers to her already rippling sex, causing that familiar sensation to build further, tempting it to wash over her as she moved to meet his touch almost forgetting she was practising self-restraint. She thought this might be what he’d planned; to get her this way and to make her come in order to bend her over, or put her across his knee to spank her as punishment which was fine by her. Anything more would be welcomed by Tasha. As a last ditch attempt to maintain her control she paused for a breath and just as she could feel that she was about to fall apart at James’ hands, literally, he stopped, maybe knowing just how close she was. Maybe he didn’t want her to fail.

  “Oh shit!” she cried as she lost her balance and fell off the sofa.

  Immediately, Jim grabbed her and turned her round in an instant so she was bending over the sofa with her arse in the air and then nothing.

  “Please,” she begged, desperate for him to touch her, to spank her.

  “What do you want, Tasha?” He still made no attempt to touch her.

  “Touch me, please, anything, spank me,” she cried, anguish and shame flooding through her whole body. Why did she want this and what did it say about her? She was damaged, she knew that, but this was wrong, wasn’t it?

  Jim made no response, but was clearly happy to give her what she was asking for. The sting across her behind gave her the realisation that he had spanked her again, but had managed to get the contact he’d previously desired. The first spank landed on her right cheek, followed by one to the left. The burn was reassuring and satisfying. He continued, another two smacks, one more spank on each cheek. The simple burn intensified into a scorching heat that had her moaning out loud, pleading to be touched, the arousal that was escaping her surely clear to him as well as her.

  Her moans, cries and calls for more and please echoed around them for several seconds after the last spank landed.

  With the spanking over, Tasha realised she was still over the back of the sofa. She turned to look at Jim, but he wasn’t there. Rubbing her bottom where he had hit her it felt warm through her dress and a little tender, but as she rubbed it she felt very sexy. In fact, it was turning her on even more, if that was possible.

  “Show me.” The voice of command made her jump as it came from behind her.

  “It’s fine,” she protested, feeling awkward and self-conscious about just how much she’d enjoyed getting the red bottom she was currently sporting.

  “Show me,” he repeated from his position standing next to her, somehow demanding to see it now, but she didn’t protest further, she simply lifted her dress up, revealing herself.

  Gently, Jim rubbed the warm, tender cheeks in turn whilst whispering in her ear. “You liked it, didn�
�t you?”

  Tasha nodded and cried out again as he let his fingers move to find her arousal that he was almost bathing his fingers in.

  “James, please,” she cried as she felt tremors through her legs in preparation for the release it desperately craved.

  The removal of his hands from her suggested her release had not been earned yet.

  “Let’s watch a movie. It’s some romantic comedy. I thought you might like it.” He held a remote control in one hand and one of her hands in the other to lead her to the sofa. “Sit,” he commanded as if dog training again, yet she did as she was told, sitting exactly where he positioned her.

  Jim left the room briefly and returned a minute later with a bottle of wine and two glasses as the opening credits appeared on the screen. He put the drinks on the table and filled the glasses before turning off the light to sit at the end of the sofa bracketing Tasha with his legs, one behind her and the other in front.

  “Here,” he called and summoned her to move up the sofa so that she had her back against his front allowing him to drape his hands around her neck, resting on her breasts while he hooked his feet over her legs to pull them apart slightly.

  Tasha settled into his chest and although she was certain that his torture, or practising her restraint technique as he called it was far from over. She felt happy, safe and comfortable with this handsome and controlling man.

  As the movie ended they were in almost the same position as at the start of the movie. Her whole body was aching after his relentless onslaught of it that had continued throughout the movie.

  “What did you think?” he asked as they lay still.

  “Okay, although I kept losing my focus.” Tasha smiled.

  “I can’t think why.” His hands were moving again, eliciting moans, groans and tiny gasps.

  “I think you know exactly why.”

  “I could stay like this forever, Tasha.” The words were whispered against her ear as he nuzzled the nape of her neck.

  “I couldn’t stay like this forever. I’m on fire with a sore arse.”

  Jim laughed. “Sorry, honey, but you’ve come a long way tonight in the pursuit of restraint.”