Timeless

by Brynley Bush

  My ass is feeling pretty warm right now, and I can’t help but rub my pelvis against the back of the couch. Who knew a spanking could be so damned erotic?

  The belt hits my primed buttocks like a blaze of fire.

  “Motherfucker!” I yell.

  The bastard has the nerve to actually chuckle. He reaches under my shirt and fondles my breast again, tugging on the nipple. I try to squirm away and he pinches it sharply. “That wasn’t the correct response, gattina,” he chastises softly, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

  “One,” I say between clenched teeth.

  “And…” he prompts, trailing the soft leather over my sensitive ass. A shiver runs up my spine, but I’m far from cold.

  “Thank you. Please give me another.”

  He cracks the belt against my left buttock. Damn, it stings!

  “Two. Thank you. Please give me another.”

  The third hits me on the right cheek.

  “Three. Thank you. Please give me another.”

  The fourth is the hardest yet, striking me right at the top of my thighs.

  “Fuck! You are a sadistic bastard!”

  “Am I?” He glides his finger over my pussy lips and plunges into my wet opening. “Is that why you’re so wet?” I’m not fooling him for a second. He slips it out and circles my clit slowly. “I think you’re forgetting something,” he murmurs in my ear.

  “Four,” I say breathlessly. Despite the sting on my ass, or maybe somehow because of it, I’m impossibly aroused. “Thank you. Please give me another one.”

  The fifth and sixth are light glancing blow, and this time when I thank him I do it a little more genuinely. My butt is grateful for the reprieve. He drags the belt between my legs so that the smooth leather grazes over my needy clit and I moan. He’s killing me.

  “My belt makes you wet,” he observes.

  I would answer, but I’ve lost my ability to speak.

  He finds it with the next slap of leather against my already flaming hot skin.

  “Ouch!” Another firm tug on my nipple has me yelling, “Eight! Thank you. Please give me another.”

  This time he doesn’t let go. He squeezes my breast and fondles my nipple, rolling the taut peak between his fingers expertly. Still squeezing and pulling my nipple with one hand, he lands another stripe across my ass.

  “Nine,” I manage, my voice strangled. “Thank you. Give me another one, dammit!” I’m ready for this to end so I can finally feel his cock inside of me.

  “Manners, gattina,” he reminds me reprovingly. “There’ll be no topping from the bottom with me. You may be strong, but I’m stronger.” His hand presses firmly at the small of my back, holding me still.

  His words, coupled with the possessive gesture, ignite me. I had told him exactly what I wanted, and he’s giving it to me without hesitation. His undeniable power over me thrills me.

  “Try again,” he says softly in my ear.

  “Please give me another one,” I whisper.

  The leather bites into my ass so hard that I lift up on my toes.

  “I like that,” he says, his voice carnal. “Stay on your toes for the last two. And thank me properly.”

  I do as he says, feeling the wet evidence of my desire trickle down my thighs.

  He whips me with the belt twice more and they are the hardest blows yet. I struggle to stay on my toes, determined not to disappoint him.

  “God, you’re perfect,” he whispers as I thank him for the last one.

  I hear the belt clatter to the floor and his fingers find my quivering sex. He plays with me, stroking my labia and tormenting my clit until my pelvis is grinding against the back ridge of the sofa.

  “Please, Marcus. Fuck me,” I beg. I have never felt so desperate to be taken and filled before. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

  He moves away from my needy core and his hands rub over my sore and blazing ass. It hurts, but the touch of his rough hand somehow takes the pain and turns it into molten desire.

  “I thought we already talked about topping from the bottom, Ari,” he says reprovingly. “I’m in charge tonight, not you. Do you need a few more lashes to remind you who’s in control?”

  I shake my head wildly and he chuckles.

  “Now be still. I intend to make you come first.”

  Oh god. It’s hard to argue with that.

  His firm fingers spread my butt cheeks and I want to squirm away, but the sheer awareness of his powerful presence behind me keeps me rooted to the spot. He skims a finger over the tightly puckered hole of my ass and I shiver.

  “Have you ever been taken here?” he asks softly.

  I shake my head violently. “No! And I don’t want to be.”

  He presses slightly and I tremble. “Really? We’ll see about that.”

  The thought is so decadent, so forbidden, and oh so intoxicating.

  He’s on his knees now, tonguing me as his finger massages my anal entrance deliberately, pressing slowly but insistently into my most private of places. Some distant part of my mind is telling me this is wrong, that I should make him stop, but I can’t think straight. He’s driving me mad with his tongue, licking and biting and sucking until I think I’m going to explode. And his finger! Somehow it’s inside my ass now up to the first knuckle, invading me intimately. My hips don’t know where to go—arched back into his forbidden touch or forward into the maddening hot wet heat of his tongue. In the end it doesn’t matter. I’m immobilized by his firm grasp, my body his to do with as he wishes.

  My core tightens. He holds me still, anchoring me with one finger in my ass—the darkly erotic sensation of fullness coupled with my undeniable and irrefutable submission to him an inexplicably powerful aphrodisiac. His tongue wiggles relentlessly against my clit as everything in me gathers into one tight desperate ball of need, the tension almost unbearable.

  “Surrender to me, gattina,” he demands seductively.

  His words are like napalm, igniting the sensations that have built to epic proportions, and I can’t hold back anymore. My thighs tense and my sex tightens as I tumble over the edge. I scream his name as the orgasm rolls over me, drowning me in the wild abandon of an emotion so deep I want to sob.

  “God but I love to hear and see and feel you come,” he rasps, moving around behind me.

  I wonder idly if he’s going to fuck me in the ass, and some faraway part of my brain dimly registers the fact that I should probably be concerned about that, but I’m beyond caring about anything except the feel of Marcus inside me, claiming me as his.

  But the broad head of his cock is against my pussy instead, pushing against my entrance. I arch back into him as he impales me, sheathing himself in my wet heat until he’s balls deep. My bent over position allows him to penetrate me deeply and his impossibly thick shaft stretches me almost painfully. My ass is sensitive from the belt, and the path of hair that leads to his cock scrapes against my raw skin, igniting nerve endings I didn’t even know I had.

  He fists one hand in my hair and pulls me up so that I’m half standing and half bent over, completely off balance and dependent on him to hold me up as my hands can’t reach the cushions anymore. Just to ensure my helplessness, he grabs my wrists easily in one hand and holds them behind me. He takes advantage of my vulnerable position, guiding me back and forth on his cock. I love the way he makes me feel helpless, the way he dominates me. It’s completely and paradoxically liberating.

  With one hand gripping my wrists and the other tangled in my hair, he moves inside of me, claiming me a little more with each deep thrust. He pounds into me relentlessly as my need gathers again. My senses are overloaded with the masculine scent of him, the heat and power of his hard muscular body behind me, and the feel of him moving so forcefully inside of me.

  Blood roars in my ears as my pussy ripples around him and I come with a gasping cry. He grunts and plunges into me once more, so sharp and so deep that he touches the center of me, and then I feel him come on the h
eels of my orgasm, his cock jerking as he spills his hot seed into me.

  Afterward, he lifts my boneless body into his arms and carries me to the other side of the couch, where he sets me down gently.

  “Stay here,” he instructs.

  I fight back a smile. As if I could move.

  Moments later he’s back with a warm, wet washcloth, and he cleans me tenderly, gently wiping his seed from between my legs before gathering me back into his arms. I have never felt more cherished. I snuggle into his chest.

  “Are you going to kick me out again now like you tried to this morning?” I ask.

  His finger tilts my chin up to look at him. His chocolate eyes are unfathomable as he brushes his lips softly over mine. “No. You said you wanted to explore your boundaries, so that’s what we’re going to do. First I’m going to feed you and let you rest a little. Then I’m going to tie you up, make you come until you beg for mercy, and fuck you until you’re so incoherent my name is the only thing you can remember.”

  Chapter Seven

  Marcus

  I’m going straight to hell and I don’t even give a damn. The woman I’ve dreamed about for ten long years is sitting at my kitchen table wearing nothing but my t-shirt, shifting gingerly in the hard wooden chair as she reads my case file because her ass is red from my belt, and all I can think about is the sweet taste of her, the way she responds to my touch like she was made for me, and the way her eyes shift from a dark golden green to amber in the moment that she gives herself over to me. And I’m a fucking bastard because I know I’m going to send her home tomorrow and never speak to her again.

  I should have told her no when she asked me to punish her. I could have stopped after I used my belt on her, but there’s no way I was giving her that kind of pain without the counterbalance of indescribable pleasure that can go with it. Yin and yang. Dominance and submission. Pleasure and pain. The two merge together to create a wholeness that completes both of us like nothing else can. And to be honest, playing with her like this—the intense power play that’s so evident between us—is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before. Dominating any girl is a gift. But when a girl as strong and smart and independent as Ariana hands you her power and trust, it’s fucking intoxicating.

  Feeling my eyes on her, she looks up from the case file she’s reading and smiles at me. Damn, but she’s gorgeous.

  “Do you want some help?” she asks sweetly. “You’ve been feeding me all day.”

  “Maybe in a minute. I like feeding you. Keep reading. I’d like your input.”

  “Okay,” she says simply.

  I go back to searing the chicken breasts I’d taken out of the freezer, and after a few minutes she sets the file down on the table and comes up behind me, wrapping her arms around my waist and laying her cheek against my back. I love that even after I’ve punished her, pinned her to the back of the couch, and fucked her hard, she still has enough confidence to come to me this way. I cover the chicken and turn around so I can see her face.

  She deserves so much more than I have to give her.

  “Listen, Ari,” I begin, but she silences me with a finger pressed to my lips.

  “Don’t,” she says, her voice low. “I know this is just for tonight. But I still want it. With you.”

  She doesn’t break eye contact with me and my dick strains against my jeans.

  “Are you sure?” I ask, searching her luminous eyes.

  “Positive,” she says.

  I can see the truth in her eyes, and the yearning behind it that matches mine.

  I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I’d been holding. “Alright then. Get to work. You’d better keep up your strength,” I tease lightly, handing her a pair of salad tongs. I turn her around, press her into the edge of the counter and playfully smack her ass that’s still bare under my shirt with one swift upward stroke, appreciating the way her taut, pert, little bottom reverberates under my hand before letting her go so she can toss the salad.

  She turns back around to face me. “Ouch! My bottom’s sore.” But she’s laughing and then her eyes are widening as my hand closes around her throat and my mouth is devouring hers. And then she’s not doing anything but kissing me back, her sweet hot mouth sucking on my tongue like she’s never wanted anything more.

  While we eat, I ask her what she thinks of Bridget’s statement.

  “It seems pretty straightforward,” she says, “but I agree with you. Something’s not quite right. Something about her injuries…” She trails off as she picks up the file again, looks at the picture of Bridget immediately after the attack compared to a current photo of her, and then shakes her head as she sets it back down again. “She’s pretty. Is it possible the guys who attacked her didn’t even know about the jewelry at first?”

  “Anything’s possible,” I admit. “But if that’s the case, they probably bought a lottery ticket after they left her place.”

  “It’s odd that you have no leads at all on the guys who attacked her.” Ari skims Bridget’s statement again. “They both have brown hair, brown eyes, five-nine give or take a few inches, no facial hair, right-handed, no distinguishing birthmarks or moles…These guys could be anyone.” Ari shakes her head. “Maybe she’ll screw up somehow. Or maybe the driver will. Either way, you’ve got to figure out who the attackers were and prove either Bridget or her driver knew them.”

  I sigh. “Yep. If I don’t figure it out soon, my client’s going to end up paying the claim. But thanks for taking a look.”

  Our conversation turns to a few of her cases, and I realize how nice it is to be with an intelligent woman who understands what I do and with whom I can discuss work. In many ways she reminds me of Mila Black, one of the newest partners at my firm and my favorite work associate, although I’m not supposed to admit to that. The fact that she’s married to a fellow SEAL who happens to be one of my best friends and has given me the status of honorary uncle to their newborn baby daughter Lucy doesn’t hurt either. Ari has the same quick mind and spunky confidence that I’ve always admired in Mila.

  We take our time over dinner and wine, and then move to the hot tub. The snow has finally stopped falling and the night is clear and beautiful, the sky lit with a thousand stars. This time Ari doesn’t hesitate to strip naked before getting in, and I hold her in my lap and stroke her hair as we talk and kiss and catch up on the details of each other’s lives over the last ten years.

  “So…” she says eventually, nipping little kisses up the stubble on my jaw. “Tell me more about what I’m missing tonight at Five Pines.”

  “You aren’t going to be missing anything!” I growl as I bite her earlobe.

  She squeals and giggles and moves away. I resolutely move her back, shifting her in my lap so her ass is firmly situated over my hard-on. She wriggles against it deliberately, laughing when I groan.

  “You’re going to pay for that, gattina,” I warn.

  “Promises, promises. What are you going to do?” she teases.

  "Do you really want to know all the ways I intend to torture you?” I murmur in her ear.

  Her sharp intake of breath at my words makes me smile. She is exquisite. I have no idea how I didn't see this side of her ten years ago. Maybe I did—I had always asserted my authority with her to a certain extent and she'd always responded to it—but she'd needed the ripeness of age to fully appreciate and embrace this darkly erotic and wild, vulnerable side of herself.

  “Come on.” I help her out of the hot tub and dry her off, the careful way I attend to her a sharp contrast to the harsh way I intend to handle her tonight. Hand in hand, we walk into the darkened cabin, which is lit only by the firelight. I let go of her hand and move around the room, lighting candles and moving an upholstered armchair closer to the fire while she watches me with obvious curiosity.

  I come back and stand in front of her, holding her face between my hands as I kiss her slowly, taking her mouth with deliberate sensuality. “You look beautiful standing here naked
in the firelight,” I say softly.

  She slowly and gracefully lowers herself to her knees in front of me. At first I think it’s symbolic of her submission to me tonight, but then I realize she probably has no idea of protocol. Also, there’s the fact that she’s grabbing my already hard dick with her soft hand. I grab her hair, pulling back sharply just as her lips touch the head of my shaft. Her eyes fly up to meet mine.

  “I want to taste you,” she whispers. “I want to give you the same kind of pleasure you’ve given me.”

  I pull her to her feet by her hair. She’s going to require a firm hand or she’ll be running the show. Which she doesn’t really want to do. And god but I’m going to love taking that power from her.

  “Your pleasure is my pleasure,” I assure her. “And I promise I’ll make sure your sweet lips are fastened around my cock before the night is over. But I’ll say when.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Stop topping from the bottom. I know, I know.”

  I can’t help but laugh. She’s delightful as hell. But since I can’t let her get away with such blatant insolence, I grab one perky nipple and twist it a bit cruelly.

  “Oh,” she breathes as I pull up, forcing her onto her toes.

  As soon as I let go, I fasten my mouth over the hardened little bud, flicking it with my tongue as it grows even more rigid.

  “Oh,” she sighs.

  “Sit down.” I point to the upholstered armchair I’d pulled close to the fire. She looks puzzled, but she sits down. She appears a little less puzzled and a lot more nervous when I grab a few lengths of soft rope and instruct her to place her legs over the arms of the chair. Her breath is coming faster as I tie her open to me, her ankles secured to the front arms of the chair on either side. I lay another piece of rope on the couch next to me. I slowly circle her, my eyes drinking her in brazenly, enforcing her awareness of her vulnerable position. She squirms slightly, trying to close her legs, but of course she can’t. I rub my chin thoughtfully, staring at her.