by Rebel Rose
He pumps into me over and over, his hips smacking hard against my ass. I close my eyes, squeezing hard around his cock as he rides me hard, almost brutally. I jolt when his hand swats my hip, fast and furious. The edge of pain mixed with pleasure is a heady sensation, and I close my eyes, biting my bottom lip.
I begin trembling as Tristan brings me closer to release. Just when I think that I’m going to topple over the edge, he withdraws and leaves me so very close to orgasm.
Shit. Is he going to deny my orgasm as punishment? Probably. It’s much crueler than any kind of spanking he could give me.
“Please don’t do the edging thing, Tristan. Please.”
“I won’t if you don’t want me to, bebelle.”
“I don’t.” Even as good as it is in the end, I can’t take it right now. I’m too stimulated.
Fire ignites over my ass as his hand descends, taking my breath away. My chest heaves, and I inhale sharply as the pain fades, giving in to the euphoria. I close my eyes as blow after blow rains down on my cheeks, and I enter a hazy world that blurs around me where only bliss exists.
He moves behind me again and parts my folds. He enters me, forgoing his former roughness, and thrusts long and slow, setting a leisurely pace. His body lowers against mine and his hand finds the sensitive nub at the top of my slit between my legs. He leans down and presses his lips to my spine, kissing his way up to my nape. I don’t feel his earlier anger anymore.
“Come, bebelle. Now.”
And I do.
My orgasm floods me. It’s the sweetest, slowest spasm to ever encompass my body, setting each nerve ending on fire. I tingle from head to toe, delicious chill bumps spreading over my skin, making me hypersensitive to his touch.
His hands move to my shoulders, and he uses his grasp to hold me in place when he thrusts harder. “Oh fuck. I’m coming.”
I feel his cock jerk inside me, and then the warmth of his cum heats my body from the inside out.
Tristan’s palm flattens between my shoulder blades and works its way down to the small of my back. My hands are suddenly freed, and he coaxes me to turn over. “Come here.”
I place my hands on the bed and lift my upper body, looking at him over my shoulder. Nervous. On edge because I don’t know where his head is.
Is he still angry with me for talking to that man and gambling with his money?
Tristan pulls on my arm, and this time I go to him, but I feel overwhelmed. Confused. Mostly because I crave his consolation.
He pulls me onto his lap, wrapping his arms around me. He cradles me like a child that he’s comforting after a scuffed knee, and I cling to him as though he isn’t the person who just spanked my ass until it feels blistered.
His hand strokes the back of my hair. “I’m very pleased with you.”
I lift my face from his shoulder and our eyes connect. I thought that he was angry with me for talking to Craig and gambling with his money. “You’re pleased with me?”
“I pushed you harder this time, and you handled it beautifully. So yes, bebelle, I’m very pleased with you.”
Sometimes I wonder just how far I’d allow him to go. How hard I’d allow him to push me if it meant pleasing him.
This man is changing me. But I think that I am also changing him.
And I can’t wait to see who we become together.
10
Tristan Broussard
I open my eyes and see three red glowing numbers. Five-one-three. Not the three numbers that I need to see.
“Shit, bebelle. Get up. We overslept.”
“Hmm?” she groans.
“Get up, Emma Lia. We’re late.” Damn. I can’t believe that I fell asleep.
It was really late—or early—when Emma Lia and I stopped fucking around. I didn’t set the alarm because I was going to stick it out for the hour rather than go to sleep.
So fucking stupid.
I told Emma Lia to get a little rest, and I’d wake her when it was time to get up. But she felt so good curled around me. And I was so relaxed after coming three times. I couldn’t stop myself from drifting off into a bebelle-induced post-orgasmic coma.
“Can we make it?”
“It’s chartered. They’ll wait, but we need to get a move on so they don’t cancel on us.”
Emma Lia goes to her drawer of clothes and yanks out a top and bottom. “Sorry, but it’s going to be a leggings, tunic, and messy hair bun day. I won’t be looking my best.”
“Doesn’t matter what you’re wearing. You’re always beautiful to me.”
Emma Lia catches my attention when she pulls a pair of black lace panties up her legs. She wiggles her butt to adjust them after they’re in place. So fucking sexy.
“I smell like your cum.” She grins. “And like sex. Lots of it.”
Sweat and cum, my cum, mixed with Emma Lia’s feminine juices. Nothing in the world like the mix of those scents.
“I need a shower,” she says.
“No time. Your pussy gets to smell freshly fucked by me until we get home.” I don’t hate that she’ll have my mark on her all day.
A wicked grin grows on her face. “A nice reminder of last night’s fuck-a-thon.”
It was indeed a fuck-a-thon.
I have no idea how we pull it off, but we’re walking out the door within fifteen minutes of crawling out of bed.
Emma Lia holds up her hand for a high five. “Nice teamwork, Mr. Broussard.”
I like hearing her call me that. Reminds me of our Mr. and Mrs. scene when we arrived. “We make a great team.”
The minute we’re in the air, Emma Lia’s head leaves my shoulder and we recline our seats. “See you in New Orleans.”
“Sweet dreams, bebelle.” Mrs. Broussard.
I sleep off and on during our flight home, but mostly off. I’ve never been a great sleeper during travel. Not the case for Emma Lia. She is curled into a ball and leaning against the window. Her breath is steady, and every now and then I hear a soft snore.
I’m feeling restless, so I forgo closing my eyes and crack open Emma Lia’s The Thorn Birds novel. Once we reach full altitude, the flight attendant makes her way back to check on us. “May I get you or your wife anything?”
Here we go again with the whole my wife thing, but I don’t mind the charade. Especially when it involves my fucking Mrs. Broussard into oblivion. “I think that my wife is fine, but I’ll take a Jack and Coke.”
The flight home feels so long. Probably because Emma Lia sleeps most of the way, and I’m left to entertain myself. “I enjoy traveling, but it always feels so good to come home.”
“Traveling always makes me feel icky. And it doesn’t help that I didn’t get a shower this morning,” she says.
“I have an idea. Go upstairs and get into the tub while I get our bags out of the car. And when I’m finished, I’ll join you.”
She giggles. “I have a very strong feeling that if you get in the tub with me, you’ll end up owing me eight keys instead of seven.”
I owe her seven key pulls?
Mother. Fucker.
“Seven? Are you sure?”
“The first time was when I was Mrs. Broussard. Two was showgirl-flogger night. Three was after the spanking you gave me for talking to Craig at the blackjack table. Four was the night after we played craps until midnight. Five was after the big-stakes poker game. Six happened after you flogged me for the second time. And last night makes seven.”
Damn. She’s right. I’ve been too busy enjoying her to notice how many key pulls she’s been earning. And she’s not even counting the morning sex that we had. Guess she’s considering those as vanilla encounters and not charging me for them.
Fuck, these keys are going faster than I intended. And honestly, I thought that Emma Lia enjoyed our trip. I wouldn’t have expected her to bring up the keys as soon as we walk through the door.
“Come on. Let’s go pull your keys.” And get that shit over with.
“It’s okay. I can do
it after my bath.”
“I’d rather you do it now.” I can’t sit here worrying about this for one minute longer than necessary.
She follows me to my office, and I unlock the cabinet where I’m storing the box of keys and move it to my desk. She sighs and closes her eyes, reaching in and pulling out the first key. “One.”
She repeats the process until seven brass keys are lined up along the edge of my desk. She picks up the first key and inserts it into the lock, turning it. And nothing happens.
Thank fuck.
She shakes her head. “Not this one.”
She goes through the same process six more times, holding up the final key. “Last one, Broussard. Do you think this could be it?”
“I’m not finished with you and fate knows it. So, no. This key won’t fit the lock either.”
She pushes the key in, but nothing happens when she turns it. “You are correct. Fate seems content for me to stay with you a while longer.”
Relief washes through me like a wave rushing over a beach. But then that consolation that I feel recedes when I consider that maybe next time she will pull the key that works.
“Go on and get your bath.”
“Are you still getting into the bath with me?”
I shake my head. “I just gave you seven key pulls. Seven, bebelle. I’m not ready to give you another one.”
“O… kay. But you know where to find me if you should change your mind.”
I bring our bags up and begin unpacking while Emma Lia soaks in the tub. I go still and listen when I hear her singing at the top of her lungs. I chuckle deep down because it’s so damn bad.
“Tell me you love me,” she belts out.
“Are you seriously entertained by that horrid sound?”
I look up and see Claudia standing in the doorway of my bedroom. “I am, but only because it’s so terrible.”
“Does Miss Mundane think that she can sing?”
“She knows that she sounds horrible, yet she doesn’t care.” I love that about her.
Claudia walks into my bedroom toward me, but my glare stops her in her tracks. “You know that you aren’t allowed in here without an invitation. And I didn’t invite you.”
“Do you make her stand in the doorway and wait for an invitation?” she asks.
“I did in the beginning.”
“But you don’t now? She gets to come into your bedroom whenever she likes?”
“Emma Lia and I have a different kind of relationship. What we have makes me feel really good inside.” And I’ve never had that feeling before.
“You aren’t a Dom with her. And she for damn sure isn’t a submissive.”
And here we go again. “We’re everything that I need us to be and more.” So much more.
She steps toward me and I hold up my hand, cueing her to stop. And she does. “I miss you, Tristan. I miss us.”
“The sooner you find your new Dom, the sooner that’ll come to an end. Speaking of, how is the search going?”
“I’ve told you that I don’t want anyone else.”
“Which means you haven’t been looking.”
“I can’t.”
That shit just makes my blood boil. “You must, Claudia. You don’t have a choice. And I’m tiring of telling you.”
“I’ve been thinking about it, and I see no reason that you can’t have both of us.”
There have been times when I would have entertained that idea. Probably even been eager for a polyamorous relationship but not since Emma Lia came into my life. “Not interested.”
“It wouldn’t have to be threesomes if that’s not what you want. You could split your time between us.”
“No, Claudia. I don’t want that.”
“I wouldn’t tell her if you wanted to keep our being together a secret.”
“I don’t know how else to tell you so that you’ll understand. I don’t want you. I only want her.” I’m so fucking tired of trying to convince Claudia of this. “Don’t bring this up again. I don’t want to hear it anymore.”
“Tristan…”
I point at the door. “Out of my room. Now. And don’t come back in here again. In fact, don’t even be on this floor.”
I don’t want Emma Lia to see Claudia anywhere near here. Ever. Finding me with my former submissive, especially in the place where I once dominated her… fuck, I can’t think of many things that would be more disastrous at this point in my Dom-sub relationship with Emma Lia. She would lose every bit of trust that I’ve worked so hard to build with her. And that can’t happen.
Emma Lia is stretched on her side, her feet touching the side of my thigh, watching television while I go over some of the proposals for the new Vegas casino. Nothing about the way that we’re touching is sexual, but I like the closeness.
“I’m tired.”
“Would you like to go up and turn in early?”
“Guess that depends on what you have planned for tonight.”
I hold up the stack of papers in my hand. “This is what I have planned for tonight.”
“Oh.” She turns onto her back and wiggles her toes against my leg. “You won’t be coming to my bedroom or asking me to visit yours?”
The truth is that I’d like nothing more than for her to come to my bedroom tonight and stay until morning. I’ve enjoyed waking with her every day this week, but that won’t happen without my owing her a key. And she’s pulling too many, too fast.
“I have a lot of work to do on the new casino. I’ll probably be busy for the next few hours.”
“All right. I think I’ll go to bed early then.” She sits up and slides over to me, placing a soft kiss against my mouth. “Good night.”
“Good night, bebelle.”
I end up working much longer than planned. It’s two in the morning by the time I crawl into my bed. I close my eyes and lie there thinking of Emma Lia in the neighboring room. At least a dozen times, I consider getting up and going to her room. And I would if it weren’t for those fucking keys.
I spit in my hand and reach into my boxers, grip my hardening cock. I glide it up and down, imagining that Emma Lia is riding my cock.
Yeah, I liked it when she got on top. And I want her to do it again. Soon.
I open my eyes and see Emma Lia’s shadow in the doorway between our bedrooms. Like an obedient submissive, she waits for my invitation. And I don’t disappoint. “Come here, bebelle.”
I throw the covers back and she climbs into bed on top of me, placing one leg over my pelvis so she’s straddling me. She leans forward, her elbows pressed into the pillow on each side of my head and kisses my mouth. I place my hands on her thighs and move them upward until they reach her bare cheeks. “Bebelle, I believe you have forgotten your panties.”
She kisses my mouth slowly, but something about it feels different. Less in synch. Almost clumsy. And desperate.
I pull my mouth away from hers. “I can’t give you another key. Not this soon.” I pause a moment. “If we do this, it has to be a freebie. Vanilla. Are you willing to do that?”
“Mmm-hmm.”
“Okay. If you’re giving it to me freely then you know that I’m willing.”
Emma Lia moves down my body, kissing every inch until she’s kneeling between my legs. She hooks her fingers into my waistband and tugs. I lift my hips and she drags my sleep pants down my legs.
She lowers her body to mine, bringing us close enough to touch, but she isn’t pressing her weight against me. Her nightgown is slick when she climbs upward to straddle me again. She arches back, and my erection presses against her warm entrance.
I place my hands on her stomach and glide them up her silky gown. I palm her tits, her hands covering mine, and her nipples harden beneath my touch. She moans when I squeeze lightly, and that’s when I notice that her breasts don’t feel the same. They’re firm, round, unmoving. And her moan doesn’t sound like what I’ve become accustomed to hearing.
This is all wrong.
I push her off of me and lean over to twist the switch on the lamp.
Son. Of. A. Bitch.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
Claudia moves to her knees and crawls toward me. “I want you to make love to me.”
“We don’t make love. We never have, plus I’ve told you over and over that I don’t want you. Mother! Fucker! What in the hell is wrong with you that you can’t hear what I’m telling you?”
She just snuck into my bedroom from Emma Lia’s room and led me to believe that she was mon bebelle. This goes well beyond anything reasonable.
“I love you, Tristan. I can’t let go of us.”
“You don’t have a fucking choice. I. Let. You. Go.”
Emma Lia appears in the doorway between our bedrooms, her eyes wide when she sees Claudia in my bed. “Well, I guess this explains why you didn’t want me to come to your bed tonight.”
“Bebelle… this is not what it looks like.”
She shakes her head. “Damn, Tristan. I wouldn’t expect a Dom to be so fucking cliché.”
“I’m not being fucking cliché. I’m being fucking serious.”
“Do us both a favor and don’t insult me. Call a spade a spade.”
“I didn’t invite her into my bed.” I look at Claudia. “Tell her what you did.”
Claudia shrugs and smiles.
“You. Fucking. Bitch.”
“This woman is your long-term submissive, Tristan, and you’re cueing her to cover for you.”
“She’s my former submissive,” I correct. “Former, as in I no longer want her.”
“She doesn’t look former from where I’m standing.” I see pain in mon bebelle’s eyes as she looks at Claudia on my bed, wearing what I now recognize as lingerie that I chose for Emma Lia. It’s the ivory piece with ruffles and a bow between the breasts. It’s the sweet one I asked her to wear on vanilla night.
Emma Lia whirls around and stalks into her bedroom, slamming the door behind her.
Fuck.
Fuck.
Fuck! This is not good.
“A real submissive wouldn’t dare do that to her Master.”