“Besides this one?” I asked.
Dean winked. “Yes. The other best.”
“Hmm...” Excluding those spent with Charlie in my early twenties, I’d had a bunch of good birthdays. I chewed a bite and pondered the question, then grinned when I remembered the one I’d spent in Hawaii with Selby. “I’ll go with twenty-five. Selby and I went to Kauai.”
“That sounds fun.”
“It was,” I said, my head bobbing as I reminisced. “We were both single, and we kicked it up. Lots of flirting, dancing and drinking.” I shook my head. “Selby would say too much drinking.”
“That strikes me as something she would say.”
“Yeah, she doesn’t do hangovers often, and she had a pretty nasty one that trip. I don’t think ending up on a boat the next day helped much.”
“Ouch.”
“Yep. But in spite of that, the rest of the time was great. We did a bunch of hiking and sightseeing. Tanning. There was a lot of that.”
“Why do I get the feeling you ladies got into trouble doing even that?”
I winked.
“Just what I thought.”
Cupping the hand Dean had rested on my thigh, I said, “I like sharing stories with you.”
He pecked my cheek. “I do, too. Are you having fun?”
“Oh, yes. This whole trip is making me happy. You’re spoiling me.”
“You deserve it.”
Both of us took another bite. Sitting there in the café, anticipating whatever Monterey had to offer for the rest of our time together, I was so content with him. All the tension between us over the last month had drifted away, replaced by this close, comfortable sensation. I felt settled, light and warm. As if backing my thoughts, the sun kept trying to peek out from behind the thick fog that wafted through to embrace us, and I tilted my head to Dean’s shoulder over the last few bites of our meal.
He might have discounted it, but I had a feeling this might get logged as my best birthday ever.
* * *
After a short visit to the aquarium, we’d returned to our suite with an overwhelming desire to press ourselves close once more. Dean had hardly shut the door behind us before he grabbed me up into his arms, kissing me with deep, slow sweeps of his tongue as he backed us to the couch.
“Your lips are salty,” he said, smacking his for a moment with a glisten in his eye.
“Are they?” I broke long enough to observe him, then dove in for more, and Dean stumbled on the shoe he kicked off. I giggled against his mouth, but once he steered our bodies to lay us back on the couch, I slipped deeper into his kiss, as if the cloudy, chilly air outside had drawn us closer together. I melted against him while he lowered us down, keeping his arms around me and guiding me on top of him to stretch us along the couch’s surface. Except when Dean’s shoulders hit the couch cushion, his smooth endeavor was interrupted by him shooting upright.
“Ow.”
I sat back at his wince. Dean reached behind him to fumble around and held up my hairbrush. I must’ve left it there before we’d headed out for brunch, and I covered my mouth with a grimace. “Oh! Oops. Sorry...”
Dean shook his head. “Who leaves a hairbrush on a couch?” When he waved the brush around, I shrugged.
“Me? I’m sorry. Did it hurt?”
Dean eyed the paddle brush. “I’m fine.”
I’d lain on the damn thing on my bed before and knew the wire prongs weren’t pleasant, but with him falling back as hard as he had, it couldn’t have felt great. I flashed a toothy smile. “I probably deserve it for that.”
Dean lowered the brush to the couch surface beside him, curiosity lighting his face as my grin stretched wider. “What do you mean by that, Maya?”
“Maybe I deserve a good lesson.” At this, Dean’s eyebrow lifted. I don’t know what came over me, but I pointed at the hairbrush, a quiver of excitement tickling my arms at the idea that popped into my head. “Well?” I said, my voice quiet. “Who does leave a hairbrush on the couch?” The look on his face hadn’t ceased when I stood up, but I stepped close to him, jutting my hip toward his face. I strummed my fingers along his jaw, and Dean cocked his head. “So, maybe...maybe I deserve some sort of punishment for that.”
Dean’s mouth fell open, his nostrils flaring. I stroked his neck, goading him on, a flurry of tingles dancing into my stomach in my wait for his response. “I thought you didn’t like the idea of punishment.”
I pursed my lips, then dropped my voice into a low, sultry tone. This far in, the air clear and that whole frustration a distant memory made it easy to be open and honest. “I said, I don’t like the idea of punishment when I haven’t done anything wrong.” I lifted my fingers back into Dean’s hair, dragging my nails along his scalp to elicit a sharp inhalation from him, and with him still holding on to the hairbrush, my heart started to pound at the awareness flooding his eyes. “I liked the spanking for the sake of the spanking, but if I’ve actually done something wrong,” I said, spinning slowly around until my back faced him and I could glance coyly over my shoulder, “even minorly wrong...then, I guess that could warrant a good, stern lesson. Couldn’t it?”
I lifted my sweater and hooked my thumbs under the waistband of my leggings, gnawing my bottom lip as I started to tease them down, one side at a time.
Dean whispered, “Are you baiting me?”
“Maybe...” I stalled when the slow drag of my leggings had exposed a few inches of my ass, and I clenched my elbows into my sides to keep my sweater in place before I winked. “I guess the question is, what if I am, Dean? What happens then?”
His eyes glittered, his lips turning up in a smile as he set the hairbrush aside.
Then he dove.
In under a second, Dean had grabbed onto my hips and yanked me into his lap. I squealed. His hands came furiously between my thighs. He shoved his fingers up to rub me through my leggings as he took a bite of my neck and held me firmly in his arms. “Is that what you want, kitten? A lesson?” His gruff tone sparked a fire deep in my pussy, and my eyes fluttered shut, my body exploding in pins and needles at the press of his fingers.
I moaned, “Yes. Please...”
Dean coiled my hair around his fingers to jerk back my head, the move revving me up more than I could fathom. A million wildfires lit every inch of my scalp before he said, “Then get over my lap, naughty.”
I didn’t hesitate.
I turned to crawl over his lap, positioning my hips over his thighs and stretching out along the length of the couch. My pores felt alive and my pulse throbbed in my veins. For a second, I wondered what the fuck I’d done, encouraging this—but when Dean started rubbing his palm over the fabric that covered my ass, I sucked in a breath. Arousal teased me in a gush of moisture between my thighs and a tightness in my belly.
“That hairbrush definitely wasn’t pleasant,” Dean said. He gave my ass a tap. He sounded like he was thinking on what to say, and I giggled again at the circle of his palm over my leggings, first on one cheek, then the other. He grabbed the waistband where I’d left it, tugging it down another couple of inches while I wriggled in his lap to allow him access. Once he had the elastic eased down below the crease between my ass and thighs and my uncovered mound rested against his jeans, his breath over my skin spread a shiver through me. Our room was far warmer than it had been outside, but the flesh of my ass cheeks goose bumped at the slide of his other hand up to coil his fingers back into my hair. I shut my eyes, convinced my body would take flight any second before his hand came down in a warm-up snap against my ass cheek. It curved sensation around that side of my pelvis, which magnified when he asked, “How would you feel about it against your ass, I wonder?”
Oh, God. Dean reached for the brush, and I tried to steady my breath before he rested the back of it on my ass. The wood felt cold, so cold, b
ut with the gentle skim of it over my cheeks, I dug my toes into the end of the couch.
“Go slow,” I breathed.
“I will. If you promise to tell me if it’s too much.”
I lifted my head to acknowledge his request against the grip of his hand in my hair, and Dean circled the brush over the cheek farthest from him. I didn’t understand how its rough surface could wind me up, but as Dean lifted the brush to poise it above me, my exposed flesh awaited his next move. Dean tapped me with it softly, then again, and when he repeated the motion on my other cheek, I cinched my knees together. The pressure of his hand in my hair drove me mad, but the crawl of that wooden texture over my ass intrigued me. I couldn’t stop the moan that fell from my lips once Dean grasped my hair tighter. He bounced the brush off both my cheeks a few more times in soft taps to continue warming me up. I almost laughed at the irony.
Way to go, Maya. Bring a paddle hairbrush along and tell your boyfriend to punish you with it.
That was clearly the aim with his next strike. Dean brought the brush down a little harder, and I gasped. The smacking sound rattled my senses, the clap on my flesh far more abrupt than his hand or the lash of the flogger had been.
This was going to hurt.
“You okay?”
“So far, yes.”
“Okay.” He tightened his hand in my hair, my nipples pebbling and my clit aching. The skin of my ass waited for more. I waited for more. Dean swished the brush over my buttocks, and once he pulled it away, the air lapping at my flesh increased the fluttering in my core. He struck me a touch harder and I jumped with a groan. “Would you say you shouldn’t have left it out, Maya?”
“Maybe not,” I said, grinning.
Dean brought the brush down in a firm swipe at this, the entire paddle flush against the curve of my ass in a shock that jerked up my shoulders. Holy fuck, did it sting. My skin shrieked, and I tried to lower my face to the couch cushion, but Dean’s hold on my hair wasn’t giving me leeway. I tongued my lips in a hopeless attempt to soothe the burn that slowly subsided in the upper layer of my flesh.
“You all right?”
“I think so,” I said, taking steady inhalations. Dean lessened the intensity in his next series of pats, but my nerves grew more sensitive and raw. Each time the brush made contact, I rocked in his lap, the rub of my clit adding a lick of pleasure to the pain of the brush. The combination drove me mad, my breathing picking up pace until he stopped for what felt like an eternity. When he finally rested the brush on my ass cheek, the move was so subtle I clenched every muscle in my body. I counted seconds, his breath, mine, the room a vortex of heat, sweat and anticipation. Then he drew the brush back suddenly, swatting me surprisingly hard and drawing a yelp from me.
“Fuck, wow!” I cringed at the stifling pressure spreading through my pelvis and clutched my fingers tighter together.
“How does it feel, naughty girl?”
“Sharp. Hard.” The sound of the next strike on fleshy skin echoed in the room, and I whimpered as my heart thundered within the confines of my chest. Once Dean struck my other cheek, I wheezed. “Fuck...fuck. That stings.”
He let go of the brush, leaving it in rest on my ass cheek while he slipped his fingers between my thighs to calm the storm of my pulse. He knew me too well, his stroke of my pussy lips making me groan before he issued a satisfied grunt.
“God, you’re wet.” His fingers snuck knuckle deep inside. Stars flickered behind my eyelids at the steady plunge of his fingers and his deliberate smear of my wetness over my folds. Next he dug his fingers between his jeans and my body, giving my clit a firm rub.
“Oh, shit!”
“You like that?”
“Yes. Yes!”
But Dean took his hand away. His determination to torture me yanked a cry from my throat. He said, “I’m not sure you’ve earned that yet.”
Oh my God.
Dean grabbed the brush and hit me again. The first strike was soft on one cheek, but hard on the other. I jumped in his lap and thrust my feet into the arm of the couch, fighting against the hold he still had on my hair until Dean released it to drag his palm over my back. He held me in place with a loop around my waist, then he took another swipe with the hairbrush. This last time, the wood stung in a blindingly sharp blister of pain that shot through the entirety of my pelvis and up my back. I shrieked.
“Fuck! Too much!”
Dean tossed the brush onto the floor. My ass burned, and I was hyperaware of the sound of our breaths when he carefully palmed my cheeks to temper the shock of my skin. His hold on my side loosened, his fingers sweet and caressing pleasure from where the brush had drawn pain. I relaxed my shoulders, exhaling a gusty wind.
“You okay, love?”
“Yes.” I lowered my head to my hands. The skin of my ass tingled, but his touch felt good, as did the hard-on I’d noticed growing beneath his jeans to rub up against me since shortly after we’d begun. I tilted my head to see him. “But no more, please. Too sharp.”
“Ever?”
“No. Just not now.”
Dean was quiet for a moment. The sweep of his palm soothed, as did his low, gruff voice. “I like that you’re telling me exactly what you like. I’ve always found that sexy, Maya.” I smiled at the words, succumbing to his rub of my ass until the slow glide of his fingers between my cheeks contradicted the calm. The move bid forth the excitement that had burned in me not long ago, a steam swarming my head to challenge my breathing again. “Just like I found that moment incredibly sexy.” I moaned once he eased apart my ass cheeks to graze a finger over my hole, but he kept teasing his finger down. He tipped it inside the rim of my cunt as I canted my hips. My mind danced between the residual sting of my skin and the rush of his touch before he pulsed his fingers inside my opening. “Did you?”
“Oh, yes.” I rocked in his lap. There was no denying the pleasure threatening to spike in me, my nerve endings sensitive to his touch. Dean slipped another finger inside, both of them tantalizing the shake of my walls with the hitch of his knee.
“Now I think it’s safe to say you’ve earned that reward.”
The words sounded far away with Dean’s fingers stroking a fire that disarmed and consumed. I arched my back with a cry, and he worked his fingers in deeper, his hold on my ass the entire time. His hardened cock dug up into my hip with the way he had me positioned, but I didn’t move save to lift up my hips, or to nibble on the side of my thumb as he increased the pace of his thrusts. When ecstasy started to brim, Dean jerked away his fingers and clapped his palm on the back of my thigh.
“Get on my lap. Climb on me, you naughty thing. I’ve got to feel you. Now.”
My head spun. I moved where he directed, his hands steering me into a straddle over him. Once I hovered above, he wrestled open his fly, shoving his jeans far enough down to free his cock for me. His eyes slit as he watched my face. My forehead and cheeks were numb, bliss teetering near with how much he’d wound me up, and the feel of him aligning his cock with my entrance before grabbing onto my hips. He jerked me down over him and I groaned, the wave threatening to crest at the mere drive of his cock along my sensitive tissues.
He reached the deepest parts of me and breathed, “How do you feel so amazing, love?”
I had no voice, and I surrendered when Dean stayed ensconced but guided my arms around his neck. He regripped my hips as he caught my nipple between his teeth and bit it, starting to steer me with the dig of his thumbs into my hip bones. Lifting me up and jamming me back down, he bucked his hips to slide deep inside. Already, I was soaring, hitching my shoulders up and curling my fingertips into the back of his neck. Dean’s breath grew windy when he released my nipple, and with his eyes glassy, his mouth open, he kept his hold firm on my hips to slam me down over him. I was on edge, ready to leap out of my head even before Dean growled.
I obeyed and brought my hands between us. I was caught up in Dean’s thrusts and his raspy voice, in the way I could tell he wouldn’t last long. But I wouldn’t, either. Not with how good he felt, or how ferociously he plowed into me while my body hovered on the precipice like this. The pressure of my fingers made me moan again and again. I pulled back the hood of my clit to better rub the exposed knot, and Dean bounced his stare between my eyes and my fingers.
“Such a good girl...oh, yes.” He took an abrupt swat of my ass. I shifted up, then came down hard with a gasp at how full I felt around him. Once he moved faster, I pressed the pads of two fingers hard into my clit, massaging to keep up with Dean’s rhythmic thrusts. When my climax burst into focus, it tumbled like an avalanche through my body. Dean’s lifts of me on his cock grew frenzied and rough until I shuddered above him.
“Yes, Dean!”
“Oh, fuck...oh, fuck! Yes!”
I quaked. My fingers were limp, my entire body seized in the pleasure that tore me apart as Dean bit my shoulder and came to the spasms of my cunt.
“Christ,” he groaned. He caught my mouth in a kiss and encircled me in his arms to clutch me tight against him. We stayed like that, trembling and weak, but grinning as our come leaked down to make a delicious mess of us.
Chapter Thirteen
Dean and I had slipped into a nap on the couch after he’d stripped off his clothes and we’d cleaned up, our arms wrapped tight around one another. We didn’t wake till much later to discover a dimming sky outside the room’s windows. We’d been too lazy to head out again, so we’d thrown on the matching robes that hung on the bathroom hook and ordered dinner and champagne through room service. Once we’d both cleared our plates, famished from the day of sex and salty air, Dean put his glass on the coffee table. He grabbed the ties of my robe and tugged me toward him on the couch.
“Let’s take a bath,” he said.
“Yes, please.” It was a treat I loved on my own, but here, with Dean, that spa tub in front of the mirror had been calling my name since we’d first walked through the door to the suite.
The Discipline Page 16