Max sat on the bed beside her. “Sore?”
“Yes.” She rolled over to present her ass. “See what you did?”
He traced a red line, pushed a spot, making her wince. “I see it. How do you feel about this?”
“I don’t know.” She sat up. “Ow. Hurts.”
“It will. I went hard, Casey.”
“I asked you to. And you delivered.” She gave a rueful glance at his hand. “You’re strong.”
“Was it what you wanted, this time?” His voice was quiet but intense.
Chapter Twenty
She met his eyes. “Yes. Thank you. My mind was completely zoned out, free of everything. It was amazing. I feel so relaxed and just, cleansed. Not because it was a punishment,” she added, seeing his eyes narrow. “From the intensity. The trust. The physical sensations. It was perfect.”
“For me, too.” His voice was tender. “Being the one who gets to control you and then bring you to bliss, that’s a fucking rush you can’t even understand.”
“So you like sex like this?”
He laughed, but touched her chin. “Obviously, I love it. Are you asking if I need it like this all the time?” His face was curious.
She nodded. “I guess.”
“You mean do I need to spank someone every time I’m with her?”
“Yes.” She bit her lip.
“No, I don’t. In fact, when I have a regular partner—although it’s been a while—I prefer to mix things up, you know? The same thing every time gets boring. And something this intense, you really can’t do it every night. I don’t think there’s a human being on Earth who could handle that every week, let alone every night.” He ran his hand over her ass. “I like spanking you, and there a ton of other things I’d like to try with you, too. A whole encyclopedia of kinky wonders.”
She ran her hand up his arm. “When you talked dirty to me, it made me so crazy. I really, really like that.”
He breathed out, and for a second she thought he’d been nervous. “I’m glad.” He touched her cheek. “Were you okay with me calling you a dirty girl and a slut? You know I didn’t really mean that.”
“Oh, you didn’t? I was looking forward to crawling for you.” She gave him a fake pout, and he raised one eyebrow, his body tensing.
“Oh, I want you to crawl for me,” he said in a silky, dangerous voice. “And beg. But—you know I mean it affectionately, yes? Not that you’re a slut in the pejorative moral sense that society attributes to people of whom they disapprove. When I call you a slut, it’s a term of endearment, something I say only because I care for you enough to want to defile you in ways you love.”
“Yes. I got that.” She gave him an eye roll.
“Just checking.” He grinned. “Did you really mean it, that you were a second away from promising to suck my dick twice a day?”
She pushed him. “That’s for me to know and for you to—”
“To find out?” He pushed her backwards onto the bed, laughing, and pushed her hands back into the mattress. “I think I have some very good methods to get information out of you, my love.” Casey startled at his tone, and he looked away, flushing. “How about you drink your water and then we’ll talk a little more.”
“Okay.” She sat up again and took the glass. “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Really? You had me fooled.” But his expression held concern. “Don’t know how to do what?”
She waved her hand. “How do I deal with the aftermath?” She touched her hip, but she was thinking more of the emotional ramifications.
“Some people enjoy their bruises and marks,” Max said. “It reminds them of their submission, of their sexuality, of their passion.”
“What if I hate feeling sore the next day?” she frowned.
“Did you hate it last time?”
“No. I liked it,” she confided, flushing. “Part of the time.” She hadn’t liked thinking of Hunter’s angry face. She had loved feeling the residual sting and thinking of Max’s voice. Bad girl. “But what if it’s different, this time?”
Max touched her shoulder. “Then you won’t do that again, Casey. Life’s about learning and compromise. I wouldn’t ask you to do something you don’t fundamentally enjoy on some base level. Nor should you ask it of yourself.”
“But did you like it?”
“I fucking loved it.” His voice was hoarse. “Baby, there’s nothing I like better than spanking a willing woman and having her do what I say, when I say it, because we both love it. I love having a strong woman submit to me in bed because she loves every single damn thing I do to her body, even when it hurts, especially when it hurts.”
She nodded. “Good. Speaking of hurt. Do you have any of that magic lotion?”
He laughed. “No, but I’ll find something in your bathroom that works. I saw regular skin lotion in there.”
* * *
Later, lying on her stomach, letting him rub lotion into her ass and thighs, Casey still felt floaty and high. The room was warm and bright, and his hands felt good, touching and soothing her. She felt cherished and safe. “How does it look?” she asked, her voice muffled by the pillow.
“To me it looks fantastic,” admitted Max. “You’re still red and blotchy. If you were mine,” he swallowed hard, “we’d have a good long talk about how much you like and can handle for next time, and how often we can do this. This is a rare treat, baby, the kind of thing that people can’t do all that often. You know that, right? This isn’t everyday fare for submissives.”
“So this is as hard as you go?”
“For you, yes. Maybe less, next time. I can get you to the same place with less, Casey. I like making you sore, but only because it gets us both turned on. If you like it hard like this, often, we would need to figure out how to work up to it to toughen up your ass so you can handle this without bruising. Over time, you build up a tolerance. But there are a million different ways to play together. You have no idea what I can do for you. “
“Hmmm.” She wanted to find out. “Do you think I’ll hurt all week?”
“Tomorrow might be rough. After a few days, barely enough pain to make you wonder if it’s sore or not.”
“So weird.” She yawned. “I secretly always wanted to be spanked to see how I’d like it. Most women want diamond earrings and fancy dinners. I guess I’m just special.”
His voice held a spark. “You make special look shriveled and spoiled.”
She laughed. “Now you’ll give me a mental orgasm.”
“They’re all mental.”
“Shut up.” She reached back to swat ineffectively at him, giggling. “You know what I mean.”
“Yeah.”
He stopped rubbing, then pulled the sheet over them both and pulled her into his arms. “Speaking of mental orgasms… get some rest, Casey, because we still have round two.”
“We do?”
“Yes. And I’m still technically in charge here, so I recommend you obey me.” His grin was warm, though, and she snuggled into his arms.
“Okay.”
* * *
When she awoke, it was five thirty a.m., and the gray light of false dawn hung over the room like dust. She flung out her arm and found Max, sighed in relief, and rolled into his body. He was warm and solid beside her, and in his sleep he murmured and put his arm over her protectively, said something she couldn’t understand.
She propped herself up on one elbow to look at him. His lashes fluttered, and his breathing was even. His chest, impressively muscled, rose and fell, and she put one hand on his skin to feel his heart beat.
Max. She’d spent the night with Max, and had the most wild, dangerous, kinky sex of her entire life. She rolled onto her back and bit her lip—yikes. Even more sore than the time with Max and Hunter. And it felt fucking amazing. For a second a trickle of fear ran through her, fear at what she was discovering about herself, and the fear triggered arousal, and she was so turned on then that she wanted to straddle Max in his
sleep.
Instead, she went to the bathroom and brushed her teeth, started coffee in the kitchen, and found oatmeal in the cupboard; it only took a few minutes to get some started on the stove. He was right—the fridge was empty, with only some vegetables and beverages and a random bottle of ketchup.
She took some ibuprofen just in case, and sat at the kitchen table, trying to imagine his life, his apartment. He said he wasn’t as rich as Hunter, but he was clearly well off with that car, his lifestyle. Somehow she thought that their things would blend better, and it had nothing to do with money. Max would laugh at her cow mug. In fact, she decided she’d serve him coffee in it and see if he commented on the words, and she smiled, thinking about how he got her jokes and made his own. He was—fun.
In a few minutes he came into the room, blinking, rubbing his hair. “Casey? Did anyone ever explain to you a little concept called sleeping in? It’s pretty fun. I suggest you give it a whirl sometime.”
She smiled and pushed coffee to him. “I don’t sleep well. I’m restless and I usually get up early, no matter how tired I am.” She looked at the window, where a faint golden glow tracked the horizon, a thin line of molten promise. “But it means I get to see a lot of sunrises.” She pointed. “Look.”
Max took the coffee and sipped, then directed his attention to the view. Casey watched the line diffuse, paints touched by water, spreading up and out to color the sky. “It’s soothing.”
Max watched with her, then glanced at the mug and did a double take, and started laughing. “Casey! This is priceless. Where did you find it?”
“Chinatown.” She grinned. “It’s my favorite thing in the world, nearly.”
“You’d like Japan. The T-shirts there are incredible. Better than the vending machines. Sorry I didn’t have any pictures of those for your friend, by the way.” He sipped the coffee. “Sometimes I almost want to halt the globalization of English just to preserve the eccentricities that come about from faulty language perception.”
“What do you mean?”
“This.” He took his phone. “Pictures of signs on my last business trip. Each is better than the last.”
Carefully Fall To The River
Note to drivers: Do not please throw illegal anus out window.
As a Beautiful Environment Is on all of Us, please omnivorously put waste in garbage can.
Because You Are Dangerous. You Must Not Enter.
She laughed. “But I think I’m not so shallow that I’d appreciate this most. I promise you, I’ve always dreamed of enjoying the culture, the art, the nature, and the people. But yeah, the signs would be a nice bonus.”
She watched the sky some more. “Will you always have to travel so much?”
“This year for sure. A lot of trips to Asia to meet with business partners. I like it, but it gets old, doing it alone all the time. Want me to get that?” He pointed to the oatmeal on the stove. “Where are your bowls?”
“Up there. Thanks.” She pointed and smiled, watching him make his way around her kitchen, looking a little awkward but determined, and found that she was ravenous when he put the bowl of cereal in front of her. “Oh, my God. I’m starving.”
“Well, I don’t want to brag, but I worked you pretty hard last night.” He smirked, and she rolled her eyes.
“Brag much? I worked you right back.”
“That you did.” He touched his shoulders. “I know there’s no comparison pain-wise, but you marked me, too.”
“I did?” She jumped up. “Let me see. Oh, my God. I really scraped you good. This looks like—like a tiger mauled you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “It was that animal documentary, wasn’t it? I knew I should have put it on the church channel while you were drooling on my shoulder. Then you’d worship me instead of rip me up.”
“Stop joking. I made you bleed.” She felt sick. “I had no idea. I was just in the moment.”
“I know. I don’t mind scratches from you. And even if I did, you were enjoying yourself so much, there was no way I’d stop you. It will remind me of your touch all week, when I see them and feel them.” He shrugged. “Fair’s fair.”
“So we’re both marked.” There was something satisfying in that.
“Mmm. You put your signature on me.” He sounded pleased. “You turned me into your personal canvas.”
“Look who’s talking.” She flipped up her robe to show him her ass.
“Show me that again and I’m going to bend you over the table,” he growled.
“After we eat.” She shoveled in the oatmeal, needing the nourishment, idly running through her budget and shopping list. It was her turn for groceries; she’d get a few veggies to start at the Chinese market because they had good prices, and some chicken. Later in the week, the local grocery would have the discount veggies. “Echo and I make a great Thai chicken curry,” she commented. “You want to come eat with us one night?”
“You going to invite me for dinner?” His voice was low, and startled, she blinked at him.
“Yes.” Her face reddened. She felt unsure of what was going to happen with him. Living in the moment was easy; thinking about the future—what it held for her, him, Hunter—that was more complex.
“I would love that.” He cleared his throat.
“Well then.” But she didn’t offer a date or time, right now she was unable to process something that mentally advanced. She put the bowls in the sink and came to his body, hugged him from behind, resting her chin on his shoulder. “Thanks for last night.”
“Why don’t you thank me when we’re done.”
“I—what?”
He stood up, his face predatory. “I still owe you something.”
She backed away. “Max! I’m too sore.”
“Not that. I pushed you last night as far as I ever will, pain-wise, or marks. No more until you heal. But. I promised you two things. First, a long punishment. And second, the mental aspect. You game?” He raised an eyebrow.
“Bring it on.” Her body was full of nervous energy; not sure what he had planned, she could only guess, and her racing mind summoned up things mundane and exotic, making spires of arousal dance through her veins.
“I’m not going to punish you at all, even if you disobey. But you’re not going to, because you want to be submissive to me. And everything I ask is going to bring you pleasure, even more than last night.”
“Yes, Sir.” She almost lost her balance with the surge of passion that came from his words.
“Go into the bedroom and strip. Lie face up, arms over your head, legs spread.”
“Yes, Sir.” She hurried in, arranged herself as he entered. “What are you going to do?”
He laughed. “Patience. First I’m going to just enjoy looking at you.” He settled down in a chair and his eyes roamed over her body, making her tingle just from his stare. “Fuck, you’re gorgeous.”
She wriggled on the bed. “Max, come touch me.”
“No. You want to be touched? Do it yourself while I watch. Show me how you masturbate when you’re alone.”
“Max.” She flushed.
“Do it, right now. I’ve been dreaming about this.”
“Oh, you want a front row seat?” she teased him, then made a fake moan while she ran a hand over her nipples. “Better come closer.”
“Fuck.” He stood up and approached the bed. “Reach down between your legs, Casey. Use your index finger.”
She reached down and spread her labia, and began stroking herself, over the top of her clit, then on the right side where she preferred to start.
“Keep going.” He got onto the bed and knelt between her legs, watching intently. Embarrassed, she closed her eyes, and was startled to hear him say, “Open your eyes. Look at me while you touch yourself.”
“I—I can’t.” She opened her eyes, but looked away. “It’s too hard.”
“Harder than getting spanked with the paddle?” But it wasn’t a threat, just a question.
“Yes.”
“Why? Keep touching yourself while you tell me.”
“Because it’s so personal.” She flushed, felt her face hot.
“That’s why I like doing it.” His voice was low, and he ran both hands up her inner thighs, stopping just shy of her wetness. “Don’t you think you’d feel so extremely submissive, looking at me while you carry out my commands?”
She nodded.
“Don’t stop touching. I want you to bring yourself off while you look into my eyes.”
“Max, I don’t know.” She wanted to, but still she hesitated. “It’s so intimate.”
“Work through it,” he said, letting one finger dip into her pussy, making her quiver and clench. “Tell me, yes, Sir, and look right at me.”
She forced her eyes upward. “Yes, Sir.”
“Not so hard, right?”
His eyes were mesmerizing, blue and gorgeous, and he had a wicked smile on his face, and suddenly she felt a surge of arousal and desire for him that overwhelmed any embarrassment or shyness. “Not so hard.”
“Tell me what you liked best about last night.” His voice was a caress.
She bit her lip, stroked her clit a little harder. “I liked it when you teased me and made me pick out things to spank me with. I liked it when you held me down and made me take it.” She moaned, feeling her delicate tissues expand and swell with arousal, feeling the moisture rise and flow, making her fingers slick with her own juices.
“Good girl, keep going, just like that,” he urged her. “What did you hate?”
“I didn’t hate anything,” she managed, her voice breathy, her eyelids flickering.
“Eyes open. Look at me,” he snapped, but it wasn’t mean, just firm. “You didn’t like the brush handle in your ass all that much, as I recall.” He gave her an evil grin.
For some reason, the memory of that brush and the completely illicit, depraved thing he’d done with it made more moisture surge, and she rubbed harder, arching herself up into her hand. “Oh. Mmm. Max, the brush was so fucked up.”
“I know. That’s why I liked it so much,” he said, letting one finger rub against her anus. “And I think you liked hating it and that you’d let me do it again, wouldn’t you?”
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