“Do you need to come?” Vivien asked.
“Yes Ma’am.” Oh God, her Mistress was about to come too.
“Touch yourself,” Vivien rasped. “Do it now. Come, Polly.”
Polly rubbed her slick clit furiously. Almost as soon as her fingers came in contact with her flesh ecstasy crashed over her. The dildo seemed to swell as her ass clamped down around it. Her loud moans echoed off the walls as she milked her body for every last ounce of pleasure.
Vivien’s fingers trembled and dug into her hips. Rough breaths fanned her back, and the knowledge her Mistress was coming with her carried the intensity of Polly’s orgasm higher and higher.
* * * * *
They met twice, sometimes three times a week, though Vivien had never again allowed the intimate conversation Polly had enjoyed during her second visit. Vivien somehow intuited her unspoken needs, delivering spankings with perfect precision, clamping Polly’s nipples to the point where pain tinged pleasure, plugging her ass so that Polly felt empty and naked when she was wasn’t wearing something in her butt.
She obeyed without question, becoming the ideal sub both in and out of the studio. In return Vivien lavished praise on her. She stroked Polly’s hair and cheeks and soothed her paddle-stung bottom.
Though Polly looked forward to Mallory’s plans for the Honkytonk Angels she didn’t want to imagine the day when Vivien would deem her trained and release her.
Chapter Six
Polly skipped up the three steps and pulled open the door to the restaurant banquet room. Mallory had invited her to a get-together. She’d guessed everyone here would be involved in the music industry, but quickly realized this wasn’t what she’d imagined.
She looked down in dismay at her bright floral-print frock she’d paired with hot-pink pumps. She stood out in the crowd of male and female professionals who all looked as if they’d just stepped out of their corner offices.
Smiling, Mallory swept toward her, glass of Chardonnay in hand. “Oh, darling!” she called in her polished British accent. “You made it. Love the retro vibe.”
She gave her an obligatory hug and quick peck on the cheek.
“I would have dressed a little differently had I known—” Polly began over the strains of the Patsy Cline song pumped in over the stereo system.
“Nonsense. You look lovely. Besides, there are a couple of movers and shakers in the industry to whom I’d like to introduce you. Believe me, darling, you’ll be remembered.”
Polly didn’t know if that was necessarily a good thing, but she moved into the crowd on Mallory’s arm, nodding and smiling and trying to commit all the new names and faces to memory as she was presented.
“How’s it working out with Vivien?” Mallory asked as they moved from one gathering to the next.
Heat flared in Polly’s neck at the mention of her Mistress. “V-very well.”
Patsy’s plaintive voice filled the room as Polly recognized one of her favorite songs of unrequited love. Fall to Pieces.
“Excellent. I thought it’d be a good pairing. Vivien so needed the distraction after that messy breakup.” Mallory arched an eyebrow and then turned her head, drawing Polly’s attention across the room to where Vivien stood chatting with a woman Polly recognized from the media.
I fall to pieces…
Her lips parted in realization. Vivien and Claire Barnes? This was the client Vivien had dated? Polly cut her gaze at Mallory in unspoken question.
Claire Barnes was famously—married. And straight?
Mallory merely arched an eyebrow. Seconds later someone called her name and Mallory excused herself before she whisked off across the room.
Polly found a spot where she could observe unnoticed. Sliding onto a barstool, she watched Vivien’s exchange through the fronds of a fake potted tree.
Other than their initial meeting Polly had never observed her Mistress outside the studio. It seemed strange to watch her moving about, interacting with normal people in the regular world. With her raven hair softly finger-waved, and wearing her trademark ruby-slipper-red lipstick, Vivien looked as if she’d been plucked out of time and dropped into the twenty-first century. Beautiful and flawless, she looked too glamorous for the other people in the room, too fine.
Her black dress had to be vintage, not to mention designer. Doubtless Chanel. The cut had been tailored perfectly to fit her hourglass figure. Her fingers tightened around her clutch as she spoke to the politician. Her thumb worried the clasp.
Claire stood close enough to indicate a history but her posture was completely guarded. Arms crossed, she leaned slightly back, her sharp features hard and set as if she were determined to keep Vivien at a distance.
Now that she knew, Polly wondered how she’d ever not known Claire Barnes was a lesbian. It was obvious. Her coltish figure. Her angular cheekbones and jawline. Those squared shoulders even her pale designer suit couldn’t disguise.
A spark of jealousy flared in Polly’s chest, surprising her in its intensity. Where was that coming from? She had no right to be jealous of a woman with whom she wasn’t romantically involved. But still, images filled her head of Claire Barnes naked and bound, moaning under Vivien’s expertly wielded lash.
Polly blinked to chase away the vision but when she opened her eyes again, there they stood. Even from here Vivien blinked as if she were near tears. Claire shook her head and took a step backward and then another woman approached and possessively touched Claire’s arm. The simple contact wouldn’t have been noticed by anyone else, but Polly saw the way the politician shifted toward her…lover.
A few words were exchanged and then Vivien swept past them toward the restrooms.
I fall to pieces…
Polly’s first reaction was to follow but she stopped herself. It wasn’t her place to comfort Vivien. But all she wanted to do was crush Vivien in an embrace and kiss away her sadness. The need consumed Polly so hard she began to shake.
Fuck it.
She followed after Vivien.
Polly thought she would be prepared to find her Mistress shaken but composed. But when she pushed open the door to the restroom she discovered Vivien sagged against the wall, her face upturned and tears streaming in rivulets down her perfectly powdered face.
Polly’s heart melted and without words she rushed across the space and drew Vivien into her arms.
Vivien resisted but only for a split second before she wilted into the comforting embrace. A sob racked her shoulders. “I’ve shed enough tears for her.” She pulled away and swiped at the dampness with the backs of her hands.
Polly’s own eyes stung to see her Mistress in such obvious pain. She knew better than to ask questions, even to comment.
Vivien sniffed and then let out a self-deprecating groan. “I thought I was over her.”
Polly reached for a tissue but instead of handing it to her she dabbed Vivien’s cheeks with it. “I’ve got some powder in my purse…”
Her words trailed off when the look in Vivien’s eyes instantaneously shifted from sad to penetrating. Her pupils dilated, the black almost obliterating the mossy green. Her vulnerability seeped away and was replaced with a predatory sensuality that made Polly’s stomach somersault.
Her gaze dropped to Vivien’s lips.
Vivien was going to kiss her and though Polly knew she should do everything to prevent it—knew they’d both regret it—she allowed the kiss to happen.
Vivien’s wealth of black lashes fluttered downward as she tilted her head and leaned in, closing the scant distance between them. At that moment Vivien ceased to be a Mistress, a dominatrix. Control evaporated, transforming her into a soft, vulnerable woman.
Polly trembled as her hands skimmed the rough fabric of Vivien’s dress, molding to the soft curves of a narrow waist and the blossom of feminine hips. She smelled like expensive perfume and the hint of a vodka martini, like powder and luxurious hair products. Though they’d shared the most intimate of moments, they’d never experienced o
ne as fragile, as perilous—as sweet—as this.
They’d never kissed.
Until now.
Vivien’s lips were as soft as Polly had imagined. Brushing, testing. A soft, wet tongue ventured out to taste, to part and then suddenly to invade.
Vivien hauled Polly against her, crushing her, claiming her mouth with penetrating hunger. Polly whimpered, opening for the plundering tongue. An invisible ribbon of desire fused between her mouth, her nipples, her pussy. She dragged Vivien’s hips to hers and rocked against them, mons to mons. Fingers speared into the fine hairs at Polly’s nape, a palm holding her head captive and those baby-soft lips continued working their magic.
Drunk on need, Polly moaned. Vivien was kissing her. It was really happening. Her heat grew wings and soared. Vivien wanted her. And in this magical moment nothing else mattered except getting this woman naked and into a bed.
Voices sounded just outside the door and Vivien pulled away so abruptly that Polly stumbled. Confused, she blinked, trying to bring herself back to the present.
Vivien stood at the mirror, reaching into her clutch for a compact. Already she had every hair back in place, her lipstick reapplied to utter perfection.
Two women entered the lounge area and passed through to the restrooms. Dazed, Polly watched as Vivien dabbed a powder puff over her nose, chin and forehead and then returned it to the compact and then to her clutch. She straightened and inhaled before her gaze sought Polly’s. “I apologize.”
“No. No… I wanted—”
Vivien started toward the door without looking back. “My behavior was unprofessional. Again, I apologize.” She hesitated for a moment and then left.
Polly cast a hateful glance toward the restrooms. If those two gals hadn’t come in…
Damn it!
She clenched her fists. Vivien’s taste still lingered on her lips. She could still smell that exquisite perfume. She’d known better. Nothing could have come of it. Whatever chemistry they shared in the studio, in real life they moved in different worlds.
Vivien was a professional. She was her Mistress. Not her lover. Polly would do well to remind herself of it.
She blinked against tears that surprised her. She’d confused her physical needs with something else…something she’d never before known. That was all.
In the other room a toilet flushed. Realizing she had to get out of here before the women came back in she rushed to the sink and rinsed her hands, dried them and then scurried out of the lounge.
Mallory almost ran into her. “Darling!” she exclaimed. “Good news.”
Polly lifted an eyebrow in question, but her gaze drifted over Mallory’s shoulder. Vivien was nowhere to be seen.
Seemingly oblivious, Mallory continued. “Vivien released you. She says you’ve completed the training and are approved. Bravo, darling!”
Polly’s lips parted as the full implication sank straight to her toes. She shook her head. “No—I’m not ready. I… Where’s Vivien? Did she leave?”
“Yes.” Mallory gestured toward the door. Her hand drifted back to her side and her eyes narrowed knowingly. The hint of a smile played on one corner of her mouth. “A little something going on between you two? More than just a professional relationship?”
Polly pursed her lips to stop them from trembling. “No.” She swallowed thickly. “No, nothing like that. I just… I just didn’t think I was ready.”
Mallory reached out and thumbed the corner of Polly’s mouth. “A little red there, clashing with your pink.” She smiled perceptively. “You know, love? You may not have realized it, but one of the things you should’ve learned from your time with Vivien is that it’s okay to ask for what you want.”
* * * * *
Vivien somehow kept the tears from falling until she was safely back in her loft. Once she closed her front door her poise dissolved. She sagged down to the floor and plopped onto her bottom before giving into gut-wrenching sobs.
This day couldn’t possibly get any worse.
Seeing Claire had been bad enough. At first there’d been that same thrill, those familiar butterflies. The chemistry…
Time and again Vivien had considered how she’d handle the inevitable meeting. She’d even contemplated whether she’d be willing to make the concession Claire had demanded. A clandestine relationship. No strings. No commitment. No one could ever know.
Those requirements had compelled Vivien to hold out, to refuse to settle. But now…
No. She didn’t want that. She couldn’t accept it. What she wanted was a woman who would be her partner, her lover. Someone who’d be by her side, on her arm.
Someone like…Polly.
Vivien tilted her head back and stared up at the tin ceiling. She’d kissed Polly. Kissed her!
Dear God…
At the time it had seemed the right thing to do. Polly had been so willing to comfort her. She’d been there for her. Unlike Claire, who seemed only to be concerned with her career and that damned beard of a husband.
Thoughts of Claire drifted to the background.
Polly. Sweet, pretty, blonde, innocent Polly.
Vivien should never have allowed herself that moment of weakness. Especially with a client.
Her eyes closed and the memory of that kiss washed back over her. The concern in Polly’s chocolate gaze had made her feel…safe. Wanted. Cherished. All those things wrapped up in a pair of the most luscious pink lips Vivien had ever tasted.
For the first time since her breakup with Claire Vivien found herself wanting to get to know someone, wanting to experience firsts. What would Polly be like outside the studio?
What did she like to eat? What music did she enjoy? She wanted to know everything and more.
Vivien hadn’t realized how much she ached to have someone in her life.
She slipped off her heels and stood. The tears had given her a sort of a renewal that was past due. She padded into the bathroom and washed her face, stripping away the lipstick, powder, the lashes and thick, retro liner. Afterward she looked at her reflection. Bared. Vulnerable.
Was she lovable this way?
Could she possibly share something special with Polly?
Her phone chimed. She reached for it, her heart skipping a beat when she saw the text was from Polly.
I’ve been bad, Ma’am. I masturbated, thinking about the kiss we shared. I need to be punished.
Warmth rushed into Vivien’s cheeks. She resisted the smile that played havoc with her lips.
And then she began to type a response.
* * * * *
Heart hammering, Polly kneeled, fingers interlaced behind her back. Uncharacteristically Vivien had told her to arrive at nine that night instead of in the morning—the very night Polly had sent her the provocative text.
She’d been waiting for nearly ten minutes. Her shoulders ached. Her thighs burned. Anticipation gnawed at her, awakening every nerve ending. Pain was the only thing keeping her rooted in the moment, in her body.
What was this need to be in Vivien’s presence? This infatuation was dangerous because Polly knew it could so easily result in heartache. Vivien had laid out her rules in the beginning. Rules that had been specific.
I am your Mistress. Not your girlfriend. Not your confidante. And not your lover. This is non-negotiable.
And yet today, when Vivien had kissed her, there’d been an unmistakable passion, volatile hunger even the icy dominatrix could not conceal. If her rules were as non-negotiable as she stated she wouldn’t have texted back.
Polly straightened her spine, spread her thighs farther apart and lifted her chin. Come and punish me, you gorgeous, sexy bitch.
The door opened, revealing nothing but the red-black darkness of the room. Polly’s breathing hitched. For a split second her confidence wavered when she didn’t immediately see Vivien, but she refused to let it show.
“Come in,” Vivien’s voice beckoned from the shadows.
Polly swallowed. Hard. And then she cra
wled on hands and knees into the room. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the low lighting.
“Close the door behind you.”
Polly nudged the door with her foot and it swung closed.
“Come here.”
The voice came from the direction of the sofa. Obediently she crawled toward the sound. She suddenly wondered if she’d been stupid for provoking her Mistress with that text. It was a risk she’d been willing to take.
As she neared the sofa Vivien formed out of the crimson shadows. Her black hair had been slicked back into a tight bun at the nape of her neck. She’d toned down her signature glamour-girl makeup and instead looked natural. But instead of looking softer, the raw, pure side of Vivien gave her more of a definitive edge.
Unsmiling and unblinking, she looked like an old Hollywood art portrait with the dim, red lighting illuminating her silhouette from behind and the distinctive lines of her face delineated by the deep shadows.
Her hand moved downward, drawing Polly’s gaze to the thick strap-on dildo, which jutted from the open fly of her black trousers.
“Tell me what you fantasized about while you masturbated,” Vivien purred.
Polly cleared her throat. Courage swelled in her breast. It was now or never. She drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly. “I couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss we shared.”
Vivien’s eyes darkened seductively.
Polly continued. “I wanted to comfort you, hold you. Be there for you. I wanted to show you that you didn’t need that other woman, that you could have me.”
Vivien’s hand stopped moving over the silicone cock. “Did I not explain the rules to you at the beginning of our association?”
Polly was prepared. “Yes. Explicitly. And you also said that our relationship would be revaluated when you’d released me—which you did earlier today.”
One corner of Vivien’s lips twitched as she obviously resisted a smile. “Touché.”
Polly’s mouth went dry as she lowered her arms and stood. Vivien looked surprised, but she didn’t comment as Polly stalked toward her and then straddled her lap.
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