R.S.V.P.

by Madeleine Oh

  To her relief, Michael laughed. “You have a very strange sense of humor. That dress is no accident, is it?”

  “What, the cherries? Nope. More like truth in advertising.”

  He nipped her again, eliciting another groan. “You were embarrassed in the bedroom, thinking people would guess what you were doing. If I took you against this wall, they wouldn’t just guess, they’d know.”

  He pushed her wet panties aside with his thumb, and slid a finger along her slick folds. Sassy gasped, the sudden jolt of pleasure making her vision swim.

  “Sasha?” he prompted.

  “I don’t care!” The hell with her job. If Bryce didn’t want her story, she’d quit. It would be worth it to feel Michael coming inside her at last.

  Her inner muscles tensed and quivered, aching to claim his finger and pull it inside, even as she fought to keep her legs and hips steady. She remembered her earlier lesson. All her pleasure came from Michael, on his schedule, at his whim. She was not to try and rush him.

  Her hips shook with the effort not to rock forward and sheathe his finger inside her.

  “Why? Why don’t you care?”

  “Because I need you inside me. Not your fingers, or your tongue, but your hard, hot cock. Making me yours, completely.”

  His fingers stroked her wet folds, gliding over her hot, aching flesh. Sassy shuddered and moaned.

  Michael bent his head and rested his forehead against hers, releasing his breath in a ragged exhale. “I have got to learn to ask these questions before you’re lost to passion. But your body is like a drug to me. I can’t resist touching you.”

  His fingers probed deeper, finding her entrance. Capturing her mouth with his, he swallowed her soft moan of pleasure, then moved his free hand to the back of her neck to hold her lips pressed to his. He stretched her wide, thrusting three fingers all the way inside her, and flicked his thumb over and around her clit.

  Sassy came in a burst, her startled cry silenced by his greedy mouth. His kiss gentled. He slipped his hand away from her pulsing body, tugging her panties back into place, and lifted his head.

  No longer focused exclusively on her body’s needs, she became aware of the seductive throb of Latin music from the dance floor, and the hushed voices of the assembled guests. They were probably talking about her, getting a hand job out here for everyone to see, the way they’d dissected the scenes in the other room. Her cheeks flamed, and she wished she could jump over the wall and disappear. Unfortunately, given the height of the penthouse, that would be a permanent exit.

  “You made no sound,” Michael reassured her. “And no one on the dance floor could see what I was doing.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Yes.” He dropped a light kiss on her forehead, then stepped away, took a handkerchief out of his pocket, and wiped his fingers. “You’re not ready for that level of exhibitionism. But I can still show everyone that you’re mine.”

  Sassy’s heart beat faster, her breath turning shallow. All the benefits, with none of the cost. “How?”

  “I wanted to say hello to a few of the other dominants before leaving. When we go in, you’ll sit on the floor at my feet. Look at no one but me. Speak to no one but me, unless I give you permission.” He smiled. “And if you’re very good, I’ll take you home with me, and we can finish this party in private.”

  She trembled, eager to leave now. She wouldn’t be satisfied until she felt him coming inside her, and knew that she could stir him the way that he stirred her. But to do that, she’d have to be a perfect slave.

  She bent her head, and dropped a curtsey to him. “As you command, Master. Let me show you how good I can be.”

  Chuckling softly, Michael wrapped his arm around her and led her around the dance floor. They passed the blonde woman, also standing on the sidelines, although only one of her slaves was with her.

  “Michael! Where have you been hiding yourself all evening?”

  “Schooling my new slave,” he answered. Nudging Sassy forward, he murmured, “Show your respect to Mistress Melissa by bowing.”

  Sassy had no wish to bow to the other woman. She had her own slaves. Let them bow to her. But Michael had asked it of her, and she ached to please him. Remembering the way his cock had swollen and jumped every time she submitted to him, she did as he instructed, stepping forward and bowing, never lifting her eyes from the white marble of the patio. In her mind, she bowed to Michael. His hand tightened around her waist, warm and possessive.

  “Good for you, right back in the saddle,” Melissa purred.

  Sassy longed to see the other woman’s expression. Was this a sly sexual innuendo, or a comment about Michael’s disastrous previous relationship? She almost lifted her head to satisfy her curiosity. Then she recalled Michael’s lesson. All her satisfaction came from him. Was that just physical satisfaction or intellectual satisfaction as well? She’d ask him later, when they were alone. After he made love to her. For now, she’d assume it meant everything. She wasn’t willing to risk losing a night of incredible sex over a passing curiosity, so, quivering from the strain, she kept her gaze down.

  Oddly, the fact that she hadn’t wanted to give in, but had done it anyway, filled her with shivering pleasure. She’d strip naked and lay down on the floor at Michael’s feet if that’s what he wanted her to do. She almost wished he’d ask it of her, so that she could prove her willingness to submit to him.

  Michael laughed, pulling Sassy in front of him and pressing his rigid erection into the cleavage of her ass. “And I plan to be riding all night.”

  Her face flamed, even as her body quickened. She melted against him, happy to accept his absentminded caresses of her hips and thighs as he chatted with the other woman. She paid no attention to his words, since they weren’t directed at her. Instead, she enjoyed the way his voice rumbled through his chest, and how the heat of his hands seemed to soak right through her thin dress. The arrival of Mistress Melissa’s other slave, bearing a tray filled with drinks, ended the conversation.

  Michael took a moment to compose himself, then led her into the living room. After pausing on the threshold to scan the room, he headed for the smaller of the two conversation groupings. He sat in the center of the white leather loveseat, stretching his arms across the curved back. As he’d instructed her, Sassy smoothed out her skirt and sat on the plush white carpeting. She rested her head against his knee and waited.

  She heard a familiar voice, and opened her eyes to see a pair of black leather pants in front of her, flanked by two pairs of toned, tan legs. Master Carl and his submissives.

  “We met in line at the door,” Master Carl finished explaining. “She was quite taken with Kristin’s collar.”

  Michael tipped Sassy’s face up to look at him. “Would you like to wear a collar some day?”

  She shivered, imagining Michael’s strong hands fastening a collar like Kristin’s around her neck, telling the world that she belonged to him. She’d seen other collars at the party; some were thin velvet chokers, others embossed leather or gold chain that looked more like jewelry, and still others were heavy leather with studs, spikes, or rings that made them look like dog collars for a particularly nasty Doberman.

  “If it was pretty,” she answered.

  Michael chuckled. “Wearing a collar isn’t about what it looks like. It’s about how you feel when you’re wearing it.”

  “How would I feel?”

  He brushed the back of his fingers against her collarbone in a whispered caress. “Special.”

  She closed her eyes, leaning into his touch. “Yes.”

  “You’ve chosen well,” Master Carl said.

  Michael’s voice turned cold. “I don’t think you’re qualified to judge.”

  Carl coughed. “We’ve taken enough of your time. Enjoy your evening. Come, girls.”

  Sassy slitted open her eyes and watched them walk away. When they’d passed into the dining room, Michael shook himself and turned his attention to her, resu
ming his interrupted caress.

  “So you’d like a collar, hmm?”

  “What was that about, Michael?”

  He hesitated, then let out his breath on a sigh. “Remember that relationship I told you about, the one that turned bad? He’s the one who introduced us.”

  She didn’t know how to answer that. All she could think about was that Michael obviously hadn’t wanted to answer her question. But he had. Because BDSM relationships were based on trust, and he wouldn’t lie to her.

  An icy knife stabbed her stomach. She reassured herself that she hadn’t lied to him. But she hadn’t told him the truth. She hadn’t told him why she’d come to this party, or that she planned on exposing their relationship on the pages of South Beach Sun Daze.

  “Have I been good, Michael? Very, very good?”

  His fingers glided over her throat and along her jawline. “Very good.”

  “Then will you take me home with you?”

  He glanced around the room, surveying the guests. “There’s no one else here I want to talk to. I’d rather spend the rest of the night listening to you scream my name when you come.”

  She quivered with excitement, hot, aching need melting the last of her icy dread. Softly, she whispered, “Take me home, Michael. Make me scream for you.”

  His thumb stroked across her mouth, then he tugged gently on her lower lip. “Giving orders now? Do you need to be taught another lesson?”

  She could tell from his teasing tone that he wasn’t upset with her. He knew she was begging, regardless of how she’d phrased her pleas.

  Opening her mouth, she sucked his thumb inside. She caressed the firm pad and smooth nail with her tongue, stroking across the creases of his knuckle.

  He groaned softly. Lifting her hand, he placed it over his crotch, letting her feel the heat of his erection. As she pulled on his thumb, swirling her tongue over and around it, his cock stiffened, pressing against her palm.

  She whispered, “I live to serve you.” With his thumb still in her mouth, her “L” came out like a “W”, making her sound like Elmer Fudd. A very sexy Elmer Fudd.

  “Then you’d better let go of my thumb, because if you keep sucking like that, I’m going to open my fly and order you to take my cock in your mouth right here in the middle of the party.”

  His thumb slid out of her mouth with a wet pop. He pressed her palm against his erection, stroking himself with her hand, then groaned and lurched to his feet. Still holding her hand, he dragged her upright.

  “Let’s go. My apartment is five minutes away. I can wait another five minutes to feel your mouth around me.”

  “It’s Saturday night in South Beach,” she reminded him.

  He groaned again. With the cruisers out, it could take five minutes just to go five blocks. “Hell. It’s a private garage.”

  Chapter Four

  Michael’s Ford Expedition unlocked with a click of his key chain. The sound of slamming doors and people’s laughter echoed weirdly among the concrete pillars of the garage, coming from unseen hotel guests either arriving or leaving.

  He gazed longingly at the cargo area of his SUV, then shook his head. “Not private enough. Get in.”

  Sassy climbed into the passenger’s seat, sinking into the buttery-soft leather, and strapped herself in. He started the engine and pulled out of the narrow space, the tires squealing as he cut the wheel hard to the right.

  While he was occupied with maneuvering the big vehicle through spaces designed for much smaller cars, she studied the Expedition and what it said about the man beside her. She wouldn’t have guessed he’d be an SUV driver. He seemed the type to drive something sleek and sporty, with plenty of power under the hood. Probably a convertible.

  Turning in her seat, she glanced at the cargo area. The beige leather was scraped along the sides and marred with faint black streaks. The SUV wasn’t a fashion statement. He actually used it to transport things.

  They rolled under the rising security gate onto Collins Avenue. As she’d predicted, traffic moved at a crawl.

  Michael growled under his breath. “We’ll cut across to Euclid at the next intersection. Traffic should be lighter there.”

  “What do you do? For a job, I mean?”

  He darted a surprised glance at her. “Afraid I’m not qualified to navigate a traffic jam?”

  “No. I just wondered what you hauled in your SUV.”

  “Oh.” He inched forward, approaching the intersection, then cursed when the light changed before they reached it. “I’m a photographer. I haul my gear to photo shoots—camera bags, lights, power boxes, cables, that sort of thing.”

  “A photographer? Have I seen your work?”

  “Probably. I did the last Gold Door layout. That was on busses and billboards all over Miami. And my spring fashion spread photos were picked up by People, Us, Time…most of the majors printed at least one shot.”

  Sassy’s eyebrows rose. That was a far cry from souvenir snapshots and family portraits for Christmas cards. She’d just been saying the polite thing when she asked if she’d seen his work. She’d never expected the answer to be yes.

  “I should have known you’d be talented. You’ve been so skillful at everything else tonight.”

  He chuckled. “You’ve made it easy. Working with models is anything but.”

  The light changed, and he turned right, the street opening up in front of them. A quick left onto Euclid, then he was accelerating southward.

  “I live south of Biscayne Bay. We’ll be there soon, now.”

  Her pulse raced. “Soon I’ll feel that strong, hard cock of yours between my lips, swallowing you down as I kneel before you.”

  Michael’s fingers clenched the steering wheel in a white-knuckled grip, and the speedometer spiked upward. Cursing under his breath, he eased his foot off the gas.

  “Don’t talk like that,” he ordered. “Or we’ll never get there. I’ll pull over and have you do me right here in the Expedition.”

  Her lungs froze in her suddenly tight chest, but her panties grew damp. She was so hot for him. The idea that he was equally hot for her, that he had to fight to control his reaction to her, made her tremble with excitement. What would happen when they were finally alone, when no one could see or hear them?

  They slowed briefly to merge onto Washington Avenue. Then they broke free of the South Beach traffic, and he gunned the engine.

  “What about you?” he asked, his voice tight with strain. “What do you do?”

  She didn’t answer. How could she? BDSM relationships were supposed to be based on trust and truthfulness. She couldn’t lie to him. But if she told him she was a club reviewer, he’d guess why she’d been at the party.

  “Sasha?”

  Now he was getting suspicious. She had to distract him.

  She laughed, although it sounded false to her ears. “Nothing as interesting as you, I’m afraid. I’m a kind of secretary.”

  “A kind of secretary? What kind?”

  “No. I mean, I do a lot of what a secretary does—answer phones, type—but that’s not my job title.” She paused as a new thought struck her. “I don’t think I actually have a job title.”

  Michael chuckled. “Maybe you really are a secretary, then.”

  At least he wasn’t questioning how she could afford the Briar Rose fees on a secretary’s salary.

  “Do you model on the side?”

  Oh, damn. He was. How was she supposed to answer without lying, but without raising his suspicions?

  Sassy fluttered her eyelashes at him. “Why? Do you want to photograph me?”

  “God, yes. If I could capture that look in your eyes, that you had in the bedroom—that cross between fear, excitement, and total and complete trust and compliance—that picture would keep me hard for the rest of my life.”

  “Really?” she whispered. An entirely different kind of warmth was curling through her now, a glow that radiated outward from her heart. It had nothing to do with sex, an
d everything to do with feeling cherished and adored.

  “I told you, absolute truth between us.”

  The warmth vanished, leaving her feeling vaguely queasy. When he found out the truth about her, he’d be furious. That would be it for their relationship. Still, she’d make the most out of it while she could. If they were doomed to split up, that just meant she’d have to milk their encounters for the maximum pleasure and excitement. Michael could have no complaint with that.

  Starting now. “Are we almost there yet?”

  “Almost.”

  He turned down a side street leading to a towering oceanfront condominium complex. Half a minute later, he was pulling the Explorer into his designated parking space in the garage. A minute after that, he was leading her through his door.

  She barely had time to notice the tiled foyer decorated with photographs, presumably his, before he pushed her through a beaded curtain into a spotless blue and white kitchen, then through the formal dining area into the living room beyond. The thick sand-colored carpet, blue and green chairs, and coffee table of driftwood and glass, made the room seem like it was part of an undersea palace. Even the artwork on the walls was different, sculptures from shells and driftwood instead of photographs.

  Michael released her hand long enough to open two sets of French doors onto the wraparound balcony, letting in the humid night air and the restless sound of the surf crashing on the beach below.

  “Come here.”

  She walked slowly to his side. Now that the moment had come, she was inexplicably nervous. What if it wasn’t as good as she’d imagined? What if it was even better?

  “On your knees.”

  Sassy knelt before him, the thick carpet cushioning her knees. His suit pants bulged outward, and this close to his cock, she could smell the musky scent of sex and sweat on him.

  He ran his fingers through her hair, caressing her with trembling hands.

  “Undo my pants.”

  She reached for his belt buckle, and discovered her hands were shaking, too. She’d given head before, but never like this. Never because she’d been ordered to pleasure her master. More than anything, she didn’t want to disappoint him.