Under His Command (Six-Alarm Sexy)

by Kristine Cayne

  What had he said earlier? Count sheep? It was certainly worth a try. Closing her eyes, she pictured fluffy little lambs jumping over a fence. One sheep. Two sheep.

  Jamie tugged on her hair again. “Open your eyes.”

  Not fair. Keeping her head down, she resisted. How could she count sheep if she couldn’t see them? When he tugged harder, she snapped her eyes open. His clenched jaw jumped and she had the sudden urge to run her tongue along the edge of it. The pulsing between her legs flared and she tore her gaze away from him.

  “Lift up your dress.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Here?”

  “Yes. Now.”

  Happy that she’d worn her favorite no-wrinkle dress, she raised the hem, folding it neatly at her waist. When the hem passed her mound, exposing her, he said, “That’s it. Show me your pretty pussy.”

  Pussy. The word ripped through her memories, bringing that first night back to her in high-definition. Every sound, every scent, every touch. It all came back in a rush. Simply remembering the way he’d spread her legs and studied her most private place triggered a fresh wave of desire.

  He pushed on the back of her head. “See how wet you are? How your juices gleam in the sun? Describe it to me.”

  God, that was gross. Why did he want her to do that? Keeping her head down, she glanced at him out of the corner of her eye. Oh, right. He was still driving. She swallowed, stalling. “You lied.”

  Frowning, he shot her a questioning look. “I’ve been more honest with you in the last day than ever before in our marriage.”

  “You said you’d never make me do anything embarrassing.”

  “No. I said I’d never embarrass you or make you do anything embarrassing in public. But that’s beside the point. Describing yourself shouldn’t be any more embarrassing than describing a picture or a painting. Now do it.”

  Her husband had lost his mind. Letting out a long breath, she tilted her hips so she could have a better view of the area in question. “Um… well… it’s pink and shiny.”

  “Sounds like you’re describing a newborn pig. Pretend I’ve never seen a pussy before. Tell me everything you see.”

  She snorted. “It’s not at all nice to look at. I may just turn you off women forever.”

  Reaching between her legs, he fondled her with his fingers, dipping one inside her. Stunned, she barely had time to register what he’d done before it was over. He brought his hand to his mouth, and sucked his fingers. His action, so carnal, so hot, stole her breath.

  “Your pussy is beautiful and so are you. Every inch of you makes me crazy. Now try again, and see yourself through my eyes.”

  Did he really believe that? Only truth showed on his face. After years of hearing her mother’s boyfriends calling both of them filthy cunts, it was hard for her to block that out, to think of that part of herself as anything but dirty. Growing up, she’d often wished she’d had a penis, long and wide. Men were proud of their bodies in a way few women were of theirs. For Jamie, for the sake of their marriage, she’d try.

  Placing a hand on her stomach, she edged her fingers lower until they touched the trimmed hair at the apex of her thighs. She was a little obsessive about keeping it neat. “Okay. The hair… it’s short and a little curly.”

  After a moment, he prompted her. “Color?”

  “Blonde. So pale, I can see my skin through it.”

  “What color is your skin?”

  Carefully, she pushed aside the row of beads. Good thing the hair was short or Jamie’s little surprise could have been a painful one. “It’s light pink here.”

  “And lower?”

  She trailed her finger down to her outer folds, still swollen from her earlier passion. Touching herself like this in front of Jamie felt… wrong. She took another breath before answering his question. “It’s darker. Closer to fuchsia.”

  “Open yourself.”

  Was he trying to prove something with all this? Come on, Erica. Be honest. Yes. There was something exciting and sexy about exposing herself in broad daylight. Did Jamie know that? She guessed that he did.

  Forcing herself to follow his orders, she used both hands to push back the swollen lips and reveal the smaller folds. Folds that glistened with moisture. Jamie sucked in a breath, drawing her attention to his hands gripping the steering wheel, his knuckles white against the black leather. “Tell me what you see.”

  This little game was affecting him as much as her. Stimulated by the visual proof of his arousal, desire spun tight in her belly. She returned her gaze to her mound and the new moisture that coated it. “I see a flower. A flower touched by the morning dew.”

  The car swerved sharply off the road, and Jamie pulled it to a stop on the shoulder. She smothered her smile, but a curious warming sensation filled her chest. He unbuckled his seatbelt and twisted toward her, his body boxing her in. “Repeat what you said.”

  “All of it?”

  “Just the last part,” he said with an impatient shake of his head.

  “It… uh… it looks like a flower touched by the morning dew.”

  “Good. You see what I see now.”

  She bit her lip and nodded, her heart swelling. He’d done this for her. “Thank you,” she whispered, ducking her head.

  He hooked a finger under her chin. “Never be ashamed of your body or how you feel.” He pressed his lips against hers. “Accept it, and it will reward you.”

  For a moment, much too short, she lost herself in blue eyes that shone with sincerity and something else. Was it love? Whatever it was, she was grateful to him for what he’d done. What he was doing. Already she felt their connection growing stronger. “I will,” she said, and meant it.

  “Now, let’s make it look like a flower after the rain.” He pulled on the G-string, rolling the beads back and forth. Her belly clenched hungrily as the smooth balls slipped between her wet folds, the pressure on her nub perfect. Then as though he’d completed his demonstration, he indicated for her to take over.

  Replacing his hand with hers, she continued the motion. As her desire mounted, she increased the rhythm—faster, harder. Her ragged breathing turning to gasps, she thrust her hips forward in an attempt to increase the pressure against the beads. Blood pounded in her ears. She was so close. Just a few more—

  He stilled her hand. “Stop.”

  “But I need—”

  “I know what you need.” With slow controlled movements, so at odds with the tempest wreaking havoc on her own body, he put the car in gear and got back on the highway. Her mind reeled and all she could focus on was reaching her climax. All it would take were a few touches. His eyes were on the street. He wouldn’t see if she extended her finger a little…

  The rumble in his chest squashed that idea. He smiled. “Patience, Mrs. Caldwell.”

  Dropping her head against the seatback, she huffed out a breath. Patience had never been one of her virtues.

  After a few minutes of silence, he said, “Slip the straps off your shoulders.”

  “But my dress will fall down.” She was wearing a simple sheath dress. The entire thing was held up by narrow spaghetti straps.

  He gestured with his hand. “We’re alone.”

  The resort had been milling with people, but Jamie had managed to find the only deserted stretch of road on the island of Oahu. Go figure. “Okay. But if someone sees me, you’re in big trouble, mister.”

  Her fingers shaking, she slid the straps off and let the top of her sundress fall to her waist. Naked except for the fabric across her stomach, she shivered in the warm sun.

  “Are you cold?” he asked, concern furrowing his brow. “I can put the roof up.”

  “No.” Could she tell him the real reason she’d shivered? That being alone with him, naked when he was fully dressed, made her feel sexier, more vulnerable, than anything else in her life had. That it left her more aroused than she’d ever been?

  He groaned and she followed the direction of his eyes to her pussy, her juices
making it glisten. “Touch your breasts,” he growled, tearing his gaze away and back to the road.

  Bringing her hands to her chest, she cupped each breast, kneading them the way Jamie did.

  “That’s it. Now pinch your nipples.”

  With her thumbs and index fingers, she captured each peak and squeezed. A moan escaped her lips as a spark of pain ignited the sensitive tips.

  “Do it again. Pull at the same time,” he ordered.

  The tingles were so intense, so exhilarating that she hurried to comply. Pinching again, she tugged on her nipples, stretching her breasts, enjoying the pull on her skin.

  “Tell me how it feels.”

  “Like I’m being suspended by the tips of my breasts.”

  “We might have to try that someday.”

  “Not on your life,” she said, tensing up.

  “Hard limit. Got it.”

  Hearing the humor in his voice, she relaxed and continued to massage her breasts, her gaze fixed on his face. Wishing his hands would replace hers.

  “Pinch. Harder than before. And pull farther. Do both until you’re on the edge of pain.”

  She breathed deeply. There was no reason to worry. She was in control. These were her hands on her breasts. If it hurt too much, she’d stop. Squeezing her thumbs and index fingers together until pain enveloped the elongated peaks, she pulled. Pulled until the stretching of her skin and breast tissue made her yelp.

  “Easy now. Let up a little. Then do it again.”

  Was he crazy? As she prepared to follow his command, she knew she was the one who was crazy. After several rounds of the squeeze-pull routine, she began to pinch harder, pull farther, trying to reach the same flashpoint of pleasure and pain she’d hit the first time.

  “That’s it babe. Roll your hips.”

  With each thrust, the beads stroked her, all of her. She arched her back to increase the pull on her breasts and the pressure against her pussy. Her toes were at the edge of a magnificent precipice and she was ready to jump off. If he stopped her now, she’d die.

  “Good. Now—”

  “Jamie. Please.”

  “Please, what, Mrs. Caldwell? Remember, you need to be specific.”

  She lifted her eyes to him. Was that a smirk of satisfaction on his lips? He looked like a hunter who’d just captured his prey. “I want to… finish.”

  “Finish, Mrs. Caldwell?”

  “I’m glad you’re having so much fun with this,” she grumbled. “I want to come.”

  “Badly enough to beg?”

  “Yes, dammit.”

  He motioned vaguely with his hand. “Do your best.”

  Rethinking their exchange, she wasn’t certain what he meant. At this point, she didn’t much care if he wanted her to come or not. She was so close. A few Kegel exercises might just do the trick. On the other hand, she didn’t want to ruin the moment. She was starting to see the real Jamie, and the last thing she wanted was to disappoint him. “Do my best to come?”

  “No. To beg.”

  She’d never been good at begging, and now on the verge of climax, her mind careened into a void. What did he want her to say? Her vocabulary seemed to have vacated her mind. “Please, Jamie. I want to come.” There, that was good. Sounded submissive, didn’t it?

  “Sir.”

  “What?” If Jamie changed the rules on her, she’d turn to ashes. The burning in her belly intensified and she moaned.

  “Please, Sir,” he said.

  Erica wet her lips and reminded herself this was a game. Pulling on the submissive mantle, she lowered her voice and her eyes. “Please, Sir, allow me to come.”

  In a flash, he pressed his hand against the beads between her legs. “Again,” he said, his voice husky and far from unaffected.

  Her submissive mantle had worked. And his hand between her legs was working as well. “Please. Oh God. Sir, please. Let me come.” Her hips pistoned against his hand. Her fingers pinched and tugged on her nipples. Her actions were almost violent, like a sex-deprived woman. Or was that like a depraved woman? How could she be so desperate for satisfaction when she’d achieved it twice in the last half hour?

  He pressed harder with his palm and pushed a finger into her, stroking the bundle of nerves far inside her. She ground against his hand, swiveling her hips until the beads bit into her flesh. Pleasure spiraled and bright colors flashed on the perimeter of her vision. Death would ensue if he tried to stop her now. “Sir, Jamie. Please. Oh! Please, tell me to come. I beg you.”

  “Well done, Mrs. Caldwell.” He flattened his thumb against her clitoris. “Come. Now.”

  Without even a conscious thought on her part, sensation exploded low in her belly. Her eyes closed as her body convulsed, tightening around Jamie’s finger. She clamped her legs shut, trapping his hand, willing the waves of ecstasy to go on forever.

  Awareness filtered slowly back. She released her aching breasts and parting her knees, slouched against the seat. Sated.

  Jamie slid his finger out and she felt empty again. Like she’d felt for the past year. Melancholy replaced the satisfaction. As though sensing her change in mood, he patted her leg. “Hey, this is just the beginning.”

  She really hoped so. Jamie and Chloe were her world, her reason to live. Without her family, nothing meant anything. She understood that now.

  “Fix your dress. We’re almost there.”

  Almost there? Just ahead was a small town. With people! Fumbling with the straps, she pulled up the bodice and covered her breasts, then she pushed the skirt down. When they arrived at a quaint main street with shops lining either side of the road, she was fully covered. Thank goodness.

  Jamie turned into a narrow alley that led to a private parking lot. Checking her watch, she realized how much time had passed. It was already two o’clock, which explained why there were only a few cars in the lot.

  “Hope you’re ready to eat,” Jamie said, his tone lighter and happier than she’d ever heard it.

  Her stomach growled at the scent of cooking in the air. Coming three times in thirty minutes, had given her quite an appetite. “Famished.” She ran her tongue over her lips, letting him know she was hungry for much more than food.

  Jamie shifted in his seat and surreptitiously adjusted his pants in an attempt to stave off imminent castration.

  Rickie moaned as her lips closed around another forkful of butter mochi. He gritted his teeth to hold back a groan as his cock hammered against his zipper. Seeing the tines of the fork disappear between her lips was killing him. Maybe it was the fact he hadn’t had a blowjob in over a year. He couldn’t help remembering how it had looked, how it had felt to have her swallow him like that.

  Christ. Sweat broke out on his forehead.

  One sheep. Two sheep. Jump, fucker! Three sheep.

  Her low laugh reached him through the haze of lust. His eyes lasered in on her face. “What’s so funny?” he snapped.

  “You. You look like you’re going to blow an artery.”

  Something was going to blow all right. Or rather someone. “Are you done?”

  Setting her fork down neatly across her plate, she took a last sip of her tea and nodded. “Whenever you are.”

  His heart crashing against his ribs, he stood in a rush, barely catching his chair when it almost toppled over. After tossing enough cash onto the table to cover the bill and tip, he stepped around to help Rickie out of her seat. Get a grip, Caldwell. He was acting like a fucking moron.

  Rickie’s lips quivered as she got to her feet, smoothing down her dress. When her hands brushed her ass, desire shot through him—from his head to his other head. Clasping her wrist, he dragged her out of the restaurant, through the parking lot straight to their car. But instead of opening the passenger door, he backed her against it, caging her between the car and his body. Something flickered in her eyes. Fear? His pulse skyrocketed. “Had fun?” he asked, keeping his voice low and even.

  “Yes. The food was great.”

  “
Did you enjoy teasing me?” he ground out. He watched her throat work as she swallowed. His body swayed toward her, and his mouth opened. He caught himself a moment before his lips met her creamy skin. He was dying to scrape his teeth along the sensitive tendons of her neck. The move had always driven her to her knees. The image of her red lips closing around his throbbing cock flashed in his mind again. Christ Almighty. “Answer the question, Mrs. Caldwell.”

  Staring at his shoulder, she whispered, “Yes.”

  He shifted and brought his face to the other side of her neck, inhaling deeply, the scent of her perfume making his eyes roll back in his head. He took her hand and brought it to his groin. “Did you enjoy doing this to me?”

  She angled her head, giving him full access to the tender flesh at her throat. “Yes.”

  The word vibrated against his lips and straight to his cock. Fuck. He was the Dom. She would not win. She would not control him. He lifted his head away from her to study her expression. “You’ve been a naughty girl. Do you know what happens to naughty girls, Mrs. Caldwell?”

  She met his gaze. Interest gleamed in her eyes. “They’re punished?”

  “Playing with fire might get you burned.”

  Her hand tightened on his cock. “I’m counting on it,” she said, desire making her voice hoarse.

  He didn’t want to, but his body leaned into her touch. Glancing around the parking lot, he made sure they were alone and unseen. Witnesses would ruin the mood, at least for him. He’d never asked Rickie about her preferences when it came to exhibitionism, and he never would. She was his and his alone.

  With his hands on her hips, he spun her around and pressed her up against the car. Before she could utter more than a shocked “Oh!” he pulled up the hem of her dress and bared one creamy cheek.

  She struggled against him, tried to turn around. “Stop,” he said, his voice sharp. When she froze, he knew he had her. “That’s better.”

  Now that she was still, he could admire the sweet curve of her ass, the color of her skin. He itched to have it under his hand. Reining himself in, he caressed her hip and ran his fingers along the beads bisecting her butt. “How do these feel here?”