by RG Alexander
He plucked and twisted and she squeezed her thighs together, feeling her body respond. She loved it. Even more because it was Stephen.
“Are you sure it doesn’t hurt? You’re trembling.”
Tasha focused on forming words. “Because I can feel it everywhere. The firmer and sharper, the more I like it. This hurt is the good kind.”
“What does that mean?”
She took another breath. “You touch me, and I feel pleasure. The pinch—ah, yes, like that—zaps through me and mixes with what I’m already feeling. Enhancing it. Intensifying everything. That’s a small example of what BDSM is like. You’re giving me pain and pleasure and, depending on what you do next, I’ll have more of one or the other. You decide, and knowing that excites me.”
“Which do you want more?”
Sweet Jesus. “Follow your instincts. You’re a natural.”
That wasn’t good enough for him. “If I was one of your talented tops, what would I do next?”
She snared his gaze, loving the heat there. “Whatever you want, Stephen. If you’re dominating me, you control what I do with my body and to yours. You decide how rough or gentle. You decide if I’m allowed to come. If I’ve submitted to you, I’ll give it all willingly, follow where you lead and love every minute of it. Unless you go too far and I use our safe word.”
“We have a safe word?” He twisted her sensitive nipples again and she whimpered.
“Puñeta,” she chose randomly with a ragged laugh.
“I know what that means.”
“I’m sure you do. It’s what we’ll both be saying and what you’ll have to do for relief if I tell you to stop.”
“Are you going to tell me to stop, Natasha?”
“No.”
His deep voice lowered sensually. “And you’ll do whatever I say?”
“Yes, Stephen.” Anything.
His legs pressed against her knees. “Then unzip my pants. Now my circulation is being cut off and I don’t want to stop touching you.”
Her laugh was more of a whimper as her hands lifted to obey. She skimmed her fingers lightly over his thick erection and he hissed out a breath.
“Natasha,” he warned.
She unzipped the khakis and spread them open, looking up at him for permission instead of taking him in her hand. He stared down at her and something—interest?—sparked in his eyes. He understood what she was signaling. Submission.
Tasha wanted to touch him. Wanted to take him in her mouth the way she had so many times before. Passionately. Thoughtlessly. But he needed to understand the difference. Needed a taste of what to expect from a D/s relationship. And she couldn’t deny her desire to see his reaction to this kind of intimacy.
His eyes narrowed. “Lie back and put your arms over your head.”
With one last yearning look at his erection, Tasha forced herself to obey. She crossed her wrists over her head, arching her back subtly and shifting her legs, offering herself to him.
He stepped away and fabric rustled somewhere out of her sight. Was he taking off his clothes? She wanted to sit up and watch him, to help him and get him to hurry, but that wasn’t the game they were playing tonight.
Stephen knew how to work a courtroom and read a witness. He knew how to convince town halls full of people to trust him with control of the state reins. But soon he would be in the company of dominant men who understood what it was like to control someone’s pleasure. If he’d never experienced it, they would know.
God, why wasn’t he touching her? What was taking him so long?
“You should know I’m a sassy submissive,” she offered into the silence. “I have a hard time letting go completely. I always have. I’m also a glutton for punishment.”
He didn’t respond.
“There are different types of subs. Some girls want to be taken care of, or even owned, but I’m not one of them. I like to be earned. To be a challenge. I might do whatever you say, but I’m not above trying to convince you to want something else.”
Still nothing. When she couldn’t take it anymore she lifted her head to find him naked and staring at her body, her handcuffs dangling from his fingers. “Stephen?”
He shook his head. “Your breasts are too damned distracting. They jiggle every time you talk.”
The devil came out again. “You could slick them up with lube and fuck them…if you want.”
Stephen swore, moving closer and tossing the cuffs, lube and a foil-wrapped condom beside her body. “I didn’t know you wanted the lesson to be over that quickly.”
She lowered her arms, using her hands to press her breasts together. “Wouldn’t you like to see how it feels? I know you’ve thought about it before. Sliding your cock between them, each thrust pushing the head of your thick, hard erection into my waiting mouth…”
Stephen spoke through gritted teeth. “This is the sassy part, right? Hands above your head, Natasha, and roll over onto your stomach. Now.”
She hid her smile and did as he asked, putting her arms back over her head. “Whatever you say, Senator, sir.”
Stephen swore again. “Are you going to call me that all week?”
“What? Senator or sir?”
“Stephen,” he rebutted. “You’ll call me Stephen. Or sir.”
She shivered. “Are you sure you haven’t done this before…sir?”
“Believe it or not, I can read, Natasha.” His fingers curled into her hips and dragged her toward him until her feet were on the floor and her breasts were pressed into the mattress. He squeezed her ass cheeks then smacked them lightly. She wiggled her hips in approval, which made him smack her again.
His touch was skilled. More than she’d expected. Whatever he was reading, she wanted a copy.
“I’m not sure this view is helping,” he murmured. “All it’s doing is making me think of things we haven’t done. Things I’d like to do to you.”
There was only one thing they hadn’t done, sexually speaking. Just the thought that he might want to sent a fresh flood of arousal through her body. “I wouldn’t mind.”
“It’s also making me think about spanking you until you think twice about teasing me again.”
No amount of spanking could stop her from doing that, but she didn’t tell him. “I already told you, you can do whatever you want to me. You’re in control.”
His hips pressed against her. “The most dangerous sentence I’ve ever heard.” He spanked her lightly. “And I’m not sure it’s true. I don’t know how I can look at this body and not want inside. I’m not sure I’ll be able to control myself, to keep my hands off you long enough to do what I need to do this week.”
Come inside. Please. “Y-you’ll have a lot of bodies to look at. Male and female. The people attending have a tendency to shed layers in safe group settings. Particularly the submissives who want attention.”
“And you’ll join them, won’t you?” he growled, reaching for her thong and dragging it down to her thighs. “Not just because you’re playing a role. You like the attention too. You always have. At sixteen you liked it.”
She liked getting his attention. When he spanked her hard, she gasped. “You mean my leotard phase? I was in dance. It was required.”
“Only in class. You were at my house, in my backyard, with Jeremy, Owen and Seamus nearly passing out every time you leaned forward or bent over in that thing.”
“You were too cool to notice.”
“I noticed.”
He did? They hadn’t gotten together until she was in college. She’d had no idea he even knew she was alive at sixteen. “Did you like my tight little leotard, Stephen?”
He growled. “I spent a lot of damn time imagining peeling it off of you and feeling like a damn pervert, if that’s what you wanted to know. And nothing’s changed. You’ll go to the party and let everyone see you like this and I’ll just have to sit there and stop myself from responding the way I want to.”
“How would you respond, if you could?”
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br /> He didn’t hesitate. “I’d get you on your knees, spread your legs and take you in front of them. I’d make you shout my name so they’d know who you belonged to.”
His possessive tone should have been a turn off. The Stephen she knew wasn’t possessive or jealous. The only emotion she’d ever been sure of when it came to him was desire. But now? Lord help her, she liked it. She loved it. “That’s the beauty of this kind of party. You’re free to make sure they know. To follow your instincts and show them. I promise I won’t stop you.”
“Fuck.”
“Whatever you want, Senator.”
“Stephen,” he reminded her, his voice harsh. Commanding. “Tonight you’ve given me the lead, and I want you to practice screaming my name. Put your hands behind your back. I don’t want you trying to distract me again.”
He slipped the handcuffs around her wrists and she inhaled in sharp desire when they snapped closed. They were just fun toys, silly cuffs to put newer club members at ease or to shock people at vanilla parties. They weren’t meant for serious bondage, and she knew she could escape them with relative ease, but at this moment she may as well have been wrapped in chains. She’d never felt so vulnerable. So willing to be helpless.
And she’d said she wanted to be a challenge.
Foil ripped and she knew he was rolling the condom onto his erection. She’d done it for him so many times that her fingers twitched in memory. She loved the way his eyes went dark and his breath stalled in his chest when her fingers pushed the latex over his thick shaft, caressing every ridge and hard inch of him. Loved how he groaned her name when she’d guide him inside her, straddling him or wrapping her legs around him wherever they were and losing herself in pleasure.
He’s in control now. His room. His bed. His rules.
All she could do was feel.
He leaned over her, tangling his hands in her hair and tugging hard enough that she arched her neck and moaned.
“Do you like that, Natasha? Am I doing it right?”
“Yes, Stephen.” God, yes. Exactly right and you know it, don’t you?
“Does it hurt?”
“I like it.”
He yanked her hair again, forcefully enough that tears sprang to her eyes. “What about now?”
Perfect. “Yes, Stephen. I love it.”
“Are the cuffs too tight?”
“These aren’t made to be.”
“We might have to get a better pair then.” He tugged her head back again and whispered in her ear. “I’ve got you now. You’re mine.”
“Yes, Stephen.”
Stephen Finn was restraining her. Owning her. Claiming her. The idea of it brought her close to climax. “What are you going to do with me now, sir?”
He let out a shaky breath, pulling back. She gasped when the head of his cock brushed against her waiting heat. “I’m going to remind you how well we fit.”
His hand caressed her hips, her bound wrists, her spine. He let go of her hair and pushed her underwear down to her ankles so she could step out of them, and then he was touching her again. Everywhere. Slipping his hard shaft between her damp thighs, mimicking the thrusts she knew were coming. “I wanted to go slow. You said this body was mine to explore and I planned to be thorough. To study every curve…”
Tasha closed her thighs on his erection and heard his breath hiss out through his teeth. “Next time,” she promised, tempting him to lose his patience because she’d run out of hers as soon as he cuffed her. “We have days.”
Those words broke through his restraint. With a low sound of need he cupped her shoulder and hip, filling her with one slow, relentless stroke.
“Natasha,” he groaned.
Stephen.
Her eyes closed and her body came alive. She tightened her muscles around his shaft and bit down on her lip until she tasted blood, reveling in every sensation. It was always like this with him. The instant he began to move inside her, she started to climb. No batteries or tantric tricks needed. Just Stephen. He was inside her, a part of her.
Only now there was more. More sensation. More need, hard as it was to believe.
So much more.
He was pulling her hair again. Electricity pinged through her body and she started to shiver.
“Yes,” she cried. “Harder.”
He let go of her hair and slid both hands between her body and the mattress, squeezing her heavy breasts. “I’m in charge, Natasha. Say it.”
“You’re in charge,” she whimpered, loving his firm grip.
His chest pressed against her back. Her cuffs dug into his muscled stomach, but the sensation only seemed to make him more aggressive. “Your body belongs to me.”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, Stephen,” she gasped. She could hardly move in his grasp, but she rocked back in a silent plea for more of him. She was close. “Please, don’t stop.”
His teeth scraped her neck and she tilted her head, silently begging for more.
“You wanted to discover my limit?” he snarled dangerously as he thrust deep inside her. “No one else, Natasha. Get naked. Play your games. But no one else can have you. Not while we’re there. This is mine.”
Yes, Stephen. “Yours,” she promised. “My pussy. My ass. Whatever you want.”
Her words made him snarl again. He pounded inside her so hard her teeth rattled and the bed creaked. So hard and deep that she had to struggle for enough breath to shout his name.
They’d always been combustible together, but this was… Neither one of them seemed capable of holding back. She’d had no idea it could get better. Not with him.
“It can’t be mine until I claim it,” he muttered almost incoherently against her skin. “I need all of you.”
He released her, pulling out abruptly and Tasha moaned in dismay. “No, please, Stephen. Don’t stop.”
“Unless you use that safe word, I believe you said something about whatever I wanted.” His voice was gritty with lust. “This is what I want.”
To stop? To leave her hanging on the edge of climax? He slid a pillow under her hips and then she felt cool liquid dripping between the cheeks of her ass. Oh God. Oh God, Stephen was going to…
“Yes.” The sound she made was loud and full of desperation. “Yes, Stephen. Please, sir.”
His laugh was rough as he rubbed the thick lubricant into her skin. “Jesus, if I knew a pair of handcuffs and lube could make you this compliant, I would have used them years ago.”
She was drowning in need, pressed against the bed bound and helpless while Stephen prepared her. His finger pushed through the tight ring of muscles and she gasped at the pressure before remembering to breathe.
“So tight,” he murmured. “But you’ve done this before?”
Tasha nodded, too aroused to do anything else. Stephen stretched her until he could slip in a second finger to join the first, and she shouted in shock and pleasure at the painful pinch. “Yes, I’ve—”
“No details,” he growled harshly. “I just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t hurt you.”
His fingers thrust slowly inside her, making her pant and shake.
“You won’t,” she whimpered. “You won’t hurt me.”
“Oh, I might,” Stephen replied, something dark in his voice that made her shudder beneath him. “If I did what I wanted to I might hurt you.”
“What do you want?”
“To fuck you through this mattress and make you forget anyone who came before me. To mark you. I don’t like feeling like this, but you want it, don’t you, Natasha? You told me you could take more than I thought. That you want me to give you more.”
Stephen didn’t say things like this. Not when she was awake. “I can take it, Stephen. I need it.”
His pleased growl sent sparks of electricity through her body. When she felt the head of his cock push inside her, she cried out his name. “Stephen!”
“Angel,” he groaned, his hips pressing forward, his hands cle
nched in a bruising grip. “Natasha, angel, that’s… Fuck, you’re so tight.”
She couldn’t catch her breath. Her vision was blurred with tears as she struggled to take him. He was thick and hard, and stretching her so wide she couldn’t decide whether it was too much or not enough.
It was Stephen. It would never be enough.
“Damn it, I don’t think I can last this time. It’s been too long.” He slipped a hand beneath her body, his fingers sliding through her dripping arousal. “I need you to come for me.”
She wanted to. She needed to. She was so close. “Oh God, please.”
Two fingers thrust inside her, matching the rhythm of his cock in her ass. “Give it to me. Give me what’s mine. Scream my name and come for me.”
His teeth scraped her shoulder and he bit down in warning, and that was all it took. Supernovas exploded behind her closed eyelids and set off a chain reaction in every cell of her body. Her sex clenched around his fingers, her ass around his erection, and every muscle in her body seized, arching off the bed as she found her release.
“Stephen!” She screamed over and over again as he thrust deeper inside her once, twice, before joining her with an agonized shout.
She couldn’t stop trembling. Not when he kissed her back, pulling out of her slowly. Not when he came back to release the handcuffs and clean her used body with a warm, wet washcloth.
He climbed onto the bed and leaned against the headboard, dragging her into his arms and kissing her hair, her forehead, anywhere he could reach. “Natasha? Talk to me. Was I too rough?”
She almost laughed, but she was afraid she’d start crying. “Did I use the safe word?” She didn’t wait for him to respond. “You were good.”
“I should have taken lessons from you years ago,” he said softly.
“You didn’t need them until now,” she responded. “I always knew you were a quick study, but I underestimated your skills. I don’t think this party will be a problem.”
He’d been more than good. Natasha had once been strapped to a St. Andrew’s Cross and whipped until she’d collapsed. She’d cried for an hour with a release that had been more healing than two years of therapy, but that paled in comparison to Stephen Finn’s experimental bedroom play.