He laughed. “Maya, for someone who’s supposedly pretty smart, you are an idiot; do you know that? You are utterly gorgeous. I slept with you because I really, really wanted to. And had I known about the stuff between you and your previous boyfriend, I would have still really, really wanted to sleep with you. Trust me; there would have been no pity.”
“However Maya,” he continued, “you let me tie you up and beat you, but you didn’t trust me enough to tell me the truth about your previous relationship. I’ll be honest, Maya, I feel used. And I don’t like it.”
Crap. He was right. I had been so consumed by the idea that Ryan would magically fix my problems that I’d ignored the fact that he had a right to know what he was getting into.
“I’m sorry,” I said, and I really was sorry. “I should have told you.”
“Mmm hmm.”
Ryan was still holding me. I took that to be a hopeful sign. “Can we be friends?”
Ryan laughed, humourlessly. “Ah Maya… Nina and I are friends; Gayla and I are friends. You and me? What I feel about you, Maya, whatever it is, it isn’t friendship.”
And what do you feel about me? The question hung, unspoken in the air, but I didn’t have the courage to ask.
“What now, then?” I asked instead.
He answered with a question of his own. “Why are you in Paris?”
It was time for honesty, and so I told him about the last dream. I didn’t leave anything out. I told him all of it; how I dreamt I was tied up and being whipped by him, how the faceless woman had laughed at me, Ryan’s cruel words in the dream. I was revealing more than I wanted to, but he deserved the honesty.
He continued to hold me in his arms, but he was quiet as I talked. There was silence when I’d finished my story.
“Ryan?” There was hesitation in my voice as the silence stretched.
“There’s no faceless woman, Maya.” His hand stroked my hair lightly. His voice was now wry. “On the other hand, the cross and the whip really do exist, if you want to see them.”
Hope blossomed in me. “Just to be clear,” I asked carefully, “are you actually propositioning me?”
“Maya Martinez,” Ryan said, the words serious, but with amusement threading through his voice, “will you let me tie you up and whip you?”
I grinned like a goof, and looked up at Ryan. “Yes, please.”
Chapter 7
Idiot, Ryan mentally chided himself. All reason had fled at the sight of Maya at his door. He’d spent a difficult three months, trying desperately to focus on his work. The planned writing session at the cottage had never happened – he’d spent a week there trying to write, but instead kept reliving her moans when tied up; her laughter, the feel of her skin against his, the way she’d unconsciously snuggled against him when she slept. He’d been worried about her getting too involved – he should have instead worried about protecting himself.
Getting back to Paris was no help either. He found himself unwilling to call his usual sex partners. His playroom with its collection of bondage gear gathered dust, and its emptiness mocked him. Angry at himself, he’d thrown himself into work, and written three months of utter drivel. It was a good thing he was between books – his editor would have either killed him or herself if she had read the junk he’d produced.
For more than eight years, since the debacle that was his relationship with Patricia, Ryan had kept a tight rein on his emotions. He didn’t date; he chose women to sleep with who were as commitment-phobic as he was; he never got too close, and he never got involved. Getting involved was a short cut to getting hurt; Ryan had been taught that lesson over and over again in his life.
But somehow, all his rules had gone by the wayside with Maya, perhaps because the Martinez estate was one of the few places in the world where Ryan truly let down his guard. Somehow, Maya had managed to find a way in; she had become important.
When he got her final text, it had torn him apart. He had cursed himself for days, angry that he hadn’t probed more; that he hadn’t tried to understand why she had propositioned him. She had had a good time in bed with him; he was an experienced enough lover to know that, but he wished he’d kept the sex more vanilla. She didn’t need to be exposed to the whips and chains; she was a relative innocent, who deserved to be with someone more conventional.
And yet, now that she was here and nestled in his arms, he was offering to show her his playroom? You are such a hypocrite, Clayborn, Ryan muttered to himself, shaking his head in disgust.
***
“You have a dungeon?” I asked, intrigued, yet amused. “It all seems so, umm, gothic.”
Ryan’s lips quirked. “Just for being such a smart-ass, kitten, I’m going to give you a few additional strokes with the whip.” It was not really a threat; Ryan was more amused than annoyed.
“I don’t call it a dungeon.” He grinned. “I think dungeons need to be underground by definition, don’t they? And we are, after all, above ground. More a playroom, if you will. Shall we?”
He led me down a corridor, opening a door at the end. I followed him inside with a mixture of trepidation, curiosity, and arousal. Mostly arousal, if I was being honest.
My first impression of the room was a sense of openness and space. It was light and airy, with windows covering two walls. Then my eyes were drawn to the large St. Andrew’s Cross in a corner. I gulped. It looked formidable.
Ryan’s eyes followed my gaze, and he grinned at me.
“That’s quite the conversation piece,” I said, warily. Back at the cottage, it was just some rope and some clothespins. This was different, more serious. I wasn’t sure how I felt.
Ryan looked at me. He’d sensed my increasing nervousness, and his eyes caught mine. They were filled with warmth and kindness. “Relax, kitten. We’ll ease up to it. But first, I need to talk to you. Come here.”
He pulled me on the bed; we sat side by side, leaning on the headrest.
“I will admit, I’m not entirely sure if us playing again is the best idea, Maya,” he said, quietly, taking my hand in his, entwining his fingers in mine. My heart dropped. I couldn’t deal with his rejection.
“But yet, here we are, again, and I find myself wanting to touch you so badly,” he continued.
I looked at Ryan. He was obviously struggling to say something. “Maya, there’s no easy way to say this, so I’m just going to say it badly. I like you a lot. I had a great time this summer. And I’m thinking that, given your very explicit dreams, you like me too. But here’s the rub – we cannot date each other. This isn’t about the age gap, though that matters. And it isn’t about the San Francisco, Paris locations. Essentially, I have no desire to be in a relationship. It just isn’t going to happen.”
He liked me. My heart sang. I heard the rest of his speech, but for the moment, I refused to let it bother me. Though I’d fallen in love with him, I wasn’t an idiot. I knew the score. If I’d hoped for something more than just sex with Ryan, I’d kept it buried deep in my subconscious. But in this room, sitting next to him, with his fingers lacing mine, I very much wanted the sex.
“I know that,” I said, after a moment of silence. “But I’m here now. If you aren’t otherwise occupied, perhaps you could show me how this thing works?” I gestured to the St. Andrews Cross, and looked hopefully at Ryan.
Ryan looked at me. “Are you sure, Maya?” he asked. There was no amusement in his voice; he was as serious as I’d ever seen him.
I leaned over, boldly, traced his cheekbone softly with my other hand, the one that wasn’t entwined in his. “Yes,” I said softly, leaning over and kissing him.
His lips felt like sweet water to my parched throat. All the need I’d kept at bay for the last three months poured out as I touched him, as I felt his tongue move in my mouth, insistent and demanding. Gods, I had missed the way he made me feel, soft and vulnerable. He groaned, and pulled me in so I was sitting on him; I could feel his erection against my pussy. My entire body was tingling with arousal
, as his hands moved over them, touching me, stroking me.
I moaned in his mouth; my hands clutching his back, pulling him in towards me. I desperately needed to feel him against me. The wetness in my pussy was threatening to soak through my jeans.
I half-expected him to stop me, to slow me down, to reassert his control, but it seemed like he had no desire to wait either. He moved me off his lap, threw me on the bed, and tore my jeans off me. Quickly stepping out of his clothes, he plunged into my wet, waiting pussy. I mewled in utter arousal as his shaft buried into me.
He pounded into me, hard and fast. This wasn’t slow and gentle lovemaking; this was primitive and animalistic. My brain had shut down, I was reduced to just feeling. My legs wrapped around him, and he was on top of me, slamming into me, and all I could do was to move my hips to meet him, and embrace the intensity and the toe-curling pleasure.
The quaking started, deep down inside, as my nails curled into his back. “Ryan, please,” I begged, though I didn’t know what I was begging for.
“Hold tight, kitten,” Ryan muttered. Sweat shone against his skin as he continued his assault on my body.
“Ryan, I can’t hold on,” I moaned.
“Then come, Maya,” Ryan murmured, as his fingers found my clitoris. That was it; I came hard, thrashing under him, my nails digging into him, as waves of intense pleasure washed over me. Ryan thrust in me, impossibly harder and faster, and then he came too, with a choked-off shout.
He collapsed next to me, and we lay quietly in the darkening twilight, as we recovered from the earth-shattering intensity. I still had my t-shirt on, but I shivered slightly as the sweat on my skin cooled.
“Here.” Ryan pulled me into his arms, and pulled a coverlet over the both of us.
“Mmm.” My brain wasn’t capable of forming words yet, as I snuggled into Ryan.
Thoughts washed over me as I lay there. What did he want from me? Was this the last time we’d have sex? It seemed like every time we slept together, we did it against Ryan’s better judgement. I sighed. It all seemed so complicated, when it should have been simpler. I wanted him, he wanted me. We were both single. Wasn’t that enough? I guessed not.
“For how long are you in Paris?” Ryan asked, interrupting my thoughts. His fingers stroked small circles around my nipples, and they immediately hardened in response. Gods, I was aroused again! I could feel the wetness seep from my pussy, as I pushed my hips into his.
He pinched my nipple, hard. “Answer my question, Maya,” he chided softly. “And hold still.”
Fuck. I hated holding still. “Till New Year’s Day,” I said, distracted.
“Not spending Christmas with family?” he asked, momentarily surprised.
“Nah, everyone’s doing their own thing this year.” I moved against him, hoping he’d resume touching my nipples.
He pinched the other nipple, harder. I yelped. “I told you to hold still, you know,” he said mildly. He sounded amused.
“Fine.” There was grumpiness in my voice.
He laughed. “Silly kitten,” he said softly. “Where are you staying?”
What was this, Twenty Questions? “At Nina’s, while she’s away in Moscow,” I said, but this time, I held still.
“Would you like to stay here instead?” Ryan asked, tentatively.
“What?” There was shock in my voice, I hadn’t expected this. I turned to face him.
“You will be punished for not holding still,” he said, his lips quirking, as I looked at him in astonishment.
I ignored that for the moment. “You want me to stay with you? For two weeks?” I couldn’t keep the surprise out of my voice. This was… unexpected. A quiet joy was rising in me.
“Sure,” he said, his hand softly stroking my hair. “I could show you around Paris. It is your first time in the city, isn’t it?”
“Would you also show me around your dungeon?” I asked, need filling my voice. Was he just offering to be my tour guide? I had to know.
“It isn’t a dungeon,” he corrected automatically. “But yes, if you are interested, I’d very much like to show you around my playroom.”
Wow. I got to stay with Ryan for two weeks, while he showed me his city during the day and did wonderful, depraved things with my body at night? Every bit of me wanted to say yes, but I had to understand.
“Why?” I asked. “I thought you didn’t want to be in a relationship with me.”
“I don’t want to be in a relationship with anyone,” he said. “It isn’t personal.” He hesitated, forming his words with care. “But I find that I really would like to spend the next two weeks with you.”
My choices were laid out in front of me. I could walk away now, or I could walk away, two weeks later. But in either case, I would have to walk away. Nothing more was being offered.
If I had any sense whatsoever, I would have walked away at that point. Already, I could not stop thinking about Ryan. I shuddered to think of the emotional mess I would be after two weeks of non-stop Ryan Clayborn goodness. But I’d done the right things all my life - going to school, working hard at the firm, dating the proper boys, and I wanted, desperately, to be stupid and impulsive; to be irrational, to act on the feelings coursing through me.
“Okay,” I said softly.
“Okay what?”
“Okay, I’ll stay here for the next two weeks.”
“Good.” He reached for my face, and kissed me briefly and possessively. “We’ll get your bags from Nina’s tomorrow. But now, Maya?” There was laughter in his voice.
“Right now, Maya, it’s punishment time.”
Chapter 8
Should I have feared my punishment? I didn’t. I’d been dreaming of being whipped by Ryan, of orgasming as he lashed me. Anticipation surged through me.
“You are supposed to look at least a little nervous at the idea of punishment, you know,” Ryan remarked, laughing. “My reputation will be in smithereens.”
“I think your reputation will be just fine,” I said, snidely. Women approached me all the time, asking me if I could introduce them to Ryan. It got tiring after a while.
Smack. His hand had reached around, and he’d spanked my naked ass. I could feel the heat spread from his hand, through the rest of me.
“Don’t be snide, kitten, it doesn’t suit you,” he rebuked. “Come on, up you get, take off all your clothes, please.”
I did as I was told, quickly pulled the t-shirt over my head, and throwing it onto the bed. I stood there naked, at the side of the bed, a little self-conscious. Ryan lay in bed, naked, on his side, just watching me.
“You are so gorgeous,” he said quietly.
I felt the colour rise in me. He was openly staring at me, and I felt the urge to cover myself.
“Eye contact, please, Maya.”
Damn it. I was embarrassed by his scrutiny. I reluctantly met his eyes. They were laughing. Damn it, this gorgeous guy who had me dreaming of being tied up and whipped was laughing at me. I couldn’t keep the irritation out of my eyes. I didn’t like this.
“Cup your breasts, Maya. And then, pinch your nipples. Hard. Pull on them, make it hurt.”
What? I was shocked. I couldn’t touch myself in front of him. I hesitated.
His mouth tightened in an annoyed line. “I really hate repeating myself, Maya. It will get worse if you don’t obey.”
I obeyed. Biting my lip, I cupped my breasts.
“Offer them to me.” His voice was hoarse. I snuck a look at him. He was hard and ready to go. Gods, I wanted him in my mouth. I wanted to taste the hard perfection of Ryan; wanted to reach with my tongue and lick that tip of pre-cum, glistening on the head of his dick. I was dripping wet.
I held my breasts towards him, as if on a platter. “Please, Ryan, will you touch my breasts?” I asked. My voice was breathy with need and want and longing.
“Pinch your nipples.”
I lightly pinched my nipples between my thumbs and forefingers. Damn, but this was getting me wet
, touching myself in front of Ryan, in response to his firmly-voiced commands.
“Pinch them harder, Maya.” His voice was clipped.
I couldn’t hold back a moan as I pinched harder. Unconsciously, I pressed my thighs together, trying to subtly rub them together, my pussy clenching, as I tried to bring myself to an unobtrusive orgasm. But of course, he was having none of it.
“Oh come on, Maya, legs apart.” His voice was laughing. “Do you really think that will be allowed? If you want to come, you’ll have to ask me for it.”
“Please make me come, Ryan,” I said promptly, longing etched in my voice. I was standing, naked, in front of him, while he ordered me to pinch my nipples; I had no pride about asking him to make me orgasm.
“Not just yet, kitten.”
“Pull your nipples away from your body, Maya.”
I moaned again as I obeyed. His eyes were on my breasts as I complied with his order, stretching my nipples out, pulling them away from my body. My nipples grew hard as they responded to this rough treatment. I bit my lip as I fought to keep my legs open, as I’d been ordered.
“Offer them to me again, Maya.”
I cupped my breasts again, and held them towards Ryan, the need obvious on my face. My nipples were standing out; they were larger than I’d ever seen them. I could feel them throb. I didn’t speak, words didn’t seem necessary.
“Nice,” Ryan muttered, appreciatively. “See how they’ve grown, Maya.”
He was still on the bed, watching me. It was weird; I was embarrassed to be touching myself in front of him, even more embarrassed at how turned on I was getting. My body was flush with arousal, my pussy was dripping.
“Let’s add some nipple clamps, shall we, Maya?” Ryan said, softly.
I moaned. When we’d played with the clothespins, back at the cottage, it had been really, really intense. I wasn’t sure how I felt about nipple clamps.
My trepidation must have shown on my face. “Relax,” Ryan soothed. “They won’t really hurt, you’ll be fine.”
“The clamps are in the dresser, Maya. Top drawer, left hand side. Please fetch them for me.”
Teaching Maya Page 5