by Jordan Bell
Sean pulled me away from the desk and we crossed the expansive room to the elevators. We stepped into the rickety, padded car and as the doors whooshed shut, Sean closed the distance between us, captured my face in his hands, and pressed a hungry kiss to my mouth.
In those blissful moments his kisses burned through the brightest part of me, soft and a little wet, he didn’t rush and I had never been more grateful for our elevator being the slow piece of crap that it was. We kissed blindly for minutes and in that time I forgot anyone else bothered to exist.
“How is it,” he murmured as the car came to a climbing stop and the doors opened, “that I managed to survive six years and now two days away from you I forget how to breathe?”
“Flatterer,” I teased and pushed him away. He grinned that cocky, gorgeous smile and followed me onto the deathly silent third floor. “Welcome to the graveyard.”
He slouched, his messenger bag low on his hip, and gave an appreciative look over the cramped space. “The graveyard?”
I nodded and dragged my fingers across a dusty work table just off the elevator. “Back in the 80s some very rich recluse donated a huge amount of money to the library on the condition that they keep his collection of books intact for a certain number of years. His collection, as it turned out, was some of the most bizarre and useless books in the world, but since we couldn’t shelve it properly with the rest of the library as per his request, here it was banished. You’ll find such bestsellers as The Dangers of Trout Fishing and How to Craft with Cat Hair.”
“You’re just making that up to impress me.”
“No, it’s all true.” I grinned and pulled down a red cover and displayed it for him. “Electric Knives Omnibus, Second Edition.”
Sean took the book from me and flipped through the pages. “I’m not sure what disturbs me more, that the author felt the need for an omnibus volume or that this is the second edition of it.”
“No one comes up here except people who get lost, thus why we call it the graveyard.”
“No one?” He quirked an eyebrow and shelved the omnibus back into its dusty spot.
I shook my head and smiled innocently. He took a step towards me and I took a step back.
“Nope.”
I took another step, then another, and he followed, the joking smile giving way to heavy-lidded, greedy eyes and deep, quick breaths.
“Little flirt. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were inviting me to have my way with you.”
My back hit the end of the book shelf and I turned on the toe of my shoe to move around the stacks, hard metal and sharp spines at my back. I glanced over my shoulder to catch him following like a big cat, all muscles working in powerful unison as he stalked his prey. A flutter of pleasure filled my stomach as I led him on a slow, toying chase to the back corner where a forgotten lounge area was hidden beyond the stacks.
I took one step into the open space when he grabbed my elbows from behind and snapped me back into his body. “Tease,” he whispered against the back of my ear. “Don’t tempt me, kitten.”
I tilted my head back against his shoulder and he lowered his mouth to my throat. His body felt warm and big against my back. Sean’s hands dipped lower to my thighs where he pulled a handful of my skirt into his fist and slowly dragged it up to my hips so that the hem of my skirt barely covered my panties.
“Or maybe,” he murmured, “that’s exactly what you are trying to do.”
Sean let go abruptly and stepped past where I stood wobbly and gasping for breath. His walk was casual but his shoulders rigid. He unhooked his bag and dropped it on the floor beside a large, worn, overstuffed chair and settled into its center. He laid his arms along the chair arms like an emperor and leveled me with his very sudden, serious gaze. My body reacted just as he knew it would, by going weak and wet, my sex throbbing with my heartbeat.
He pointed to the floor in front of him. “Here. Now.”
Did he know how much I craved his instruction? For some ridiculous reason I smoothed my skirt with the palm of my hands and walked to him. There was nothing graceful and seductive about me, never had been, but his lips parted hungrily as he watched me move, as his eyes roved down the shape of my body.
“Give me your panties, Kara.” Sean turned his palm up and a shudder of anxiety and anticipation passed through me. We could be caught by anyone in the library or any of my gossipy coworkers, but that was unlikely. The elevator was the only public way upstairs and we’d hear it coming. I doubted the girls wouldn’t bother to take the old stairs up through the back just to spy.
Still. This would be a first for me. A dangerous first.
I reached under my skirt, hooked the edge of my panties, and shimmied them down my plump thighs. I nudged out of my flats and stepped my bare feet, one after the other, from the flimsy material. Embarrassment colored my cheeks as I realized they were a little damp. The embarrassment deepened when I pillowed the material into his palm and he realized it, too.
“Mmm. Good girl.”
He pocketed the panties and returned his hand to clutch the end of the arm of the chair. When I stepped between his open knees traced his fingers up my inner thigh to the heat pulsing between my legs. His eyes raised, caught mine and held me in thrall. His eyes screamed give and my heart stuttered its acquiescence. Give him anything, it begged. Don’t let him stop looking at you this way.
Sean’s fingers sank to the knuckle into the wet, swollen center and I moaned involuntarily. Briefly I closed my eyes, felt the flutter of a thousand wings rise up from my sex to my heart before exploding in my throat as a gasp that was almost his name. I licked my lips and swayed into his grip which tightened over my smooth mons.
“Tell me what you want, Kara,” he insisted with both his voice and hand. I grabbed his shoulders suddenly, found my fingers in the hair at the base of his neck and held on. My knees threatened, warned that they wouldn’t last long if he kept fingering me like that.
“I want…” My mind swam. I closed my eyes again and gripped him for all I was worth. His thumb slid down the smooth curve of my mons to touch across the small, tender bud. Electricity brightened light behind my closed eyes and I moaned, words dissolving.
“Say it,” he said into the tight space between us. Then his voice lightened with a mischievous grin I didn’t need to open my eyes to know was there. “Or show me. Show me what you want, Kara.”
Words I didn’t have, but that I could do. I pushed him back into the chair. He rounded himself back and hunched down as I climbed onto the chair with him, one knee on either side of his hips. He unbuttoned his slacks, the bottom few buttons of his dress shirt, and reached his fist into his boxers. He raised his eyes to me, the blue darkening with intent. His hands came up around the back of my thighs and as I centered myself over the sharp tip of his cock, he wound the hem of my skirt up to bunch around my wide hips.
He growled pleasantly, a quiet noise as he got comfortable. He lowered his eyes to the intersection between his engorged member and my soft, wet lips, anticipation and guarded need in every panting breath.
“Show me what you want,” he murmured. “Show me what you need. I’ve got you, Kara. Be quick,” he warned mischievously. “You wouldn’t want to get caught being a naughty little girl, would you?”
I groaned. No, I didn’t want to get caught, but when he said it like that, in that voice, moisture flooded the space between my legs and slicked my inner thighs. He held onto my thighs as I closed my eyes and lowered my hips down onto him. The fat head spread my lips apart and sunk an inch or two inside of me and I lost all sense of self. My spine arched, curved away from his chest. I dropped my head back and if it wasn’t for his sudden tight hold on my waist I might have collapsed completely. He bucked his hips up once, spearing me, and I yelped in surprise at the sudden, deep invasion, reminding me I wasn’t done yet.
I sat to the root of his shaft, no longer preferring the slow torturous route to satisfaction. He sucked in a noisy breath and ti
ghtened his fingers into my waist. With him filling me so completely, I rocked forward, curved into his chest and buried my face into the crook of his neck.
“Kara,” he inhaled and slid his hands from gripping my waist to holding my back. I felt my skirt slide along my backside and the tops of my thighs to hide our transgression. I didn’t think I had enough strength in me to pull myself from him if I wanted to.
We stayed like that for a lifetime, connected and content. I inhaled his cologne and sank deeper into his embrace.
And without agreeing, we began to move in unison. I didn’t pull out exactly, maybe an inch or two before grinding back into him and him up into me. We rocked, a slow grind, the quiet punctuated by gasps and sighs, sometimes words that sounded like our names but lost coherency in the intense build-up between our legs.
I rolled my hips, rocked up and back and felt the ridge of his penis flex against the spot inside my body that melted all rational thought. He recognized my mewling and repeated motion, knew I was getting close. He tightened his hold on my body, sank his fingers into my hair and clutched me as we both came, not quite at the same time but near enough to feel right. I didn’t come screaming or thrashing, but it was no less fulfilling. Instead of an explosion I felt a slow burn that left me shaking against him, my fists alternately open and closed as the burn overtook my thoughts. He pumped his seed into me, made our bodies impossibly slick.
“Kara?” he murmured against my cheek. He released my hair and lowered his palm to cup my jaw and cradle me. I could feel him softening inside of me and fluid leaked against my thigh, evidence I was both embarrassed and excited to hide from the world.
“Sir?” I sighed.
He stilled. I felt his muscles harden beneath my palms and his jaw, pressed against mine, clenched. The shift was so alarming I didn’t realize what I’d done until it was too late to stuff the word back into my mouth. Sir. A term evidencing my submission. We didn’t start using it until late in our relationship and then I was never quite comfortable with it. It was Marcus who insisted on that word. He loved being called Sir. Yes Sir, fuck me, Sir. Who’s your master? You are, Sir.
I flushed, had no idea how to apologize or explain. The word came so easily now, but even though Marcus had taught me to use it with regularity, I’d meant it completely for Sean. Of that I had no doubt.
Sean took my chin in his hand and pulled my face away from its hiding spot against his neck. He straightened me enough that he could look into my face and I wondered what he saw there. Despite the tightness in his body, his eyes stayed soft, curious.
“Is that what you want, Kara? Do you want to call me ‘Sir’?”
I didn’t mean to, but I looked down because instead of wrapping my arms around him and kissing him yes yes, a thousand times yes, my thoughts strayed to the anger still boiling in my guts. He’ll leave, it warned. He’ll leave again and you’ll only have yourself to blame.
And there was Taylor Roth, the beautiful woman Sean went home to.
“More than anything in the world.” I swallowed, fought tears that threatened suddenly. To compensate, I snapped at him more roughly than I should have. “I know that you shouldn’t even be here, let alone asking me that.” It was a bratty thing to say and I knew it. Childish. Petty. Wholly born out of jealousy. I didn’t want to share him on the side, no matter how good it felt to have him inside me again.
He tilted his head back to gaze at me, but he didn’t release his hold on my chin. Instead he softened his grip and caressed the line of my jaw.
“She and I are no longer together.” My heart broke itself against my rib cage and I tried to pull away but he wouldn’t let me. He smiled briefly at my reaction. “You have nothing to be jealous of, and no one to feel guilty for. Even if you and I hadn’t done what we did, I would have put an end to it. She and I…it’s a long story. Suffice it to say we were together for the wrong reasons to begin with and we stayed together mostly from inertia. We parted amicably. I wanted to tell you earlier, but admittedly I got a little carried away.”
He lowered his free hand to my bare thigh and rubbed up to my hip and back down.
I didn’t answer him right away. I climbed off his lap and he let me. I needed to clean myself up before we had any sort of serious conversation. The reminder of what we’d just done a little too distracting. I left the area for the storage closet where there was a small washroom.
When I returned he’d fixed himself up, re-tucked his shirt, zipped his pants. He had his hands deep in his pockets and was perusing the shelves when I stopped near him, but not within arm’s length. I was well aware that he still had my panties in his pocket.
“You broke my heart, Sean. You broke it and stomped it to pieces and then walked away without even saying you were sorry and I really hate you for it.”
There. Saying it made breathing easier. I crossed my arms protectively over my stomach.
He closed his eyes briefly, the skin at the corners tightening, his mouth pulling into a frown. When he turned to meet my anger, in his eyes I recognized regret, red and raw.
“I was a coward, Kara. It wasn’t my intention to hurt you. A part of me even convinced itself that you’d be relieved. What we had at the time wasn’t healthy for either of us. I haven’t changed my mind about that.”
I nodded because he was right. It wasn’t healthy to keep things a secret for so long, born out of shame and embarrassment and fear, mostly on my part but he owned some of it too. I could see now that he’d embraced his cravings, but that wasn’t always the case back then. Good Catholic guilt often sunk his moods after a particularly intense punishment scene. He relished taking a riding crop to me, but afterwards his distress over having marked me so violently would blot out the pleasure he had making them. No amount of reassurance on my part helped ease that guilt.
He was completely right. Our relationship had been foolish and unhealthy and we needed time to grow up and embrace who we really were at our core. A girl with curvy hips and plump arms and a boy who liked to kiss the hell out of his girlfriend for letting him tie her up and spank her until she couldn’t walk.
“I’m so sorry. For not saying goodbye or explaining. For being a coward. For loving you but being so afraid of you. Mostly,” he shook his head and I suffered a strange desire to reach up and push his hair from his eyes so that I could see them, even though his regret made it hard for him to look me in the eye. Before I could indulge and go to him, he straightened and met my gaze head on. “Mostly I am sorry for ever leaving you.”
Reluctantly I dropped my arms and relaxed a fraction of my defenses. There was no denying the comfort his words brought me, how they soothed a very old bruise.
I shrugged helplessly. “What are we going to do?”
“Well.” He quirked an eyebrow and let out a breathy chuckle. He was nervous, but damn that never happened. He ran a hand back through his messy hair, hair badly in need of a cut that he wouldn’t get until the last moment between disheveled but sexy and a box for a home under the West Nolan Bridge.
“An arrangement,” he finished. He straightened, hands pushed back in his pockets, blue eyes searching mine for an early answer. “Your obedience. Your body. Your pleasure. We’re good at the physical intimacy and I’m not sure I can keep my hands off you anyway. And I know you can’t say no when I touch you. So let’s not pretend otherwise.”
“An arrangement.” A shiver of pleasure passed down my spine, made my toes curl. We were very good at the physical intimacy. “If you get my body and my obedience, what do I get?”
His grin widened and he stepped closer. “My very thorough attention.” He brought his hand to my waist and traced the ample curve of my body. “And dinner. And breakfast. And tonight. And tomorrow. And the day after that.”
A spark of delight radiated from his touch. “That sounds an awful lot like a relationship.”
“Does it? Are you sure?” He lowered his chin as if to kiss me, but he kept his distance, though his intent was obvious
. My heart quickened as I gazed up into his blue eyes. “And I’d want you to myself. I won’t share your submission with anyone else. We need to get to know each other again.”
“No secrets this time. Everyone knows.”
“Do it,” he said. “Accept. Be mine and I’ll make every night more extraordinary than the next. You will never want for anything, Kara. Kitten.” Sean flattened his palm against my side and slowly drew it up over the curves and bumps and softness of my body to cup around the outside of my breast, all the way up to my neck. His eyes followed the hand’s progress until our gazes met and he had me by the nape of the neck. I found myself leaning into him. Eager. Helpless. “Mine,” he mouthed, hardly more than a breath but I felt it between my legs, a burst of heat and fire.
Mine.
Instead of answering him, I gripped his shirt and pulled him down to meet me on my toes and kissed him open mouthed, soft, pliable, but insistent. So he would know. So he would know my answer was yes.
5
____________
I arrived at the Wonderland restaurant by cab. It was already dark so I couldn’t quite make out the metal trees that made up the front façade of the building. Tonight there was a faint blue light creeping out from around the front double doors.
It had only been a few days since last time I’d stepped into Wonderland, but they’d already made a lot of progress. Round tables and plush booths filled out the main dining room where black and deep purple stripes in crushed velvet draped the walls. Sweeps of soft, gauzy fabric tented the ceiling where chandeliers cast colored light over the carpeted room below. Finally showcased beneath proper lighting, the forest mural I painted felt eerily real, like the room went on for miles. On either side of the room were mismatched doors leading to different rooms, one a silver and white private dining room for VIP guests, the other a Moroccan style lounge that felt like being inside a genie’s lamp.