Is that what he would be like? Dominant Alistair? Firm, seductive … gentle?
Giving into her arousal, closing her eyes, she ran one soapy hand down her body, caressing her soft skin as she played with herself. Images from the internet flooded her memory, as well as her conversation with Snow.
Returning to the earlier image of her tied to the bed, she was now also blindfolded, Alistair straddling her hips. Her knees bent up as his fingers played with her pussy, her back arching, body writhing as he brought her to the brink and stopping — just to bring her there again. Edging her over and over. A leather collar wrapped around her neck, with a leather belt attached in front — one Alistair pulled at as he continued to finger-fuck her. Pulling her up by the neck, immobilizing her, he leaned forward, biting her nipple before suckling it, sending delicious jolts through her pussy. “Like that, do you? Of course you do, Princess. I can feel you squeezing my fingers.”
The slick finger circling her clit moved faster as the Alistair in her fantasy continued to speak roughly to her, bite her, pull on her collar. He continued to edge her until she cried out, begging for release. He only laughed, darkly, as he continued his torturous play.
Falling against the shower wall, she came, images of coming around his fingers flashing behind her closed eyelids. Fantasy Alistair released his grip, allowing her to fall flat against the bed, legs spread wide, unable to hold them up. He bent forward, kissing her forehead, her cheek, her neck. Praising her with his lips. Whispering to her, “Good girl.”
Yawning into her palm, Jayla waited on the sidewalk. Alistair called her a few hours ago, asking her to dinner before their shift for the evening started.
She heard the purring of the sleek bike well before he came into view. He pulled up in front of her and lifted the visor of his helmet.
“Hey, Princess,” he said offering her a helmet from the back of the bike.
“Mine?” she asked, surprised he had followed through on his promise. “Wait, is this,” she pointed at the two triangular ears affixed to the top. “Is this a cat helmet?” she laughed, taking it from his hands.
His grin shook her to the core. “Yeah. If you hate it, I’ll get a different one.” He leaned over the handlebars. “But … I saw this in the store, imagining you in black leather, black boots, wearing this, and got so hard I had to turn away from the sales lady to adjust myself. Even if you only wear it today, I’ll be happy.”
She cocked a brow, imagining him in the store, cheeks reddening as he ran a hand through his hair, trying to hide his erection.
Actually, he probably wasn’t the least bit embarrassed.
Her heart skipped a beat at the idea of him choosing this helmet just for her, as opposed to having an extra lying around. “I love it. It’s kind of perfect.”
Leaning forward, he helped her put it on, adjusting it to fit correctly. Once she was settled behind him, they took off, toward the restaurant.
They were seated at a cozy table near the window at one of his favorite restaurants, which turned out to be a vegetarian restaurant with outstanding reviews. The upstairs loft they sat in was nearly empty given the time of day — hours after lunch, but not yet dinner.
Jayla smiled at Alistair from across the table. His dark T-shirt stretched across his chest, showing off the hardness. The short sleeves revealed the ink that trailed over his skin. She craved the chance to trace the lines of each tattoo, to ask what each one meant.
Looking down at the leopard print on her own wrist, she changed her mind. Knowing him, he’d ask her about hers and she didn’t like talking about her tattoos. While he now knew what they hid, she didn’t want to spend any more time talking about her past.
When the waitress delivered their first course, she inhaled deeply.
“Smells so good!” she exclaimed, picking up her fork. At first, she’d balked at the prices on the menu, unable to fathom spending twenty dollars for a ravioli appetizer, but he’d insisted she choose or he’d choose for her.
Taking her first bite, she was happy she’d given in.
“Mhmm,” she nearly moaned over her fork. “This. This is … amazing.” Opening her eyes, she licked a drop of sauce from the corner of her mouth.
She could feel his eyes on her lips and she held up a hand to halt the words that were sure to follow. “No. Let me enjoy this without an innuendo.”
He laughed. “I was just going to ask for a bite. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
Obliging, she held out her fork, offering him a sample. Leaning forward, taking it from her, his lips wrapped over the pasta, his gaze holding hers.
He did the same with his appetizer, sans fork, offering her a date dripped in honey on top of a cheese she couldn’t pronounce. As she leaned forward, opening her mouth, she made sure to let her tongue lightly graze his fingers as he placed the morsel into her mouth. With his pained expression, and shifting in his seat, a smugness came over her.
“Delicious,” she purred, after swallowing.
“I bet.”
“Why don’t you try it?” she asked, feigning innocence. The truth — she wanted an innuendo from him, craved his flirting.
He leaned back, licking a drop of honey from his knuckle. “Seems I’m hungry for something else tonight.”
She nodded her head toward her plate, refusing to let him win. “There’s more, if you like.”
“I’m not easily sated. I’ll always want more.”
“Greedy.”
“Hardly.”
She cocked a brow. “How can you always want more and not be greedy?”
His lips curved into the sexy slanted smile. “Because, Princess. Whatever I take, I’m sure to give back. Multiple times. Until I have to be told to stop.” He leaned forward. “Even then, I might keep going.”
Tempting. “Whose mind’s in the gutter now?”
“Got you thinking about it though, don’t I?” he smiled, knowing full well that, yes, she was thinking about it.
Hmmm … should she continue? She loved teasing him, loved the slack-jawed look that crossed his face when she flirted back. Yes. Yes, I should.
“Not nearly as much as this morning. By myself. In my shower.”
As predicted, his eyes widened ever so briefly before narrowing back on hers.
Lowering his voice, he challenged her, “Liar.”
She moved forward, mirroring his tone. “You can think I’m lying all you like. Doesn’t change how hard I came thinking about you touching me…” Dipping a fingertip into the small pot of honey on his plate, she watched his gaze follow her movements as she lifted it to her mouth, slowly sucking the sweet nectar. “…licking me.”
His groan was audible. “You might want to think twice before teasing me, Princess. You won’t like it when I play along.”
“Is that how you speak to all your subs?”
“You’re not my sub.”
Her eyes narrowed at the statement. It was truth, yet for some reason, it didn’t sit well with her. Pangs of jealousy shot through her at the thought of other woman having been his sub — enjoying him in that way.
“What would you do then, if I were your sub?”
His tongue darted out, licking his bottom lip. “Right now?”
“Start there.”
“I’d tell you to go to the bathroom, to remove your panties.”
She swallowed at the change in his features at the command. “If I refused?”
The corner of his lip lifted. “Are you refusing because you don’t want to … or because you do?”
Shrugging, she avoided answering, cursing him for his ability to read her.
“I’d command it a second time. If you didn’t, I’d walk you to the bathroom, and remove them myself. I’d place them in your mouth, muffling your screams as I bent you over the sink, giving you five spanks for disobeying me.” He leaned in further, and she instinctively did the same. “Then, I’d rub my fingers through your folds, finding how wet you are from the punishment, before
pushing two fingers inside your slit.”
Her breaths quickened, his voice rumbling over her, sending chills down her back. The image wasn’t frightening — in fact, she almost wished he’d follow through. Just hearing what he would do, she could imagine herself in the bathroom, dripping for him as he played with her. Instinctively, she crossed her legs, the movement increasing the sensation to her center.
“I’d command you not to move. You’d struggle against me, earning yourself another swift spank. I’d rub the spot gently, coaxing away the pain as your skin turned pink from my hand, before pressing my fingers back inside, bringing you right to the brink.”
She was nearly there, just from his voice and imagery. Her legs squeezed together again, searching for just an ounce of friction.
“Just as your mouth opened to scream out, I’d stop. I’d bring your pants back over your perfect legs, buttoning them as I stood you up. I’d make you lick my fingers, to taste your own sweet pussy, reminding you not to be angry I didn’t let you get off — you’d deserve the punishment for not listening.”
Bringing his hand under her chin, spreading his fingers over her neck as he had before, he kept a firm hold on her with his thumb and pointer. She hated admitting how it affected her — in the best way possible.
“Now, tell me, Princess. If you were my sub, what would you do?”
Staring into his eyes, she noted the deep brown had nearly been eclipsed by the black of his pupil, having enlarged with heat at his own story.
She may have been aroused, but she was still herself. “I’d tell you to fuck off.”
Her pussy clenched at the smile that crept along his face — sinful, promising everything and nothing all at once.
“Perfect.”
The waitress arrival with their entrees forced them apart, but he never removed his gaze.
Who knew food could be such a great foreplay?
When they were alone again, Alistair’s tone turned serious. “What would you need to feel safe?”
“In bed, or in general.”
“Both.”
Looking toward the window, Jayla thought. “I-I’m not sure. I mean, I do feel safe with you.” Adding the qualifier, “Mostly.”
Quirking a brow, he watched her a moment before taking a bit of his food. “I’m looking forward to figuring you out.”
“Who says you’ll get the opportunity?”
“The fact you nearly just came at the table.”
She nearly choked on her water. “You wish!”
“Not going to pretend I don’t,” he answered, with no hint of embarrassment.
They finished their dinner, the conversation remaining PG.
They stood to leave and Jayla headed to the bathroom while Alistair paid the bill. Washing her hands at the sink, his voice sounded in her mind — and an idea formed.
She met him outside by the bike a few minutes later.
“Hey, you forgot something,” she said, reaching for the helmet in his hand, exchanging it for a wadded black ball of lace.
She couldn’t help the grin as he processed what was in his hand — her panties.
Slinging her leg over the bike, she whispered to him, “Maybe I’ll let you punish me later … for keeping you waiting.”
To her surprise, he turned, facing her.
Lifting the hand with her panties to his face, he inhaled deeply. Instead of disgust, she only felt a rush of arousal at his approval.
“My dirty little Princess,” he growled.
Chapter Twenty
Alistair sat at the bar, nursing an old fashioned. Gene did the same with his gin and tonic. He hadn’t had a chance to speak to Gene much since the night at Aleksandr’s, but there was something decidedly off about his friend. Something, he suspected, having to do with a certain blonde.
“Can’t have her, man,” Alistair stated, staring into the mirror at Gene. The bar was nearly full, the sultry filler music playing as the women prepared to grace the stage for the first group number of the evening. Guards were ready at their stations with Max taking the first shift in the control room.
Alistair’s phone was out, willing a text message from Peter to arrive. He tried calling — a few times — before bringing Jayla to dinner, as well as a few times since returning back to the club, with no response.
Dinner. Alistair’s grip tightened on his glass, recalling their conversation. The heat in her gaze, the way her chest and cheeks flushed as he told her — partially — what he would do to her as his sub. The parts he left out … he could only imagine her reaction.
Which was a problem. As apparent as her arousal was, he worried she would never be able to fully submit to him. Not with the abuse she suffered. He would never be “normal” enough for her, always wanting to bring their sex games to a darker place. One he would never bring her to if it would, in any way, damage her further.
In short, they were fucked. And not in the good way.
“You talkin’ to me, or about yourself?” Gene asked, taking a swig of his drink.
“Both, I guess. For different reasons.”
“Well, mine’s taken. What’s your excuse?”
“To be fair, you’re taken as well,” Alistair commented, taking a long pull of his drink.
Gene snickered. “It’s been a long time since I’ve considered myself taken, Al.”
Vanessa. Gene’s wife had done a real number on him.
“Any news?” Alistair asked, preparing for more drama. Where Vanessa was concerned, there was always drama.
“Nothing new. Still refusing the settlement, thinking she deserves more for my being gone half the marriage.” He swirled the drink in his hands. “She’s actually trying to say her infidelity is my fault. And that she was so traumatized by the potential I would get injured she can’t work because she needs ‘significant mental health treatment which could last years’.”
Alistair whistled low. “Tough break, man. I hate to say it though, but…”
Gene laughed darkly. “I know. You told me so.”
“How’s the baby?”
“Dunno. Haven’t asked about her since I found out she wasn’t mine.”
On top of his PTSD and cheating wife, the “only good thing” to come out of their relationship — his adorable, cherub-faced daughter had turned out not to be his. Vanessa lied to him for months, telling him their child was conceived during the time he’d been home on leave. The baby was born “premature” according to Vanessa. While he was knee deep in his comrades’ viscera following a surprise attack in Afghanistan, the only thing which kept him going was the thought of returning to his beautiful wife, and now, daughter.
A few months later, when the baby spiked a fever while Vanessa was out with friends, Gene had rushed her to the hospital in a panic. There, he learned his daughter was a month and a half older than he believed her to be. At that age, there was no way Gene fathered her — he wasn’t anywhere near Vanessa during that timeframe. The news was devastating for him, effectively losing both his child, and wife, hand in hand with an ear infection diagnosis.
Alistair opened his mouth to offer his condolences, again, when Gene interrupted. “Nope. Don’t want to hear any more about the train wreck that is my life. Wanna hear about your train wreck.”
Alistair inhaled deeply. Turning to face his friend, he spoke low enough to keep the conversation just between them. “She’s got a bad past.”
“How bad?”
If it were anyone but Gene, he wouldn’t speak so candidly. If he couldn’t be honest with Gene, and trust him fully, he couldn’t with anyone.
“Her fuck of an ex abused her. Actually, abuse isn’t even the right word for what he did. She’s told me some, but I’m sure it’s not even the half of what she’d been through. Which is saying a lot considering he tried to kill her. Stabbed her.”
Gene whistled low. “Shit. Figures, though. She’s got a tough shell, but she’s nothing but a peach on the inside.”
“Shell? More like a fu
cking forcefield. I don’t know what she’s better at — keeping people out, or keeping herself in.”
Alistair continued. “She’s so fucking strong, though, Gene. She survived what would kill just about anyone else. You have no idea how badly I want to find this guy.”
Gene smiled. A true smile, no mocking in his expression. “You like her.”
Alistair placed his glass on the bar, staring into the honeyed liquid. “I do. She’s … God, she’s beautiful. Her eyes … and her hair … and that smile.”
Slapping his back, Gene drew his attention. “No, man, not attracted to her, that’s a given. You like her.”
Alistair inhaled at the thought. He was drawn to her. He’d wanted her from the moment she ran into him on the street. The first time she’d opened her mouth, her quick wit combined with the sassy attitude, he’d been like a moth to a flame.
And the more he learned about her, the more he wanted her. She wasn’t just attractive, she was everything. The conversation at dinner? He’d barely been able to restrain himself from grabbing her and doing everything he’d teased her about … and more. His cock had been so hard if she’d have touched him, it probably would have shattered.
Even now, his balls ached with the need for release — preferably inside of her.
He groaned. Way to go, Al. You just get him down, and he’s right back up.
He finished his drink and pushed the glass to the back of the bar. “Doesn’t matter. Even if she thinks she might like the idea of a Dom, she’s been traumatized. She had a flashback the other night when I confronted her about her documents. You should have seen it — didn’t come out for an hour.”
Gene nodded solemnly. “Been there.” Taking a sip of his drink, his hand still on Alistair’s back, he spoke. “One thing I know … if anything could help her heal, it might be submission. You know the power the subs have, it might be exactly what she needs. Control.”
Alistair shook his head. “I could never do to her what she needs as a brat. I could never punish her, I’d be too worried it would set her off.”
Finders Keepers (Fairy Tales After Dark Book 2) Page 14