by Brynley Bush
“I am sure!” I protest. “I want this.” God help me, I do. I ache to feel him inside me, taking me and possessing me.
“How much have you had to drink tonight?” He fixes me with a hard stare. “The truth.”
“Um, three drinks,” I say in a small voice.
He sighs as he rolls off me. “Not tonight, then, little one. When I take you, I want you to know without a shadow of a doubt that it’s what you want.”
“But it is what I want!” I pout.
He pulls me back against his chest, his hands tenderly stroking my hair. “Go to sleep, Ava.”
My eyelids are heavy, the aftereffects of the two body-wrenching orgasms making me sleepy. “I think you have a soft side under that gruff exterior, Roman Castile,” I murmur.
“You don’t know me, Avalon,” he warns, his voice tinged with sadness. “I can assure you I don’t have a soft side. Maybe once, but not anymore. Now I’m just the devil in a well-cut suit.”
“I don’t believe you,” I say, snuggling into the hard security of his chest as I drift off to sleep.
* * * *
In the morning, I believe him.
I wake up to an empty bed, although it doesn’t take long for me to find him working on his laptop at the desk in the suite’s sitting area.
“How are you feeling?” he asks tersely, looking up from the computer as I walk in wearing nothing but the T-shirt I’d slipped on when I’d gotten out of bed.
“Okay,” I answer cautiously, trying to gauge his mood.
“Good,” he answers brusquely. “We have some business to discuss.”
He goes to the small refrigerator and pulls out a cold water bottle and hands it to me. “Drink this,” he says gruffly.
I obediently open the bottle and take several long gulps of the cool liquid before looking back at him. He’s standing in front of me ominously, his feet planted shoulder distance apart and his arms crossed, with a forbidding look in his eyes. The tender, almost vulnerable man who held me last night has been replaced by the hard, intractable Dominant I’m more familiar with.
“There was a one-drink limit before the striptease last night. Where did you get the other drinks?”
I stare at him, saying nothing. I don’t want Tessa to get in trouble.
Roman’s eyes darken, and his lips press into a hard line. “Was it Emmett?” His face is thunderous as he strides toward the door.
I grab his arm, stopping him. “It wasn’t Emmett. I promise.”
He turns back to face me. “Then who was it, Ava?” he asks, his voice quiet but menacing. “Who gave you more to drink last night than you had any business drinking?”
When I don’t answer, he says, “You can tell me who it was and let them be dealt with accordingly, or you can take the punishment for them.”
I wouldn’t have ratted out Tessa anyway, but I’m certainly not going to after all she did to help me.
“I’ll take the punishment,” I say, my voice barely a whisper.
His face is harsh and unyielding. “As you wish. On your knees.”
I look at him in surprise. I’d been expecting another encounter with his belt or at least his hand. He smiles, his eyes glinting with depravity. “Putting you across my knee this morning would be as much a punishment for me as it would be for you. Besides, I like the punishment to fit the crime, and if you hadn’t had too much to drink last night, my cock might not be hard and aching this morning. You’re going to suck me off, princess.”
Oh, God. Did I agree to this? I must have, because I don’t remember not agreeing to it. Then again, when I filled out the form, I had no reason to think this would ever be an issue. But I’ve never given a blowjob before. I don’t even know what to do.
The thought of escape must show on my face, because Roman’s taking a step toward me, wrenching my T-shirt off before I can move. He scrutinizes my naked body. “That’s better. Now on your knees.”
I slowly lower myself to my knees.
“Take off my pants,” he directs.
I push down my panic as I unbutton his pants and slide them over his hips until they pool on the floor. He steps out of them and plants himself back in front of me. I carefully grasp the waistband of his boxers and tug. His cock springs free, thickly veined, hard, and enormous. I’m not sure it’s going to fit in my mouth, much less inside me.
Leaning forward, I close my eyes tightly and tentatively lick his cock. It’s surprisingly soft, tempered steel sheathed in velvet, and I take an exploratory swipe around the thick, wide head. There’s a tiny pearl of creamy liquid at the tip, and I taste it with the tip of my tongue. It’s salty and musky, but not altogether unpleasant. I close my lips around his shaft and take him into my mouth, enjoying the feel of him.
He pulls back abruptly, yanking me roughly to my feet.
“I’m sorry,” I begin self-consciously. I’m sure he can tell I’ve never done this before. I’m probably doing it all wrong.
“Stop apologizing! You have nothing to be sorry for,” he says tersely. “Your mouth feels fucking amazing. Making me come with your mouth is your punishment for breaking the rules last night. But you’ve chosen to also take the punishment for whoever gave you the drinks. Come with me.”
I follow him into the bedroom, my heart hammering in anxious anticipation as I watch him open a large armoire that holds a terrifying array of toys and restraints. He selects what looks like a riding crop with a long leather handle tipped with a flat leather tab at one end. He runs the handle through his fingers deliberately and then whacks the flat leather tip against the bed, making a loud thud. I jump.
“Get on all fours on the bed.”
My eyes widen. What the hell does he intend to do?
He answers my unspoken question. “You’re going to suck me off while I spank you.” His eyes glint wickedly. “Two punishments in one. And as an added bonus, it will provide a nice lesson on focus as well.” He gestures at the bed with the crop, and I look around the room wildly.
“You have exactly five seconds, Avalon,” he says sternly. “Either get on the bed, use your safe word, or tell me who gave you the additional drinks.”
I slowly climb onto the bed on my hands and knees. He comes around to stand in front of me, his cock thick and pulsing. I take him in my mouth again carefully as he runs the leather tip of the crop lightly over my body.
“So help me, Avalon, if you bite me, you will be sorry.”
Trying to focus with the leather erotically caressing my skin, I resume my earlier exploration of the hard length of him, marveling at how his cock bobs against the roof of my mouth when I press my tongue against the underside where the head connects to the shaft. I’m completely blindsided by the sting of the crop against my bare bottom. It smarts way more than his hand. I instinctively try to pull away, but he gathers my hair into a loose ponytail in his hand, holding it with a viselike grip so I can’t move.
He snaps the crop against my butt again. Motherfucker! I moan around his cock in my mouth. Although I don’t know how it’s possible, he grows even harder. Distracted by the unexpected pain, I’ve stopped licking him, a fact he quickly draws my attention to.
“I haven’t told you to stop, Avalon,” he says curtly, using his hand in my hair as leverage to push himself in deeper. His cock hits the back of my throat, and I gag, my eyes watering. He pulls out.
“Stick out your tongue.”
I do as he says, grateful for the reprieve from the crop. He slowly eases himself back in until he’s buried in my throat completely, his balls touching my lips. This time, with my tongue out, it’s easier to take all of him.
“Relax,” he croons softly, keeping his cock there until the precise second that panic flares in me at the certainty that I’m about to choke. Then he eases out and starts again, slowly thrusting in and out, fucking my mouth at an even pace until I get into the rhythm.
I’m so entranced by the heady feel of pleasuring him that I forget about the crop until I hear the s
harp thwack of leather against flesh followed closely by searing pain where the crop lands. The strikes fall one after another across my bare flesh. I thrash wildly, trying to escape the stinging blows, but I can’t go anywhere with his hand tethered in my hair and his cock buried in my mouth. I start sucking him vigorously with everything in me, desperate to end this punishment.
He flicks the crop against my ass again and again as the pain, warm and biting, radiates across my buttocks. Each strike stings, but now each kiss of the leather leaves an intoxicatingly burning sensation in its wake, and I can feel the moisture gather between my legs. I have no idea how it’s possible to both hate and enjoy something at the same time. He keeps pumping into my mouth as the leather mercilessly strikes my ass, and my thoughts splinter, half-focused on the pleasure that’s coming hard on the heels of the edge of pain while the rest of me concentrates on sucking his cock.
He’s relentless, whipping me as fervently as I’m sucking him, as if my life depends on it. He lands one particularly hard smack at the tops of my thighs, and I cry out, although the sound is muffled by his cock. The blows stop then as the leather caresses my sex, slowly and leisurely. Oh, no. No, no, no.
I struggle, but Roman holds me still, my face pressed against his crotch. I have no choice but to continue pleasuring him even as I tense in anticipation. He hits my sex with the crop, but instead of the hard, punishing blows he’s administered to my bottom, he taps my mound repeatedly with short, tightly controlled movements.
My core constricts as my juices trickle down my thighs. Pain has officially morphed into a pleasure so intense I think I’m going to pass out. The sensations overwhelm me—my ass on fire, my mouth filled with Roman’s cock, and the relentless tapping of the crop against my now swollen pussy—and I teeter on the razor edge of oblivion.
He smacks the crop one last time against my sex, and I come with big, engulfing waves of pleasure that rack my body.
I feel him stiffen, his whole body tensed, and then he throws his head back as he erupts into my mouth, his cum warm and thick on my tongue. I swallow as he continues to pump his seed into my mouth, licking him until there’s nothing left.
I’m still on all fours, panting, as he turns away from me.
“Go get cleaned up,” he says tersely. “We have a lunch appointment with Logan.”
Chapter Ten
Roman
Ava spends a good hour in the bathroom, and when she comes out, she’s even quieter than usual, her eyes shuttered. I shower after her, inhaling that intoxicating scent of hers that lingers in the bathroom, trying to figure out why the hell I feel like I just kicked a puppy.
I’ve been telling myself all morning I only did what any good Dom would do last night, giving his submissive what she needed at the time. But the truth is I enjoyed the intimacy of holding her, of pleasuring her for the sake of pleasure, almost as much as I enjoyed the look in her eyes when I told her I wanted her and the taste of her as she shattered on my tongue. So much so that I know I’m being a total asshole to her today, but it’s better if she learns that the Roman she saw last night isn’t who I really am. I’m her Dom—a sadistic Dom who gets off on her pain—and the sooner she understands that, the better. I don’t want her getting romantic ideas about me.
Besides, I’m not treating her any more harshly than I’d treat any other submissive. I’ve never been a proponent for postpunishment aftercare—after all, the whole point of a punishment is to make it unpleasant enough that a submissive doesn’t break the rules again—but then again I don’t usually make a girl come when I’m punishing her either. I fight back a grin. I have a sneaking suspicion my little submissive is a bit of a masochist.
I’d whipped her hard enough to hurt, and in a moment of inspiration I’d struck her pussy with the crop, not intensely enough to cause any real pain but enough to make her squirm. But dammit if she hadn’t come apart, which had gotten me so fucking turned on I’d climaxed instantly. My cock stirs at the memory. While she’d almost seemed inexperienced at it—or maybe she’s just not used to being spanked with a man’s cock in her mouth—it was one of the best fucking blowjobs I’ve ever had.
When I emerge from the bathroom, she’s sitting on the bed—the bed that I can’t look at now without thinking about the feel of my cock in her mouth—and she looks up at me with those soulful green eyes and says, “Are you still mad at me?”
I sit down next to her. “No, Ava, I was never mad at you. I didn’t punish you because I was angry. If I lose my temper with you, then I’m not being a very good Dom. I punished you because you specifically disobeyed rules that were put in place for your own safety. But the whole point of a punishment is that when it’s over, it’s over. Everything is forgiven so we can move forward.”
“Then why are we going to lunch with Logan? Am I getting kicked off the show because I broke the rules last night?” She looks miserable, and my resolve to be firm with her cracks a little. Her body’s taut as if she’s used to bracing herself for bad news. I pull her into my arms, resting my chin on her head as she leans into me slightly, her face pressed into my chest. After a moment, I tilt her chin up so she’s looking at me.
“It has nothing to do with that. I promise. The meeting is completely unrelated to the show.”
“Oh,” she says, her eyes confused.
“Come on,” I say, grabbing her hand and pulling her to her feet. “You have nothing to worry about. Trust me.”
She nods, but I’m not sure if I’ll ever earn her trust. For about the one hundredth time, I wonder what the hell Emmett Stone has done to make this woman who trusts no one open up.
A Helix limousine is waiting downstairs to take us to the Top of the World at the nearby Stratosphere Hotel, where we’re meeting Logan. As we pull away from the Helix, Ava darts a sideways glance at me.
“No blindfold?” she asks impishly.
“Don’t push your luck,” I warn, but I can feel my lips tilt upward. It’s a short drive to the hotel, and Logan’s waiting when we arrive. Once we’re seated, Logan cuts to the chase.
“Roman showed me these pictures from your photo shoot,” he says to Ava, handing her several of the images. She slowly thumbs through them.
“This is me?” she asks disbelievingly. “I look so…I don’t know…so…”
“Beautiful? Submissive?” I supply.
“They’re exquisite,” Logan interjects. “And exactly the image we’re trying to convey for the Helix Room. Roman moving your photo shoot to the Helix Room wasn’t exactly planned, but since he did, and since the pictures turned out the way they did, the Helix would like to offer you a contract to use the images for our print and website campaign.”
Ava’s staring at him wordlessly, the surprise evident on her face. “Where would these, um, images be used, exactly?” she finally asks.
“We have a pretty aggressive marketing campaign,” Logan admits. “They’ll be everywhere—on the hotel website, magazines, the sides of buses—who knows? But the hotel is prepared to offer you a onetime fee of twenty-five thousand dollars for the exclusive use of the images.”
“I wouldn’t take it,” I say matter-of-factly to Ava.
Logan shoots me a look of sheer disbelief.
“Maybe for one image,” I concede. “But if they want all of them, I’d ask for at least fifty thousand.”
Logan rolls his eyes and sits back in his chair.
“In fact, I’d probably hold out for sixty,” I add, taking the opportunity to slide my hand up Ava’s thigh, which is deliciously bare under the floral skirt she’s wearing. Her skin is like silk. “But it’s up to you, Ava.” I shrug.
Logan sighs. “All right. We’ll pay you sixty thousand dollars, Ms. Summers. Due to the intimate nature of the images.”
“I accept,” Ava says quickly with a small, private smile, like she’s privy to some inside joke.
I sit back with satisfaction. Just as I’d suspected, Ava’s clearly motivated by money. That will undoubtedly mak
e it easier for her to accept my offer to be my full-time submissive when the games are over.
* * * *
Several hours later, we’re back at the Helix, getting ready for the evening’s entertainment—a contestant-only pool party. Ava emerges from the bathroom, wearing a royal-blue bikini that manages to somehow be modest while still accentuating every curve of her delicious body, providing a tantalizing hint of what lies beneath for any man lucky enough to get her out of it. And damn, but I feel lucky.
I whistle appreciatively, and she looks up with a smile. She waves a tube of sunscreen. “I’ve got plenty of sunscreen this time, Sir.”
I’m not sure how, but she always manages to make that “sir” sound just impudent enough for me wonder about her sincerity but never certain enough to call her out on it.
I flash her an approving smile. “Good girl.”
She frowns. “I’m not your pet.”
My grin widens. “Not yet.”
She flushes, opening her mouth to protest. I cross the short distance between us and take her chin in my hand, tilting her face up and silencing her with a kiss. Her eyes widen in surprise, but she recovers quickly, her tongue lightly tangling with mine as her eyes close. God, she’s sweet. When I’m finished with her mouth, she’s forgotten all about arguing with me, and I can see the rapid flutter of her pulse.
She clears her throat. “We should go so we’re not late.”
“There’s nothing that turns me on like a punctual girl,” I say.
“That’s because you’re a total control freak,” she retorts. As we walk to the elevator, she asks, “Is this an official group event for the games?”
I shrug. “Not that I’m aware of. I’m guessing it’s more of an opportunity for the contestants to get to know each other and interact. It’s a reality show. Audiences love that shit.”
She nods. “Emmett said pretty much the same thing.” She catches herself and steals a furtive look at me. “I mean, it’s probably a good idea to make friends.”
I ignore her mention of Emmett’s name, taking her hand in mine. “Let’s go make some friends, then.”