by Measha Stone
She hadn’t shown up there, which both relieved and panicked him. If they didn’t go to her place or another club, did that mean they’d gone went to the newbie’s place?
Instead of calling George for the private information on the new club member, Kendrick decided to swing back to her apartment. A massive amount of pressure dissolved in his chest when he saw the lights on in her place.
He had already decided to protect her from the newbies and arrogant Doms, but this immense relief at finding her safe and untouched sealed his mind about seeing her privately—intimately.
Her strong interior impressed him. She would bend to his will that wasn’t a worry for him because she wanted it. She sought out a piece of herself she didn’t fully understand yet. He had been in such a situation before.
Elizabeth.
She’d come into his life effortlessly. She’d been the new barista at the coffee shop he frequented. After a few months, she knew his drink, and he knew where she hid her vibrator. He introduced her to his kinks and his life; she took to it just as easily as she’d slipped into his heart.
But like most romances, things dulled. She no longer yearned for his whip or his approval. She craved the attention of others. She wanted to be lent out to others at the clubs, but he didn’t share. The parting was mutual and respectful on both parts.
He’d seen her with other Dominants at the Gallant Domination, and although, he missed her moans and her smiles, he’d found himself happy for her. She was finding herself.
All of that went away after Ted slithered into her life.
Kelly wasn’t Elizabeth, though. She was stronger, and she already knew the dangers of men like Ted. He hadn’t been able to stop Elizabeth from getting hurt, but he could prevent Kelly from seeking the attentions of the wrong men.
The fact that he found her sexy in both body and mind didn’t bother him in the least. He knew better than to think any relationship with her could result in a long term commitment, but he was drawn to her.
His thoughts wandered to the diamond shaped birthmark on her inner thigh, and he picked up the pace of his run.
It was after noon, she would be home from her tutoring session.
CHAPTER NINE
Tick…Tick…Goes the Second Hand
Maintaining focus during the tutoring session with her chemistry students had never been such work before. Kelly kept one eye on the clock during the entire meeting and swore to herself the hands were purposely moving slower than usual.
When the last of the students gathered their books and headed out of the classroom, Kelly swiped up her purse and ran for the train. Her cell had no reception in the underground tunnels of the EL, so she kept it in her purse.
Once she was out of the train and halfway up the stairs to the main street, she pulled it out to check for his message. Nothing.
Standing in front of her apartment she looked again. Nothing.
After grabbing a bottle of water and sitting at her kitchen table, she picked up the phone again. Nothing.
She stomped her foot and growled her frustration.
Two hours after getting home from her tutoring class, her phone buzzed on the coffee table.
Kelly’s heart sped up and her stomach twisted with a nervousness she was not used to having when it came to a man. Always longing to not be the person in control, she wasn’t sure what it was going to be like now that she’d gotten what she’d asked for.
She sat on her couch, television remote in one hand, ham sandwich in the other, staring at her phone. It buzzed again.
The sandwich landed on the plate when she dropped it reaching for the cell. A quick swipe to unlock the screen, and she was at his text—his address and a time frame of twenty minutes.
The cab ride would take ten, which only left her with another ten for getting ready. Luckily, she just needed to throw on an outfit, but unlucky for her she hadn’t decided what to wear yet.
The solution came as she opened the door to her closet.
Another text: Blue jeans and a T-shirt. Nothing low-cut.
She stared at her phone for a minute with a crinkled brow. Nothing low-cut? She wasn’t even sure she owned anything that didn’t display at least a little cleavage.
Exactly seven minutes later she settled herself into the backseat of a cab. She hugged her purse to her well-covered bosom as the driver dodged vehicles and bike riders through the clogged arteries of the city.
The car pulled to the curb in front of Kendrick’s building, giving her exactly two minutes to take the elevator up to his apartment. She threw her money on the cab driver’s lap and bolted from the car, leaving him a generous tip in her haste.
The door to Kendrick’s apartment swung open just as she stepped onto the door mat. He greeted her with a warm smile and an approving glance at her shirt.
The only shirt she owned that met his requirement was a Twisted Sister T-shirt an ex had left behind long ago.
Kendrick stepped out of the way and motioned for her to enter.
Too nervous to stand still, she began to admire the artwork on the walls of the foyer. She hadn’t taken the time the other morning to explore his place.
The black and white photographs hanging in the hallway depicted different architectural angles of the city.
“Kelly, come here.” His voice pulled her away from an interesting photo of the skyline.
She spun on her heel and went back to the door, where he had remained.
“It’s not polite to enter someone’s house and start snooping about without at least greeting them.” The tone of his voice was firm, but the volume remained low and controlled.
She felt the blood in her face drop, and she found looking him in the eye to be difficult.
“I’m sorry.” She heard the softness of her own voice and took a deep breath to find her spine again. Giving him a large smile, she said, “Hello.”
“That’s better.” His grin crept on to his face, a small crease appearing next to it—she wanted to kiss that. “Thank you for being on time. I hate waiting.” He rested his hands on her shoulders and pulled her to him, placing a kiss on her forehead.
“Me too.” She hoped her voice didn’t sound as desperate to him as it did to her own ears.
“What were you doing when you got my text?” he asked, turning from her and heading down the hall, gesturing for her to follow him.
“Watching TV,” she answered.
“Did you eat yet?” he asked, leading her to the living room.
“Yeah.” She stood beside an ottoman, as he walked to the windows to angle the blinds. The afternoon sun shone brightly into the room.
“Yes.” He looked over his shoulder at her.
She tilted her head.
“I don’t like the word ‘Yeah’. The answer is either Yes or No. Never ‘yeah’.” He instructed her from the windows.
“Oh.” She nodded. “Okay.”
“Sit.” He waved at the ottoman.
She did so, crossing her ankles and placing her hands in her lap.
“How did the tutoring session go?” he asked, taking a seat on the couch near her. His arms draped over the back, and his right foot rested on his left knee. He looked so relaxed, while she felt like a large bundle of firecrackers were sitting in her chest, waiting to blow up.
“Good. The students lead the group themselves. I’m just there in case they need help or need to use some of the lab equipment.” She hoped her voice sounded aloof. She was having trouble remaining casual—a first for her.
“What do you teach?”
“Chemistry mostly. This term I did take on a biology course as well.” She fidgeted on the ottoman, finding a more comfortable position.
“You’re a science buff.” He grinned. “Smart.”
“Science is logical. It makes sense. There’s almost always an exact answer to a question, and if there isn’t now, there will be once more studies have been done.”
“Hmm. You can control the data.” He nodded. �
�Or at least how it’s collected.”
“Yea—I mean, yes.” He smiled at her correction. Her chest loosened a bit, a few less exploding firecrackers to worry about.
“Do you like control?” His question felt heavy, full of unsaid words she worried would strangle her answer.
“I guess it depends on the situation. In the classroom, I have to be in control or nothing will be achieved.” Her explanation seemed to please him; his smile widened slightly.
“With your friends?” He pushed on.
“I never felt like control was an issue there. I never thought about it.”
“Previous boyfriends?” It was beginning to feel like a weird job interview.
She took a minute to think over her ex’s. “I haven’t been that lucky in my relationships. With most of them, I wanted him to take control, to be stronger—but I didn’t choose very well. Too many times I ended up being the one controlling things.”
“You didn’t like that?”
“My relationships never lasted that long. Once I start feeling like he’s going to let me lead him by the nose, I lose interest.”
“What about sex?”
“What about it?” She quirked her lips and uncrossed her ankles.
“Do you like to control it, the when, where, and how of it?” He kept his eyes on hers; she stopped fidgeting.
“Sometimes,” she answered honestly. “But…” she paused.
“What?”
Her eyes moved away from him. She’d never said the words out loud before. There had only been one man in her history she’d tried to express her desires to in the bedroom.
While they were making out in her bed, she’d dragged his hand to her hair and clenched it around her locks. He’d removed his hand as soon as she had let him go and had promptly told her he wasn’t into any of that freaky stuff.
“Kelly. Answer me.”
“What’s with all the questions, anyway?” She stood from the ottoman and walked around it, placing the piece of furniture between them.
When she had told Kendrick of her thoughts on being owned at the club, he had pushed her away. What would he do if she told him normal sex did nothing for her, and she had been faking most of her orgasms over the past several years? Would he laugh? Would he call her broken?
“We’re just talking.” He remained seated. “Sit back down, please.” He pointed to her seat with a nod.
She shook her head.
“Kelly, you will either sit down while we talk or you can kneel, but you won’t be standing over me like this.” He still didn’t move from his position, but his voice held a weight of authority that stirred feelings within her.
She didn’t want to push him; she wanted his tone back to pleased.
Afraid of what emotions kneeling would unleash in her, she casually retook her seat.
“Now, you were saying.” He prompted her.
She took an unsteady breath. “How do I know you won’t laugh?” she questioned.
“You don’t.” He shrugged. “I don’t think I would laugh. I can’t imagine you saying something that would make me laugh in answer to my question. But if you’re asking me if I’ll laugh at your wants, needs, or desires…I can promise you I won’t.”
“At the club—”
“At the club, I wasn’t laughing at you. I was trying to protect you.” His voice dropped, making him sound regretful, apologetic. “I went about it the wrong way. I’m sorry if it hurt you.”
The silence hung between them, and she seemed unable to make her mouth move.
“Now, finish what you were saying.”
“Last night, before you showed up, I was watching a romantic comedy. Well, really, it was an action movie, but it was so cheesy… Anyway, there was a love scene… It did nothing for me.” She tucked her hands under her legs.
“It didn’t turn you on?” He entwined his fingers together in his lap.
“No.” She kept her eyes on his hands. There was a strength in them that she suddenly wanted to feel on her skin. The roughness of his fingertips trailing down her arms, the firmness of his palms on her hips—these thoughts were drowning her.
“What would have turned you on?” His question pulled her from her fantasy.
“If he had grabbed her by the hair.” Her answer sounded meek. “If he had tossed her onto the bed. Anything that would have shown his power over her. If she had obeyed a command, even a small one…” She trailed off, unsure of continuing and making a fool of herself again.
“Obedience turns you on?” His voice lightened.
“Yes.” She nodded, but did not look at him.
He dropped his right foot from his knee and scooted over on the couch, until their knees touched.
He reached over to her, lifted her gaze to his with a fingertip under her chin, and held her eyes with his. “Me too.”
CHAPTER TEN
Every Lesson Has a Syllabus
“You don’t like that shirt you’re wearing,” Kendrick stated, not moving his eyes from hers.
Kelly remained locked in his gaze as he leaned toward her and kissed her lips. The kiss was short. A warm peck would better describe it.
She parted her lips, a welcoming invitation, but he refused.
“Do you?” He noted the hint of frustration in her expression when he pulled his lips away from her.
“Not really,” she answered softly.
He released her chin and sat back on the couch. “Take it off,” he instructed.
Her eyes darted to his face, searching his expression. He managed to keep his lips in a straight line. No reason to give her too much too soon.
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” he questioned with a raised eyebrow. Since his run, he’d had to keep his urge to find her and strip her, from surfacing too quickly.
“Not really.” A wide grin replaced her quizzical look. She stood from the ottoman and grabbed the hem of the black cotton T-shirt. In one fluid motion, she pulled it over her head and held it in her hands. Her breasts were larger than he remembered from his glimpse of her a few nights ago. Her black satin bra held them lovingly in their cups, exposing her ivory skin.
“Don’t sit.” He stopped her from returning to her seat and stood from the couch, meeting her nose to nose.
He touched her neck with his fingertips and slowly slid down her shoulders to where her bra straps hugged her shoulders. With little effort, he hooked them around his fingers and dragged them down her arms. As the straps lowered, the cups of her bra pulled down, freeing her generous breasts with a subtle bounce.
Her throat clenched, and he grinned down at her. “That’s better, yes?” he whispered into her ear.
She nodded, silent.
He reached around her, pulling her in for an embrace as he unhooked the bra and slid it completely from her arms. Then he held the bra up to her face, dangling it from one finger.
He took the shirt from her hands and walked away, leaving her standing topless in his living room as he put the items on a small table beside the couch. When he returned to her, he sat back on the couch and motioned for her to sit again.
As she did so, she gave him a look of impatience that made him want laugh. He raised his eyebrows instead. “I thought you were a patient person.”
“I am,” she threw back at him. Her hands fidgeted on her lap, as though she was fighting an internal war about covering herself up.
“You wanted me to touch your breasts.” He pointed to her naked chest.
“Yes.” She nodded, thrusting her chin forward.
“But, I didn’t.” He leaned toward her and rested his hands on top of hers, stilling her movements.
“Why?” she asked with more heat than he supposed she’d intended.
“I wanted to see your breasts, not touch them…yet. You mentioned being owned last night. If I am to own you, then your tits are mine, and I can look at them whenever I want. I will touch them whenever I want. Does that idea excite you or scare you?” he asked, keeping his ha
nds firmly planted on top of hers, but letting his thumb rub along her leg.
Her cheeks flushed with a soft hue of pink, but she kept her gaze on him. He was pleased with her self-control.
“It excites me.” Her answer was given with force, but spoken so softly he might have missed it if he hadn’t been expecting it.
“Are you wet?” he asked with a sly grin, their eyes remaining locked.
“Probably.” Her lips curled into a challenging grin. “Why don’t you check?” She ran her tongue over her lower lip.
He wanted to bite it, but he pulled his hands away and sat back.
“Stand up.” He waved in the air.
She looked momentarily disappointed that he hadn’t taken her up on her offer.
It wasn’t easy to deny her his touch, especially when he wanted to devour her from head to toe.
Once she was standing again in front of him, he said, “Hold your tits in your hands.”
After only a minor hesitation, she brought her hands to her breasts, placing one in each hand. She looked as though she wasn’t sure what to do next.
“Have you never played with them before?” he asked with a hint of levity in his tone.
She shook her head. “Not really.”
“I want you to touch them the way you’d like me to. Pretend your hands are mine.” He rested his arms on his knees, bringing his face closer to her.
She closed her eyes and began to slide her hands over her nipples. She gripped her breasts underneath and ran her thumbs over the pert peaks. By the awkward movement of her hands, he imagined she felt silly. He was aroused—extremely hard and ready for her.
While she continued her actions, he placed his fingers on the waist of her jeans. “Keep your eyes closed,” he directed when she looked down at his touch.
With slow purpose, he unbuttoned the top of her jeans and slid the zipper down. His eyes wandered from her face to the opening of her pants.
He peeled one side away and revealed a pair of black lace panties, perfectly matching the bra he had removed moments before.