by Lila Dubois
He knew there were people in the lifestyle for whom caretaking was as important in the power exchange as any physical play or sexual contact. That had never been an urge he felt. Until Alena.
He’d let her give him information about what she knew would work for her aggravated knee and then he’d done the icing and wrapping himself, rather than calling his private doctor to come and do it. Because he’d wanted to take care of her with his own hands.
There had been far more new experiences since Alena came into his life than he’d had in several years prior. The most alarming of which was that he was irrefutably in lo—
“Still pouting about not getting your way?” Alena whispered in his ear.
Alexander reached back and grabbed her, guiding her around from the back of the armchair where she’d crept up behind him and then pulled her onto his lap.
She was warm and a little damp, her hair up in a messy bun atop her head, the V of skin displayed by the neckline of thin robe pinker then normal, mostly likely due to the hot bath she’d gone to take nearly an hour ago.
“Did the hot water hurt your knee?” Without stopping to ask, he flipped the bottom of the robe open to look at her bad leg, as if he could see through her pretty pink skin to the damage inside.
“No, it felt good. Your jet tub is glorious.”
He rubbed his thumb over her kneecap, the visual her story created a bit too fresh in his mind. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
“A tub the size of a spa with jets and a temperature control that keeps the water from getting cold? It was glorious.” Perched on his lap, she raised her arms overhead and stretched.
As she did one breast, covered only by the blue robe he’d found in a stash of new clothing, pressed close to his face.
Alexander’s cock hardened in his slacks.
When Alena lowered her arms she wrapped one around his shoulders. “You know, there was room enough for two.”
“I wanted to give you your space.”
“I thought you wanted the real Alena.” Her voice had a small hint of hesitation now.
“I do. The issue is…is…” He ran his fingers up and down the neckline of the robe and he was rewarded with the sight of her nipple pebbling under the fabric. “The issue is exactly what I want to do with the real Alena.” He very deliberately forced her arm up and off his shoulders.
Then he eased his hands under edges of the robe, fingers tracing her collar bones.
“Stop me,” he murmured, and it was halfway between a poorly worded question—“tell me if you want me to stop”—and a command.
Alena leaned into him, breath fanning across his cheek, and then she breathed a single word. “No.”
Alexander pushed the robe down in one quick motion, baring her breasts and trapping her elbows at her sides.
“Vanilla or a scene?” he asked. Letting her choose was as much as his nearly desperate need to take her, care for her, touch her, have her, would allow. If she said vanilla, he would do his best. Obviously his default would always be to top her in some way, as evidenced by the way he’d trapped her arms. But he wouldn’t tie her down or use toys. But damn it, he wanted to do one if not both of those things.
“What if I don’t choose?” Alena arched her back, lifting and offering her bare, flushed breasts.
“You…don’t want to have sex?” Alexander’s now hard cock twitched in distress.
“Oh, I do. I just don’t want to decide. I want you to touch me and fuck me. I want to touch you. I want to see what happens.”
“Bad idea. I will try and dominate you and—”
Alena whipped the sash off her robe and then looped it loosely around his neck. “I’m not feeling particularly submissive right now…” She tugged, tightening it so it felt like he was wearing a tie. No, ties didn’t feel like that. It felt like a collar.
Alexander met her gaze which seemed to glitter with amusement and desire. He held perfectly still, lulling her into a false sense of security, and then he struck, grabbing her wrist and standing, which slid her off his lap. She might have landed on her knees if he hadn’t controlled it, forcing her to rise with him as he pressed her wrists to the small of her back.
“If you challenge me, I will make you submit.”
Alena tipped her head back, eyes closing. The long line of her naked neck, her nearly naked body—the robe had fallen off and back, caught on her forearms but not hiding her body from his gaze—were an invitation. One he accepted.
Alexander bent his head and slid his tongue up her neck to the corner of her jaw. She smelled feminine and floral and her skin was soft and smooth under his tongue.
Distracted, he didn’t react when she yanked her wrists from his hold and jumped away. He checked the immediate impulse to follow her, to grab her and yank her back. His muscles were so tight and tense it hurt, but he would not force her or scare her, and they weren’t in a scene, so he had no right to turn her over his knee and punish her for removing her luscious body from his hold.
Alena shook her arms free of the robe, then reached up and took down her hair, running her fingers through it until it was loose around her head and shoulders.
Then she arched an eyebrow, ever so slightly. A smile played at the corner of her mouth. “Well? Are you’re going to chase me?”
The smile became a grin and then she was off, racing naked towards the hall, towards his bedroom.
Alexander bared his teeth in a smile and took off after the woman he loved.
When she hit the hall, she slowed down. After all, the fun in this game would be when he caught her, not in the chase.
Alexander was behind her in under a minute but he didn’t close the gap. Instead he kept pace with her until they reached his bedroom.
It was palatial and beautiful. With the same clean, cool-toned aesthetic as the rest of the loft, his bedroom boasted a massive bed, walk-in closet the size of her apartment back in Chicago, and a dozen beautiful photographic prints of the Danube.
She slowed and turned to face him, the edge of the bed several feet behind her.
Alexander slowed too, the little smile on his face both wicked and pleased, and she’d never been more in love with him than she was at that minute.
“Couldn’t catch me.”
“I don’t want to hurt you.”
“Well, that’s disappointing.” She stuck out her lip in a pout.
“Your knee—”
“Is perfectly fine now. Come on, Wagner.” She backed up until her bare legs hit the side of the bed. “Come and get me.” Alena stepped up and back, onto the bed, so she was standing on it, looking down at him.
Alexander’s gaze slid down her naked body, and then in a gruff voice he said, “Turn around.”
She spun, slowly, arching her back and sticking out her ass, then looking back over her shoulder at him, prepared to offer another saucy retort.
Alexander’s expression was blank, his gaze focused on her ass.
Shit.
It had stopped hurting, for the most part, but there were still some bruises. And tonight was the first time she’d been naked in front of him. Not just naked but standing on the bed so her butt was eye level.
“Alexander, it’s okay.” She whirled round and hopped off the bed, knee twanging a little.
He heaved a breath and looked away, his hands opened and closing in fists at his sides.
Alena studied him for a moment, then placed her palms very gently on his pecs. “Are you feeling guilt? Or are you thinking about how you like seeing the marks you left on me?”
“If, if it’s…If it’s the latter, then I’m a—”
“Don’t say monster. You have to call a spade a spade. Say sadist.”
“Then I feel guilty for being a sadist.”
“Don’t. I don’t want you to feel guilty. What we did in Moldova, our bargain…it was fucked up, but it’s the kind of fucked up we enjoy.”
Alexander finally relaxed, and she put a hand on his cheek to force him to
look at her.
“I shouldn’t have been so hard. For days after, I watched you wince every time you sat down and…”
“And what, suga’?”
“And I loved knowing that I’d left my mark on you.” His hands settled on her hips. “It’s a terrible thing to enjoy.”
“I don’t think it is, because I enjoyed it too. Up until the part where you made me feel stupid.”
He leaned his forehead against hers. “You are remarkable, and no one should ever be allowed to make you feel like anything less.”
His words were calm and precise. Which meant he’d thought about them, that this was a thought he’d had time to formulate.
If she hadn’t loved him already, this moment would have pushed her over that precipice, sent her tumbling.
“I need you to touch me,” she whispered. “Please, Alexander.”
His fingers flexed on her hips and then he walked her backwards until her legs hit the bed. Alena sat, then scooted herself back. She felt soft, and yes, a little submissive, as she looked up at him. He stood over her, tall and commanding, fully dressed while she was naked.
For the first time since their encounters at the Orchid Club, she’d had time to prep and primp. She’d shaved, tweezed, scrubbed, and moisturized every inch of her body. As she’d prepared herself, her fingers had slid over her vulva and clit, her vagina and anus.
Now she wanted his fingers instead of her own.
“Show me you want me,” he said softly.
Alena lay back on the bed, and raised her hands above her head. She spread her legs, bending her knees and bracing her heels on the bed so he could see, access, not just her pussy but her ass.
“More,” he demanded.
Alena hesitated, then reached between her legs with one hand and spread her pussy open with two fingers. The slick folds of skin slid out from under her hand and she tried again, this time sliding her fingers deeper between the lips before spreading.
Alexander knelt beside the bed, his attention focused on her pussy. He hooked his hands around her thighs and pulled her across the bed.
His tongue touched her clit, a gentle stroke that lit her body on fire. Tears pricked her eyes and when he guided her legs over his shoulders and buried his face against her pussy, her first sob of pleasure was accompanied by a flood of tears.
Alexander licked and sucked her clit, her fingers now trapped between his face and her own body. She could feel him exhale through his nose against her hand, feel the hint of stubble on his chin against the soft insides of her labia.
But above all, she felt his tongue on her clit. Stroking her, toying with her. Pleasing her.
She didn’t know why she was crying, but she was.
The orgasm came slowly, so slowly that she was starting to worry it was taking too long, that he would grow tired of licking her pussy. But Alexander was focused, relentless. He lapped at her clit with long, broad strokes of his tongue, then sucked gently before switching it up to rubbing his tongue in circles. That particular move was new to her and it was wonderful, so amazing that she could barely think every time he started that.
The pleasure built, but slowly, like a pot coming to a boil. First small bubbles of pleasure appeared, slowly getting bigger and bigger.
She grabbed her breast with her free hand, pinching her own nipple. Her legs tightened around Alexander’s shoulders, her heels digging into his back.
When he tugged on her forearm, she slid her hand out from between his face and her pussy, sliding her wet fingers into his hair and forming a fist. She used that hold on his hair to pull him even tighter against her sex. Now she felt his breath on her pussy and he had to pause every so often to drag in air, which added a delicious cold sensation to the pleasure.
After a moment, he changed it up yet again and used the very tip of his tongue to flick and tap her clit. Alena’s jaw clenched and she moaned. She was close and she should say that, tell him she was about to come, if not ask him for permission to do so.
But instead she stayed quiet, her body tight as the bubbles of pleasure grew bigger and bigger.
He flattened his tongue and rubbed her clit.
Alena came. The pleasure inside her reached a full boil, and as her back arched, her legs tightened, and every muscle in her abdomen clenched as waves of pleasure pulsed through her.
And as she climaxed she was silent, the only sound her uneven breathing.
Alexander rose, holding her legs so that when he was standing, her legs were alongside his torso, her feet by his ears. He’d opened his pants at some point, his cock long and hard.
He wrapped one arm around her thighs, just above her knees, spread his legs, and then slid his cock deep inside her still pulsing body.
The sudden fullness spurred a fresh wave of pleasure. Alena’s eyes closed, her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Then Alexander went stiff, his teeth closing over her ankle, his hips slapping against her butt and the back of her thighs.
He relaxed, sliding out of her only to scoop her up and reposition her in the middle of the bed. Then he crawled in next to her, laying his head on her chest, his arm wrapped across her stomach.
Alena bit her lip to stifle the sounds of her tears. She still didn’t have a name for what they were—happy tears, sad tears, pure emotional release? A reaction to the first time having vanilla sex with him?
In the end it didn’t matter, because as the tears faded she felt utterly at peace, her body satiated by the orgasm, her soul freed of its burden by the tears.
But as she lay with Alexander, she knew that she would love this man until the day she died.
It was too bad that, according to the plan, in three short days she’d be on a plane leaving Vienna, and Alexander.
Chapter 9
“I do not like this.” Alexander’s English was clipped, his accent thicker than normal, and more formal.
Alena smoothed the lapels of his suit coat and adjusted his tie. Both were perfect, but she liked touching him. And it seemed sort of…wifely.
She really was a masochist if she was, even only in the secret recesses of her mind, playing house with him.
It was early the next morning, and Alexander intended to go back to work, though just in his office on the first floor, not to the Wagner Global headquarters.
“I will be back in one hour to get you,” he continued.
“I’ll be ready.” She winked up at him. “I plan to snoop through all your things and maybe masturbate.”
He didn’t smile. “I hate this plan.”
“I know you do. Interpol knows you do too.” They’d had an early conference call with Rolf and Agent de Gaul to go over the plan. The senior agent hadn’t even blinked that a slave auction was a part of the plan. That and the fact that half a dozen Interpol agents from around Europe were being assigned to this operation made it very clear that stopping Absolon and the people he worked with was high on Interpol’s priority list. “But you’re willing to go through with it.”
Alexander sighed and absentmindedly ran his hand down her back, cupping her ass in a way that made her breath catch.
“I will be back.” He turned to the door.
“Have a good day at work, suga’.” She blew him a kiss, and when he turned to look at her on his way out the door he was smiling.
Alena headed for the bedroom. Though she was tempted to do exactly what she’d told Alexander she was going to—poke through his stuff and masturbate—she actually jumped on the treadmill in his small private gym for half an hour—mindful of her knee—stretched, and then showered.
As she did, she ran through the plan over and over again, imagining different scenarios. Planning out her game play.
Except this time she wasn’t playing alone. She had Alexander as her secret ally, and Interpol would be taking a much more active part in the process.
Today she and Alexander were going to meet with Absolon, and announce the gala and discuss what Alexander wanted from him. Then she was going
to meet with Absolon alone and drop some serious hints about their relationship, while discussing the details of the party.
A local Interpol agent would be posing as the party planner—which primarily consisted of issuing invitations and making decor suggestions, since the housekeeper had a system in place for events. RTW would send over a team to discuss event security with the Interpol agent and Absolon either later today or tomorrow depending on how the morning went.
The event itself was scheduled for this Friday. An insanely short time for planning something of this magnitude, and it wouldn’t have been possible if the catering couldn’t have been handled by the in-house chef, but the hope was the sense of urgency would dovetail nicely with Alexander’s supposed need to get rid of her.
That was, after all, what this boiled down to. The billionaire was going to sell his troublesome sex slave to another billionaire with the same perversions.
Between now and then Alexander needed to behave normally. Luckily his default mode was silence, which was perfect for this. She would plan the event, Interpol would provide individuals who could both play along and keep their mouths shut to add veracity, and there were a few other key individuals who would be coming to the actual gala. Apparently the CEO of RTW was an Orchid Club member; though she hadn’t seen him at either of the events, according to Alexander he’d recognized her during the interrogation.
By the time Alexander returned to his apartment, she was dressed and ready. She’d officially run out of new things to wear from among the clothes she’d brought, but Dieter had proven that he wasn’t just an excellent shopper in the men’s department. She’d given him a list of pieces, and he’d delivered a dozen shopping bags, all from luxury brands or small boutiques, last night. The housekeeper had taken the rest of her clothes to be laundered, and so she had her own bras and underwear.
Not that she was going to wear underwear.