by Jasmine Hill
She spun around, her skirt flaring out around her shapely legs, showing off the blonde curls at the juncture of her thighs and the rounded cheeks of her ass.
He stood. “You will not be doing that outside of this suite.” Fuck me, if she does that anywhere else but in front of me, I’ll end up killing someone.
“You didn’t want me to wear panties,” she reminded him.
“I’m well aware of that. Just remember that you aren’t wearing any, so no impromptu pirouettes.” He stepped toward her and cupped the cheeks of her ass, tugging her into him and rubbing his erection into her soft core. Her sky-high heels made her taller, so he didn’t need to bend his knees and pick her up as he usually did to get her just where he wanted her—against his hard cock. He ground against her, moaning low in his throat.
“If you keep doing that I’m going to ruin my dress,” she breathed. “You’re making me wet.”
“Christ, baby. I could take you right here, right now.”
“Do it,” she pleaded into his mouth.
He shook his head. “No. We have your training to discuss and it’s best done over dinner.” He spun her around so her ass cheeks were pillowing his cock and slipped his hand around to her front and under her dress, delving a finger deep inside her tight, hot pussy. He thrust in and out for a moment then removed his finger and ran her moisture around the lips of her cunt. She fell against him in limp compliance, gyrating her hips in encouragement.
He chuckled. “Time to go, angel. We’ll be late. I just have one more thing to do.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Donovan looked delectable in black jeans, a light gray dress shirt and a black blazer. His hair roguishly mussed with a five o’clock shadow on his jaw gave him that really hot edge that she loved. Makayla stared at him as he drew a long box out of the inside pocket of his jacket.
“A present for you.” He handed her the box.
Makayla took it from him and untied the ribbon. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was… She didn’t know what it was. There were two bullet-shaped objects connected to a fine silver chain by long leather loops. She picked it up, her brow furrowing with her confusion.
Donovan smiled and took it from her to drape it around her neck. He looped it once then allowed the bullet-shaped droplets to hang on either side. He then untied the straps of her dress, exposing her breasts, and bent forward, sucking a nipple into his mouth and drawing on it deeply. Makayla moaned, feeling the sensation acutely in her core, as if there was a live wire connected directly to her clit. He pulled away and performed the same action on her other breast then stood and examined his handiwork, her nipples now pointing high and erect. He positioned the leather loops of the necklace over each of her turgid little peaks and tightened them. Finally, he fixed the straps of her dress back in place.
“It’s a necklace,” Makayla announced triumphantly. Although, why most of it was covered by her dress, and attached to her nipples, no less, she didn’t understand.
He took a step back and placed his hand in his pocket. “Not just a necklace.”
Suddenly the necklace started to vibrate. Makayla gasped as little bolts of pleasure attacked her nipples.
Donovan grinned. “It’s a vibrating droplet necklace. I want you to wear it tonight and I have the controls.” He held up a small box and the vibrations stopped as quickly as they’d started. “I had them rig it to be controlled remotely. I thought it would be more…enjoyable to catch you by surprise.”
Makayla frowned. “Does it look obvious?” she asked dubiously, walking to the full-length mirror to study her reflection before turning back to Donovan.
His gaze heated and zeroed in on her nipples. “No,” he assured her in a tight voice. “I, of course, know it’s there, and it’ll be another thing to drive me crazy, but to everyone else, it will look like a standard necklace.” He lifted his gaze to meet her eyes. “Let’s go. We’re late.”
Makayla walked next to Donovan, his hand on the small of her back. She was getting used to his possessive gestures, not that keeping a hand on her was possessive. It was quite sweet, really, but his hard glare toward any man who happened to look in her direction was slightly over the top. She smiled to herself. He really did act like such a caveman sometimes, and she wondered if he was like this with any of the other women he’d gone out with. She had to work hard not to fidget and be too self-conscious about her outrageous piece of jewelry.
The restaurant was decorated in a contemporary style, the colors muted and neutral. Understated and sophisticated were the two adjectives that stuck in Makayla’s brain. All the tables offered privacy and a wonderful view of the city. The patrons were all dressed elegantly, and Makayla noticed the women wearing designs from the likes of Prada and Luis Vuitton, the designer side of her personality suddenly on high alert to the fashions. The staff were all dressed professionally in black and white, their bow ties knotted to perfection as they scurried around unobtrusively ensuring that all the guests had what they needed.
The maître d’ showed them to a table in the corner, which had a fabulous view over the city and the park, and a rounded bench seat on one side, ensuring that both diners could enjoy the vista. He placed two glasses of cava in front of them, a plate of bite-sized crab croquetas and a bowl of marinated olives. A string quartet was playing on a stage in the corner of the room, providing soft ambient music.
“I took the liberty of ordering for us earlier,” Donavan told her. “I hope you don’t mind, but I wanted you to try the paella here and it’s better if the chef has prior notice.”
“Of course,” she responded enthusiastically. “I’ve been wanting to try it.” She took a sip of her cava and studied Donovan thoughtfully. “Are you always so possessive of the women you go out with?” she finally asked.
He looked surprised. He leaned back, elbow on the armrest, using his thumb and forefinger to rub his chin, his eyes narrowed pensively. “Actually, no. Well, not in the same way.”
Makayla cocked an eyebrow. “In what way, then?”
He breathed out audibly. “I’ve only ever had two semi-serious relationships and those were not relationships in the traditional sense. They were both long-term submissives. As a Dominant, I tend to be a little possessive, but more protective of my submissive. I need to be confident that she is comfortable, that I understand what she needs, and most of all, that I can ensure her safety and wellbeing. I was protective to that extent, and if my submissive, through mutual consent, wanted to play with another Dominant, then I was definitely protective over her and I would only allow that to go ahead when I was confident with the experience and habits of the other Dominant.” He sighed. “Makayla, you’re the first woman I’ve explored anything other than a D/s relationship with. And I don’t know what it is, but I’m totally different with you. I’m possessive, bordering on crazy where you’re concerned. Ever since I first met you, I’ve wanted you and, as you know, I stopped at nothing to get you over here with me. With you, I’m possessive, protective and dominant in and out of the bedroom. I know I fuck up sometimes, but it’s because I don’t know how to deal with these unfamiliar feelings and this…situation. Also, to be brutally honest, I never thought that I’d be interested in vanilla sex, but since you, that’s changed as well.” He grimaced. “You see how everything about us is new to me too?”
Makayla shook her head in astonishment. It was the most that Donovan had ever revealed about his feelings for her, and she suspected that he’d surprised himself too. She had so many questions. She took a sip of cava, trying to gather her thoughts, and was thankful when their waiter arrived with their shared starter of ensalada de pulpo. She smiled at Donovan’s fondness for ordering shared plates.
“I hope you like octopus,” he murmured, piling her plate with salad then handing it to her. “It really is very good here.”
“I like to try everything that you recommend.”
Donovan smiled his appreciation, and they were quiet for a few minutes, each en
joying the starter. The octopus was very good, moist and barbecued to perfection, and accompanied by a fresh salad of lettuce, red onion and olives.
Makayla put down her knife and fork. Something that Donovan had said intrigued her. “You said with me you’re dominant in and out of the bedroom. What did you mean by that?”
Donovan pushed his plate aside and took a sip of cava. “With my submissives, I was only ever dominant in a scene or when we fucked. Outside of those two environments, I really didn’t mind what they did. Of course, monogamy was expected on both sides unless otherwise arranged and agreed. But as to their day-to-day lives, what they wore, who they associated with…” He shrugged. “It didn’t bother me. With you, I’m different. I want to control everything that you do. I’m trying to get a handle on it—hence my visits to Infierno. I need to validate my self-control. I need to assure myself that I am still the master of self-discipline.” He sat back in his chair, giving her a level look. “The difference is that I care for you, more than I’ve cared for anyone before.”
Makayla’s heart stuttered at his proclamation. She’d been hoping and wishing that he felt something similar for her to what she felt for him. Of course, she hadn’t said it yet. She was still too new to this relationship thing, but Donovan was too. It was time that she shared her feelings with him.
“I care for you too,” she said softly, placing her hand on his on the table. “And, it might sound silly, but I don’t mind your possessiveness and protectiveness. I guess I’ve spent so long caring for my mother that it’s nice to have someone watching out for me.” She dropped her gaze. “I’m not sure if that means that I’m weak, or silly, or naïve”—she looked up—“but it’s how I feel. I like the sense that someone is attentive to my interests. I feel like… I can finally relax.”
Donovan squeezed her hand. “I’m happy to hear you say that, baby, because I can’t seem to help myself where you’re concerned. But I need you to tell me when you think I’m being unreasonable.” He gave her a pointed look. “You know, that’s what a lot of people appreciate about being a submissive. That someone they trust is making the decisions for them. That someone else is taking control.”
The waiter arrived, and with a flourish, placed a steaming pan of paella valenciana between them. The aroma had Makayla’s mouth watering in anticipation.
“This paella is the traditional style, from Valencia. Made with chicken, rabbit, snails and green beans,” Donovan explained as he spooned paella onto her plate.
Makayla took a forkful of the flavored rice and moaned in appreciation. The meat tasted moist and delicious. She hadn’t been convinced about the snails, but they were quite pleasant to eat. “This is very good. The taste reminds me of Spain,” she said in appreciation.
Donovan turned serious. “Makayla, I need you to be very sure that trying the D/s lifestyle is really what you want. You should be aware of what it entails, you have to trust me, and communication between the Dominant and the submissive is extremely important. You have to ensure that you tell me what is too much for you, what you don’t like and what you might be willing to try. Often, it involves a contract detailing rules and stipulations and responsibilities of both parties so there are no gray areas, ensuring that the Dominant and the submissive are well aware of each other’s desires and limitations.”
Makayla put down her fork. “A contract?” she asked incredulously. “Is that really necessary?”
“It’s not essential. Some people prefer to have one in place. As long as you communicate with me and tell me what you’re thinking and feeling, and you’re truthful with me, particularly if we’re involved in a scene, then we could progress without one. We’ll start slowly, of course. I’m not going to overwhelm you, and I won’t take you further than I think you can handle. But you must promise to be communicative and honest with me. If you can’t do that, it won’t work. I will, of course, do the same for you.”
Makayla took a sip of cava and studied Donovan thoughtfully. “I trust you,” she said. “I’d trust you with my life. I know we haven’t known each other for that long, but it’s something instinctual. And I want this. When I stumbled across that website then explored further, something came over me.” Heat rose in her cheeks at the admission. She was still unused to talking about such intimate things, but she supposed she’d have to overcome that reticence very quickly if Donovan needed her to be vocal about these subjects. “I was intrigued and excited about what I saw…” She looked down at the tabletop. “And aroused, and when I saw you dominating that submissive at the club, I was angry and hurt and jealous but also… I wanted to be her.”
She lifted her head and met his gaze, his eyes glimmering hungrily in the candlelight. They stared at each other for a long moment, neither of them acknowledging the waiter clearing their table.
“You’re catching on quickly, baby,” he finally said. “You’re being honest about your feelings and talking to me.”
Makayla smiled then jerked when little vibrations suddenly attacked her nipples. She’d completely forgotten about the necklace, having grown accustomed to the feeling of it beneath her dress. She gulped, her gaze shooting to Donovan’s smirking face.
“Deal with it, angel. Accept the sensations and realize the pleasure,” Donovan ordered.
She breathed deeply and willed herself to still. The tingling grew in intensity, zapping the hard little peaks of her breasts with bursts of sensation. It was as if her nipples were hardwired directly to her clit, and she experienced the feeling low in her belly. She couldn’t help the soft moan that escaped her throat as desire built in her core and moisture pooled between her thighs. She shifted in her seat, squeezing her legs together to try to seek some relief.
“Your nipples are very sensitive,” Donavan murmured. “I like that, that’s good. Stop squirming.”
She stilled again in her seat and took a couple of deep breaths. The sensations swamping her were becoming unbearable. She should have felt embarrassed, having her nipples so thoroughly attacked in public, but she didn’t. She felt naughty and shameless and she sensed her face reddening, but not because of self-consciousness.
“You look so beautiful at the moment, your eyes heavy with desire, your cheeks rosy, plump lips parted with your panting breath. It’s all I can do to stop myself from spreading you out on this table and taking you. Hard.”
Her breath stuttered. She wanted that. She was way past caring about social niceties. In fact, she wouldn’t have cared if Donovan had followed through with his threat.
“Are you wet?” he asked, licking his lips and staring at her nipples.
She nodded. “Yes, Sir.”
He closed his eyes and dropped his head back, fisting his hands on the table. Makayla knew he was working to retain control, and the knowledge that it was she causing him to struggle so hard made her feel powerful and incredibly desirable.
“Good evening. I’m glad to see that you are still with us, Makayla.”
She sat up, her gaze shooting to Fernando, who was suddenly standing by their table.
Fernando looked at her chest and licked his lips. Makayla colored, this time in embarrassment. She glanced down quickly. God, her nipples were like thumbtacks, clearly visible beneath the fabric of her dress and jiggling. Abruptly the vibrations ceased. Makayla looked toward Donovan, who glared daggers in Fernando’s direction.
“I see that… How do you say…? You have kissed and made up?”
Donovan shifted in his seat, effectively shielding Makayla from Fernando’s hungry gaze. “Yes,” he responded stiffly. “Even though you’ve tried your best to keep that from happening.”
Fernando arched an eyebrow. “You are mistaken, Mr. King. I merely assisted a lovely lady in distress. I couldn’t allow her to make her way back to the hotel in such a state. It would have been very remiss of me.”
“And you were there to save the day,” Donovan snarled sarcastically.
Fernando ignored his comment and focused his attention on Mak
ayla. “You are quite well, querida?”
Makayla felt Donovan stiffen beside her. “She is quite well, as you can see, Martínez.”
She cast Donovan a side glance and noted his hard jaw and narrowed eyes. He clearly wasn’t happy with the man.
“Yes, I do see,” Fernando responded with a slight smile. “I’ll leave you to enjoy the remainder of your meal. I hope to see you again soon, señorita.” He gave a small bow and moved to talk to a couple nearby.
The waiter arrived and placed dessert menus in front of them. Donovan picked them up and gave them back to him, addressing the man in rapid Spanish. The waiter nodded and hurried away.
Makayla gave Donovan an enquiring look.
“I asked for something special,” he explained. “It’s not on the menu, but I’ve had it here before, and they’re happy to accommodate their best clients.”
“A surprise, then,” she cried happily. Her thoughts drifted to Fernando as she studied him across the restaurant. “Fernando seems to be here quite a lot.”
“He has rooms here. He shares his time between the hotel and the club,” Donovan said dismissively.
Makayla returned her gaze to Donovan. “I thought he was a friend of yours?”
“He is, to a certain extent,” he muttered. “As you know, we have some things in common and enjoy a similar lifestyle. That’s about the extent of our friendship. We certainly haven’t gone fishing together or to a game. Also, since we’ve arrived he’s shown an…interest in you, which I don’t appreciate. I think he’s harboring a hope that I’ll eventually revert to my old ways and ask you to participate in a threesome.” He grimaced in distaste. “The thought appalls me. I’ll never agree to such a thing with you.”
“What if I wanted to experiment like that?” There I go again, poking the bear.