On the other . . .
She nodded, lungs tightening. “Okay.”
“Good.” With that, he leaned back. The storm in his eyes receded. “Any other questions about that?”
Only a million, but at the moment she was good. She shook her head.
“So that’s been your only experience? Handcuffs? No spankings. Orders. Corrections?”
She took another self-conscious glance around the room, but nobody was listening. Twisting her hands in her lap, she shrugged. “Maybe a little. But none of it ever did that much for me. Not like . . .”
Not like what Dane had done.
The two experiences were hardly recognizable. With that boy, and then, again, later with Jordan . . .
She gritted her teeth. “There was this one fling in college, but that was mostly just messing around. I tried it with my last boyfriend, too. But it felt like . . .” Like he’d been taking something else out on her. Jordan had always been the ladder-climbing sort. The entire time they dated, she’d had some vague idea in the back of her mind that he was with her as much for her position as anything else. He liked her, and he made her feel special, but he also said these things sometimes that made her wonder.
Then, when he’d called things off, right after her family’s fortunes had turned . . . Well. It didn’t exactly take a genius to figure that one out.
“Like?” Dane prompted her.
She hesitated for a second. “Like it wasn’t about the sex.”
Jordan had wanted her influence, but he’d never been entirely okay with her being more powerful than him. The couple of times they’d played around with a bit of rope, she hadn’t liked the way it had gone. She’d felt lesser. Like he was just bossing her around for the fun of it.
While with Dane . . . She shivered, even as warmth spread through her core.
With Dane, it felt like every ounce of his attention was on her. She could let go, because he was there. She didn’t have to put up even more defenses against something being taken from her. For once, she could actually lower them, at least a little.
She was giving something freely and receiving so much more in return.
“And you think what we do is?”
She paused, the epiphany she’d been this close to having evaporating like so much smoke. “Um . . .”
“You know what they say. Everything is about sex, except sex, which is about power. You”—he gestured vaguely at her—“get off on giving it up. I get off on taking it.”
But. But that wasn’t how it felt.
“With . . .” She had to stop herself before she said his name. “. . . the last guy, it felt all wrong, though.”
He shook his head. “It isn’t all the same. You like giving it to someone who will catch you. Take care of you and tell you that you’re good and sweet and perfect.”
Oh. Something in her chest ached. It sounded so juvenile when he put it like that. She didn’t need some simple praise.
And yet every time he’d called her a good girl or told her she was perfect, it had lit her up.
“Some subs like a Dom who’s mean about it, tells them they’re trash. That’s never going to work for you, though.”
“Why?” she croaked. She hated the way the question sounded. Weak and small.
“Because it’s not what you need. It’s my job to figure out what that is, and you scream at me that you need someone to take it all off your shoulders for a while.” Leaning closer across the table, he gazed at her with impassioned eyes. “Doesn’t it feel nice? Not having to make any decisions? Not having to perform? You just do what I tell you to, you make me feel good, and I see to everything else. Give you pleasure when you deserve it, or punish you if you need to be better.”
As if she could have forgotten about that last part. Spankings had never made any kind of sense to her before, but there’d been this freedom in him calling out her mistakes. In being taken to task for them and given a chance to do better.
To be forgiven. Instead of just living with the scar of never, ever being enough.
“But what about my job?”
A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “It’ll make you even better at that. I’d bet you anything.”
How? Day in and day out, she was in charge. Choosing to take orders from someone else, to put herself at their feet—how could that possibly help things?
Her father had taught her to be strong. Not directly, no; his actual training had all been for Rylan. But indirectly, he’d shown her that she had to stand up for herself and fight for what she wanted. If she expected a place at the table, she needed to prove that she could handle it.
Warm fingers settled over hers. Reaching across the table, he commanded her attention.
“It’s okay to give yourself a break, you know.”
“Like a vacation?” Like an escape? That’s what he’d said this was for him.
“Something like that.” He stroked his thumb across her knuckles. “You’re so strong, Lexie. It’s sexy as hell to watch you eviscerate a room full of businessmen. But it’s okay to admit that it wears you out. It’s okay to let yourself put it all down. Let somebody else carry the weight. And when you do? It means you pick it up again even stronger than you were before.”
Oh. Just like that, a certain kind of clarity settled over her. Maybe it was okay. Heavy was the head that wore the crown and all of that.
Constantly being in charge was exhausting. Pretending she was fine, that she didn’t mind the things she’d been given to carry. Maintaining the illusion that she always had everything under control.
With Dane, she got to let that all go. And she felt free.
Watching comprehension dawn on Lexie’s face was like seeing the sun come up over a mountain range. Dane was all but blinded by it, and yet he wouldn’t look away for a second.
“You get it,” he said.
“I might be starting to.”
She’d been speaking in this slightly softer voice all night, but the quiet awe to it now made his throat want to close up. He’d seen her deep in subspace and he’d seen her at her alpha, take-charge worst. But this middle ground was new. Still a little subdued but still herself, too. Only with a few of her sharpest edges rounded off.
They continued talking about some of the technicalities of the lifestyle—safe words and limits. She had a passing familiarity with all of it, but no more. He should have pressed the issue from the start, but they’d fallen into this thing and then kept falling, never finding any time when they weren’t already immersed in it to handle the unsexy details.
In the end, it went more or less the way he’d figured it would. The girl was smart—and so green she had almost no idea what she liked. She had only one limit she knew. And one thing they both knew she secretly needed.
A loss of control.
By the time they’d wrapped up most of that, their food arrived. Dane thanked their server in Spanish, while Lexie looked down at her plate, that same soft flush from when he’d insisted on ordering appearing on her cheeks.
Only once their server had retreated did she meet his gaze again. “What if I’d been allergic to something? Or if I really, really wanted the beef?”
He raised a brow. “A life-threatening allergy is the definition of the right time to use a safe word.”
She managed to look a little chagrined at that.
“They still work,” he pointed out. “If we scene somewhere beyond the bedroom, you still get to use them to tell me you’re not okay.”
“Oh.”
Yeah. He really should have gone into this all before. But there was no way around now but through. “And did you? Really want the beef?” She opened her mouth, but before she could put her answer into words, he stopped her. “More than you wanted me to be in control?”
Her lips snapped closed. He didn’t think so.
Picking up his fork, he shrugged. “It’s all a balance. You let me order for you and you might not get what you think you want. But you’ll g
et something else that you need.”
She seemed to mull that over for a minute as she regarded the salmon in front of her. He had to admit he’d played it safe with that one—it was the kind of thing he’d seen her order out on several occasions. Pretending nonchalance, he cut into his steak, watching her out of the corner of his eye. She brought a bite to her lips and slipped it onto her tongue, then nodded to herself in satisfaction. He breathed out a stealthy sigh of relief.
One victory down. Why not go for broke?
“You should let me order for you all day tomorrow.”
Her fork made a screeching sound against her plate. “Excuse me?”
“You like it in the bedroom. You seem to like it outside of sex, too. So try it.”
Most of his arrangements of late had only lasted one night. Longer scenes weren’t usually a staple of his repertoire, but with the right girl, in the right circumstances . . .
Just like that, he was on the edge of his seat, aching for her to say yes. Their whole time together in Spain had been so ad hoc. He’d been restless in his soul. A full day of leading her around, making all the calls . . . Of watching her. Getting to see her sink deeper and deeper into the kind of submission that would make her glow.
He wanted it. Wanted it the way he wanted her scent and her taste and her legs wrapped snug around his hips. He wanted it like he wanted things he never got to have and had long forgotten how to even ask for.
He needed it like air.
Pitching his voice even deeper, he leaned in. “Let me have you for a day. You’ll be mine—to fuck or to show off around town. No decisions, no pressure, no work. Just you and me and the best fucking day of your life. What do you say?”
For a moment that stretched on and on, she stared at him. He kept his gaze even and firm—a mess of desire inside but all resolve without. If she was going to buy into this, she had to believe in him absolutely. Under his collar, he started to sweat.
Finally, she licked her lips and nodded. “If I don’t like it, safe words work.”
“Always.” Relief swelled over him. He had her.
“Well, then.” She met his gaze again, and it wasn’t demure. This was the Lexie he’d met in a high-rise office. That very first day, she’d set aside his résumé and raked his body up and down. She’d known what she wanted and she’d taken it. She licked her lips. “Okay.”
chapter SIXTEEN
Lexie came awake the way she always did: sharply and honestly less than pleasantly. Refusing to open her eyes, she rolled away from the light rudely pouring in on her, tugging the duvet higher around her ears.
Ugh. Okay, first she needed coffee. Then her laptop and the morning reports and maybe the news and—
The sound of china clinking had her lurching up with a start. Dane sat in the chair in the corner of the room. He had a room service tray on the table beside him, complete with an entire pot of coffee, two mugs, and what smelled unmistakably like bacon. Her mouth watered, but it still took her a second to focus. For her head to clear.
Because that wasn’t just Dane, her competent and ruthlessly loyal assistant sitting there. It was Dane, her . . . well, Dom, apparently. The difference was subtle but unmistakable. He held himself differently, though, and a dark intensity colored his eyes.
A little shiver coursed through her as the full power of his gaze settled on her.
All at once, her laundry list of things she needed to do flew out of her mind. A harder shudder racked her, settling into the cradle of her hips and the full, piqued tips of her breasts.
She didn’t have to do anything. No work waited for her today. It was Sunday, and she wasn’t going to church.
She was going to sin. Here, with this man.
All day.
Voice gravelly, Dane pointed at the spot of carpet at his feet. “Come here.”
The space between her thighs went hotter. There weren’t going to be any niceties or preliminaries, then. No checking in to make sure she hadn’t changed her mind.
In any other circumstance, that would have grated on her, but here, now, it pushed her straight into that soft, warm place in her mind. She had her safe words and she knew how to use them. Until she had a reason to, though, she’d turn the reins over to him. All she had to do was give in, and he’d take care of her.
He’d talked about jumping off mountains before. About free fall and the enormousness of the sky. Sliding off the edge of the bed, she felt like she was falling just that far, like the ribbon of her ribs was unraveling and she could breathe.
She was dressed in just a nightshirt. As she dropped to her knees at his feet, the plush pile of the carpet scratched at her naked calves, every bit of texture and stimulus turned up to eleven. Once she was within reach, he put his hand on her head and tugged it toward his knee. She let her cheek rest on the denim and gazed at him adoringly. She didn’t even know how much of what she felt played out across her face, but all her instincts to hide or to guard her thoughts had slipped beneath the surface. Far off, under water, too deep for her to concern herself with.
“Good girl.” His voice reverberated through her body, rough and deep. He petted her hair, and she melted.
Why had she never let anyone do this for her before? How the hell had she never known?
Eyes practically glowing, he gazed down at her, throat bobbing. “Hungry, kitten?”
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good.”
In a haze, she let him feed her bits and pieces of the breakfast he had ordered. Measured, careful sips out of the little cup of coffee, doctored with just the right amount of cream and sugar. Crisp, salty morsels of bacon and nibbles of toast. Fluffy bits of eggs perched on the tip of a fork that he brought to her lips, and nothing in her life had ever tasted so good.
The whole time, his free hand played with her hair or stroked down her cheek. Over her throat and just under the collar of her shirt, making her breasts even heavier for want of his touch, her pussy slicker. She leaned into his hand, practically rubbing against his leg, her whole body thrumming as he continued his quiet litany of praise. “That’s it. I love it when you’re sweet for me.”
Eventually, he decided she’d had enough. He set the fork down on the plate that they’d been sharing and brought his fingers to her lips. She parted them as he brushed across the damp flesh, and she clenched deep inside.
This day of submission he had asked her for—he’d said it was about more than sex. That she liked giving up control to him outside the bedroom as well as in it. But from their first time together on the plane, it had started with the crashing together of their bodies, and she couldn’t seem to divorce the two. However long she’d spent at his feet, eating what he told her to and letting herself be pliable and easy . . . it had all sent her desire spiraling, her need aching.
Ever so slowly, he dragged his fingertip across her tongue. “Are you hungry for anything else?”
God, yes. Finally. She nodded eagerly, mouth watering as he brought his hand to the waistband of his jeans.
When he pulled himself out, the molten heat between her thighs went nuclear. She practically panted at the sight of his hard cock, exposed and huge and jutting from his hips. She leaned in, lips parted, only for his hand at her shoulder to hold her back.
“Slow. Nice and soft, with lots of tongue.”
Slow? Was he insane? This entire bit of breakfast theater had read like foreplay, and now he wanted her to take it slow?
He raised a brow. “You have a problem with that?”
Just the slightest hint of rebuke colored his tone, but it might as well have been a slap across her face. Shame twisted up her insides. Because he was in charge here. She didn’t have to think, but she didn’t get to, either. She just had to please him, and the idea of doing this wrong, of making him unhappy, hurt her heart.
“Shh, shh, you’re fine.” He threaded careful fingers through her hair, sweeping the locks from her face. “Easy, then.” He nodded, and it was her signal to go ahead.
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Curling her hands into fists at her sides, she leaned in. Slow, just how he’d asked her to. The sharp pang of arousal in her body started to ease once she had him on her tongue, and she moaned. It was like the carpet and the coffee and the roughness of his fingertips, the taste of him eclipsing everything, blocking it out until there was only him.
“Mmm.” He hummed, shifting his hips to let a little more of him slide into her mouth. “Yeah, just like that. Your mouth is so gorgeous like this. Love it wrapped around my cock.”
She loved it, too. The hot, firm flesh stretching her lips, and she wanted more, wanted to hear him groan and feel him thrust against the back of her throat. Wanted to swallow him down.
But no. Slow. Closing her eyes, she made her mouth soft, the way he’d asked her to. Let it be wet as she held him there.
Oh, and there was that groan.
“Someday”—his hand tightened in her hair—“I want to play at work. Get you under your desk and have you just hold my cock on your tongue. Keep it hard, not even move. Just a hot little cockwarmer hidden at my feet. Would you like that, beautiful?”
She didn’t even know. It sounded so wrong and so right, and she couldn’t think.
“Yeah, I bet you’d love it. Do it after hours so no one would know.”
She liked that better. Her shoulders relaxed, and she swept the soft pad of her tongue across his crown.
“Suck,” he ordered, brushing his thumb against her cheek.
She did, pulling him deeper.
“A little faster now.” His breathing sped as she complied. “Going to come in you so many times today. In your mouth and in that sweet little cunt. Does that sound good to you?”
She hummed, nodding the best she could. He pushed his hips into her mouth, tugging harder at her hair, setting a pace that was slower than she would have picked, but it had the flesh between her lips throbbing, the first slick hints of his impending release coating her tongue.
“Lex, Lex, baby—”
He went silent as he came, and she drank it down. The ache in her pussy flared until it was a full-body glow, her every nerve on fire, and it would only take a touch, she was so close. She whined, sucking harder until he pulled her off, panting as he pressed her face against his leg.
Nine Kinds of Naughty Page 17