Nine Kinds of Naughty

by Jeanette Grey

  And then the wet throb of her pussy became a part of the performance. Dane played her like an instrument, cranking the intensity as the sounds of stomping feet and clapping hands and soaring voices grew. Until it was as if she were a part of the performance.

  The music hit a crescendo, the frenzy of the dancer’s movements reaching a peak that shook the floorboards and echoed through Lexie’s bones, and the vibrator revved up to a pounding beat. She only barely caught herself when he kissed her ear, palm going hard against her belly, because God, shit, she wasn’t supposed to come unless he let her. The music was thunder and her clit was lightning, and she was right there, so close, nothing holding her together but his will . . .

  And then all at once, it faded. The music diminished, and the woman’s feet slowed, everything in her contracting until she was stillness and silence again. Only the most subtle shifts to show the beat lived inside her even as it withdrew.

  And it was just like that inside Lexie’s body. The vibrations dimmed to almost nothing, but the thrill pulsed on, the edge of pleasure not gone—oh no. Just hidden.

  “Do you see it?” Dane asked. His voice was so low, hardly a rumble in Lexie’s ear. “Do you feel it?”

  She bit down on her tongue to suppress a moan. She had no idea what he meant, but she nodded all the same.

  “We’ve only barely scratched the surface of what submission means to you, but it’s like the dance. It’s like the music.”

  “Yes . . .”

  It didn’t make any sense, and it made all the sense in the world.

  “People think submission is all about the hard work. The rough fuck.” The sharp twist to the word shivered straight through to her toes. “And it’s there, all right, but it breathes in the quiet moments. The spaces in between.”

  It was clarity and light. It was the bleeding roar of orgasm transcending sex, going to stillness and this place beyond that physical need.

  It was deeper.

  He rasped his lips against her ear. “That’s where your submission will find its soul. You’re dying to serve, but it’s not just the work of it. Sucking me off or taking a spanking. It’s in the waiting.”

  His hand skated up her chest to rest against her brilliant heart. Tucking his thumb into the black leather line of the collar around her throat, he leaned in even closer. Her eyes rolled back in her head as the hard ridge of his cock ground against her ass.

  “It’s knowing you belong to me.”

  The truth of it poured into her, seeping someplace far beneath her skin.

  It was what she’d needed. All the years of waiting for people to leave, she’d thought she wanted to be independent. To not care, so she couldn’t be hurt anymore.

  But it had been this. Giving herself to another person, trusting him with her every thought. With her body and her mind and her needs. Even if it was just for a little while.

  It didn’t make her less strong.

  It made her free.

  chapter NINETEEN

  The rush of power was a heady fucking thing. In the hotel elevator, it took every scrap of will Dane had not to abuse it.

  He’d never seen someone so far under.

  He licked his lips and adjusted himself in his pants. The first time he’d fucked Lexie, he’d had this vision of her on her knees, finally letting go of the tension and the burden of always being on, always being in charge. But the idea that she could go this deep was beyond his wildest dreams.

  Fuck. She actually glowed.

  Standing beside him as the elevator rose, she smiled like he had never seen before. She was pliant and sweet, doing exactly as he asked.

  The rush of it filled him all over again. All he’d have to do would be to reach out a hand and hit the emergency stop. Tell her to get on her goddamn knees, and she would go. She’d suck him off right here and now, forget the security cameras, forget her precious reputation she’d been so concerned about at the beginning. Forget everything. She was there.

  He couldn’t exactly put his finger on it, but partway through the flamenco performance, while he’d whispered dirty nothings about the nature of submission, her entire body had gone lax, her posture easy. She’d been light, exhaling the way she did when she kicked off her heels at the end of the day, except the shoes he’d put her in that morning had still been firmly planted on her feet.

  He took a deep breath. She was there because she trusted him. She believed that he would take care of her, and part of his role here was to live up to that trust.

  The minute he got her behind closed doors, though . . .

  The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. Grabbing her by the arm, he hauled her along with him out and down the hallway. She followed happily, that goofy smile still planted firmly on her lips. Until, outside his room, she paused, confusion furrowing her brow. “This isn’t my suite.”

  “No. It’s mine.”

  He got the door open and held it for her. Closing it behind them, he flipped the switch for the one small lamp in the corner of the room, leaving the space dim but with enough light to be able to see.

  He hadn’t spent much time here in the past couple of days. He’d ducked in to shower or change, but they’d been sleeping in her suite, and it wasn’t hard to tell why. His space wasn’t cramped by any means—it was a nice hotel, and Bellamy employees traveled in style. But it was just the one room, no kitchenette or living area.

  It did have one or two advantages, though.

  Stepping into her space, he grazed his knuckles down the side of her cheek to her jaw, reveling in her tremor. “Do you know why I brought you here?”

  “N-no.”

  “It’s because it’s where I keep the rest of my toys.”

  Things he’d thought himself hopelessly optimistic to have even packed. At the time, he hadn’t known if he’d get so much as a single night off. But there were always clubs, and without any chance of leaving the city, he’d known he’d need an escape.

  Oh, but if he’d had any idea how this trip would really go . . .

  He grasped her chin between his forefinger and his thumb. “Do you trust me?”

  “Yes, Sir.” She didn’t hesitate, and what a change that was from when they’d started. Power surged like gold in his veins.

  “You’ve been such a good girl today, gorgeous.”

  He flexed his jaw, because she had. Not once had she brought up work. She’d checked her phone exactly twice—before each meal, when he’d given her permission to, and she hadn’t dallied with it either. She’d relaxed in a way he’d never imagined she could, and tonight he was going to show her just how proud he was.

  Dropping his hand to the center of her chest, he circled her, dragging the tip of his finger over her body as he went. “I’m going to make you feel so good tonight. Do you want to know how?”

  She sucked in a stuttering breath. “Only if you want to tell me, Sir.”

  “Such a good girl.” Jesus. How did she know exactly what to say? He leaned in closer, putting his lips beside her ear. “You have no idea how much you please me.”

  Her chest puffed up, and she was putty in his hand.

  “I’m going to put you on this bed.” At the hitch in her voice, he scolded himself. “I’m not going to tie you down, but you’re going to hold yourself in place. Restrained by your own gorgeous, stubborn will.”

  Someday, by God, he’d get her past that fear. He respected a hard limit. But if he could give her just a taste of what it might be like . . .

  He swallowed, letting the wet sound of it float to her ear. “Then I’m going to work you over. I’ve punished you with spankings before, but you’ll cry for my crop, it’ll make you feel so good.”

  He’d been dying to see how she’d respond to softer, sensual impacts. If he hadn’t already been hard and aching, he would be now, just from the thought of the noises she might make. The warm, glowing red her skin would turn.

  Scraping his teeth against her lobe, he skated his hand down the length of her
side. “But I won’t let you come.”

  She whined, high and loud.

  “Not until I’m in you,” he said. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, kitten, and you’re going to thank me. By the end you’re going to beg me.”

  She sagged against him. “And if I beg you now?”

  He snapped his teeth. “Well, that would be delicious. But it won’t get you off any faster.” Stepping away, he pulled his hand back, then let it fall with a smack against her ass. “Now get on the bed.”

  Just that tiny slap on her rear had Lexie’s skin tingling. Nothing Dane promised had been entirely new, but she felt new. The whole world did.

  With this humming static in her limbs, she made her way to the bed. He hadn’t told her to strip, so she dropped down onto it fully clothed, still in her shoes. He coaxed her to lie back, and it was like she floated on a cloud, spread out on his sheets, surrounded by his scent.

  Shedding his jacket, he stalked across the room and flung open the suitcase on the luggage rack in the corner. A couple of folded items of clothes tumbled to the floor as he rooted through it.

  The first thing he came up with was a pair of handcuffs.

  Her breathing went tight, the same squirrelly feeling she’d had the first time he’d introduced her to this world. She flexed her wrists and ankles, a shiver of unease threatening the warm, safe place in her mind where she’d been wrapped up.

  But before it could shatter, he caught her eye and held it as he tucked them away. She melted back down into the bed.

  The next thing he pulled out was a handful of fabric, but even that couldn’t pierce her bubble.

  The riding crop got her attention, though.

  She swallowed, throat suddenly parched. He’d said he’d work her over with one of those, but seeing it in his hands was something different. The world went in and out of focus for a moment. When it resolved again, he stood before her, his broad, powerful chest rising and falling with his breath, jaw sharp, all his height looming over her, and a thrill swam through her body, suffusing her with heat.

  He knelt on the bed, then carefully set his tools down. It was like they had their own gravity, their presence a weight tugging at her spine.

  Both his hands hit the mattress, one to either side of her head. The impact pulled her back to him, recentering her. The things he’d brought to use on her body slipped away until it was only him—nothing else to worry about.

  She sank even deeper as he threaded his fingers through her hair. His mouth met hers in a hot, claiming kiss, teeth sharp against her lip, tongue boldly seeking, and she let him in. He kissed her like that for what felt like ages, and she relaxed more with every stroke, every heavy pass of his palm along her side until he cupped her breast. She moaned against his breath, arching into the touch.

  Her skin came alive all at once, and just like that she was dying to be naked. He hadn’t turned the vibrator on since they’d left the show, but it was still right there, every motion of her body nudging it harder against her clit. She huffed out a frustrated breath, only for him to take a rebuking nip at her lip. It zinged through her, her pussy going hotter and slick.

  He moaned, releasing her mouth to kiss a wet line from her jaw down her throat, lower toward her breasts where he tugged the neckline of her top down, taking the cup of her bra with it. She gasped at the harsh rush of cold air on her skin, cut off midbreath when his mouth descended on her. The hot, biting suction around her nipple turned her inside out, and then his knee planted between her thighs, giving her something to press against. The fire inside her, at a simmer all day, burst in licks of heat across her spine.

  Peeling her hands from the bed, she wrapped them around his shoulders, slipping one beneath the collar of his shirt and digging in with her nails.

  He tore away from her breast, and she whined. No, God, that was the exact opposite of what she’d wanted. She dropped her hand, the inferno receding.

  But his eyes sparkled. “Kitten’s got claws.”

  With that, he lifted his leg from between hers, hooked a hand under her hip. She landed on her front, the air forced out of her lungs by the impact. Shit, what a picture she must make. Her hair had flopped in her face, the loose strands tangling around her, and her tit was still hanging out, even pressed to the mattress as she was. Skirt half rucked up, she reached to get it, but his hands surrounded her wrists, warm manacles that didn’t inspire panic as he pinned her arms to the bed.

  Craning her neck, she gazed up at him with pleading eyes. No mercy stared back at her.

  He leaned in closer, breath washing hot across her face. “Do you remember what I said? Your submission . . .”

  She remembered every word, and the reminder made her tense, her breasts and pussy aching, even as she settled down. A stillness fell over her.

  “That’s right.” Releasing one hand, he caressed the dip of her waist, as if he were gentling a skittish horse. His breath came hard. “It’s in the quiet moments, too. And this is one of them.”

  Placing one too-gentle kiss against the base of her neck, he pulled away, leaving her alone and floating, but okay somehow. She was fine. She was doing what he wanted; there was nothing she needed to worry about—nothing she had to do or be.

  “Good,” he murmured, brushing a hand down the back of her thigh.

  She sucked in a breath as he drifted higher, dropping her cheek to rest against the mattress and closing her eyes. His fingers tucked into the waistband of her skirt. He lowered the zip, and her lungs stuttered as he peeled it off. Her panties followed, and then she was naked from the waist down, the vibrator falling away with nothing to hold it to her flesh. He picked it up and set it aside, then shoved her legs apart, putting her pussy on display.

  The heat of his gaze was a whole separate kind of pressure moving over her. She clenched inside, everything too warm and achy between her thighs. In the pit of her belly and in her breasts.

  When he slipped clinical fingers over her, she flinched. She fought to keep that reaction down, not to push into his touch, even though it was all she wanted, was what she needed. He spread her wetness around, and she held her breath, pleasure surging through her at the soft swipe over her clit, the bare nudge just inside.

  Only for him to retreat, his hand disappearing from her skin.

  “Color?”

  She blinked, lost to it all, too focused on the places he’d just been touching. Her vision swam, but there was something she needed to do, to say.

  “. . . Lex?”

  “Green.”

  “Good”—his open palm came down across her ass, the lightest swat, but it set her skin on fire—“girl.” The second smack jolted her forward and made her come alive. Yes, this was what she needed. He’d promised her this, and now he’d deliver. “I’m going to help you stay still, okay, baby?”

  She nodded, her concerns too far away and floating. She lay there as he moved around her. Then he grasped her palm and pressed a slip of fabric into it.

  In a fog, she lifted her head. “Oh.”

  Silk scarves. That was what he’d pulled from his suitcase. He’d tied two of them to the top corners of the headboard, and now he was handing her the ends. She took them, confused.

  Closing her fingers around the fabric, he kissed the knuckles of each hand in turn. “Hold on to those. Don’t let go.”

  Oh. Being tied down was still a limit, and he hadn’t pressed her on it. But this . . . wasn’t quite that. She was in control, at the same time that she was bending to his.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He was gone again then, heading toward the foot of the bed. He yanked her feet even farther apart. To keep herself in place, she gripped hard at the scarves, grinding her hips against the mattress. She grunted at the maddening not-quite pressure just exactly where she would have needed it.

  At the first touch to her ankle, she twisted to try to see. He’d looped the scarves around the footboard. He slipped her foot into the opening but didn’t twist or tighten.

>   “See if you can get free.”

  She had to calm the jackrabbit rhythm of her heart. Focusing, she bent at the knee, and her foot came loose.

  “Good.” He put her right back where he’d had her, repeating it all on the other side. “Now don’t.”

  Oh God. It was a nightmare and a fantasy—spread-eagle on this man’s bed, at his mercy. Tied down but also . . . not.

  A warm, liquid sort of a feeling swam through her. Lifted her up and embraced her. This was . . .

  This was trust. It was safety.

  She could never have done it for anybody else.

  It was the kind of thought that would have alarmed her or had her shaking free of her bonds, but here, in this space, it drifted into her mind and then peacefully, quietly away.

  It was driven even further by the touch of leather to her skin.

  He dragged the tip of the crop from her knee toward her rear. “Have you ever played with one of these before?”

  “N-no.”

  It ghosted down the back of her other leg before disappearing. She shivered, anticipation building inside her.

  She moaned when it returned between her thighs. He traced the length of her slit, over slick, swollen flesh. Oh fuck, what if he hit her there? She couldn’t—he wouldn’t—

  The heat of his hand cupped her calf. “Remember, princess. This isn’t punishment.”

  Right. She flexed her shoulders and her hips, repositioning her grip on the scarves where they had started to slip. Blowing out a long breath, she tried to relax. He stroked his way up her thigh before letting go, until the loss of that contact had her stiffening all over again.

  And he noticed. Of course he did. He was so attentive, so good to her even when he was driving her out of her head. Shifting, he came to straddle her just below her knees, the denim of his jeans scratchy, but she didn’t care. It grounded her, reminded her that he was there.

  “That’s it,” he murmured. “I think you’re going to like this.”

  Then that was all she needed.

  “But if you don’t . . .”

  She heard the leading nature of the statement. Why were words so difficult? Finally, she found the one she wanted. “Colors.”