A stoplight, and right here, right now, she was the most brilliant, vibrant green.
“Good . . .”
The stillness and the silence hung and hung. The only way to mark the passage of time were the ragged sounds of their breaths and the galloping pace of her heart. Both went dull in her ears, lost to some soft, quiet place.
Lost to the deep, probing power of his voice. “Take it, sweetheart. Take it for me.”
The first slap of the crop against her ass was barely more than a whisper. Her eyes snapped open just in time for the second one to strike with the same intensity. A half dozen more rained down in quick succession until it was a blur, and it was only when he paused that she felt the bloom of heat, little pinpricks of sensation left behind.
Answered immediately with a rush of slickness flooding her pussy, the ache there building, her breasts tingling.
His breath came hard. “Color?”
“Green, green—”
She barely got the second one out before another, sharper strike landed at the top of her thigh, and she yelped. Shit, that one stung. The next was just as bad, but the licking curls of warmth that followed were better, and she clenched inside, unbearably empty.
Tilting her hips, she moaned. He kept going, laying down a pattern across the backs of her thighs and the flesh of her ass. She wished that she could see—oh God, would he leave marks?
He was panting, and so was she. The blows kept coming, faster now, until she was lost to it.
“It’s Monday tomorrow, you know. Every time you sit down at that desk, you’ll feel me. Send me to fetch your coffee and you’ll remember what you let me do to you, what you begged me for.”
“Yes, yes.” What was even coming out of her mouth? She couldn’t think, not about work or tomorrow or how she’d sit at the conference table and treat him like she always did.
Rely on him and lean on him. Depend on him.
She twisted her limbs in the scarves, grasping for anything to hold on to against the sweet bite of his crop, until she didn’t even know if she could shake herself free, and it didn’t matter. She didn’t want to be free. She wanted to be here, taking his spanking and his cock, his orders and his soft, kind eyes, his voice in her ear telling her who she was beneath her suits and her title and her makeup.
She wanted to be his.
“Yellow.” The word fell out of her mouth on a gasp.
He stopped on a dime. She couldn’t open her eyes or twist around. Didn’t even know why she’d said what she had. The intensity had all just crashed over her at once, and it had been too much.
Yellow was supposed to mean slow down, but she’d never used any word except green before, so apparently he wasn’t messing around. The crop hit the mattress beside her, and then his hands were all over her, sweeping beneath the fabric of the top she still had on, brushing her hair out of her face. He kissed her everywhere, gentle—yet somehow frantic—presses of lips to her cheek and temple and neck.
“Talk to me, beautiful.”
“I just—” Just what? “It got really intense, and I need—I need—”
Shit, she never had any trouble telling people what she wanted from them in the rest of her life. Why was she suddenly so lost?
He gave her space and time, but after a moment, he asked, “Do you want me far away or close?”
Choices. The man was a genius. She could make choices.
“Close. So close.”
That was all he needed to hear. In an instant, he had her ankles free, the scarves tugged loose from her hands, and he flipped her over. She landed on her back to find him hovering over her, his face taking up her entire field of vision. Everything else was blocked out by his bulk, so there was only him, and she could breathe.
The lines in his brow went easier. “That’s it. That’s what you needed, wasn’t it?”
All she could do was nod.
Because yes, she’d needed him near, needed to be reminded that she was falling into something too deep with him. But that maybe she wasn’t alone in it.
With her hands released, she reached one up, tentative as she moved to touch his face. He leaned into it, kissing her palm.
And then kissing her. It was a relief to sink into that. His mouth moved with confidence against hers, and she felt all over again that he was in control and yet that everything he did was for her.
Cupping her cheek, he slowed the kiss, trailing off with soft pecks to each corner of her mouth.
“Do you want to stop entirely?”
She bit her lip, then shook her head. No, that wasn’t what she wanted at all.
“All right, that’s fine. That’s perfect.”
He claimed her mouth, and on some level, it wasn’t that different from kisses she’d shared with anyone else—except it was. The hot weight of his command still pinned her, and now that she wasn’t panicking, she was right back in that soft, golden place he always brought her to. She fell into the kiss and the closeness of him, and everything was fine again. Everything was exactly how she wanted it.
At some point, he must have taken his shirt off. She skated her hand down his neck and over miles of hot, smooth skin, right to the waistband of his jeans, and weren’t they just a pair? Her naked on the bottom and him on the top? With every pass of his palm along her side, he rucked her shirt higher. When she arched into the touch, he urged her up so he could pull the fabric off. Her bra followed.
The glide of his chest against hers set off a new round of sparks, her nipples hardening. Nude, she wrapped her legs around his hips, dragging him in.
But he shook his head, tutting her. “Greedy.”
How could she possibly be anything else?
With a slap to her thigh, he disengaged, and she just about went out of her skin. The crop had left her rear and the backs of her legs achy and hot, and even that tiny impact at the very edge of where he’d spanked her spread licks of fire across her flank.
And just about everywhere else.
Moaning, she uncurled her legs, but she lifted her hips, eager for more of him, for the grind of his cock against her needy clit, his hand on her flesh.
“Liked that, did we?”
“Mm-hmm, oh—” Her squeak of approval got cut off when he scratched across the back of her thigh, and her insides clenched.
Shit, it hurt and it felt amazing—like being alive. And like she was so fucking empty she could cry.
“Please,” she babbled, “please, please . . .”
“Shh, sweet girl, tell your daddy what you need.”
Oh Jesus. “Fuck me, Sir, like you promised, you said, I need—”
He shhed her again, dragging the rough, callused pads of his fingers over her ass and making her burn. “I am going to take such good care of you, beautiful. Don’t you worry. Gonna give you exactly what you need.”
And she didn’t doubt it. Even as desperate tears leaked from her eyes, her chest cracking with everything she felt in that moment, she knew . . . He’d take care of her. He always would.
Drawing away, he kissed the dampness from each of her cheeks in turn, then grasped her hands in his. He brought them above her head again. When the silk of the scarves brushed her knuckles, she didn’t have to wait for instructions. She held on tight, and they were an anchor. Just like he was, keeping her from floating off into some irretrievable space.
He drew away to sit on his haunches between her spread legs. He dug in his pocket until he found a condom. She licked her lips as he undid his belt and his jeans, shoving them to his knees. His cock was wet at the tip, and she shifted restlessly, slick all down her thighs with wanting him. Holding her gaze, he rolled the condom on, a pained sound of need passing his lips as he gave his covered cock one quick, rough stroke.
He fell over her again, and she arched. One of his hands landed beside her head, while the other slipped between them. His fingertips on swollen flesh were a shock of pleasure after so much denial. He slid them up and down the length of her opening, a glancing
brush against her clit, as if he were only checking she was really ready to get fucked, and then they were gone, but it didn’t matter.
The blunt head of him pressed against her, and her eyes went blurry, her chest and pussy and breasts all aching. Her heart bursting.
“Who do you belong to?” he asked.
And he couldn’t have possibly meant it the way she heard it. They hadn’t spoken about what they were beyond a dominant and a submissive. A corporate shark and her assistant.
A man and a woman.
But it meant so much when the words fell from her lips. “You. I’m yours.”
And then there wasn’t any room to doubt. He filled her in one stroke, the sudden fullness punching the breath clear from her lungs. Her hands seized on the scarves, and she couldn’t get enough air, but she didn’t need it.
Resting his weight in his knees, he picked up her legs as he drove into her. Hot palms stroked all down the backs of her thighs and over her ass, and she screamed.
“Remember who put these here.” He scraped over the bruises again. “Remember it tomorrow, every time you sit. Every time this pretty pussy twinges and this ass scrapes. You’re gonna look at me.”
She always looked at him.
“Tell me.” He was outright pounding her now, muscles corded and bunching, hips pistoning. Every slamming thrust hit her just right. If she could only get a tiny bit more pressure on her clit—
Oh shit—did she even need that? He scraped blunt nails over the sorest part of her ass, and it was on a live wire to the center of the orgasm ready to pull her under. She tensed, moving into it, pushing upward with her hips . . .
“Tell me.” He scratched the welts again. “Who does this to you?”
As if it had ever been in doubt.
“You, Dane, shit, Sir, you—”
Her voice broke into a cry as he slammed in deep and stayed there, grinding hard, and she was so full. Everything hurt, and it felt so good, she felt—she felt—
Perfect.
“Sir—”
“Now, gorgeous, come now, come on my cock—”
It all crested over in a heartbeat. Clinging to the scarves and hooking her feet behind his ass, she shattered. She was shards and glittering glass, and she was whole. Held.
Loved.
She landed again with a sob, aftershocks still rocking her body nearly as brutally as his thrusts. He kept going, on and on, and she took it, until finally, with a grunt, he buried himself and stilled.
He half collapsed over her, meeting her mouth in a sloppy, brilliant kiss.
But it wasn’t quite the same. A part of her was floating, while another part had moved on.
She’d let him in so deep today. Out in the city, they’d acted like a couple, and then here in his room, she’d begged him to treat her like a whore. Tomorrow they’d return to their day-to-day, handling the business of her family’s company. He’d treat her like his boss, because she was both.
He was both. Her dominant, her lover, her employee and her partner in the work that fueled her days—he was everything. Suddenly, that was what she wanted him to be. She needed him by her side, here in this bed and out there in this world, because she—she—
She loved him.
Her head spun, and she clenched her eyes shut tight. He was still inside her. Still oblivious.
But she was more fucked than she had ever been before.
chapter TWENTY
“All right.” Lexie flipped her tablet closed and pushed back from the conference table. “I think we may be onto something here.”
“Agreed.” Miranda mirrored her position. “I’ll run it by my people this afternoon.”
“And I’ll be in touch with my home office as well.”
Smoothing out her skirt, she stood, holding out her hand. Miranda took it and gave it two hearty pumps before turning to his assistant.
Meeting adjourned then. With a satisfied if tired sigh, Lexie looked to Dane. He’d already slipped into her space and started gathering her things, same as he always did at the end of a meeting.
That said, it wasn’t exactly the same. He had a bit more of a spring in his step than he usually did on Monday mornings, his chest puffed out to the point she kind of wanted to roll her eyes at him. But not as much as she wanted to jump him. A shiver hummed through her, but she pushed that impulse down, grabbing her phone and scrolling through the alerts that had started to trickle in during the meeting.
It was still awfully early, New York time, but the first sets of reports for the week were waiting for her. Good. That’d be something to do while Miranda was checking in with his people.
It had been a good morning. A productive morning.
Unusually good, honestly.
That gave her pause. Part of why she’d been so hesitant to start anything with Dane was her fear that it would change things. That fear had been unfounded—at least on his end. He treated her just as respectfully as ever, did his job as efficiently.
But she . . . She was different. She’d been on fire today.
She glanced at Dane out of the corner of her eye.
Maybe there was something to his whole taking the weekends off thing. Maybe what she’d really needed, instead of working harder, was to find some time for herself. To let go for a little while. So she could come back stronger.
Her heart fluttered as her revelation from the night before returned to her. The idea still made her nervous—especially after how things had gone down with Jordan—but maybe she needed Dane. He’d promised that what happened between them in the bedroom wouldn’t affect them at work. But it had, only in a way she hadn’t seen coming. A wonderful way.
A way she still wasn’t entirely ready to examine too closely yet.
She rose from her chair, then turned to him to accept her bag. She gestured toward the door. “If you need me, I’ll be in my office. No disruptions for say . . . the next hour or so, though. Need to check in with New York.”
He gave a nod of acknowledgment and a panty-melting smile that almost had her reconsidering her plan for the rest of the morning. But no. She had work to do.
Back in her office, she locked herself in, then ever so gingerly, she lowered herself into her chair. Oof. Dane hadn’t been kidding last night about her feeling it today. She was deliciously sore, even with the cream he’d insisted in rubbing all over her abused skin. It hurt, and it was amazing.
And it made her really, really eager to see what he might have in store for her tonight.
Putting that thought aside, she pulled out her phone again, double-checked the time difference, and placed the call to Rylan.
He answered on the second ring. “Sister, dearest. I was starting to worry you’d been kidnapped.”
“Whatever.” They’d talked on Friday, for fuck’s sake. “Weren’t you the one saying you wanted to be off the clock more on the weekends?”
Apparently, it was the only time both he and Kate could get away.
“I might have said it, but I never expected you to honor my wishes.”
She frowned at that. She pushed him when he needed it, but not honoring his wishes was taking it a little far.
Right?
Oblivious to her line of thought, he moved on, and though she was still disquieted, she followed along. Without anyone else there to interrupt, they managed to conduct their usual Monday morning status meeting in record time.
Leaving them with just one topic still unaddressed.
“So,” Rylan said. “How’re things in Barcelona? Get anything finalized over the weekend?”
She paused. “No, actually.”
Dead silence reigned for a long minute. Finally, he cleared his throat. “Nothing?”
She aimed her tone at breezy but probably missed by a mile. “It’s not a weekend working kind of country.” She chuckled, rolling her eyes at herself. “Believe me, I learned that the hard way.”
“Is that right?”
It was. She’d been a fool not to realize it
earlier. How many seminars had she attended in her MBA program about corporate culture? About how respecting it was key to getting any job done? You could shape it and gradually change it over time. But a stranger walking into an established business and pretending they knew better ran into a wall.
She could still feel the metaphorical impact of running into this one face-first. Already, she was seeing the benefits of a lighter hand. People were more amenable to her ideas, more willing to work with her.
And it was all thanks to Dane.
“Yeah,” she said, reaching for her water and taking a long sip to quench the sudden dryness in her throat. “It was for the best anyway. We came back to the table this morning with a whole new energy. I think we’re really making some progress now.”
She took a minute to brief him on the latest terms they’d been negotiating. Rylan mm-hmmed his way through most of it, only asking for clarification at a couple of points.
As she trailed off, Rylan spoke up again. “Brass tacks, Lex. Do you think you can close this one?”
A funny, twisting feeling fired off in her gut. The day she’d proposed the idea for the acquisition, Rylan had supported her unequivocally, and in that moment, it had meant the world. He’d had faith in her.
Was that faith waning?
“I told you before I left.” She straightened in her seat. “I can and I will.”
“All right, all right. Just. The clock is ticking, you know. How much more time and resources are we prepared to expend?”
Her eyebrows rose. “You’re the one who told me to stay until I got it done.”
“It was a metaphor.”
“Well, you could have fooled me.”
He let out a frustrated sigh, and she could actually see the way he raked his hands through his hair from across an ocean. “Okay. Let’s start again. I have full confidence in you and your team. But a couple of the assholes on the board got wind of what you’re up to and started making waves. They don’t share our confidence in Europe being ready for a comeback yet.”
Just like that, the tension knot between her shoulder blades that she had barely felt in days spontaneously tied itself back up again.
Nine Kinds of Naughty Page 21