by Lily Harlem
“I’m thinking I wish our cod would hurry up. I’m famished.”
I raised my eyebrows and fixed her with a dirty look. I couldn’t help it.
“What?”
“You’re avoiding the subject. What happened to honesty? That didn’t last long, did it?”
“Oh bugger. You’re right, Travis. I’m not being honest.” She hesitated. “But I have a good reason.”
She glanced at the door. Damn it.
“You do?” I unfolded my arms, sat back and smiled at her. “Tell me, Marie, I want to hear it.”
She studied me, swiping her tongue over her lips. “Yes, okay,” she said, lowering her voice and leaning toward me a little. “I’m just not comfortable talking about this stuff here. In public. I mean this little booth is all very cozy and all but…” She paused as a waiter walked past. “See what I mean?”
“Hmm.” I stared at her, checking her face for any signs that she might be lying and this was just a ruse to get away from me. Though I figured it was pointless—she probably knew all about the “tells” that people had when they weren’t speaking the truth and deliberately prevented herself from doing any of them. Perhaps her mumbo jumbo had a use after all. “Fair enough. I understand that privacy is important. But I would really like to know the answer at some point. And in the near future, preferably.” I smiled again, willing her to keep her attention on me and not check the time.
“Okay,” she said with a nod, the corners of her luscious mouth curving upward. “I will.”
Well, that was easy. I’d been expecting a lot more resistance than that, despite her promise to be honest with me. “Great,” I said.
“I’m glad that’s agreed.” She took another sip of water.
The action left her lips glistening with the liquid and I had to resist the temptation to lean over the table and kiss it right off. Damn, what was it about her? She was just so edible.
“We’ll just finish our meal,” she said, “then go back to my office and continue our conversation in private. I think that would be for the best, don’t you?” Her dark eyes twinkled with mirth.
“W-what?”
Fuck it, she’d outwitted me and she knew it. If I wanted to hear her answer, I’d have to do as she said, which seemed a little backward to me—it was usually me doing the bossing around. But if conceding to her on one occasion took me a step closer to having her submit to me on many occasions in the future, then I’d do it. Willingly. That thought slammed into my mind, “many occasions”. Fuck. Suddenly I wanted Marie, desperately. And I certainly didn’t want to share her with Peter—it wasn’t going to work that way again, and besides, the situation was completely different. He wasn’t my best buddy, he was my coach. He also had no idea how to treat a woman properly.
Remembering I hadn’t answered her, I swallowed my exasperation at her having gotten me over a barrel and smiled. “That would be fine, Marie. Ah—and here is our meal now.”
I nodded my thanks to the waiter, who backed away with a little bow.
This meal couldn’t be over soon enough. And when it was, we’d see who was really in control.
*
Marie gestured me through the open door of her office, followed quickly, then closed it behind the both of us. I saw her hesitate over the lock for a second, then she twisted it with a soft click.
I turned away, pretending not to have seen what she’d done. Inside though I was doing somersaults. Leaving it unlocked could have meant several things—she wanted a swift escape, she didn’t want to be inside a locked room with me, we weren’t going to do anything remotely private.
But locked—locked meant several things too, and they were much more favorable as far as I was concerned. She didn’t want to escape, she was okay with being in a locked room with me and, best of all, there was a chance we were going to do something private, and hopefully that meant more than having a discreet conversation.
“So,” she said, walking briskly across the room and placing her sunglasses and bag down on the desk. “Would you like to sit?”
“Hey,” I replied, staying exactly where I was, “this isn’t a session, you know. I didn’t agree to that. I just said we’d come back here so we could continue our conversation.”
She held her hands up in supplication. “I know, I’m just offering you a seat. There’s no need to be so touchy. Do what you like, but I’m going to sit in the comfy spot for once, just to show that this isn’t a session. Does that help?”
With that, she settled onto the S-shaped sofa.
“Fine by me,” I replied, moving across the room and sitting in her soft desk chair. Now the tables were turned—I would be the one grilling her. Two muffled thumps indicated that she’d kicked off her shoes. Then she twisted on the seat so she was facing me, her legs crossed. I was gutted that the curve of the sofa was preventing me from seeing straight up her skirt, which was no doubt rucking up her thighs.
She scowled at me from her new position and I grinned back. “Heh. How do you like it, Marie? I haven’t even asked you a question yet and already you’re uncomfortable.”
“I’m perfectly comfortable so just get on with it,” she snapped. “Before I change my mind.”
“All right, all right. No need to be bitchy.” God, she was a little firecracker. If she really was a sexual submissive, it was buried deep underneath all that attitude.
“Sorry,” she said. But it didn’t sound as if she meant it, not one bit. I gave up trying to get her to relax and just came out with it.
“So,” I said softly, trying not to incite any more of her ire, “what did you want to say about my comment that you couldn’t say in public? About me missing having a submissive woman to share the BDSM aspect of my life with.” I added that last part quickly, not wanting her to make the excuse that she couldn’t remember what we’d been talking about. She was a smart woman and I figured the best way to handle this conversation was to try to stay one step ahead of her.
“Um…” She looked down at her hands, which she was wringing. I stopped myself from prompting her—at this stage she was like a flighty bird and if I pushed her too hard she’d get frightened and fly away. Or, you know, run.
She looked back up at me and I pasted what I hoped was a kind, encouraging expression on my face. A tiny smile flitted across her lips and she pulled in a deep breath before letting it out. I heard the quaver as she released the air from her lungs. God, what was making her so nervous? Was it me, the BDSM thing or both?
“Okay,” she said firmly, clearly trying to insert some confidence into her tone but not entirely succeeding. “I admit I was buying some time to respond to you about this. But even now I’m not sure what to say. I don’t really understand BDSM. I know what it means, what it is, of course, but I’m sure there’s a lot more to it. More to it than spanking, being spanked, handcuffs, ropes and the like.”
I nodded slowly, pleased that she was being honest and that she already had an idea that there were nuances, variety and depth to the scene.
She flashed me a nervous grin, then squeezed her eyes closed. Fuck, whatever she was going to say next was something she was really struggling with. Did she think I was some kind of depraved pervert, unable to get my rocks off unless I was hurting someone? No, it couldn’t be. So far she hadn’t been reticent when it came to telling me what she thought of me—especially if it was an insult.
“I would like to know more about it—more than a bit of googling will tell me—and most of all, I would like to understand why… Why I, um, liked it when you pulled my hair. I liked it a lot, how you made me feel, how you were with me.”
A bolt of triumph zinged through my body and I was glad she had her eyes closed so she couldn’t see the huge grin on my face. Not to mention the growing erection I was sporting. I straightened my face quickly and pushed my palm onto my cock, willing it to go down—for the time being, anyway. I suspected she’d now voiced the most difficult part of it for her, but I still didn’t want to scare he
r off. Not now we’d got this far.
I knew she’d fucking liked it. I’d known all along—her body couldn’t lie—but the fact she’d admitted it first to herself and now to me was progress. It didn’t mean, of course, that she’d throw herself to her knees in front of me and call me Master, but I hoped it meant she was up for some exploration. With me. At least I hoped with me and not bloody Peter, not that he gave off any signs of being anything other than vanilla, but hey, most guys could be persuaded.
No, it had to be me, and she obviously trusted me to have confessed that much. And I desperately wanted that trust to extend further—for her to allow me to help her to delve into the side of her that had secretly enjoyed the pain and to see how far that side went. Could she trust me with that pleasure? Offer me her body completely? It didn’t mean she was submissive, of course. It just meant she liked pain with her pleasure and was confident enough in herself as a sexual woman to admit it.
Damn, that was attractive.
But something, some instinct based in the darkest, kinkiest side of me, told me that there was more to it than that. And I was determined to coax it out of her, to help her to explore her full potential. Whatever that may be.
I suddenly became aware of the silence in the room and realized that I hadn’t said anything in response to her confession. I looked at her brown eyes, wide and expectant.
Standing, I moved slowly—still careful not to freak her out—over to the sofa and sat in the empty seat she usually occupied. Her client-grilling seat.
“Thank you for being honest with me, Marie. Thank you for trusting me. That can’t have been easy. Our mutual arrangement stands though. What you’ve told me will never go any further. Now,” I said, reaching out to stroke her hand, the one that rested nearest me. She didn’t pull away, which I took as a positive sign. “I’m happy to help you learn about BDSM, but as is often the case, the best way to learn is by practical demonstration.”
A tiny crease appeared between her eyebrows as she assessed me, probably trying to work out if I was joking or not. I took the hand I’d been stroking and squeezed it gently.
“Do you want to try something now? Just something mild, I mean.”
She gazed at me for a second longer, then nodded slowly.
“Okay,” I said, trying not to appear too eager—or desperate. “Get up.”
I released her hand and we both stood. I beckoned her closer. “Now,” I said, pausing to touch her face lightly, “an important thing to remember is something we’ve already mentioned several times. Trust. You have to trust in your Dominant—or Dom—and if you can’t, then he’s not right or good for you. You have to be comfortable in taking instruction from your Dom, knowing that he’ll never make you do anything that would truly harm you. Also, submission and masochism aren’t the same thing. They often go hand in hand, but not always. It’s possible to be one thing or the other. I hate to say ‘thing’, but you know what I mean, don’t you?”
Marie nodded, her expression expectant. I wasn’t sure if she was waiting for more information or for me to actually do something, but either way I was pleased with how things were going. Mainly because she hadn’t run away, glanced at the door or checked her watch. Yet. There was still time to inadvertently scare the shit out of her.
“Have you thought about whether you’re one or the other? Or both?”
She shrugged. “I’m not sure, really. I liked the pain, you know that, but when you were telling me what to do, it just annoyed me. But then I wasn’t really expecting anything like that to happen.”
“Fair enough. So now things are different between us, shall we try something?” The softly-softly approach was really hard for me, clearly at odds with my natural personality, but I wanted Marie so badly that I’d deal with it. For now. Besides, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t be much of a Master would I? And I prided myself on being experienced and skilled when it came to Domination.
“O-okay,” she replied, fiddling with the hem of her blouse.
“Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle with you. It’s just a little experiment, nothing else. Just to see how you feel. If it floats your boat, so to speak.”
She gave me what could only be described as a relieved smile. I reached forward and put my fingers beneath her chin, lifting her head. Then I closed the space between us and did something I’d been dying to do for days—I kissed her. I had an ulterior motive too. I wanted to use her reaction to me kissing her to gauge what to do next, what I thought she’d be able to take.
Her lips were soft, supple, and she opened them to admit my tongue almost instantly, causing my semierection to grow quickly into a full one, which pressed insistently against the crotch of my jeans. Aching for her.
I wrapped my arms around her and pulled her into me, resisting the temptation to grind my cock against her. She’d know damn well how hard I was without me doing that. I wondered if she was getting wet, whether the gusset of her knickers was damp. Because of me, because of what we were talking about. What we were doing.
She slipped her arms around my waist and I did a mental cheer. She was definitely into this, into me, and the little moans issuing from her throat emphasized that fact, boosting my confidence and rendering me capable of what I did next.
I pulled away from the kiss, leaving her gasping with spots of color on her cheeks and fully dilated pupils. She looked amazing, perfect, and I wanted her so much it hurt.
“Okay,” I said, “now get on your knees.”
My breath caught when, after the slightest hesitation, she did as I asked, dropping to her knees on the plush carpet. Before she changed her mind, I reached down and undid my jeans, then pulled my cock out of my boxers, pointing the head in her direction.
“Now suck it.”
My heart pounded as she looked up at me, an inscrutable expression on her face. She appeared frozen, stunned by my bold move. But that was okay, I was good at giving orders.
“Suck me off, Marie, now.”
She swallowed then inched her mouth closer and closer to my dick. I forced myself to stay still, not to grab her hair and pull her onto me. Maybe that day would come, but it wasn’t going to happen this afternoon. The last thing I wanted was a pissed-off woman with her mouth—and therefore teeth—anywhere near my cock. Marie was a firecracker all right, and I wouldn’t put it past her to show displeasure in such a way.
After what seemed like an age, her lips closed around the tip of my shaft and I was swiftly catapulted toward heaven on Earth.
Chapter Nine
Travis’ meaty cock was inches from my mouth. Thick and hard, lined with several dark, bulging veins and topped with a shiny head that invited licks. And lots of them.
I was stunned by his daring action, yes. It was way beyond what I thought would happen today. But equally at war with my shocked state was a glut of longing that had pooled inside me, dampening my panties and spiking my nipples. If this was wrong, how come it felt so right?
I stared at the way he held the shaft in his palm, stroking his thumb over the length and then into the rim. Caressing, fondling himself, as if showing me what he liked.
I swallowed and could almost taste him. The scent of his body was swimming around me, hot and vital, testosterone-soaked male, lacing my nostrils and tongue, winding its way into my lungs and down my throat.
“Now suck it,” he said, the words seemingly being dragged out of his throat on a crest of lust.
Suck it!
Saliva pooled in my cheeks, my heart thudded. Had I imagined the words?
I glanced up at his face and adjusted the position of my knees on the floor. I felt so small down here. He was looming over me, casting his big shadow over me.
“Suck me off, Marie, now.”
Okay, I heard that all right. And there was something in his voice, his tone, that expected to be obeyed. No, make that demanded to be obeyed.
I swallowed again, leaning closer and parting my lips. A shiver of excitement rattled up my spine and I felt a
rise of goose bumps on my nape.
He clenched his fists at his sides. I noticed his knees lock and then I took him into my mouth.
He sucked in a breath.
I didn’t hear it release as I reached for his hips, gripped and sank him deep, taking him swiftly to the back of my throat. I adored how he filled my mouth, slotting onto the base of my tongue, the head of his erection as smooth as silk yet as hard as granite.
I paused with him as far down as I could take him, created a suction then rippled my tongue against his hardness.
“Ah yes, that’s it, perfect,” he said, resting his hands gently on my hair. “Just like that, Marie. Oh, yes, such a good girl, such a good psychologist.”
Psychologist.
Fuck, that word was like a steam train tearing through my conscience. What the bloody hell was I doing sucking off a client? Not just any old client either, but Travis fucking Connolly, world-famous tennis star.
I pulled back, let him pop from my mouth and scooted away, right until I felt the wooden side of my table against my shoulders. My breaths were hard to catch, my vision blurred. I’d always prided myself on my professionalism, but this, Jesus, this really took the biscuit. Oral sex in my office. Oh my God.
“Marie.” He gripped his wet cock, pressing his thumb over the slit. “What the—?”
“I can’t, don’t you see? This is crazy.” I flung my arms around the room. “We’re supposed to be talking, talking about things to help you get back on track with your game.” The words tumbled from my mouth. “And here I am, on my knees and…”
He breathed so deep his nostrils flared. He pressed his lips together and drew his eyebrows down low. “For fuck’s sake.”
I used the table to lever myself into a standing position, watched him tuck his cock away and straighten out his t-shirt.
“That was so wrong, I apologize,” I said, hating the pained expression he wore. “Obviously if you want to report me, that’s fine. I understand—”
He stepped up to me fast, gripped the tops of my arms. “What the bloody hell are you talking about?” He lowered his face, his nose almost touching mine.