Teach Me, Master (Neighbors, 3)

by Qwillia Rain

  Like its mistress. Treats.

  Just her name conjured sensual images of her kneeling before him, her nipples taut, rose-colored peaks awaiting the clips he’d selected exclusively for use on her body. Her wide brown eyes would be hazy with desire. The soft pink lips swollen from the unconscious scrape and chewing of her teeth as she fought back her cries for climax.

  The heat of his arousal and the slow rise of his erection made Vince shift in his chair.

  “Last I heard, you had to open a book with your hands, not a glare.” The amused observation came from the man lounging against the doorframe of Vince’s office.

  Shaken from his imaginings, Vince dragged his attention to his co-worker and away from Treats’ diary. “Sorry, George, did you need something?”

  “Hollings Project report.” The older man crossed the room toward the desk.

  Something in him inclined Vince to settle one hand over the journal while he tugged the requested file from the pile of folders on one side of his desk. The way George arched his right eyebrow signified his curiosity. Vince ignored it. “Surveyor’s report came in yesterday so I rechecked the dimensions and grading required for adequate drainage.”

  George took the file but motioned to the journal on the desk. “I didn’t take you for a pink paisley kinda guy, Black.”

  He grinned. “And I’d have bet good money you couldn’t tell paisley from polka dots, Avery.”

  “Gina has a thing for the design lately. She says it was a symbol of fertility or some shit in ancient Egypt.”

  “How’s she doing?” Talking about George’s wife was a sure-fire way to deflect the other man’s interest. It worked.

  The smile on George’s face made him look more like the actor, George Clooney, everyone mistook him for. “Getting past the morning sickness stage, thank God. I swear if she loses any more weight I’m gonna start force feeding her ice cream.”

  “Only six more months to go, right?”

  “Yes.” Someone out in the hall called George’s name. “If you see Gare before I do, can you remind him to give Gina a call?”

  “Sure thing.” There were times Vince envied his friends’ relationship.

  The second George left, Vince’s attention immediately returned to the journal. With it in his hands, the option of not looking inside was eliminated. “Just a peek,” Vince muttered.

  And immediately followed it with a soft curse as he scanned the page he’d turned to.

  …His fingers tangled in my hair, pulling my head back, forcing my gaze up to meet the glittering azure of his eyes. “Tell me who you belong to.”

  “You, Master.”

  “Did you have permission to touch yourself, pet?”

  The sense of shame shouldn’t be so difficult to ignore, but the thought of displeasing him overcame my desire to rebel, to reclaim control over myself. “No, Master.”

  “Did you pleasure yourself?”

  He’d watched me do just that from the doorway. The slick cream of my climax glistened on my thighs, clear evidence that I’d come. “Yes, Master.”

  Vince slapped the book closed before he could read further. He’d watched Treats and teased her for a year, he’d been careful to ease the idea of BDSM into the phone calls between them, but not once had she hinted about already being involved in the lifestyle. Her reaction the night they’d met had convinced him she wasn’t.

  Although he’d never seen a man with her, he knew there had never been any scene play going on when he’d caught glimpses into her apartment. That didn’t mean she hadn’t gone somewhere else to indulge.

  She’d never been to the clubs or parties he frequented. He’d have known if she’d been close by. His body was more than happy to announce its interest in playing all kinds of naughty games with her. Hell, he’d gone a few times in the last year, but only at the request of friends to help supervise play, because he certainly wasn’t interested in taking any play dates home. Unless the sub was Triss.

  Perhaps that needed to change. The business card he’d pilfered from the silver card case that had spilled from her bag, sat on the edge of his desk blotter. If his Treats wrote about being dominated, perhaps he should include an offer to show her the real thing while he pushed her to the next level.

  He’d have to correct any mistakes or bad habits she might have picked up. Based on her reactions during their calls, she can’t have had very strong Doms in the past.

  If he was going to train her, she’d have to learn his rules. Opening the journal to the first page, he started reading.

  * * * * *

  “I won’t wait much longer, pet.”

  His words echoed in her mind for the rest of the day. Long after she’d collected the keys and addresses of the other two units her boss, Lynnette Baxter, wanted her to clean, Triss found herself gazing off into space lost in thought. The sensual promise in Vince’s voice couldn’t be ignored. Or denied.

  Scenes played through her head as she moved around her apartment making herself a light dinner of chips and a sandwich. Even when she tried to settle down to work on her latest book, images of Vince gently coaxing her into his apartment, then into his bedroom, where he’d seduce her out of her clothes and make love to her for hours kept slipping into her head. They were bothersome, but easily ignored.

  The not so gentle fantasies of him taking the choice from her, dragging her inside, his mouth covering hers, demanding a response while he stripped her body, tied her down, and ignited the passion smoldering deep within her. Those visuals weren’t easily dispelled. She deliberately ignored the fact that her body responded more to the latter scenes than the former. At least she tried to.

  Seated in front of her computer, Triss forced herself to focus on the notes for her current book. It didn’t help. When she couldn’t stop the thoughts from resurfacing, she opened a new document, closed her eyes, and began to type the fantasy playing out against her closed eyelids. Hopefully, if she got it out of her head and onto the page she’d stop thinking about it.

  Night had fallen but the lights of the parking area hadn’t come on yet, only the dim glow from the street lamps on the other side of the buildings cut through the gloom as I loaded the last of my cleaning supplies into my truck and shut the rear door.

  Strong arms captured me, one binding my arms at my sides, the keys to my truck slipping from my hold to drop onto the asphalt at my feet. Callused fingers covered my mouth, stilling the cry that surged against my lips.

  “No more waiting, Treats.” Vince’s voice was easily recognizable as the heat of his breath caressed my ear.

  All the protests I made, he ignored. He effortlessly manhandled me across the parking lot and up the stairs. Not until we were locked in his condo did he release his hold on me.

  Equal parts dazed and aroused, my heart thudded in my chest, my breath caught in my lungs. I could barely hear over the sound of my blood rushing through my veins. “What are you doing? Are you crazy?”

  In the dim confines of his home, I could only make out the shadows of his furniture; a sofa and easy chair; coffee and end tables. It all touched on my periphery; the sole focus of my senses was Vince.

  His eyes gleamed with sensual fire. The air around his body vibrated with tension. Waves of sexual intent washed over me as his hands rose and he discarded first his top coat then the suit jacket beneath. I stifled a sensual moan at the sight of his cotton-clad chest. He toed off his shoes next, before his fingers went to work on the knot of his tie, leaving the length of silk loosely draped beneath his collar and down his chest.

  So many times have I imagined the silk knotted around my wrists.

  One by one he slipped the buttons down the front of his shirt free, his gaze never straying from my face. My attention torn between his intent gaze and the tanned muscles sprinkled with ebony curls. Once the shirt was undone, he loosened the cuffs and rolled the sleeves back to the middle of his forearms. He looked ready for heavy work.

  “I – you can’t do this.” I
stammered. The heat building in my body a direct result of arousal rather than anger.

  “No more games, pet. Time you admitted who your master is.”

  “Master?” The word felt perfect on my lips. The way each syllable surfaced, caressed my tongue, and rolled from my mouth to fill my ears sent tremors of anticipation through my body. I’d dreamed of saying it, but never dared. Now he was taking the choice from me and I thrilled at the mixture of indignation and fear. What would he do if I refused?

  How could the mere thought of becoming his possession have me hovering on the verge of climax? The idea was ludicrous.

  Insane.

  Orgasmically sublime.

  “Here and now your lessons begin, Treats. I’ve waited long enough for you to choose.”

  “But I didn’t--”

  “Not in so many words, but I could see it in your eyes.”

  Had I been that transparent? Were the secret desires, the desperate need to be controlled so easily read in my gaze?

  Any further speculation was lost when he crossed the carpet and spun me to face the wall separating the living room and one bedroom.

  His lips caressed my ear. His breath hot against my neck. “You’ve been a very bad girl, Treats.”

  “But --”

  “Don’t talk. No excuses will suffice. Hands on the wall, spread your legs.”

  “No. I won’t --”

  His fingers tangled in my hair, stinging my scalp with a sharp tug. “Wrong response, pet.” He didn’t bother speaking again. The skirt I’d worn was shoved to my waist, exposing my bottom left bare by my black silk thong. I could feel the scrape of his callused fingers over the rounded curve of my ass. Fire followed his fingertips. His touch moved forward, along my hip to caress my lower belly before pushing beneath the black silk clothing my pussy.

  I squirmed, but whether it was to evade his hold or to encourage his touch, I couldn’t be sure. My mind was too mired in sensation to think coherently. And I wanted him. Wanted this too much and for too long.

  The independent determined part of my nature protested the aggressive claiming, but deep inside something stirred. I gasped when his fingers pushed between my thighs and fondled the swollen folds of my sex. The proof of my readiness wet his fingertips. Embarrassment burned my cheeks.

  “Very good, Treats. Nice and ready for me.”

  “You can’t do this, Vince.” I tried to sound resolute, but a whimper slipped free, betraying my need, my arousal. How could I want this? I shouldn’t, but I did.

  “Hands on the wall.” The side of his foot tapped against the heels I wore, urging my legs apart.

  I felt like a fugitive, my hands pressed against the cool textured paint; the sandy color should have been soothing. It wasn’t. I cursed the sexy stilettos I’d slipped on in preparation of the date I’d made for later. “I have to be somewhere, Vince. I can’t stay here.”

  His hand released my hair and settled against my hip, pulling me toward him. I teetered onto my toes, my balance off forcing me to lean farther forward to keep from falling.

  “A date, pet?”

  Something in his tone warned me that if I said yes, there would definitely be consequences. But the option to lie was impossible. The caress of his fingertips over my clit and through the tingling lips of my pussy banished any ability to prevaricate from my mind. “Umm. Ohh. Ye--yes.” I moaned, fighting the urge to rock my hips against his fingers.

  His fingers stilled. “A man?”

  Befuddled and aching to have him tunnel his fingers into my pulsing core. I moaned and wriggled against him. “Yes. Please, Vince.” My only thought was my need to feel his fingers stretching my pussy. I was close. So close to coming.

  His body went still against me. In less than a heartbeat the black silk was ripped from my hips and the fiery heat of his cock slammed into me from behind. I cried out in shock, pain, and ecstasy as he forged through spasming muscles and seated himself within me. I could feel him, thick and hard, stretching my vagina. The head of his cock pressed against my cervix.

  “No one fucks you but me, Treats.” The growled order vibrated against my throat as his teeth latched onto the curve between my neck and shoulder, clamped down, and held me in place as he rammed his body in and out of mine. Thrust after thrust forced me off my feet. My cheek rubbed against the wall. I clawed at the smooth surface, desperate to find something to anchor myself, even as my senses spun out of control, the edge of pain pushing me higher and higher.

  Her body shuddered in response to the fantasy playing out in her mind. Her fingers flew over the keyboard, but stilled as a throaty moan filled the silence of her apartment. Breathless, dazed and slightly dizzy, Triss’s hands stilled on the computer. She took long, slow, deep breaths to bring her body back under control. Deep inside, intimate muscles rhythmically clenched and released as her orgasm swelled then subsided.

  Her skin tingled and the hairs on the back of her neck prickled in warning. Her head fell back against her chair as she slowly returned to the real world. Triss blinked, lifted her head, and opened her eyes. Through the open blinds of the sliding glass door that led out onto her balcony, she spotted the flare of a lighter followed by the reddish glow of a cigarette on a balcony across the street. His balcony. Caught between fantasy and reality, she watched Vince lean on the railing in the soft glow of sunset, his gaze directed toward her.

  A ripple trembled through her. The moist heat at the juncture of her thighs reignited. Another pulsing climax shivered through her. Thrown off kilter and surprised, Triss gripped the desk with both hands, riding out each successive wave. When it was over, she shoved herself onto her feet and pulled the blinds closed, shutting out the sight of the man even as her body shuddered and rocked with a third orgasm.

  Confused and furious at herself, Triss went through the motions of shutting down her computer and turning off the lights in her apartment. She carried her journal into her bedroom to make a few more notes on her book before she went to bed, refusing to let her mind dwell on what had just happened. Refusing to examine the depth of satisfaction she felt at the thought of allowing Vince to dominate her. No man had drawn that response from her. Ever.

  Vince watched her close the curtains while he took another drag from his cigarette and allowed the mellow flavor of cloves and tobacco to linger on his tongue. He wasn’t a fool. He realized what he’d seen and his body screamed for attention, but he pushed the desire aside.

  Control. Calm. Breathe. Remember the plan.

  He ground the cigarette out in the small ashtray he kept on the porch before he moved inside to the kitchen. Vince poured another cup of coffee before turning off the machine. He tried relaxing into one of the armchairs in his living room, but it didn’t last. He paced around his apartment his attention bouncing from one thing to another unable to focus on anything but the woman across the street. His attention kept going to the closed blinds of her apartment. Not enough time had elapsed since she’d shut him out.

  Images created by the words in her journal had him aching to march across the street and demand she let him in. The rational, sane portion of his brain warned it would only gain him a taste of what he truly wanted. He’d been attracted to Treats the second they’d met. Only her reluctance to go beyond phone sex had kept him from pushing too hard. Not now. Not after reading the scenes she’s so meticulously detailed in her journal. She might pull back after every call, but a part of her wanted what he offered. He simply needed to tap into it and let it free.

  After taking a sip of his coffee, he pulled the business card from his pocket and read it again.

  Triss Long, Author

  Erotic Romance

  That had piqued his interest when he’d read it in his office that afternoon. He’d even wondered if the fantasies had been actual scenes for a book. A quick internet search had turned up her website, her publishers’ websites, and a list of her books. None of which delved into BDSM. Which meant the fantasies were hers. Private and unexplored. Yet
.

  He tapped the card on the raised breakfast bar before laying it down. He activated and put on his Bluetooth headset. Her number had been stored and given a speed dial digit after their first call. Mind focused on gaining her submission, Vince crossed the living room toward his balcony.

  The sliding glass door was silent when he slid it open then closed. The streetlights casted shadows as they burned through the light fog and onto the wet pavement below. Behind him, the lights inside his condo illuminated his presence. In the past he’d stayed in the dark, watching Treats while he coaxed her to climax, but not anymore.

  He’d made his intentions plain to her this afternoon. Watching her body tremble with arousal earlier while she worked on her computer only intensified his determination to have her. Her protests meant nothing after he’d read her journal. None of the camouflage she used deterred him. No matter how baggy her sweatshirts and jeans, he’d had the opportunity to get close enough to know that her waist curved inward rather than out, her breasts were full and round, and her hips.

  Mmm. Her hips. A rumbling growl of appreciation slipped free as he stared across the street.

  Treats had the softest, roundest hips. Perfect for squeezing tight or cradling a man as he made love to her. The thought of sliding her loose jeans off and slipping between her rounded thighs had Vince adjusting his stance as the fit of his slacks grew restricted. If the woman only knew the number of times he’d imagined walking into his condo to find her kitted out in a sweet little French maid’s outfit; blouse cut to there and skirt up to… Vince shook off the thoughts and leaned against the wall dividing his balcony from the empty condo next door.

  He’d get her to say yes. Soon. And when she did … oh man, he was going to dive in. And the things he’d do to her.

  He closed his eyes and let himself indulge in the fantasy of stalking her through his condo, back into the bedroom until she tumbled across the sheets. Her breasts heaving, eyes wide with excitement and playful fear, she’d watch him pounce. Only a few motions would be necessary to secure her wrists and ankles to the bed, laying her spread out like a sumptuous buffet before him. He’d enjoy ripping the clothes from her body before he began to play.