The Billionaire and the Wedding Planner

by Emily Tilton

  “Where’s Jason?” Dave asked.

  “He walked Maria home,” Emily answered.

  “Chivalrous,” Georgia giggled. Then, when she saw Emily’s look of disapproval, “What? I think they’re cute together.”

  “It’s only a little more than a year, though,” Quint said, coming in on Emily’s side.

  She felt gratitude warm her heart, but she wanted to be fair, too. “Well, Mom was sick for a while, so…” Then, as a thought occurred to her, she glanced nervously at her bridegroom, then at Dave, and finally at Georgia.

  “Do you think…?” she started.

  Even in the moonlight, Georgia’s fair complexion, the match to Emily’s own, showed her blush. The younger sister’s eyes went instantly to her boyfriend.

  Dave’s handsome, face showed puzzlement at first, but then he seemed to understand.

  Quint, too, had figured out what Emily meant. “He’s really pretty eloquent on the subject,” he said, in a voice that Emily thought could be deadpan humor or utter seriousness.

  “Are we…” Dave said, and then seemed to have trouble figuring out how to put his question delicately. He decided, it seemed to Emily, to speak as neutrally as possible, while still somehow working innuendo into his tone. “…talking about the same subject?”

  Emily looked at Georgia and found her sister looking right back at her. Their blushes were now absolutely mutual. Only a week after Emily’s first spanking, Georgia had learned from her own boyfriend that he would be disciplining her from that point on, as long as they remained a couple. Jason had had the same talk with Dave that he had had with Quint. After her own first fully sexual spanking from Dave, delivered at his apartment with Georgia completely naked and made to call her boyfriend Daddy, the younger Easton had confided in the older one, but to Emily’s knowledge Quint and Dave didn’t know that each of them now regarded spanking his own Easton girl as his responsibility.

  The bridegroom and the boyfriend shared a meaningful look. For a moment Emily lost track of where she actually was, because the most outrageous fantasy she thought she had ever had suddenly flashed into her mind: Georgia and Emily, spanked together for some shared naughtiness—staying out late without texting, maybe. Both of them bottom-up over their men’s knees in the living room, learning their lessons.

  “Georgia,” Dave said in a voice that sent a thrill through Emily’s body because of how it reminded her of Quint’s dominant tone. “Let’s go up to your room.”

  Georgia gave Emily and Quint a nervous-looking glance, then whispered, “Yes, Daddy.”

  Hugs were exchanged, then, though the girls couldn’t quite meet one another’s eyes. A few moments later Emily and Quint stood alone on the corner in the moonlight. She looked up into his eyes, and found his face a little grave, but still smiling.

  She managed to say it. “Am I in trouble?”

  For a moment she felt sure he would say, “Do you want to be in trouble?” Emily thought that approach might be fine with her, in the end, but it wasn’t what her heart longed for, with sudden clarity.

  Instead, though, he said the word she both hoped and feared. “Yes. You certainly found a way to make our wedding night very interesting.”

  Emily’s lips parted in shock: that part she hadn’t anticipated. She had thought maybe he would take her into her house, just as Dave had taken Georgia, to give her a spanking and—despite the violation of protocol—a quickie, too. Ever since the moment during his father’s toast when the tension in her had melted away, her body had ached for his.

  Again she misread him, for she thought he would explain what he meant about their wedding night, but instead he took her in his arms and kissed her hard, and for a long time, until she felt herself cling to him unreservedly, in need of his support even to hold herself upright.

  “Can you come in and… you know, do it now?” she practically begged, when he finally broke the kiss. “Maybe Jason won’t be back for a while?” Jason of course hadn’t placed any Victorian-style prohibition on bride and groom being alone together before the wedding, but Emily had the feeling that Quint intended something that might be rather loud. She didn’t want to name her fears or her desires, but the conviction that she would be making a lot of noise took hold of her mind, and sent a shiver through her.

  “No,” Quint said, in the quiet voice that Emily had learned also carried a kind of soft thunder. “But I have an assignment for you, to get ready for tomorrow.”

  An urge to pretend she thought he meant something about the flowers, or about her dress, flitted through Emily’s brain. It died, though, as she looked up into his blue eyes. She couldn’t even pretend she didn’t know for precisely what part of tomorrow her bridegroom intended her to prepare: the wedding night, in the honeymoon suite of the Park Plaza, clad in the lacy white lingerie over which she had agonized, trying to figure out exactly how Quint would like best to see her arrayed for him, when the white dress came off.

  “What?” Her voice came out almost as a croak, and her breathing had sped up a good deal.

  Quint’s hands were resting lightly on her hips, covered in the cotton blend of the little pink dress—almost but not quite a sundress, since the neckline was more formal; she had intended to drive him a little crazy with desire tonight. She had meant him to go to bed aching for her, because she had meant to run into her house having just pecked him on the lips, to preserve at least the specialness of their wedding night.

  Well, when she decided to take that virgin princess act a little further at the rehearsal, Quint had turned the tables on her very thoroughly, hadn’t he? Now she ached for him—for his firm hand and for his hard cock. But it seemed he meant her to be the one going to sleep that way.

  He raised his right hand to cup the back of her neck, which made her shiver again despite the warmth of the summer night. He bent to whisper in her ear even though the only other people visible were far down Arlington Street, nearly to Commonwealth Avenue.

  “You’re going to use your toy tonight, Emily. All of it, as deep inside you as it will go, on your back with your knees up.”

  She closed her eyes as the warmth seemed to flow through her entire body. The lightness of the dress’ fabric stirred with a tiny warm breeze, and it felt as if Quint’s hands were moving all over her.

  “You may not come, but you must use your toy for fifteen minutes.” He kissed her neck, moved his lips over her jaw, her cheek. She felt the wetness down between her thighs start to flow into the innocent cotton panties she had chosen for tonight.

  For a moment, she thought he had finished speaking, and so she started to respond. “Yes—”

  “Shh,” Quint said. “I have one more thing to say. You’re already going to be spanked tomorrow, for your brattiness at the rehearsal. You get to decide how long and how hard that spanking is going to be, depending on how you act on our wedding day.”

  “That’s not fair,” Emily said before she could stop herself. “I’m the bride.” She felt her lips assume a pout. She didn’t speak defiantly, but rather almost dreamily, as if the words had come from a place in her heart where, as the bride, she also got to be the sort of princess as whom she and Georgia had played endless wedding games.

  Quint chuckled. The closeness of their bodies seemed to make the sound move through Emily’s body. “You can be a benevolent bride or a bratty bride, sweetheart,” he said. “The benevolent bride only gets spanked for being foolish and causing that tiny scene at the rehearsal. The bratty bride spends a long time learning obedience the hard way in the honeymoon suite. I want you to think about that while you play with your toy tonight.”

  Emily’s mind seemed to burn with these words. “What does that mean?” she whispered. “What does the long time mean?”

  But Quint kissed her again, very gently, holding her face in his hands. “Good night, Emily,” he said. “I love you. I’ll see you at the altar.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  Jason took hold of both Maria’s hands, leaned
down, and kissed her. The kiss itself felt very gentle, though having her hands held that way—firmly but without force—seemed to say that he meant her to understand that kissing him was compulsory, and that the thrilling contact of their lips would continue for as long as he decided it should. Somehow, Maria felt like he had already begun to discipline her in that simple, romantic gesture, and she shivered.

  When he finally withdrew his face, very slowly, from hers, a smile curving his lips, slight but so warm that it seemed to soothe her all the way through, he said, “I already know that you’re a very naughty girl, Maria—but also a very good one.”

  She took a little gasping breath through her nose, and as the air filled her chest she became so conscious of her body, and of Jason’s hands, that it seemed her mind had expanded to include every minute detail of the little scene they had begun to play.

  “Why were you crying?” he asked, then, very softly.

  The tears welled up again, without warning, but now they felt so very different that Maria didn’t feel sure she could answer his question honestly, since the whole welter of emotion had now grown so complex.

  She tried, though, keeping it as simple as she could. “I didn’t think this would ever happen.”

  His smile grew a little. His kind, dark eyes seemed even wiser than the first time she had looked closely at them, at that first meeting when Maria had wondered about whether a spanking for the bride might produce helpful results. I ended up the girl getting spanked, she thought, her own lips turning up now. Or one of them, anyway. And now I would do anything to keep getting spanked.

  Suddenly she wanted to make sure he truly understood, though his eyes seemed to say that he already did.

  “I mean… not…” The impulse died as she realized what it was she was about to say, and how it would sound to him. But if she could be honest about needing a spanking, couldn’t she be honest about all of it? “Not… you, really.”

  To her surprise, his smile didn’t fade, but rather broadened. Still, Maria hastened to add what she had planned to say if he had looked as hurt as she felt sure he would, though now it seemed too much. “I mean, you, too, but… really… this.”

  Now she felt helpless to say what she meant, because there didn’t seem to be any words for it.

  “I know what you mean,” Jason said. “Maybe we should go to your place, to discuss it a little more?”

  Discuss. Involuntarily, Maria put her tongue out and licked her lips. Then she blushed furiously, thinking of how naked her desire must appear to him. “Discuss?” she asked weakly.

  “Let’s say a discussion leading to a naughty girl getting what she needs,” Jason said, his smile now turning into a playful grin that seemed to calm the butterflies in Maria’s tummy even as it increased the warmth between her thighs. “Alright?”

  * * *

  As soon as Maria’s door had closed behind them and they stood in the little hallway that led to the living room on the left, with the kitchen beyond, and to her bedroom to the right, Jason said, “I think you should start by telling me what a naughty girl imagines a dominant man might do, to help her learn to behave.”

  Maria felt her heart speed up at the reality of it, as her body seemed to take over from her mind, responding simply and physically in the moment. She stood opposite a tall, fit, gorgeous man. He had spanked her, and she had brought him to her apartment. Her flesh seemed drawn toward him, as if magnetically, while the parts of her nervous system that trafficked in fear made her limbs tense and draw back.

  “C-can’t… can’t we…” What did she mean to say? Can’t we go to the living room? Can’t we talk about it first?

  But he had wanted to talk about it first, hadn’t he? Jason hadn’t told her to take off her clothes. He hadn’t laid a hand on her. Somehow his voice, even speaking words as mild as I think you should…, had felt like a command, like a touch.

  “No,” he said, simply but with a meaning behind it that seemed to tell Maria that now she had let him into her apartment this way, he would decide exactly what transpired. She knew about dominance and submission, of course. A smart young woman who liked from time to time to be naughty with herself before she fell asleep could be forgiven, she thought, for searching the internet once or twice to see if her sometimes rather troubling fantasies fell into the range of normality. She had even connected the spanking Jason had given her with that sort of thing.

  But she had left it at that, because she was busy, and because she told herself she didn’t want a boyfriend right now, and because even if she had wanted a boyfriend she didn’t want one who would dominate her.

  All that changed—or at least seemed to start to change—with Jason’s No. Maria wondered if in future years she might remember herself as actually having seen the truth—the absolute necessity of submission—when he kissed her on the corner of Columbus and Pembroke. Surely it didn’t make for the most romantic of ‘getting-together’ stories to have it happen when your hot, rich, wise new boyfriend refused out of hand your request for a stay in your sentence. When he made it clear that you had to tell him in the hallway, without delay, what you deserved as a hopelessly naughty girl.

  When you cowered back, a little, though your very skin seemed to cry out for his touch, and he put his hand gently on your neck, stepping forward only an inch, or maybe two, and he said in his purring voice with the steel inside it, “Shh. We’re not going to do anything we don’t talk about first.”

  Had they talked about the spanking in her office, before it happened? Well… in her memory she always skipped over that part, hadn’t she? They had talked about it, though of course Jason had, literally, had the whip hand, since he had said—not as a threat, but as a necessity—that he would take the business away from her if she didn’t allow him to discipline her that way.

  “Okay,” Maria whispered, because she didn’t feel capable of anything else.

  Jason’s face had worn a calm but stern expression that hadn’t scared her, exactly… but it had, like every other element of his bearing and his words, displayed his intention to establish mastery over her. Now, suddenly, that severe demeanor changed into a gentle smile.

  “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” he asked.

  “Okay,” Maria said again, trying to figure out how to reconcile her desire for the kiss with her strange disappointment that he hadn’t simply done it.

  That disappointment vanished in an instant, however, when it became apparent exactly why he had asked permission: he could only have asked because the way he kissed her otherwise might have caused her to flee, or faint.

  His other hand came to the other side of her neck, and he advanced a step, so that before Maria even knew what had started to take place she had lost her balance and Jason had pressed her up against the wall of the hallway and started to kiss her so hard, so deeply, and so dominantly that she might have slid down the wall without his body pressed against her now at full length to hold her up.

  We’re not going to do anything we don’t talk about first. That kiss served as a promise and as a warning. He had asked permission, and then he had done it, and even if he had described in detail exactly how he would do it, Maria wouldn’t have understood how overwhelming it would feel.

  He moved his hands down from her neck to seize her wrists as the kiss went on—seize them and pin them against the wall, so unnecessarily because how could Maria resist the kiss it felt she had waited for her whole life, but making the experience even more a realization of every fantasy. She had no choice: he had her wrists. He had her against the wall. He would kiss her exactly as he pleased.

  At last he drew his head back, tilted it, kissed her along her jawline so that she cried out in a way so simple a sensation had never drawn from her before. Yes, she had been kissed along her jaw before, and knew she liked it very much under the right circumstances. It had never made her whole body writhe before, however. It had never made her gush into the lacy panties she had donned for the rehearsal and rehearsal
dinner because maybe, just maybe, Jason would walk her home.

  “What does a naughty girl get, in this apartment, Maria?” he asked, his lips brushing her ear as he spoke and his warm breath sending a shudder through her whole body, effortlessly restrained under his against the wall.

  In this apartment. Somehow with those three words he had stilled so many doubts. She had felt a nameless danger, and he had named it and put it away: what they would do—what Jason would do—had boundaries. Maria knew he didn’t even mean that every time he took her to this apartment the same rules would be in effect—unless of course she agreed to them, and she didn’t at the present moment see the slightest reason she wouldn’t.

  “She gets spanked,” Maria breathed.

  “Hard?”

  She swallowed. “Very hard.” She could hardly believe she had managed to say it, even in the whisper as which it emerged from her lips.

  “What else?” Jason murmured, nuzzling her neck again, then kissing behind her ear. “Do naughty girls get fucked, in this apartment? Do naughty girls suck their masters’ cocks?”

  She shuddered again, whimpered at the mere sound of the words. No man had ever really talked dirty to her before, let alone talked dirty that way—the way a man talks, she couldn’t help thinking, when he knows he’s going to get his way. When he plans to give you no choice, even if he asks you ever so politely to suck his cock, or to bend over, or to spread your legs.

  “Yes.” She felt him smile, and then she realized that she could feel him—his hard length, inside his trousers, against her belly.

  Maria felt him begin to stand up, release her from her position against the wall. No! her body seemed to cry out, the ache down below her tummy wailing loudest of all. For a moment she had thought she might even simply come, from his smile and his still-veiled cock and the very idea of being pushed up against the wall.

  But though he released her right wrist, he kept firm hold of her left one, changing his grip upon it so that he could lead her into her living room. She followed, for she had no choice at all, stumbling a little as he pulled her. When Jason felt the stumble, he stopped so that she wouldn’t fall, and turned to look down at her.