"Oh, it's just harmless fun," Natasha snorted, moving to drink from her glass again, but he snagged it from her in one big hand and tsk-tsked at her.
"I don't think so, missy," he rumbled in a voice that warmed Ashley through.
She rolled her eyes at him. "You never let me have any fun, Sam."
"That's my job, plus, I'm not ending up on Silas and James' shit lists, so don't give me those puppy dog eyes." He flicked a finger at her with his free hand and drained Natasha's drink with a wince. "That's strong, Tash," he chided her.
"Maybe don't be such a wimp," she retorted, crossing her arms and sticking out her lip.
Sam laughed, low and rich, making Ashley think of honey and caramel. Anything that was sinfully smooth and sweet. The man exuded a type of warmth that she associated with Silas and James, and that made it hard for her to keep her distance, even with him chastising them for their behavior. He turned his brown eyes on her and held out his hand.
"Hi, I'm Sam."
Ashley smiled at him, slipping her hand into his. "Ashley. Pleased to meet you, sir."
His eyes widened slightly and he rocked back on his heels, his hand gentle on hers. "Manners and beauty. Where do the guys keep finding girls like you, hmm? And where can I sign up?" He was, she decided then, like Silas and James; there was no other way to explain it.
She blushed and looked down to where he was lightly holding her hand. "Thank you."
"Don't thank me just yet, sweetie. I'm here to babysit. The two of you stepped in it big time tonight, which means no trying to run out on your punishments." He held an arm out, stopping Natasha from where she had made to dart around him, and pulled her close while drawing Ashley forward so that he had an arm around each of the women's shoulders.
Natasha made a face. "Crap."
"You got that right, sis." Sam laughed, nodding at the two men who were now making their way through the crowd toward them. The crush of people parted like the red sea for them, and Ashley watched them approach with both excitement and nervousness. Punishment. Sam had said that word, and so had Natasha. What did it mean for her, and just because her friend enjoyed it, did that mean that she would, too? She licked her lips nervously and shrank into Sam's side when James was standing in front of her.
"Ash," James held a hand out to her, his mouth pressed into a thin line, "Let's go."
She turned her face away, a hand going to catch at Sam's shirt, and she shook her head.
"I don't think she wants to," Sam said, his voice holding a sing-song tone that made her blush, but then James' hands were on her, one at the small of her back and the other on the hand that was clutching at Sam's shirt.
"Honey, look at me," James said, and she looked because there was nothing else she could do when he asked her to do something. Not if she was honest with herself. She would give him the world. And when her eyes hit his, she knew he would do the same for her.
"It's time to go home." He held his hand out to her, and after another beat, she stepped away from Sam and slipped her hand into his.
"Okay," she told him with a nervous look over her shoulder at her friend who was leaning into Silas with a relaxed look on her face despite the glower on her fiancée's face. "See you later, Natasha."
The redhead waved at her and then gave her a wink. "Don't worry; it won't be scary once you're doing it. And just remember, it doesn't hurt as much if you relax!"
The last word was sent as a shout over the crowd and Ashley wished she'd drunk as much as Natasha when she saw Tony look their way, along with a few of the production crew. There would be questions no doubt, but that was blessedly not tonight, so Ashley pushed past her friends with a little wave and tried to hold onto what was currently her present situation, and that was getting the nerve to go over James' knee.
She sucked in a deep breath and kept her eyes focused ahead of her. James' hand was on her lower back, the weight both comforting and bringing to mind what he would be doing to her later. The warmth from his touch seemed to burn a hole through the sweater she was wearing, but she leaned into it anyhow, because, anyway you sliced it, Ashley craved James' touch in whatever way he gave it to her. She only hoped tonight didn't change that.
Chapter 9
Ashley squirmed in her seat and did her best not to let on that she was sneaking sidelong looks at James as he drove. Though, to be fair, if he wasn't aware of the fact that she'd been nervously watching him from the second she'd left the warehouse in Queens with him, then she was quite certain Hell must have frozen over. She huffed out a sigh, eyes dropping to her hands for a second before she attempted another look at James, only to see him shake his head at her.
"I see you," James rumbled, destroying any thoughts on Hell and its current temperature.
She sighed, opting not to say anything, and looked out the passenger window. The ride back to his apartment in Brooklyn had been tense, and she'd almost convinced herself that she'd gotten away with observing James in a somewhat covert manner, but she should have known better. He was far too aware of himself—and her—to not know where her eyes were. Ashley said nothing, her blood humming with the alcohol she'd consumed with Natasha, and she briefly wondered how her friend was faring. The last Ashley had seen of her, Silas had been hustling the still laughing redhead in the opposite direction with a dark look on his face that matched the one James was currently sporting as he pulled into the parking garage and parked.
"Come on, honey." His words were gentle, but there was no mistaking the steel in his voice. He was gone before Ashley could respond, and she swallowed hard before she followed. When she was out of the car and rounding it toward him, she was caught by surprise when he took her hand and tugged her close.
"James, I—" she began, but he shook his head.
"Let's get upstairs first."
She ducked her head. "Okay."
They walked toward the elevator, pressed close, bodies warm and perfectly curved to the other's in a way that spoke of forever so much to Ashley that she felt dizzy by the time they were finally in the elevator and moving. She moved away from him, like she'd touched a hot stove, and leaned heavily against the cool metal of the elevator wall.
"Are you okay?" James was suddenly there in front of her, his hands gentle on her shoulders.
"Yeah, I'm okay, I'm just," she shook her head and let out a shaky laugh, "I don't know."
He tilted her head back with a finger on her chin and frowned. "What don't you know?"
"Everything feels different."
"It's not," he assured her. "At least not yet."
Her eyes widened and she looked at him in confusion. "What do you mean, not yet?"
A hand smoothed over her hair gently. "I mean, that things haven't changed, but they will after tonight."
"Why?"
He dipped his head to look at her. "You know why."
"Because I was bad?"
"Not bad," he told her and squeezed her shoulder gently. "You were very bad."
"I didn't—"
"Don't think I didn't see Natasha and you." He clucked his tongue at her. "I can spot a pair of brats a mile away, and you two were in rare form."
She blushed hot at his tone. "I'm not a brat."
He smirked at her and tweaked her nose. "That's exactly what a brat would say."
"I'm not a—" she began to protest, but the dinging of the elevator made her freeze, the words catching in her throat when she saw the doors slide open. The right combination she'd been searching for to make James see things her way evaporated on her tongue when his gray eyes landed on her with all the force of a Mack truck.
"Move it," he said, nodding at the now open elevator door. When she didn't move forward, he grasped her elbow gently and moved her forward. "Honey, I'm not kidding. Use your feet."
As if on command, Ashley's feet moved and she followed along with James as meek as a lamb until he was letting them into the apartment. The alcohol wasn't quite as strong now, no longer making her blood feel like molten
lava. Instead, it was sitting heavy on her like a lead vest that fed her in all the ways she liked least—most of all, her insecurities, and she shifted from foot to foot, shooting a quick look at James before she ducked into the apartment.
Swallowing hard, she moved toward the couch and sat quickly before her legs gave out from under her.
"Calm down, honey," James murmured, crouching in front of her and taking her hands in his. "This isn't going to be bad."
"What is it going to be, then?" she asked, voice cracking. "Natasha said that you were going to spank me."
He sighed and shook his head. "Damn, Tash."
"Is she wrong?"
"No, she's right."
"I don't want to be spanked," she lied.
His fingers tightened on hers and he moved closer, big, warm body crowding against her and making her lean back against the couch she sat on. "You're lying, baby girl."
"Am not."
"You're telling me, I won't find you wet for me if I check?" James asked, fingers moving to stroke the inside of her wrists.
"What?" she gasped, though the question sent a lightning bolt straight to her clit that made her visibly jump in her seat. She watched as he raised a wrist to his mouth and pressed a slow and deliberate kiss against her skin.
"Are you saying those cute little blue panties you're wearing aren't gonna be soaked through for me if I check, baby?"
She squirmed at the low and husky tone in his tone. She was wearing blue panties, cotton briefs that she hadn't known he'd seen when she'd dressed that morning, and a part of her lit up like the fourth of July, knowing that he'd watched her when she hadn't been aware of it. He wasn't wrong, either, there was a wet patch of her arousal that was steadily growing with every minute that passed. The ride had been pure torture because she'd felt that tension, a blend of raw lust and something heavier, needier, and all of it balanced on the edge of a knife. That greedy tension had filled the air of the small space of the car and made it hard for her to breathe. Every second she had sat next to James had made her hotter, skin prickling, and legs cramped together out of trying to keep her hand from being read early while she'd snuck looks at the handsome man beside her. But now, with him pressing close, his body sharing the same space as hers while he looked her over, she knew the game was up. There was no reason to pretend anymore. Not when his gray eyes saw everything she hadn't said.
She swallowed hard, tongue feeling thick, and gave a quick shake of her head. "No."
James smiled and dropped another kiss to her skin, his lips lingering and soft against her pulse point. Her heart was beating so fast, there was no way he couldn't feel it where his lips were pressed to her skin. She bit her lip and watched him as he continued to kiss his way up her hand until he had her fingertips resting against his lips.
"Good girl," he told her, looking at her then and surprising her with the fire she saw in his eyes.
"Are you going to…" She fidgeted and paused before finishing the question, "Are you going to spank me?"
He nodded. "I am, but first, we have rules to lay down. This isn't like last time. I mean, this."
"Last time?" Her brow furrowed in confusion, and he bit the tip of her finger, making her gasp.
"That little bit of fun we had on our first night," he told her, kissing another fingertip. "This is going to be real."
She nodded and let out a shaky sigh. She wanted real. She could deal with a whole lot of real from James. "Okay, w-what kind of rules?"
"I want you to pick a word that tells me to stop, one that you'll remember. Or do you want to use the stoplight?"
Ashley picked at her sweater and swallowed hard, trying to ignore the wolfish look in his eyes. "Like green, for go?" she finally asked.
"Yes. Yellow, for slow and red, for stop. If you get nervous and don't like something, I want you to tell me yellow. If you hate something, you tell me red, immediately, and it stops. Can you remember that? Does using colors feel right?"
Ashley thought about it and then nodded. "Yeah, it's simple. I think I'll need simple."
He gave her hands a gentle squeeze and kissed another fingertip, the brush of his lips making her shiver. "What don't you want me to do? I plan on spanking you."
"With your hand?" she asked, not liking the idea of him using anything on her but that.
"I can use something else if you want."
She shook her head with a jerk. "No. I want to feel you," Ashley blurted out, and then she blushed at how quickly the protest had fallen from her lips. She hadn't meant to sound so breathy or for her hands to reach for him when she spoke, but here she was, and James grinned at her from where he was, still on his knees in front of her.
"If you want my hand, then that's what you'll get, honey."
"It is," she whispered. "It's what I want."
"Are you okay with me restraining you?" His words raised her temperature a good ten degrees, and she almost groaned at the thought of James having her completely at his mercy.
Would he keep her that way when he finally took her? Would he make her beg? Her cheeks flushed at the images it brought to mind, and she cleared her throat.
"Yes."
"Good. Thank you for telling me you want that. For being honest." He rubbed her hands between his and then reached out, smoothing a hand lightly over her hair and brushing a thumb across her cheek. "I want you to call me Sir."
"Okay." She nodded and raised her eyes to see him looking at her expectantly. "I don't want," she swallowed and looked down at her hands, "I don't want you to hurt me. I don't think I'd like that."
"Then, I won't," he replied, hands now on her knees and rubbing them gently. "But you will be punished."
"I understand." She paused again, licking her lips before adding, "Sir."
The groan that word pulled out of James almost made her moan. She felt that low and throaty purr of approval right down to her core and felt herself grow more aroused. There was no doubt now what James would find when he pulled up her skirt. He'd find her wanting and eager for his touch. He leaned forward from where he was still on his knees and looked up at her.
"Do you know why you're being punished?"
She chewed on her bottom lip. "Natasha told me you'd be mad when we drank."
"It wasn't that you drank. It's how much and how fast," he told her, reaching out to cup her cheek. "It's also where you were. It wasn't safe there tonight."
"I was with the dance production."
"Do you know how many men I saw watching the two of you, watching you, specifically; you're too sweet to be out there like that."
"I wasn't…no one was watching me," she whispered, feeling uncertain under the frown he was directing her way. She wasn't used to attracting attention. That was reserved for the prima ballerinas, for the stars of the show, for women who were leggy and beautiful, not her. She shook her head. "No, that—"
James sighed, fingertips rubbing gently at the back of her neck. "Honey, every single man in there had eyes on you."
She blinked in surprise. "What? But I didn't see. I mean, I didn't see that."
"That's because you were looking at me."
"I was," she admitted. There was no use in lying about where her attention had been. James didn't miss a lot, and the fact that she had been entirely focused on him was no secret. Where he went, so did her attention and focus. She gravitated toward him without even knowing. Even now, she was leaning into him, a happy sigh escaping her at the feel of his hands cradling her cheek. "No one else exists when you're near me."
"I know, honey." James' fingers moved to card her hair, his fingers tugging on the strands lightly. "I don't see anyone else when you're in front of me."
"I don't know why," Ashley whispered, surprising herself.
"What do you mean?"
"You're beautiful."
He chuckled, and his lips turned up in a slight smile. "I'm not."
"You are to me."
James' eyes fluttered closed, a deep sigh escaping his mouth.
"You're too sweet to me. Too good for me."
"I don't think I am. You're about to punish me."
He opened his eyes then and raised an eyebrow. "Because you deserve it."
"I...do," she admitted after a tense moment.
"You need to be more careful," he told her, tugging her close to him and surprising her when he picked her up off the couch with no effort. "Natasha had a hand in this, but she's paying for it now, with Silas."
"Is he doing what you're going to do to me?" she asked when he carried her out of the living area and into the bedroom.
"And maybe more," he said, nudging open his bedroom door and striding toward his bed. The furnishings around her passed in a blur, and before she could get a proper look around, she was being upended into James' lap as he sat down on his bed, her cheek and face pushed close to the mattress where she landed across him.
"Why?"
"She knew better."
"Oh." She might have said more, but the feel of his warm hand on her thighs had her going silent and still. He massaged her gently, both of his hands moving to squeeze her before he flipped up her skirt with a sigh.
"I told you, you would be wearing a skirt."
She smiled and turned her face away and into the comforter. "You did."
"And here we are, with these sweet blue panties." His hand moved slowly up to cradle her ass, and then he squeezed her before his hand dropped to run a finger gently over where her clit was making her gasp.
"Are you wet for me, baby?"
"Yeah," she breathed, her voice coming out more like a cry than anything else.
"Can't wait to taste you."
Her legs parted at that, and she pushed her hips against his thigh. "Please, Sir."
A light warning smack hit her, and she jerked. "Not yet," he said, a hand moving to the center of her back while the other stayed on her ass. "You have to take your spanking first before you get to be my good girl again."
Ashley: Little Girl - Book Two Page 11