by Ava Claire
But my exhaustion was more than mental and emotional. Mia made me work for that signature, calling me all hours of the night because she wanted coffee. Wanted to go to some hipster store after hours. Wanted some impossible dish at 2 in the morning. I could barely keep up, but after I got over the slight annoyance at her wearing out my cell, I loved it. Hearing about her past. Sharing my own. It was like having a little sister. But getting her to agree on becoming a client was the easy part. Now it was time for the hard work of rebuilding her career.
I looked up at Jacob, his eyes bright as a kid’s with a shiny new toy. Tonight wasn’t about his mother or Mia or anything else but the two of us. Tonight was about submission.
I was ready. My hair was down, wild and free the way he liked it. I had nothing on other than a ruby red lacy chemise that made my skin look rich and supple. He picked up the cuffs I had sitting on the cushion beside me, just waiting to be secured around my wrists. And my body? He hadn’t even touched me yet and I trembled. My breasts ached, nipples swollen against the sultry material that bound them. Goosebumps spread with every breath I took. My core clenched when he stepped closer. I was already so wet, so ready that I was surprised I didn't slip right off the bench.
He tugged his tie loose, eyes drinking me in nice and slow. “The bench is lovely, Leila.” I closed my eyes as his fingers sifted through my curls. “You’re lovely.”
I knew he thought I was beautiful. Found my curls and curves sexy. He could barely keep his hands off me in the morning when my hair was sticking out all over the place and I wore the ratty t-shirt that hugged me in ways that used to make me feel self-conscious. But lovely meant something else tonight. I saw it shining in his eyes as his fingers drifted to my cheek and he traced my jawline, hitting the edge but repeating it like he couldn’t bear to stop touching me. Lovely had nothing to do with what was on the outside. He saw what was beneath. He saw me.
He raised my chin and took my lips in his, his tongue melting against mine. The ache between my legs grew and he paused, smiling against my lips. He could read my body like an open book.
“I want to see you.” His voice deepened, the timbre making my core clench with recognition. His bedroom voice. Low. Sensual. “All of you.”
I went to yank the straps down, caution and decorum fading as I let my lust take the wheel.
Jacob’s hand covered mine, stopping me. “Slowly.” His tone had hints of amusement as he released me and stood back. “We have plenty of time and plenty to do, Leila. Take it easy.”
I felt a flash of rebellion at his flagrant disregard at my attempt to show how badly I wanted him. Take it easy? With him standing there, watching me strip with that heat in his eyes? My own darted to his crotch and it did nothing but make me more impatient. His erection made the throb turn into an overpowering ache. I could make out every thickened inch, wrapping around his thigh, piercing the tailored seams.
I looked up from the yummy bulge, hoping a stern look from him would calm me down, but there was no such luck. The cool mask of my dominant was cracked. His lips were parted, trembling ever so slightly. Blue eyes watched me intently, like he was daring me to mouth off. Hoping for it.
I didn’t disappoint.
I hitched a breath, feigning shock as I yanked the strap down, heart thumping when I heard the static sound as the material ripped and my breast sprung free. I glared at him disobediently, taking in the hard set of his jaw before I pointedly dropped my eyes to his erection.
I bit my lips. “Oops.”
I'd been so sure directly disobeying him would have provoked him. He would come closer, knot his fingers in my hair and order me to flip over so he could show me what happened when I forgot my place. It's what had me watching every line of his face, practically chanting silently for them to tighten. Looking into the eyes that pierced, waiting for them to blaze. But he just stood there, face blank. No, not blank--unimpressed. Bored.
And I'd just ripped my brand new chemise.
He was definitely playing hard to get. Usually my punishment was immediate. I'd already be pressed into the cushion. Strapping me down would be irrelevant because I wouldn't be going anywhere. My whole body would be taut, heart beating in my ears as I waited for the whistle as his hand cut through the air and collided with my ass.
But right now, I was still upright. Butt in the wrong direction. Not breathing through the strikes as pain met molten pleasure. Right now all I felt was frustration.
I had no need of stony faced Jacob, watching me intently when it was clear I was in need of some hard loving. Maybe it wasn't clear...so I jerked the other side down, the material slinking to my waist. Both breasts exposed, chest heaving as I glared at him defiantly.
Spank me. Punish me. Just take me. "What are you waiting for?"
His cool eyes dropped to his cuff and he slowly rolled up his sleeves. "This little display was endearing at first. You know how I love it when you beg. Usually, I'm so caught up in you I let your obvious attempts at lording your will over me slide." He leaned in and I closed my eyes, giddy at the thought of him punishing me, but he reached beside me, tugging at one of the hooks on the bench.
"This bench is a sign of a lifestyle. One where a submissive gives control, her being, over to her lover. Her Dominant." His eyes narrowed. "How have you given yourself over to me? All I see is a petulant child trying to provoke me. It is a waste, Leila. You know how this ends, with you on your stomach, ass in the air. Why force my hand?" He gave me a wilting look when I remained quiet. "Now you choose to listen? Answer my question."
Because the patience is a virtue stuff is BS. I censored my answer. "I just want you, Jacob."
"And I want your submission." He brought his index finger to his chin, tapping it lightly as he thought something over. "Perhaps I should send you downstairs to check the mail as you are. Go for a drive with you wearing nothing at all beside me."
Heat tingled in my cheeks at the thought of being naked in public. Being seen. "Jacob..."
"You've forgotten what submission is," he cut in smoothly. "It's more than rough sex, Leila. More than being tied up and tied down. It's pushing limits. Exploring your sexuality." He snapped his fingers. "Get up."
I snapped to my feet, not sure what to expect. I definitely wasn't expecting him to step around me and pick up the bench and walk toward the...
Oh my god.
He was taking it outside to the patio.
Memories of touching myself on the wicker chair, my nerves, and the way it felt to release my inhibitions rocked me. Touching myself was one thing, but Jacob spanking me out there? I was rooted firmly in place, the old, familiar pangs of apprehension back.
He stepped back through the French doors, wearing an evil smile. “What’s the problem? I thought you couldn’t wait to try out the spanking bench?” The smile hardened. “Isn’t that why you disobeyed me?”
I bit my lip, keeping my retort to myself. He knew better than anyone how self-conscious I got when I thought anyone was watching.
That’s the whole point, Lay. Pushing your limits. Jacob taking charge instead of the other way around.
It didn’t help psych me up for what he wanted to do out there.
I took a few steps forward, bringing my working strap back up, using my other hand to cover my other breast. “I shouldn’t have provoked you. I just really want you. Wanted this.”
He leaned against the doorway, his steely eyes telling me it was too little, too late. “And I want you. I plan on spanking you, Leila. Right out there.”
My throat tightened. It was dinnertime and it was perfect windows open weather. There were probably even people out on their patios. Before, I worried we might be heard. There was no longer a maybe. We would be heard.
Section Nine
I breathed in and out and moved forward. My body was already on board. I just had to get my head to catch up.
He was watching my movements, passion flickering in his eyes as I came closer. He shifted to the side, stoppi
ng me from stepping outside. His eyes glittered down at me, heat radiating from him.
He cupped the sides of my face. "Take off the dress."
I kept my eyes on him, letting go of my hold on the material. Watching him drink it up as I pulled it over my hips and let it fall the rest of the way. His eyes worked over the contours of my body and the only thing that kept me from gripping him or doing some physical version of 'now what?' was the fact that I saw he was fighting to keep himself from touching me. From taking me right on the spot.
He stepped to the side and I slid past, willing myself to look at the spanking bench and not the building on the other side of the bustling street.
I concentrated on everything else. How the breeze stroked my naked body, delicious against my alert nerves. The sounds of the city instead of my heart roaring in my ears. The smell of the air. Of Jacob coming up behind me. Of his fingers tracing my spine.
"I wish you could see how beautiful you look, Leila." His voice was so low, stroking me as gently as his fingers. "Have you tried out the bench?”
"Yes sir," I said softly, stepping forward and straddling it. As much as I could anyway. Positioning my body near the end, leg on each side and lowering. There were a few key differences. I'd been clothed then. And even though I'd imagined what it'd be like to ease my body forward until it was flush against the bench and feel him beside me, fantasy paled in comparison to reality.
The strokes lengthened, his path angling toward my bottom until his fingers drew up the rounded curve, kneading it and making me squirm.
"Are you ready?"
I must have said ‘yes sir’ because there would have been repercussions if I hadn't. I was in a daze, lowering myself on the bench.
I strained my neck, fingertips millimeters from the pavement. Tingling. I was completely exposed but I wasn’t thinking about any eyes that could be pointed in our direction. The little voice in my head whispered that my zen at being naked on a bench on the patio was because no one could see me. And if they could, all I could see was the cement.
But it was more than that. I trusted Jacob. And even though I was still coming to terms with the part of me that seemed to love pushing the envelope, doing things that would make the old vanilla part of me blush, it was the fact that I was listening to that side that made me smile. My dark, kinky side. The piece of me that was counting down the seconds, aching for him to spank me.
“Do I need to get restraints?”
“No sir,” I said without hesitation. I would lie there and take it. I wasn’t gonna run. Not that I would get very far anyway since the railing was only a few inches away.
“Good girl,” he said huskily. I shivered when his hand rested on my lower back, pleasure vibrating through me. “You will count...and use your color if you need it.”
The hand was creeping downward, cupping my cheeks and my eyes rolled back in my head. We hadn’t even gotten to the main event and already I felt like I could come on the spot. The hand tightened, a piece of flesh blooming as pain snapped me from my daze.
“Are you listening?” he asked sternly.
Uh oh. “No sir.” I clenched my fists as the pinch intensified, grounding me.
“Don’t let that happen again,” he admonished me.
I squeezed my eyes shut, my body tensing. “I’m sorry.” As soon as ‘sorry’ dropped from my lips he released me and traded the pinch for tender strokes.
“Are you ready to begin?”
I relaxed my fists, fingers spreading out. Trembling with anticipation. “Yes sir.”
The first strike was a whisper, lust curling around me, its slice making my core weep. “One.”
I drew a shaky breath as the second landed, any fog officially cleared as my bottom tingled.
“Three.” The tickle became a sting, pinpricks lighting along the surface.
Four spread them, making me bite my lip.
Five...well, five showed me that this was no game at all. I felt every inch of his hand throbbing against my skin, even after he retracted.
Six and I bit down on my lip, connecting the pain on my behind with the new slice of it that clutched my lip.
Seven and my mouth was open, a silent cry echoing through me. I felt his need to release, to take me to the edge with every strike.
Eight.
Nine.
Ten.
I wanted to hold on, to surrender to the bliss of pain; that moment where the two stark emotions bled into one another. Between my legs I knew I could go there and beyond. I was already spiraling out of control, my climax a word away. But the rest of me was on fire.
“Yellow,” I said hoarsely when we hit seventeen. Louder. “Yellow.”
Eighteen didn’t come and when I heard his footsteps retreat I almost leapt up and told him that I took it back. I missed it. I felt like that was crazy, the rational, thinking part of me wondered what screw was loose that made me entertain the thought of him coming back and wailing on me until I went numb. To abandon everything but the count. To focus on nothing except us. But I didn’t move from the bench, using the moments to breathe, to stretch out my fingers and toes.
His feet reappeared beside me, a finger stroking a curl before I heard the click sound of a top being flipped.
“This may be cold.”
I sucked in a breath behind my teeth as I felt the chill of the medicated lotion, the stuff tingling as it warmed, smoothing away the last tendrils of pain. He bent down beside me, his face level to mine. Blue eyes searched me, the concern making me smile.
“You alright?” My smile broadened just as a tear sprung free and he leaned forward, cupping my cheek as he paled. “God, Leila if it was too much you should have--”
I shook my head adamantly. “It wasn’t. I used it when I needed to.” I felt my nipples aching, the place inside me unfulfilled. “In fact, I, uh...”
His fingers drew to my chin, thumb sweeping across my bottom lip. “You want more, huh?”
I clenched between my legs, nodding enthusiastically. “Yes sir.”
He smirked, his eyes dark with mischief. “You are insatiable, Leila Montgomery.”
I bat my eyelashes at him boldly. “Have you seen yourself lately? I didn’t stand a chance.”
He stood up, gesturing for me to join him. My limbs should have felt like jello but I was so into him, into feeling him that I practically leapt to my feet, feeling sure. Confident. How could I not be with him looking at me that way?
“For curiosity's sake, if I let you take the reins, what would be next?”
My eyes darted to his groin then back up before I asked him coyly, “May I show you?”
“By all means.”
I reached forward, slowly pulling his belt loose and holding onto his heated gaze as I pulled down the zipper. I slid my hand inside his boxers, moaning behind my lips when I gripped him, hand barely able to fit around the engorged bulge. His jaw tightened, still fighting to maintain control but when I started sliding up and down the shaft, his mouth opened as he looked down at me, a low moan hanging in the space between us.
“I want to take you in my mouth,” I said softly.
His lips trembled but his voice was steady and authoritative. Just like I liked it.
“Then get on your knees.”
I lowered my body slowly, bringing his pants with me. They pooled at his feet and he stepped out of them, offering me some barrier between my knees and the cement. Not that I would have felt discomfort. I was focused on nothing other than the way he twitched and throbbed in my hand.
I took him firmly in one hand and leaned forward, tongue dancing over the slit, the velvety taste of him coating my tongue. I let my tongue roam around the mushroom tip, lingering when his muscles flexed and his cock thumped in approval. I brought my other hand to the base of him, pumping in tandem with my mouth. His hand knotted in my hair as he drug me up and down the length. His grip reminded me that even though he was wildly thrusting his hips, a slave to my mouth, he was still running thing
s.
He brought me back to my feet as his balls tightened, heart lurching to my throat. "Inside."
We barely made it back through the door. My fingers were flying down the row of buttons, not stopping until I saw his hardened chest. It was discarded, the boxers next as we dashed up the staircase. He spun me around and slammed me against the wall, inches from the bed. We were so close but he was already spreading me, fingers plunging inside like he was tired of waiting. I leaned back against the wall, neck fully exposed as I swirled my hips. The fingers were so deep that I was gasping for air, hands clawing at his chest as he filled me before retreating. Eyes watching. Love burning in the blue.
He drove his digits in me, voice deep as sin, speaking the fact of my state of climax. “You’re close.”
I couldn’t speak so I shook my head and moaned.
He pulled me from the wall and threw me onto the bed, chest heaving. Every beautiful, hardened vein popped beneath the skin of him.
When I brought my knees up his eyes devoured the heat between my legs before he rushed into the divide, spreading me as he gripped my hips and thrust inside of my sex.
The feel of him moving, pounding me into the mattress coursed as wildly as the blood in my veins. Every inch brought a new sensation.
As soon as my eyes fluttered closed, I snapped them back open and he smiled his approval. He wanted to look at me, peel back every layer until there was only me. And it wasn't a one sided thing. As he rocked into me, he let me know him. See things no one else got to see. The raw emotion that rippled across his face. Wide open vulnerability. The truth that a man with everything guarded but couldn’t hide when we were so close our souls touched.
He plunged deeper, filling me to the hilt.
“If I ever lost you...” He slowly drew out and slammed back inside me, a moan ripping through his body. It was raw emotion. Anguish. Need.