Now I know she wants me for me. “Now, I’m still scared. But optimistic.”
“Me too.”
Part of me just wants to just sit there and cuddle her warm, naked body. The rest of me wants to play. But there's more to discuss. And after her admission about feeling ridiculous and embarrassed, I need to tread very carefully.
“So, Secretary? What did you think of it?”
Hands down, my favourite thing about Ellie is her honesty. When asked a direct question, she always answers, and fully. She's the least political person I've ever met in that regard. I can feel her tense up, but she doesn't hesitate to tell me the truth. “A lot of mixed up feelings. It was different than I expected. But there were parts that were pretty hot.”
Promising. “Like what?”
“When she’s reading the letter bent over the desk while he spanks her.”
Promising, indeed. “And the second typo you added to my speech? Was that you asking for a spanking?”
She smirks and lifts an eyebrow, an unusual expression for her, but I think she’s a little smug about this. “Maybe.”
It’s adorable, of course, but I can’t let her get away with that. “Communication is key, here, Ellie. Maybe doesn’t cut it.”
“I don’t know. But I want to find out.”
Now we’re getting somewhere. “That works. What else did you find hot?”
“When she got praise for doing things right.”
“Did you like it when I called you a good girl?”
She nods her head up and down.
“I need words, Sprite.”
“Yes, Sir.”
My cock twitches eagerly. I ignore it and kiss her on the head. “Very nice. What didn’t you find hot?”
“I didn't like that she didn't fully understand what it was they were doing at first. But it's not like it was a healthy relationship at the start, was it?"
"No." I rub my lips against her temple. "And that's a key difference between BDSM in film and literature and real life. Although everyone is different, of course."
"What about you? Because the saddle thing. Total hard limit for me.”
I laugh. “Fair enough. No pony play." I tease her a little. "I can live without it.”
“Pony play? That’s what it’s called? I’m sure I saw that somewhere during my research. Maybe—”
“I’m teasing,” I cut her off. Jesus, she's so earnest it hurts. I bet she thought about it from every angle so she'd make sure not to sound judgemental. “Pony play is not my kink. Back on topic, Ms. Montague, or we won’t find out if you like being spanked, and that would be a disappointment for us both.”
“What is your kink?”
“I have plenty. Dominance and submission. Power Exchange, to a degree, but I’m only into kneeling if there’s a blowjob involved and I don’t answer to Master. Oddly, Sir never did it for me until I met you. I like it, Sprite. A lot. It's a gift you give me, one that I treasure."
She smiles into my neck. I feel her lips curl and I make a mental note that she likes acknowledgement.
My cock is throbbing now, but I need to get through this. List everything I can think of so I can feel her response inside the circle of my arms. "Some light bondage. Impact play. Mostly I like to spank with my bare hand, but I do like to play with floggers and paddles on occasion. I’m not into punishment, though. So, if you’re looking for a spanking, you won’t get it by adding typos to my speeches.”
“I’m sorry, Sir.”
“Nothing to be sorry for, Sprite. You were testing things out, and on the whole, you did a pretty good job of pushing my buttons. I think it’s time to see what pushes your buttons.” I loosen my hold on her. “Up you get.”
She climbs off my lap and for a moment I consider having her turn over my knee so I can spank her right here. But once I get started, I’m not going to want to relocate. Besides, my newly acquired stash of condoms is in my bedroom. Boy, do I owe Max big for taking care of the sensitive purchases for me.
“Bring your clothes with you.”
She follows me upstairs to my bedroom. I decorated it out of my own pocket, and by decorated, I mean I bought an awesome four-poster bed and some comfortable chairs. The bed is the perfect height for so many things, none of which have been tested before tonight.
The chairs will come in handy for us at some point in the future, too.
I had no idea I designed my bedroom to fuck Ellie Montague, but now that she's standing in the middle of it, I never want her to leave.
“Put your clothes on the chair, then bend over the end of the bed."
“Yes, Sir.” She saunters across the room like she owns the place. No self-consciousness about that beautiful body of hers.
She drapes her dress over the back of the chair and carefully sets her shoes under the seat. I watch her position herself on the bed as I remove my shirt and tie. I choose to leave my pants on for now. I want to keep her at a slight disadvantage.
“Your safeword is stop, or don’t, or anything that sounds or even looks to me like you’re not having a good time. Understand?”
“Yes, Sir.”
Don’t let me fuck this up.
I stand behind her. Close, but not touching. Like I’d done yesterday when she was looking out the window. My heart is racing as I reach down and stroke the creamy skin of her ass. First one cheek, then the other.
I take a step back and slightly to the side so I have more room to work. I pull my hand back and lay a firm slap on one cheek. Hard enough for her to feel a little sting. She lets out a small squeak, then a moan as I rub circles over the spot. I do the same to the other cheek. No squeak this time, just a low moan while her hips grind against the mattress.
She’s got the most beautiful ass. And now it’s marked with my hand prints.
I rub her right cheek and down her thigh, then slide back up between her legs, my fingers sweeping along her seam. Just a whisper of a touch, but she spreads her legs. Eager again. Fuck me, she's perfect.
"Hold still," I admonish, touching the outside of her thighs firmly. "Hold your position and I'll reward you."
A rough jerk of her head accompanies a mumbled apology and I lean over her, kissing her shoulder as I gather her hair again, twisting the silky smooth strands together.
I want her to braid her hair one night so I can tug on the heavy plait as I train her throat. I add it to the growing list of specific scenes I imagine us enjoying together.
"You're beautiful," I murmur as I lay another series of lazy swats on her backside. "Your ass is turning the prettiest shade of pink."
A whimper. Her fists squeeze against the bedspread, not in reaction to the spanking, but my words.
"Do you like that?" I rub my erection through my suit pants as I wait for her answer. "Sprite?"
She whispers something.
I tap a new spot on her bottom, harder this time. "I can't hear you."
"Yes," she gasps. "Please…"
Another dip of my fingers into her folds covers my hand in pussy juice.
"You're soaked," I say, and my voice is rough. My muscles strain as I cup my hand and deliver a new round of stinging, warm spanks against her ass. Each one makes her arch her hips into the heat. "You're bent over my bed, dripping wet because I'm spanking you. And you like it."
Another whisper.
My cock throbs as I lean over her. "What was that?"
"I love it," she says more clearly. There's wonder in her voice. I've given her this. She pushed me so hard to show her what I like. Why did I doubt that she might be a natural?
My dirty girl.
"Good." My voice is rough, raw. The primal part of me that craves this is taking over, fuelled by her scent and her sounds.
I've waited long enough for a taste.
I turn her onto her back and sink to my knees as I lose myself in her perfection. I had no doubt she was a cute red-head from head to toe, but it pleases me enormously that she’s done nothing to hide it.
; I want to spread her wide open and tie her legs to the posts of my bed. I settle for covering as much of the creamy pale skin of her inner thighs as I can with my hands and pressing her legs up and out.
She's perfect.
I can feel her eyes on me as I dip my head low and snake my tongue through her folds for the first time.
She's swollen and pink, slippery and delicious. I lap up the proof of how much she enjoyed my brand on her ass, then set about showing her that this, too, can be about submission.
Her orgasm still belongs to me, although I'm not telling her that tonight. She can come whenever she wants, as many times as she wants. I'll ease her into the fact that I want that control.
When I'm done showing her how good it can be, and what the pay-off is for her, it'll be something she gives me freely.
Or not. I shove that thought away. She's a natural. She's mine. We'll find the places where our kinks intersect and play there.
I suck harder on her flesh, making her gasp. She floods my fingers, too. I stroke inside her, one finger first, then two. I want to give her three and stretch her to the point of aching, but there's time for that tomorrow.
And there's still so much of her body for me to explore. I give her clit one last lingering kiss, promising to return, then I lick my way up her body.
"Play with yourself, Sprite." I settle on my side next to her so I can watch.
Her breath is shallow and weak as she skims her hand down her quivering belly.
"Wait."
She stops immediately. Fuck, I love that response. How it's instantaneous and without question. Makes me hard. Makes me want to climb on top of her and take her without another moment passing.
"Slowly."
"Yes, Sir."
I kiss her because I can't help myself. Because she tastes like sun-warm raspberries fresh out of the garden. Because of the sounds she makes when I thrust my tongue against her. Because I need to be inside her and I need to wait and the tension there is killing me.
I push away from her just long enough to stand at the foot of the bed and strip out of my pants. Watching her leisurely stroke her fingers around her clit is a sweet bonus. "Is that what you like?"
She pinks up as she nods. "Yes."
"Do you ever put your fingers inside yourself?"
She shakes her head. "No, Sir."
"Why not?" I'm naked now and I prowl closer, leaning against the posts of the bed. The sight is hypnotic.
"It doesn't feel the same."
"As?"
"As I imagined your fingers would."
That little admission—she'd thought about me fingering her—has me vaulting onto the bed. My fingers are inside her before my mouth crashes against hers. She's still rubbing her clit as I fuck into her with two fingers. I need to slow down and learn her body, but she drives me insane. Maybe once I claim every last inch of her I'll have more control over this raging need to possess her.
"Like this?"
"Yes."
"You’ve thought about this?"
"Yes."
"And is it as good as you imagined?"
She gasps and rolls her hips into my touch. "So much better."
She's going to come. I want that. I want to feel her spasm around my fingers. I want to feel her spill all over my hand.
But I had a plan.
What the hell happened to my plan?
Ellie happened.
Gorgeous, responsive, eager as hell Ellie.
"Slow down," I rasp, finding my senses. I ease my fingers out of her snug channel and she protests. "Shhh. Trust me."
She presses her lips together and nods.
I suck my fingers into my mouth, enjoying another taste of her. Never enough. New plan. I'm going to find out how much nipple play she likes, then I'm eating her out until she comes on my face.
My fingers are still wet and sticky, so I paint her nipples with them, then lean over her and suck, back and forth, until she's panting and her peaks are puffy and swollen. She’s the perfect picture of a debauched woman, warmed up and restless for more.
I pinch and pull one nipple while sucking on the other one. Switch. Repeat. I hold myself back from testing her limits, and I tell myself it's because I want to go easy on her.
Don't want to scare her.
But there's nothing about this woman that says she's scared.
She's writhing and stilling herself when she remembers. She's trying so, so hard to be good.
I reward her by working my way back to between her thighs and sucking her clit hard into my mouth.
Her thighs shake and she cries out my name. I give her my fingers, and two strokes in, I feel her climax begin, a tightening inside her that makes my dick pound against the mattress. He knows he's missing out, but we're going to make her do that all over again soon enough.
And again.
Over and over again.
Because when Ellie comes, it's a gorgeous fucking thing.
She's trembling as I grab a condom and fit myself between her legs.
No secrets. No made-up rules or artificial boundaries.
I want to say no limits, but fuck, I'm still worried I'll scare her off.
But as I sink into her, as she wraps her legs around me and welcomes me into her body, none of that matters. I'm drowning in her pretty eyes and being saved by the clarion call of my name on her lips, breathless and pleading.
Lost and found, rolling in an ocean of sex and desire. Our hands twist together as I surge into her. Her legs pull up on either side of me and she whispers, "Deeper."
Harder.
Faster.
A million emotions roll across her face as I do all that and more. Slower. Cruel, short little pumps, giving her just the tip of my cock. She's so wet, but it's a damn tease, because I think I'm going to slide right in, but every time, she's tight. Every time, I stretch her and she cries out.
And still she wants it deeper.
I hitch one of her legs a little higher, reaching down her body to give her a swat where I pinked up her ass before.
"Gavin…"
Yes. My name, over and over again. I want to hear her scream it as I come deep inside her. "This is just the start," I whisper as I press into her, holding her down. "I never want to stop fucking you."
“Yes,” she breathes, her eyes bright and her lips wet.
I spank her again and her breath hitches. "Like that?"
"Love it."
"Gonna come for me?"
"Yes."
"Yes what?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Come for me, Ellie." Swat. "Give it to me."
She wraps her arms around my neck as I fuck her faster, roughly now, deep and grinding, and on the next slap of my palm against her skin, she clenches all around me. This time her climax is the shockwave of an explosion, and I'm caught up in it.
I shout her name as I jerk inside her, burying my cock deep in her pussy. Mine. I come hard and fast, and blackness darkens the corners of my vision.
Drowning.
Broken into a million pieces.
There isn't a metaphor in the world for what Ellie's done to me.
After I get rid of the condom, I roll her onto her side, spooning her from behind as she sighs and snuggles close. She's blissed out and I'm…messed up. But in the best way. I cup her breast possessively and bury my face in her hair.
That was so much more than I expected. And we've hardly scratched the surface of what I want from her. What I want to give her.
My Sprite.
I close my eyes, hating the flood of competing thoughts that are trying to crowd into this moment. They can't have me yet. I'm still hers right now. I'm going to hold her until she falls asleep. She hardly needs aftercare after what we did, but while we didn't do a scene and push her into subspace, we did something.
Intense in a different way.
If I'm reeling, maybe she is, too. But she's wiped out and it's our first date, so I can hardly roll her over and say, "So hey, that was c
razy emotional and maybe I more than like you…cool?"
Not cool.
I grin. No, when it comes to Ellie I have zero game. I'm the classic lovesick idiot. And that's probably going to be my undoing, but I don't care. I've waited nearly forty years to meet her, and now that she's in my bed I'm never letting go.
18
Ellie
I wake up in Gavin’s bed. It’s early-ish, although I don’t see a clock anywhere and God only knows where my phone is. I didn’t bring my purse upstairs with me last night.
Rolling over, I look at the prime minister.
My lover.
Holy crap.
Last night wasn’t at all what I expected it would be. It was just…real and natural. And hot. Very, very hot.
I press my thighs together. For all I know he has a full day of official duties today. But God, I want to do it again.
He’s fast asleep. He doesn’t even move when I touch his face. His stubble catches on my finger pads, sending shivers down my spine, and even as the deliciously wicked licks of feeling curl under my bottom and between my legs, I’m pulling my hand back.
The urge to molest him is strong, but I need to wash up first. I slide out from under the incredibly nice bedding and reach for my clothes.
Oh, God.
No. I cannot wear my dress. I can’t wear it downstairs to discover if he’s got a coffee maker I can figure out, let alone home.
And how the heck am I getting home, anyway?
Intern Does Walk of Shame Out of 24 Sussex. More at 11.
Last night, we were the only people in the house. Is that still true? I could go to the bathroom naked but Intern Discovered Streaking Past 24 Sussex Staff is another headline I’d like to avoid.
Gavin’s shirt is on the chair next to my dress. I pull that on, smiling as the faint whiff of his scent wraps around me. Then I tiptoe into the hallway, listening for any hint that I’m about to encounter someone who isn’t expecting me.
I find a washroom first, then take a few tentative steps down the curving staircase.
“Good morning. Can I assist you in any way?” Lachlan steps into view at the base of the stairs and I press Gavin’s shirt tight to my body.
“Hi.”
He gives me a friendly nod and gestures down the hall. “I put coffee on for the prime minister.”
Prime Minister (Frisky Beavers #1) Page 11