Glancing up, I opened my mouth to tell Lucy more about Brie. To tell her everything. How Brie died. Why she committed suicide. How we met. Where I proposed, when I proposed.
Lucy pressed her fingers to my mouth and a single tear rolled down her cheek.
“I see it in your face,” she whispered. “Something shifted. But whatever just happened here,” she brushed her fingertips to my forehead. “And in here,” she moved those fingers to my breastbone, right above where my heart slammed against her palm. “Keep it between you and Brie for now. I want to know everything eventually. But right now? This moment is meant for you two.”
She brushed her fingers over where my hands were clasping Brie’s ring on my pinky finger and for the first time in ages, the gold felt warm, not chilled.
“How did you know—”
“When someone’s been burned, you can smell smoke,” she whispered.
I’ve heard that before. That phrase. Richard said it to me once and I’ve been using it ever since.
But my thoughts were quickly diverted as Lucy ran her fingers down the back of my neck. The pressure was barely there and yet, it had every centimeter of flesh burning a path of excitement and nerves with that pressure.
Tucking a piece of hair behind her ear, I kissed her, my lips gliding over hers. Even though I was the Dominant, she was claiming me. Owning me. No matter if I was the one doing the spanking or not, I was a goner. My heart belonged to her now and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it. Nor did I want to. A piece of my heart would always be with Brie, but loving Lucy didn't make my love for Brie any less potent. She was the whole reason I could love Lucy, too. Without Brie, I never could have been there for Lucy how she needed me to be. Brie would always be a part of this relationship.
Standing, I took her in my arms, cradling her like we were walking across the threshold. She squealed and giggled as I moved across the room, my lips still latched to hers.
“Where are we going?” she asked, panting against my lips.
“My room. We need more privacy.”
“Mr. Livingston, are you worried about having to share me?”
A growl vibrated at the back of my throat before I could even stop it. The very thought of another man having her had animal-like instincts taking hold of my body.
She chuckled. “Isn’t it obvious by now?” Lucy asked, nipping at the base of my neck. Then, whispering in my ear, she whispered, “I’m yours.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Lucy
Ash stopped in front of a room, setting me down and pulled out a key card. He unlocked, then opened the door in front of us.
I wanted my tongue all over his body. I wanted his hands smacking my ass. And his mouth between my legs. He held the door open for me, and I walked carefully into the dark room, knowing everything was about to change. I was entering this world blindly, trusting Ash. Only Ash.
He followed me inside, shutting the door behind him, and turned on the light.
I blinked, looking around the large room. It looked like a studio apartment with smooth walls painted a dusty gray and white-accented crown molding. The fourposter bed was pushed to the furthest corner of the room. The corners of the navy and white comforter were tucked tightly into the mattress and ornate decorative pillows were assembled neatly at the headboard. The color combination was almost nautical-looking, and with those perfectly tucked corners, I couldn’t help but wonder if Ash had a cleaning lady.
Across from the bed were three doors. One in the middle, slightly ajar, looked like a bathroom. The walls were bare, with the exception of two sconces lighting the room in a warm, sexy light.
I swallowed, moving tentatively around the room. “May I…?” I asked, pointing to a door in the corner.
He gave me a tight nod, and I turned the knob, opening up a closet. A massive closet. Some clothes hung in the back—a couple suits, some ties, jeans, and shirts. A few female garments hung as well. Corsets, skirts of varying sizes, panties, that sort of thing.
The rest of the closet held toys… though the word “toys” didn’t seem to denote the right thing. They were torture devices. Paddles, flogs, riding crops, both large and small. It was equal parts terrifying and exciting.
I backed out of the closet, not sure of how I felt about it yet.
“The next door is the bathroom, if you need it,” Ash offered.
“And this door?” I asked, pointing to the door on the other side of the bathroom.
“That’s to the submissive’s room.”
I touched my fingertips to my chest. “My room?”
“No.” Ash was in front of me in moments, breathing heavily as he stared down. “That room was solely for the submissives I didn’t want to sleep in the same bed with. It’s only yours if you need a little time alone.”
I swallowed. Time alone? Why would I need time alone? “Is that what Brie used it for?”
His face softened. “Brie hardly ever used it. Once or twice, she would go in there to have a little quiet time. Sometimes that’s needed after an intense scene. But she never slept in there. And I’d prefer you to not sleep in there, either. Unless you feel you need to.”
I nodded. I didn’t want to sleep in there. I wanted to be here with Ash. In his bed. In his life.
Moving first to a small kitchen in the corner, he poured himself a scotch, then took a spherical ball of ice from the freezer and dropped it inside. As he crossed the room back toward me, the ice hit the sides of his glass with a click, like the sound of heels against marble.
“You ready?”
I nodded.
“Words, Lucy.”
“I’m ready.” I was so ready. His touch against my lower back was gentle, and in a sweeping motion, he had my T-shirt over my head and discarded on the floor. Then with a tug, my jeans were unzipped, pooling at my ankles.
His fingers, wet and cold from the sweating tumbler of scotch, brushed between my shoulder blades. With a pinch, my bra snapped open and I shivered as the red lace straps scraped down over my goose-pimpled arms.
Ash took a step back, and sat on the corner of his bed. He stared at me, his eyes roaming over my nearly naked body. With the exception of my red lace panties and ballet flats, I was completely nude.
And completely out of place.
He took a sip of his scotch and everything about him was totally and utterly in control. But his eyes, those intense eyes, stared me down like I was the most decadent piece of cake on the dessert table. His cock strained against his pants, pushing, pulsing toward me.
A breeze brushed over my body, pulling my gaze to a dresser where a pearl necklace lay draped across a black velvet bust, like a shrine. Instinctually I knew it was Brie’s.
"Are you avoiding my gaze?" Ash asked.
I jerked my attention back to Ash. "No," I answered, with a rush of air.
His eyes drifted to the pearl necklace as well. “It was Brie’s collar. She wanted something she could wear and not look too conspicuous.”
“It’s beautiful.”
“Would you like one?”
“A pearl necklace?”
A wry grin twisted his mouth. “A collar.”
I scrunched my nose. I knew from our movie that getting collared was huge. Like… engagement level huge for people in the BDSM community. “I don’t wear a lot of jewelry,” I said, not really answering his question. And from the look on his face, he knew I was avoiding the question. I just couldn’t see myself wearing pearls. Or diamonds. Or a traditional collar like that woman I saw in LnS the first night Ash and I hung out. It didn’t feel like me. “But maybe. If it was the right piece. And if I didn’t feel like I was being forced to wear it.”
Ash's lips parted, his eyes lighting. “Never,” he said, pushing to his feet. “Never forced. And I wasn’t officially asking you… yet. I was just curious if it was something you’d be open to.”
“Then… yes. I would be open to it.”
I glanced around Ash’s impeccably desig
ned room and sighed.
“What’s wrong?”
“You’re just—you’re so glamorous. All Hollywood glitz with your cherrywood fourposter bed and your polo shirts that cost a whole month’s rent for me. We’re like from two different worlds. It’s like you’re gold—fancy and shiny—and I’m silver. Plain, boring silver.”
Ash crossed to me, and paused, towering over me. “You’re not silver, Luciana Rodriguez. You’re platinum. Classic. Beautiful. And you never go out of style.”
I snorted, dropping my gaze to the floor, but his finger caught my chin, pulling my eyes back to his. “Silver is a soft metal that tarnishes, wears down, and damages easily. Platinum on the other hand is gorgeous, yet durable.” He bent, brushing his lips across mine. “So, while you might be right that I’m gold, you Lucy Rodriguez are not silver. You are platinum.”
Warmth spiraled down my core and I gasped at his meaningful words. After another lingering kiss, he circled around back of me. He kissed my neck, his tongue circling the curve where it turned into my shoulder. “You remember your safewords?”
I nodded. “Red for stop. Yellow for slow down. Green for yes.”
"Okay then." Placing the edge of the glass to my lips, he tipped it and commanded, "Drink." I did as I was told, parting my lips and swallowing the cold, amber liquid down my throat. He took the large swallow himself, then repeated the action, placing it once again to my lips. “We’re not going to get drunk. This scotch is the only one either of us gets tonight.”
He repeated this three more times, having me sip, then him sip, until the glass was empty with the exception of the half-melted spherical ice cube. Hooking his fingers into my panties, he tugged, allowing them to snap back against my skin. "Take these off."
I did as I was told, tossing them onto the pile of my other clothes. Then, I kicked off my ballet flats, assuming he'd want those gone to.
His eyes shifted the discarded shoes and he lifted an eyebrow. “Simon didn't say remove your shoes.” Then, moving behind me, a swift, sharp slap stung against my backside.
I gasped, the air pulling tightly into my lungs.
“Hands behind your back.”
It was hard to imagine this being fun with anyone except Ash. But as I felt the slick moisture gathering between my thighs, I tucked my hands together at the small of my back, waiting for the next demand.
Dipping his hands into the empty tumbler, he pulled out the ice cube and pressed it between my lips.
“Open,” he demanded. “Hold it in your lips.”
I opened, taking the round ice cube between my teeth wrapping my lips around it.
Setting the glass on the floor, he cupped my breast, bending, and sucking on the other. My nipple pebbled into a tight nub within his mouth, cold from the chilled scotch. He nipped on the hard tip, pulling out with his teeth while he palmed my other breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers.
A groan of pleasure came from deep within me. It wasn't very loud, the ice cube muffled it.
Between the warmth of my lips, tongue, and mouth, the ice melted, dripping a path of frigid water down over my breasts. The droplets fell like tears, and I swallowed what I could of the ice as it melted.
Ash fell to his knees, spreading my legs, and pressing a kiss just inside of my knee. He looked up at me, his blue eyes wide and his hand-raked hair tousled. “If you drop that ice cube,” he said, “you're in trouble. Remember, I own your orgasms. And I don't want you coming until that ice cube has melted entirely.”
I tightened my grip on my wrists behind my back. It’s not like I could answer him here like this—hands locked, mouth full. He seemed to count on that because he didn’t wait for my answer before diving between my legs and nipping the inside of my thigh.
I yelped, the ice nearly slipping from between my teeth. I wrapped my lips tighter around the melting sphere, swallowing the cold, run-off water. My lips were numb; but my cold tongue was a welcome contrast to the rest of my heated body.
Placing a thumb on either side of my sex, Ash spread me wide, blowing warm air over my clit. His eyes were closed as he flicked out his tongue, sampling me from my wet opening to the crest of my clit in a long, slow lick. He did the same thing again, only this time harder and faster until he was lapping at my tight nub like a kitten at a bowl of milk.
Sliding his index finger into my slick heat, he pushed deep inside, stroking the bundle of nerves deep at my core. My knees trembled with restraint and a whimpered cry escaped past the ice. It was already half the size as when he first put it in my mouth. But I still had a long way to go. The icy droplets of water fell down my beaded nipples and over my stomach like a winter rain. A few made it as far down as my pubic bone, and Ash pulled back, examining the streams of water. With his free hand, he dragged some of the water down to my clit, using the extra beads of moisture to work into his quickening movements.
He pumped his fingers in and out of me, faster, and his tongue matched the pace.
My sex ached, throbbing to be filled. The pounding hunger was consuming. I needed to come. I needed to come now. The trembling of my knees intensified and the spasms moved up my thighs. The ice was too intense. His tongue was too intense. His touch was too intense. He was too intense.
I felt like a damaged pane of glass that only needed a tap to send all the pieces cascading to the ground in a messy heap. One little touch could send me spiraling.
Wrapping his lips around my clit, Ash drew me into his mouth, moving his tongue in rapid circles. Hollowing his cheeks, he sucked, pulling away and pressing a gentle kiss to me before looking up into my eyes. As I looked down at him, my glasses slipped to the end of my nose.
“What is it?” he asked, humor flashing in those eyes. “What do you want, Lucy?”
I cried out, a muffled “Please,” but it wasn’t understandable. Not even a little with the ice blocking my tongue from movement.
“What was that?”
I tried again, helplessly, and he pushed his fingers deeper inside as I attempted to speak.
“Hmmm,” Ash said. “I don’t know if you want it enough.”
My chest heaved in a movement that was half sigh, half sob. I wanted it. I so fucking wanted it.
“You want to come?”
I nodded, pleading to Ash with my eyes as best as I could.
The melting ice cube was now the size of a dum-dum lollipop, small enough that I could suck it into my mouth and chew the rest of it in a couple of crunches. But I was pretty sure that would be cheating. And as badly as I wanted to be spanked again, as much as I enjoyed the dirtiness of his hand connecting with my ass, I also wanted to please Ash. I wanted to be good for him. And I really, really wanted that orgasm.
He latched his mouth back to my clit once more, his eyes remaining on me. Every inch of my body felt like it was on fire; even the parts of me that were covered in melted ice felt steaming hot. I was so close to orgasm. It was right there in front of me. All I had to do was let go and it could be mine. “Please, I want to come,” I managed to say, holding the small sphere of ice in my teeth.
“I want you to come,” Ash said. “I want to swallow your orgasm. But not until that ice has melted.”
I moaned in frustration. My hands itched to grasp his hair. Hold his shoulders. Steady my quivering body on his strong, firm one.
“I can’t wait to have my cock in this tight pussy,” Ash said, then flattened his tongue across my clit in a hard, slow stroke.
I couldn’t hold on any longer. That one sentence made me lose control and my knees gave out on me, buckling. No, not yet, I scolded myself, squeezing my eyes together and trying to stave off the inevitable. But it was too late. I released my hands from behind me, catching myself on Ash’s shoulders before I fell. Nerve endings surged down my body and a blast of fire erupted between my legs. Sweaty tendrils of hair were sticking to my neck.
Everything in my vision turned a crimson red as I closed my eyes and little bolts of pleasure jolted through my body. The
orgasm rolled over me in pulsing waves, and as I opened my mouth to cry out, the tiny piece of ice fell from my lips onto Ash’s opened hand.
Like he was ready for it. Like he knew I would fail.
From below me, I heard Ash’s groan as my orgasm finally slowed and I blinked my eyes back open. He clutched my body to his as he stood to his feet. “Fucking hell, Lucy.”
I opened my mouth to speak, but only air rushed out.
“You were this close,” Ash said with a smile, pinching his fingers together.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Ash
You… you did that on purpose,” Lucy said, her breath still ragged, erratic. “You knew I would fail.”
I grinned. No matter what had happened, we were still in a win-win scenario. “It was my job to try and make you come. It was your job to hold off until that ice melted. Guess I’m just better at my job.”
She lifted a hand, smacking my arm and glared at me, daggers in her eyes.
I hissed, a noise of both disapproval and anticipation. “Time for your punishment.” Leaning in, I nibbled at my favorite spot—the base of her ear. Well, second favorite spot, maybe. “And I dare you to hit me again while in this room.”
Her eyes lit up and she moved to back away from me, but I just held her tighter, pulling her pelvis against mine. My cock was so fucking hard, I was surprised I hadn’t split the front seam of my pants. “This is playtime, remember?” I whispered, as a reminder. Just in case. Something told me Lucy needed the constant reminders. The punishments weren’t real. The anger wasn’t real.
She nodded. “Green.”
I sighed, relieved at the use of her word. Not only its use… but its proper use. She was learning. And God, that felt good. “I want you on the bed.” I released my hold on her and she scrambled for the bed, sitting at the edge.
Moving swiftly, I walked to my closet and swung open the door. Some people have goodie drawers? Here at LnS, you get a whole damn closet. Dragging my fingers across the various paddles, I settled on a flogger. Its tassels were made of leather straps, and wouldn’t hurt as much as the thicker, heavier leather flogger I also had. She wasn’t ready for that yet.
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