by Andra Lake
He took my ear in his mouth, nibbling it gently. “I’m sure it is.”
I wrapped my arms around him and under his shirt, placing my icy hands against his warm back. He flinched slightly and moved his mouth to my neck.
“Be careful.”
“I’m not afraid of you,” I whispered.
I felt his grin against the sensitive skin of my neck. “That was the wrong thing to say.”
In a second I was over his shoulder, watching his backside as he carried me out of the study and into his bedroom, where he tossed me onto the bed and went into his closet. I instantly moved to get off the bed and followed him, but his voice boomed.
“Don’t you dare move, Miss Clair.”
He emerged, swinging a pair of handcuffs around his index finger. My eyes widened and I scooted back on the bed, eliciting a chuckle from Dallon King.
“You don’t look like you’re not afraid of me.”
I jutted my chin out and crossed my arms. “That was before you grabbed a pair of handcuffs. What were they doing in your closet, anyway? Or do I not want to know?”
His eyes flashed for a moment. “For your information, these are brand new. All of my other…” he waved an arm before continuing, “sexcapades, as you called them, occurred in my studio.” He cocked his head to the side. “Should we go there and document this?”
“No!” I cried, grabbing a pillow and putting it in front of me like a shield.
He sat down beside me on the bed, his voice softening as he said, “Last night was my first time in here.”
Wow. I relaxed slightly and let the pillow drop. In that instant, Dallon grabbed a hold of my left wrist. The handcuff clicked closed around it.
Our eyes met, and I narrowed mine, challenging him.
“Lie down and put your hands above your head.”
“No.”
His eyes closed and his lips turned up in a small smile. When he opened them again, they had hardened. “Do what I say, Amy. Don’t make me ask again, or I’ll take you over my knee.”
I glared at him but lay back, letting him secure my right wrist before he guided my hands over my head. Then he straddled me, pulled my dress over my head and over my eyes. Next, he followed with my bra.
“Do you want to be able to see, Amy?”
“Yes.”
“Yes what?”
“Yes, I want to be able to see.”
“That’s not what I meant, Amy.” His tone had changed, but I couldn’t see his face to read his expression.
“I think you know what I want you to call me,” he said eventually.
My heart rate quickened. What was he talking about?
“Come on, Amy.” He leaned forward, pressed his lips gently against mine and moved them back and forth slowly, teasing me. My lips parted and he sat back abruptly.
“You’re making me angry.”
“I don’t understand what you want!”
I felt him tug on my dress, and then I could see him. He was looking at me with an expression I hadn’t seen before; his eyes were hard like they were in his dominant mode, but he somehow also looked vulnerable. Like he needed something and I was refusing to give it to him.
Suddenly, he fell forward, his arms encircling mine, his hands on my wrists.
“Yes what?”
My heart skipped a beat as realization dawned. “Has anyone called you that before?” I asked in a whisper.
“No, Amy. Like I said, I’ve never been in this type of relationship before.”
I shifted and his grip tightened on my wrists.
“Say it,” he said in a softly daring voice.
I bit my lip, my cheeks flushing crimson. How could it be that one, small word could embarrass me so much?
“Very well.” He leaned down and took a nipple in his mouth. “Say it,” he said, my nipple in his teeth.
In response, I glared at him.
He didn’t hesitate; his teeth clenched. Hard.
“Ahh!” I cried out, thrashing beneath him.
“Looks like we’re doing it the hard way.” His mouth moved to my next nipple, and he looked at me expectantly.
I couldn’t. It was humiliating.
A single eyebrow rose.
I closed my eyes and clenched my jaw, preparing myself.
He made a tutting noise and bit my other nipple, this time taking longer to release me while I fought beneath him.
“What the hell!” I yelled, beyond enraged.
“Watch your language.” His grip tightened on my wrists. “I can do this all night, Miss Clair.”
He leaned forward and blew on my first nipple, which was now standing at attention. Then he licked it slowly, teasingly, before taking it into his mouth.
“Sir,” I relented in a barely audible voice.
“What’s that?” I felt his teeth graze my sensitive skin.
“Sir!”
He grinned and sat back. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”
Afraid of not responding, and embarrassed, I grunted something incoherent. My cheeks were burning.
He laughed. “You’re so proud, Amy. I love that.”
Grinning, he released my wrists and sat up again. I was seething. He was enjoying this way too much.
“I’m going to make you say it until you stop blushing. Calling me that is going to become second nature to you, understood?”
I nodded.
His eyes narrowed.
“Yes… Sir.” I instantly blushed again and looked away.
“Oh I love it when you blush,” he whispered, his lips claiming mine. He released his hold on my wrists and sat up again. “I also love it when you wear dresses. Such easy access.”
His finger slipped past my laced thong and inside me, a slow smile spreading across his lips at finding me wet again, I had no doubt.
“I’m going to give you a congratulations present,” he murmured, his finger moving in and out of me.
“You already gave me one,” I replied breathlessly. “The wine.”
He smirked. “Not the kind of present I was referring to.” He grasped my legs and pulled them apart before moving between them, his tongue tracing my cleft.
“No!” I cried out, trying to sit up but restrained by the cuffs.
Dallon shot me a hard look. “Lie still. You’ll only hurt yourself.”
As his tongue caressed me again, I closed my eyes and willed myself to relax. It didn’t take long; his tongue fluttered over my clit and the heat grew inside me. Our eyes locked on each other as my hands grasped the duvet beneath me, squeezing tightly. I couldn’t look away from him. He rimmed my slit, teasing me, massaged and then sucked at me gently until I fell apart, my muscles tightening greedily. I cried out as triumph flared in his eyes. In that moment, I would do anything he wanted, and he knew it. He owned me. My hands grasped his hair desperately, but he continued mercilessly as I thrashed against him.
He released my thong, letting it move back into place, and pressed kisses up my stomach and breasts, pausing to lick my sore nipples before undoing the handcuffs and gathering me to him. I was pliable, a rag doll in his arms as he pulled me into his lap, his erection pressing into me and betraying how close he was to the edge.
“I can…. We can…” I began sleepily.
“Shh,” he whispered, pressing his lips against my forehead. “I wanted to do something for you.”
I closed my eyes against his chest, barely noticing his movements as he pulled the covers back and placed me in bed.
“Rest now. I’m going to do some more work and will wake you in a bit.”
I woke on my own a while later and found Dallon hard at work in his study. He looked up when I entered and smiled. I walked around his desk to sit on his lap. He leaned forward and kissed my neck.
“Don’t you usually go into the office?”
“I’ve been trying to spend more time here with you,” he said softly. “I had some meetings this morning but the rest I can do at home.” He rubbed his eyes and l
eaned back in his chair. “I’m meeting Brendan this evening and would like you to come with me.”
“Okay,” I said, surprised.
He smiled and put his arms around me. “I’m pretty sure he thinks I’m gay because he’s never seen me with a woman.”
“It’s fine, I can be your beard,” I winked.
“Funny,” he responded, clearly not amused. “Are you any good at basketball?”
I thought about it. “The last time I played was in High School, but I didn’t totally suck.”
Laughing, he stood up, taking me with him. Patted his pocket, frowning when he didn’t find his phone. “I’m going to order some Thai. Are you hungry?”
“Yeah, I am. If you order me some spring rolls, I’ll pay you back with my first paycheque. For the cab money, too.”
Dallon halted on the way into the living room, shot me a dark look. “You’re not paying me back for anything. I’m your boyfriend, Amy. Get used to it.”
I sighed and sunk into his chair, using my right foot to rotate it in circles. What was it like being Dallon, a young, wealthy CEO spending his days in his penthouse apartment, playing with money?
I bet it felt pretty damn good.
Chapter Twenty
“How did you meet Brendan?” I asked as we drove into Brooklyn.
Dallon glanced at me briefly before responding. “I don’t really talk about it with people.”
I frowned and looked out the window. Eventually, he sighed.
“I’m sorry, I’m not used to sharing my life with someone.” He reached over and squeezed my bare knee.
It tickled, and I pulled away, laughing.
“You’re ticklish? You shouldn’t have let me find that out, Miss Clair.” He reached out and tickled me so that I was pressed against the door in an attempt to escape him.
“Stop, please stop,” I said breathlessly. “Sir.”
He grinned and released me. “Not exactly a safeword, but it will do for now.”
“Safeword?”
“All in good time,” he smiled as if to himself, and came to a stop beside a park. There was a small playground and a few basketball courts. It wasn’t the nicest area of Brooklyn.
We were a few minutes early. Dallon turned off the ignition, staring out the windshield at the park as he spoke.
“A few years ago, I went down a very dark road, Amy. I don’t have time to discuss it with you now, and it’s not something I really want to talk about in general. I ended up in hospital where I met Brendan, a thirteen year old boy admitted for drug abuse. He was tight-lipped then—he can still be tight-lipped—but I managed to get him talking. Like me, his mother abandoned him at a young age and he lives with an absent father. He ended up with a bad crowd. The rest is history. I see him once a week and we play ball.”
“That’s really nice of you,” I said softly.
He turned to look at me. “I wanted to be that person for him—the person I didn’t have growing up.”
I nodded sadly, picturing Dallon as an abandoned, insecure little boy with wildly blue eyes and disheveled hair. The image saddened me to my core. It was in such contrast with the man sitting beside me: masculine, strong, proud. He hadn’t had anybody to save him, but he’d managed to save himself.
A blond boy appeared on the court, wearing a gray hoodie with the hood pulled up, earphones leading into his hoodie pocket.
Dallon grinned. “That’s him. Let’s go.”
I stepped out of the car and approached where Dallon was waiting, his hand held out to me. I took it and as we made our way across the park, Brendan pulled down his hood and removed an ear bud, a smirk on his face. If I hadn’t known better, he could have passed for Dallon’s biological baby bro.
“So you’re not gay after all,” he said to Dallon, who laughed and gave my hand a knowing squeeze.
Brendan whistled playfully. “Good work, man,” he said before putting out his hand to shake mine.
Then he was off, dribbling the ball across the court.
I sat on the top of a nearby picnic table as Dallon rushed after him. Watching them play, it was hard to believe that either of them had experienced what Dallon had described; they looked so young, so carefree, their cheeks pink and hair ruffled. Brendan faked Dallon out and jumped, tossing the ball through the hoop with one hand. Then he turned and yelled to me that I should dump Dallon, go out with him instead. Dallon was on him in a second.
I wrapped my arms around my middle as I thought about what Dallon had said about going down a dark road. How had he ended up in hospital? I could only assume he had been admitted for a drug overdose like Brendan. If that was the case, what had led him there?
They ended the evening by forcing me to shoot hoops. Dallon stood behind me and showed me how to hold the ball and then he stepped back, gesturing for me to go ahead. To both our surprise, I got it in the hoop. I cried out excitedly and jumped on the spot. Laughing, Brendan caught the ball and tossed it back to me.
“Again.”
We continued like that, and for some reason I was in the zone; we counted into the thirties before the ball bounced off the rim and shot into the park. Dallon sauntered over to me and put his sweaty arm around me playfully.
“Yum,” I said and made a face, grinning at the same time.
“Do you want to grab a bite to eat?” Dallon asked as Brendan returned.
“I ate before I came.”
“You sure?”
“Yeah. Thanks. I have homework to do, too.”
A look passed between them and I suspected that was Dallon’s way of making sure Brendan was taking care of himself.
Brendan turned to me and put out his hand again. “Nice to meet you, Amy.”
The guys slapped each other’s backs in a man-hug and then Dallon took my hand again, walked me back to the car.
“He’s a nice kid,” I said softly.
Dallon nodded and opened the passenger door for me. “Some of us go down dark roads and just need a little help getting back.”
***
To my surprise, Becky Platt didn’t wait until Friday to send me the job offer. As Dallon started the car, I opened my email to find the job offer. It wasn’t close to the amount of money Dallon had offered me, but it was more than I’d expected.
“I got my offer!” I announced cheerily.
“And?” Dallon asked, eyes on the road.
“I’m happy.”
“Good.”
“I start on Monday,” I said, stretching in the seat like a cat. “I’m super excited but also super nervous.”
“So you’re accepting it.”
“Yes.” I shot him a puzzled look before adding, “It’s not like I have multiple offers knocking down my door.”
His mouth stretched into a lop-sided grin. “Only two that I know about.”
“I’m taking it,” I said matter-of-factly. “I’ll just wait until tomorrow to let them know.”
Dallon glanced over at me. “Do up your seatbelt.”
“’Kay.” In all the excitement, I hadn’t realized I wasn’t wearing it. My phone vibrated with a message from Sam asking if I’d talked to Dallon about Friday night, and I responded quickly to let her know that it was on.
“I told Sam that they can come for drinks tomorrow night at… our place.”
In response, Dallon reached across me and grabbed the seatbelt, securing it across me.
“Hold your horses, bossy-pants. I was just responding to a message.”
“Do you think you could do what you’re told for one day?” he snapped.
What the hell? I glared at him, insulted yet flattered at the same time. “Do you think you could stop be controlling for one day?” I shot back.
“No.”
It was stated with such honesty, I stopped smiling. No bullshit when it came to Dallon King. We drove in silence for a few moments as I struggled to understand why he had reacted so strongly.
“I’m curious if you would be willing to try, Amy,” he sai
d softly.
I looked at him. His eyes were on the road, the night shrouding him in darkness so that I was unable to read his expression.
“What do you mean?”
“This Saturday. I would like you to agree to try for one full day.”
“Try what?” I didn’t mean to be difficult, but Dallon’s answering sigh let me know I was. I flinched a little.
“Submitting to me. Letting me call the shots for one entire day, no questions asked.”
I bit my lip. It felt to me like he was always calling the shots, but I didn’t dare say that. That would only reinforce his opinion that I was a control freak like him. “Okay.”
“Okay?” He turned to look at me, and in the light of the moon, I could see the excitement glinting in his eyes.
I shrugged like it was no big deal. “Yeah.”
I could hear his answering grin. “It’s not as simple as that, Miss Clair. There will be consequences to disobeying. Do you really think you can make it an entire day without arguing with me?”
I squirmed a little in my seat while I thought about that. “What do you mean, consequences?”
“Punishments,” he said simply. “That’s part of the fun.”
“Fun? So you would enjoy punishing me?”
Now he shrugged. “We discussed this earlier—it’s a means to an end. Fear of punishment is powerful.” He swung his head to look at me, a smirk on his face. “Though I’m not sure how much of a motivator it is for you. You tend to resist me anyway.”
I worried my bottom lip, letting it slide under my top teeth until it popped free. He was right; it was as if my pride wouldn’t allow me to just let him get what he wanted. I had to fight him the whole way.
Even if it made things harder on me.
He faced the road again, and I did too. It wasn’t very late but the road was mostly empty.
“What would the punishment be, spanking?”
“One of them, yes. But not like you’ve had before. Those were for pleasure.”
Pleasure? I unconsciously reached for the door.
“Punishment spankings are harder and last longer,” he said conversationally, as if we were talking about business. “After a punishment spanking, you would be quite sore and unable to sit comfortably. The ones you have had pale in comparison.”