Show and Tell: A Forbidden Flowers Story

by Lynne, Donya

  She squirmed as her arousal ate away at her inhibitions. “And you want to pluck my flower, is that it?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  She was so turned on and her labia so engorged that she would be shocked if tonight’s orgasm didn’t send her into orbit.

  “You’re such a gentleman,” she said, her hips pumping in shallow thrusts.

  The ensuing mischievous rumble of his chuckle sent a stab of heat straight through her. “I’m no gentleman.”

  She hadn’t known his voice could grow even sexier, but with just three words, he’d proved her wrong.

  “You’re not?” she asked, becoming increasingly breathless.

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “If I were there with you, you would know why.”

  He was going to make her come. All he had to do was keep talking.

  “Why?” she asked. “What would you do to me if you were here?”

  “Do you really want to know?”

  “Yes.”

  In the contemplative silence that followed, she heard long, controlled exhales, as if he were highly aroused just thinking about what he wanted to do to her.

  “I warn you, I’m not for the faint of heart,” he said, his restrained voice full of gravel.

  She moaned as the K-Y gel did its thing, making her sensitive flesh hot and cold in turns. The tingling sensations were both numbing and invigorating.

  “Duly noted.” She needed to hear that voice describe all the naughty things he was thinking. “Now, tell me what you would do to me if you were here.”

  He made a soft huffing noise. “You do like to top from the bottom, don’t you?”

  Her fingers stuttered over her clit. She had done tons of research on the BDSM community for her books. Topping from the bottom was terminology from the lifestyle. It was something a Dominant said when a submissive tried to control a scene.

  Did this mean that Bourbon was—

  She didn’t even dare think it. She couldn’t have been that lucky.

  “I’m going to enjoy breaking you of that habit,” he added a moment later.

  Yes, yes! Break me!

  Her unknown caller sure came off like a Dom. Maybe—just maybe—he was.

  If so, this was as close as she’d come to living out her fantasies. Writing books was great, and all the BDSM research she’d done had certainly fed into her desires, providing her with a framework to use as a backdrop for the games she had played in her mind since high school, but now she’d found a man who appeared well-versed in the real-life world of domination and submission.

  “I’ve been a bad girl,” she said, too far gone to care whether he knew she was onto him. Her orgasm had already peeked out from within the shadows and was on a slow build to detonation.

  “Yes, you have. Very bad. And if I were there with you, I would bend you over the back of a chair and take a leather strap to your very fine, smooth ass and remind you who’s boss.”

  Jenna’s whole body shivered as she opened her legs wider, fingering her clit furiously as a vortex of heat swirled faster and brighter from her center.

  “You like being spanked, don’t you?” he asked, the tension in his voice growing.

  “Yes.” She’d only ever been spanked once, but it had led to one of the best sexual experiences of her life.

  “Do you want me to spank you?”

  She nodded as her orgasm continued to build. “Yes.”

  “You purposely disobey me just so I’ll spank you, don’t you?”

  Right now, she would agree to anything he said. “Yes.” She whimpered, thrusting her hips almost uncontrollably now.

  “You like when I spank you. It excites you. Gets you wet. Because you know that spanking you gets me hard. And you want all that hardness inside you, don’t you? You want me to fuck you.”

  “Yes,” she whispered on a shaky exhale. She was on the verge of coming. Just a few more seconds . . .

  “You will kneel on the bed facing the headboard, and I will tie your wrists to the posts, bend you over, and fuck your tight little pussy while I insert my thumb in your ass and—”

  Fantasy met reality as Jenna’s orgasm slammed into her with shattering force. Crying out, she arched off the bed, fisting the comforter with one hand as her shuddering thighs clamped closed around the other.

  Every muscle in her lower abdomen clenched and released, the sensations heightened by the anal plug still nestled inside her and the low, hungry rumble of his voice as he said, “That’s it, come around my thick cock. Let me feel your pussy suck on me.”

  Panting through wave after wave of receding pleasure, she rolled onto her side, her legs still pressed together, her body trembling.

  She’d finally found him. A real-life Dom. And despite not having laid a finger on her, he had made her come harder than she had in years.

  Just what had she gotten herself into? And how would she ever extricate herself from him? A man she’d never seen, whose name she didn’t even know, but whose voice was better than her Pocket Rocket at getting her off.

  Chapter Four

  “Bad girl,” he said.

  Bad? No, no, she was good. So good. Right now, she was exceptional. Then again, she had just come. Hard. She’d never been better.

  Somehow, she didn’t think that was what he was referring to, though.

  Before she could respond, he said, “You came before I gave you permission.”

  Oh yeah, he was definitely a Dominant.

  He released a resigned sigh. “But I suppose I’ll let you get away with that just this once. After all, this was all for just a bit of fun, wasn’t it?”

  She grinned and rolled onto her back again, finally able to remove her hand from between her legs.

  “Am I allowed to ask your name?” she asked.

  “Warren. Yours?”

  She considered giving him an alias, but she didn’t want to play games. “Jenna.”

  Neither of them said anything for a few moments. Jenna was still too caught up in the lingering sensations spinning through her body like fading tornadoes, and Warren sounded like he knew she needed a little longer to recover.

  “So, Warren,” she said when she’d caught her breath, “you’re a Dom.”

  “Yes.” Brief pause. “Does that scare you?”

  “No.”

  “I didn’t think so.”

  “Why?” She rotated her legs to one side and stretched her arms over her head, luxuriating in the afterglow of her orgasm. “Are you psychic?”

  He laughed quietly. “No. It’s just that the more I described spanking you and tying you up, the more excited you became.” He softly cleared his throat as if he were getting more comfortable. “Then, of course, you came without permission, before I’d even had a chance to get to the good part.”

  That piqued her curiosity. “What’s the good part?”

  “Nope, it’s too late. You came. Fantasy over.” She could hear the playful smile in his voice.

  She groaned. “You’re evil.”

  “You don’t know the half of it.”

  Did that mean he was a hardcore Dom and not some wannabe who only played at domination games?

  “Stop teasing me.”

  This time his laugh was full and more robust, like he was having more fun than he’d expected. “I’m not teasing you.”

  “Then tell me how ‘evil’ you are? What do you do to your subs? Do you just tie them up? Cuff them to the bed and slap a flogger on their backs, then fuck them? Do you have your own dungeon? Is it just about kinky fuckery with you? Or is this a lifestyle choice you live twenty-four seven?”

  She had so many questions. She had never met a Dom before. Now that she had, and he’d pleasured her with nothing more than his voice, she wasn’t ready to let him go.

  “You do know a thing or two about the lifestyle, don’t you?” he replied. “Are you a submissive?”

  “No.”

  “Then how do you know s
o much?”

  “I’ve done my research.”

  “For the books you write?”

  “Yes.”

  “I might have to read one of those.”

  Was he serious?

  “Feel free. I write under the name Lillian Bangs.”

  He paused briefly as if he was writing it down. “Lillian Bangs?”

  “Yes.”

  “Bangs? As in, getting banged?”

  She smiled at his tongue-in-cheek tone. “Very good.”

  “I like it.”

  “It’s easy to remember and fits my brand.”

  “You write about BDSM?”

  “Yes.”

  He made an appreciative noise. “Mm, look at these covers. Very sexy.”

  “You’ve looked up my books?” Warren didn’t waste any time.

  “Impressive. You’ve got a lot of five-star reviews.”

  She had worked hard for those five-star reviews too.

  “Which book do you recommend I read first?” he asked.

  “You’re seriously going to read my books?”

  “Of course.”

  It was always scary putting her work out there, but especially scary to put her books into the hands of a man. And even scarier now that she knew he lived the lifestyle she wrote about.

  But it wasn’t like she had a reason to be worried. Plenty of her readers who were both Doms and submissives had messaged her to compliment her on how she represented the leather lifestyle. Some had even thought she was in the lifestyle herself, because she had written so accurately about it. But while she often fantasized about being a submissive, she had never actually been one. She’d never even seen a real dungeon.

  “My books are written more for a female audience.”

  “I don’t mind.”

  “But—”

  “If you don’t make a recommendation, I’ll just have to buy them all.”

  “What?”

  There was a long pause.

  “What are you doing?” she said.

  More silence.

  “You’re not seriously buying all my books.” She had published eight novels and three novellas. Surely, he had more important things to do than read her—

  “Done,” he said.

  Her jaw dropped. “You bought them all?”

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I said I would, and you didn’t make a recommendation. And I want to read them.”

  She wasn’t sure whether she should be ecstatic at selling eleven books in less than a minute or scared that a full-fledged Dom was going to read her attempts at representing the BDSM lifestyle accurately and in a good light.

  What if she had gotten it all wrong despite all the reassurances from her readers that she hadn’t? What if her books offended him?

  She didn’t want tonight to be the first and last time she would experience the pleasure of hearing his voice.

  “I hope you enjoy them,” she said, trying not to feel too fatalistic.

  “I’m sure I will.” More silence, then, “Ms. Bangs, why don’t you have any pictures of yourself posted on your Facebook page?”

  Jenna bolted upright, making the anal plug pop out. She was too alarmed that he was prowling her on social media to acknowledge the brief stab of discomfort. “You’re on my Facebook page?” She hadn’t even considered the possibility that he would look her up when she’d given him her pseudonym.

  “Yes.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m curious.”

  “About what I look like?”

  “Among other things.” He made a pensive noise. “But, alas, no pictures. Why is that?”

  She had purposely not posted pictures of herself to keep both her family and her coworkers from learning about her “side project.” Not only were her parents devout Christians who would never understand how she could write such “sinful” stories, but she hadn’t wanted to risk losing her job if anyone at work ever found out what she did in her off-time. And after discovering that she had coworkers who read her books, she’d been right to be cautious.

  It was just a matter of time before the truth came out, and she would own it when it did, but for now, she enjoyed the anonymity.

  “Let’s just say that I’m trying to keep my life as an author separate from my personal life.”

  “I can respect that.” He paused. “Of course, now I’m curious about what you look like.”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Not really, but you know what they say about curiosity.”

  “That it killed the cat?”

  He laughed. “Well that, too, but no. I was referring to the saying ‘Curiosity is the beginning of all wisdom.’ But since you brought up that curiosity killed the cat, did you know that’s not the whole saying?”

  “It isn’t?”

  “No. The saying is actually ‘Curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.’”

  “You’re just making that up.”

  “Google it.”

  “Don’t think I won’t.”

  “I know you will.”

  “Fine. What’s your point?”

  “That I still want to know what you look like.”

  She laughed at how deftly he circled the conversation back to where they’d started. “Would you like me to tell you?”

  “Please.”

  She glanced down at her firm, lean stomach and perky breasts, more grateful than ever that she worked out six days a week. “Do you want the truth or a lie?”

  “Never lie to me.”

  She arched one eyebrow at the commanding way he said that. As if he abhorred lies and would be very displeased to learn she’d been untruthful with him about anything at all, no matter how inconsequential.

  “Only if you never lie to me either,” she said. This had to be a two-way street, or she wouldn’t play along.

  “I wouldn’t be much of a Dom if I were a liar.” He issued an impish chuff. “Of course, I might choose to withhold information, because that’s what good Doms do. We withhold certain things from our submissives so we can all have our fun.”

  “Of course,” she said wryly.

  His voice grew sincere and forthright “But I will never lie to you. Lying erodes trust, and if I can’t earn a woman’s trust, I may as well get out of the lifestyle, because that would make me worthless as a Dominant.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “So, tell me what you look like, Jenna.”

  “Where do you want me to start?”

  He made a quiet noise, like he was trying to decide what he wanted to know first. “How about hair color.”

  “Dark brown, almost black,” she said.

  “Me too.”

  Ah, so this was going to be a tit-for-tat conversation. Nice. As she answered his questions, hopefully he would do the same.

  “How long is it?” he asked.

  “An inch or two longer than shoulder length.”

  “Mm, long enough for me to grab a handful and pull your head back.”

  Heat zinged down her spine at the thought. “Yes.”

  “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Having your head yanked back by your hair while I fucked you from behind.”

  Her breath hitched as her insides went molten at the visual that popped into her head. “Maybe.”

  He hesitated as if enjoying the idea as much as she did. After a few seconds, he made a self-satisfied noise that indicated he’d allowed himself enough time to fantasize, then said, “What else? Tell me more.”

  After having her arousal teased back to life, describing herself became shaded with salacious undertones.

  “How tall are you?” he asked.

  “Five-four.”

  “Petite. I like that.”

  “Why? How tall are you?”

  “Five-eleven.”

  She licked her lips, smiling to herself before saying, “Gosh, I would barely have to kneel to give you a blow job.”

  “Mmm.” S
hort pause, then, “Do you enjoy sucking cock?”

  “It’s all right,” she teased, unable to keep from smiling. But the more accurate answer was, yes, she did enjoy it. A lot.

  “Just all right?”

  “I would rather fuck.” A lick of fire zinged through her core at throwing what he’d said to her earlier back at him.

  Another pause. “Are you trying to top me from the bottom again, Jenna?”

  “I wouldn’t dream of it, Warren.”

  She could have lived inside the low carnal laugh that followed.

  “I am so going to enjoy breaking you.”

  “Breaking me?” Was he suggesting that he intended to meet her in person?

  “I’m a Dom, Jenna. Breaking submissives is what I do.”

  “So, I’m your submissive now?” The thought alone made every cell in her body tingle with anticipation.

  She heard a quiet rustling noise, like he was shifting position. “Let’s get back on-topic.”

  Apparently, this was one of those times he planned on withholding information.

  “What else do you want to know?” she asked.

  “How much do you weigh?”

  “Isn’t that kind of personal?” She was proud of her weight, but if he could withhold information from her, she could do the same.

  “This is a no-judgment zone.”

  Usually when someone said something like that they were blowing smoke, but with Warren, she felt like he meant it.

  “I’ve Dominated submissives of all shapes and sizes, Jenna. Trust me, the flogger lands the same on a plus-size ass as it does a size-zero ass.”

  “But I’m not your submissive.”

  “But you want to be.”

  She sucked in her breath. “Why would you assume that?”

  “Just a hunch. Now, stop stalling and answer me.”

  She did love how he bossed her, which was quite a deviation from how she normally reacted to someone trying to tell her what to do. She was usually the one directing others, totally in control of her life both at work and at home.

  Now here came Warren with his whiskey-espresso voice, commanding attitude, and brutal honesty, and all she wanted was to do whatever he demanded of her.

  “One hundred and sixteen pounds,” she said. “What about you?”

  “One ninety-four as of this morning, but last week I was one ninety-three.”

  “Slacker.” He’d gained a whole pound. What was the world coming to?