by Rynne Raines
“Every. Last. Inch.” Her audible swallow had him smothering a grin. “Might I remind you, hesitation is unacceptable, and punishable?”
At his warning, she shifted her legs apart and locked her eyes on his chest. Her pink tongue darted out and raced a nervous path over her bottom lip, but he could clearly see the arousal in her eyes.
“Better.” He maneuvered half a step back while stroking his hands over her body. Across her tight shoulders, down her shaking arms. Her chest lifted and lowered with shallow, uneven breaths that drew his gaze and his attention to her small, perky breasts. He cupped them in his hands and squeezed her diamond stiff nipples between his fingers, relishing her harsh exhale.
Sensitive. Nice.
After seeing how swollen and abused they were in the photograph, he’d thought they might be. He often found himself focusing considerable attention on the area of his partner’s body that would make them the most vocal. Apparently, her childhood sweetheart was of a similar mind.
He pinched, rolled, and plucked her nipples until she broke down, blurting out a moan and whimper in the same breath. His chest tightened and a flood of adrenaline pumped through him. Fuck me. Her noises could be recorded and dubbed, and she’d make millions.
“You’re really making me wish I had some clamps right now,” he murmured, and savored another heady moan. “Do you know the rule about orgasms, Fiona?”
“Yes, Sir.” Her weak whimper had him smothering a smile. Her so-called research hadn’t left everything out.
He continued his exploration downward, his hands traveling over her ribcage and then to her quivering tummy. Eye level with her belly button, he noted the slight definition of muscles in her abdomen. It’d surprise him to find out she didn’t hit the fitness center at least a few times per week. She’d fill out a pair of those shiny, ass-hugging shorts perfectly.
Well, I’ll be damned…
Gaze paused on a neatly trimmed ginger triangle, his dick jerked. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been with a woman who didn’t completely shave their pussy. At the club, most subs shaved or waxed given the type of play they were entering into—melted wax, floggers, and clamps were generally more effective on bald flesh. Even so, he wouldn’t deny his instinctive arousal to the more natural state of a mature and beautiful woman. And that’s what he’d decided Fiona was, mature and beautiful.
With his self-discipline coming dangerously close to his limit, he rose slowly from his haunches, and on his way up slid his hand along the inside of one of her smooth thighs. The moment he cupped her warm, damp pussy, her eyes drifted shut.
“Oh, God,” she whispered, but a whisper wasn’t enough. He wanted to hear her scream it. Soon.
“Open your eyes and look at me,” he instructed, unable to curb the growing coarseness in his voice. “There’s nothing more beautiful than a woman’s eyes when she’s desperately trying to fight off an orgasm.”
On a labored sigh, she lifted her lust-clouded gaze. Liquid pools of emerald fire. He felt the heat from her eyes scalding a path over his face. He could only imagine how pretty they’d look all watery and wild from his dick pressed against the back of her throat.
Keeping his eyes on hers, he pressed his middle finger between her slippery folds and rubbed back and forth over the sensitive flesh. Every sharp pant that passed her lips put another notch in his restraint, and sweetly so. The knit of her fine brow, the way her eyes focused then unfocused with her mounting arousal fueled his need to claim her.
“Please,” she whimpered softly.
“Please what, love?” he asked, continuing to swirl his fingertips over her slick cleft while he toyed with one of her breasts, stroking and teasing her stiff nipple.
Seemingly in a haze, she creased her brow as if it took every ounce of her strength to focus and form a sentence. “I…I…want you.”
“Mmm, you want me to what?”
“I want you inside me,” she declared in the sweetest and softest voice he’d ever heard. It nearly brought him to his knees. Nearly.
“Like this?” He pushed two fingers inside her dripping entrance and delighted in the moan that exploded out of her.
“Oh!”
He left them there, buried to the hilt and very slowly crossed and uncrossed them inside of her while he circled his thumb over her swollen clit. Her knees began to wobble. Her hips shifted back and forth as if part of her wanted to dislodge his fingers from her pussy while the other part demanded deeper penetration.
“Is this what you wanted?”
“It’s…it’s very nice but no. Please,” she pleaded, shaking her head in a heated frenzy. “Please, don’t tease me. I can’t take anymore.”
“Then tell me exactly what it is you want, Fiona. Say it.” He didn’t bother trying to soften the rough edge that laced through his voice now. They were beyond sweet nothings and gentle coaxing. Someone was about to get fucked. Hard.
When she didn’t answer him immediately, he clenched a fistful of her hair in his free hand and brought his mouth to her ear.
“Fucking say it,” he rasped.
“Your cock! Christ,” she blurted then dropped her voice to a whisper. “I…I want your cock inside me, Sir.”
Harrison’s mouth crushed hers. Desperate. Fierce. His primal growl echoed in the hollow of her mouth and suddenly she was slammed backed against cold steel. Tongues, warm and wet, circled and seduced, while the heat of his lips lit a fire deep in her belly.
Take me…use me…fuck me…please! She would have screamed it had his mouth not been covering hers in the most demanding kiss she’d ever experienced. It was the type of kiss fantasies were made of. Hot. Wet. Devastating.
The clang of his belt buckle rang out. A tinfoil condom wrapper rustled.
Oh God. Yes. Please, hurry.
As if on descent from the highest summit of a rollercoaster, her stomach violently fluttered. His large hands gripped her thighs and jerked them up around his waist. Her ankles instinctively locked at his lower back, and she managed to arch in time with his upward thrust. The entire steely length of his cock, every glorious inch, entered her and caused a breath to lock in her throat. Her lungs paused, along with her heart and brain.
Jesus.
She’d almost forgotten the slow, sweet burn that spread throughout her whole body when a man’s cock stretched her pussy beyond limit. Something told her, from this moment on, she’d never forget it again.
Lips now resting against her ear, he rasped a harsh curse. She wanted to echo his sentiment, but for as full as she felt, the words swelled in her throat and resulted in no more than a strangled breath. When he drew his hips back and pushed inside her hot passage again, any possibility of speaking went out the window. A cry blasted up her throat, but she buried her face in his shoulder and clamped down on it a fraction of a second before the noise escaped.
His quiet laughter echoed in her head.
“Keep holding onto that scream, sweetheart. It’ll only make me fuck you that much harder.”
Whether to gain leverage or shield her body from the force of his next powerful thrust, he wrapped his arms around her, arched back and shoved ruthlessly deeper. The scream she’d been swallowing erupted in an explosion of sound. If not for the fabric of his suit coat caught between her teeth, the throaty cry might have carried for miles.
“Atta girl,” he praised, sadistic delight laced through his rough voice. “I could listen to you scream for days.”
A depraved vision of being bound, gagged, and used by him for days shaped behind Fiona’s eyes and made it that much harder to hold back her orgasm as he continued to drill her without mercy. It didn’t help every time he entered her, his pelvis ground against her swollen, sensitive clit, primed and ready to detonate. The more she tried to prevent her climax, the more difficult it became.
“Please…oh, God. Please.” Breath raced out of her in short, sharp pants. “So…close.”
“That’s it,” he ground out. “Come undone for me.”
> And she did.
The climax slammed into her with the force of freight train behind it. Violent tremors hammered through her, and it was suddenly as if she could feel every ridge, vein, and contour of his cock rubbing against the inner walls of her soaked pussy. She wanted to scream. She was going to scream. Her fingers curled, her nails raking the refrigerator door at the same time the loud cry scraped up her throat. Even muffled against his shoulder, she was sure it was the loudest sound ever known to man. But she couldn’t have cared less.
She rode the orgasm, just as she rode his hard cock until his shockwave hit. He cursed low and thrust hard. Spasms rocked through his powerful frame, and she could feel his muscles tighten and release, only to tighten again. His arms constricted around her, and barely able to breathe, she wondered if ever someone had held her so tightly. Never.
Chapter Five
Harrison pulled a twenty from his wallet and handed it to the delivery boy from Giovani’s deli in exchange for a paper bag filled with fresh meats, cheeses, and breads. After he thanked the kid and waved off the change, he shut the door quietly and carried the food to the kitchen.
A call in to his secretary had cleared his afternoon, and he used the time to catch up on paperwork. Although his meeting cancellations led to a small fortune in Cuban cigars being sent out to smooth over the inconvenience with a few of his heavy hitting political supporters, he’d have paid a hell of a lot more for his afternoon with Fiona.
He removed the food from the bag and set it on the counter and then reached into the refrigerator for two bottles of water. After closing the door, he stared at it. An eyebrow quirked. What an unexpected afternoon. Pleasantly unexpected. A wry smile tugged at his mouth and he shook his head. Unbelievable.
Unlike the edgy, frustrated energy spiking through his body this morning, he felt rejuvenated and balanced.
And, he owed his newfound inner peace to the charming and exhausted woman asleep in his bedroom down the hall.
The soft clearing of a throat made him turn, water bottles in hand.
Fiona offered a sheepish smile and a small wave as she clutched a bed sheet at her breasts. “Hi.”
The disheveled sight of her damn near had his cock saluting. Her hair was tangled and frizzy from sex and sleep, her lips swollen and dark from the roughness of his kiss. A beautiful mess.
“Sleep well?” he asked, fighting off the urge to cross the kitchen and grab her.
“Yes, thank you.” She flushed further and gently shook her head. “Is it really nine o’clock? I could’ve sworn I only closed my eyes for a minute.”
“You needed the rest.”
“Yes. I did.”
And still needed more, Harrison decided. Although beautiful, the circles under her eyes told him she’d been burning the candle at both ends.
“Did you miss your meeting?” she asked.
“I rescheduled.”
“I’m sorry.” She winced. “I just need my clothes, and I’ll be out of your way.”
“You’re not in my way.” He gathered up the food tray and closed the distance between them. Her fingers clenched the sheet tighter on his approach, and he bit back a grin. There was his anxious little rabbit. Though he wanted to do a hell of a lot more, he leaned down and kissed her forehead.
“Thought you’d be hungry when you woke, so I ordered a few things up from the deli down stairs.” He walked into the living room and set the tray on the coffee table.
“You arranged dinner?”
“Wouldn’t call it much of a dinner. Just some meat and cheese on a plastic plate.” He glanced back to see her still standing in the entrance. “Come. You need to eat.”
“I’ll just get my clothes.”
“Leave them.”
She froze mid-stride through the kitchen and looked back at him, her fine brow knitting. “You want me to stay in the sheet?”
“In the sheet. Out of the sheet.” He shrugged. “I’ll leave that decision up to you.”
She continued to stare at him, and he patiently returned her gaze, watching her struggle between inhibition and her submissive nature to comply with his wishes. To his satisfaction, the struggle only lasted about half a minute. He watched her pad barefoot across the dark hardwood to where he stood in the living room.
“Do you always get your way?” she asked, lowering into an arm chair on the opposite side of the coffee table.
“Usually.”
An odd smile tugged at her mouth. “Must be nice to be you.”
“More often than not, it is.”
Looking more relaxed now, she reached for a piece of cheese on the tray, and he clucked his tongue.
Her pale brows lifted. “I thought you wanted me to eat.”
“I do, but I want you here.” He held her gaze and patted his lap.
She sent an incredulous look. It wouldn’t be the first time a woman looked at him as if he’d grown a third eye, and he was sure it wouldn’t be the last. Her reaction didn’t bother him, though. The last time she’d sat on a man’s lap was probably twenty-some years ago with the incentive of gifts under the Christmas tree.
“You want me to sit on your lap?” She cleared her throat. “Like a child?”
“Sit on it or bend over it,” he answered casually. “Up to you.”
Her full body shiver made him want to shove the food off the table, strap her down to it, and make her his meal for the evening. He stayed off the primal urge and instead, savored the transition in her expression from shocked to severely aroused. It was becoming obvious to him that she was just as easily stimulated verbally as she was by being touched. An exceptional quality for a sub to have, especially if their Dom often travelled for business…
“So?” He stretched an arm across the back of the sofa and cocked an eyebrow. “What’ll it be, sit or bend?”
A brief flash of mischief twinkled in her eyes, and for a moment, he wasn’t sure which option she was leaning toward. Either suited him.
“I suppose if those are my choices, I’ll sit.”
“Shame.”
She laughed softly and rounded the table. The frumpy sheet didn’t exactly accentuate her nice figure, but there was something very attractive about the way she moved in it. The bulk of the fabric settled below her waist and swung like a church bell when she walked. A seductive church bell.
He pulled the tray of food onto the cushion beside them and then chose a piece of gouda. “Any allergies?”
“No. None.”
He held the cheese near her mouth and watched her confusion mingled with bizarre delight. Eventually, she opened for him and took a small bite. He grabbed a few slices of prosciutto and cubes of bread for himself and watched her slowly chew. Her uncertainty faded, a little more each time he held another piece of food to her mouth and he enjoyed the progression. At one point, she even nibbled playfully on his fingers.
“Can I ask you something?” she asked.
At the serious note in her tone, he dusted his hands off over the tray and then settled back and waited.
“Is this,” she gestured to her on his lap, “a Dom thing or a Harrison thing?”
“You make it sound like they’re separate, which they are not, really.”
“I mean, are you dominating me right now?”
“Do you feel dominated?”
“I feel something,” she answered quietly. “Sort of small, like a child but not like a child. Warm inside.”
He’d never heard it described quite that way before. “You mean, cherished?”
“Yes.” She turned her head and looked him in the eye for what felt like minutes before she finally looked away. “I guess there’s no question now as to whether or not I’m submissive.”
Knowing her father as a hard-nosed Republican who preached his religious beliefs about as often as the rest of the politicians discussed the economy, the note of disappointment in her voice didn’t overly surprise him, but it did annoy the hell out of him.
“The million
dollar question is what do you want to do with that information?” He grabbed a water bottle off the side table, twisted off the cap, and handed it to her. “Lock it up or explore it?”
Her eyes narrowed on him. “Has your lap always doubled as a shrink’s couch?”
“Stick around long enough, and you’ll discover my lap is very versatile.”
She shivered, the heat in her eyes putting her in the dangerous territory of a demonstration.
“I envy you.” She half smiled. “You’re so at ease with all of it. Who you are. What you want.”
“It gets a lot easier once you accept who you are, and what you want. It wasn’t always so easy,” he admitted, remembering all the self-loathing he’d felt from his perverse appreciation for bringing women to tears and then fucking them into mind-blowing orgasms.
“I read that there are places a person might go to…”
“Fetish clubs,” he finished when her sentence trailed off.
She nodded.
“New York has a decent number of them.”
“When I’m back from Maine, maybe that’s where I’ll have to start.”
Harrison flexed his jaw.
Visiting fetish clubs would be the logical place for her to learn more about herself and her needs as a submissive, but the idea of her going to public clubs on her own left the taste of metal in his mouth. He watched her drain half the water from her bottle and then delicately swipe the excess moisture from her lips with her fingers. She looked so fragile. But he knew she wasn’t. She was strong and intelligent and sweet. She would make an exceptional submissive for some lucky bastard. Most likely an undeserving one.
There were plenty of places filled with untrained players or power hungry assholes simply looking for a soft body to abuse. His mouth twitched and the urge to pluck her off his lap and lock her away in a glass case where she’d stay protected struck him.
“God, look at that.” Fiona sighed. “You offer me your coat in a rainstorm, and I repay your kindness by stealing an entire day of your life.”
“So true.” He took the empty bottle from her hands and set it aside. “You should be ashamed of yourself.”