by Ford, Hannah
“Ahh, you’re familiar with my work, I see.” He seemed pleased and not embarrassed in the slightest.
“If you want to call it work.” The waitress returned with my drink, and I went to take a sip.
Before I could, Callum had slid around the booth so that he was sitting right next to me. He was so fast, so close, that my heart began to beat hard in my chest. The smell of his spicy aftershave filled my nose.
“Do not drink that,” Callum said, removing the drink from my hand and setting it down on the table.
“Why not?” I asked.
“Never drink from a glass you haven’t seen poured,” he said. “Don’t you know the statistics on women getting drugs slipped into their drinks?” He shook his head. “It’s sickening.”
“You made me order that drink!” I said. “And besides, I want it. I’m thirsty.” It wasn’t true. But for some reason, I wanted to show him up, wanted to make him see that I wasn’t going to just do whatever it was that he said. He was so bossy.
I reached over and picked up the drink and brought it to my lips. But he grabbed my wrist, stopping me. He took the glass out of my hand and set it back down on the table.
He slid his own drink across the table so that it was sitting in front of me. “You can have some of mine.”
“But I haven’t seen that one poured either,” I said, proud of myself for not falling for one of his tricks.
“Fair enough.” He picked up the glass and took a long drink, letting drops of water pool on his bottom lip. Then he leaned over and brushed his lips against mine without asking. It wasn’t a kiss exactly – it was too short and soft for that. But it was the promise of one.
Heat roared through my body like a searing furnace. He tasted like lemon and soda water, and something else, something sexy and dangerous. Blood pounded in my ears, and the beat of the music pulsed through my body.
Callum leaned in close to me. “Do you know what goes on in those rooms back there, Adriana?” he whispered, indicating the rear of the building, where an open archway led to a hallway that ran perpendicular to the restaurant.
“Yes,” I lied, my voice cracking.
“What?” he pressed. His hand reached up and pushed my hair off my shoulders, his fingertips brushing lightly against my neck. He was so close to me I could feel the heat radiating off his body and I could still taste the lemon on my lips.
“I don’t know,” I admitted.
He gave me an amused smile, then slowly and sensuously reached down and undid the top button of my shirt.
I gasped as his palm slid down over my cleavage, the tip of his finger slipping briefly under the lace cup of my bra.
My first instinct was to pick up the drink that was sitting on the table and throw it in his face. But a second later my outrage melted away, replaced with a delicious warmth that raced through my body and settled between my legs.
I willed myself not to moan.
I turned to look at him, and his eyes searched mine, like he was looking for any sign that I was going to fight against this, that I was going to admonish him for unbuttoning my shirt out here in front of everyone without even asking me.
But I didn’t say a thing.
“Good girl,” he said, nodding in satisfaction.
He took another sip of his water, then got up and threw some bills down on the table.
“Come,” he said.
“What?” I asked, my head spinning from what had just happened.
“We’re going back there.” He tipped his head toward the back hallway.
Do you know what goes on back there? he’d asked me.
What did go on back there? I wondered. Sex? Drugs? Rock n’ roll?
“Oh, no,” I said, shaking my head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go –”
He slid back into the booth, took my cheek in his hand, pulled me close so that I was sure he was going to kiss me, really kiss me this time. But he stopped just short of my lips, but stayed close enough that when he began to talk, I could almost feel his lips brush against mine.
“I told you to never apologize. Now you have disobeyed me.”
“Disobeyed you?” I asked, not able to keep myself from giggling. “That’s absurd, you’re not even – ”
“I will be in room 4D,” he said. “I will wait there for five minutes. If you decide not to join me, I will leave through the back door.” His fingers slid down and undid another button on my shirt, peeling back the fabric slowly, the front hook of my bra now completely exposed.
My panties were soaked, and my mind screamed at me to stop, that this was wrong, that I knew nothing about this man, that the effect he was having on my body wasn’t real.
But it was real.
I was turned on, a thrumming sensation that vibrated through my body.
“Please know,” he said, “that if you do decide to join me, I will be punishing you.”
He stood up and disappeared into the back hallway, leaving me there, panting and breathless.
Holy crap. What the hell had just happened?
***
As soon as he was gone I buttoned my shirt. Then I whipped out my phone and googled the name of the restaurant.
Whipped Midtown Manhattan.
I stared at the screen in horror.
Whipped was a BDSM club.
BDSM. Paddles. Chains. Blindfolds and gags and all kinds of other stuff that both repulsed and fascinated me.
Actually, according to the website, Whipped was ‘BDSM light.’
“WHIPPED functions as a full-functional restaurant and bar with a full menu. For our more adventurous guests, private rooms are available. There are no public play spaces.”
Public play spaces?
I couldn’t believe some guy I’d met on a dating app had invited me to a BDSM club. I couldn’t believe the fact that the place was called Whipped hadn’t tipped me off. But how the hell was I supposed to know what really went on here? I’d just thought maybe they were known for their desserts or their mashed potatoes or something.
I was so not in Michigan anymore.
Public play spaces!
I will be punishing you.
What did that even mean?
I reached over and took a sip of Callum’s drink in an effort to cool myself down. My skin felt prickly and hot.
The sour bite of lemon filled my mouth and I remembered how Callum’s lips had felt against mine, the broadness of his chest, the way his hands had felt as he unbuttoned my shirt.
Before I knew what I was doing, I was up and moving toward the back hallway toward the private rooms. I felt like an imposter, and I half expected one of the people who worked there to stop me, to tell me that I had no business being back there.
But no one even noticed.
It was quieter back here, and I wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or a bad one.
I ventured down the hallway, my heart thrumming against my ribs, looking for room 4D. It was three doors down on the right.
I stopped outside the door and took a deep breath, listening for clues as to what might be going on inside these rooms. After a few seconds, my ears were able to filter out the music coming from the restaurant, and I zoned in on the sounds wafting out from behind the closed doors.
Slaps.
Smacks.
Moans.
A woman whimpering.
The sound of a man’s voice, gruff and demanding.
Get out of here, my mind yelled. Get the fuck out of here, Adriana, and don’t come back.
Instead, I raised my hand and knocked on the door of 4D.
“Come in,” Callum called.
I turned the knob and walked in, bracing myself for whatever I might find inside.
But there wasn’t anything scary about the room.
In fact, it was quite the opposite.
There was a dark grey couch pushed against one wall, and a soft-looking leather bench on the side of the room. The only thing that was slightly scary was a contraption in the corner, almost like a
bench press machine with fur cuffs hanging from it. I quickly turned away from it.
Besides that, the room was bare, almost like I was in a room in someone’s house that they hadn’t gotten around to decorating.
The only other strange about 4D was the mirrors. They lined the walls on all sides, the reflections bouncing off each other so that looking at them made you feel disoriented, as if you were in a long, endless tunnel.
Callum stood over by the bench, his back to me. He’d removed his shirt, and was now wearing only a pair of dark dress pants that hugged his tight ass. His back was rippled with muscle, and when he turned around, I let out the breath I was holding.
He was sexier than any model, his body like something that had been airbrushed to life. His chest was broad, his pecs hard and defined with just the slightest bit of dark hair. His stomach was flat, the rippling muscles narrowing into the V of his hips. His waist was slim but not too slim – he was fit and muscular, without being too bulky or too wiry.
I bit my bottom lip, wondering what it would feel like to run my hands through the hair on his chest.
Stop staring!
His eyes moved up my body, slower than they’d done out in the club, and I felt the heat rise to my cheeks.
“Don’t be embarrassed, Lemon,” he said.
“Lemon?” I wasn’t sure if he was teasing me, or if he meant it as a term of endearment.
He didn’t offer any explanation.
Instead, he pointed to the couch. “Sit.”
I did as he said, walking over to the couch and sitting down, feeling his eyes on me the whole time.
I perched on the edge of the couch, making sure I would be able to get up quickly if I needed to.
Callum walked to the door and locked it, the click echoing through the room with finality.
“Why are you locking the door?” I asked, hating that I was asking questions. Was this standard procedure? I didn’t want him to know this was my first time back here.
“We need privacy, Lemon,” Callum said.
He crossed the room until he was standing in front of me. He reached down and took my chin in his hand, tipped it up until I was looking at him. The pad of his thumb brushed over my lower lip, then slid down the hollow of my throat.
“You’re nervous, Lemon,” he said.
“No, I’m not,” I lied, looking him in the eye, determined not to let him see how nervous I really was, and not wanting him to know that I’d been lying about having been here before.
“Look at the floor,” he growled, his voice changing from teasing to commanding as if a switch had been flipped.
I did it immediately.
I wasn’t sure why.
I just knew that it felt right, that I wanted to please him, wanted to make him happy and do what he said.
“Good girl,” he said, and I flushed with pleasure at the compliment.
He sat down next to me, put his hand on my leg.
“You don’t have to be nervous, Adriana.”
“I told you, I’m not nervous.” Holy crap, that was a lie. I was more nervous than I’d ever been in my life. I was also pretty sure I was more turned on than I’d ever been in my life.
I will be punishing you.
I was careful to keep from looking at him, to keep my eyes down on the floor like he’d instructed.
He inched his hand up further up my thigh. His hand burned a hole through my jeans and the electricity in my belly moved lower, into my pussy, making my panties wetter than they already were.
“Nervous now?” he breathed.
“No.” But my voice sounded slightly strangled. He was only inches from touching me between my legs, and I was afraid he was going to be able to tell how turned on I was soon. He hadn’t even touched me, hadn’t even kissed me, and I was already dripping wet.
“You sure, Lemon?” he breathed, and now his mouth was right at my ear as his hand moved further and further up, and I wanted his hands on my body and his mouth on mine so bad that the urge was too hard to resist and I turned my head to look at him.
He took my chin in his free hand and pushed it back gently so I was facing forward again.
“Not until I say,” he growled.
A second later, his hand moved up and touched me through my jeans. He didn’t even move, just kept his hand cupping my mound, pressing gently.
A moan escaped my lips.
“You’re wet, Lemon,” he breathed into my ear.
He pulled his hand away, like he was enjoying teasing me, then skated it up over my stomach, his fingers toying with the button on my pants.
I closed my eyes, because I knew if I didn’t I would try to look at him again. His lips brushed against my ear every time he talked, and the heady mix of his aftershave and the feel of his mouth against my skin was intoxicating.
His hand slipped up my body, over my shirt, kneading my breast with his hand, tweaking my nipple.
“I thought,” he said, unbuttoning my top button. “I’d taken care of this.” He unbuttoned the next one, this time not stopping until my shirt was completely open. I blushed as he pulled the sides of my shirt to the side, taking in my bra. It was a simple black number that I’d put on that morning, having no idea that I was going to end up half naked in front of a gorgeous billionaire.
“Jesus, Lemon,” he said. “We’re going to have to get you some new lingerie.” He pushed his palm flat against my cleavage then slid it down slowly, moving over my stomach and back to the top of my jeans.
“Close your eyes,” he whispered.
I closed my eyes and then his mouth was on mine, lemony and minty with a taste of something dark and male and dangerous. His tongue parted my lips as I surrendered to his kiss.
His hand was stroking my belly softly, moving back and forth in slow, soft circles until he was back at the button of my jeans. This time, he undid it, his hand slipping inside, down over my panties.
I moaned and tried to pull away from the kiss.
It wasn’t because I didn’t like kissing him, it was because it was so intense it was scary. I felt like I was losing control of my body, and not only that, I wanted to lose control to him. I wanted to push myself over the edge, wanted to give myself to him. And my instinct was to rail against that, even though it was what I wanted.
His other hand held the back of my head though, pushing my mouth harder against his, the kiss deepening, his tongue probing and dancing with mine.
I let out a little whimper as his fingers dipped inside my panties and slid down over my pussy, tugging gently at my pubic hair.
He pulled back from the kiss and I kept my eyes closed, not wanting to disobey him.
“We’ll have to do something about this, too,” he murmured, and then his fingers were spreading my folds gently and his finger was… oh, God, his finger was inside of me and his thumb was pressing against my clit and his mouth was back on mine.
He began fucking me with his finger, soft and slow, while he rubbed my clit and teased my mouth with his tongue. I could feel myself being pushed to the edge, but right when I was about to come, he stopped. My breathing was ragged, every sense heightened as he began finger fucking me again, bringing me to the edge and back over and over again, driving me crazy.
Finally, he stopped completely.
I started to open my eyes, but he barked, “Eyes on the floor.”
I immediately averted my gaze.
“Stand up,” he said, “and make sure you keep your eyes on the floor.”
I stood up and he began to undress me, pulling my pants off, sliding my shirt off and tossing it onto the floor. His hands roamed over my body, his fingertips brushing down my bare arms before he put his hands on my shoulders and pushed me down until I was kneeling on the hard floor.
“Unbutton my pants,” he commanded.
I did as I was told, my hands shaking as I fumbled with his belt.
What are you doing, Adriana?
What the hell are you doing?
I w
asn’t sure.
All I knew was that I couldn’t stop.
“Take out my cock, baby.”
I hesitated, then reached inside his boxers and felt for his dick. It was already hard, and I pulled it out and stroked in gently in my hand. He was bigger and thicker than any man I’d been with, and I thought about how much it would hurt if he decided to fuck me. I was shocked to find the thought excited me.
He reached down and grabbed the strap of my bra, snapped it against my shoulder hard. A tiny burn of pain pulsed through me as I began to stroke him up and down, careful to keep my eyes on the floor.
He reached down and cupped my chin, slipped his finger inside my mouth. I sucked on it hungrily.
“Mouth closed,” he growled and removed his finger from my mouth. “Eyes shut.”
I closed my eyes and felt him rubbing the head of his dick over my closed lips. A second later, I felt it parting the barrier of my lips as he invaded my mouth.
He tasted acrid and good, and my center flooded with searing heat so wet I could feel my panties sticking to my pussy.
“Look at me,” he whispered finally.
I looked at him, his blue eyes locked on mine, and it was like a million mini explosions went off inside of my body. Everything came into sharp razor focus, every sense of my body heightened. I could taste him, touch him, smell him in bright detail.
“Use your hand, baby,” he groaned as I sucked him, and I wrapped my hand around his shaft, stroking him into my mouth. I loved the look of bliss on his face as he fucked my mouth, and I shivered, loving that I could please him.
The way he was being so forceful excited me, and when he put his hand on the back of my head and pushed me all the way down on his dick, causing me to almost choke, I almost came.
He released me, and I sputtered a bit. I took a moment to catch my breath and once I did, I went to reach for his cock again. But in that half a second of hesitation, I caught sight of myself in one of the mirrors that lined the wall.
My hair was mussed, my eyes wide and rimmed with smudged eyeliner.
One strap my bra hung down over my arm, and the cups were pushed down, allowing my breasts to swell over the top.
My back was arched, my panty-clad ass high in the air, and I was leaning back on my high heels.