To Sir

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by Rachell Nichole


  “I told you we would discuss your ignoring me later,” he said, his voice deep with lust and dominance. “Well. It’s later. Not to mention the fact that you’ve denied me the right of taking care of you.”

  “So you’re going to”—she closed her mouth and swallowed—“leave me lying here, all hot and bothered?”

  “That’s the plan,” he said, unable to stop a grin from spreading on his face. “Orgasm denial is an effective tool when training a new sub.”

  Without waiting for a reply, he pulled a nipple into his mouth and sucked hard. She yelped, shuddering beneath him. He took his time teasing her nipples, palming her breasts, twisting, licking, biting them until he was sure they were so sensitive he was pushing her toward orgasm again already. He used one hand to slide into her curls and find her clit. He spread her folds wide and tapped it lightly with his finger. As he pinched her nipple harder and bit down on the other, he increased the speed and pressure until she was keening.

  “Oh, God. Please. No more. Chase. No more!”

  He pulled back from her, leaving her body in a writhing mass. She thrashed on the bed, her knuckles white from grasping the headboard so hard.

  “Ah. Damn it. Don’t stop.”

  “What do you want, Elizabeth? Do you want me to leave you here, alone, in the throes of passion and deny you my touch?”

  “No. No. Please. I can’t take any more.”

  “You want me to let you come?” His gaze bored into hers. She bit her lip and nodded. “Not until you admit you haven’t been taking care of yourself.”

  “Ugh. Please,” she begged, her hips rising toward him in invitation.

  “Not until you say it.”

  “Fine! I haven’t been taking care of myself. Are you happy now?”

  “Not quite.” He swatted her mound of curls, and she squealed, thighs tightening, body straining for release. “You have to agree to give this whole submission thing a try. A real one. Let me show you what it could be like if you were mine. Truly mine.”

  She shook her head, her wet hair sliding against her pillow.

  “Okay, then.” He stood up, taking one step back from the bed.

  “Damn it. How long?”

  He sat on the bed, stroking down her body in a soft caress. She bowed under the touch.

  “Two months.”

  “One week.”

  He flicked her nipple, and she inhaled sharply. God, he loved keeping her on that precipice. Knowing he could send her over the edge any second he wanted. His methods were underhanded, but he’d become obsessed with having her. “Six,” he countered.

  “Two.”

  “Four. And that’s my final offer.” Four weeks would give him plenty of time to train her body to respond to his touch the way a sub’s would. But would it be enough to open her mind? To stop her from running out the door anytime he pushed her?

  Glaring at him all the way, she mumbled, “Fine,” through clenched teeth.

  He fought the urge to clap. But her body was begging for release, and he couldn’t deny her any longer. He returned to his torture. Mouth on one nipple, hand on the other, and fingers thrusting deep inside her. He pinched her nipple hard, rolling it between his fingers as he bit and licked the other. She was soon at the peak again. He pumped his fingers in and out of her sheath, leaving one nipple free so he could use his other hand to open her labia and free her swollen clit.

  He tapped it, then rubbed it lightly and alternated between hard raps and a gentle caress. “Come for me, sweetheart. Let go,” he whispered.

  She screamed, shattering in his arms. She rode his hand hard, and he worked in a third finger, stretching and milking her. He rubbed her clit in fast circles and latched on to her nipple with his mouth. She screamed until her voice went hoarse, and still thrust against him for more.

  He crawled down her body and shoved her legs wide, pressing them into the mattress as he lowered his head to her clit and licked her mercilessly until she keened. “Enough, oh, God. Please, enough.”

  He lifted his head and cupped her mound. She thrust twice more against him, drenching him with her honeyed heat, then slumped, spent, against the mattress, her fingers finally releasing the wooden bars.

  LIZ FLOATED IN heaven. Her body sang with pleasure, and her eyes refused to open. Hot, calloused fingers caressed her skin, making her zing with electricity. She purred.

  “Turn over, sweetheart,” a voice intruded into her warm, happy place. A hand tried to move her, and she found the strength to bat it away. Deep male chuckles surrounded her. “Elizabeth, come on, now. Let me help.”

  She forced her eyes open and gazed up at the swirling dark chocolate. Chase’s eyes reminded her of a tour she’d taken of a chocolate factory once. Watching the chocolatier dip a wide whisk into the vat of chocolate and slowly let it drip back in. Delicious. Her mouth watered at the thought. And Chase’s eyes were that exact color. The smugness in them, however, was not nearly as sweet as chocolate.

  She grumbled, and he smirked. “Let me work out the tension in your arms. If you don’t, you’ll be very sore.”

  Right now she was boneless. What did she care about how she felt in an hour? For the moment, all that mattered was the wonderful bubble of ecstasy wrapped around her. When she still didn’t move, his face turned stern. “Fine,” she said, lifting her arm.

  Chuckling, he bent down and helped her roll over. She turned her head to the side, her gaze sweeping up to him. Chase still wore all his clothes, which would be a real shame, except for the fact that if he were naked, she might be expected to let him have his way with her again, and she couldn’t possibly.

  He grinned down at her. “Four weeks. You’re all mine for one whole month.”

  She shivered at the predatory gleam in his eyes. And she didn’t entirely hate it. She’d never done the long-term-relationship thing, never really belonged at home, or at school—hell, anywhere. What would it feel like to be his?

  He dipped his head and placed a soft kiss on her bare shoulder. “We’re going to have so much fun,” he whispered against her skin.

  He spread her arms and bent her elbows so her hands rested on the pillow on either side of her head. She let him move her, still feeling like she had no bones. He started a slow massage at the base of her neck and moved down her right shoulder. His hands were firm, the pressure penetrating deep into her muscles. She was already so relaxed, so she sighed and allowed him to pamper her.

  It was a strange mix of feelings that ran through her as he did this, and she figured she couldn’t stay immersed in her bubble any longer. The doubts were back, pushing in and stealing away the solace she’d had. She closed her eyes, needing to hide her emotions from him as she sorted through what had happened.

  Okay, so the denial phase was officially over.

  She liked being ordered about, spanked, denied orgasm… Well, that part hadn’t been so dandy at first, but God, what a finish. Never in her life had she felt so complete and sated. She didn’t want to think about whether she was okay with that. She liked it, and she’d try very, very hard not to hate herself for it.

  But she would not give up control of her whole life. She had to set some ground rules, fast, before he thought she was going to go along willingly with everything. She rotated her shoulders, starting to feel a bit of ache coming back to her body. It wasn’t isolated to her shoulders. Her hamstrings and calves burned from the way she’d been straining for release. Sheesh, was she that out of freaking shape? She hadn’t thought so, but clearly she’d deluded herself.

  “Not only the shoulders?” Chase asked.

  She blinked her eyes open until his face came back into view. “How’d you know?”

  “I told you. It’s in the job description of a Dom. I need to know your body, your limits, what you like and don’t like, how to tease you.” He tickled his way down her back, and she squirmed. “How to punish you when you’re naughty.” He popped her lightly on the ass, and she squealed. “And how to care for your ever
y need.” He slipped his hand down the edges of her entrance, and she quivered.

  Her muscles whined with the movement, but she didn’t care. He continued his massage down her body, his gaze never leaving her face. A woman could drown in a bath of chocolate like that.

  “Close your eyes, sweetheart. I’ll be here when you wake up.” His soft voice wasn’t exactly commanding, but somehow she knew it was an order. And a promise.

  She bristled. “I think we need some ground rules.”

  He smiled. “Shoulda known I wouldn’t get off that easy.”

  “Or at all,” she said with her own grin.

  He leaned in and nibbled on her love handle.

  “Hey,” she chided.

  His response was another wolfish grin. “What ground rules?”

  “You can’t control my life. Playtime is one thing. But I have work and responsibilities, a need for space and time on my own, away from everything. Including you. You can’t come breaking into my house anytime you darn well please. I am not a woman of convenience, or a kept woman. I am not your booty call to be summoned at a moment’s notice and discarded when you are finished with me. When we are in public, you dictate nothing. And I do mean nothing. Not what I’m wearing or eating or doing. That’s all off-limits.”

  With every passing item she ticked off her list, another line creased Chase’s forehead. By the time she was finished, his brow was thoroughly furrowed, and his mouth was set in a grim frown. “First off, I would not treat anyone as a booty call. What about this kind of relationship is so difficult for you to understand? It’s about taking care of you. Right now, what I’m doing, it’s aftercare. It’s to help your body and mind adjust to the real world again in a slow, comfortable manner instead of jumping face-first into reality, though you seem to be doing just fine with that. Being your Dom is about supporting you, and yes, sometimes that means making decisions.”

  “No.” This was a point on which she would not budge.

  “So making decisions outside of play or the bedroom is a hard limit for you?”

  “I don’t know what that means.” She could guess, but she didn’t want to be wrong. They had to be clear and up-front about what she was and wasn’t getting into, or she’d never survive the next four weeks. She’d made a deal, and she was going to keep it. Take it as a personal challenge to really see if she could be a submissive.

  God, her parents would kill her if they knew she was entertaining the idea. That she’d already let Chase push her so far past her comfort zone she wasn’t sure which end was up. The disgust on her father’s face before he’d locked her in her bedroom when she was a kid flashed through her mind, but she pushed it away, like she always did, and focused on the present. She’d let him run enough of her life; she wasn’t going to let him taint the path she was on now.

  “It means that this is something you would never allow to happen, and if it did, we would be done.”

  “Okay, then yeah. That’s definitely a hard limit. Outside the confines of this room, I can’t be kowtowing to you, doting on you, obeying you.” Ugh, just the thought of it was like a cold shower. She shivered, and not in the good way.

  “Wow.”

  “What?” she asked.

  His hands stilled on her hamstrings, and he leaned down next to her, his head a few inches away from hers. Those dark eyes searched her face. “That really hits a nerve for you, doesn’t it?”

  She swallowed. Crap. Was she that transparent, or was he that observant? She wasn’t sure, but it didn’t really matter. The result was the same. She nodded, her cheek rubbing against the pillowcase. Even that slight movement felt sensual.

  “You want to talk about it?” The fact that he asked instead of demanded gave her a glimmer of hope. Maybe this being-submissive thing didn’t have to mean giving up her whole self for someone else.

  “More daddy issues, I guess.”

  His lips pressed into a line. “Abusive?” he asked after a moment of staring at her.

  “Not strictly speaking. Never physically, at least. But harsh. Traditional, head-of-household, my-word-is-law crap. Emotionally abusive, definitely.”

  “Is he a Dom?”

  “God, no! He’s way too straitlaced for that. This stuff, if he knew I was doing it, he’d probably keel over from a heart attack. It’s… Well, in case you didn’t notice, I kind of have a strong personality.”

  His wry grin told her he had, in fact, noticed.

  “And that was a problem from the minute I was born. I was as strong-willed as a kid as I am now. Maybe more so because when you’re a kid, the power struggle for independence is worse. And anything that didn’t fit inside his perfect little family persona was unacceptable. Pretty much everything I did fell on the list of unacceptable.”

  “So is that why you write erotic romance?”

  “Probably.”

  He laughed.

  “No, seriously, I started writing to escape when I was young, trying to figure out a way to do what I wanted. Being locked in my bedroom with bars on the window for hours at a time meant I had the freedom to do a lot of writing. Some reading, though only certain books that were allowed in the house. My mind and the stories that came out of it—those were things he couldn’t take away from me. As you know, I still have some language issues, with the swearing. That was a lesson I learned real quick. Swearing under my parents’ roof was like the worst sin, right up there with sex and drugs. And I was a trifecta of badness, doing all three by sixteen. Sneaking out—hell, breaking out whenever I got the chance.”

  “And where did tattoos fall on that list?” he asked as he reached out and traced his way down the main branch on her back.

  “I got the one on my foot the day I turned eighteen. I wore socks a lot that year. I was out of the house, thank God, but I still saw my family regularly.”

  “Family’s important, but if they make you feel so miserable, it might be a good idea to distance yourself from them.” His words were as gentle as his hands, and for the first time, she really believed what he’d been trying to tell her about a D/s relationship.

  She bought into the idea that he was just a man, albeit a Dom, and he wanted to help her in some way. Maybe even protect her. Not since tackling her father and storming out of her parents’ house had she felt like maybe she would be okay. Until now. She’d been ignoring the hollowness inside her by burying herself in her book for three days and nights straight, barely stopping to eat or snooze. Now she’d had a lot of downtime, and the hollowness threatened to consume her. Except Chase was here, helping her keep it at bay.

  “Well, I don’t think it’ll be a problem anymore.” Usually her mom called every few days to discuss banal stuff or prattle on about a church function or her dad’s career. It had been radio silence for the better part of a week now. She didn’t think she’d ever gone that long without at least one message from her mom. And though she knew it was probably for the best, an ache unfurled inside her.

  Chase closed his eyes briefly, a slight pained expression on his face. “That’s why you were so upset the other night? You had a falling-out with your parents?”

  “Oh, you could say that.”

  Chase resumed rubbing her sore muscles, but he lowered his body fully to the mattress and lay next to her. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d lain in bed with a guy and talked like this. As she took a second to really think about it, she figured it had been never. This was something her characters did, baring their souls and allowing intimacy with other human beings. She hadn’t thought she was capable of it. Until now.

  Maybe breaking down the kink barriers and trusting Chase with her body had loosened the iron walls she’d kept up around her emotional self. She sighed.

  “You okay?”

  She shifted, rolling out her shoulders and inching her arms lower so her fingers were more in-line with her chin instead of her hairline. Chase turned onto his side, his left hand coming out to touch hers while his right continued pressing into her fle
sh.

  “Yeah, just thinking.”

  “What happened with your parents?”

  “I was a moron. I left my purse unattended; my notebook was sticking out. I’d started writing scenes for the book in there—notes, that kind of thing. My dad saw it and lost his cool. Started screaming and stuff. Then he went to chuck it in a sink full of soapy water. I tackled him.” She burst into a fit of giggles. It had been comical, really, the way she’d flown through the air to reach him before he could release his hold on her precious words.

  Chase was trying to hold off a smile; she could see it sparkling in his eyes and in the way his cheek muscles twitched. She laughed harder. He shook his head. “You are a wild woman,” he said, grinning. “Clearly only a bedroom sub.”

  Eventually she managed to stop laughing. “Right. I guess.”

  “That means you’re only submissive in a bedroom or a sexual setting. Like at the club, you would still be my submissive in the main areas as well as in private because it’s part of the lifestyle, and here in your bedroom, or in my office when there was sex or sexual satisfaction involved, you would submit. But the minute we walked out the doors of the club, or here, out of the bedroom, you wouldn’t be submissive.”

  “And that’s, like, a thing? Only being submissive when I want to be?” Was that excitement in her voice? Quite possibly. That could be a lifestyle she might be able to get behind.

  “That’s not what I said, and you know it.” His voice held a warning. “And we are still in the bedroom.” The light in his eyes told her he was teasing. Mostly. There was a kernel of truth to his words.

  “So what does that mean for us?”

  “Whatever we want it to. That’s the hardest thing for people who don’t live this lifestyle to grasp: there is no right or wrong way to be kinky. As long as it’s between consenting adults, everything else is up for discussion and different for every couple.”

  She took a deep breath that quickly turned into a yawn.

 

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