10 Shades of Seduction

by Tiffany Reisz

  Guy thinks of the time with Hadley and the strap-on. He thinks of what made him cry that night, and he nods.

  “On your knees, boy.”

  Guy drops to his knees on the bathroom floor. Dean slides a thumb between Guy’s lips. “Suck it,” he says. “Show me what you can do.”

  Guy’s cock is a rod in his leather pants. He sucks Dean’s thumb, and he stares up at the handsome dom, wanting so badly to suck something else, to drain Dean to the root.

  * * *

  Hadley’s thighs are around Frost’s waist, her body pressed to his. She knows they’re going to fuck again, soon, but she wants him to talk to her first. She needs to know.

  “She left,” he says, “and I didn’t want to try again. I got used to having what I have.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing is easy.” He laughs, but darkly. “I don’t mean it the way that sounds. It was easy growing accustomed to having nothing.”

  “Sounds Zen.”

  He shakes his head. “I’m not the type.”

  “You don’t have to be like that anymore.”

  He slides the head of his cock inside her. She can feel her pussy respond automatically. They are good together. They fit. She has no idea how well.

  Frost fucks her against the wall, and Hadley feels the magic of being with someone who knows how to touch you. She has her eyes closed, her head back. Frost is so strong. He balances her easily in his big hands, maneuvers her exactly the way he wants. He has her positioned on his thighs for a moment, and she remembers the first glimpse she had of him as she entered the gym. The power that she felt.

  He runs a hand over her clit, and she keens low and sweet under her breath. She feels so real in his hands. He understands suddenly that he has to come clean. He made her bare her soul to him. “I have to tell you something,” he says.

  He’s fucking her as he talks. She can’t find the breath to respond.

  “I’m not new...not to what you like. What you need.”

  He has her clit between his thumb and forefinger, and he bears down, giving her too much pressure. No, not too much. So much. She feels as if she will explode with the sensation. She’s too overwhelmed to unravel what he’s telling her. “What do you mean?” She’s panting.

  He pulls out and carries her to the bed. He spreads her facedown on his mattress and waits for her to turn her head and look at him. Frost has made the decision—he can be honest with her. He presses his mouth to her ear. “Hadley,” he says, “You don’t have to explain things to me.”

  * * *

  “Open wide,” Dean says, and Guy parts his lips. Dean has his cock out, and he sets the head on Guy’s bottom lip. Guy starts to suck. He doesn’t think he will last long. He’s sure he will come right in his pants. He wonders what will happen if he does. As if reading his thoughts, Dean says, “Don’t you dare get off from sucking my cock, boy.”

  Guy gazes up at his new dom, hope vibrant in his dark brown eyes.

  “If you do, I’ll have to take you home and punish that saucy ass of yours. I’ll use you in ways you’ve never even dreamed about.” Dean ruffles Guy’s hair, and he smiles at his new toy. “But then again, I’ll do that either way.”

  Guy sighs with pleasure. This is a dream come true.

  * * *

  Frost can tell that she still doesn’t understand. She looks over her shoulder at him, watches as he pulls his belt free from the loops of his discarded jeans. He doubles the leather. Makes the belt snap. She sees the finesse in his movements. She can’t believe what he’s saying. “I don’t get it. Why would you let me go through all that? Why wouldn’t you just say...” She pushes herself up on her hands and knees.

  He pushes her back down and shrugs as he looks at her. “I was done. Until I met you, that is. I was all finished.”

  “Yeah, but you said, you told me...” She pushes up again.

  “Get back into position, kid. Now.”

  She glares at him and he lets the belt land against her naked ass cheeks, once, twice. She knows enough not to put a hand back to cover herself. Still, he puts one hand in the small of her back and forces her against the mattress. He licks her with the belt a third again. This time the leather stings. She bucks against the mattress, unable to stop herself. “You said you never had anyone in your power....”

  He shakes his head. “You’ll have to listen to my words better in the future.”

  “I’m a good listener.” But a bad sub, she thinks. He stripes her again.

  “I wanted to hear you tell me what you needed. I wanted you to spell out every desire. I wanted to know why you want what you want. You say you want 24/7. I have to be sure.”

  It wasn’t fair, he thinks. He played her. But she played him, too. There are games, every once in a while, where everyone wins.

  “God, I knew,” she says. But how had she known? Seeing him like that across the gym had sparked something inside her. She’d sensed his power then; she sees it in action now. He whips her twice more, then opens the closet and shows her what’s there. The tools. The weapons. The whips and crops and paddles. Her heart throbs. She sees on the top of the closet a row of books. From the spines she recognizes the ones she sent him—doubles, obviously, of the ones he already has. Plus other classic BDSM titles: The 120 Days of Sodom. Justine. Gritty. The Punishment of Sleeping Beauty.

  “You want to be with me,” he says. It’s a statement, but she nods, then says, “Yes, Reed.” Has she ever called him by his name before? The name sounds right on her lips.

  “You’re sure? Because I can’t go through this again unless I know.”

  She looks at him. The connection is more than combustible. She doesn’t want to keep her hands off him. “Yes.”

  “Tell me what you want. I need to hear you say the words.”

  “You,” she says.

  “But why?” He grabs a paddle and comes toward her. “You give me a reason, and if I like what you have to say, I’ll put you over my lap and spank your ass.”

  She works to hide the grin. She knew ass was in his vocabulary somewhere.

  Frost sits on the edge of the mattress and pulls her over his lap. He strokes her bare skin with his palm, and Hadley slides her pussy against his thigh. She thinks about what she wants to say, how she can explain to Frost her desires. Clearly, she doesn’t have to unravel the whole mystery of BDSM for him. She only has to come clean about herself.

  “You know 9½ Weeks?”

  “Of course,” he says. It’s like the Bible of their world.

  “I’ve mentally rewritten the ending too many times to count,” she says. He lands one blistering blow on her bottom. Then another. She can imagine what her ass looks like. She’s been on the “doling out” side of so many punishment sessions. He’s not holding back, either. She continues. “Why couldn’t they have stayed together? Why did the character have to go crazy?”

  He spanks her again, and she grinds her pussy into his leg, getting the contact she craves.

  “I always thought that if they kept going, they’d work everything out.”

  “Optimist,” he says.

  “Realist. I want a BDSM story with a happy ending....”

  He strikes again, catching her sweet spot. She moans, but she doesn’t stop talking.

  “I want the tenth week. And the eleventh, and the twelfth. Until ultimately I want to lose count of the weeks.”

  He paddles to the cadence of her words.

  “I want to live in a world where everyone gets what they need, and nobody is punished for their desires.”

  He spanks her again.

  “Unless their desire is to be punished.”

  Frost drops the paddle and pulls her upright. He parts her thighs, splits her pussy lips and sits her down on his cock. She feels how hard he is, how wet she is. They are perfectly joined.

  “Baby,” Frost says as he kisses her. He’s made her work for this. Now comes her reward. “Welcome to the beginning...”

  “The
beginning?” Her eyes are wet. He kisses her cheeks.

  “...the beginning of your happy ending.”

  * * * * *

  LETTING GO

  Sarah McCarty

  The car pulled up in front of the dark cabin. The white glow of the moon reflecting off newly fallen snow highlighted the isolation of the log home set at the foot of the mountain. It was perfect. Remote. Comfortable. And it was theirs for the weekend. No work. No pets. Nothing to distract them from each other.

  The uncharacteristic shyness that had been plaguing her the entire four-hour trip came back in spades as Marc switched off the car’s engine. Which was absolutely ridiculous. They’d planned this weekend for a month. Nothing was going to happen here that either of them hadn’t eagerly anticipated, but now that it was time for the planning to give birth to fantasy, she was shy to the point of blushing. She, the woman who never blushed, never got embarrassed. Never lost control.

  Becky pretended an interest in the scenery as the driver’s side door opened. Marc’s gaze slid over her like a touch, poking at her insecurities, asking silent questions she didn’t want to answer. Anticipation and nerves fluttered in her stomach in a queasy combination. She made her expression blank to hide her discomfort.

  Marc sighed. The door creaked open. “We don’t have to do this, you know.”

  She kept her voice just as balanced as her expression. “Yes, we do.” Because she was so sick of not being who she wanted to be with him.

  “Then why the cold shoulder?”

  That got her looking at him. He thought she was brushing him off? She took a subtle steadying breath, inhaling the scent of the outdoors...and Marc. Both were clean, crisp and intangibly tied together in her mind, maybe because they’d met on a weekend kayak excursion, but more than likely because the man was as elemental as the forest around them.

  She unclenched fists she didn’t know she’d been clenching. Good grief! No wonder he was asking questions. She looked more ready to go into battle than indulge in a romantic weekend. Becky shook her head at her own idiocy, her hair swishing around her shoulders with the movement. She brushed a strand away from her mouth. “Believe it or not, I’m nervous.”

  “Why?”

  He didn’t try to make eye contact again, which was good. If she’d looked at him, pride would have demanded she lie. “Because I’m afraid I might not live up to your expectations.”

  The back of his fingers brushed down the side of her cheek. His low chuckle still sent a shiver down her spine the way it had the first time she’d heard it. Not for the first time she wondered what attracted him to her. He was as sexy and as uninhibited as a man could get, and she had more inhibitions than...well, than anyone needed.

  “Baby, we’ve been married for two years—do you really think I don’t know what you’re capable of?”

  She looked at him then, taking in the amusement and understanding in his gaze. He was so sure this wasn’t going to be a disaster. “Neither of us knows that.”

  His smile was a slow, sexy stretch of the lips she’d seen many times before. Masculine. Knowing. And confident. He was always so confident. “I know.”

  She clung to that confidence as his hand skimmed her neck, her shoulder, then her thigh. A pat on her knee followed by a quick squeeze and then he was out of the car, leaving her alone with her hopes, fears, and that borrowed bravado. Crisp night air swept in on his exit and she jumped as the door thudded shut.

  She shook her head at her own cowardice. They’d devoted this weekend to obliterating the inhibitions between them. Inhibitions neither wanted. Becky slung her purse over her shoulder, watching in the rearview mirror as Marc walked around the back, a tall muscular silhouette cast in moonlight. Cowering in the car wasn’t an impressive start on her side.

  She yanked the latch and shoved the door open. Snow crunched beneath her feet as she stood and stretched. The night sky expanded before her, a satiny carpet of black speckled with shining stars and dotted with glowing planets. She took a deep breath of the frigid air, shivering as it bit into her lungs.

  A cloud wafted across the moonlit sky. She released her breath, watching the frozen vapor rise until it seemed to meld with that wispy traveler, becoming more than what it was, and yet still less than it would be. For a minute more, she watched the cloud skate along, free and unfettered, and then smiled as, with absolute certainty, she knew everything was going to be all right. There was nothing she and he couldn’t do. Nothing they couldn’t accomplish. Not together. Together, they were like that cloud. More than what they had been before, yet ever growing with boundless potential. She just had to stop being afraid to let go.

  Anticipation skittered through her veins as she walked around the back of the car. The view here was as interesting as the night sky, seeing as Marc was stretched forward, retrieving a suitcase. The man had the body of a runner, roped with lean, hard muscle. She slid her hands up the side of his thighs, smiling as taut muscle flexed under her touch, gliding them up over his narrow hips, under his jacket, around his waist.

  He jumped at the chill of her hands and then relaxed into her hug, settling his palms over hers, pressing them into his abdomen. As always, he communicated so much with a touch, his thoughts as clear as if he’d spoken. She pressed her cheek against the smooth leather of his jacket.

  “I love you, too,” she whispered. And because she couldn’t resist, added, “And I swear, I’m not going to be like this all weekend.”

  “Sweetheart, a few nerves aren’t going to send me running scared.”

  “Even if I babble occasionally?”

  He turned in her arms, his hands dropping to the hollow of her spine. “I’ve never seen you babble. Might be cute to witness.”

  She tilted her head. With a foot difference in their heights, she had to lean back a bit before she could see his expression. “Trust me, it’s not a pretty picture.”

  That half amused, half indulgent smile was still on his face. His head bent. Just before his mouth met hers, he whispered, “I’ll chance it.”

  If there was ever proof that the man got her, it was right there in his kiss. He didn’t just take what he wanted like she expected, but rather he seduced, his mouth rubbing against hers in a subtle coaxing that sapped the anxiety right out of her and replaced it with a warm willingness. Willingness to trust him, to do what he wanted, to be what he wanted. What she wanted.

  She opened her mouth and stretched up on her toes, accepting the thrust of his tongue, the natural dominance in his hold, tilting her head to give him more, letting him lead her past the point where caution said stop. Spreading her legs for the insertion of his thigh between, she checked her impulse to control the need to rub against him, following her instinct and his lead rather than her head. With her next breath she inhaled his groan of satisfaction.

  “That’s it. Just let it happen.”

  His grip moved to her hips, lifting her up against the thrust of his cock, pressing down as she worked her hips in an effort to get closer, to his heat, his cock, to him....

  Too soon he was sliding her down his body, setting her feet on the ground, separating their lips.

  “Hold that thought.”

  She didn’t want to hold anything but him. The press of his thumb at the corner of her mouth sent a shock wave of need through her. Everything she ever dreaded seeing in a man’s eyes was there in Marc’s: amusement, satisfaction and, worst of all, a complacent grin that said he knew exactly how weak she was when it came to him. But her inward flinch never got a running start because there was no malice in that grin, just a bone deep satisfaction that was as arousing as it was comforting because it said more than anything else that at least one of them knew what they were doing. And it was completely natural that it was him.

  His jacket whispered a protest as she slid her arms free. His hand cupped her cheek in one of those easy touches that reached all the way to her soul, catching her before she could step away. His hazel eyes were dark in the moonlight. She
leaned her cheek into his gloved palm and sighed. “I’m an idiot.”

  His answer was immediate. “Yes, you are, but you’re mine, and I kind of like you this way.”

  She raised her eyebrows. “A neurotic mess?”

  His thumb brushed her mouth and a chuckle quirked his lips before his hand dropped away. “Vulnerable.”

  She held out her hand for her suitcase. “Uh-huh. Well, don’t get used to it.”

  He paused before dragging the cooler out and putting it on the snow-encrusted ground. “I’ll try to keep my appreciation limited to the weekend.”

  She averted her eyes as he settled a brown box on the cooler’s white top. “Thank you.”

  He closed the trunk and hefted the cooler and box. “My pleasure.”

  Becky followed as Marc led the way down the hill to the cabin, admiring the way his jeans clung to his thighs with each step delineating the strength beneath. She wondered if he was thinking the same things she was. She wondered if his cock was hardening as quickly as her pussy was moistening. God! She wanted him. Wanted this. And, she shifted the suitcase as she hurried to keep up, she was not going to allow anything to stop her from obtaining her goal. She might have more than her fair share of inhibitions, but she also had more than her fair share of determination, and of the two qualities, the second was stronger than the first.

  The cabin was cold, the vaulted ceilings and log walls harboring the chill of the outside. She turned up the thermostat on the furnace and set to work on the fire as Marc made the bed and unpacked the food.

  From the corner of her eye, she could see the brown box on the coffee table, looking lost in the vastness of the room. The innocent-looking brown box that held all the sex toys they’d selected together. Anything and everything they’d seen that they thought they might use. It had been tough to ignore the expense, but as it seemed the height of ridiculousness to be prudent when pursuing decadence, she’d conquered her caution to the point of maybe going overboard. She battled an unreasonable urge to toss the throw from the couch over it.