by Stacey Lynn
Her body had been built for fucking. Breasts big enough for a handful and more than once I’d imagined her nipples. Rosy? Pink? Or were they darker? Shit.
I was hard again and still had to finish the scene.
“Fifteen,” I reminded Kaila and stood behind her. I glanced back to Rebecca one more time, flicked the crop against my thigh. Her eyes dropped and holy fuck, she licked her lips.
Did she like this? Want it? She was always so serious, so composed, I’d always imagined she was tied too tight for something like this.
But I was finding out. As soon as I was done here.
Focus, asshole.
Jesus. Rebecca scrambled my brain.
“Count them, sub.” I lifted my hand and flicked the crop, no longer even minimally pleased at the mark left behind on Kaila’s backside. She counted each smack perfectly. I paid attention to every movement, every flick of my crop, the way Kaila wrapped her fingers around the bindings. Forcing Rebecca out of my head, I focused on the scene in front of me. A crop could cause little pain, but that wasn’t the point. As a Dom, my job was to be in control, to take care of the sub in front of me regardless of the scene. My primary concern was her pleasure, joy in her submission. My pleasure was found in someone handing over control to me, entrusting their body—and maybe one day their heart and soul—to me because doing so thrilled me.
“Eight, sir. May I have another, please?”
“Thank you for your manners, Kaila.”
I flicked the crop again beneath her ass and sped up. She could do this for hours. The twenty minutes we were scheduled would barely be a warm-up for her, but she’d been a sub for years. Her manners were impeccable.
I finished up quickly and tossed the crop to the table before I unbound her wrists and ankles. I turned so I was facing the crowd again and blinked.
My jaw tensed. Rebecca was gone.
I soothed Kaila’s wrists and shoulders, bringing blood back into her limbs.
“You okay?” It was protocol to ask. “Need water?”
“No thank you, sir.” She lifted her head, met my gaze. “I’d appreciate a blanket, though.”
I twisted and grabbed the fluffy pink blanket she’d worn out onto the stage and wrapped it around her shoulders. “You sure you have someone to help you? I can stay.”
Kaila rolled her eyes. “Please. You have other things to do, I can tell. And I’ll be fine, sir.”
“Find someone.”
She gestured to a couple off to the side. Two Doms who I didn’t know but had seen at the club before. One of them was way more intense than anyone I’d ever seen before, his love of electro play scared the hell out of me. He’d be perfect for Kaila. “Don’t worry. I’ve got one in mind.”
I stayed close as she approached the Dom and spoke to him. He looked at me for approval to take her and I nodded, giving it easily.
When they were gone, I cleaned up the St. Andrew’s cross with disinfectant wipes and reset all the implements on the table for the next set of demonstrations.
So much of BDSM was methodical. There were protocols and rules and all of it was meant to ensure that anything that happened between two parties was safe, sane and consensual. My interest in it hadn’t began like other Doms when I discovered some deep urge to tie some woman to a bench and smack her ass and leave my marks on her. My desires weren’t that primal.
I needed order. I needed control. I’d been raised in a life where every minute had been planned and calculated and somehow during my teenage years when I quit trying to fight against the obscene expectations my parents had for me and surrendered to them, that was when I’d truly grown.
A woman giving that control to me, surrendering to herself and to me, feeling free whether she was at my side or at my feet, went beyond anything more beautiful than I could describe.
And knowing there was even the tiniest inkling of a chance that Rebecca Morales was interested in something like that, gave me a new target.
A new mission.
I shoved my hands in my pockets and walked off the stage.
Oh, yeah. Happy New Year to me.
* * *
Rebecca was easy to find in the crowd. My dick, the heat seeking missile he was when it came to her succulent curves and full lips, twitched with interest as soon as I spotted her caramel-colored hair falling in a straight sheet down her back. She was at the bar, her back to me, and speaking to a couple I knew from my years as a member.
I didn’t frequent Luminous as often as other Doms, but Shawn and Miranda Lawson had been married for ten years and were some of the original members when Dylan opened the club. They were impossible to miss considering they came several times a month and had no problems putting on shows in the public rooms for anyone who wanted to watch them. I’d spent time doing much the same, although I didn’t speak to them often. I wasn’t a voyeur, but it was difficult not to become enthralled with Shawn as he flogged Miranda in a way that left no doubt he was completely, one hundred and ten percent, devoted to his wife. They spoke a silent language with looks and gestures and flickers of eyelashes that made me yearn for someone to connect with on that deep, unspoken level.
Someone who knew me down to the marrow of my bones.
Based on her easiness with the couple, I assumed she came with them and that spun a dozen more questions in my mind. Why was she here? How did she know them? Was she interested in their lifestyle?
Would she let me teach her all about it?
As soon as the question came to mind, the answer burned in my brain. Yes. I wasn’t taking no for an answer.
The first time Rebecca stepped foot into my doorway, my dick went so hard, strained against the zipper of my dress pants, I’d clenched my jaw together to keep from groaning. I’d been an ass, but there was no way in hell I could have stood and greeted her properly. An obvious boner when greeting your new assistant was a lawsuit waiting to happen.
Since then, it was easier to be a jerk and keep my distance. Seeing her pissed and glaring at me, feeling her sneer at me while I walked away was much more pleasant than the hard-on I’d rage if she ever smiled at me.
Seeing it now directed at other people was difficult enough. If she ever flashed that unencumbered smile at me, I’d be a goner. Screw her being at my feet in submission, I’d be the one dropping to my knees to worship her.
I approached the group slowly, taking time to drink in Rebecca, see her unhindered by her conservative office attire and even more serious manners. Her dress sparkled as she moved, the light above catching the sequins and as I moved closer, dropped my gaze to the hem of her dress. Short. So fucking short that if she pressed a foot to the rung of the barstool in front of her I’d get a peek of what color underwear she had on. My guess, and there were many, was black.
Or maybe she was bare. Damn...that was a thrilling thought. Did uptight, prissy Rebecca Morales go bare beneath her pencil skirts? I’d always envisioned pink or white satin thongs, something simple to match her professionalism. But perhaps there was a wild side beneath the prim and proper Miss Morales I hadn’t yet seen.
The dress alone told me there was.
The idea of her bare pussy, slick with moisture from watching me use a crop...pretty picture indeed.
“Hello, Rebecca,” I greeted, forcing my gaze to stay on her eyes. Her dress scooped down to just above her breasts, revealing only a hint of delicious cleavage. Leering at my assistant was never a good idea, though, in the office or out of it. “I see you managed to finish your work today after all.”
“Mr. Ashby.” Ah, that sneer. It was lovelier than she believed it to be. I drank up her anger like an alcoholic chugged his booze. “Shawn and Miranda Lawson, Bennett Ashby.”
With a quick flick of her head, she gestured to her companions and I couldn’t help but grin. The blush on her cheeks a
nd the fluttering pulse at the base of her throat told me all I needed to know. So did the way her glass shook in her hands.
She was affected by my presence and it wasn’t entirely the daily anger I was so used to experiencing.
“We’ve met,” I said and turned to Shawn, holding out my hand. Manners demanded it but even the brief turn away from Rebecca was too much. “Nice to see you two. Happy New Year.”
“You as well, Bennett.” Shawn shook my hand firmly, not once taking his gaze off me. I had him by four inches and probably fifty pounds, but this was why I respected the man. He wasn’t intimated by anyone or anything. “How do you two know each other?”
“Rebecca works for me.”
“He’s my boss.”
We spoke at the same time. Well, I spoke and Rebecca muttered. Her displeasure at my arrival was evident from the hard set of her shoulders and refusal to look at me.
No matter. I’d have her eyes on me soon.
Miranda’s eyes flashed and Shawn let go of my hand. “I see. I didn’t realize you were Rebecca’s boss, Bennett.”
“I told you I worked for Ashby Enterprises as an Executive Assistant.”
Shawn grinned. “So you did, I suppose I just didn’t make the connection when you were talking about your job.”
“And saying great, exceptional things about your boss?” I added. She’d moved away when Shawn began speaking. I wanted her closer. Wanted those mulled wine colored lips to plump in frustration. Anything but a smile.
She turned to me and smirked. “Something like that.”
See? I knew Rebecca. At least well enough to pull a reaction from her. In all honesty, I knew nothing about her. Not for lack of trying either. I might have been President of Ashby Enterprises, taking over when my father retired after a lifetime being groomed for the position, but Human Resources still had their rules. I wasn’t allowed private information for personal reasons, despite how often I’d tried to sweet talk my way into getting it. And since I enjoyed being president of the company, and actually respected my employees, I wasn’t going to become some domineering ruler in order to get my way.
I preferred to save the domineering for the bedroom.
“I’d like to speak with you,” I said to Rebecca. “Alone.”
She gripped her glass tighter, refused to look at me. “I came with friends and I’m busy.”
“Um, actually,” Miranda said, her gaze flickering between Rebecca and me. “We have to go do our demo now.” She made a face and Rebecca rolled her eyes.
“Of course you do. Go, have fun, get kinky, all that stuff.” She turned to me abruptly. “Tell me, Bennett, when you’re preparing to beat someone senseless on a stage in front of dozens of watchers, is there any good luck phrase you enjoy hearing? Like a ballet dancer is told break a leg? Do Doms enjoy hearing something similar, like, ‘whip her senseless’? Or maybe, ‘beat her nice and good’?”
“And, that’s our cue to go,” Miranda giggled and squeezed Rebecca’s forearm. “Play nice and behave.”
“Yes,” I cut in. “Let’s play nice.”
A furious heat flushed her cheeks and she rocked back on her heels. Yeah, she liked that.
Or she was getting ready to take a swing at me, and I’d seen the heels she was wearing, mighty spikey they were. Stilettos crunching on shinbones felt like shit. I stepped to the side just in case.
“Rebecca,” Shawn said, already having his arm wrapped around his wife and turning to leave. “Remember my promise.” His glance slid to mine and back to her. “Got it?”
She rolled her eyes at him. Whatever warning or code they had, she was brushing it off with a playful wink. “Go, whip your wife senseless.”
“You’re a nut,” he said. “We’ll be back soon.”
They left and I slid into Shawn’s spot at the bar, directly in front of her so she had no way to ignore me without making it obvious. I doubted she’d do it. She was too stubborn.
“So. You wanted to talk?”
I lifted one of my drink tickets in the air and waited for the bartender to fill a drink before answering. Now that we were alone, there were too many questions I had rolling in my head. Plus, I liked the idea of making her impatient.
Marissa, the bartender, snapped the ticket out of my fingertips and dumped a glassful of ice into a tumbler.
“Come here often?” Rebecca muttered next to me.
“Enough that Marissa knows I rarely drink but when I do it’s a vodka tonic, yes.”
Her lips pressed together and she looked away. The flush was gone from her cheeks and when Marisa slid my drink onto the bar in front of me, I handed her a hefty tip. “Thanks, Marissa.”
“No problem, sir.”
She turned with efficiency to fill the next glass and I twisted, smiling behind the tumbler when I caught sight of Rebecca’s pout.
“I’m surprised to see you here.”
“That’s because I’ve never been here.”
“You don’t seem like the kind of woman interested in this.”
“Really? What kind of woman do I seem to be then?” She shook her head. “Forget I asked. I don’t really care what kind of woman you think I am.”
I didn’t triple my father’s earnings on his company in four years by missing the tiny openings like she’d just given me.
“No? You don’t want to know what I think of you? What if I tell you anyway?” She opened her mouth, I presumed to argue with me, so I kept going without giving her a chance. I leaned forward, dropped my head and lowered my voice until I was speaking almost against her flesh. And Jesus, fuck. Her scent. Sweet and creamy, vanilla but something else, too. Intoxicating. “You don’t want to know how often I’ve considered bending you over my desk and spanking you?”
Chapter Four
Rebecca
Good Lord, the things he was saying to me. The way he was looking at me, like he was the lion and I was the wounded prey. He’d eat me up and swallow me whole. This was a side of Bennett I hadn’t seen before and I wasn’t altogether sure I wanted to see more of.
Already I knew I couldn’t show up at work Monday and forget the way his words were making me feel. Feverish, hot and tingly all over.
But it couldn’t be desire causing the ache between my legs. No way. Not at the image he’d just seared into my brain.
“You don’t even have to respond,” he said, still whispering. His warm breath cascaded across my cheekbones, down the column of my throat. Yet somehow, I wasn’t moving away. “I can see the flush of your cheeks. You might not like that I’ve thought of it, but admit, you’re curious. That’s why you’re here, on a night like this.”
Ah, but that was where he was wrong. Dead wrong. I wasn’t curious. Not at all.
“I came because my friends, my neighbors, invited me.”
“But you watched me take a crop to Kaila’s ass because somewhere, deep inside of you, you’re intrigued by all of this.”
He was wrong. He had to be. I wasn’t intrigued. I asked Miranda questions because I wanted to ensure she was safe in her relationship. I asked her questions because what I saw in her house scared me. And I hated that stupid emotion. I lived most of my youth in fear. Knowledge was power.
“Stop,” I said. I was breathless. He’d stolen it with his husky voice and nearness. Inside the office Bennett Ashby was a bossy prick, but here, standing way too close to me, he was overpowering. All-consuming.
“You’ve spoken to Miranda about BDSM, I presume?”
“Yes.” I faced him, uncertain where he was going with this. In return, I was greeted with a flare in his eyes that sent a heated pulse to my sex. Crapitty crap crap. He couldn’t be right.
“Then you know that ‘stop’ isn’t an acceptable safe word. If you want me to leave, Rebecca, all you have to do
is ask. But, if you’d like to experience something more beautiful and pleasurable than you ever have before, I’m asking you, give me your hand and give me one night to show you all that this lifestyle has to offer.”
My hands shook so bad I set my glass of water down. Curling my hands around the edge of the bar, I steadied myself. Everything he said rocked me back on my heels. I was shaking, a trembling mess of nerves and fear, but that wasn’t the only thing. I could deny it all I wanted, but I’d be lying.
Bennett was one of the sexiest men I’d ever laid eyes on. He was emboldened and brash. Rude and bossy. Yet confidence poured from him like the richest scent of the finest wine. If anyone could deliver on what he was saying, it was him. I didn’t take many men to bed. I was too particular. I sought out soft men, kind men with manners and chivalry, but at the end of the few recent dates I’d had, a simple kiss on the cheek had done nothing for me. I had no desire to see them again. And the ones I did take to bed, the sex was perfunctory. Finished with little warm-up and foreplay and the rare climax.
I’d figured I was broken in some way. The way my body was responding to Bennett’s mere words told me perhaps I wasn’t.
He was still standing close, but he’d pulled back. He was leisurely sipping his drink like he controlled the world around him, had all the patience, all the time to wait for my answer.
“What would it entail?” Was that my voice that sounded so raw?
As if sensing my nerves, how drastically far outside my comfort zone this entire conversation, this night was, he had the grace not to smile in victory. He set down his glass and leaned forward, hands clasped together on the bar.
“We’ll go somewhere. Talk. See what you would like to experience, and go from there. But if you know anything about BDSM, you know that nothing happens without your informed consent, and you have the power to stop it any time.”