Long for Me

by Stacey Lynn

  He made it sound so simple, yet my heart was rioting inside my chest like a runaway freight train.

  “If it helps you relax, I can tell you that what you saw tonight is not typically what I prefer.”

  He’d used a crop on a half-naked woman. From my conversations with Miranda, I knew a crop barely left a sting, much less any pain. So was it less or more than he preferred? I didn’t have the guts to ask.

  “I’m not sure that helps, no.”

  “Then perhaps I can allay all the fears I see swirling in your mind, and tell you that I don’t prefer to use toys or tools. When I drive a woman to orgasms, when she’s writhing beneath me, I prefer knowing that it’s my hands causing her delicious ache, it’s my hands and my words and my body that is driving her mindless, over and over and over again.”

  His hand settled on my shoulder and I shivered from the heat of his palm. What he described was fantastical. Not nearly as scary as the cross or the floggers hanging in the armoire in Miranda’s guest bedroom. He described things I wanted to experience: raw, mind-blowing, multiple-orgasming sex.

  I opened my mouth to say yes, when I reached a hurdle that couldn’t be jumped. “You’re my boss, Bennett.”

  “And what happens on our personal time can be kept personal. One night, that’s what I’m asking for, and when we’re done, if you can tell me that you never want to experience anything close to submission again, I’ll respect it.”

  “With no pressure?”

  “Ah, Rebecca.” I felt his smile against my cheek as he leaned forward. “Don’t you remember, what I said? You have all the power here, even when I have you on your knees. Never confuse submission for weakness. You might be the one doing what you’re told, but you always have all of the power.”

  It was that contradiction I never understood. Perhaps there was only one way to learn it.

  “One night,” I croaked. I flinched from the dryness in my throat and reached for my water. “When?”

  His grin went wicked. Excitement travelled to the tips of my toes and fingers.

  He held out his hand, palm up and wiggled his fingers. “Why, tonight, of course.”

  I lifted my hand, fingertips trembling. Something unknown was buzzing in my veins, when an arm flung around my shoulders and yanked me away from him.

  “I see you’re still here,” Miranda said, hugging me tightly. “How are you two getting along?”

  “Perfectly,” Bennett said. He arched a brow, daring me to argue with him.

  “How are you doing?” I asked Miranda. Thank goodness for her. Being in my friend’s embrace soothed me. I needed it more than ever. Now that she was here, and Shawn who had stopped next to Bennett, the realization of what I agreed to was unsettling.

  Miranda winked and pulled back from me. “Well warmed up.” She settled into Shawn like she always did.

  “Lovely to hear,” I murmured, and brought my glass of water to my lips.

  I had almost placed my hand in Bennett’s, allowed him to treat me like nothing more than a doormat and use me to simply get his rocks off. That’s what this was about, right?

  Men using women to their satisfaction.

  But the things he’d said. The visual he painted of something more than blissful.

  The same patience from earlier was simmering in his deep brown eyes as if he understood my sudden fear.

  “If you’ll excuse me,” Bennett said, setting his glass down. “I believe Rebecca and I were about to leave.”

  Or, maybe not. Crap.

  “Were you?” Shawn asked. His gaze flickered back and forth between us and he tightened his hold on Miranda. “Rebecca came with us.”

  “And with your permission, I’ll be taking her home.” He spoke like he actually needed Shawn’s approval and I almost stumbled backward, settling myself before I did so. Bennett wasn’t the kind of man who required permission from anyone.

  “I see,” Shawn said. “Are you okay with this, Rebecca?”

  His head tilted, next to him, Miranda giggled. She covered her mouth with her fingers to hide it but amusement shone in her pretty blue eyes.

  “Well, um.” Bennett leaned toward me, tipped his head until his mouth was against my ear. His spicy scent washed over me like a waterfall. His mere presence undoing all the rationality I’d reached for.

  “Submit to me, Rebecca. One night. You’ll be treated like a queen and given more pleasure than anything you’ve imagined. Give me this night to show you.”

  “And if I say yes? What then?”

  “Then you’ll be screaming my name, multiple times throughout the night and into the morning.”

  It was wicked. Unrealistic. So very, very tempting.

  “And we won’t mention this at the office?”

  “If that’s what has you worried, then I promise you. I will not bring up anything that occurs between us at the office, unless you mention it first.”

  And that wouldn’t happen. What did I have to lose? One night to see what all the fuss was about. One night to understand what submitting truly meant beyond Miranda’s descriptions.

  One night to have my body used by Bennett Ashby.

  “Okay then.” He held out his hand again and I placed mine in his.

  His grin turned victoriously beautiful, blinding me from the whiteness of his teeth and the wicked tilt of his lips.

  He turned to Shawn. “Perhaps it will make you more comfortable if Rebecca and I follow you and Miranda back home. She mentioned you were her neighbors.”

  “Works for me,” Miranda chirped.

  “Rebecca?” Shawn asked.

  I grinned at Shawn. His protectiveness over me simply because I was friends with his wife made everything rattle inside my brain. “That’s acceptable.”

  “Said with the enthusiasm of a woman being led to slaughter,” Bennett muttered, lips still tilted into a grin.

  Huh. Perhaps he had a sense of humor hidden beneath all his scowls and arrogance.

  “I suppose you’ll have to prove me wrong, then.”

  “Ah, that Miss Morales, will be my absolute pleasure.”

  Gulp.

  * * *

  We were in Bennett’s black Audi. In front of us, Shawn’s BMW taillights stayed close. So far, Bennett had been a gentleman. After my agreement, he’d ushered me out of Luminous with all the gentlemanly qualities I typically sought. One hand on my lower back, guiding me gently but purposefully. When we reached outside, he’d taken off his black suit coat and draped it over my shoulders so I’d stay warm. We’d walked just behind Shawn and Miranda and when we reached Bennett’s car, he waited until Shawn pulled up next to us before pulling onto the street and following them.

  As soon as my hand slid into his, something between us had shifted. It stripped my confidence and my conversation, like I’d suddenly gone mute, waiting for his commands.

  Meanwhile, Bennett had walked as arrogantly and confident as ever, shoulders back, spine straight, chin up, although he’d slowed his steps to a more manageable pace for me to walk with him.

  Since he’d guided me into the passenger seat, not closing the door until I was settled and buckled in, the only sound in the car had been the bumps of his tires over potholes and cracks. Needless to say, I was a nervous wreck.

  “Are you aware that your thoughts are spinning faster and louder than a roller coaster?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the road.

  “I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say right now.”

  “Do you have questions for me? I’m assuming you do.”

  Only one popped out. Because as much as we’d spoken, he still hadn’t had the soft, tender look in his eyes like he had for the woman he’d earlier called Kaila.

  “Who was that woman to you tonight? The one you were on stage with?”r />
  He turned and met my gaze for a moment before turning back to the road. “Of all the questions you could ask, that’s the most surprising.”

  “Is it?”

  He nodded. “Kaila’s a sub, unattached, and to be honest, much more intense than I. But she performs beautifully for a crowd.”

  “You said that you don’t typically use, um, well, you prefer your hand.” It was getting hot in his car. A quick glance at the heat told me that hadn’t risen, so it was my blood boiling with embarrassment. Lovely. Every man loved a splotchy, blubbering, terrified woman. Lover.

  Shit. What had I gotten myself into?

  “Yes. You’ll find that in BDSM, like any vanilla relationship, you could line up one hundred couples, and you’d have one hundred different examples. It’s not all that unlike any vanilla relationship, Rebecca. We all have our preferences, our ways of showing dominance and submission, and any partner, any relationship still needs to find the right fit and what works for them, together.”

  “You make it sound so reasonable.”

  “A good Dom sets forth expectations that are reasonable, as well as clear. Most importantly, what I want you to know is that unlike Shawn, and what I’m assuming you’ve heard of his talents, I don’t want a woman to bend over a bench or be strapped to a cross for pleasure, nor do I need it. I enjoy the control, and a woman submitting. Whether at her knees or on her feet, a woman trusting me with the most precious parts of her and her desires, that’s the gift you give me.”

  A delicious shiver spiraled through me. I turned and watched the skyline of Grand Rapids fly by. “What you described sounds...manageable.”

  In truth it was beautiful. He treasured a woman who gave herself to him, trusted him. Wasn’t that what I wanted, at the crux of all of it? A man who treasured and cherished me?

  “I’m not a sadist. I’m a Dom and above all, a man. I’m not a monster, Rebecca.”

  But there was the conflict.

  “Yet you don’t get off unless you’re bossing a woman around.”

  “And to follow is always your choice. That’s why there are safe words. You’ve heard of them?”

  “Miranda’s is Buffalo.”

  I felt his gaze on me and twisted to meet his. His eyes twinkled. “Buffalo?”

  “A trip to South Dakota gone wrong apparently and she’s terrified of them.”

  His shoulders shook and his quiet laughter filled the car. “Understood, I suppose. But for the sake of this conversation and tonight, have you heard the terms yellow and red?”

  Miranda had explained them all to me. Along with the story of stampeding buffalo that had made me laugh so hard I’d almost peed my pants. “Yellow to pause and red to stop.”

  “Use them. Nothing that will happen once we reach your house will occur if you have any hesitancy. Tonight is for learning, exploring, assuaging your curiosity you refuse to admit is there.” His hand settled on my thigh just above my knee. Due to the shortness of the dress, I felt every inch of his hand on my tingling skin. “If you have any questions, ask them. Any fear, pause.”

  Again, so reasonable. So backward.

  “What will you do to me?”

  His hand on my thigh tightened, shifted higher and pushed up my dress until his fingertips were nearly brushing across the seam of my upper thigh.

  “Any wicked thing you’ve ever wanted, and some you’ve never considered.”

  Chapter Five

  Bennett

  A week ago, if anyone would have proclaimed that someday I’d have the sexy, reserved Rebecca Morales exposed and ready for any of my sexual whims, I’d have found the most expensive bottle of bourbon made and made a bet, assured I’d win.

  Thank God I hadn’t.

  Everything that had happened between Rebecca and me since I saw her at the rope was so far outside my realm of normal, I was still reeling from it. Yet I wasn’t passing on this opportunity, either. For months, far before she’d ever become my assistant, she’d tantalized me with hip-hugging skirts that showed off her luscious ass and shirts that fell seductively over the curves of her breasts. Soon, I’d have all of her in my hot and waiting palms.

  I couldn’t wait to get started.

  We entered her house, her hands shaking so hard with the key I almost took it from her. I didn’t. Despite her nerves, everything I’d said was true. Nothing would happen without her permission and she had to willingly invite me into her home.

  Like Little Red Riding Hood and the fox.

  My, what big teeth I had.

  I followed her into her house and when I shut the door behind me, I reached out and pulled my coat from her shoulders. She tensed at the first brush of my hands on her like she’d done in the car.

  My goal? By the end of the night she’d be reaching for me, not freezing whenever I came near. “You doing okay? Need a drink or anything?”

  “Shouldn’t I be the one asking that? The little woman, serving the big, powerful man?”

  Her sass made my hand twitch, increased the desire to have her bent over my lap while I spanked her into obedience.

  I crossed my arms and waited until she turned around, expecting an answer.

  “Disrespect from a sub of mine earns immediate discipline, Rebecca. I’ve made it clear I’ll answer any questions you have, that we won’t do anything unless you consent, but you agreed to this night. This sass will only earn you a spanking. Unless that’s what you want?”

  A tremor rolled through her, as visible as the desire dilating her pupils. Yeah, she wanted this. But perhaps she actually wanted the choice stripped from her.

  “I’m sorry, Bennett. You’re right. That was rude, but you’ll have to excuse me if I feel overwhelmed.”

  “Sir or Mr. Ashby.”

  Her brow furrowed. “Pardon?”

  “Sir or Mr. Ashby. When you play with a Dom, you call them an appropriate name, and no, it’s not because you’re a little woman, it helps both parties understand their roles. As far as the drink, I can practically feel your nerves vibrating off you. As a Dom, my job is to take care of you and ensure you’re comfortable. There might be times I request you prepare a drink for me, if it’s my desire that you serve me. What you seem to lack understanding of is that serving goes both ways. I get you in the right headspace and take care of you so you trust me, and hopefully that leads to you willingly submitting.”

  Her hands twisted together and she looked to her feet. Stepping out of her heels, she kicked them toward the closet. “Again, you make this sound so reasonable.”

  “It doesn’t have to be difficult.” A wicked grin stretched my lips. “Unless, of course, you choose to push the boundaries to see what the consequences would be.”

  “Subs do that?”

  “Some. Some find it enjoyable, but in our world we call them brats.” I lifted a hand at her outraged expression. “And before you shout back a feminist rant over the name, it’s our term for someone trying to top from the bottom, to get what they want without being respectful. If you want something, ask. If it pleases me to provide it, it will happen. And the word brat or slut or whore don’t have to have a negative connotation unless you assign it one. In my world, they’re not.”

  Her cheeks puffed out and she exhaled. “I think I’ll take that drink now.”

  I walked past the small living room straight to her kitchen near the back of her house, leaving her in the entryway. It gave her time to settle all that information inside her until it made sense. Submission wasn’t learned in a night, and despite Rebecca’s tendencies to look at her feet, and her seeming desire to learn and understand, I doubted she wanted this. A night of play, maybe, but not long term.

  Which was a serious, fucking huge pity.

  Once I got my hands on her, hopefully I got over my insane desire to have her
bent over my desk. Tonight I could do all the wicked things to her I’d fantasized about and put it behind me.

  Hopefully then, I’d be able to start getting shit done and focusing again because the last two months had been hell. Hence the proposal I’d needed her to redo earlier today.

  Her house looked to be a small, two-bedroom ranch. It was in a quiet, older and established neighborhood in Grand Rapids on the south side. Large oak and maple trees had lined the road, and in the spring, the leaves would provide a canopy over the narrow streets. Inside, her space was well-decorated and updated, the look created by a woman who firmly believed in the rule a place for everything and everything in its place

  I’d hired a decorator for my condo, and once she left, I packed up half the random junk and decor and put it in the trash. Clutter bugged the hell out of me, and I liked that while Rebecca’s home was cozy and warm, decorated in grays and blues, it wasn’t overly filled with faux vintage books and candles and pointless balls that sat in bowls you’d never use and didn’t need and just made dusting a pain in the ass. Not that I dusted, either. My housekeeper, Gloria, did all that for me every Thursday along with my grocery shopping.

  I met Rebecca in her living room and handed her the glass of water.

  She took it with hands that were still trembling. “Thank you.”

  I sat down on a suede gray chair that faced her and leaned back, relaxing my arms on the armrests.

  The only way to get rid of her fear was to begin.

  “Kneel at my feet when you’re ready to get started.”

  As far as commands went, it was an easy one. She still hesitated, eyes popping wide before she looked where I wanted her to—at my feet, not my eyes.

  When she didn’t move and didn’t drink her water, I spread my legs wider. “You can kneel at my feet or in between my legs, Rebecca, but one way or another, we’re going to get started. The location is yours to choose.”

  Between my legs, though, would be glorious. It’d give her a direct line to my hardening dick. If I was an asshole, I’d adjust myself, show her how much just looking at her trim and toned legs were turning me on. With the short dress, I had a great view of them.