by S. E. Lund
"Drake," I said, barely able to speak. "My parents are supposed to arrive…"
"Not for at least fifteen minutes. That gives me plenty of time, so relax, Katherine," he said, his voice commanding. He fingered the collar around my neck, touching the diamond pendant that hung at the base of my throat. "I gave the establishment strict instructions that we aren’t to be disturbed until your parents arrive. When they do, they'll call my cell first, and won't send them up until I say."
He tilted my head up and covered my mouth with his, his lips soft in contrast to the hardness of his erection grinding into my belly. I moaned as his tongue found mine, sucking me into his mouth possessively, his kiss growing in intensity while his hands roved over my ass, squeezing a buttock, pulling me even closer.
My hands found his hair, running through it, grabbing it and pulling him down to me and that elicited a growl from him, his kiss becoming even more devouring. Heat from his body seeped into mine, warming me, making my heart pound. Every inch of my skin seemed on fire where he touched it, my throat with his lips, under the hem of my dress with his wandering hand. He inhaled deeply when he felt the top of my stockings, the clip of my garter, then the naked skin of my pussy.
"Fuck, I need you, right now." His voice was low and deep, animalistic, making my breath catch in my throat. He lifted my thigh and ground his hardness into me.
Then, he pushed me down on the couch so that I lay beneath him, his hips between my thighs. He kissed me deeply, pressing himself against me, grinding his hips, and his nicely thick and hard erection, into me. I gasped when he slid down my body and lifted my dress, baring my lower body before delivering a rain of kisses all over me, from my belly to my inner thighs.
"Drake," I said, my body stiffening. I thought that he would only slip his hand up my dress – not eat me with my dress up to my waist.
"Shh," he said. "Comply."
I bit my lip and closed my eyes, hoping no one blundered upstairs by mistake and found us in flagrante delicto. When Drake slipped his fingers into me, I gasped, my thighs trembling. When he covered me with his mouth, his tongue unerringly finding my clit, laving it with the flat of his tongue, I moaned, unable to stop from thrusting my hips against him. The combination of the sensations, the arousal from earlier, and the risk of being caught made me exquisitely sensitive. Soon, I was writhing under his mouth while he thrust his fingers inside me, sucking my clit in a way that was guaranteed to make me come fast.
Then he pulled away and when I opened my eyes, Drake's blue ones regarded me intensely. He leaned over me as I lay on the couch, his arms on either side of my head.
"I'd love to fuck you from behind right now," he said, his voice thick with lust. "Your dress hiked up over your back, your body over the back of the couch, me standing behind you, watching my cock slide inside of you, but we have only a few minutes. Instead, I think I want you to stand in position for a while so I can imagine it."
Then he lifted me up and turned me around, pulling up my dress so that my ass and legs were on display, my black sheer stockings with the seam up the back, my black lace garters and garter belt, my knees spread wide. He sat on the opposite couch and watched me for a few minutes, his chin resting on his hand, and the feel of his gaze on me, on my exposed ass and pussy, made me even more aroused if possible.
I ached to have him come up from behind and shove his cock inside of me, fuck me until I came. I closed my eyes and took in a deep breath, excited about later, when we went back to Drake's apartment.
He'd do it then.
I drifted on a wave of arousal for a few moments while Drake watched me, my body so ready, my breath shallow. Then Drake's cell chimed and I was startled out of my erotic reverie. I jerked back into full consciousness and tried to stand up, but Drake was right there, one hand on my back to stop me.
"Yes, you can bring them up," he said into his cell, his voice totally in control. "But give me a couple of minutes first. Show them the new ice sculpture. Introduce them to the chef."
He ended the call and I tried to stand up straight but he stopped me once more.
"No." He ran his fingers down the small of my back, between my ass cheeks to my pussy, his fingers teasing the entrance to my body, his thumb stroking over my aching clit.
"Drake…"
"The more you resist, the longer I'll take."
I said nothing, waiting while he stroked my clit more firmly, my breath coming in short gasps. Finally, he pulled my dress down, turned me around and stroked his hands over my hair, adjusting my dress to make sure everything was presentable.
He ran a hand over his erection and then buttoned his jacket to cover it. He dipped his fingers in his glass of vodka and then licked them off, smiling at me when he did. Then he dipped a corner of a handkerchief into the vodka and wiped his mouth.
"My two favorite things – your pussy and vodka."
I couldn't help but smile back. "How am I going to get through this dinner?"
"You'll manage. Keep imagining what I'm going to do with and to you when we're alone later."
We heard them before they arrived, the sound of their voices drifting up from the elevator. Drake went to the double doors and opened them, waiting. Once the elevator door opened, he welcomed my father and Elaine, taking them off the hostess's hands.
"Please bring up more caviar," he said, and ushered my parents into the opulent room.
I went to my father and kissed first his and then Elaine's cheek. "I'm so glad you suggested this," I said to my dad. "I never thought I'd say it but I love caviar."
We sat and Drake poured my parents a shot each of vodka and we all toasted each other's health before downing the clear liquid. My father smacked his lips a few times and grinned widely, reaching for one of the last blini to follow his shot.
Soon, we were busy catching up with each other's days – Drake making sure to first ask my father about his campaign. My father was only too happy to recount how things were going and the steps he had to take to ensure he was on the nomination ballot. Elaine asked Drake about his job in Africa and he was only too happy to describe it. I sat and listened as he talked about the hospital and of the Medical College. He seemed really excited to be taking on the position. I took Drake's hand, squeezing it, pleased to see him so happy.
He turned to me, his face softening, a smile on his lips. He leaned over and kissed me briefly before turning back when the cocktail waitress brought more blini and caviar.
Beside me, Drake held up his glass. "Za vas," he said, looking at us all, one after the other. "To us."
"To us," my father replied. He held up his glass, as did Elaine and I. Together, we shot back the vodka and then turned to the blini and caviar once more.
Dinner was an elegant yet relaxed affair. We sat at a beautifully appointed table, set with fine china and crystal, silverware, the table with a crisp white tablecloth, crystal bowls of flowers and gilded chairs. We sampled the menu, enjoying the savory treats and specialties, Drake telling us about each dish and where it came from in Russia.
Even though his father had been absent when Drake was a boy, Liam's influence on him was measurable. Drake had latched onto everything about his father that he could – his music, his musicianship, his love of everything Russian, his ability to speak the language, even in the end, his career as a physician and surgeon. I suppose it was a way to hold onto an absent father – becoming him, emulating him.
It was then a sense of gloom seeped into my consciousness. Liam had been absent from his marriage and family. Drake compartmentalized the way his father did – keeping his sex life and his job and his music separate and it lead to his marriage's failure. Would Drake also be an absent partner or had he finally overcome his reluctance to commit to a complete relationship?
He seemed to have changed since I met him, letting go of his desire to keep things separate on his plate. Indeed, he seemed to welcome it, as if he easily threw away his previous rules when he learned I was the submissive he would
train. He seemed to want a life partner, not only a play partner. But would he stay that way or would old habits creep in once the luster of our new relationship wore off?
I tried to push that thought out of my mind and watched him as he spoke with Elaine and my father, enjoying their company, talking and laughing. He looked so gorgeous in his expensive slate grey suit and crisp white shirt, a black tie, belt and shoes completing his outfit. His longish black hair was clean and shining in the overhead light, his square jaw covered in the right amount of stubble to be hip. His blue blue eyes were framed by thick black lashes and dark arched brows.
My breath hitched in my throat just to look at him, my body warming as I thought about how he'd fuck me later, and even later than that, how we'd lie in each other's arms and fall asleep, sated.
Tonight was a time to relax in each other's company, and as I watched him talking with my father, I thought he truly was enjoying himself. He turned to me, his arm around the back of my chair, that look in his eyes promising so much. He leaned over and kissed my cheek, his other hand slipping along my thigh under the tablecloth to lift up the hem of my dress and stroke my thigh briefly to remind me.
Then he turned back, picked up his glass of wine, and toasted us once again.
Much later, after our coffee and dessert, and after saying our goodbyes to my father and Elaine, we drove to Drake's apartment on 8th Avenue. The streets were quite bare that time of night and huge snowflakes fell lazily from a cloud-covered sky, the lights of the city reflecting on the cloud surface, lighting up the streets.
Once we were back in the apartment, Drake was barely able to contain himself, and after he removed our coats and threw both onto the chair by the door, he pushed me into the living room, guiding me with hands on my hips, biting playfully at my neck.
"I love seeing my collar on you," He stopped in front of the couch and turned me to face him. "Now, my lovely Katherine," he said, pulling my hair out of its clip, smoothing it with his hands. "It's time to do your duty for your Master."
He turned me around to face the couch, pressing on my back so that I leaned over, my arms on the back, my knees spread wide. He pulled up my dress so that my ass was once more bared. Then, I heard his belt buckle jangle, the metallic slither of his fly unzipping, and the rustle of clothes. He leaned over me, one hand sliding around my waist to my pussy, fingers spreading me until he found my clit, which he began to massage. With the other hand, he brushed my long hair out of the way and pulled down the shoulder of my dress.
He began kissing the back of my neck and shoulder, biting the muscle softly, nibbling at my ear as he cupped my breast through the fabric of my dress. Finally, as if impatient, he pulled down the zipper on the back of my dress and drew down the entire side so that my breast spilled out from its confinement. He grabbed my breast and squeezed, my nipple between his fingers and thumb. He tweaked it, and the sensation sent a jolt of pleasure through my body right to my clit. I gasped in response.
Then, he removed his hand and rubbed the head of his cock over my labia from behind, and it felt so good, I wanted to force my body back onto him. I needed to feel him fill me up with his hardness while his fingers brushed my clit.
Finally, he entered me, sliding his entire length inside of me right to the hilt, his hands on each of my hips. I groaned from the pressure, my body clenching around his. He stayed in that position for a moment and I could hear him breathing in deeply behind me.
"You look so good," he murmured, stroking my ass, his fingers tracing my garter belt. "So damn beautiful…"
I glanced up and saw our reflection in the window, me leaning over the couch, my long hair pulled to one side, cascading down my neck, my breast bared. He leaned over me, kissing my shoulder while he began to thrust, the fingers of one hand brushing my clit, while the other hand played with my breast.
It didn't take long for me to come. Soon, I felt the sweet buildup of a powerful orgasm after the long day of frustrated arousal.
"Oh, God," I gasped, as delicious jolts of pleasure went down my legs and into my belly. "I…"
He grasped my hips and thrust hard and fast and that sent me over, my orgasm starting, my body convulsing around his cock, my legs shaking. I couldn't control my breathing, my breath coming in short gasps, oh, oh, oh God…
He stopped, wanting to feel my body convulsing around his cock, the spasms delighting him. He kissed my shoulder for a moment and then began thrusting once more, and as I watched our reflection in the window, he kept his gaze on our bodies as he fucked me, getting so much pleasure watching. Finally, his pace quickened until he slammed into me, coming as well, grunting in pleasure as he ejaculated.
He collapsed against me, breathing fast in my ear. We remained in that position for a moment and then he turned my head and kissed me. "Stay like that," he said as he withdrew slowly. "I want to watch."
I watched in the window as he sat down on the chair across from the couch and examined me. I smiled to myself, hiding my face against my shoulder, knowing he wanted to watch his semen drip out of me like some conquering warlord claiming his spoil of war.
"Tomorrow, after I'm finished with a few things at the hospital, I want you waiting for me here, naked except for your garters and stockings, blindfolded, kneeling beside the bed. We'll do a scene from my letters."
I nodded, happy that I'd get to experience what his submissives did as described in the tantalizing letters Lara had given me back when I had no idea he would be my Dom.
"Does that please you, Katherine?" he said, his voice warm and deep.
"Yes," I said, my voice soft. "It pleases me very much."
"You're going to let me tie you up and have my way with you tomorrow. I'm going to enjoy you exactly as I want to."
"Yes," I said. "You will."
"Good girl," he said and then came to me, pulling me upright, turning me around and embracing me, his mouth finding mine in a passionate kiss. I didn't think I could be any happier.
CHAPTER THREE
Drake's inner sanctum – his apartment in Chelsea.
Since the start of our affair, I'd spent weeks at his apartment on 8th Avenue where Drake kept his father's belongings and where he went to practice guitar. We played his game of dominance and submission there. It was where he first tied my hands to the bed frame and where I experienced more pleasure than I thought was possible.
Now that we were leaving at the end of the month, Drake was wrapping up things at the hospital and so we agreed he'd stay with me at my father's. My father was only too glad to oblige. I suspect my dad had visions of my wedding in his mind's eye, already planning it, but that was something I couldn't imagine.
I didn't let myself imagine it. I wasn't so sure Drake was the marrying type, despite his claim that he never wanted us to be parted again.
I knew he was the collaring type after his gift on New Year's Eve. I fingered it on my neck, playing with the single teardrop diamond pendant. I was starting to wonder if Drake was the commitment type. But I suspected that he was so sour on marriage that it was out of the question. Honestly, at that point, I didn't know how I felt, except I was in love with Drake and wanted to be with him more than anything, whatever that meant.
Still, I was curious about his apartment in Chelsea. He'd never taken me there and I longed to see Drake when he was just himself – neurosurgeon, bass player, philanthropist. So, a few nights after our meal at the Russian Tea Room, as we drove through the streets of Manhattan after a trip to my apartment to pick up an extra charger for my laptop that I'd forgotten to pack. I was feeling a bit adventurous so I took a chance. He was going to drop me off at 8th Avenue and then after a brief run to the hospital to check in on the last of his surgical patients, he would join me there and we'd do our scene.
"Will you take me to your apartment in Chelsea instead?"
He quirked an eyebrow. "Curious, are you?"
"I showed you mine. I think it's only fair to show me yours." I turned to him, smiling, watching
for his response.
He finally turned to me, a grin curving his very delicious mouth. "Trying to figure me out are you, Ms. Bennet? Sometimes a little mystery is a good thing. You might be disappointed when you see it."
"Why?"
"It's not really all that interesting." Despite his smile, I could hear a hint of reluctance in his voice. "Just a nice old apartment in a nice old apartment block. My broker recommended it and I bought it sight unseen. It was decorated professionally so there's not much of my personality in it."
"Still, I'd love to see it – the Sanctum Sanctorum."
He laughed. "It's not the holiest of holies. It's just an apartment."
"If you really don't want to take me, we don't have to go but I will feel slighted."
"No, no," he said, shaking his head. He glanced at me as we stopped at a stoplight, his smile a bit forced. "If you really want to see it, we can drop by there now. In fact, if you want, we can do our scene there. I have quite a few toys…"
"I'm sorry. It's just that I'd like to see how you lived before you met me."
"No, it's fine. As to how I lived before I met you," he said and cracked a grin. "I lived like a monk most of the time. I worked at the hospital. I gave lectures at Columbia. I attended fundraisers. I played racquetball at my club. And, when I had a submissive, I went to her apartment and tied her up and fucked her. Sometimes, I went to a dungeon party or one of the local munches. That was pretty much it. I lived a bachelor's life, Kate. The Chelsea apartment is where I eat and sleep. 8th Avenue is my place. My refuge. When I think of us, I see us there."
I smiled, glad that he thought of us at 8th Avenue. It was so personal for him and we started our relationship there. I felt like he really let me in there, letting down his guard a bit when we were together despite his best efforts to keep me under his control.
The mention of his past Dom activity with other submissives both aroused me and made me jealous. I'd considered going to a munch – a monthly meet-up with other BDSM practitioners over a meal – but had been too shy to go on my own. If I had gone, would I have met Drake there? I imagined it while we drove through the city, wondering what would have happened if I'd met him completely outside of my father's realm, anonymously. Would we have found each other if it hadn't been for Lara and my father's fundraiser? Life was so filled with accidents and chance.