by Liz Durano
“Fucked?” I asked. I licked and sucked her sensitive clit, feeling her body tighten. “Tell me more, Sharon, or I’m going to stop what I’m doing.”
“Yes, fucked. I like to be told what to do, what to wear, and what position you want me in so I’m ready when you walk in the door,” she continued, pausing between breaths as my mouth worked on her clit, slipping two fingers inside her. “I like to feel like I belong to someone.”
“Do you like this?” I hooked my fingers inside her, my other hand keeping her hips down on the bed as she squirmed, moaning.
“Yes, oh yes.”
“Don’t come until I tell you to. Ask for permission,” I said, my thumb pressing on her clit. “Tell me more. You’re not done yet. How rough do you like it?”
“I like it when…” she paused again, catching her breath and whimpering as I kept going with my mouth on her pussy. She tasted of vanilla and oranges. “…when I’m tied down, held down…when you bite me, spank me, punish me. Pull my hair, oh, Jonathan. Please, can I come?”
“No. Tell me more or I’ll stop,” I said, feeling her quiver in front of me.
As Sharon continued telling me what she liked, pausing to catch her breath between words, I withdrew my fingers from her cunt, my mouth trailing a path of kisses up her stomach, her belly button, and the space between her breasts as I slid up along her torso. On the edge of another orgasm, she looked exquisite in her denial.
She didn’t have to say the words out loud but hearing her made my own needs seem normal. It made my desire to fuck a woman hard, spank her ass, and tell her when to come not something I needed to be ashamed of. I was just a normal guy—until I wasn’t.
I raised her arms above her head. Holding her wrists in place, I slipped a hard nipple between my teeth and nibbled. Sharon cried out, her body quivering. I let her wrists go, gliding my hands down her arms and sides, and off her hips. “Keep them there,” I said as I got out of my pants and kneeling between her legs, I slipped on a condom. No other thought came to me then, just the needs I’d long suppressed for the sake of normalcy, pretending to be what I wasn’t behind closed doors.
But no more. This was who I am.
Sharon looked at me through half-lidded eyes, as if lost in a haze of lust and desire. Submission in its most raw and most beautiful form even though I knew I had much to learn.
“Tell me what you want, Sharon.”
“I want you to fuck me. Please.”
“Say my name.”
“Jonathan…”
“Beg for it,” I said as I slid my cock along her slick opening, coating it with her juices. I pressed her swollen clit with my thumb.
“Jonathan, please fuck me. Please.”
I slid inside her in one smooth stroke, stopping halfway so she could adjust to me. She was so wet and so ready for me. I felt her walls squeeze me, pulsing. Rocking back on my heels, I pulled her hips toward me, planting myself deeper inside her as she arched her back. She moaned as I pushed her knees down toward the bed, opening her up to me completely. She looked beautiful, her hair splayed out on the pillow and her arms held above her head just as I ordered her. I was going to tie her hands next time.
“Look at me,” I ordered as I began to move, fucking her hard and rough. Time stood still. The only thing that mattered was me inside her. Blue-grey eyes gazed up at me, her perfect lips in an O as she fought back her orgasm.
She begged to come.
I said no.
She begged again just as I felt my release closing in, but I held back. Not yet. I wanted to watch her shatter first. For me. Because of me.
She whimpered and moaned, her nipples hard pink pebbles against soft skin.
“Come, Sharon. Come for me.” I felt her cunt tighten around my cock, milking me as she came. Her cries filled the room, complementing the drum of raindrops outside the glass windows. I let go of her legs and covered her with my body, my hands capturing. Two more strokes and I was there, like a wave crashing against the shore, building up forever. I bit the skin between her neck and shoulder, that delicate slope I’d noticed the first time I met her and then throughout yesterday’s dinner. She smelled of jasmine and neroli. She gasped as I sucked on her skin, not caring if I marked her, bruised her, claimed her, her ragged breath warm against my ear.
She said my name. She said thank you. She was mine to do as I wanted.
And through it all, I felt no guilt, no shame, no judgment.
No more excuses.
Chapter Six
Sharon
The sudden patter of raindrops against the glass woke me from a dreamless sleep. I was exhausted but sated. Sore but grateful for the pain. Although Jonathan was too gentle for my taste, there was no mistaking that he was a Dominant. It was in his eyes and it was roaring to get out. His ex-wife definitely did a number on him though I wasn’t about to say anything, ever. It wasn’t my business.
As I rolled to my side away from the window, I realized I was alone on the bed. Jonathan was seated at the desk, staring at the laptop screen. I glanced at the clock on the bedside table and saw it flashing 04:30 A.M.
“Jonathan, it’s early. Is everything okay?” I sat up, tucking the sheet under my arms even though I didn’t need to. He’d bared me already.
He blinked, as if just hearing me. He looked gorgeous sitting naked on the leatherback chair with his tousled copper hair and green eyes illuminated by the desk lamp that he’d set on its dimmest setting, just enough so he could see the laptop keys.
“I just had to catch up on some emails. Asia is awake right now,” he said, powering down his laptop and slipping back under the covers next to me. “How about you? How are you feeling?”
“I’m fine.”
Although I hadn’t been with many men before Jonathan, I knew pain when I saw it. I recognized the ghosts they left behind. But I also knew the importance of secrets remaining secrets, and Jonathan Drazen III had them in spades.
“Just fine?” he asked, his tone teasing as he smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling. He traced the slope of my neck with his finger, stopping just above the spot he’d bitten hours earlier. It was sore, but I didn’t mind it. I liked the pain he gave me. I liked the marks he left behind.
“If you really want to know, I’m happy,” I said, bringing my hand to his chest and running my fingers through his chest hair. “You made me very happy. Sated is more like it.”
Jonathan didn’t say anything. He traced his fingers up my neck and then back down again, down my shoulder and my arm. I didn’t expect any return on my answer. I was just being honest. I loved it when he fucked me, loved it more when he held me down and told me when to come. I loved it when he told me to call him Jonathan. One day, he’d order me to call him Sir. If he’d become my Dominant, I wanted only to serve him and make him happy. In return, I wanted to feel protected and safe. I liked the feeling of belonging to someone. But didn’t we all? We just had different ideas on how to go about it.
“I don’t like Sebastian,” Jonathan said, his brow furrowing. “I don’t ever want you to speak to him again.”
“I have no plans on seeing him. I promise.”
I watched as he opened his mouth about to say something but stopped himself. Then he shook his head, as if telling himself to let it go.
“Come here.” Jonathan opened his arms and I slid my body toward him. He studied my face for a few moments before kissing me on the lips tenderly. “Turn around,” he said and I did as he told me. He pulled me close and I could feel his breath on my neck. “I want to see you again, Sharon. I want you to show me how the others before me did things with you, but I don’t want to know who they were. No names, just…just show me what to do and you and I will take it from there.”
“What about clubs? Like, BDSM clubs? Do you want me to take you to those places?”
“No clubs. They’re not my thing,” he said. “One of my sisters was into that scene a long time ago, and it just wasn’t for me then or now. I also can’t
be seen in those places, not with who I am and what I do.”
“I understand.” I more than understood. I felt his need to be private. He’d been through the wringer already, and none of it had been private. Debbie had told me he’d broken down during a shareholder meeting after Jessica left him. A shareholder meeting, of all places. As much as I hated his ex-wife, I was in awe of her. I wished I had a man who’d feel that devastated over losing me.
“Is that what you like?” Jonathan asked. “Going to clubs and being shown off in public?”
“No, they just took me to those places but they’re not my thing either. The only showing off I want to do is for my Sir.”
“I like the sound of that.”
“The ‘Sir’ part?”
“Yes. It sounds good coming from you,” he said and I felt his mouth against my skin, his stubble creating goosebumps in its wake. “But only when we’re in a scene. Only when we’re in private. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t,” I said, turning to look at him, the faint scent of sage and fog mingling with that of sweat and sex. “Jonathan, I don’t have much to offer you but–”
“Shhh,” he said as he ran his tongue over my skin. “You have much to offer me, Sharon. More than you ever know. Just…just no names. That’s all I ask when you’re with me. And be honest. Always be honest with me and we’ll get along just fine.” He cupped my breast, his finger drawing lazy circles on my nipple.
“You can tell me anything you want,” I whispered, pausing when he took my nipple between his thumb and index finger and twisted it. His erection pressed against my back, hot and hard. I forgot what I was about to say, the pain taking over and I’d become the nipple between his thumb and index finger.
“You were saying?” he asked as he let go.
“Whatever you want to talk about or do to me, don’t feel like you need to hold anything back. I am here for you.”
His hand slid down my belly and settled between my thighs where he found me already wet. He slid his finger between my pussy lips and I sighed. “In that case, I’m going to fuck you right now,” he said, his hand leaving me as he reached for something behind him on the bedside table. I heard a wrapper tearing. I turned my head to see him rolling a condom over his glorious cock before he turned back to face me, his dick slipping between my legs, coating himself with my juices.
“May I call you Sir?” I asked as Jonathan wrapped his arm around my waist and shifted back, lifting me with him and depositing me on all fours.
“Yes, you may.” He knelt behind me and pushed my torso down on the bed, leaving me with my ass up in the air. “Hands behind your back, please.”
“Sir…” I turned to look at him, my hands positioned behind me. “Wait.”
“What is it?” He ran his hands across my back, splaying my hair over my shoulders before sliding lower to my buttocks. His fingers slid between my cunt lips, teasing me.
“Vanilla,” I whispered. “It’s my safe word.”
He nodded. “I should have asked you earlier.”
“It’s okay–OH!”
The first time his palm struck my skin, it stung and I drew an intake of breath. He did it again, and then again. Four strokes and I was whimpering, not because of the pain but because I wanted more. I wanted his cock inside me, needing him to take me as roughly as he could. I wanted him to punish me and pretend I was the woman who’d hurt him, who’d shamed him for his needs. I wanted to be her and give him what he’d always wanted.
“Beg for it,” Jonathan said, his voice rough, demanding. “It’s the only way you’re going to get it.”
So, I begged. I pleaded. I implored him to hurt me, to leave his mark on me, to fuck me hard. Four more stinging slaps on my ass and he was inside me, filling me in one smooth stroke. I was so wet, so ready. He gripped my hips and held me in place as my pussy pulsed around him. I was a mess, a quivering mess in his hands as his hips slammed against my sore ass but it was exactly what I wanted. I wanted him in control. I wanted him to become what he was. Jonathan grabbed hold of my wrists for leverage as he began to fuck me roughly, leaving me out of breath with each thrust. It left me reeling, floating, drifting yet knowing that I was completely safe.
Please, Sir. May I come?
Not yet.
May I come, Sir? Please, I can’t take it. Fuckfuckfuck…
No.
Please, Sir…
Sharon…
Please, Sir…
Come.
Chapter Seven
Jonathan
When I told Sharon that I didn’t want to know their names, I meant it. It was bad enough knowing one of them, and I didn’t want any more to climb out of the woodwork and destroy any of the groundwork Sharon and I had set up so far. I liked her. She was just the distraction I needed, someone who’d allow me to be myself in the bedroom and teach me a thing or two about what I really wanted. Her submission intrigued me. It was so natural. But at the same time, I wasn’t about to determine her wardrobe and menu choices. There would be no punishment waiting for her if she didn’t wear her hair a certain way or brush her teeth at exactly seven in the morning and seven at night. I liked to keep my domination of her in the bedroom, behind closed doors.
But I had a problem and his name was Sebastian Lowery. He was determined to make it hell for one of my properties only because he couldn’t stomach the idea of another man taking what he believed was his. Sharon never said anything about filing a restraining order against him. She didn’t tell me she was crashing at a friend’s apartment because she couldn’t go home. But she didn’t need to tell me these things. All it took were a few phone calls, internet searches and emails. Lucky for him, restraining orders–and open code housing violations–were a matter of public record if one knew where to look. Did Sebastian even know that?
Instead, the asshole was determined to rally other tenant advocacy groups to protest a new development one of my companies was undertaking. He claimed it would displace hundreds of residents at a rent-controlled apartment complex a block away. He even had the gall to threaten me about contacting the media, making sure that my name was right there for all to see unless I left Sharon alone. It was the last thing I needed after my breakdown at the shareholder meeting a few weeks ago. Shit like that had a bad habit of spreading and I couldn’t risk it.
I should be glad that the press hadn’t gotten wind of it–not yet. But if they did, all they had to do was keep digging until they’d strike gold and my credibility would be in the toilet. Rachel, Westonwood…my ass would be toast. I could lose millions, no, billions, in deals and there was no way I was going to let that happen. A punk like Sebastian Lowery was not taking Jonathan Drazen III down.
With one more day in San Francisco before I had to fly out to Seoul, I had to make sure everything would be handled as soon as possible without my name ever being mentioned. It meant more emails and more phone calls but I was running out of time. My assistant, Kristen, had been up all night helping me get everything I needed and she’d probably fallen asleep on her computer as soon as I told her I’d take over from here on.
My first order of business, as soon as I dropped Sharon off at her apartment and picked up myself a strong cup of coffee, was to call Margie, my oldest sister. She was probably already at the Beverly Hills law offices of Boden, Drazen and Weinstein, and judging by the sound of people talking legalese around her before she sent them away, I was right.
“Do you ever sleep?” I asked as I set my coffee into its cup holder. I was still parked by the coffee shop where I’d first met Sharon.
“And miss a call from you? Of course, not,” she replied. “So, what’s going on?”
“I need your help.” With Margie, it was best to go straight to the point. I also had a meeting in half an hour.
“When don’t you need my help, Jonny?”
“I’m serious,” I said. “I need you to get someone out of my face. His name’s Sebastian Lowery. L-O-W-E-R-Y. He heads a tenant advocacy group
that takes pride in shaming developers like me.”
“Oh dear. One of those.”
“He wants to block the latest development over…” I paused. Did I really have to go over the specifics? Sebastian’s beef with me had nothing to do with my properties at all. It was over something else. Someone else. “It’s over a woman.”
“Oh, wonderful. I didn’t even realize you’d started dating, Jonny. Who is she?” Margie asked. “Do I know her?”
“I just met her, but that’s not my point, Marg. She’s got a restraining order against him and now, he’s threatening to bring my name to the media over this latest development unless I back off.”
“He doesn’t know anything about you, does he?”
“But given my recent breakdown at the shareholder–”
“Say no more,” Margie said curtly. “Send me the specifics as soon as you can.”
“I’m doing that as we speak.” I pressed Send on the email I’d prepared earlier that morning. “On its way.”
“Good. So, what have you got on him so far?”
“His nonprofit, the same one that supposedly champions tenants’ rights, owns two properties that have over 430 open code violations combined. Kristen verified the reports for me an hour ago, and I just forwarded her emails and attached the documents.”
“And what do you propose I do with this information? And why isn’t this common knowledge?”
“How the hell should I know? It took a lot of digging for Kristen to find it, but she did.” My internet search in Sebastian’s business could only go so far last night, not when I had a lovely distraction lying on my bed. But I was confident that Margie and her people could figure out how to execute its exposure while I was out of the country. “No matter how you decide to do it, make it current. Asbestos, sewage problems, cockroaches, whatever you can dig about the violations, the better. I want him out of the picture. I don’t want anything blocking my latest development.”