I grin. “And isn’t that a shame. We should have been doing this years ago.” I press a quick kiss to her cheek. “Sit tight. I’ve got to bypass the valve so I can light the fireplace with a match, but we should be warming up in no time.”
I strip my suit coat off, roll up my sleeves, and go about the business of making the fire, determined to banish the cold and ensure nothing brings Jane pain or pleasure tonight except my own two hands.
Chapter Six
Jane
We should have been doing this years ago…
Ten’s words echo through my head as I watch him fiddle around with the gas fireplace, flicking switches and turning knobs. He’s stripped off his suit coat and is down to a sky blue dress shirt the same color as his eyes, those eyes that have always seen right through me, cataloguing all the things I manage to hide from the rest of the world.
Like the fact that I’ve dreamed about being turned over a man’s knee since I was a seemingly straight-laced teenager whose library card saw more action than she did. I didn’t have my first kiss until I was almost eighteen, but by then I’d read every naughty book in the Danville Public library, as well as a few I liberated from the top shelf of my Aunt Rose’s closet. The ones with spanking in them completely fascinated every cell—and hormone—in my teenaged body.
I’d spent hours fantasizing about what it would be like to be the princess awakened by a spanking on her virginal bottom, the sassy highlander’s captive who had to be disciplined into obeying her new lord, or the bad girl who’d disobeyed her Dom and was now in for the punishment of her life. I would lie in bed in the dark with my eyes closed and my fingers between my legs, imagining and experimenting until I learned how to make the storm gathering low in my body break wide open, raining bliss through me in sharp, golden waves.
Those books, those fantasies, helped me unlock my own pleasure, to sort out all the secret things that happen in the dark that my parents and teachers refused to talk about. My fantasy spankings kept me company during many a lonely night through high school and beyond.
Of course, I’d always hoped that one day fantasy would become reality, but the one time I worked up the courage to mention the possibility to my boyfriend Bobby, he’d acted like I was a crazy person.
“But you’re not that kind of girl, baby,” he said, brow furrowing.
“What’s that mean?” I snuggled closer on the couch, squirming my toes beneath his thigh, trying to keep things light. “It doesn’t have to be a big deal. I just thought it could be fun. Like playing pretend.”
“But you’re so sweet, Janey.” His frown deepened. “It would be like spanking a kindergarten teacher, for God’s sake.” He shook his head, the confusion and distaste in his expression making it clear my fantasy wasn’t going to be fulfilled any time soon. “Let’s not talk about it any more, okay, babe? It kind of gives me the creeps.”
Later I’d learned that Bobby had been experimenting with bondage with the single mom two floors down. Every Friday night, right after she dropped her son at his father’s for the weekend, Bobby headed over to her place for playtime. He cheated on me between the hours of four and seven p.m. While I was working late with Ten, putting together the battle plan for the coming week, Bobby would tie Sheila to her bed and work out his kink, shower, and then come up to watch movies with me, the “kindergarten teacher,” on the couch afterward.
Maybe Bobby spanked Sheila, too. I never had the guts to ask. I simply accepted my neighbor’s tearful apology after she realized that Bobby and I were involved, then crept back into my apartment and cried for the entire weekend, wondering if I would ever find a man interested in remaining faithful, let alone in fulfilling my fantasies.
Now, I find that I truly don’t care.
In fact, I’m grateful that Bobby turned me down. Now, instead of a half-hearted effort from a man who didn’t care about me, my first spanking was the stuff erotic dreams are made of.
Ten did things to my body that I had previously assumed were purely in the realm of fiction. Until tonight, pain that leads to mind-bending pleasure and multiple Os, underscored by a steady stream of filthy promises from a man who intends to keep them, seemed like fantasy-only territory. But it’s real. Ten thinks we should have been doing it years ago, and he wants to “talk” before things go any further.
I wrap the quilt tighter around my body, fighting the urge to read too much into this. But I can’t help but wonder if maybe Ten has a little thing for me, too.
Or maybe a not-so-little thing…
There’s nothing little about the man, and you know it.
The inner voice, hussy that she is, is thinking about the massive length I was stroking through Ten’s pants not five minutes ago, but my rational mind is thinking about the man I’ve known for four years. Ten never does anything half way, whether it’s learning to ski, studying the effects of technology on plant and animal populations, or dismantling an entire, nearly complete, algorithm to start over from scratch because he’s suddenly found a way to make his latest cyber security program a little more secure. When Ten’s in, he’s all in.
He’s the same way with women. Sure, he dates casually, but the only woman I saw him with more than once was a serious relationship. Very serious.
There was a time when I thought Ten was going to marry Veronica. That was the year that I dated Barrett and Benjamin, two more B-named disasters, and began to lose faith in ever finding my own happily ever after. During those long, dark months, I did my best not to think about Ten too much, to ignore the fact that my naughtiest fantasies featured a man with Ten’s strong hands and effortlessly commanding voice taking control of my body in ways no man ever had before.
But now…
Now I can admit that Ten has been the man in my dreams, and that there are times when I’ve carried my fantasies into the waking world, wondering what it would be like to be something more to my boss than his faithful, trusted assistant.
What would it be like to be there for him in every way? There for his heart, his soul, his pleasure?
The thought sends a flutter through my chest, and then Ten finishes lighting the fire and turns to me with that new hungry, possessive, mine look in his eyes, and the fluttering becomes a gale-force wind that whips through my insides, leaving devastation in its path.
I want to be his, I want it so badly I know there’s no way I’ll be able to hide my longing from this man who sees me so clearly. Especially now, after being so exposed to him, stripped bare with my every thought, feeling, and desire on display.
He crosses toward me, but instead of settling on the couch, he pulls the coffee table closer and sits down on top of it, facing me with the flames of the fire flickering behind him. But the light from the candles on the desk slants across the planes of his face. I can see the warmth in his eyes and the curve of his smile as he takes my hand in both of his.
“How are you feeling?” He rubs his thumb across the back of my hand, a caress that is both gentle and erotic at the same time. But then I doubt I’ll ever be able to feel Ten’s hands on me again without it being at least a little bit sexy.
“Good,” I say.
“Can I have a little more than ‘good’?” he asks, a smile softening the words. “How about your beautiful ass? Is there any pain? I have some Vitamin E lotion that helps, I’m told. And anything from the pain reliever drawer of my desk is yours for the asking. I’m here to get you whatever you need.”
I shake my head. “No, thank you. It feels hot and a little sore, but there’s no pain. I actually kind of…like it.” My cheeks flush as I force myself to finish the sentence, feeling shy now that the inhibition-melting glow of the best orgasm of my life is beginning to fade.
He squeezes my hand. “Good. That means I didn’t take things too far. But sometimes I do. All Dominants sometimes do. If you realize things are going too far during a scene, use your safe word. If you’re caught up in the moment and don’t realize until later that something was too much
, you should communicate that to your top as soon as you can.”
I nod slowly, confused by the direction this chat is taking. “All right.”
“And how about emotionally?” he asks. “How is all the feeling stuff feeling?”
My breath puffs out in a nervous laugh. “Um, I’m a little anxious, I guess?”
“Anxiety isn’t unusual after a scene,” he says with another encouraging, though not especially intimate, smile. “Especially your first. That’s why I wanted to take a break and make sure you were okay before things went any further. In the community we call it aftercare, a time to come back to reality after play, check in with each other, make sure all is well.”
“All is well,” I lie, my spirits sinking as I realize what this talk is about. I thought we were taking a break to talk about us, about feelings and the future, not for a BDSM teaching moment.
I can’t help feeling crushed, even though this is exactly what I asked for, and what he promised. He didn’t mention a relationship or even a long-term teacher/student arrangement. Just one night for me to learn the things he’s offered to teach. I knew that going in, and I was fine with it half an hour ago. But that was before he made my fantasies come true, before he touched me, kissed me, and made me feel like I was finally right where I belonged.
Nothing I’ve done in bed with a man has ever felt as right as what just happened between me and Ten on this couch. And that’s not simply because he’s a Dominant who knows how to fulfill my submissive fantasies. It’s because he’s Ten, the man who makes sure cupcakes are waiting on my desk for my birthday every year, who gets as geekily jazzed about efficient scheduling as I do, and whose laugh always makes me feel like I’m in on the joke.
But apparently he doesn’t feel the same way about me.
Jane Singleton is just another submissive, another girl he’s agreed to play with who may be in need of butt cream and painkillers. Ten has post-spanking lotion readily available in his office, for goodness sakes, making me wonder how many other women he’s used it on—maybe right here in this very room.
“Are you sure?” Ten asks, breaking into my thoughts. “Because it looks like something unpleasant is going on up there. We can talk about it, you know. This is a safe place for you to ask any questions you want to ask, and feel anything you need to feel. I know you’re sharp, Jane, but every new experience has a learning curve, and this is no different.”
I shake my head. “It’s nothing. Nothing worth talking about, anyway.”
“Why don’t you let me be the judge of that?”
“It’s honestly not a big deal.” I pull my hand from his, feigning a desperate need to tuck my hair behind my ears. “I was just wondering how many times you’ve done this.”
“Done what?” His head cants to one side as he studies me with a carefully neutral expression I recognize from watching him field pitches from employees on opposite sides of an issue. It’s his “give nothing away” face, which only adds to the anxious, foolish feeling swelling inside of me.
I shrug uncomfortably. “This. Teaching women about the lifestyle, showing them the ropes.”
“More than once,” he says vaguely.
“Is that why you have spanking cream in your office?” I hate the hint of jealousy that creeps into my voice. I have no right to feel jealous, to feel anything but gratitude for the kindness and generosity Ten has shown me. I sound ridiculous. I know that, even before Ten says in a patient voice—
“I don’t discuss what happens between me and the women who submit to me with anyone. Not even my closest friends. And I will never tell anyone anything about what we do together in private. Trust and confidentiality are important to me. I know they’re important to you, too, or I wouldn’t have made you the offer I made tonight.”
“Of course.” I nod swiftly, but stay focused on the carpet, too ashamed of myself to look Ten in the eye. “I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry for, beautiful.” He squeezes my knee through the thick quilt wrapped around me. “Now, I hope you won’t take this the wrong way, but I’m going to have to call bullshit.”
I glance up, blinking fast. “What?”
He smiles. “I’m calling bullshit on your emotional state being fine and dandy. I think you’re feeling a little low, maybe a little confused.” He lifts a brow, and I shrug again, not wanting him to know just how sad I’m feeling. “And if so, that’s completely normal,” he continues. “Even people who have been doing this for a long time sometimes have a dip in mood or energy after a scene. There’s a huge shift in adrenaline levels. It can be hard coming down from that kind of high.”
“Like a sugar crash,” I say wryly, though I know that’s not what’s happening to me. It’s not a sudden shift of adrenaline levels that’s the problem, it’s a sudden shift in wishes, and wanting an incredible man I’ll never have a shot with.
“Very similar.” He tucks the blanket more firmly around my legs. “Except instead of a glass of orange juice you likely just need time to process.”
“Right,” I say, though I’m not sure how much time it will take to process the fact that Ten doesn’t want me the way I want him. Hopefully, if I’m lucky, I’ll be able to stop hanging my head in shame by next Christmas Eve.
“Why don’t I give you a few minutes alone?” he says. “I’ll go find us something to eat and drink from the break room, and when I get back we can have a snack and talk some more. Or get under the covers and watch cat videos on your phone, if you still need time. I know you have at least a dozen on there, don’t you?”
“Guilty.” I force a smile, ignoring the lump in my throat. “And that sounds good.”
“Then I’ll be back in a few, sweet Jane.” He leans in to kiss my forehead, sending a fresh wave of misery sweeping through me. “Don’t think too hard while I’m gone. You were wonderful and we had fun together. It doesn’t have to be any more complicated than that.”
Oh, but it’s already more complicated than that. Because I’m already halfway to being in love with my sweet, wicked, Dominant, nurturing, incredible, spanking-delivering sex god of a boss, and he cares for me like a stray puppy he’ll make sure is bathed, fed, and kept warm for the night before he takes it to the pound.
Don’t you think you’re being a little melodramatic, Jane?
“Maybe I am, but that doesn’t make it hurt any less,” I mumble as I throw off the quilt and reach down to where my panties are puddled on the floor. I dress as quickly and quietly as I can and hurry to the door, opening it just far enough to peek out.
Luckily, the hall is empty in both directions. Ten is still in the break room, which means the path past the reception desk and out the front door is clear. The power is out and the subways are shut down until tomorrow morning so I’ll have to hoof it down five flights of stairs in the dark and make it all the way from Midtown to Harlem on foot, but I can do it.
Even walking miles in the driving snow in high heels is preferable to staying here and continuing to make a fool of myself. Because if I stay and keep looking into Ten’s “I’m here for you” blue eyes, I’m going to confess that I’m falling in love with him, that maybe I’ve been in love with him for years and simply didn’t realize it because I’m just that dumb.
Dumb, repressed, naïve, ridiculous Jane, who thought she could play with the big boys and girls. I should have stuck to books. Hiding under the covers with a book is something I certainly know how to do.
Tears rising in my eyes, I slip out the door and across the carpet. I grab my coat and purse from behind the reception desk where I tucked them late this afternoon, when I still thought I had a chance of making it home before the subways closed. Before Ten asked me to stay late and I did, ruining everything.
Biting the inside of my cheek, refusing to cry until I’m out of the building, I head for the door. Moments later, I’m in the pitch black stairwell, clinging to the railing in the dark, fumbling my way quietly down the stairs because I’m too afraid to use m
y phone for illumination. If Ten comes looking for me, I don’t want to give myself away.
Like he said, playtime is over. I don’t want to be caught or punished. I just want to crawl back into my safe place, lick my wounds, and try to figure out what I’m going to do with myself now that I’ve set a bomb off in the middle of my life.
Chapter Seven
Ten
I linger in the break room long after I’ve filled a tray with dried fruit, nuts, a bowl of cherries I found hidden in the bottom drawer of the staff fridge, and a wide selection of beverages, from orange juice and sparkling water, to a bottle of chilled champagne. I always keep a bottle or two of champagne on hand in case of a happy emergency—like the time Intrepid was listed by Forbes as one of the top ten tech companies to watch, or the day Rhonda and Neil from accounting announced their surprise engagement.
I wouldn’t usually introduce alcohol or any other controlled substance into the mix this early in a relationship with a submissive—I believe in consent, not coercion, and I want the woman I’m with to be in control of her faculties when she tells me she wants to be fucked so hard she’ll feel bruised when she wakes up tomorrow—but this is Jane.
I know Jane. I know how she gets all twisted up in her head, fretting over something until she’s tied herself in knots. It’s one of the things I love about her—how much she cares about other people, how committed she is to doing the right thing, and how desperately she wants to please everyone—but I know it takes its toll on her. A glass or two of champagne might take the edge off, help her relax enough to open up and tell me what about the scene has her so upset.
She wouldn’t be upset if you hadn’t called a time out.
She would be under you, coming on your cock while you fucked her so thoroughly neither of you would have had the energy to do anything but pass out with a smile on your face.
A Down and Dirty Christmas: Spend Christmas on the Naughty List Page 11