Yellow (The Safeword Series, #2)

by Ava Claire

  I let go of the doorknob, but shock turned the rest of me to stone. Any movement would rouse me from this dream. I was dreaming, right? There was no way he was still interested.

  “Turn around, Sin.”

  I was almost more mortified than before, especially hearing him call me that name, but I sucked it up and pivoted back to him. I frowned in confusion when I saw he was smiling. My eyes dropped when I saw the tremor rippling through his shoulders. Since it wasn’t cold in the room and his lips were pursed like he was trying to hold back something, my jaw fell open.

  “Are you laughing at me?!” I asked incredulously. Caught up in the moment, I flew back to him and smacked one of those trembling shoulders.

  His handsome face flipped from bemusement to shock.

  He dropped his eye to his shoulder, then looked back at me, his face no longer surprised, but hard as stone. “Did you just strike me?”

  Uh oh.

  I couldn’t lie, even though the answer was clearly supposed to be, “No! Never!”.

  I gulped, trying to stutter my way out of it. “Um, uh, er...”

  And then he did the last thing I expected.

  He roped my waist and snatched me to him. My body; soft, clumsy, fit his; hot, muscled. It was like we were two magnets and had finally found each other.

  I tipped my chin upward and that insecure part of me that whispered to step away, pull back, run, was put on mute...just in time for his lips to collide with mine.

  Chapter Three: Desmond

  I screwed up.

  I knew it from the moment I walked through the doors of Hush that she would likely forget one of the golden rules of submission: punctuality. I hated to wait...and I hated that I stood in Dungeon #3 for a good five minutes. I realized I’d wait even longer, however long it took, to claim her.

  I’d lost count of how many submissives had been mine for the evening; nameless, faceless women that I’d used for the sole purpose of getting off. This guilty pang was new for me, caring that I’d used them all as a means to an end completely foreign because I was on the other side with Sin. I knew it from the moment I saw her shocked expression outside the office, heat blooming in her cheeks like some flower that grew wild and reckless.

  I needed more than a night with her. I needed more of her.

  She undid me with little effort with the bite behind her words and the vulnerability in her voice that I would choose her. Standing in front of that mirror, gazing at her beautiful reflection, I wanted to wipe away every swipe of makeup; unravel the ribbon that held her corset together until she was bare. Until there was nothing left except Sophia. Then she’d see what I saw. She’d see the fire that burned the night we met that had nothing to do with how sexy her dress was. The fire was her.

  So that’s why I did it, with my rational, currently annoying voice in my head whispering to abort. Even locked in the haze of lust it was clear any further play would be my continued undoing.

  I ignored it, focusing instead on her growth, her gift of standing there, hands clasped, ready to submit when I was sure she was dying to speak and explore the room with the same wonder and glee that I’d gawked at last night.

  Tonight, I gawked for a totally different reason. Those pale eyes were like windows to her soul and she hurled herself from the ledge, sharing something that should have made me get the hell out of dodge.

  “I like you.”

  And then she babbled on about how ridiculous that was and how I was probably ready to bolt. How could I not struggle to suppress my laughter? It was hilarious, because I knew in that moment that I was just as crazy and ridiculous as she was...because I liked her too.

  Her strike had been a bullet to that part of me that was worried about being irrational and safe.

  So I took a step off the ledge too.

  I kissed her.

  The fact that I didn’t kiss submissives, that this intimacy went beyond two masked strangers sweeping in and out of each other’s lives, was the furthest thing from my mind. I took her in my arms, so close that I felt every pulsing beat of her heart. It matched the racing drum in my own, and it was all the confirmation I needed.

  Insane? Probably. Dangerous? Most definitely.

  And I didn’t care.

  My fingers slipped into her dark strands, the smell of mint and a soft, delicate fragrance flooding my nostrils. I brushed my lips across hers, wanting to savor the way she trembled. The way her lips parted in a sigh of complete abandon.

  I lost it then, my tongue thrusting into her mouth. I tasted her moans, I embraced her surrender. My hands roamed, starting at her cheeks, holding her, then traveling down, fingertips skimming her breasts, gripping her waist, resting at the curve of her ass.

  I lifted her, smiling when she let out a squeal.

  “Where-what-”

  “And that’s the final question I’ll allow, Sin.” I may have gotten carried away, lost in her, but I steered us back towards the needs we both craved. “You are to only speak when prompted. You are to only move, moan, writhe-” I gave her ass a playful squeeze when she pouted. “Pout when I give you permission-”

  “Before you finish that thought...” She linked her legs tighter around my waist, just in case I was having second thoughts and wanted to drop her for interrupting me.

  I shook my head, but gave her a nod to continue. Not that it mattered. I had a feeling that submissive or not, she would make herself heard.

  She wrapped her arms around my neck, distracting me from the interruption with a naughty little grin. “Sorry. I just-” She chewed on her bottom lip, probably debating swallowing whatever was on her mind. The moment passed and the grin returned to her lips. “You call me Sin. What do I call you?”

  I lowered her onto the bed, my first thought shooting to safety and intrigue. ‘Sir’ was my standard, and a completely acceptable way to be addressed, but my lips were already moving, giving her a piece of me beneath the mask.

  “You can call me D.”

  She’d nearly melted into the sheets until I answered her question. When I responded, giving her a letter, she vaulted on her elbows.

  Her cerulean eyes brightened with interest. “D for Dom?”

  D for Desmond, I thought, a flash of panic slicing through me. The kiss was one thing, Christ, what was next? Giving her my home address? Giving her my heart? “D is all you need to know.”

  The less information I gave her, the more interested she became, practically hopping off the bed altogether, filled with more questions than I was ready to answer. I knew just the way to fly under the radar and punish her as she so rightly deserved.

  “Do you remember what I said a few moments ago? About not moving without my permission?”

  A flush raced from her neck to her cheeks. “Oh! Sorry.” She locked her hands in front and sat back on her heels. “Sorry.” Even with the recessed lighting on low, her smile burned bright. “D.”

  It was only the first letter of my name, but it was enough to make my cock throb with delight.

  What would my whole name sound like on her tongue?

  How would her body feel on my tongue?

  That curious spark in her eyes had darkened to something more primal than investigative. She looked positively sinful, the pink wig teasing her chin, her eyes bright and hopeful behind her thick lashes. Her shoulders were a milky, gentle ivory and I knew that her peaks would be like some forbidden fruit. I was one of a handful of men who didn’t have some women in plaid skirts fetish. With Sin kneeling on the bed, the red pleats beckoning for me to slip my fingers beneath and discover the delights ripe for the taking, I suddenly got the appeal. I wanted to bend her over in that skirt, and nothing else, and punish her. Pleasure her. Tease her. Leave her wanting and aching for more.

  She scooped her dark locks over her shoulder, twisting the bundle demurely. “And I almost wore pants tonight-”

  I knew excitement was making her forget the rules, but a different kind of excitement gripped me at the opportunity to
show her what happened when she disobeyed me. “Go get the cat o’ nine and bring it to me.”

  She slapped a hand over her mouth and she was almost cute enough that I wanted follow up with something that wasn’t not so stern. Like a long, lingering kiss that would make her smile instead of gasp like she was in trouble.

  But she is in trouble. You need to dominate and if the way her body responded to you last night is any indication, she needs to submit.

  “Now, Sin,” I said darkly. “Or it will be much, much worse.”

  She jumped off the bed like I’d blown a whistle, shooting toward the corner where an array of devices hung on silver hooks. She lingered at one of the paddles, but her eyes darted to the cat o’ nine whip and she snatched it, holding it up like she’d retrieved the flag for the team and the win was in the bag.

  She lowered her arm slowly when she peered at what was in her clutches, then began the tentative walk towards me. She was so bold last night, grabbing me, doing her own thing, but tonight, it was a complete 180. The true test was if she’d trust me to know how much she could take. To know the moment to temper my actions before she even thought the word ‘yellow’.

  Her eyes were round with worry and a fascination that made goosebumps ripple across me. She held out the whip, handle first, the leather strips stroking her fingers. I knew the look in her eyes; it was the look of fear, laced in wonder. We asked ourselves similar questions: how could pain be so arousing? How could giving pain set me free? It should be terrifying, certifiable even, these questions that I ignored because the allure of dominating was so damn delicious.

  I took the whip, leather strips first, and ran the end of the handle up her arm, gently lifting her chin until she could look nowhere but my eyes.

  “How should I punish you?”

  Her chin trembled, her brow furrowing in confusion. “You’re asking me?” I tightened my jaw and she backtracked. “What do I even say to that? How do I want you to hurt me?” Her question was a murmur and she drew her hands up, stroking her fingertips along the shaft of the handle, knowing that I wanted to replace that handle with my cock.

  She reached out and touched me without prompting or permission. Lust, and the urge to bend her over and make her obey, swallowed me whole.

  “You’re still misbehaving,” I warned her. Any other sub would have fallen to their knees, begging for forgiveness or mercy, avoiding a punishment that would have surely left her aching with more pain than pleasure.

  Not her.

  She slid her hand down, guiding the tip of the handle down her neck. I was enraptured, and some form of appalled because there was no way she’d be that bold. There was no way she was headed where I thought she was headed.

  And then she took it a step further, placing the tip between her breasts.

  The smile on her face was a challenge.

  Punish me, it said. I dare you.

  My regular approach wouldn’t work with her. She’d dial it up and I’d follow suit. She wanted me to punish her. She wanted to push every button until she was screaming in agony and bliss and I was mad with lust and power.

  Sneaky little sub.

  I took hold of the whip and her eyes brightened, her smile stretching from ear to ear.

  “You want me to punish you.” My voice was low, dangerous, and the fact that she wanted to play with fire made every drop of blood in me rush to my groin, engorging my cock. It was just as insolent as she was, ready to surrender. To feel her wrapped around me so tight that we both escaped; lost ourselves in the flesh and moans and passion.

  No.

  Not yet.

  Not until I showed her who was in charge.

  “You want me to spank you?” I asked her, moving closer, grinning to myself when she took a step back, realizing that the beast she wanted to unleash might bite a little harder than she anticipated.

  I combed my fingers through her midnight locks, holding her steady. Roping and tugging the strands just sharp enough that she gasped, her lips rounding because she realized I meant business.

  “Do you want me to punish you?” I snapped.

  She sucked her bottom lip in, like she didn’t know the answer to that question. Like I was the kind of Dom that was a fan of repeating myself.

  “Answer me, Sophia.” I used her name, her real name, because I wanted her to know I saw her...and I knew what she was up to.

  The smile flickered in her gaze as her eyes bore into mine. “Yes. I want to be punished.”

  Using every ounce of my own self control, I released her. I felt her wanting, longing, but I took my time removing my jacket, folding my sleeves back like I was in no rush. My heart told a different story, nearly thumping right out of my chest. My throat was bone dry. Alcohol wouldn’t sate it, and when I turned back to her, I realized punishing her wouldn’t sate it either....but damn if I wasn’t gonna try.

  “I want you to turn around, put both hands on the bed, and show me how wet being naughty makes you.” I lifted the whip from the table, smiling on the inside as she watched me roll my wrists, making the leather strips spin like a kinky pinwheel. “Show me how wet you get when you try your Dom’s patience.”

  She could barely suppress her glee, her hair spinning as wildly as the whip as she whirled toward the bed. She split the distance between her and obeying, lowering her hands onto the mattress and curving her spine.

  In the dim light of the room I was too far away to make out the curves of her, but my fingers would know her intimately.

  Then my mouth.

  Then my raging hard length.

  A punishment for us both really, because anything more than a spanking would just solidify that whatever this was was much more than a Dom and a submissive. ‘D and Sin’. This would be Desmond and Sophia. From the moment our eyes met, it was the only way things could be.

  I drew to her, aching as I drank in the round curve of her ass and my eyes stroked the length of her juicy folds, ripe for my taking.

  She let out a quivering sound as the strips connected with her flesh, anticipating the moment my wrist would snap and the tease would become a bite of pain. She thought she had my number, hell, she did have my number. There was no mask for my cock, piercing and craving the wetness between her thighs. I ached to hear her moans, to bask in her grunts as I spanked her.

  But she needed discipline; she needed to learn that I would give her what she needed, when I decided it was appropriate.

  I need discipline because I'm ready to just take her; not as her Dom, but as me, a man who desperately wants to make his woman come...

  I dropped the whip, smiling when she twisted her head to the right. I didn't need to see her face to know she was probably pouting.

  I ran my fingertips along her hips. “I gave you a chance to tell me how you wanted to be punished, and you chose to be disobedient instead.” I tightened my grip, my fingers pressing into her flesh. “Now, I'll choose how I want to teach you a lesson.”

  And pretend that I'm not struggling to give in myself.

  Her skin was soft as silk beneath my touch and a thought raced through my head. Last night, I didn't have the strength to give her the spanking she so rightly deserved.

  “I think I owe you a proper spanking,” I breathed hotly, caressing the skin I planned to set on fire. “Since you're so chatty this evening, I want you to count out every strike.” I didn't wait for her to answer, bringing my palm down on her ass with a force that made her gasp and me twitch, bulging against the fabric of my slacks.

  My heart froze, currents of sensation rippling through my fingertips.

  “One,” she whispered hoarsely.

  This time, when I hit four, I didn't even wait for her to call it out before I gave her a fifth. Her pale skin wore my mark, rosy red and trembling. I stroked the tender flesh and she did the tiniest movement, pushing her ass back to me, the sight of her pussy making me forget about aftercare, because I wasn't done.

  I gripped her ass, rolling her soft skin in my palms b
efore I spread her cheeks and looked at her. She was beautiful, dripping wet with desire.

  I leaned in, burying my mouth where it belonged, discovering the sweet taste of her flesh. Of her want. She pumped her hips, fucking my tongue, groaning that she wanted more.

  Deeper.

  I told myself that I wasn't giving in, that I was still in control as I strode to the side table, tearing open the condom wrapper with my teeth and slipping the latex over my rock hard length. She was still on the bed, her chest against the mattress, her ass in the air, her head to the side, watching me with fascination.

  “Are you gonna fuck me?” she whispered, like she was still dreaming. Like it was the one thing, she wanted, needed, in the whole world.

  “Yes,” I answered gruffly, because I knew that our needs were aligned. I had to be inside her.

  I guided myself into her, slipping just inside her tightness. I felt her clench the head, trying to pull me inside. I put both hands on her hips, knowing I needed something to hold on to so I didn't completely lose control.

  And then she started grinding her hips. Using my cock. Losing her mind.

  I plunged inside her with abandon. Digging my fingers into her hips, not caring about rules or safewords or anything except getting her to that place. To bliss.

  I wanted her to come.

  The last thing on my mind was getting off because I knew that was the key; letting this wild submissive strip me down, would take me there. Take us to a place that should have terrified me. But I let go too, feeling her climax rush up to meet me like a wave crashing into the shore. There was no warning and she knocked the air out of me. Any final shreds of control disintegrated and I was calling out her name.

  Not Sin.

  Sophia.

  Not even sated, but my conscience and damning rationality peeking through, I pulled from her. The only piece of anything either of us had on were the masks. I got so caught up in her that I didn’t even remember undressing, just tearing off whatever kept us from being skin to skin. Flesh to flesh.

  The masks were a reminder that we were at Hush. And here, all I could be to her, to anyone, was a Dom. Hearing her say that she liked me, and knowing full well I liked her too, I slipped off the bed, ready to put myself back together and get out of there before either one of us did anything else that would get us in trouble.