“What's wrong?” he asked as casually as possible.
“Oh, nothing,” she said. “I am just ready for round two!” Her affect was fake and the smile forced. What was this?
“You, uh, want me to do that again?” he asked, pointing to his ass.
She laughed, tipping her head back, showing a white expanse of flawless neck. “Oh, no. Something more vanilla.” She pointed to their bed.
“Go. Now.”
This was going to kill him. He wasn't twenty anymore. What was his refractory period, after all? Could he have sex again so soon? Apparently, he could, as his cock rose to the occasion, his body relieved to have an erection with freedom after being trapped in the chastity device for so long.
It was obvious what Jennifer wanted as she climbed on the bed, propped a pillow under her hips, and spread her legs nice and wide, her pussy lips slick with ready wetness.
“Eat me, Worm,” she said in a nasty tone of voice.
“Yes, Mistress!”
Jennifer wavered between pure fury and disappointed need. Forty-five minutes on his phone revealed everything; he was going to a BDSM club! And had a dominatrix named Miss Sally! No wonder Declan liked being dominated – he'd been paying for it for a long time. The phone records and emails stretched back two or more years.
And the only thing she could think was to fuck him again. Real sex, with caring and pleasure. Because that's what SHE wanted.
So she was about to get it.
NOW.
His tongue settled on her red nub, a soft touch like a promise from their past that made her ooze with pleasure where his lips met, like silk on silk.
"Your tongue is one-of-a-kind, Worm,"she said. He slid two fingers in her eager pussy and hooked his hand up enough to make her vaginal walls pulsate.
“Add this,” she ordered, handing him her bathtub dildo. He turned it on a lower vibrate setting and slid it in, one finger going along for the ride to steady it and position it perfectly.
Lust drove her to new heights, all heat converging on her clit as he teased it, building her to a screaming orgasm, slipping the dildo in and out, making her want more. Her hips slammed into his face, legs began to shaking.
She could feel for his head, sinking her hands into him, slipping and guiding him to find the just-right rhythm that would --
"Oh, Declan!" she hissed, pelvis grinding into his mouth and tongue. Laving now, his tongue widening, he alternated between a more diffuse feeling and the targeted, pointed tongue that made her entire body zing. Feeling both made her orgasm crest as even her rib muscles tightened, her pussy walls encasing and imprisoning the buzzing sex toy, her hands now urgently shoving his face into her, his tongue working hard to keep her frenzy going.
"No! Keep going! God, don't stop!" she screamed, fingernails gouging his shoulders, her clit forced against his face as she cried, "I am coming, oh, my GOD!" She had never exploded like this, anger and betrayal and love all converging. Focusing on her orgasm, he followed, butterflying her nub, now licking as the peak ended, her gasps subsiding, like an athlete recovering.
He grinned and slid his hands up her body, following. He tasted like pussy, which made her red and engorged again, her clit and pussy clenching so hard she climaxed yet again simply from the kiss, her pussy pressing into his hip, her juices in her mouth, his mouth, the odor turning her on so much that she found herself orgasming without touch.
He slipped one hand to her pussy, then with one finger he was touching her clit, rocketing her to yet another wave. She swatted his hand away and pulled the dildo out of her, turning it off. "No! It's too much." He licked his finger, then stood, staring deeply at her.
His hand reached down, finding her soaked, and went serious. "I need you again. I never should have stopped making love to you." Those were the exact words she needed to hear, craved, and he kissed her then, a soulful kiss of apology.
Of course, he had no idea she knew about his secret life.
Her own revenge was coming soon, though.
Exerting control, she then climbed on him. Aiming him carefully, she dipped over over his gloriously-thick shaft. He was tight and throbbing, and she groaned with fullness.
"You aren't even half the man that big black dildo is," she hissed in his ear. The feeling was indescribable, an ending and a beginning, emotional and psychological, all at once. As if he were literally filling a hole inside her that was fused into every part of who she was. His fingernails dug into her hips as he grinned.
When she pulled up, the friction was delightful, moving toward an orgasm more powerful than with anyone before. Kneading her breasts, he was tightening her pussy, too. Sliding her ass up, she changed her weight distribution, then teased him by moving him out, tightened her pussy walls and shocked him with the force of her descent.
"Thank you, Mistress! Oh, thank you for fucking your worm!" he cried out through gritted teeth. She was at a loss, her body all nerves and lust. She had lost her mind, had turned into nothing more than an ass he grabbed and nerves and pussy and clit and fucking.
She ripped the sheets off the bed corners, her fists tightening, two fingers and a cock her tools for orgasm.
"Fuck you, Declan!" And she screamed and screamed and rutted and jerked, a hot mess as sex juices went everywhere, squirting, knew he was creaming into her, pumping his seed, knew her pussy was one hot volcano of their juices as he came.
He pounded and pounded, she slammed back, he kneaded her ass and took one hand to tweak her right nipple, until all that was left was a release, all slick and pussy walls and cock.
The peak was over, little quakes inside her bleeding every drop of orgasm from parts of her she didn't know she had.
And then, as if a switch flipped on its own inside her, she climbed off him.
“That was so BORING!” she shouted. He was taken aback, then grinned, thinking this part of some game.
Jennifer's heart broke in two. He didn't love her. He was busy fucking Miss Sally at the Diamond Club. And yet, while he had a secret, so did she.
“Well, Mistress, I can make it not-so-boring for you.” The doorbell rang, making Declan jump.
A sly grin spread across her face as she reached for her robe. “Answer it.”
He looked alarmed and ashamed. “Uh, OK.” Declan stood and walked to his closet.
“What do you think you're doing?” Jennifer hissed. “I said, answer the door!”
“Like this?” he gestured down his body. All he wore was a dog collar now, and his pubic hair was matted with Astroglide and their mixed juices.
“Yes, Worm!” she grunted. Slowly, reluctantly, he wandered down the hall and she heard his footsteps descend the stairs.
Wait for it, Jennifer. She wanted to run downstairs but she would have plenty of time. She'd paid for four hours. On Declan's business MasterCard, no less. Too bad BDSM clubs don't take PayPal.
The door creaked open. Jennifer padded barefoot to the landing and stared down to see nude Declan hiding behind a barely-cracked door.
“Miss Sally!” he screeched, then recovered quickly, whispering. “What the hell are you doing at my house?”
The most gorgeous woman Jennifer had ever seen stood there in a black business suit, a long pencil skirt with a slit up to her hip showing off smooth, perfect legs and open-toed, black Manolo Blahniks. Her hair was pitch-black and straight, with high bangs. She looked like a cross between a rockabilly girl, Elvira, and Angelina Jolie.
“I ask the questions, Declan,” she said in a smoky, whiskey voice that made Jennifer's clit tingle.
“Yes, Mistress,” he whispered.
“Now, where is my client?” Miss Sally asked, taking a step across the threshold.
Declan seemed confused. “Uh, I am your client.”
That was Jennifer's cue. “Hello,” she said, descending the stairs, coming to a halt a foot before the suited woman.
Jennifer extended her hand. “I'm Jennifer MacIntire. So pleased to meet you.” As the two women
shook hands, Declan gaped. Both turned to him and smiled slowly.
Then Miss Sally looked Jennifer square in the eyes and murmured, “We are going to have so much fun with him.”
“Me?” he peeped. No one answered him.
No one needed to.
The End
Ready for More?
Want more of Declan and Jennifer's story? Look for Dominating the CEO, the next in the series! Publishing in June 2012. In the meantime, check out more of Meghan Boehner's BDSM and fem dom titles:
Pegging the Boss – A Sample
Traffic was a bitch on I-95, and I knew I'd be late. Some dark-haired asshole who looked like an FBI-type in a Beemer and Oakley mirror sunglasses tried to cut me off when I was three cars away from the tollbooth as I eased off the turnpike onto the interstate. Came within an inch of my bumper. White hot rage shot through me, along with a flushed, hyper-alert sense. No way. I sat in this fucking line for 20 minutes and now Mr. Entitlement USA thinks he can cut me off?
He waved and shrugged, like he was oh-so-innocently asking for a small favor. I shook my head slowly, glad I was wearing sunglasses, too, because the red-hot death ray would have shot out my eyes and burned him to a gristled little crisp.
He smirked and shot forward, tapping my bumper. Fuck you, buddy. My car is crappier than yours and I am insured. You hit me, you're slumming.
I eased up and turned the wheel slightly to the left. No way I was hitting him. Ever vigilant, I made it so that in this game of chicken, I would win. Move an inch, take an inch. Like sex, I was doing to get what I wanted.
Right now.
He backed off and I moved forward, victorious. BAM! Take that. Someone with less determination than me right behind me let him in. I looked in my rearview mirror and realized he was flipping me off.
So I shot him the bird back. Fuuuuuuuuck you, dude.
And then he proceeded to follow me. Fine. Whatever. We were trapped in gridlock for the cloverleaf onto I-95, so I pulled out my makeup case. I always ran out the door a few minutes late, so I'd learned to prioritize. Powder, blush, mascara, lipstick. Done. I'm sure in a few years I'll need a hell of a lot more makeup, but at 21 the worst I need is a little undereye concealer if I party all night and come into work a little hung over.
Not true today, though. I got what I needed last night. My boyfriend, Darren, finally put out. That man has a tongue that could lick the moon if he really tried. Damn. Too bad he has to drink a six pack before he's willing to go down. My clit appreciated the effort, and it was a nice change from our boring, vanilla sex. I mean, missionary position is nice once in a while – what woman doesn't like to have a broad man's back to grab onto and scratch when she's screaming and coming like a freight train with a full load – but every single time?
If I climbed on top of him and rode his pole he practically yawned. Getting that tongue to flick my pussy took a ton of alcohol. And when I suggested using a strap-on last night, that had, apparently, been the last straw for poor old Darren. His baby blue eyes had bugged out of his head.
“Lindsay, you're nuts!” I'd never seen a person actually spring out of bed, but Darren managed it, naked and loopy from the beer. We hadn't even had intercourse yet; he'd finally gone down on me and I'd been moaning with pleasure just a few seconds ago.
“No – it's just a thought. I figured we could be adventurous.”
“By shoving a plastic dick up my ass?” Now he was scrambling into his jeans. He yelped – catching some pubes in his zipper as he rushed. I bit my lip to stop myself from laughing.
Ah, damn, I wasn't going to get his cock in me now, was I? “Well,” I crooned, climbing across the bed on all fours, letting my breasts dangle and rub against the sheets, sending tendrils of lust down to my increasingly-wet pussy, “everyone has fantasies, you know? I just thought I'd – ”
“No fucking way, Lindsay. I'm done. It's bad enough you want me to – ” he waved vaguely at my crotch – “put my mouth on, on that. But now you want to be the man and fuck me with a dildo you wear around your waist? You need to see a shrink.”
Now I was pissed. “If anyone needs a shrink, Darren, it's you. If you have to liquor up in order to, well, lick her up, then you might be gay. Go find a nice bar with men and explore a little. Have a nice life.” I'd been screaming the words as he walked down my apartment hallway and slammed the door just as I said the word “life.”
And that had been my night. The end of a weird 6 weeks with Darren.
So no undereye concealer today. I'd gotten off and ended a relationship. Today was about being reborn, cleansing myself, and just breathing. It was Friday and I had decided at the last minute, before running out the door, that I would go on a little trip, alone, to my parent's cabin in Vermont. Packed up some good erotic romance novels, my sex toy collection, and some Junior Mints, all neatly crammed into my laptop bag. Sitting in a cabin, watching porn and reading some good, raunchy shape-shifter crap was my idea of a cleanse.
This asshole in the Beemer kept following me as I pulled off the interstate and went down the back roads to the office.
And then pulled into my parking lot at work.
He parked in a spot right by the main door. The spot that said “Reserved for the Vice President of Marketing.”
I was the new marketing assistant.
Oh, shit.
The asshole in the Beemer was my boss. Mark.
All I was trying to do was get to work on time. The damn turnpike is always crowded, but there's always someone at the front of the line who will let me in. A $50,000 contract at work was at stake; if I was late and lost the client, I'd lose my job.
I drove up past the 40 or so cars in line and figured I'd edge in. And then I saw Lindsay, the new marketing assistant, in her little red compact car. Damn. It's like the universe read my mind. Just this morning the alarm clock had woken me out of a hot dream, with Lindsay the leading lady. She was only six years younger than me, and that auburn hair drove me wild. Were the silky curls leading to her womanhood auburn, too? Could my tongue blaze a trail through that blazing hair? My cock pushed against the zipper of my pants and I shifted in my seat.
Surely she'd let me in – she knew how important this client meeting was. I eased my dad's Beemer into place and tried to get ahead of her.
No dice. So I stared at her, hoping she'd recognize me. When she finally looked at me, her cool gaze turned me on even more. Rich hair the color of copper pipes, with painted lips so full they could take on my erect cock – and more. Her pert nose rested perfectly under a pair of sunglasses, skin the color of new milk. And I could see a hint of breast in her cleavage under the suit jacket she wore, unbuttoned and hanging under her seat belt. And beneath the steering wheel I knew those long, lean legs were pushing pedals, while my hand wanted to reach down, slide up her calf, over her thigh, and stroke her off.
My hand actually reached for my own damn thigh and nearly unzipped my pants and stroked off right then and there. Instead, I clamped down on my own steering wheel and smiled at her, then shrugged.
She shook her head “no.” Ah, come on! I shot her a nasty look and beeped my horn, a friendly tap. She turned away and grabbed her steering wheel.
So it was going to be like that, huh?
Winning games of “chicken” was my specialty. I tightened up and pushed forward, inches at a time, trying to get her to let me in. She fought back, though, and I tapped her with the BMW's bumper. My parents would kill me if I cracked it, though. I'd have to let Lindsay win.
This time.
She got through and I flipped her off reflexively, not even thinking about it, but she saw me and returned the bird. A flash of anger and arousal filled me like a balloon at a helium tank. Could she piss me off even more?
Could I want to fuck her even more?
We'd settle this at the office. Maybe it was time for a performance review for Ms. Lindsay. A very detailed, intimate performance review. And as long as we took care of things after hours, it would be
fine....
Read how Lindsay has Mark pegged in Pegging the Boss.
Spanking New Year – A Sample
Mike removed the glass from Katie’s hand and set it on the coffee table beside his. Then he pulled her into his arms and started to kiss her deeply. As always, she responded instantly to his touch and his kiss. A fire started to burn in her pleasure center and all thoughts of the gift left her mind. Her body only wanted what he could give her. She was thoroughly enjoying the taste of his mouth.
At this rate, they weren’t even going to make it to the bedroom, but she didn’t care. Mike pushed the robe from her shoulders and slid it off of her. He kept kissing her, using his tongue to explore the inside of her mouth while running his hands up and down the upper portion of her body.
The Unexpected Dom Page 3