by Lainey Reese
He read each of those messages twice before answering, savoring her words of devotion and giving them the attention such remarks deserved.
oh, ziporah. this is why I call you sugar. never mind how prickly your exterior, inside you are all sweetness and heat.
Two minutes later, as he was just heading in for a meeting, he got another text from Cami and had to stop and lean against his office door to collect himself for a moment. She sent him a selfie. And wow.
She was in her tavern and she’d pulled her hair into childish pigtails then laid on the red lipstick, shiny and thick. Her black button down blouse had been unbuttoned and she’d tied it between her breasts. He could clearly make out her nipples, so he knew she’d removed her bra as well. The little imp was sticking her tongue out at him. She had captioned the picture with only a single sentence.
I’ll show you brat.
“And I’ll show you how a Dom responds to his brat,” he muttered, as he pocketed his phone and headed out the door. “Call my one o’clock and push them to tomorrow,” was all he said and sailed onto the elevator.
Haven was closed until two, so by his calculations, he had approximately thirty-two minutes to discipline his brat as he exited his cab and took the steps to the door in impatient strides.
He was just reaching for the handle when a full-figured and striking caramel-skinned woman opened it and came bustling out. She raised her eyebrows at him and he couldn’t tell if the assessing look on her face was favorable or not. Evan opened his mouth to introduce himself, but she cut him off.
“I know who you are. Don’t bother. I saw you sniffing around my Cam the other night. She seemed to like it, so it ain’t none of my business that you’re here in the middle of the work day, when decent people are about their business trying to make a living and raise their families and you got to come in here and get all up in her place of work where people eat, mind you, and if I come back after my break and see you went poking in my kitchen and left a mess, then I’m going to be pissed! Just try it and see–” she kept going. Even as she was buttoning up her coat and pulling on her hat, she was still muttering about how scandalous it was that he was there when he shouldn’t be as she marched away in a huff. Evan thought he just might be in love.
Then all thoughts faded but one as he shut and locked the door behind him and walked inside. Cami was singing. Gone were the pigtails and bright red cheeks. She had readjusted her clothing and there was only a thin clear gloss on her full lips as they wrapped around the words of an old Patsy Cline number and made them alive once again.
In the dim lighting she sat atop a stool in the center of the stage and sang of heartache and a broken spirit like one who would know. That was the hidden key to Patsy’s music. No matter how beautiful the voice, if the person singing didn’t have that deep well of sadness to draw from, the songs just fell flat. But from Cami, god, Evan felt the sting of tears prick his throat at the terrible haunting beauty of it.
He stayed in the shadows as she sang but she knew he was there. Her eyes tracked his slow progress as he rounded the gleaming oak and brass bar. Her voice grew huskier and the wrenching sadness she’d poured into the music lifted, replaced note by note with a sultry undertone that told him she knew why he was there.
Cami watched Evan emerge from the shadows like a dream. His head gleamed in the scant light and she could just make out his silhouette at first. Tall, muscled man draped in a designer business suit that fit him to mouth-watering perfection, topped by one of those ankle length overcoats that probably cost a year’s rent. He was mesmerizing.
Evan was making his way slowly across the dining area now, weaving in and out of the tables and shedding layers as he went. The overcoat carelessly tossed on a table. Next the jacket dropped over a chair. His tie he only loosened and the same with the top two buttons of his gleaming white shirt. When he got to the foot of the stage, his hands went to his belt and he drew it off with a hiss of leather as it slid like butter from its loops.
Slowly. So slowly it was like torture, he wrapped the buckle end of that delicious strip of cowhide around one fist and left more than half of it hanging at his side. She missed a note when his free hand went to the button of his slacks and she saw the potent proof of his arousal straining there.
With shaky hands, Cami set her guitar to the side and stared at him as he lowered his zipper, one tiny tooth at a time. “I believe I told you what I would do were you to ever stick your tongue out at me.” The zipper down, his hand reached in, and through the fabric, Cami watched as he gripped and stroked himself. “Brat.”
“Yes.” Cami had to swallow. Twice. “Yes, Sir.” Her eyes were glued to the motion of his hand. She was waiting for him to bring his shaft out, bring it out so she could clearly see him fist that hard flesh. He didn’t though. He just continued to stroke it, while she could only guess what it looked like and wonder if it was getting harder the way she was getting wetter. She swallowed again and licked her lips. “Does my sweet brat want her Dom’s cock?” The question brought her startled eyes up to his. The emerald glowed in the low lighting, compelling her, challenging her.
Fear tried to assert itself, but she fought it back and nodded. “Yes, Sir.” Evan didn’t instruct her to, but she wanted to give him the high protocol of a structured scene. Cami had found safety in the scenes they’d had on the weekend together. A separation from any sexual encounter she’d ever had before and that separation, that distinction, freed her. “Please, Sir,” she begged, then she toed-off her shoes and slid to her knees on the stage before him. “Please.”
His eyes closed and she watched the effect her supplication had on him. Evan’s lips parted and the skin tightened on his face until his high cheekbones stood out in stark relief. He tilted his head to the side a fraction, as he seemed to bask for a moment while he took her submission in. Then Evan reached out with both hands, leaving himself still safely tucked inside his fly-damn him- and wrapped the belt around her neck. He fixed it high up, to just under her chin and she felt him adjusting behind her until he was satisfied with the fit. Back to holding the belt rolled around one clenched fist, he stroked her hair away from her face with his other hand and said, “Take out my cock, brat.”
Her hands trembled as she answered and reached for him. The stage wasn’t that high off the main floor and he was a tall man on top of that, so with her kneeling before him, it put her face at the perfect level for the task at hand. The clenching between her legs was so strong when she finally wrapped her hands around him, that she thought she might’ve just come. It felt like she’d been waiting her whole life to be here. In this spot. On her knees, with her Master’s cock in her hands and her will in his.
Without a word, he pulled on the tether that was the belt, so she lowered her head and took him in. He was hot and slick and hard on her tongue. No playful licks or teasing, the moment was too charged for it; she felt ravenous. Cami dropped her hands to her sides, flattened her tongue, opened her throat and slid down until that blunt head was bumping her tonsils and closing her airways. At the end of herself, and yet still she pushed, pushed as though to swallow him in truth. He growled and she felt his free hand fist in her hair as he cursed and pulled her back up. She made a hungry noise and sucked her way back down as his thigh muscles clenched. When she was so far down she couldn’t get him any farther, she worked her tongue on the underside where that fat vein pulsed against her and she heard him curse again, fervently.
She loved giving oral. Cami had discovered this about herself years ago. At first, she had assumed the reason was because it was one thing that hadn’t been a part of that night. One sexual act that hadn’t been tainted. However, as she had come to understand who she was sexually, a true fully submissive woman, she found that wasn’t the case. Along with a large percentage of subs, Cami’s pleasure was derived from service. Her own experience was enhanced exponentially by the knowledge that she was pleasing the one she was with. For a sub like her, the giving of pleasure
was every bit as vital as the receiving of it.
So Cami lost herself in the slide of that hot shaft on her tongue. The heat and slick hardness of it was her reward, her proof that she was pleasing him and her lips pulled her back down greedily every time the fist in her hair and the belt around her neck pulled her up.
“God, baby girl,” she heard him say, “you are so fucking good at this. God. That’s it, brat, suck it, yeah, like that. Just. Like. That.” Each word was punctuated with a hard thrust of his cock and Cami felt her hips echoing his. Thrusting and grinding, and she wished she could feel him in both places at once. “Hands, sweet brat. Put your hands on me now.” An order she was overjoyed to obey. Her fingers slid up the long strong columns of his thighs until she reached the tops and then cupped the tight sensitive sack between them.
They were drawn tight to the base of him, an indication of how close he was to release and Cami relished and dreaded the end. Relished the fact that she could affect him and bring him to the brink so quickly. Dreaded the fact that soon it would be over, when she never wanted this to end.
Lightly, but not too lightly, she squeezed and pulled on that tender flesh as she increased the suction of her mouth and she felt the effect on him immediately. With a groan so deep and guttural she felt it like a thrust in her pussy, he came.
His fist tightened in her hair and the one holding her leash hauled her in flush against his body and kept her there. Seconds later, he exploded across her tongue and spilled, hot and bright as fire, down her throat.
Aftershocks were still ringing through his legs when she felt him draw her back. She resisted. Cami wanted more; she wanted to bring him again. Even as he chuckled at her tenacity, he gave a sharp yank on the belt as well as her hair. “Listen, sweet brat.” He bent forward and kissed the crown of her head. “Obey.”
She sat back on her heels and batted her eyelashes at him with a pout. “Okay. But I don’t wanna.” Her reward was more of his rich, soft laughter and another kiss. This one on her mouth, where he lingered and cupped her face in two strong and safe palms. As his breath flowed over her cheek, it felt like a caress and Cami felt centered in a way she never had before. She felt a quiet, a stillness of spirit that was unlike anything she’d ever known. With one exception. This same feeling was with her last weekend when the three of them were together. But there was an added element to those times that was missing here. She couldn’t put her finger on it, but knew that it was there all the same. A frown quirked her brow as she thought about it.
“What’s caused this?” His question was as gentle as the thumb he used to brush the wrinkle on her forehead.
“I loved this. I loved it so much.” She wanted to assure him. “But? I don’t know. I miss Z. Since we started this together, it feels like she should be here.” She looked up at him and felt a knot form in her belly that he might be displeased somehow. “Is that wrong? Are you m–” her words were stopped by the press of his lips against hers again.
“Cami, sweet,” he said, straightening up and removing the belt gently. “Feelings are never wrong. They just are. And as it happens, it pleases me that you miss her.”
Surprise had her jolting a little as he rubbed and soothed her neck where the belt had dug in. “It does?”
“Yes, of course. Cami, this is new to you both. Not just the BDSM, but also sharing the same man. Imagine how difficult it would be if the two of you were jealous of each other? This wouldn’t work, no matter how much she would want to help you grow or how badly you needed that help. If either of you were to get possessive, it would have to end.” He leaned down and kissed at a particularly tender spot on her neck. “Poor baby, got bit there didn’t you?” Then he kissed it again before he stood and began adjusting his clothes. “So, yes. Since the two of you have become extremely important to me in an extremely short amount of time, I’m very pleased that you miss her.” One more lingering kiss. “Thank you for this, sweet brat. Now behave or else I’ll be back.”
Cami warmed from the inside out at that and wanted to bounce to her feet and straight into his arms. She restrained herself though. Perhaps it was that Z wasn’t here, or maybe it just wasn’t the time for it, but she stayed on her knees instead and watched with a dreamy smile as he gathered his things and left.
“And then he just left?” Cami nodded and Z had to stop chopping zucchini in case she got so flustered she lopped off a finger. “God, that’s freaking hot. Did he look back and give you a sizzling stare, or was it old western style where he just sauntered off into the sunset?”
“The wild west version.” Cami laughed as she assured her. “And yeah, Z, it was. It was off the charts hot.”
Z finished chopping and barely managed to spare her fingers. “I wish he would saunter in and out of my work and have his way with me.” A laugh bubbled out of her as she pictured it. Evan, with his gleaming bald head and muscled build, bending her over her desk, or better yet, the witness stand while judge and jury watched.
“You want me to put the bread in the oven for you?”
“You touch my bread and I’ll stab you,” Z threatened with a wave of her knife. “Last time, you let the oven slam shut and it fell. Stick to the salad and be thankful I even let you in my kitchen.”
“Sheesh. It only happened that one time.” Cami grouched good-naturedly as she tore up lettuce. “And now I know not to slam the oven door, so it’s not like I would do it again.” Z didn’t even bother replying to that. Cami was a complete failure in the kitchen and everyone who knew her accepted that sorry fact, including Cami. She made up for the lack of cooking skills by never complaining about the clean up. When they ate at home, Z cooked and she cleaned and that suited them both just fine.
“I’m about done here anyway.” Z added the last of the vegetables to the soup that she’d thrown together and gave the pot a quick stir. Simple Italian sausage and veggie soup with some homemade rolls and dinner would be delish and perfect for a cold fall day.
Her phone buzzed where it sat on the counter and Z picked it up without looking to see who called. She just mumbled a quick hello as she tucked it between shoulder and ear and carefully placed the rolls in the preheated oven. Then groaned at herself when it sank in that it buzzed, not rang. Bread in, she straightened and fumbled the phone into her hands, feeling like a sap for being so caught up in visions of Evan that she didn’t even know a text from a call.
The fact that the text just happened to be from him made her bare toes curl and her stomach flutter.
i got you something
She grinned and replied
Is it as good as what you got for C? Cuz that sounded pretty yummy.
With one foot braced on the inside of her other knee in one of her favorite yoga stances, Z balanced in the middle of her kitchen and stared at her phone like a smitten teen.
well, its at your door. go open it and see
With a squeal, she bounded out of the kitchen and hollered to Cami on the way. “Evan sent us a present!”
“He did? What?” Cami yelled from the dining room where she was setting the table.
Z flung open the door with all the zeal of a kid at Christmas, or in her case Chanukah, and there he was. Every bit as striking and debonair as Cary Grant or James Bond in his expensive suit, and holding a bazillion red roses, and Z was surprised she didn’t spontaneously combust right there in her entry way.
Their eyes locked. Her mood went from playful to primal in a nanosecond.
“You really gotta work on your grammar when you text.” She tried to brazen it through. Z knew he could clearly see the effect he had on her, but her contrary nature egged her on anyway. “I mean, come on. You did graduate, right? Or is it that you’re too big and important to be bothered with little things like punctuation and capitalization?” She had more. She was warming up to the rant now, but he stepped in and crowded her against the wall. Those beautiful flowers fell to the floor without a glance from either of them, because next he plastered his mouth to hers. A
nd feasted.
Hungry noises were rumbling up from his chest as his hands molded to her ass and ground her against his already hard cock. She kissed him back like it had been years since she’d seen him instead of days. When he urged one of her legs up and hooked her knee in his elbow, she groaned because he took full advantage of her wide open position, rubbing and thrusting where she was drenched and aching.
Ziporah grappled for the fastenings on his slacks, needing his flesh against hers. “Hands,” Evan ordered in a harsh bark, even as his kiss continued to demolish her. “Hands flat on the wall.” She whimpered and squeezed where she was still cupping him, hoping to make him forget. He bit hard at her tongue and held it trapped for one blinding second and her eyes popped open to stare into the brilliant green fire of his. “Hands. Now.” The sting of the bite was a sizzling layer to what was already an inferno inside her, and the show of dominance made her whole body draw tight with need.
She placed her hands on the wall. As ordered.
Z was wearing her favorite pair of yoga pants, with only a thong underneath, and those ultra thin layers were no barrier at all. Evan lifted her leg a little higher and shifted his hips away from hers. She cried out at the loss, ready to beg but after that he put his hand there. Those thick, blunt fingers knew exactly where to go and he wasted no time with teasing or playfulness.
He pressed deep, then rubbed hard and fast right on the throbbing button of her clit. The friction, the surprise of seeing him after days of dreaming and then hearing the details of what happened at the tavern, all combined to catapult her into readiness. There was no holding back. There was no defense. Z was his in that moment, her body helpless to do anything but follow where he led and give what he demanded. When she came, she came screaming her orgasm into his mouth.