The A Little Bit Trilogy Bundle: A Little Bit Submissive; A Little Bit Rough; A Little Bit Controlling - A BDSM Erotica Romance

by Bebe Wilde

  Taking a deep breath, I went through the entire house, not once stopping to marvel at its high-design mid-century splendor, but instead at the condition of the house. It looked like a hair band had rented it out, taken it over and trashed it. I was so upset. The expensive white Turkish cotton towels were crumpled on the bathroom floors, bottles of shower gels and shampoos thrown everywhere. The counters were full of ashtrays filled with cigarette butts. Champagne bottles were lying on their sides and the rest of their contents on the floors and counters.

  Yes, indeed, someone had had a very good time but it wasn’t me. And now I got to clean up after them.

  Maybe Kier was right. Maybe I should just quit this shit and stay home and have babies and bake cookies. It didn’t sound like a bad idea, to be honest. I’d wanted to do that years ago, when we’d first gotten married but I was too focused on my career and the market had been booming. Things were very different now. Maybe I should just turn on my heel, lock the door behind me and say farewell to my real estate career.

  But the reality was the house was a mess. Someone had, obviously, had a wild party. And now I had to clean it up. I thought about calling a cleaning company but I didn’t have that kind of time to wait around for them nor did I have that kind of money. I’d already sunk a lot of money into listing and advertising this house and I refused to spend a dime more. I could have called Hailey to come and help but remembered she had an audition and I didn’t want her to miss it.

  I wanted to scream but I didn’t have time. I had a showing. And I had to get to work. I would just have to do it myself.

  As I surveyed the wreckage, I got a terrible sinking feeling. I was getting overwhelmed by the feeling that I would never get this place clean again it was so messed up. Good, God, why didn’t I just quit? But something in me wouldn’t let me. I didn’t want to go out like that. I wanted to go out on top. It was a point of pride with me and so, with that, I began the clean up. I gathered the towels in armfuls and took them to the laundry room and started the wash. I went back to the bedroom and stripped the beds, took the linens in piles to the laundry room and put them in stacks to be washed after the towels finished. I got the vacuum cleaner out and sucked up chips and peanuts and God knows what else from every bedroom, put the expensive sculptures back into place along with all the vintage knickknacks that would have been relevant to the house when it was built in the sixties. Roman had taken care with the house, even in the accessories, though I doubted he called them that. He probably just called them ashtrays or vases or whatever.

  Soon, the bedrooms were as clean as I could get them and I went into the living room, doing the same thing—vacuuming, straightening up the art on the walls, cleaning off the coffee table, picking up trash, spraying air freshener and opening windows to let fresh air in and the stench out. Before long it looked like it was supposed to and I raced back and forth from the laundry room to the baths and bedrooms until the sheets and comforters were back on the beds and the towels in the linen closet and on towel racks.

  The house was enormous, so it took me nearly three hours before I even got to the kitchen. I dreaded it the most. It would take forever. I swept everything out of my mind and just went in there and filled the sink up with hot water and dishwashing liquid. I put what glasses and silverware I could into the dishwasher, turned it on and then got to work hand washing the rest, starting with the disgusting pots and pans. It seemed as though every dish in the house was dirty, along with every utensil and every piece of silverware. I took deep breaths and by the time the last load of laundry was done and out of the dryer, I was nearly finished with the kitchen.

  Sometimes, real estate was not the most glamorous of jobs. I’d had to do stuff like this before though, perhaps not on this scale. I’d gone into houses before a showing and had to stuff things behind couches and grab hand-vacs to suck up dirt off furniture and stairs. Once, someone’s Great Dane had gotten into their house and covered nearly a thousand square feet of beautiful wood floor with muddy paws. That day, Hailey and I spent two hours on our knees wiping up the mud and shaking our head at the dog, who perched himself outside of the sliding glass doors and watched us sadly, wanting to come in and wreak havoc again.

  I smiled at the memory. I did love my job, that was true. And I loved houses. If I didn’t love them, I wouldn’t take on the listing. And I loved Roman’s house. And I loved Roman.

  I stopped myself. Had I just thought that? I shook my head. No, I didn’t love him. I liked him a whole lot, but love? No. I loved Kier, that was true. Roman had been a fling. A great fling, but a fling nonetheless. The things he’d done to me… Well, I allowed myself that. They were kinky and they were intense and hot but they were over, just like he and I were over.

  The dishwater was getting murky, so I let it out and filled it up again, with clean, fresh hot water. After the sink was filled again, I put what was left—just some champagne flutes that were too fragile for the dishwasher—in to soak and let myself out to the patio area and lit a cigarette. After my first drag, I knew I’d have to quit again soon. I’d only started because of the stress but soon that would go away, I was sure of it. I stared over Roman’s infinity pool and beyond, down to a gorgeous panoramic view of LA. The view alone was worth the listing price. I just hoped my hip, young couple would know enough to appreciate such a thing. When I’d first got to LA, all everyone talked about was the view, about how important the view was. I didn’t see the big deal until I had a house in the Hills and had a showing later in the evening, just after dark. Once I took them outside to see the view, I, myself, was bowled over. All twinkling lights sitting atop a wide, black space was breathtaking. And there we were, high above it all, looking down.

  Maybe I should change the listing appointment for that night. I could hire a caterer to make a delicious meal and have some wine, as well. The couple could settle into the house, have a great meal, and envision themselves cooking for their friends and entertaining. That was actually a really good idea. I made a mental note to do this.

  I finished off my cigarette and put it out, then went back in. I walked around the house, making sure everything was perfect, then went back into the kitchen to finish the dishes. I stopped in front of the sink and sighed heavily. The dishwasher was off and ready to be unloaded. My stomach growled. I rummaged in my purse for the protein bar I always carried with me in case I didn’t get lunch. I ate it quickly and unloaded the dishwater then went back to the sink.

  “Hello, Red,” a voice said out of nowhere.

  I whirled around to see Roman behind me. He sometimes called me Red, referring to my strawberry blonde hair. But I hadn’t heard him do this in a while as we hadn’t seen each other that much lately.

  At first glance, my heart did a flip-flop. He was so handsome, dressed impeccably in his tailored and well-fitting black pants and light blue button-up shirt that made the distinct blue color of his eyes come out. Those eyes scanned me and my dress and I could tell he was a bit displeased. I had reverted back to wearing the dresses I usually wore. Today I was wearing a cream-colored one made of cotton and gauze and, just like my other dresses, looked like it came from the fifties but with a modern touch. I always wore them with black, nude or tan colored Italian leather ballet flats. Today I had on black flats and I had set the dress off with a black leather studded, punk-rock belt. It made the dress a little edgier. My hair was up in a high ponytail and I knew I looked pretty. But he didn’t like these dresses and had told me not to wear them because he liked me in tight black cocktail dresses, dresses that showed my figure.

  “What are you doing?” he asked.

  I turned back around in embarrassment. “Someone had a good time, didn’t they?”

  “Pardon?” he asked, his French accent coming out strong.

  I turned back to him. “We have a couple interested in the house. Good thing I came over to get it ready. The place was a wreck. Didn’t you have a party?”

  “I’ve been out of town,” he said and
looked around. “It must have been Hubert. He’s a slob. And a troublemaker.” He turned back to stare at me. “As I told you.”

  I nodded and turned back to the champagne flutes in the sink, hoping he’d just leave and let me get done. There was just a few of them and I could get clean in a matter of minutes. I put my hands in and started to wash them.

  “So, was the mess bad?” he asked.

  “I’ve been at it for a few hours,” I replied and stared at him. He stared back with indifference, concealing his emotions, as usual. I knew the reason for his indifference and I hated it. I just wanted out of there. I didn’t like confrontation, which was probably the reason Kier had gotten away with cheating on me for so long.

  “Would you like me to call my maid?” he asked.

  “No, that’s okay,” I said, wanting to snap at him or maybe even burst into tears, but refusing to allow him to see how much just being in the same room with him got to me. “I can do it. In fact, I’m almost done. I should have taken pictures though. I’d never seen a place in so much disarray. Oddly enough, though, nothing got broken.”

  He nodded, staring at my hands in the soapy water. “I can finish the dishes,” he said.

  “That’s okay,” I said.

  “No, I can do it.”

  “It’s fine, I like washing dishes,” I said. “Don’t ask me why.”

  “I see that,” he said and came up behind me and dipped his hands into the soapy hot water, scooping it up and then pressing it onto my chest. I gasped as the water soaked the front of my dress. His hands began to rub my breasts, squeezing them hard. A soft moan escaped my lips.

  He kept at it and I didn’t know what to do. So, I just stood there and pretended to wash dishes and he kept dipping his hands in, grabbing handfuls of water and suds and pressing them onto my chest, rubbing my breasts with his big hands, getting me all messy, all soapy, all hot and bothered. His hands slid into my dress, down into my bra and grabbed my breasts. I threw my head back and moaned loudly. God, what I wouldn’t give for him to kiss me right then. But he wasn’t that easy.

  “Tell me to stop,” he breathed into my hair.

  I opened my mouth to do just that but found that I couldn’t. I couldn’t tell him to stop. This thing between us was overpowering my good sense. All I could concentrate on was his hands, his big hands on me, on my breasts, squeezing them, taunting them, playing with them, arousing in me the need for his cock between my legs.

  “Tell me how you’ve missed me,” he murmured, his lips still refusing to kiss me.

  Oh, how I had. I had refused to succumb to it, to even acknowledge it, but I’d missed him terribly. I had shut my feelings for him down and turned away from them but I knew they were there, if only I would confront them. But I couldn’t. I’d made my choice and to my choice I was chained.

  “Tell me, Teagan,” he said softly and then his lips were on my neck, nibbling, sucking slightly, sending shivers of delight up and down my body until they landed between my legs and made me ache with longing there.

  His fingers began squeezing my nipples, pinching them ever so gently, making them so hard they stood up to attention. It was too much.

  “Tell me you want me,” he said and bit at my ear lobe. “Mon bel amour.”

  Mon bel amour? What did that mean? It didn’t matter. It was too much. I was in overload. What we had between us was pure, sexual energy. It was like it took us over whenever we were around one another. That’s one reason I refused to see him or even talk to him. I couldn’t control myself around him. His hold over me was more than a little bit daunting. It was all-encompassing and he had it because our chemistry was on fire. It wasn’t about games. It was about fucking. The games just lead us there, to the fucking. And I had to have more of it.

  “Tell me,” he whispered harshly, as if he really wanted to hear my answer.

  I could no longer refuse. “I want you,” I breathed as his hand went between my legs and into my panties. “I want you so much I can’t stand it. Fuck me, Roman, fuck me!”

  That’s all I had to say.

  He grabbed me up and pushed me up on the kitchen counter, opening my legs wide and then diving between them. My panties were quickly off and his head was there under my dress, between my legs, touching me down there, making me grab onto his head and pull him in closer to get that orgasm out of me. His mouth, his hot lips were on my pussy and sucking at me, making my juices flow, creating such heat I thought I might explode.

  And soon, sooner than expected, I exploded with orgasm; it was too much to bear. I was on fire with lust for him and found myself grinding my pussy against his face in an effort to get more. Once I was spent, he came back to me, to my mouth and pressed his lips against mine, crushing onto me, crashing into me, sucking at my lips and mouth. I went with it, sucking back, taking his tongue into my mouth and kissing him with an unrivaled passion.

  He grabbed at my dress and ripped it off my body, throwing it to the side as if he couldn’t stand the sight of it. My bra was off and then I was naked, my legs wide and spread for his eyes to feast upon. He loved to look at my body, to take it in, to let me know he wanted to fuck me.

  I waited breathlessly to see what he would do next. He leaned in and licked at my nipple; just the feel of it made me moan. He took it in his mouth, grabbing it, sucking it, making me want his cock inside of me. I grabbed at his cock, at his hard, big cock, but he pushed my hands away and pulled me off the counter then bent me over it.

  Oh, fuck, yeah!

  He showed me who the man was then. He took me from behind, roughly. His cock into my pussy, pushing in, taking me over, taking me, making me moan with pleasure and pain at the girth of it.

  “Fuck me!” I hissed as he rode me hard. I was out of breath but I couldn’t have stopped for nothing. I wanted it and even more. His hand slid down my naked back then between the cheeks of my ass and one finger went in as he fucked me. I nearly screamed with pleasure. It was too much and yet not enough. More, please, give me more!

  And so he did. He fucked me hard, making me come like I’d never come before and I came like that because he knew how to make me come like that. I’d never had orgasms with anyone like I’d had with him. I’d had great ones, ones that left me breathless, but with him, my orgasms seemed to rock my very soul.

  He pumped into me as I came, coming himself, shooting his hot juice inside of me, filling me up with all he had. He collapsed on my back when he was done and kissed the nape of my neck just once before pulling away.

  I didn’t move as I heard his zipper pull, then I stood up, feeling just a little weak in the knees. I stared at him and he stared back. I was going to do it. I was going to lay it all out on the table. And so, I did.

  “I love you,” I said and squared my shoulders. “Now tell me what you can do with that.”

  He looked away. Just like he always did.

  “I love you,” I said again. “Are you ever going to say it back?”

  He shook his head, confirming my suspicions. He didn’t say it back, wouldn’t say it back. I burned with embarrassment, resentment. I’d felt these feeling so many times before. “Fuck you.”

  I started to walk out, then turned on him, pointing my finger at him. “Once I get this fucking house sold, I never want to see you again!” I looked around for my dress, found it and shook my head. It was ruined from the water! I’d have to wrap a towel around me just to leave the house!

  He nodded. “That is fine, Teagan.” He stepped over to me and grabbed my arm, pulling me in tight. “But let me ask you this, when will admit that you are wrong?”

  “Wrong about what?” I asked.

  “Wrong about love,” he said.

  “I just told you I loved you,” I said, tears streaming down my cheeks.

  “Then how can you sleep with your ex-husband and love me at the same time?”

  Ohhhhhhh . So that was it. That was the fucking reason all along why he wouldn’t give in. He was still pissed that I’d slept with K
ier. And I hadn’t even been sleeping with him when I had fucked him the first time! Now that I was back in Kier’s bed, Roman wanted me to himself even when we weren’t really together, which we’d never been. Men! ARGH! They were enough to drive a woman crazy! It was pride, that’s all, pride that was keeping him from validating our love. And we had it. He wouldn’t admit it, I hardly would, but we had it. Eventually, it would slip through our fingers and be done with us. Maybe it should. We didn’t deserve it. We were too stupid to give in to it. It would have a better time with another man and another woman who might just give it a chance.

  “You’re good at holding a grudge,” I said and turned on my heel and stomped out of the room.

  He followed me. I looked over my shoulder at him and he was close on my heels. For some reason, I started running, wanting away from him but, being naked, knowing I couldn’t leave the house. I decided to run into his closet and grab a shirt or something. Mostly I ran to get away from him.

  I ran into his bedroom and slammed the door shut. He pushed through it and I stumbled back and fell. He came over to me, looking down on me, towering above me. I turned and crawled away. He grabbed my foot and pulled me to him. And then suddenly I was over his knee and his hand was slapping my ass, giving me a good, hard spanking. He kept at it though I screamed and wriggled and tried to get out of his grasp, then he stopped.

  “How I’ve missed doing that,” he said and bent to kiss the marks his hands left.

  I pushed at him. “No! Fuck you, Roman!”

  He refused to even budge and began to massage my ass then my pussy and before I knew it, I was grinding against his hand, coming and coming hard again.

  He pushed me down onto my back and my legs opened wide, welcoming him in. He struggled out of his pants and then he was naked from the waist down and his cock went in and it was hard again and ready to fuck me. His mouth was on my nipple, sucking at it while his other hand was on my other breast, squeezing it, grabbing it, helping to intensify the fuck. He was taking me, all of me, for himself. He was showing me that I was his even if I thought otherwise.