Her Balancing Act: Quinlan O'Connor Book 3

by Alyssa Bailey

  He felt Cheyenne fish her hands up his chest. She obviously realized they were unbound as she got her second wind. He could see her lean in to kiss his neck. She was naughty, trying to direct their lovemaking. He mentally smiled. All right, baby girl, let’s play. When Cheyenne fought him to retain control, it was the push he needed to ramp up the play. It forced him to look for a crack in her armor of independence and take over.

  She wanted the power because she had little things she wanted to hide, such as how much actual work her business was these days. Being tied up over some issues concerning her work, and most probably things such as she was not getting enough exercise or eating right. To keep those things under wraps, she had to retain control. He would never let her. He could feel her demand for control. She was pushing him so he would take the control back, hard, again. He choreographed their scenes to force her subjugation. What she didn’t seem to understand was that if she gave over to him, he would often be gentler, less demanding because she surrendered. If she fought him, she would lose it all because he took it. He grabbed her wrists and she immediately pouted loudly, forcing him to react.

  “No, piscín, that is my job. I have given you too much freedom I see.” He rolled her on her hip and slapped her thigh and bottom hard and intensely, chastising for the resistance and complaint. She whined, and he stopped. “Behave.”

  He reached down and pulled up the first length of rope binding her hands above her head and working his way down her arms to her elbow. Slow and methodical, he heard her sigh and watched her body relax.

  Next, he moved down to her legs and ran his hands over her body, up and down her thighs, relaxing their stiffness and slowly wound the silk around her calves and then her feet, kissing her feet before trussing them and securing them to the foot of the iron bed frame. As he ran his hands up her inner thighs, he stopped at the apex and spoke to her.

  “Are you working too much, baby?”

  She lifted up pressing her heels and shoulders on the bed, presenting her breasts and sex to him. “Mmm, I’m okay. It’s a puzzle, and I love a puzzle. Please touch me. I need you to touch me.”

  She arched again. He caressed her offered breasts as she pushed and grappled with the control he held because she needed the relief that only the battle would bring her. He relentlessly pushed her to reach her sexual potential, accepting nothing less than her total submission. He tested her resolve by running his tongue over her muff. Only tasting the lips of her outer labia and dipped in quickly. He continued to tease her treasure trove of sexual delights until he found the chink, his way into her dammed up emotions. Now the floodgates would open. Thank heavens, for he was not sure he could tease her much longer. His own resolve beginning to show wear.

  Sometimes it was her changed tone from tight grunting to whines and mews. It was in the way she tried to refuse him access and yet submitted to his spanking eagerly. It was as though sometimes she needed him to wrench that last bit of reserve that she held so she could then freely give into him. As though, if she taunted him with her gift of submission, begging him to wrench her surrender from her tightly clenched fingers, she was reassured of his desire.

  He knew that the forcefulness of his need to control was the evidence of his desire for her. That he needed her enough to make that dominance happen, almost force it to happen. Her capitulation was complete. Sometimes he couldn’t contain his exuberance in the final capture. He sizzled and burned with the need she ignited in him to dominate her. Tonight she needed him to make her release to him. Her secrets that held fast the door of her submission tonight must be rammed open. He unbound her ankles, pulling her legs up in the diaper position and reaching for an item on the side table, his leather slapped against her ass, spanking her, hard.

  With that first sting, she jolted, and tried to reach back in protection, but the silky restraints frustrated her efforts. She twisted in his hold, and he slapped her thighs in a reign of terror.

  “Please, please, I won’t fight if you stop.”

  He laughed. “I think you will stop because I’m telling you to stop. I’m not going to bargain, and you know it.”

  He loved her fight, and he loved the spanking of her smooth thighs, her mews as he disciplined her for her resistance. And she loved his leather.

  He was so hard for want of her that he had to be careful not to touch her with his cock. He would lose his control. He needed to be inside of her. There wasn’t much time left. He loved her so much it hurt in his desire and his heart was so full, it felt as though it would burst.

  “Give it to me, piscín, give it all to me.”

  ***

  She needed his mark as much as he showed he needed to mark her with his hand on her upturned bottom, his leather on her thighs, ass, and his kisses all over. Her heart crashed against her chest, her sex was gushing, and her tummy was tingling. She’d resisted his touch, withheld her submission for as long as she dared, hoping to entice him to push harder, become more forceful. When he teased her lips and suckled her breasts, she almost gave in, but he became gentle, and she wanted dominance.

  She needed him to desire her above all others and to show that he could not contain his love, the fury of that passion in his inability to accept anything but total submission. It was a fine line between her communicating her need and topping. It was too fine for her sometime. She needed him to tame her with his strap, claim her with his cock.

  The timing was his, always his, but they shared the need, the ache. This dance of want, need, desire, taking and giving of love, pain, the game they played that fed her desires and shot her libido to otherwise unreachable heights.

  Cheyenne remembered when he told her that her submission stole his breath away. The leather slapped her skin and warmed into that fireball in her belly. She felt her breasts tingle and the sting increase. She tenaciously waited every play night for that magical moment when he took her roughly, then reverently when she purposely resisted and then freely gave. Even now, after her submission was complete, her chest ached with longing, bringing with it the burning pain of passion. Finally, the tears started. He spanked harder, and the tears fell faster.

  He only ever wanted her to be honest and real with him as he was with her. She knew she should tell her tale, her suspicions about the new account, and end the artifice. She knew she was taunting possible harm by dabbling in another’s duplicity, someone she had not even discovered, who was possibly skimming money from Martin. Quinn would be angry she didn’t steer clear and tell him but she was entangled in the web of this mystery and intrigue.

  She could not let go of her silent investigation now. She would ultimately take what the consequences were to be free of the guilt when Quinn learned of her deceit but not tonight. She didn’t want to tell tonight. She feared her husband would shut it down. He knew something. He was pushing harder than usual. She could feel her control slipping away. His spanking was proof that he was pushing hard, but she could give him enough.

  Her brothers in law had not mentioned a word because it was her place to share the truth. Their love was something so sacred that she knew her risk was high. They were still learning the other’s quirks and kinks even after being together for close to three years now. A journey that would hopefully last a lifetime, but nothing had a chance if she kept things from him because he was not just her lover but also her soul mate. She was losing the fight to retain her final vestiges of control. He was winning, and she wanted him to win, but not this, not now. Soon, soon she would let go, just let go and feel.

  He spanked her hard, and she squealed with pain and passion, the heat immediately fueling her desire, taking over her being. Control slipping away with the tears sliding down her cheeks.

  ***

  His piscín often cried when they scened, and he had become good at learning what those little subtle changes meant. If she cried, keening her release, there was only ecstasy behind the flow. He could safely ignore the tears because she was about to ignite and combust. He would be cover
ed in the glittering confetti of her orgasm. He owned her pleasure, her orgasm. If he truly owned anything, it was this, wrapped in her love.

  However, if she cried in a hard and rough way, she was angry. The gnashing of teeth was almost tangible, physical. She wasn’t ready for release. Patience was still needed. She let go when she believed that the outcome of her release was enough to wash the destructive emotion away. He needed to be gentle and then edgy, like the tide. Intense and then tender to break down the fury.

  Then came the guilt cry. Like the one, he heard now. It was soulful and full of woe, almost anguished. That was the one that whined, begged him to push harder, be ruthless with his efforts. He needed to shamelessly shatter her defenses, for she needed to break and spill her culpability out over them both. This was the time that bringing her to the precipice and keeping her just on this side of completion was the key. She won’t relinquish her liability freely until she was forced to the brink and without mercy, pushed over.

  “Please, please, I can’t do this taking me to the edge. Please come inside. Take me. God, I hate edging.”

  He edge played now, tweaking her nipples, spanking, rubbing her reddening bottom in response to her ever more writhing body.

  She cried, begged. “Oh, please, come inside. I’m empty, so achy and desperate, God I need you.”

  He brought her legs from his shoulders. His lips kissed her ear.

  “How much do you need my cock?” His breath, hot and labored as he rasped, “Tell me what is wrong. Let it go, piscín. We both need liberation.”

  He positioned her body on her knees spreading them wide for his play. He ran his hands over her damp skin as he climbed behind her, pushing her upper body to the bed, exposing her glistening sex, swollen and red from his ministrations and her desire. He slapped her unprotected pussy while avoiding her clit. She grunted but pushed back for his hand again.

  “You were right. I’m sorry. That new client is more than I bargained for and I’m stuck.” She panted. “Please come inside. Hard, I need you hard.”

  She was there. She had said too much to not tell all but for now, he would give her what they both needed—relief. In fact, he smiled; this beginning breakthrough encouraged him to forge on another day. He would continue to break down barriers when they played until she, one day, erected no more barriers. Until secrets were a thing of the past, until she no longer had walls of anger, guilt, or fear of their kinky pleasures just abandoned play. It would come.

  He held onto her hips slamming into her waiting vagina, wanting her more than life itself at this moment. He pounded his cock in hard as his hand came crashing down on her ass sending her into devastating destruction as she flew apart beneath him. Quinn followed her into obliteration.

  He leaned in as the final vestiges of their orgasms and strengths left them and said, “I adore you.”

  With barely heard words she exhaled, “I love you too.”

  He drew her into his chest as she emptied out her guilt, her subterfuge. She told him of her worries made so much worse for keeping it to herself. He freed her hands, rubbing her muscles, her joints, and her tender flesh. He kissed her perspiring skin as he rolled them on the bed to rest. He spooned her, placing her in his most loved sleeping position, her back to his chest, belly, and cock.

  “Are you angry?” she whispered.

  “Angry? No, a little hurt, but disappointed is most of it. You know you have to be punished for keeping this to yourself. You should have told me why you were cranky. Why you were jumpy. And we have to discuss later what to do about all of it.” He nibbled her ear, and she moaned.

  “But I don’t think you should punish me for doing my job.”

  “I agree.” He nudged her with his nose, nuzzling into her neck. “I’ll punish you for lying to me when I asked what was wrong. Keeping the information to yourself when you knew there might be a problem, and you stopped me from keeping you safe. But I know now, so things will get better.” He pulled her into his body tightly, kissing her shoulder.

  Yes, she’d be punished for the lies, he thought sleepily. Her dishonesty had the potential to hurt their foundation. She had yet to figure out, and he prayed it would not be a long time in discovery, that the personal hell she created for herself by hiding the important, and in this case possibly illegal acts of others, she was afraid to tell him was always going to be worse than the telling.

  Her naughty choices were never going to be so bad that his love would be withdrawn, his protection stayed because she completed him. His very life was connected to her acceptance of his gifts of love. Safety and protection were only two of his gifts to her.

  Chapter Four

  The next morning, Cheyenne came into the bedroom from the bathroom and found Quinn sitting on the edge of the bed, and she knew what was coming.

  “No, Quinn, I have things to do today. Can’t this wait?”

  “Nope, I’m busy today too. It’s time you pay for not telling me you were having trouble, for not being honest with me about what was possibly going on at the Spencer Ranch.”

  He sat up straight, patting his thigh. She stood for a moment trying to suppress the shiver of anticipation and still her quivering belly. He was serious, and she was going to feel this. Last night had been intense. Maybe one of the most passionate lovemaking scenes they had ever had and she was still reeling from the effects.

  “Quinn, I don’t know if I can handle it yet. I’m still feeling last night.”

  He nodded. “I know it was pretty intense, but I think if you anticipate it all day, it will be worse. We needed to deal with it and let it go.”

  Quinn stopped talking and put his hand out to her, his eyes gentle and his demeanor full of love. He just waited until Cheyenne meekly crawled over his lap. His hand pushed up her short nightshirt and rubbed her naked bottom before he swatted her tender skin hard.

  Her hand automatically flew back to protect her nates. “Oh my gosh. Not so hard.”

  He grabbed her hand, and that restraint eased her anxiety. “Cailín dána, you earned this, and I’m not going easy on you. It’s about time you learned that whether you want to tell me or not when you are uneasy about your own safety or the safety of a situation, you need to tell me.”

  Quinn’s hand fell hard and fast. She grunted at every hand fall. One, two, three, switch cheeks, one two three, switch. After that, she lost track of the slaps. She couldn’t count the hand falls nor catch her breath.

  She didn’t think about anything but the intensity of her husband’s discipline and getting to the end of the penalty for withholding vital information from her protector. To finish the last of her spanking, he grabbed the belt from behind him and landed three noticeable stripes on her hot bottom right on the sit spots. She reared up, with a yell. Her rear was on fire. It was pure discipline quickly administered. She yelled her discomfort.

  “I don’t know if I can handle anymore, honey. Please, I’m not topping, I’m honest.”

  He stopped and rubbed her hot rear cheeks. “Now you understand how I feel about you keeping concerns about your safety to yourself. There will never be a question again, will there?”

  She sniffed, “No, sir.” He patted her bottom and lifted her to his lap, keeping her within the protection of his arms.

  “But, well…”

  Quinn’s eyebrows peaked in disbelief, but she continued. “What if I don’t think it is?”

  “What if you don’t think it is what?”

  “Risky, unsafe, what if I don’t think it’s unsafe?”

  “Sweetheart, you need to use your best judgment but in this situation, there is no way you thought this was benign when you are talking about disappearing money.”

  “But I only deal with money and numbers and sometimes that money disappears, and I find out where. It’s my job to make sure the numbers add up correctly for my clients. You would want me to find the source of the discrepancy for any of the family businesses. I can’t do less for anyone else.”

 
“Okay, I see that but you know when you are into more than normal problems and that is the point you need to tell me.”

  “All right, I’ll pay attention.”

  He stood up with her and made love to her lips before leading her downstairs to drink the coffee he had made. He poured them both a cup as Cheyenne scrambled eggs with bacon, still pouting and rubbing her bottom but trying to keep it to herself.

  “I love you, a stór, and I want you to stay out of trouble. Do not go to Martin’s place today, got me? I need to think about this whole situation, and until I have, you are staying away. I know you can do work from home for a few days, anyway.”

  “I didn’t plan on going there today,” came the suspiciously too compliant response.

  “Good.” He nodded and smiled. “I need to go. I have an early meeting at the sheriff’s department. You need to know that if you decide to go to the Double S before we sit down and really talk about what might be going on, I’ll not only whip your ass with my tawse, I’ll do it every night this week. And then we’ll progress to the next level if it happens again.”

  His stern, no nonsense stance gave Cheyenne a shiver. He rarely took that tone or that hard attitude with her but on the few times he did, she rued the day she did not heed it. She could still remember the feel of the belt from this morning. The last time he had progressed from his hand, he hadn’t threatened the tawse then. He’d never used that before. Her dom husband was in full form. A force to be reckoned with and one she had no intentions of challenging. All that said and done, she had the queasy, excited shiver run through her veins at his dominance.

  She shook her head. “No, I won’t. But we already talked about it last night,” she pointed out as she poured another cup of coffee.

  “No, you said it was more than you thought, that’s only opening the door, not letting it all out.”