This Just In [Internet Bonds Series Book 6]

by Christy Poff

* * * *

  Ainsley arrived at Second Sight anticipating an enjoyable evening. Instead, she watched it fall apart long before it ever got started. Brett Quincannon, a gorgeous hunk of male with dark hair and dark eyes, left her alone, furious at her for some reason.

  Figuring she'd see him drowning his sorrows at the bar, it surprised her to find out he'd left the club entirely. She found it interesting to learn he'd been pacing, unsure of himself. She had never met a man who stirred such intense emotions in her the way Quincannon did but, as quickly as she found him, she'd lost him.

  She watched him storm out of her life, shaking her head.

  "Mistress Anya, are you all right?"

  "Yes, though a little confused,” she answered. “I'll be all right."

  "Can I help?” he asked, placing his hand on her neck.

  "Not tonight. I've had a long day. Can you call this number—it's my limo driver's."

  "Yes, Mistress."

  Within half an hour, she walked into the hotel, entered the private elevator and waited for it to take her to the penthouse floor. Once inside the room, she dropped the shawl and her clutch on a table then turned on the television.

  She walked to the window overlooking a spectacular view and thought. Her ego a little bruised, Ainsley admitted to feeling hurt by a man she now craved more than chocolate. She'd felt a unique bond with Brett Quincannon only to have him become angry with her for some reason and walk out on what could have been a very promising evening. God, I want to train him...

  Ainsley didn't like the way she felt. Why do I feel so damned empty?

  She heard a knock on the door and checked the clock wondering who would be visiting at this hour. Only certain people knew she was staying in this hotel suite.

  "What do you think you're doing here?"

  A few moments later, Brett Quincannon reentered her life. She didn't know why and prayed she hadn't made a huge mistake. She sat down on the couch, careful of how she sat in the leather gown. She hoped he'd say what he had to and leave so she could get into something more comfortable. Mixed emotions filled her, Ainsley not caring for this at all.

  "Mister Quincannon, I'm sure you have something else to occupy your time this evening instead of standing in my suite saying nothing."

  "I'm having trouble understanding what you do to me. You have a hold on me I can't begin to figure out. All I know is I went from feeling a unique connection to a beautiful seductive woman to feeling sick to my stomach after I left you."

  "You are an infuriating man."

  "That I know."

  "Then we agree on one thing, at least,” she said.

  "Are you always like this?"

  "I'm a Dominant. What do you expect?"

  "Be serious."

  "I am,” she answered flatly. “Why are you so damned mad at me?"

  "I don't know. Maybe it's confusion..."

  "Confusion?” she asked.

  "I'm used to being in control. Somehow, when I'm with you, I have none."

  "So because you are confused, you're mad at me?"

  "Actually, I'm angry at myself. I shouldn't have treated you the way I did. I'm so sorry. I..."

  "I normally punish my subs for their disobedience."

  "I see,” he said, looking away.

  "Apology accepted. Is there anything else you want to discuss or..."

  "Why won't you give me an inch here?"

  "Because I can't. I don't trust you. I expected to get to know you over a quiet dinner but you left before we had the chance to order drinks. I'm hungry and tired..."

  "That's two of us, lady. Can I..."

  "Maybe later after I find out if you're staying."

  Ainsley hated having a war of words with a man she wanted fucking her. No man stirred her the way Brett Quincannon did and probably no man ever would but, as long as they kept playing games, they would never learn anything. She hated the feeling of frustration.

  Chapter 4

  Brett began pacing again, driving Ainsley crazy.

  "Stop it,” she quietly commanded. “You want to understand? Well, here's your first chance."

  Brett froze, staring at her. Unsure of what she meant, he knew one thing—he wanted her in whatever way he could have her.

  "Remove the jacket and your shirt."

  He did then went for his belt.

  "Did I say pants?"

  "No."

  "No, Mistress. Submissives respect their Doms. Now, what did you say?"

  Brett found it hard to say two simple words. He couldn't answer her, not knowing if it was because of his male ego or if he really wanted punishment. What the...

  While he fought with himself, she walked over to where an elegant designer briefcase sat. He watched her open it and take out a long thin flogger with suede tips.

  "Well?” she asked.

  "I can't say it. It's not me...” he began.

  "Then I can't help you. Get dressed and leave me alone."

  "Anya, please, you have to understand—I've never been in this position before. I don't know how to handle this. My God, woman, I want to fuck you so much, I can't think straight. Please, don't walk away from me."

  Brett fell to his knees, pent-up emotions bursting out of him. She watched him, waiting for more of this epiphany. Quincannon had a past and something from it prevented him from exploring the unknown with her.

  "I've always been in control of every aspect of my life—until now. You came into my life and turned me inside-out.” Something in him sensed she waited for him to go on and she somehow knew him. How?

  "I want to do things totally alien to me. I'm confused about it. When we IMed, I felt something—a strange, unfamiliar presence haunted me. I heard your voice and knew I had to be with you. For some unexplained reason, I need you in my life."

  "Everyone has a submissive side—even Dominants. In order to be sure about your true calling, both must be experienced. You came to me to learn. You cannot learn if you do not allow yourself to open up to me. You must trust me and until you do..."

  "But..."

  "What bothers you? You have to understand that anything which happens between us stays between us. If you decide you want more and you are up to it, then we can explore it. I am a Dominant and I do punish for disobedience. I wouldn't be doing either one of us any good if I didn't. A slave is not in the position to control a situation unless the Dom allows it. Do you want to willingly give up control of your life to me?"

  "I ... don't ... know..."

  "Is it fear? Are you afraid you might enjoy being my slave? Does it bother you that you might crave being cuffed and restrained and begging for the release only I will allow?"

  "I am an alpha male personality. My old man pounded the theory into my head at a young age about men taking charge of life in every sense of the word."

  "Then, in essence, you are willing to give up a wonderful evening with me and sexual satisfaction because it doesn't fit into an archaic theory which no longer applies?"

  "No, I'm not willing to but I can't just change my entire life in the space of..."

  "When you feel you can, call me. I will be here for a few more days before I leave to return home."

  "I don't understand, I thought..."

  "I will be happy to train you once you are emotionally ready. I will not force it on you until you willingly allow it. Yes, I am a Dominant but I have never forced anything on anyone and I will not start now."

  "Please, explain to me why—every time you tell me to leave, I feel empty."

  "I'm sure I don't know—coincidence, maybe?"

  "You are joking—right?” he asked.

  "I'm trying to give you a graceful exit. You can walk out of here without looking back and knowing it will go no further than this."

  "Why do I feel like you never intended to do this? What am I—a quick lay?"

  "No, you are a very confused man. I need you to be sure. This is not something to be taken lightly. It's not a game."

  "I am sure...
"

  * * * *

  Ainsley looked at him, unsure what step to take next. Her body ached for his touch. Quincannon had something about him she wanted to know more about. She watched him, wanting to know who else had seen his vulnerability like she had earlier. She could hear his silent pleas for her help, understanding them and his loud cries for her body. Still, they had to get past his stubbornness.

  "You said you wanted to fuck me."

  "Yes."

  "Dominance and submission deal with rewards and punishments. Right now, we cannot even begin. Your reward for obedience is the fuck you crave. In essence, it's like anything else in life."

  "What does that mean?” he asked, confusion in his eyes.

  "You have to crawl before you can walk."

  "Help me,” he begged, surprising her.

  "I can't until you let go of your persona in my presence. When you are doing what it is you normally do, then act accordingly but if this is to work, you have to let go. It will stay between us. You made the start by adhering to the dress code at the club and by giving them your medical sheet. The rest should be enjoyable for both of us."

  The silence in the room became deafening.

  "Yes, Mistress Anya,” he whispered.

  Ainsley smiled making sure Quincannon didn't see it. She went to him, kneeling in front of him, wanting to be eye-level with him.

  "Are you ready to go on?"

  "Yes, Mistress, I am."

  "Do you understand what you are doing?"

  "Yes, I do."

  "This is serious,” she reminded him.

  "Yes, I know."

  "All right,” she said, standing up. “The first thing you need to learn is presentation. A submissive presents himself or herself to their Dominant and it's respectfully done, showing the sub's ready to be given a command. I like my slave to stand before me with his feet apart, hands behind him and head bowed. In private—like this—I want you to either be in silk boxers or naked. I hate Tidy Whities."

  "Yes, Mistress, should I..."

  "Strip out of your clothes? Yes, I want to see if you're worth all this."

  He did as she commanded, carefully laying his clothes over a chair, his boots beneath it. She watched him position his body for her inspection, pleased he had begun to relax with her.

  "Very nice and I like the color,” she said, complimenting his black silk underwear.

  "Thank you, Mistress."

  "Are the words coming to you easier?"

  "Yes, Mistress."

  "Excellent,” she complimented. “Now, I'd like you to remove my gown but with care while you seduce me."

  "Yes, Mistress Anya,” he said.

  She turned her back to him, wanting to see if he'd comment on her scars. Holding her breath, she felt his very cautious fingertips move her hair out of his way. She heard him gasp but he chose to act as a gentleman and didn't say anything. Point for him.

  Slowly, he pulled the zipper down the length of her back. She felt freedom course through her when the dress released its hold on her body. Now, to see how he would remove it.

  She felt some hesitation for a few seconds before he surprised her by lifting her out of the dress before setting her down next to him. He took her gown and laid it over another chair.

  "Very ... imaginative...” she commented.

  "Thank you, Mistress,” he said. “May I say Mistress is a gorgeous woman?"

  "Thank you, slave,” she replied, heat coursing through her. “By the way, what is your first name, Quincannon?"

  "Brett, Mistress."

  "Excellent,” she said. She walked in front of him before she faced him. Before she did, she took a deep breath and let it out slowly. His touch had sent shocks through her. She felt her nipples pressing against the corset she wore, her breasts begging for release from the restraining garment. She felt how damp her thong had become, silently berating her body's obvious betrayal. What the hell does this guy have and why does he do this to me?

  "My pussy needs attention,” she managed to say.

  "How, Mistress?"

  "Lick it, slave,” she ordered. She wanted to see if her graphic command would shock him but it didn't.

  "Where, Mistress?"

  "Right here,” she said. “I want you on your knees then you will remove only my thong before you give me a good tongue-fuck."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  She smiled at his slip.

  "If it is more comfortable for you to call me ma'am, you may."

  "Thank you, ma'am, it is."

  She languished in her body's reaction to his touch—easy and smooth. He gently removed her thong before she parted her legs for him.

  "Tell me what you see right now."

  "I see magnificence. I've never seen a clean pussy like yours before. You are beautiful, Mistress Anya. Your dangle is driving me mad."

  "Good, now obey me."

  "Gladly, ma'am."

  Ainsley felt the heat of his breath on her damp nether lips and damned near jumped out of her skin. His tongue played with her clit dangle, doing things to her no man had ever done before. She held her reaction, praying for relief from his siege on her senses but she realized he'd yet to get started.

  "Brett, I need to sit down,” she stammered.

  "Yes, ma'am,” he said.

  Somehow, they made it the few inches to the chair her gown covered. Out of frustration, she threw the dress aside before settling in the chair, her ass on the edge while Brett never lost contact with her. Once she had the support of the chair, she spread her legs more for him giving him as much access to her body as she could.

  He teased her senses nipping her sensitive lips and he had yet to enter her. She writhed, her body meeting his lips. Finally, she felt the heat of his tongue entering her core, lapping at her, drinking from her. She pressed his head closer, her orgasm overwhelming her.

  "Brett, my God,” she cried out while he continued. If your cock is as good as your tongue, I'll fight to keep you.

  Her hands went to the corset, fighting the closures. She wanted to be free of it so she could feel his hands on her aching breasts. Finally, it came undone, the cool air hardening her already firm nipples even more. Freedom felt good considering she'd lost count how many times he'd taken her over the edge. Her body had yet to stop reacting.

  She felt him pull back, needing to catch his breath. Ainsley could not believe the emptiness running through her.

  "Ma'am?"

  "It will be a pleasure to train you."

  * * * *

  In Philadelphia, police responded to a remote area of Fairmount Park. A bicyclist, on his morning training ride, found the body of a dark-haired woman. From what they could tell from their initial assessment of the crime scene, the victim had been dumped near the Wissahickon Creek after being killed somewhere else. They found evidence of lashing over her back and torso. Ligature marks around her neck indicated the woman had been strangled, the detective catching the case noting she had no ID on her and nothing had been found in the immediate area.

  The medical examiner's report confirmed strangulation as the cause of death while noting the open wounds on the victim. He also noted scars from a similar attack anywhere from one year to a year and a half prior.

  "She was a beauty before he finished with her,” the detective commented to his partner.

  "Damn shame."

  * * * *

  Brett Quincannon felt more satisfaction orally pleasing Mistress Anya than he had at any other time in his life. All the others could not compare to the woman he now submitted to.

  The minute his tongue touched her clit, he knew exactly where he wanted—and needed—to spend the rest of his life. He'd only taken her with his tongue, his hands behind his back the entire time. To drink from her made his cock swell, his body crying to be rid of the boxers and ready for her touch.

  Looking up the length of her naked body kept him aroused. He'd missed when she took off the corset. In fact, he didn't care when it happened. To
look up and see ultimate beauty reacting to his touch sent him further over the edge.

  "Brett, I ... My God..."

  "May I touch you, Mistress?"

  "Yes,” she answered, her body trembling.

  He pulled his hands from behind his back then traced along her sides until his fingertips touched her nipples. She arched her back, pushing her breasts into his hands. Brett drove his tongue into her once more, Anya moaning.

  "Your command, Mistress Anya?"

  "Fuck me senseless and do not hold back!"

  "Yes, ma'am,” he said, enthusiastically. He continued drinking from her, his hands leaving her breasts only long enough to remove his silk boxers. He repositioned himself before pulling her from the chair onto his lap. He felt her hot, wet pussy envelop his cock, the feeling glorious.

  "I think I've died and gone to heaven, Mistress."

  "Me too,” she agreed.

  Brett teased her overheated body with his tongue while he gently moved her up and down on his shaft. Her impatient moans told him what her body wanted and he moved to obey. Once he had her on her back, her legs around his, he took her hands and pinned them to the floor. He thrust in then pulled back slowly in order to tease her. When he saw her frustration, he knew not to push her too much more or she would dole out her punishment no matter how much she enjoyed it.

  Anya pushed him to do things he never would have considered before this evening. He'd never submitted to any woman and he surely never considered his partner's feelings. He'd always taken, never gave. He'd never restrained a woman before like he held Anya and he'd never thought it possible to allow his natural drive command what he was about to do to her.

  Brett Quincannon rammed his cock into Anya's pussy and pounded her body. She held on for the ride, her hands clenching in his. She groaned each time he thrust deep into her core, hitting one of her erogenous spots and it served to drive him more. Brutal sexual drive overwhelmed him, Anya riding the storm within him.

  "Mistress, I'm there."

  "Fuck me, Brett. Fill me while my pussy bathes your cock."

  "Yes, ma'am."

  Anya cried out, Brett exploding the essence of his life into her. She begged him for more and he tried to obey her.

  "Mistress, I..."

  "I know. I think we have a problem."