I ignore his bait, replying genuinely, “Yes, I do.”
“Right. Then take tonight. Commit yourself to this life. And when you and Carter begin tomorrow, do your best.”
I say, “But you know me. What if I mess it up? What if I can’t be... submissive.”
His voice is softer now. Caring, almost. He says, “You can. And Carter will teach you. You just have to do your part—commit to the lifestyle. Sasha—”
“Yes?”
“You’re going to do great, sweetheart.” He smiles and for an instant, I feel bad about my nail print in the leather. He says, “I know someone who used to be a lot like you.”
“Who?” I ask.
He smiles. There’s a faraway look in his eyes. He says, “Mary.”
My brows arch in surprise. I say, “What? She’s the most submissive, docile—”
He raises his brows at me, smirking. “She is now.”
“Oh.” My face burns. I think of the spatula.
He says, “And you will be too.”
My early determination is waning. “Let’s not hold our breath,” I mutter.
We pull up to the hotel. I’m suddenly exhausted. John gets out, comes around and opens my door. He gives me his hand, helping me from the car. I give him a shy look. I’m unsure of what to say.
“Goodnight, Sasha,” he says. He gives me a gentle kiss on the cheek. I smell his cologne. It’s the same Carter wears. The scent makes me miss Carter even more.
“Goodnight, John.” I turn. I walk toward the hotel. I hear his engine rev just before the lobby doors shut. I grab two chocolate chip cookies—I’ve earned them—and I head to my room.
When I’m ready for bed, I slip into the covers and fall into a troubled sleep.
* * *
It feels like only moments later when the sun is shining in my eyes. I blink them open. I slowly stretch my muscles. Then I realize what today is and a smile bursts across my lips.
He’s taking me back.
I’m going home today.
I jump from the hotel bed, a renewed determination running through me. I take a long shower. Blow-dry my hair and leave it down, cascading over my shoulders. The way Carter loves it most. I opt for my workout skirt and a long sleeve shirt in blush rose. I put on just a dab of mascara and gloss that I’ve found in the bottom of my bag. I pack my things. I throw my bag over my shoulders.
My feet feel light as I glide to the elevator. I hum to myself as I travel down to the lobby. Just one day of work and then I’ll be home. There’s a ding and the doors open. I step out of the elevator.
I stop in my tracks. My heart lurches into my throat. My hand flutters to my opened mouth.
Carter.
He’s dressed in his light blue button-down and jeans. His hair is gelled and combed. He’s wearing flip-flops. He’s not planning on working.
Our eyes lock. He says, “I’ve come to take you home.”
My lips move to form words, but I’m speechless. My heart comes back to my chest, pounding. My bags drop from my shoulders. My arms reach out for him.
He’s across the lobby in a few long strides. I throw my arms around his neck. He wraps around me. He’s holding me. He smells so good. He feels so good. His chin is resting on the top of my head.
“Thank you,” I breathe. I will the tears pricking in my eyes to leave me be. I’ve cried enough.
He holds me. His hands rub my back. He kisses the top of my head.
He pulls away. He takes all of my bags in one of his strong hands. Takes my hand in his other. He looks at me and smiles. “Let’s go, baby girl. I’m ready to take you home.”
I feel an ugly cry brimming up from my gut. I don’t trust myself to speak. I give a nod. I give his big hand a squeeze with mine. He understands. He smiles. Squeezes mine back.
Moments later his driver has my bags in the trunk. Carter releases my hand, holding the door for me. We slide in and we are driving toward the Village.
I sneak a glance at Carter. He catches my eye and gives me a reassuring smile. He holds his opened palm out to me. I place my hand into it. His fingers wrap around. The back of his thumb caresses my skin. He tells me to relax. I take a deep breath and sit back in the seat. I watch out the window as the familiar buildings pass by.
We go through the gates.
We drive down the tree-lined streets of the Village. People who see us wave as we go by. They already know I’m coming home.
We pull up to One Nineteen, Fifth Street.
I sit in my seat in the car and stare at our house, taking it all in.
My wreath is still hanging on the door. At the sight of it, I burst into tears.
Without a word, Carter is there. His arm wraps around my shoulder, letting me cry on his chest. He rubs my back, murmuring, “Shush, baby. You’re home now.”
When I finally pull away and look at him, there are tears in his eyes.
“It’s so good to have you home, baby girl.”
My heart wells up in my chest. I make a weird noise between a sob and a choke. I wipe at my eyes, my nose. I have got to stop crying. I swear, I’ve sobbed more in the past few weeks than I have my entire life. His driver opens the door. We slide out of the car.
I step onto the sidewalk. I look up at the row of beautiful homes. I take a deep breath, savoring the moment.
His voice is racked with emotion. “Let’s go inside.”
Our fingers interlocking, we walk up the front steps. We stand before the door.
I have to know—before he can put his thumb on it, I reach up. I press my own fingerprint against the black pad. The lock clicks, the door opens. My heart beats with relief—he still hadn’t erased me from the keypads. When you’re deleted, every trace of you is gone.
I look to Carter.
He smiles, shaking his head. “Bronson told me to, but I didn’t. I think it’s the first order I haven’t obeyed. I just... couldn’t. It’d be like erasing you.” His thumb strokes my cheek.
I want to kiss him, but I sense he’s picking the time. So I don’t. I step into the foyer. I’m overwhelmed by the familiar fragrance. There’s the black and white photos of us. The wind whipping our hair around our faces, the beaches of Greece behind us. A selfie of the two of us on the Ferris wheel, a dot of melted chocolate on my cheek. The two of us picnicking with John and Mary, my quilt spread out on the ground beneath us.
I’m home.
To hell with waiting for him to kiss me. I turn around. I throw my arms around Carter. I jump, wrapping my legs around his waist. Clinging to him tightly. His hands go beneath my legs, grasping my bottom. I give him one long look then my mouth meets his.
It’s our first kiss since we broke up.
It’s as electrified as our first ever kiss was. As my mouth caresses his, I remember that night, my back pressed up against the sign of the pub we’d been drinking at. Carter kissing me, slipping his hands beneath my short skirt. As he does now.
The delicious tingles of passion rush down my spine. Dance through my limbs. My head feels floaty. My skin sensitive to his every touch.
He ends the kiss too soon. He pulls away. I’m left wanting, my tender lips parted.
His gaze locks on mine. “We have some things to discuss. I think it’s time we had a little chat.” His hand squeezes my ass beneath my skirt.
I’m still dizzy from the kiss. My stomach clenches. I remember the brown leather strap. I want to be the submissive girl of his dreams. But sweat is suddenly forming beneath my arms. My tummy is queasy. “I...I, ah—” I look at him.
Now he’s supporting me with only one strong arm beneath my bottom. His other hand strokes my hair back from my forehead. “Come, on, baby girl.” He kisses my forehead. His voice, his soft kiss are soothing.
I’m still unsure.
Before I can protest, he’s carrying me up the stairs. He’s shifted me to his hip and I laugh, despite my nerves. I look like a little girl being carried. It reminds me of just how ridiculously strong he is. My arms
lock around his neck. I can feel the tug and pull of the round muscles in his shoulders as they work.
We reach the top stair of the third floor. He isn’t even out of breath.
He carries me over the open threshold of the master.
Our room.
I gulp. All the nerves are back, and I’m not sure I can go through with this.
Gently, he puts me down. My feet press into the floor. I shift my weight. “Carter—”
His hands are at the collar of his shirt. His eyes remain on me as he unbuttons it slowly. He slides the fabric over his shoulders, it falls to the floor. The smooth skin of his bare chest is exposed, muscles rippling.
He’s huge.
I look from his bulging biceps to the strap on the dresser. It’s there, tormenting me. My stomach ties in complicated knots. The strap lies next to something new. Something that wasn’t there before.
A wooden paddle.
Sweat forms at my brow. My knees feel weak. As if they will no longer hold my weight.
His arms are crossed, accentuating his muscles. His jeans hang from his trim waist, just low enough I can see the tops of his hipbones. The sight of them has my pussy dampening my panties despite my nerves.
“Shall we get down to business?” he asks.
“Carter, I—” I begin to back away from him, shaking my head. My hands go before me, forming two stop signals.
He gazes over me, sizing me up. He seems to be laughing at an inside joke. I’m quivering inside, hoping he’s going to call the whole thing off. Instead, he gives himself a decisive nod. He says, “I thought so.”
“Thought what?” I ask, still inching away.
“I knew I’d have to do this—”
In the blur of one expert movement he’s suddenly seated on the bed.
And I’m pinned over his lap.
My shirt has ridden up and the bare skin of his stomach is hot against my exposed side. His arm locks around my waist as he pulls me harder against him. Further into him. Our skin pressing together. Heat and angst rush through me as I squirm against him. I’m pushing my chest up from the bed. Kicking my legs in protest. Crying out no, and trying to get away.
He’s a human vise.
He parts his thighs and my kicking legs lose their support. The back half of my body is sliding off him, toward the floor. His position shifts beneath me. Rapidly, I’m bent over his muscular left thigh. His right leg has come behind me and locked in both of my legs. I’m no longer able to kick or move from the waist down.
I’m trapped.
My breath comes quicker—I’m panicking. Next mode of defense if I can’t kick—my right arm. I’m shouting that I’m not ready for this. I’m waving it behind me as best I can to prevent the spanking I know I have coming.
Unexpectedly, and with what feels like only his thumb and index finger, he has my weapon pinned to my back. My left arm is useless in my defense and I put in under my head, burying my face into it.
I’ve given up the fight.
Because I know what’s next. Him spanking my bottom like a naughty little girl. My face is already flushed from shame.
All through my fight, he remained silent. Now, with my body under his complete control, he says, “You done with your temper tantrum, baby girl? I know you’re strong, but know this... I’m stronger. A hell of a lot stronger.” My face burns. All those hours of pump, planks, and kickboxing, and he’s right...I’m like a kitten trapped in the lap of a lion.
His fingers tighten around my wrist. “Feisty. I like it. Let’s see how feisty you are after you’ve been thoroughly punished. First, I will spank you—”
The first spank lands. Hard. I suck a breath in between my teeth, taking in the sting. We’ve barely begun and already I feel my pussy getting wet. I try to squirm. I want to get away. To get closer. To alleviate the pressure, the tension his is putting into my body. Another spank lands. He continues, saying, “Then I will paddle you.”
My pussy stops misbehaving, my hips stop wiggling. I lie on the bed, frozen in fear. My stomach turns—being paddled? The new implement on the dresser—it looked so much more wicked than the strap. I squeak, “You never said anything about the paddle!”
“You not only have a leather strap, now, but also a personalized wooden paddle. Which I think you need a taste of, tonight.” His hand brushes over my skin. He says, “Then you will give me the corner time you owe me.”
Standing in the window for all to see. The thought makes me cringe. Makes my core throb. His hand stroking my ass feels delightful but all I can think about is the humiliation he’s outlined. I say, “Carter, I don’t think we need to do all that—”
He laughs. His hand comes down on my right cheek, my left cheek. I wince as each spank falls. My bottom is already starting to hurt. I beg, “Can we maybe ease into the lifestyle? You know... take it slow. Shouldn’t we take it slow?”
He spanks me. Harder than before. Punishing me for asking such a question. He speaks with total domination. “We took it slow. For the whole year we were engaged. Time to fast track this baby.” He’s pulling at my skirt. My face burns as I feel my ass exposed in my thong. I’ve got to start wearing more protective underwear. I feel him tugging at the fabric of my skirt at my waist.
I try to peer over my shoulder to see what he’s doing but his arm and shoulder are blocking my view. “What are you doing back there?” I ask.
He says, “I’m tucking your skirt into your waistband.”
“So it doesn’t get in your way?” I mumble miserably, dropping my head back down onto my arm.
He says, “No. So the Village can see your punished bottom from the front window.” He gives my bare ass a hearty slap.
My breath stops. The blush in my face drains. My skin feels all prickly, ice forms in my stomach.
We’ve all seen Tess Bachman, Brett’s wife, standing in the window with her red ass on display. But I thought it was because she got off on it. A sex thing. The idea is making me nauseous, but underneath that roil is my overactive pussy, traitorously melting and confusing the hell out of me.
There is no way Carter will make me stand, exposed and chastised in front of the entire Village. My punished ass on display for their visual enjoyment. Right? But I can already hear their whispered murmurs. It’s about damn time. Good to see Carter did a thorough job taming his brat.
I manage to squeak out, “You... you aren’t actually... serious, are you?”
“I’m afraid so, baby girl. It’s what you have coming.”
“When you said corner time, I thought you meant with all my clothes on.” My bottom lip is trembling. My knees feel weak. I want him to say he’s joking. To pull me up into his lap and hug me and tell me I’m forgiven. It’s all over.
Then take me out to lunch.
He’s not going to.
He’s finished his business with my skirt. Now, he’s at my waist, pulling on my thong.
“We can leave that. Can’t we?” I beg. It’s not much material but it’s something.
“No, we cannot.” He pulls it over my thighs, down my legs. The panties puddle around my feet.
His palm slides over my bottom. Goosebumps raise on my flesh. Unexpectedly, his fingers are between my legs.
Thank the gods! This is out of the blue. This is heaven!
I relax, lying on the bed and closing my eyes. My mouth hangs open as I sigh. I part my thighs, giving him easier access. His fingers are exploring me and I’m melting. The tension begins to ease, giving way to warm waves of pleasure. His finger enters me and I squeal.
“Somebody’s little cunny’s all wet.”
My God, the way he talks. I’m all cream and bonelessness and turning to a puddle of jelly over his hard lap. My mind screams, fuck me now!
His finger slides further inside me. My pussy clenches around it. He pumps his digit once. The pleasure is turning to a demanding desire. I groan, grinding against him, looking for relief.
I get none.
His finger with
draws and instead, I get a sharp slap on my ass that makes me whine.
Then I freeze.
His fingers are back between my legs. But they are headed somewhere they should not be. His finger is pressing against my asshole.
No. Fucking. Way.
My head flies over my shoulder. “No way! Uh-uh. You know I’m not a backdoor girl, Carter. You get out of there... now!”
His finger plunges into my ass.
Tears fill my eyes. I’m gasping for breath.
The shock of having him enter an unmentionable, off-limits area of my body has my face burning, my mind spiraling.
I’m trying to breathe, to come back down to Earth, but his finger is huge in there. I’m stretching and burning.
And my pussy is absolutely throbbing.
I’m lucid again and fury builds within me.
I’m going to kill him.
If I can get up off his lap and get his finger out of my ass first. Which makes me suddenly realize what he’s wanted me to realize this entire time.
He’s in complete control of me. And will be from now on.
I’ll settle down. Play nice. First things first. Get his finger out of me.
He moves within me and a whimper escapes my lips. Surprisingly, the stretching and burning is turning to this warm pulsing pleasure. I feel possessed by him, owned by him. The baffling sensation is making me impossibly wet.
But it’s so wrong.
I have to put a stop to this chaos he’s evoked in me. I say, “Carter. I see what’s going on here. And I understand.”
“Tell me, Sasha. What’s going on here?” His finger pumps in and out of my ass. I want to shriek. I want to hump something, anything. I’m so filled with shame at his intrusion and my pleasure I want to shut my eyes so tight I disappear. I hold my breath, count to five.
Then I say, “You want me to know you are in control. You want my submission. And you have it.” His finger stops moving—I’ve nailed it. Relief begins to well in my chest.
His finger remains very still inside of me as he speaks. “Such pretty words, Sasha. That’s a beautiful sentiment, thank you.”
I’ve done it. I’ve unlocked his code and now he’ll take his finger out.
Instead, his other finger travels across the cleft of my pussy collecting juices. Brutally pressing against my aching clit, then vanishes. My mind goes blank. The second finger is nearing the first. It’s making its way to my taut entrance. I gasp in pain as he presses it past my unwilling ring of muscles, to meet the other.
Carter: A Mafia Billionaire Romance Page 7