A dirt path deviated from the asphalt, and Amanda spun her bike onto it. Amanda’s bike was a racing bike, made for the street, so her decision surprised him. He had a hybrid, with wider tires, designed to be equally adept at both pavement and rougher surfaces. He chuckled. Definitely not like Cheri. Even if he’d let her ride in front, Cheri would have been asking him for directions.
The ground, though, was hard and not too difficult. It hadn’t rained in days. Amanda was able to keep her bike going smoothly through twists and turns and over a few roots. She seemed to know what she was doing, whereas Jeremy knew he was getting by on sheer muscle power.
Suddenly, the path ended in patch of grass. Amanda turned her bike sharply sideways and brought it to a halt. She kicked down the kickstand. Jeremy slammed on the brakes, remembering in the nick of time that it was important to apply the rear brakes first, so as to avoid being thrown forward. He managed not to hit her as she dismounted.
She grinned at him. “You really are rusty, aren’t you?”
“I did tell you.”
“You did. But I thought you might be feigning inexperience. Like last time.” She took off her helmet, revealing her loose brown hair.
He dismounted. “No, not this time.”
“Why did you last night?”
“Well, it’s been a while. I suppose I wanted to start over. Look at it all with fresh eyes. I don’t know how to continue from what I had before.”
“With your wife.”
“Yes.”
She walked toward him until she was standing kissably close. “You loved her.”
“Yes.” He met her gaze. He didn’t want to talk about Cheri. He was tempted to cut her off. She couldn’t be enjoying talking about another woman, either.
“I’m very good at role-playing, Jeremy. Schoolgirl, expensive hooker, nurse, maid, waitress—I can be anything you want. But of course, I can’t be her.”
“She’s irreplaceable. What if what I want is for you to be Amanda?”
“Oh, everyone gets tired of that pretty quick,” she said.
Ouch. Did she really believe that? He didn’t want to think of what experiences had driven her to that conclusion. He reached out and stroked her cheek. He knew why she had pulled off on the side path now. She was looking for some privacy. A chance to talk, perhaps. Maybe more. It wasn’t secure enough for sex, and it was too cold to go undressed anyway. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. They’d share what warmth they had. “I think Amanda is interesting.”
“I think you’re mistaken.”
He swatted her, almost without thinking about it. She yelped, even though her bike shorts gave her plenty of padding.
“What was that for?”
“Let’s try again. You’re interesting, Amanda.”
He watched her eyes as the gears turned in her head. Then, slowly, deliberately, she said, “I think you’re mistaken, Sir.” She tilted her chin up, mischief playing in her eyes.
If Cheri had pulled that stunt, he would have walked away and come back to spank her later. But then, Cheri never would. Amanda was totally different.
He pulled her to the side, while wrapping his other arm around her waist to hold her in place, with the result that she ended up bent over. Then he spanked her, hard. He had to resist the urge to pull her pants down so that she would feel his hand better, but he didn’t know the likelihood of another cyclist coming down the same path for a break in the clearing. Some risks needed to be negotiated.
“Is that all you got?” she asked, looking over her shoulder with a grin.
Clothed and in the woods, there was a limit to what he could do to her. Especially with those damn padded shorts. For a moment, he was stymied. “Not a good safe word,” he remarked.
“No.”
“You think you’re safe, don’t you?”
“Yes. Kind of hoping I’m wrong, though. For some definitions of safe, anyway.”
He slipped his hand down her legs and wiggled his fingers ever so lightly on the back of her knee. She jumped as if he’d used a cattle prod.
“No,” she said.
“Also not a safe word. I’d recognize red, though.” He paused, giving her a chance to say it. She didn’t. He tickled her again, this time getting his other hand into the action, his arm wrapped around her to restrict her movement while he feathered his fingers over her ribs and the back of her leg.
She shrieked and tried to grab his arm. She wasn’t strong enough to budge it. She slipped out of his grasp, though, and made it to the ground. He fell on top of her, pinning her, his hands exploring the sides of her breasts and her armpits. He was rewarded with gasping exclamations as loud as any she made at Excess.
She punched his chest. He ignored it. She tried to writhe away, but she was trapped. She tossed an elbow in the direction of his face, and he had to dodge. Still she didn’t safe word.
She panted and squirmed underneath him. His cock hardened, and he knew she could feel it. He explored which points were the most ticklish. The best was the most convenient—right below her ribs, on her side. He didn’t know about her feet, and he had no desire to get kicked. Tickling was dangerous unless the victim was tied down, and he was well aware he had only himself to blame if he got injured.
He decided she’d had enough. The scene hadn’t exactly been negotiated, although he’d given her an out. He let her catch her breath, knowing she didn’t know whether or not he was pausing or was done. “Still think I can’t find a way to get to you, Amanda, just because you’re wearing padded shorts?”
“Um. No, Sir.” She shook her head vigorously. “No, Sir.”
“Good girl.” He leaned over, stretching his body against hers, and kissed her hard. Her lips parted for him, and her nostrils flared as she kept trying to catch her breath. It felt good to be in charge again. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, feeling her chest heaving under his. She wrapped her arms around him.
He rolled over, pulling her along, knowing he would be able to take her weight more easily than the reverse. She grinned when their lips parted, and gulped in air. He slipped a hand into her shirt where the zipper had parted it oh so nicely, enjoying the feel of her breast in his hand—exactly a handful for his long fingers. Her sigh was his reward.
Amanda dipped her head to kiss again. His heart leaped at the simplicity of it, and he drank in her kiss as if it were fine wine. It went to his head the same way. He hadn’t expected to end up making out like a high schooler when he’d decided to go to Excess, nor had he wanted to. But it was the only way to connect in the middle of the woods, where anyone might come by.
Amanda tried to pull him back over and laughed when he wouldn’t move. He laughed back and rolled on top of her, pressing her on the ground with his body between her legs. He caught her wrists and held them down, then ground against her, his hard cock pressing against her pussy. There was way too much padding between them. It didn’t stop her from matching his movements and pushing her crotch back against his hard-on. He could feel her heart beating against his chest.
He heard footsteps crackling the small branches on the path. Reluctantly, he rolled off Amanda. She looked at him oddly before she heard it too. She glanced over. A jacketed shape and a dog were making their way down the path. She sat up, zipped her top, and whispered, “Good catch,” to Jeremy.
“I try.”
“So now what?”
It was a good question, whether she meant it in the short term or something slightly longer. Friday night in the club had been simple, contained. A scene, no more. Making out in the woods was something else entirely, and the two put together meant the one thing he sensibly should not be doing. A relationship. He couldn’t claim it was too soon after Cheri, but it was going fast. Still, it wasn’t as if they were figuring out their finances together or anything. What had happened was purely physical.
“We brazen it out,” he murmured, answering the short-term question.
The figure came closer, and it appea
red to be an older man. “Nice day for a walk,” Jeremy said. Amanda gave a wave. The man grunted. The dog pulled on its master’s leash, and the man pulled back, hard. Clearly, he wasn’t happy to find a couple in his spot.
“We were just leaving.” Jeremy got to his feet. The moment had passed. He reached down to help Amanda to her feet. Amanda moved to her bike. He put his hand on her shoulder and shook his head. Getting his own bike, he walked it back down the trail, glancing behind him to make sure Amanda was following. The old man stood in the middle of the clearing, watching them and muttering to himself.
They returned to the main path single file, and then Amanda got ready to mount her bike again. He put a hand around her waist to stop her. “I want to play with you again,” he said.
“Oh. I’d like to play with you again too.” She smiled.
He reached out and tugged on her zipper, returning it to the position it had been in while she was riding. “I like control, Amanda. Lots of it.”
He locked his gaze with her, daring her to zip it back up. She didn’t touch it. She stood there breathing.
“Master-and-slave kind of control?” she asked.
FOR A MOMENT Jeremy looked at Amanda like a deer caught in headlights. Finally, he answered. “I don’t know you that well. Let’s go slow.”
Amanda wasn’t sure what to make of his answer. She had friends who were very happy in intense, 24-7 relationships where they were expected to obey at all times. Her own experience was that after a night or two at the club, the last thing she wanted was anything to do with BDSM. It was great in short, intense bursts, and then she needed to snuggle with her cat. She pressed on. “But that’s where you want to get to, eventually?”
He shook his head. “I don’t have an eventually. I’m living in the now. And I want to do wicked things to you.”
Wicked things. That sounded promising. “And if I give you control, what will you do?” She moved closer to him until her chest bumped against his.
“Maybe it’s time you told me about your limits,” he said.
He’d dodged the question, but obviously he needed to know. “No scat or water sports or any of that gross stuff. No needles. No marks where my clothes don’t cover. I’m trying to get a new job, and I need to be able to make a good impression. Nothing, um, permanent.”
“Those are all limits most people have. I want to know who you are.”
“You want me to tell you what I’m scared of.” Single tails. Fire. Knives.
“Yes.”
“I don’t want to tell you.”
“Tell me one thing.”
“I don’t want you to use it against me.”
“You’ll have to trust me.”
“I don’t really even know you.” Amanda turned her head.
Jeremy tucked a finger under her chin and turned her back. “One thing, Amanda.”
She felt unable to resist. But she rejected each thing she thought of in turn. Her heart beat faster. She had to tell him something or run away. She didn’t want to run.
“I’m afraid of being alone,” she blurted. Which wasn’t the sort of thing she had wanted to say at all.
Jeremy pulled her in and kissed her hard. The force of it took her breath away. She intertwined her tongue with his and held on.
He let go at last. “Is that why you went to find someone to play with last night after I left you? Not because you were unsatisfied, but because you hate being alone?”
“Yes. I mean, no. I didn’t find someone to play with. I curled up in a couch with my friend Callie, and we shared stories and griped to each other for a bit, and then I went home. I don’t even know why I said that, about being alone. I live alone. I’m happy. It’s just when we’re talking about kinky stuff, that’s what I hate. The idea that the person I’m with is going to walk away and just find someone else, as if I’m a replaceable part. I’m afraid of drop.”
“I see.” His voice was neutral.
She searched his eyes for meaning until she got it. “That’s totally what I did to you, isn’t it?”
“Yes. In a way. But at the same time I triggered it by leaving you so quickly, didn’t I? I have no good excuse for that, either. I imagine that what you said to me was a form of self-protection. Telling me I’m replaceable is a way of deadening the pain of being deserted.”
“Or a way of throwing the first punch.”
He nodded. “Or that, yes. Do you like resistance play?”
Amanda grinned. “Love it.”
“Thought you might.”
In resistance play, the bottom got to struggle and even try to escape the top. The few times she’d done it, she felt this buzz at being subdued and conquered. Although there was that one time when she’d split open Percival’s lip. It didn’t always go well. But Jeremy had been able to easily subdue her as he tickled her. He was clearly strong and agile. Even with his bike in the wrong gear, he’d been able to catch up to her. Yeah, resistance play with Jeremy could be fun.
He leaned over again, and Amanda hoped he was about to kiss her. His lips carried an almost electrical charge. It was more than hunger. Lots of people were enthusiastic, but Jeremy gave the impression that he was fully there when he kissed in a way she hadn’t remembered anyone else being. She couldn’t wait to do it again.
“We should definitely play again. My house?” asked Jeremy.
Amanda wanted to. One on one sounded wonderful. But she barely knew him, and there were risks. She didn’t think he was a serial killer or anything, but he was definitely stronger than her and things could go bad in a hurry. “No. Maybe the club?”
“I could become a member, couldn’t I?”
“Or you could go as my guest.” As soon as she said it, she recognized the impulse. As a member, he could go anytime he wanted and play with anyone. As her guest, he was dependent on her. A real submissive, she supposed, wouldn’t want to control her dom that way. But she wanted Jeremy all to herself for a while. That was why she had chased after a newbie dom in the first place. Although Jeremy hadn’t turned out to be one.
“I don’t think that would suit either of us, do you?” Jeremy smiled. “I’ll buy a membership. I can afford it. Tonight, then. First, we finish our ride.”
“Tonight. Already?”
“Do you have plans?”
She shook her head. “No plans except to look cute and hope to hook up with someone at the club for a bit, and I guess the hooking-up part has been solved.”
Jeremy nodded. “It has indeed.” He got on his bike. “Farther in or back?”
She strapped her helmet on again. “Back, I think.” She’d sweated enough. Besides, there was a chance of more enjoyable exercise later. She wondered what he had in store for her. Perhaps she should negotiate further, the way she usually did, and make sure it was something she enjoyed. She weighed that against the pleasure of letting him take the lead and decided she’d rather take her chances. He’d heard her hard limits. In the club, she’d have people watching over her. If he tried to push it to some strange place, it would tell her she’d been right not to go to his home. If not, well, at some point she might want to play with him in private. Everything in the club was partially for show, which could be exciting but lacked intimacy.
He put his helmet back on. This time he took the lead, setting a challenging pace. She supposed he may have gotten misconceptions from the way she had sped off before. Then, she had been driven by an impish desire to make him chase. Biking was something she considered herself good at. Now, however, it meant that she had to bend over and put her heart into what would normally be a gentle return trip. She felt odd about the amount of cleavage she was showing too, although he had returned the zipper to exactly the place she had it before. The message he was sending was clear. You can be a brat or a tease. But you have to back it up.
You’ll see, Sir. I can. You won’t be disappointed, and I’ll be worth the chase.
Chapter Four
Amanda looked up at the giant clock that h
ad been installed over the entrance to the dungeon room. Cell phones had recently been banned at Excess, and lots of people, including Amanda, relied on a cell phone instead of using a watch. So Gray had put in the three-foot-wide clock. Nine twenty-five. Jeremy had said he’d meet her at nine thirty. She stood in the gallery, at the spot where she could see the door, and tried not to stare too obviously in that direction. Her eyes flicked over the scenes in the middle—a spanking, a single-tail demonstration—without any particular interest.
She’d gone through a half-dozen outfits before settling on one. Debated between shaving her pussy and leaving it natural. She didn’t know anything about what Jeremy would like. She’d searched for a profile on a popular fetish site where she often researched new people and had come back empty. She’d had blind dates where she knew more details about her partner.
In the end she’d set the razor aside and had decided to go basic black. She had on a short cocktail dress, heels, and thigh-high stockings. Beneath, for him to discover, were matching black lace and panties, and a garter belt. The hem of the dress showed off glimpses of thigh and suspenders when she moved.
“Amanda,” said a husky male voice behind her.
She didn’t have to turn to find out who it was. The last “steady” dom she’d had, Blackie. Blackie had made her swear off relationships for a while, preferring the occasional play partner. It had been hot for a while. But every date they’d had, Blackie had pushed farther until Amanda was outside her comfort zone. As far as Blackie was concerned, a safe word was the end of a relationship. It had been exciting at first, to know she had no easy out. But then she had waited too long to say the word while her hands were going numb from the tightness of the rope around her wrists. If Master Vincent hadn’t interfered with the scene when he saw her hands turning blue and her grimacing in pain from the way the rope around her shoulder pinched her nerve, she could have been seriously hurt.
“What do you want, Blackie?” said Amanda coldly.
He put a hand on her shoulder, his fingers touching the bare flesh exposed by the wide neckline. “You,” he said.
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