“What’s this?”
“Open it.”
Patricia unclasped the envelope and looked inside. “Marc, I don’t understand. I signed these and gave them to my lawyer months ago. He told me he sent them to your lawyer. I thought you had signed them and filed them.”
“I meant to. But Phil convinced me that we shouldn’t get legally separated until he had a chance to work with you some more. Then he came up with this unusual version of marriage counseling.”
“But if you haven’t filed them, the clock isn’t ticking yet. We have to be separated on paper for a year before we can file for a no-fault divorce.”
“And what if I told you I want to come home?”
Patricia put her coffee cup down, her hand visibly shaking. “But you told me you wanted out, that you couldn’t live with me anymore. You made that very clear when you left me.”
“I said that before you went into therapy, and before I understood what you’ve been holding inside.”
“When Dr. Richards told me you were willing to work with me, I thought you were just making sure I would be all right, I mean, all right without you. I didn’t know you were considering coming back.”
“I didn’t either. Not until this week. But goddamnit, Patricia, I still love you. I never wanted to get divorced, but I couldn’t reach you. You shut me out emotionally and physically. I couldn’t live like that anymore.”
Tears slid down Patricia’s cheeks. “I couldn’t help it. Once they made me a partner, I knew they were watching my performance. I had to make the grade, Marc, I just had to. I didn’t mean to freeze you out, it just happened.”
Marc handed her a napkin. “You know, this is twice in two days you’ve cried. I don’t remember the last time I saw you cry.”
“I cried when I signed those damn papers! I cried myself to sleep for a week after I sent them back to my lawyer.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“How could you? And how could you know how many nights I hugged your pillow before I went to sleep, and how many times I picked up the phone to ask you to give me another chance?”
“For God’s sake, Patricia, why the fuck didn’t you?”
Patricia swallowed a sob. “Because I didn’t think you loved me anymore. And honestly, I didn’t blame you. Who could love Ms. Piranha?”
Marc took her hand. “I could. And I still do. Patricia, you’ve made it. You are a success. You don’t have to prove anything to anyone, not to me, and certainly not to your father.”
Even with the tears, Patricia laughed. “What about Dr. Dick?”
“Phil will no doubt miss your sexy stories, but you owe him no explanation. Our reconciliation is enough.”
“Are we reconciling?”
“If you’ll let me move back home.”
“But you already have an apartment. And what about this place?”
“The apartment I have is a sublet, which is almost up. I meant to move into this loft, now that I’ve decided to keep it.”
“What happens to the loft if you’re coming home?”
“I’m still keeping it. It’s our special place. I can’t let it go.”
“Can we afford to keep two apartments in Manhattan?”
“Patricia. Of course we can! We’re doing it now.”
“I’m all fucked up. You’re right. The value of both properties will only go up. If we keep them for a few years, we’ll stand to make a huge profit by selling them.”
Marc laughed. “Your BlackBerry is still on the counter. Do you want it, Ms. Piranha?”
“Fuck, no.” Patricia sipped her coffee. “All I want right now is more coffee, and some more of this quiche.”
“And all I want is you.” Marc refilled her cup as she ate. “We have to also agree on something else.”
“What?”
“That we will continue playing, and maybe visit Lenny’s once in a while.”
“You like all of this, don’t you?”
“More than I ever thought I would. When Phil first suggested it, I’m sure he thought it would be no more than some spanking and perhaps some light bondage, something to suggest your dreams. He wanted us to have some common ground, where we could work through our problems.”
“He really is a stuffed shirt. When I first told him about my dreams, he kept clearing his throat. Every session after that, he kept a glass of water and some throat lozenges by his chair.”
“He is old school, Patricia, and Freudian. You presented him with a challenge, which I think is why he initially consulted with me. Once we talked, he came to the conclusion that I could handle your inclinations much more than he could.”
“No shit!”
“Let me ask you something?”
“And what would that be, Dr. Forrest?”
“What do you still want to do? I’ve arranged a sampling of scenes from your file, and added a few personal touches to keep you guessing. If we’re going to go on this way as a couple, I need to know what you want.”
“One thing has been missing that I wanted this week.”
“What did I miss?”
“An over-the-knee spanking. Did Dr. Richards record my tutor/schoolgirl fantasy?”
“In great detail. I think he liked that one. Do you want to do it?”
“Another time we can do the whole thing. Today, I just want it to be you.”
“Meaning?”
“Meaning…” Patricia stopped and took another sip of coffee. “Jesus, I can’t believe I’m actually going to say this.”
“Say it, Patricia. You’ve got to get used to talking to me about what you want, and what you are feeling. Whether or not we can make this work depends on it.”
“If you remember, in the fantasy, the tutor spanks the girl for being naughty, or for not having her homework finished, or for any number of other transgressions.”
“I remember very well.”
“If you read it, you know what happens.”
“Tricia, you’re talking around it. You’re still not telling me what you want.”
“All right. I’ll say it! Once you come back home, I want you to spank me when I get out of line. If I’m being a bitch, pull up my skirt, pull down my panties and wallop my ass!” Patricia closed her eyes and squeezed Marc’s hand. “If you play with my pussy while you spank me, and then fuck me, that would be even better.”
Marc guided Patricia’s hand to his lap. She felt his erection. “I think I can agree to that.”
“It feels like you’ve recovered from last night.”
“Have you?”
“Quite nicely, thank you.”
Marc stroked his hard-on with Patricia’s hand. “Have you been a naughty girl, Patricia?”
“I have been a very naughty girl, Dr. Forrest.”
“Do you think you should be disciplined for being naughty?”
“At least several times a week, here at the loft. If I’m being a very bad girl, I may need to be disciplined every night at home, before bed.”
“We will have to agree on some rules for being at home. Even if you don’t break any of them, there will need to be ongoing lessons in obedience. Is that understood?”
“Understood.” Marc moved his hand. Patricia continued to stroke his cock. He touched the lapel of her robe, and then let his hand rest on her breast. “When I saw this robe, I remembered the one you wore on our wedding night. It looked like this.”
“I still have it.”
“You do? I haven’t seen it in years.”
“I stored the robe and negligee with my wedding dress.”
“When I thought of our wedding night, and seeing you in that lingerie, I had to buy this. I’m glad you like it.”
“I do. I feel like we had our wedding night all over again last night.”
“In a peculiar way, I think we did.” Marc pulled the robe open, exposing her breasts. He cupped the soft flesh in his hand. “Christ, I love your tits. I always have.”
“It used to embarrass me whe
n you would stare at them. It doesn’t anymore.”
“Patricia, men like tits. It’s just the way it is.”
“Then you won’t mind if I want to wear the biker babe costume again? It was the first time I’ve ever gone out dressed like that. It turned me on to have men look at my chest.”
“We’ll wear those clothes when we go to Lenny’s.” Marc pinched her nipple. “Who’s your daddy?”
“You are.”
“And who decides the scene we’re playing?”
“You do.”
“Are you ready for some discipline, Patricia?”
“What do you want me to do?”
“I want you to tell me why I should spank you. How have you been a naughty girl?”
Patricia wanted to hit a nerve. “I liked it when Lenny fucked me. I want him to fuck me again.” She saw Marc’s jaw tighten. Bull’s-eye!
Marc’s demeanor changed. She could feel it. “Is that so? What else do you want Lenny to do?”
“When we go to his place, maybe he could join us in the dungeon and teach you more of his tricks.”
“I know plenty already, Tricia, enough to keep you happy for a good long while.” He grabbed her hand and pulled her to her feet. “Come here!”
She didn’t really walk to the sofa, Marc pulled her there. He sat down. “Take off your robe and lie across my lap.”
Making sure she stood directly in front of him, Patricia opened her robe and let it fall to the floor. Before she could lie across his lap, Marc stopped her. He opened his pants and unzipped his fly. After exposing his prick, he patted his lap. “Lie down, Tricia.”
She lay down on her belly across Marc’s lap, her breasts dangling over his leg. The rush of freedom she felt in that moment made her heady. Her exhilaration increased even more when Marc said, “Spread your legs wide open, Tricia. When I tell you to get naked and lie across my lap at home, you will always spread your legs wide apart so I can play with your pussy. Do you understand?”
“I will, I promise.”
“Good.” Anticipating the first swat, Patricia tensed. “Relax, sweetheart. You know this is for your own good.” Marc slapped her with the palm of his hand, the sting unexpectedly hard. She winced. Before the second smack came, he tickled her pussy lips. The surge of heat moved from her ass to her clitoris. “Do you like that, Tricia?”
“Yes, very much.”
“I’m going to teach you how to enjoy being spanked.” He slapped her ass again, and then rubbed her pussy. “It won’t be long before your libido makes the connection between being spanked and being turned on. Once I’m home, we will work on giving you an orgasm from just being spanked.”
Patricia could hardly believe this fantasy come true. Marc wanted to do this as much as she did. She whispered, “Thank you.”
“What did you say?”
“I said thank you.”
Marc pushed his cock into her side. “That’s good, Tricia, that’s very good. That shows a willingness to be disciplined.” He pushed two fingers into her cunt. “Thank me again and tell me why.”
She squirmed on his lap as he finger fucked her. “Thank you, Marc, for topping me. Thank you for disciplining me. And thank you for loving me.”
Marc slapped her ass again, this time not pausing to play with her pussy before the next smack. The sting from the slaps came so close together, she lost track of how many times he smacked her. She found the zone quickly this time, and relaxed into it. She lost herself in the sensation. When he reached under her and pinched her nipple, she jumped.
“Patricia, I told you to sit back on the sofa!”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t hear you. She obediently stood, and then sat down beside Marc. Marc knelt in front of her. “Spread your legs. I wanted to eat your pussy last night, and never did. I want to do it now.”
Patricia slid forward and opened her legs, her bare ass sinking into the leather sofa. Marc immediately put his hands on her inner thighs, opening her legs even wider. After spreading her pussy lips open with his fingers, he leaned forward and sucked her clit into his mouth.
“Fucking Christ, Marc, that’s good!”
He licked and sucked her clit avidly, even voraciously. She pushed against his face, wanting him to suck her harder. When she did, he bit her, the way a cat nips at the hand of a beloved owner when playing. It didn’t hurt, but the pressure of his teeth made her groan. He stopped and lifted his head. “Did I hurt you?”
“Fuck, no! It feels wonderful!”
Patricia remembered how much she wanted to hold him the night before and couldn’t. She sat up. “May I take off your shirt? I want to touch you.”
Marc’s smile gave her the answer she wanted. She leaned forward and unbuttoned his shirt. She rubbed his chest with both hands, and then slid her fingers through his hair. He kissed her arms, and then buried his face between her breasts. More than anything, she wanted him inside of her. She whispered into his ear, “Marc, please, let’s make love like we did on our wedding night.”
Marc stood. He took off his clothes, his naked body shining as the sunlight from the window streaked across the room. She lay down on the sofa, pulling her knees up to her chest, completely opening herself for his entry.
He mounted her, pushing his cock into her. He kissed her deeply, passionately, and then, again, consummated their marriage.
FIT TO BE TIED
LISA G. RILEY
Acknowledgments
Thanks to my mother, Gloris B. Riley (1938–2000), for always encouraging me. I love and miss you, Mom. Thanks to Dyanne Davis for always reading when I needed you to and for laughing and being silly with me. By the way, you might think that your love scenes aren’t all that steamy, but they are!
LGR
1
From beneath thick lashes, Chloe Johnson Carnegie trained her eyes on the man sitting next to her at the bar, and just as quickly took them off him again. He was still staring at her. Every time she did her little thing—played peekaboo—she found his intense brown eyes trained steadily on her. His bold, unflinching stare excited her beyond belief. And she knew that he knew it. She felt his eyes travel insolently and leisurely over her body for what could have easily been the tenth time in as many minutes, and suppressed a shiver when her nipples suddenly hardened and pushed against her bra. She had to stop herself from looking at him in dismay, while she prayed he didn’t notice the evidence of her arousal. What was he doing to her? She closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
This is ridiculous, she thought as she picked up the disgustingly sweet wine cooler and took a sip. Men have stared at you before. Pull yourself together. Normally, she would have glared a man down until he looked away, or if he were entirely too bold, a soft-spoken insult would send him on his way. But not tonight. Tonight was different. Tonight she was going to go buck wild and she’d promised herself that no matter how difficult it was, she’d do it.
“So what brings you to our neck of the woods?”
Startled, Chloe looked up to find the grizzled old bartender looking at her in question as he cleaned a glass. “Pardon?”
“If you’ll excuse me for saying so, miss, you don’t exactly look like the type of person who would come in here.”
“Oh. Umm.” Chloe quickly thought of a lie. “I just wanted to try it, that’s all. I mean, my office is just a couple of blocks from here and I’ve never been in. I just thought I’d stop by for a drink after work.”
“Well, what do you think of the place?”
Uncomfortable, Chloe tried to think of something nice to say about the bar. She heard a snicker to her right and turned to look at the man next to her. “I’m sorry, do I amuse you?”
The man took his time answering. He took a drink of his beer, put the bottle down on the bar, and turned to look at her. “Yep.”
“And why would that be?” Chloe’s back was up. She couldn’t stand to be laughed at, even if the man doing it was sexy and drop-dead gorgeous.
“Because you don�
��t belong here. You ordered white wine, which Clancy doesn’t stock. This is a beer-drinking crowd, lady. You don’t belong here any more than white wine does.”
Chloe looked him over disdainfully from his head to his scuffed boots. “Mind your own business.” The order was succinct. She ignored the man’s smirk and turned back to the bartender. She smiled at his laughter and asked, “Are you Clancy?”
“Yes, I am.”
“Well, Clancy,” she emphasized his name to make it clear that she was talking only to him, “Now that Mr. Know-it-All is minding his own business, I’d like to say that I think your place is perfect. Perfect for what I need right now.”
“Thank you, miss,” Clancy said with a smile. “Here, have some peanuts.” He pulled a large bag of peanuts and a bowl from beneath the bar. “Let me know if you need anything else,” he finished and, after topping off the bowl, he went down to the other end of the bar.
“Will do,” Chloe murmured. She sighed and for at least the fifth time, looked down at the man’s hands from the corner of her eye. She couldn’t help herself; the sexy masculinity of them demanded her attention again and again. The palms were wide and strong looking with ridges of calluses, and the fingers…God, the fingers! The long, thick bluntness of them almost made her weep from edgy excitement.
Her bottom lip went between her teeth in jealous anticipation when those fingers wiped away the condensation on his beer bottle. The moan that wanted to hurl itself between her lips was swallowed back as she imagined that each brush was a stroke against her needy, greedy flesh. The shiver, however, refused to be repressed this time and it flowed hard through her body. The slight movement sent her skin into hypersensitive overdrive as it brushed against her clothing, and she almost ran her own hands over her body just to find some relief from the torture.
When the man rubbed his fingers against the bottle one last time before gripping the long neck to lift it to his mouth, her breath caught on a loud sigh as she followed the bottle’s ascent. It came out in a deflating whoosh when he drank. Needing a drink herself now, she picked up her wine cooler and drained the bottle. She was so caught up in her own lust that she didn’t even realize that she had turned on her barstool so that she was completely facing him.
Bound to Ecstasy Page 18