Games We Play

by Cynthia Dane

  An intoxicating lump went down Leah’s throat. “What if those demands happen to align? Wouldn’t you want to know that?” She held her bag closer to her chest. “Wouldn’t that take away some of the awkwardness?”

  “Who are you? My therapist?” Sloan’s laughter was anything but infectious. “Jesus. The way you look at me is so weird.”

  “Is it?” Leah wasn’t aware that she looked at Sloan with anything but curiosity. “I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” She sucked in a deep breath for courage. Sloan had to power to turn Leah into a different person. Where was that stranger now? The one with the bravery and desire to see a dream come true? “Honestly, Ms. Sloan, I came here because you intrigue me. After what happened Saturday night, whether you thought I was the girl you hired or not, I felt that it was kinda like fate, you know? Because I’ve never met a woman like you before. I don’t only mean the way you look or the kind of car you own. I mean how you make me feel.”

  “That’s one way to tell me I have some skills.”

  “I meant beyond whatever you can do with your fingers.” Although those helped. “You have an energy to you that I am extremely attracted to.”

  There it was. Leah had said it. Now it was up to Sloan to do with that as she willed.

  “Energy, huh? Usually it puts people off.”

  “Everyone is different, right? Some people must be into it.”

  “Like I said, everyone is full of shit.”

  “If I were spewing shit, I would say that it didn’t matter what kind of woman you were. Because that’s a lie. I care about the kind of woman you are when we’re alone. You know why?”

  Sighing, Sloan turned her back and looked as if Leah had tried her last bit of nerves. “Because you don’t want to be murdered?”

  Well, yeah, but that’s not my point. “Because I don’t want to waste my time, either.”

  Sloan slowly craned her head over her shoulder again. “What was that?”

  “You don’t want to waste time. I don’t want to waste time. It’s the twenty-first century, and we now have the luxury of knowing what people are into and what they like before we meet in person. The reason I went along with what we did Saturday night wasn’t because I was desperate, or scared, or because I was trying to prove something to someone.” Leah leaped up from her chair. “It was because it was fucking hot!”

  Was that a smirk on Sloan’s face? “Try not to sound too good to be true. I’ve been burned before. I’d rather not get my hopes up.”

  “What? That I’m the kind of woman who might be into what you’re offering?”

  The cheeky sound coming from Sloan’s throat had the power to awaken the snake slumbering in Leah’s stomach. “Let’s stop dodging the soul of what we’re talking about. Let’s come out and say what we mean.”

  Leah waited.

  “What? You want me to say it first? You’re the one acting feisty and like you can’t wait for me to spank some common sense back into you.”

  Sp… spank me? Leah’s eyes were so wide that they glazed over. Before they could get too dry, though, Sloan bent down and lightly touched the tip of Leah’s nose. Her breath was hot against Leah’s upper lip.

  “Know what I want?”

  Leah shook her head.

  Sloan stood back up, fingers pressed against her mouth and chest firing off one breath after another. “I want you in my bed. Naked. I’m thinking handcuffed and apologizing for foiling my day so badly. I was going to spend my evening reading a good book in the bath, you know. Now I’ll have to make sure you’re really sorry about crashing into my life like you have.”

  Leah could barely contain the words begging to burst from her throat.

  “See? Everyone has their demands.”

  “I only have one.” Leah slammed her bag into the chair. “You gotta be naked too.”

  Chapter 7

  “Shall we play a game?”

  Sloan wasn’t nearly naked enough. Neither was Leah, but at least her pants were gone and her bra unhooked beneath her shirt. If I had known I was getting laid by a dominatrix tonight, I would’ve worn something cuter to work. The back of a bakery was not a place for cute dresses, though. It was the pit of old trousers and good enough blouses that she didn’t care about.

  A billion-dollar businesswoman held no qualms about pinning her down to a comfortable king-sized bed and straddling her ass, though.

  “What kind of game,” Leah asked.

  “A game where you end up deserving whatever I give you.”

  Soft fingers caressed the top of Leah’s ass. I would’ve worn cuter underwear, too. At least this pair didn’t have any holes or stray pieces of elastic sticking out of them, though. Only a simple pair of light pink cotton drawers that hugged Leah’s ample ass and grew more scared every time Sloan tugged at their seams. Or at least that was the only way to describe the wedgie getting the best of her every few seconds. “I think we’re both women who believe in the power of hard work and getting our just desserts from it.”

  “First thing you learn in my line of business, Leah, is that nothing is handed to you. Not even nepotism can save your ass if you destroy your company and anger the people working for you. So, forgive me if I believe in making my sexual partners work for their desserts.”

  “I know all about work and getting what you deserve.”

  “I bet you do. Which is why right now I think you deserve a nice spanking for screwing up my dreary Portland Monday.” She gave Leah the lightest tap on top of her ass. “Or do you like it harder than that?”

  Sloan spoke as if Leah had no idea what she was capable of. On the contrary, Leah knew. She knew how deep this kind of depravation could go. She also wasn’t afraid to embrace it – if riled up enough. Taps on the ass were nothing. All they did was incite her. They made her nipples tingle and her thighs wet. Sloan could be the most unattractive woman Leah had ever come across, but if she spanked her right? They would be married that time next year.

  Rein it in, dumbass. Leah may be having the night of her life, but she still needed to practice some decorum. Sloan wanted to play a game. A game that would undoubtedly turn Leah into a slobbering slave. And, hopefully, Sloan as well.

  “I think I need to earn a harder spank than that, Ms. Sloan.”

  “Sloan is fine.” She gave Leah a harder tap. “Are you sorry that you fucked up my afternoon, Leah?”

  Fingertips touched the bottom of Leah’s chin. Her head was tilted up, her eyes open and drinking in the sweet shadows dancing on the hotel suite ceiling. Sloan’s other hand was so close to touching Leah’s pussy again that she might as well have gone for it. I haven’t earned it yet, though. There were many things Leah needed to earn before she could have them. That lesson sank in years ago.

  What if this woman could help me earn them?

  It was something Leah had always wanted, but never thought she would have. The world of BDSM – particularly the bondage and dom-sub parts – always appealed to her, but she kept most of those fantasies to herself. They weren’t acceptable to talk about anymore, or at least not in her social circles – not even in a supposedly kink-friendly city like Portland. Yet she also harbored no real hopes that she would meet a woman willing to do it with her. Leah could take out dating site ads explaining how much she wanted a dominant woman in her life, but it would end with crickets at best, creepy losers flooding her inbox at worst.

  Now was her chance to flourish. Maybe her only chance for the rest of her life.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, drumming up as much conviction as she could in such simple words. “It was an accident, but…”

  The snap! of Sloan’s hand offered a sting that made Leah swallow her words. “No excuses, Leah.” Her name was always spoken with a monotone quality that insinuated Leah could have any name – while at the same time being the only woman in the world with the name Leah. “You’re either sorry or you’re not. I don’t need to hear reasonings or excuses.”

  “I’m sorry.”


  A pause commenced. Leah worried that she had done it wrong. Now I’m sorry for being such a novice at this…

  Her brain erased those thoughts when she received a hard spank. Erased because it was too busy processing the sensation of Sloan’s skin against hers.

  It hurt. In all the most exciting ways.

  Spanking was the limit Leah could handle, and it better stay on her ass. And it better turn her on. Did spanking a woman’s ass make Sloan feel good? A power trip to further boost her ego? Or was it something she did because she thought Leah needed it the most?

  “Do you like how that feels, Leah?” Sloan’s breath was so hot on Leah’s ear that she almost combusted. “Or do you need me to take it down a notch?”

  Leah fisted the pillow beneath her head. “I like it.”

  “Let me rephrase that… do you love it?”

  “Yes!”

  “Say you’re sorry again.”

  Flesh tingled. Was it from the spank she already got, or was it from the burning anticipation waiting to ignite her?

  “I’m sorry, Sloan.”

  She braced herself. Nothing came.

  Then, the moment she relaxed her body and assumed nothing was on the way? Smack!

  She cried out in both shock and excited ecstasy. Sloan hopped off the bed, leaving Leah to wiggle against the covers and bury another cry of desire into the depths of goose-down pillows.

  “You move around too much,” Sloan said with a sigh. “Good thing I know you love the handcuffs. Should’ve brought something to tie those ankles together with, though. Sorry!” Her voice came from across the suite now. Leah remained on the bed, catching her breath and enjoying the warmth spreading through her tender flesh. “Had I known someone as fun as you was in this town, I would’ve brought my trunk full of goodies.”

  Trunk full of goodies? She was being facetious, right? Then again, Sloan was rich enough to have a collection of the nicest toys and implements to make any girl happy. Why couldn’t she live here? Why couldn’t her supposed trunk of goodies be in this town? Sloan was rich! Why not hop in her plane right now and go to her place in Chicago?

  The silver handcuffs landed beside Leah’s head. “We make do with what we have, though. Sit up.”

  Leah didn’t consider how much her ass would appreciate not having the rest of her weight slam upon it. Yet that’s what she did when she was so quick to obey a firm command like that. She rolled onto her side and instantly regretted it.

  “Careful.” Sloan sat on the edge of the bed. “Two spanks, and you’ve got the rosiest red ass in town. Don’t have much resistance, do you?”

  Leah pushed herself up on her knees but kept her ass far away from her ankles. Don’t sit on your ass! She hadn’t told herself that since she cracked her tailbone in sixth grade PE. “Might need some more. Never know.”

  She lived for that smirk of indulgence on Sloan’s face. “Think you’re good for now. There’s that fine line between pleasure and pain.” She gestured to Leah’s top. “Take it off, hm?”

  Maybe it hadn’t been a bad thing wearing that shirt to work that day. Because the thing was baggy enough to come off in one motion. No wiggling out of tight clothing. No shimmying out of layers. Her bra had been unhooked the moment she got on Sloan’s bed. The only thing keeping Sloan from seeing those same tits from Saturday night was how quickly Leah could make it happen.

  Two seconds. That’s how long it took for her shirt to hit the floor. Her bra fell off her chest shortly after.

  “Damn.” Sloan picked up and dangled the handcuffs from her fingers. Her eyes wandered up and down Leah’s naked form. “You’re really hot when your hair doesn’t look like it’s been growing wild for five years.”

  She thinks I’m hot? Leah, who was one of the first women in the locker room to start covering her breasts with her arms and huddle in the corner, now puffed out her chest so Sloan could get a greater gander. “Your hair is, um…” Leah couldn’t put her finger on it. She almost wanted to tell Sloan that her hair was lopsided.

  “Right. This thing is driving me nuts.” To Leah’s great surprise, Sloan ripped off her hair and tossed it onto the nightstand. A bald head sporting very fine fuzz replaced the blond strands Leah had come to associate with Margaret Sloan. “What? Never seen a woman wear a wig before? Thought you could tell.”

  “No… I mean… I’m surprised.”

  “Don’t tell me you only screw blondes.”

  Leah didn’t know what to do besides laugh. “I’m usually the one wishing I was blond.” When her laughter died down, she continued, “Why… I mean, don’t get me wrong, but… why are you wearing…”

  “A wig?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Because life is easier when you shave off your hair.”

  Leah figured there was more to it than that, but didn’t say anything. She was too enamored with the new look looming over her. Without the bangs to frame her face, Sloan had revealed high cheekbones and two diamond studs in each ear. Her dark makeup was somehow more striking with little dark hairs growing on her scalp.

  She was still Margaret Sloan. The same energy. The same cheeky grin. The same tension brewing between them.

  The fact she did this to her appearance only appealed to Leah more. This woman was such an anomaly that Leah imagined she could peel one layer away after another, and still not find the core that lurked deep within Sloan’s heart.

  Was that more frightening or desirous? For a relationship, that could be frightening. For a night? Hot.

  “Look at you.” Sloan ended the infuriating silence by easing Leah back down onto the bed and bearing down upon her. “You’ve got this body begging me to do whatever I want to it.”

  Leah’s wrists touched the headboard. “You know what a safe word is, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. You pick out the safe word, since you’re the one being handcuffed.”

  Indeed, she was. Leah’s wrists were now attached to the headboard, and the only give she had come from the bend in her arms. “Apples?”

  “You know, your ass kinda looked like an apple before you turned over. Sounds apt.”

  Leah grinned. “As long as you’re not saying that I’m apple-bottomed.”

  “I would never. Now, what am I going to do with you?”

  “I thought we were playing a game.”

  “Oh, we are.”

  Leah loved games. Especially if she was winning.

  How could she not assume she was winning this game when a hot, domineering woman straddled her naked waist and shared her heat with her? Sloan was gorgeous. Even when she took off that blouse and sat in nothing but her tailor-made pants and a black bra that looked like it was made in Italy. Not that Leah knew what an Italian bra looked like. Decadent. Soft. Too good for my greasy fingers to touch.

  She wanted to touch them, though. Those breasts. Sloan’s were ample enough to look great for grabbing, but Leah was handcuffed to a bed and not touching any breasts – not even her own – anytime soon.

  Instead, she was the one being touched. Sometimes for eternity.

  Everything Sloan did was for their mutual gratification. A nibble to a nipple and a hot breath against thighs was both a rush for her senses and a taste of heaven to inexperienced Leah. I know what sexual pleasure is. But this is insane. Not as insane as when Sloan ripped off her lover’s underwear and dove between her thighs.

  Those thighs were what made Leah the most self-conscious. They were thick enough to burn through her jeans on a yearly basis, and if men stared at her, it was usually at crotch-level. Not even her breasts could counteract what her sister once called “thicc,” with two cs instead of a damned k. Leah was too old to know what it meant at first listen. It took a colorful explanation from her teenaged sister to get the point across. After that? Leah couldn’t look at her naked thighs in the shower or in a mirror and not worry that she was doomed to a life of fetishists and deal breakers.

  So, it was rather surprising that Slo
an looked right at home with her face between Leah’s thighs – and her tongue was more at home tasting Leah’s slit.

  Maddening. That was Leah’s experience on the other end of Sloan’s tongue. The woman knew her way around a vulva, and wasn’t afraid to tease it with the tip of her tongue and the tips of her two front teeth. The worst was having that tongue snake as deep as it could go in Leah’s body and feel that upper lip tease her eager clit. Although Sloan did not hold back on pleasure, she never, ever delivered on what could become the main event. Leah writhed against her lover’s face, but she couldn’t come on that alone. She needed more. Sloan knew that. This was the most deliberate game Leah had ever experienced in the bedroom.

  Tease, tease, tease. That’s all Sloan did, and the mischievous glint in her eyes as she looked up from Leah’s pelvis said she would damn well like it.

  She would want something in return before giving Leah what she really wanted. This wasn’t her birthday anymore. This wasn’t a hot ten minutes of finger fucking before leaving. This would be drawn out until they were too worn to continue. Assuming Leah could handle that.

  Damn hell like I can’t! She would show Sloan. She would tear down her insecurities and make sure this was the best fucking night of their lives!

  …Even if she was the one currently handcuffed to a bed and squirming like the submissive creature Sloan would one day affectionately call her.

  ***

  This was fun. Too much fun. Such dangerous fun that Sloan didn’t allow herself to usually have for many reasons.

  Contrary to what some people might say about her, she did enjoy bringing pleasure to and giving other women what they wanted. Hearing – and feeling – a woman climax because Sloan did her job well? That was one of the most gratifying feelings in the world. Almost better than achieving her own pleasure.

  Because most of her pleasure happened in her brain. As good as it felt for her body to contract and writhe in genuine orgasm, it was better to have that sensation of “I did that. I made this woman turn into a feral animal,” settle over her. That was the trophy she could carry with her for a few weeks if she really did it right.