by Measha Stone
She stepped off the stool and moved to a cleared area of the kitchen. Slowly she pulled her blouse over her head and slipped her bra off her body. The cool air of the room drew her nipples to attention, but she did her best to ignore it. His eyes were on her, watching every move she made. With as much grace as she could muster, she unbuttoned her slacks and pushed them down her hips, pushing them to the side with her foot. Hooking her thumbs into the thin straps of her panties, she pulled them down and placed them with the rest of her clothing.
She chanced a glance at him. He sat with his arms over his chest, watching with an almost bored expression. Her actions got her into the mess, she couldn't blame him for not being thrilled about it. Trying to do her best, she moved down to her knees and placed her hands on the cold tile of the floor. She pushed herself forward until her breasts touched the ground, and her forehead rested on the floor. Arms out to her sides, she crossed her feet at the ankles. Hoping she had managed the "T" look he had taught her she began her apology.
"I'm sorry, sir."
"For what?" His voice felt distant, rooms away even though she knew he was only a few feet from where she lay.
"I'm sorry for not responding quickly to your messages yesterday, and for not being home this evening without telling you what time to expect me." She closed her eyes, no need to stare at the white tile beneath her. The coolness of the floor did help to alleviate some of the flush of her cheeks. "And I'm sorry I wasn't here to cook your dinner."
The grating sound of the stool scraping against the floor as he moved echoed in the room. Heart racing, she felt a desperate need to see him, to know he was still in the room. He didn't leave her waiting, his fingertips touched the top of her head.
"You cut your hair." A few strands were lifted, she imagined him wrapping it around his finger.
"Yes, sir." Would he be upset she hadn't asked permission? Was she supposed to?
"It's curly now." He dropped the lock of hair and moved lower down her body, his fingers sending chills down her back as he made his way down her torso.
"Because it's short." Did he not like it? The weight of her hair had kept the natural curls at bay, leaving only waves. Now without the weight to drag the curls down, she sported a head full of soft curls.
"Mm hm." His hand rested on her ass check, not moving. "As much as I love your cooking, I don't expect you to cook every meal. You have a life and a job. I do, however, expect an answer when I ask you if you'll be home. And if you are held up, I expect to know." His fingers curled into her flesh, his nails bit into her flesh, but she managed to keep silent. "Now, what kept you away yesterday?" He went back to smoothing his hand over her ass, rubbing away the burn his nails left behind.
Yesterday. "I told you, I was tired."
"I know that." He gave her ass a warning slap. "I want to know why. What happened?"
She took a steadying breath. Could she tell him? She didn't have the energy to go into everything that had happened, and if she told him Jonathan had been at the house and about the pictures, he'd want more information. He wouldn't let her take care of it all herself.
"Erin." His nails dug into her again. "If you are trying to figure out what to tell me and what not to tell me, let me clear up the situation for you: tell me everything. We don't keep secrets from each other. Ever. And you don't fucking lie to me." He dragged his hand over her ass, scratching her with his nails. She wiggled, and he gave her half a dozen hard smacks to her thighs.
"Okay!" She took several deep breaths, keeping herself in position while he began to run his fingers over her ass again. "When I stopped back at the house Jonathan showed up. He wants to put the house on the market right now. We argued, but he's giving me a few more days."
"Do you want to sell it?"
"I don't know." She wanted to turn around, to see his eyes, to feel his arms around her. Not stare at the damn floor while having the conversation. "Can I turn over now?"
"No." He stepped over her, and she could feel him near her, hovering over her. "What else happened?" His hands gripped her hair and yanked her head back. His face was only a mere inch from hers, blue eyes focused on hers. "Be a good girl and tell me everything, and you'll be rewarded. Be a bad girl and keep your secrets, and you'll be used and put to bed hungry for more than just your dinner."
She closed her eyes, but only briefly then took a deep breath. "I got a letter. Pictures of us from the auction."
"What?" His eyes narrowed. "Someone had pictures?"
"Yes, of us leaving the club." She swallowed hard. "I didn't know if I should tell you, or what to do. Another one showed up at work today."
"At work?" He sounded pissed. "What did you do? Did you see who brought it?" Her scalp burned from his grip, but she continued to answer his questions.
"No, Brenda said it some kid dropped it at security downstairs."
"What did you do then?"
Knowing he was going to hate her answer, she forged ahead anyway. "I took the rest of the afternoon off. I went and got my haircut, and had a massage. It all took longer than I thought it would, that's why I'm late."
A darkness entered his gaze. Not of arousal. "Get me the letters." He released her hair with a little shove and stepped away from her. She managed to get to her feet and to her purse without tripping. Her hands shook as she handed the two envelopes she had shoved into her purse over to him.
He glared at her while opening them and pulling out the contents. When he walked away to read the letters she folded her arms over her stomach. "Were you going to tell me about these, or is just because you missed dinner that you found yourself in this position?" He didn't look at her when he asked his question. Maybe he was too angry look at her, maybe he'd toss her out.
"I was going to tell you. Just as soon as I figured out what to do."
He was at her side in seconds. "Figured out what to do?" His voice hadn't raised, but it still sent shivers through her. "What did you think you were going to do? Were you thinking…"
"No!" She turned to face him. "I wasn't going to get the file." No matter what he thought, she couldn't let him think that.
"I didn't think that. There is no such file on any computer." He chastised her. "Were you thinking to find this guy on your own is what I was going to ask you."
"Oh." She looked away, over his shoulder. The summer sun still hadn't set, and she could see clearly into the yard. "I'm sorry."
"Yeah. Seems to be the theme for tonight."
She brought her gaze to his and took a long breath. "It would seem so." She pushed her shoulders back and dropped her hands to her sides. He had every right to be upset with her. Those envelopes involved him, and being honest, she wasn't sure if she would have told him at all if she hadn't found herself face down on his kitchen floor.
"Does your building have security camera's outside?"
"Probably. But Charlie said it was a kid."
"The guy probably just stopped him on the street and offered him a couple bucks to deliver it to your building. There might be something on the tapes. I'll call Kendrick later and ask him to see what he can do."
"Why would someone want your portfolio, I mean I know why, but why go through me? And why is he dragging it all out?" He seemed okay with talking about the situation at hand and not her prior actions, and she was going to take full advantage of that.
"I don't know. But I don't want you involved. If you get another one of these, you give it to me right away." His tone didn't suggest he wanted an open dialogue about it, either.
"The first one was mailed to my house," she whispered. "How could he know where I live? Who I am? If you do something, he'll send those photos out."
Bradley flipped through the photos. "No, he won't. He won't know I'm involved. Now, about Jonathan."
"Ugh. I don't want to talk about him." She wanted him gone from her life and her memories. She sure as hell didn't want him to be a topic for discussion with Bradley.
"Kneel," he snapped at her. When she didn'
t move quickly enough, he grabbed her hair again, and pushed her to her knees. Her hands gripped each other behind her back, and she kept her eyes on him. It wasn't the time to struggle or to question him.
"When I ask you a question you fucking answer. When I bring up a topic, you don't shoot it down. Do you understand that?" His voice was back to being hard, icy. When she first heard that tone with him, she confused it with something darker, something close to disgust, but she learned quickly enough it was his way of bringing her attention straight to the forefront. To get her to focus only on him and what he said to her.
"Yes, sir," she answered quickly. His forehead pressed against her cheek. She could smell the pizza on his breath, feel the heat of his skin on her.
"Jonathan." He clipped. "I do not want you alone with him again. If you need to go to the house, I'll take you. If he wants to meet about the sale of the house, I'll go with you."
"I can handle him on my own." She shouldn't argue, she knew it, but she wouldn't have him taking care of every detail of her life either. She was more than capable of being an adult all on her own. Besides, what would she do when the week ended and she was without him.
"I know you can. That's not the issue. The issue is he's an asshole, and I don't want him to have the chance to hurt you. You get frazzled and then do stupid things, like hide things from me."
"That had nothing…" Her words were cut off by his hand slapping over her mouth.
"I said you are not to be alone with him again. We don't know for sure that he's not the one sending these letters. He could be working with someone that knows me, knows you. You said yourself he kept documents at his home office, things he didn't need to." She began to talk but he shut her off again by pushing his hand harder against her mouth. "Nod if you understand, Erin."
Her head moved up and down. She took deep breaths through her nose, watching his expression harden. He wasn't done with her. Things weren't going to be pleasant for her any time soon. "You are not to do anything about these letters other than what I tell you. Do you understand?" Again she nodded, his fingers pushed her lips against her teeth, and she grimaced. "You and I need to have a talk, but we'll do it later. When I'm more concerned about your answers, and when you can fucking breathe enough to give them."
Anyone else and she would have been terrified. He yanked her to her feet and walked her down the hall toward the stairs leading to his room. She heard movement in the living room and realized George had come into the house. Bradley ignored him, and she did her best to do the same while he marched her up the stairs, one hand still covering her mouth and the other in her hair.
Once in his room, he pushed her to her knees, beside the bed. "I'm going to uncover your mouth, and you are going speak only when I give you permission. You aren't going to do a damn thing that I don't give you permission for, do you understand?"
She nodded again, and took a deep gulping breath when his hand moved. Her tongue ran along her lips. She watched from the corner of her eye as he went into his closet. In his hand he held a flogger, and a cane. Her eyes stuck to the cane.
"You said you were sorry for being disrespectful and secretive." He laid the cane on the bed, and draped the flogger over his shoulder. The anger was out of his voice, and she could see his arousal pressing against his jeans. This wasn't about punishment, this was about atonement, and she would willing take what he gave her, every sensation he brought her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Erin knelt beside his bed, her hands held behind her back, chest out, erect nipples pointed at him. Those letters made his nerves shake. Someone was using her to get to him. They'd threatened her. And there was no way he was going to let anything happen to his girl. His girl.
She thought she was going to come up with a plan to protect him from whoever was reaching out to her. His little pet wanted to protect him. A new concept for him. His girl seeking to protect him as much as he wanted to protect her. This woman was turning his world inside out.
When she hadn't come home the night before and then was absent for dinner, he began to worry he'd pushed too hard, too fast. That she doubted her decision to give him a week. But when she walked in, looking so damn hot in her new hairstyle, he just about jumped up in the air with a fist pump. She'd apologized, wanting to set things right with him. She wasn't suffering from cold feet or remorse. She was trying to figure out how best to protect him.
Now he needed her. He needed to touch her, to mark her, to make her cry and beg and writhe beneath him. The look in her eyes told him she needed it, too.
"Yes, sir." Her answer given so softly yanked him from his thoughts. He'd asked a question, right. Her apology.
"You are going to make up for it, right? You're going to be my good girl tonight? Do what I want, when I want, how I want, without complaint?" He yanked off his shirt and tossed it across the room. She responded much better to him when she could see his muscles working as he was swinging the flogger.
"Yes, sir."
"If you hide your eyes, if you disobey even the smallest command, we will have a problem. And if we have a problem what happens?"
"I get disciplined."
He nearly groaned at the sound of her response. Her large pupils told him all about how hot she was for him at the moment. It wasn't redemption she sought. No. She wanted to please him, to give him everything he could take from her. She got off on obedience, on serving him. He could use her body, find his own fulfillment, leaving her wanting for an orgasm that wouldn't come, and she'd be just as content as if he'd fucked her to orgasm two or more times. How the hell had he gotten so lucky to find this woman?
"That's right, pet." He shoved the handle of the flogger between her teeth. "Hold that while I get my rope." He smiled at the widening of her eyes when he mentioned the rope. She'd taken so well to it before. He couldn't wait to work with her again. The idea of being tied down both excited and worried her, and he loved to play with those feelings.
He pulled her up onto the bed, pushing her on her back and began to position her how he wanted. She never dropped the flogger, not when he pulled her right leg straight up and tied it to the bed post, or when he began wrapping the rope around her other ankle, again and again, lining the rows of hemp up perfectly and then securing it to the opposite bed post, keeping her completely open and on the edge of the bed. She wouldn't be able to close her legs.
"Put your hands over your head." He grabbed her wrists, securing them together before tying the rope to his headboard. "There" he hopped off the bed. "You can't move at all, can you? Nod your head, pet. You don't need your mouth yet."
She tugged at the wrist restraints, tried to bend her leg, pull her leg down from the post, nothing. Her eyes begged him, but he wasn't in an accommodating mood. "You remember your safewords?" She nodded. "Good. Now, open your fucking mouth and give me my flogger."
He gripped the handle and looked harder at her. "You got it all wet." She was silent, but gave him a look that made him laugh. He wiped the handle on her thigh, then replaced the handle with a hard slap to her inner thigh. She cried out then, trying again to move her leg. "Can't move, remember?" He gave her another slap, and she yelled. "Oh, are you tender here?" He pushed his nails into her skin, close to her groin and dragged across her thigh, to her knee, slowly and with as much force as he could without breaking her skin. Her squeal made his dick even harder, if that were possible. "I guess you are." He gave her a wink.
She wanted to smart mouth him. He could see it. Each time they played she got closer to mouthing off, closer to giving him back some of the attitude he gave her. "Go on, say something."
"No, sir." She sucked in her lower lip and shook her head.
"No? Because you look like you want to say something. Maybe tell me to fuck off?" He leaned over her, putting his face directly in front of hers.
"Never, sir." No matter what he gave her, she wouldn't tell him to fuck off.
"Well, then." He reached down, easily finding her pussy and began to rub h
er clit. Immediately she closed her eyes and tried to move toward him. "Can't move, remember?" He grinned. "Open those eyes." He pulled his hand back and slapped her clit hard until her eyes snapped open. "Don't make me tell you again, pet. You know you don't get to hide from me."
"Yes, sir. I'm sorry, sir."
"Mm Hm." He went back to rubbing her pussy, the tips of his fingers pinching and flicking her clit. He watched her watching him and could see the strain in her face. "Oh, does that feel really good?"
"Yes, sir," she yelled out into the room.
"If I keep doing this, you'll come?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Well, then I should stop." He took his hand away and grinned down at her when she grunted in frustration. "Not yet, pet. You'll come when I say." He stepped back and ran the falls of the flogger through his hand, feeling the leather slide through his fingers.
She watched him, waiting for the first swat. When the tips of the falls landed on her pussy she screamed, and tried to move away. He didn't remind her of her predicament, he simply continued. He brought it down on her thighs, her ass, her pussy. Every inch of her that was displayed before him slowly began to turn pink beneath the flogger.
She cried out beautifully with each strike, but no complaints, just musical reactions to the pain he delivered. After a dozen or so, he stopped and stroked her pussy some more. Brought her to the edge of her orgasm, watched her eyes dilate further, felt the juices run from her entrance and onto his fingers, and just when she was about to jump over the edge, he pulled back and brought the flogger down again.
When he was happy with the coloring of her ass and legs, he moved around the bed and began to beat on her tits. He loved the way they bounced when the flogger flicked across them. She turned her head away, avoiding looking at the falls as they landed on her breasts again. He'd never hit her face, but he couldn't fault her for fearing it. He was close, the flogger landed on her chest. "Look at me." She turned her head to face him again. "Good. Have you had enough?"