Leather and Lace

by Landish, Lauren

  This is the first time I’ve taken initiative like this. I may tease and flirt, but it’s always Liam who moves us into this territory. But his eyes light up instantly, seeming to like me taking the lead for a change. “What did you have in mind, doll?”

  My usual mouthiness deserts me, so instead of answering, I simply drop to my knees before him. I look up through my lashes, not shy in the least, but seeking permission while refusing to ask. “You want to suck my cock? You think that’ll relax me?” That arrogant smirk is in his tone, though his lips don’t tilt. He cups my cheek, and I lean into the caress, my eyes slipping closed as my mouth drops open. He traces along my bottom lip, dipping his thumb into my mouth, and I instinctively close around it, sucking and licking at the pad. “Fuck, Arianna. Do it. Suck me.”

  My eyes pop open, and I reach forward to undo his brown leather belt, then his slacks. He yanks his shirt up to get it out of my way, and I have a moment of pause before I pull him out of his boxer briefs. I’ve felt him rubbing against my ass and grinding against my pussy as he’s teased me all week, so I know he’s big, thick, and hard. But this will be the first time I actually see his cock, and I’m excited at the anticipation of finally laying eyes on him. I pull the waistband of his boxer briefs down, and his cock surges out, rock-hard and throbbing. I take a moment, teasing a fingertip along the velvety skin as I learn him. “Fuck, Liam. You’re gorgeous.”

  “I taste even better,” he groans. I look up, and his eyes are pained, desperately needy. Glancing back down, I see a dribble of pre-cum running from the red head down his shaft.

  I realize with a start, “Have you been holding off like you said? Edging me all week and not taking any relief for yourself?” He reaches down and squeezes the base of his shaft and I know my answer. “I’m impressed, Mr. Blackstone,” I tease.

  “I am rather impressive,” he says, his voice gravelly and the bragging sounding more habitual than real.

  “We’ll see,” I say as I lean forward, letting my pink tongue stick out to lick along his length. I get my first taste of him, musky and sweet and delicious, making me want more. His hands grip the armrests so hard his knuckles are going white. So I lick up and down, catching every bit of pre-cum before sucking along his head to get more. His hips buck slightly, so I press against him, not remotely able to hold him, but he relents and sits still for my exploration.

  “Fuck, Ari . . . do that . . . suck the head again.” His hands move into my hair, and I let him guide me for a moment but realize that this is my moment. I’m doing this to him, and I want that power surge, that ability to drive him as wild as he’s been driving me all week. Though I plan on being kinder and actually letting him come. Maybe.

  The thought of edging him, evilly getting him to the brink and then pulling back like he’s done to me all week, is a wicked temptation. But when I get another mouthful of his sweet pre-cum, I know I don’t have the discipline he does. I want all of him.

  “Put your hands back on the armrests. Let me do this. Let me learn you, what you like,” I whisper.

  He lifts his head from the back of the chair, eyeing me, and I consider that he’s likely never given up any shred of control like this, always the predator, the dominant, the alpha. But for me, he does as I say, laying his hands back on the armrests and letting me lead.

  I feel like a boss. Like The Boss, able to bring this powerful beast of a man to his knees figuratively by being on my knees literally. And like a boss, I get to work, licking and sucking him into my mouth, sometimes just the head like he asked, but slowly learning how deep I can take him. Oh, so slowly, I get better, judging by the increasingly louder grunts and groans Liam is trying to keep quiet. He hits my throat, and I gag a bit, but his cock pulses in my mouth, impossibly harder, so I do it again and again, slowly breathing through my nose to take him deeper.

  It’s an odd combination of power through submission, probably for us both. His relinquishment of control and letting me decide how fast and how deep, while at the same time knowing he could shove down my throat and choke me on his cock before I could stop him. My submissive posture on the ground before him, but knowing that I’m the one shredding his every ounce of control.

  I find a new rhythm, taking Liam deeper in my mouth, sucking him fast and hard, and his abs clench under my hands. “Fuck, doll . . . I’m gonna come. Swallow it down. Swallow me.”

  A few more strokes, and his hot cum jets out as he grunts, probably loudly enough for Jacob to hear, but right now, I can’t care because this is sexier than I’d ever imagined. His hands shoot to my head, holding me deeply, my mouth filled with his cock and his cum. I swallow reflexively, over and over, taking him in as he shudders.

  I sit back on my heels, a satisfied smirk on my face. I just did that. I took the initiative to seduce him, took control and made him sit there like the nice boy he’s definitely not while I worked him, and took every drop of his cum. It’s quite the power trip.

  Liam looks surprised at the turn of events too, maybe even shocked at my forwardness. I like that I can keep him guessing, like I’m not a pawn he’s moving about on the chessboard but rather a queen in my own right, moving wherever the fuck I want to on the board.

  I get up, straightening my skirt and wiping at the corners of my mouth like the lady I am. “You look like the cat that got the cream,” Liam teases, a satisfied grin overtaking his face though his eyes are still a bit dreamy.

  I lift my eyebrows. “I did get the cream, Mr. Blackstone.”

  He growls at my usage of his name. “I want some fucking cream too, Arianna. My driver will pick you up at seven sharp. Pack a bag because you’re staying at my house this weekend.”

  I consider playing coy, letting him continue to chase me, because I haven’t exactly agreed to this weekend sleepover plan. But I know I’m reaching the end of my rope, and I suspect he is too. This back and forth we’ve been playing at has been fun, and already so very educational, but my resolve to wait is weakening, barely a sliver of a memory about why I decided that in the first place remaining.

  “Seven it is. I’ll be the one wearing . . . lace,” I say, getting one last tease in because I already know how much he loves the peekaboo effect of the flimsy fabric against my skin.

  I can hear the moan of desire rumble from his lips as I close the door behind me to head to my desk.

  Chapter 8

  Arianna

  “Oh, my God, Daisy. What the hell have I gotten myself into?” I screech into the phone.

  “Breathe, honey. You’re okay,” she says in a soothing voice. “Inhale. Exhale.”

  I do as she says, slowing my breathing. The quick ride home had found me feeling sassy and rather sure of myself. But when I started packing a weekend bag and digging through my lingerie drawer and considering whether I needed actual clothes or not, the nerves hit me and I’d called in reinforcements. “Am I really doing this? I’ve waited so long, decided ages ago to wait until I was getting married. Is it stupid to throw that away, give in to lust?”

  Daisy hums. “Why did you decide to wait?”

  Knowing I’d promised her this, I relent. “Ugh, it’s a long story, but I’ll try to give the quickie version. I went out with a guy in high school a few times. He was nice, we had fun, and I thought things were going really well. Then I found out he’d told the whole football team that he fucked me in the backseat of his car on our first date. Totally not true, obviously.” I sigh, the story difficult to tell but easier than I would’ve expected. I guess the time since then has lessened the pain to the point it almost feels like it happened to someone else, like I was someone else back then.

  “I told everyone he was lying, but they believed him over me. I think they saw a nice girl with curves that I didn’t know what to do with, and a popular jock guy, and well . . . they figured I’d put out and had morning-after regret. Anyway, after that, I became the joke of the school almost overnight. Other guys started saying that they’d screwed me too. I don’t know why they a
ll ganged up me, lying like that, but somewhere along the way, I figured out it’d be easier to claim it with pride than argue against a title they’d already decided fit me.”

  Daisy’s voice is quiet as she asks, “I’m guessing that title wasn’t homecoming queen?”

  “No, everyone was calling me a whore, a slut, easy. Shit like that. It hurt, especially considering at the time, I hadn’t even kissed a guy.” A sad laugh escapes my throat. “After that, though, I became much more aware of people’s relationships. I could tell who was having sex, who wasn’t, and I watched what happened when they took that step. I guess I just figured out that sex is a big deal. At least to me. And I told myself that I wasn’t going to do it casually. And now I’m scared I’m just tossing all that away because I’m horny.”

  “God, Ari. I’m so sorry that happened to you. That sounds awful. Can I tell you something though?” I murmur my agreement, and she continues but doesn’t say what I expect from my sweet, nerdy bestie. “Ari, listen to me and listen good . . . fuck those people who were mean. Don’t give them an ounce of power over the choices you make today or tomorrow. They already got yesterday’s. Fuck. Them.”

  “What?” I say, shocked at the fury in her voice.

  “Seriously, chica. Only you can decide if you want to have sex or not, but don’t let their whispers in your ear sway you one way or the other. Listen to your own heart and decide. You never made a moral, ethical, or even a conscious decision to wait. You made that choice out of hurt and fear because of asshole people who had nothing better to do than gossip about a little girl. You could’ve easily become what they said you were, but in your heart, you never did, even if you mouthed about it as a coping mechanism. Let me ask you this . . . does Liam make you feel things you’ve never felt before? Are you going to regret doing this or are you going to regret not doing this?”

  Her words are like a balm to the little girl in my soul who cried at the ugly words tossed so carelessly at her like bombs. Though those scars will likely always remain, I can feel at a visceral level that she’s right. It’s not that I’m throwing away my heart or my body on a meaningless fuck. It’s that I’m finally taking my own power, giving myself permission to enjoy my body without caring what others may or may not think about me afterward. Sex is a big deal, but it’s my big deal, and no one but me gets to choose when the time is right for me.

  And though it’s fast, I do feel something for Liam. It’s not love—it’s way too soon for that—but it’s not simple lust either. This is something I’ve never experienced before, some combination of happiness, respect, heat, and excitement. It’s both bright and bubbly and simultaneously dark and sultry.

  “I’d regret not doing this. I don’t know what this weekend holds, but I do want to find out. Maybe we have sex, maybe we just go a bit further than we have, but I want to take that leap, make those choices myself.” I smile, a heavy weight lifted from my shoulders. “Wow, Daisy. Thank you, girl. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

  She laughs. “That’s what besties are for. I do have one more question, though . . . what are you going to wear?”

  I flop back on the bed. “Oh, my God, I don’t know! My lingerie drawer is literally emptied out on the bed around me. I don’t have a fancy boudoir set like Liam is probably expecting, nor can I afford that. I also don’t have any slutty ‘fuck me’ gear. I told him lace because I was taunting him, but now I’m seriously considering running to the mall for something special.”

  Daisy clicks her tongue. “Ari, if he’s nitpicking your lingerie, tell him to fuck himself and get the hell outta there. Seriously. The man isn’t gonna care if you’re wearing your time-of-the-month granny panties and a T-shirt bra or a fancy set. And you probably don’t need the added pressure of some big to-do outfit. Wear something you have that makes you feel pretty and sexy. What do you have?”

  “Hang on . . . let me switch to FaceTime.” I click the buttons and suddenly, Daisy’s face fills my screen. Even through her big glasses, I can see the kindness in her eyes and my heart swells. I’m lucky to have her. “Thanks again, girl. Okay, here’s what I have . . .”

  Almost thirty minutes later, I’ve picked out a few lingerie sets from my stash, lacy, pretty matching things that make me feel good without seeming like I’m trying too hard to be something I’m not. I add a few silky shortie pajama sets, some soft lounge clothes, and one dress that will work for a casual brunch or a nicer dinner. And with that and some bathroom necessities, my weekend bag is packed.

  I’m ready.

  I think.

  Well, I’m definitely ready to be open to the experience, at least. I’ll take it moment by moment, with no pressure from Liam, my past, or myself to do or not do anything.

  * * *

  At seven on the dot, there’s a firm knock on my door. I open it to see an older man dressed in a black suit, a burgundy tie sharp against his white shirt. He inclines his head, tilting an invisible hat at me. “Ms. Hunnington? I’m Randolph, Mr. Blackstone’s driver, among other things.” There’s a slightly British lilt to his voice, making him seem charming and grandfatherly. He offers his hand, and I shake it, introducing myself too.

  “Other things?” I ask, not sure what he’s talking about.

  He smiles politely. “Driver, butler, house manager. I suspect you know Mr. Wilkes? He takes care of Mr. Blackstone’s professional life. I handle his personal affairs. He said you’re to go to his home. Correct?”

  “Yes, that’s right.”

  He takes my bag and escorts me down to the black Mercedes waiting at the curb. It’s sleek and sophisticated, all curves and class. Randolph opens the door, waiting for me to climb in, and then closes it firmly behind me.

  The ride is relatively quiet, just the purr of the powerful engine. I slide my hand along the leather seat, feeling the luxury of the buttery softness. I vaguely wonder if Liam appreciates the extravagance of this. He’s told me about his upbringing, definitely wealthier than mine by far, but rather than a silver spoon entitlement, he came out of it with a work ethic not many possess. But when you grow up with money, there’s an inherent expectation that goes with the experience. I hope that even when I’m a big-deal CEO, I still appreciate the special things, like a chauffeured ride in a fancy car. With a small smile, I make a mental promise to myself to eat some beefaroni at least once a month too.

  I’m not sure what to say to Randolph, who seems to be taking my lead on small-talk and stays silent. But I do notice him glancing back at me in the rearview mirror, and I consider that he’s probably done this before for Liam. Pick up a woman, take her to his place for the weekend, and repeat. The thought leaves me cold, but I can’t fault Liam for having a past if I don’t want him to fault me for mine.

  I realize that Randolph is trying to figure me out. I can almost feel his judgment . . . too young, too innocent, too much cleavage, too much . . . of a whore. His eyes stay perfectly neutral though, and I have a sudden insight that the whispers of my past and my own inner monologue are filling in gaps that don’t exist. Daisy is right. I am letting my past control my present and my future.

  And I’m not going to let the small-town assholes or a driver in my present decide for me. I decide who I am, what I am. And I say I’m a woman with a brain, a heart, and needs. And that’s okay, so they can fuck off. I sit up straighter and meet Randolph’s eyes in the mirror. He offers a small smile, and I feel like I passed his test, but ironically, it’s one that I don’t feel the need to care about because I passed my own, which is much more important.

  My mouth drops when we get to Liam’s estate. It’s beautiful, not a stuffy brick and stone testament to century-old dead men, but sleek and contemporary. Steel and glass dominate the whole structure, as if the architect was inspired by the pyramids outside the Louvre.

  “I’ve never seen anything like this,” I murmur as we pull up.

  Randolph smiles and nods. “This way, Ms. Hunnington.”

  He already has my bag in h
and as we approach the front doors. Randolph pushes a button and the gigantic glass front parts, awing me as I get a good look at the interior.

  Everything gleams. Rich, warm marble floors flow from room to room through open doorways. Somehow, there isn’t a column in sight, and I can see upward to the evening sky through the large skylight in the foyer. It feels like I’m not indoors at all, except that my heels click on the floors as Randolph leads me through the entry area and deeper into the house. I have to stop, though, as we go down a hallway, pausing in utter astonishment. “Is that . . . a pool?”

  Randolph stops, nodding.

  I shake my head, amazed. I’ve heard of infinity pools before, but I’ve never actually seen one in person. Liam’s pool goes right to the edge of a huge drop-off, almost like it’s about to join the sky before the view opens up to an enormous valley thick with pines and other trees. “I’ve never seen this part of town before. It’s beautiful.”

  “That land is actually state forest, so there is no chance of it ever being cut down. Makes for a rather spectacular view,” Randolph says. “This way, please. I’ll show you around.”

  “Where’s Liam? I don’t mind the tour, but I thought he’d be here?”

  “Mr. Blackstone asked that I give you this.” He hands me a sealed envelope, the paper rich and creamy. I recognize it from the stationary set on his desk. It’s scented faintly of Liam as I open the seal and take out the folded piece of paper inside. It’s his handwriting, and my pulse quickens as I read the simple message written on it.