Frustratingly, Gina had seen him naked and the sight of him in those pants and the comforting deep blue shirt with its peek of muscle and skin had made her wet the second she stepped out of the bathroom to find him waiting for her. Every second in his presence since then had just increased the flood of moisture soaking through her panties and making her skin shiny with perspiration.
Austin leaned in to whisper in her ear. "An impressive turn out from an investment perspective, wouldn't you say?"
Amusement laced his voice—as if he were intentionally pointing out to her that she had lost all perspective on his phony reason for bringing her there.
Chewing at the inside of her bottom lip, Gina sat a little straighter. She would show him before the night was through that he couldn't manipulate her like this. It didn't matter that parts of her throbbed with the need to fuck him. She was more than the sum of those bits. She had a brain and an upbringing far better in terms of responsibility and respectable behavior than the poverty she had been raised in might otherwise indicate. She was no one's plaything even if her pussy ached to join Austin's game.
Feeling his hand on her shoulder, she arched her back and placed an elbow against his ribs as a warning not to close the space between them. He had introduced her as his legal counsel to the Kehoe brothers. That was wrong—she would not be an attorney until after she took the bar exam and was sworn in. But if he wanted to present her that way, then he would damn well keep his hands off her.
Ignoring her subtle admonition, he stroked one finger lightly against the curve of her neck as the lights were lowered to the point that the figures around them were more shadows than people. A slow, sensuous music began to play while a pale blue light weaved sensuously along the center aisle.
Gina turned her head and saw one of the Kehoe brothers—Jake if she remembered correctly—lead a hooded and robed figure toward the stage. Her chest constricted as she took in the rounded form that could only belong to the woman hanging on Jake's arm when Austin had briefly introduced Gina to the Kehoe brothers that afternoon.
Alexa, the plus-size redhead, had surprised Gina. Not just with her size, but with the flash of tattoos that could be glimpsed when her sleeve rode up and the collar of her dress shifted as she shook Gina's hand. As undeniably beautiful as the woman was, she was unconventional for the audience in the club in terms of both her size and markings.
Alexa's presence made Gina more painfully aware of her own unique status as the only black woman in the audience. The few famous black faces she recognized in the room were all accompanied by white females, with the exception of one very petite Asian beauty.
Nails biting into the palm of her hand, she shoved her attention to the scene unfolding onstage. The hood came off and red hair spilled toward the floor. The woman's breathing had already become erratic from her arousal, her breasts heaving upward while the rest of her generous flesh tilted and strained.
An audible desire threaded its way through the crowd in slow increments. Soft groans, choked gasps, an uncomfortable creaking from an unaccompanied male a few seats away, everything building to a quietly smothering level as Jake expertly worked his lover's body.
And then "it" appeared and Gina stopped breathing for several long seconds as she watched the first of four balls being coaxed into the woman's pussy. Alexa tensed, squeezed, sucked. Gina's body involuntarily mirrored what she saw.
"Breathe, baby." Austin's lips brushed her ear as his hand took firm possession of her shoulder. "If you pass out, I'm taking you straight to my bed and fucking you through to morning."
She sucked a large breath in, her upper torso beginning to shake. She closed her eyes, strained to keep them shut so that the tension running through the muscles of her face caused a dull roar in her ears.
Austin's hand slid from her shoulder to her throat, the tips of his middle and ring finger pressing against her larynx in a light warning. "No cheating, love."
Reluctantly, she eased her eyes open. His touch returned to her shoulder. Despite the threat, she tried to cheat anyway. She blurred her vision, but not enough that she couldn't see Alexa's straining body suck another ball inside.
A fresh tremor raced from Gina's nipples to her pussy. Her interior muscles pulled sharply upward before pushing out a fresh burst of cream to spread warm and slow against the already slick gusset of her panties.
Around her, couples started to play with one another. Slim, ringed hands fondled cocks through fabric. A few zippers were lowered. Heads dipped, then bobbed up at the sound of an electrical hum on stage.
Gina hadn't quite understood the nature of the wand she had seen in the suite. Now she watched as Jake ran its glowing tip over Alexa's flesh to deliver an electrical current.
She shook her head, not meaning to, not even sure why. An old joke ran through her mind. Something she'd heard at a Chris Rock show, maybe, about the difference between a brother killing someone and a white boy doing the deed. A brother took money and jewelry. The white boy took an eyeball and kidneys.
Same for sex, she thought, her head still moving side to side. Whites had to go and add electricity.
And straps...
And warming lube...
A sharp cry from the stage cut through Gina's thoughts. The last ball disappeared into Alexa, leaving just the tail of the toy. It wasn't enough for her lover. He had to add a weight to the tail.
That was all it took—the end of the woman's endurance and Gina's. She watched as Alexa's body went slack for an instant and then an uneven quiver spread from the center of her thighs to overtake her entire body. A hard jerk and then fluid squirted.
Gina jerked with the woman. First it was just a hard flex of her lower gut with the threat of her own orgasm, and then her whole body convulsed as she lurched onto her feet and clumsily pushed past the legs between her and the center aisle.
Austin didn't move to stop her, just rose calmly and followed.
She didn't look back, didn't look at him when he reached the elevator before the doors closed or when he slid his security card into the suite's front door and held it open for her. She knew what she would find shining in his eyes and curling his firm lips up in a smile.
Total victory.
13
Austin didn't move to secure his win—not immediately. Business-like, he shut the suite's door, swiped his card on the inside reader and punched a code in.
Gina whirled to face him. Lifting a stern finger, she jabbed it in the direction of the door handle. "That better open for me."
"You've always been free to leave, love."
"No, I haven't." She rolled her eyes at his assertion and continued use of a word—love—he knew nothing about. "You always make sure to leave just enough truth that you can twist the facts however you like."
"Always? How is that?"
The laugh in his voice stopped her march into the bedroom to retrieve her luggage and change out of the ridiculously expensive dress before she headed for downtown Miami and a more appropriate hotel room for a junior compliance officer—one that didn't have Austin Long tormenting her for his own entertainment.
"Always," she reiterated, knowing he was playing her.
She just didn't know how he was playing her. Was he trying to wear her down with a pointless argument, one he would concede in some phony show of giving ground in their battle? Was he trying to make her so mad she would exhaust herself and have to stop fighting?
Quirking one dark brow, he folded his arms across his broad chest and shook his head. "I thought lawyers were in the habit of offering proof?"
"That," she jabbed a finger at him even though the entire room separated them. "You introduced me more than once today as your legal counsel. You know I'm not. I haven't taken the bar, or been sworn in, and attorneys sure as fuck don't fuck their clients—"
"My bad, baby." He pushed away from the door, the look on his face not the least bit apologetic. "Want to spank me? I'm pretty sure there's a paddle in this room unless you want
skin on skin."
She would need a paddle. She couldn't imagine hitting that hard ass of his with her hand.
"Austin Long," she answered, shaking her head. "You need to get real—and fast—because I’m tired of all your foolishness."
He took a slow blink and licked his lips. If he was trying to squash the grin on his face, he failed.
"Maybe you want me to spank you?"
Freezing at his approach, she said nothing.
"Yeah, I think maybe you'd like that, baby."
It was her turn to blink—in disbelief. The man was as audacious as he was obstinate, as obstinate as he was rich. That wasn't an attractive combination no matter what the package it came in looked like.
Her hands lowered to her hips. Her fingers squeezed her flesh as she tried to bring her temper under control.
"If you knew what I like, you wouldn't have resorted to tricking me into coming to Miami," she shot back. "Which you know you did. Whitley wasn't even expecting me, was he?"
"If that's what you really believe, it sounds like one more reason to spank me," he answered with a chuckle before his gaze turned serious. "Or have me spank you."
"I'm through humoring you, Long." She spun, her gaze jumping around the room for her overnight bag and portfolio and landing instead on a chair.
A chair that hadn't been there when they left for the evening's performance. A chair covered in red leather that seemed to mirror every inch of a woman's body in its curves. No armrests, no back, just a rolling wave with two crests, high enough to reach the middle of her body at one end and low to the floor at the other.
"Where..."
A warning skittered through her head before she could voice the question.
No. Don't ask. Remember, girl, you don't care how the chair got there or what he intends to do to you on it.
Guessing the nature of Gina's unspoken question, Austin curled his hands around her hips and steered her closer to the piece of furniture. "I had it brought in from the other room while we were downstairs."
Her hand drifted in the direction of the outer suite. She had spent several hours in there reading through the investment material. She would have noticed.
"The other, other room," he teased as he ran his hand up and down her sides in a steady, soothing pattern.
Catching the tilt of his chin, she followed its aim to the St. Andrews Cross—the one her dress had been hanging from when she finished her shower. Only the cross, which had been firmly attached to the wall, was gone. In its place, a flat panel television waited darkly.
The brochure had mentioned that some of the suites had secret play rooms. She just hadn't realized their suite was among those rooms.
"That's a door?" Gina asked.
Without waiting for Austin to answer, she moved toward it, her gaze scratching at the corners and sides of the wall in search of the mechanism that would reveal the room beyond.
Before she could complete her second step, Austin reeled her back. "It's locked and your card won't open it—only mine will. You're not ready, baby. I need to make you come a few times before I even think about opening that door."
She swallowed then realized she had been nodding in some kind of fucked up, mindless agreement. If those were the terms, she would never see the room. She couldn't risk Austin touching her like that. With her nose to the grindstone the last three years, she had turned into a hermit. She didn't have some guy on standby to build her up after Austin tore her down, to heal her after Long broke her.
And she would break. She was out of practice at all levels—even simple social skills outside of interviewing. She spent her classes arguing with her fellow students and the professors, spent her free time learning how to argue better and memorizing legal precedents.
Her stomach bumped against something. With a gasp, she looked down to find that Austin had slowly maneuvered her to the high side of the chair. He'd done it with his lips at her throat and his hands inching the skirt of her green dress higher and higher until it was up over her hips.
"You don't want to accept how I make you feel, love."
His words rushed through her, their edges so raw and cutting that they felt like the truth.
"You wanted reasons to make it okay. I gave them to you."
His hands pushed her panties down, his palms and fingertips rough with the kind of callouses that only came from real work or extreme play.
"Skipjack," he whispered against her ear, his fingers already teasing the perimeter of her sex. "Avoiding arrest..."
In they went, three thick and twisting.
"The meeting with Whitley."
Fucking in. Fucking out.
"Advising me on an investment for which I've already decided to buy into."
Oh god, was he really getting down on his knees, inhaling her scent...licking...
Her body trembled but he didn't stop—he kept talking, touching, his tongue engaged in both actions.
"You're more than strong enough to call me on any of those," he pushed. "If you want to."
His hands and mouth retreated, Gina's only protest a soft whimper.
Moving to the bed, he opened the drawer. Her fuzzy brain slowly processed the object he withdrew, the shape and intended action only fully coalescing when he dragged the leather tails of the flogger over the sensitive, burning flesh of her back.
"No," she protested with a rasp. "Not that."
She wanted him to fuck her, wouldn't lie because her body already dripped with the truth. But she wouldn't allow him to flog her. It wasn't the color of his skin, although that was certainly salt in her wounded pride. As a dark-skinned black woman, she had been told a million ways over the course of her life that she was lowest of the low with every real world situation, every magazine ad, every book on the shelf, and movie on the screen—society valued white over black, light over dark, male over female. The same message over and over, directed at her, her mother, her little sister until they all doubted their own beauty, their own desirability.
No man, white or black, was going to flog her, no matter how light the blow or how soft the suede tails.
"Shh, love," Austin soothed.
His fingers whispered across her back, gently rubbing at the tense muscles. She jumped at first contact, but the steady pressure and ache between her legs lured her into relaxing.
"Everything at your pace," he coaxed.
A harsh laugh erupted from Gina. Her pace was when hell froze over.
"It's okay, baby," he continued, tugging and pushing as he massaged her flesh. "It's just your beautiful body and my hands."
Did he really think she was beautiful?
Didn't he watch television or flip through magazines? Hadn't he looked at the other women in the club's audience or the one on stage?
Gina pressed her face against the leather, the force she exerted and the tight grain of the material denying her air. The questions stopped. Thought stopped. All she could do was feel and maybe breathe in the intervals between feeling.
Austin's hands had return to the juncture of her thighs. They rubbed, stroked, turned her senseless. She squirmed when the fingers strayed too far from her pussy and violently shook when they entered her.
A stroke along her clit, a finger fucking in, another testing the stretch of her ass. Cream dripped down her thighs, hot and thin when it left her, cooling until it was thick by the time it reached her knees.
More fingers, so hard and plentiful that, for one nervous second, she thought he had inserted the handle of the flogger inside her. Looking at Austin, Gina saw the instrument hanging off his shoulder, its tails flowing down his chest while the handle balanced with a slight tilt toward his back.
His eyes drifted up from where they soaked in every roll of her hips and her wet, contracting pussy, to meet Gina's gaze. He stared at her for a long second, the muscles of his chest held tight but expanding.
"Do you really believe it's your pain that will bring me pleasure, love?" He asked so softly, she felt lik
e she was reading his lips more than actually hearing the words. "Do you think I want to hurt you?"
No, she didn't think that. But she wasn't sure what else to think.
"What do you want?" she asked, uncertain whether he would answer or if it would be the truth when he did.
"Your total surrender."
His answer felt slippery to Gina, like the slow, tempting drive of his fingers inside her pussy.
He had to know he had her surrender, had tasted it twice before. She wouldn't be bent over the chair, panting for another inch, another finger, if she hadn't already surrendered.
"Why?" she pushed, unsatisfied that he had told her the truth.
His hands stopped their gentle persuasion. Bending over Gina, Austin captured her chin and kissed her deeply.
When he finally answered, his words quiet, but firm.
"Because, love. I've already surrendered to you."
14
As soft as the suede tails were when motionless, their knotted ends delivered a sharp bite when they smacked against Gina's flesh.
Each sting was forgotten as the next blow landed. The brushed leather kissed her bottom, the back of her thighs, the swollen folds of her labia. Between swats, Austin continued to tease with flicks of his tongue inside her winking pussy and harder flicks with his finger against her clit.
Her sex didn't stop aching. Everything throbbed—her bottom and thighs from the slap of the flogger, her core from the sheer cliff of arousal his mouth and hands had forced Gina to climb.
She needed to come. Her pussy squeezed. She pushed onto her tiptoes then down, over and over as she rubbed her mound against the leather cushioning of the chair.
Dropping the flogger to the floor, Austin seized her hips. His thumbs pushed thickly inside her sex then stretched it with wide thrusts. When he bent his head, she thought he would lick her there, his tongue warring with thumbs to fill her aching pussy. But that moist, wriggling tip found her ass and teased the rim of that other hole.
Tempted By Trouble Page 6