by Lulu Astor
His phone chimes and he has to release Ella’s hand to pat himself down, looking for the pocket containing his iPhone. “Blackmon.”
“Mr. Blackmon, I have news,” Claudia announces.
“Go on.”
“I just checked your appointment book for the rest of the week to schedule meetings with our Chinese friends, as well as the new security guy, Thomson.”
“And?”
“It seems that someone—I’m guessing Janine—scheduled an appointment for you with none other than Natasha Yenin. I’m not sure why she thought it acceptable. She knows appointments must go through me.” There’s dead silence on both ends, as if the call dropped but the connection is live.
After about thirty seconds, Ian finds his voice again. “When?”
“Tomorrow at four.”
The heel of Ian’s hand slaps his forehead. “What the hell is she up to? I know she’s behind all of this bullshit so why would she want to meet with me? Is it because we outplayed her?”
“I don’t know, sir. But I’m certainly not itching to see her again. Should I cancel?”
“Let me think on it, Claudia. I’m going to be back a bit later than I had originally planned. Keep me posted if anything new arises.”
“Will do. Let me know when you get back.”
He disconnects the call. Ella tugs on his hand, curiosity in her eyes. “What’s going on?” She asks the question softly, treading carefully. She obviously does not want to fight with him.
“Nothing much right now.”
“It’s interesting how you never tell me what’s going on in your life yet you always expect me to share. Why the double standard?”
Narrowing his eyes, Ian remembers he’s not speaking to her and that she’s attempting to out-manipulate him. Not going to happen, Ms. Strong. “I told you we shouldn’t speak until I get a handle on my anger, Ella. I’m not there yet. Here’s the car.”
Mason quickly opens the rear door of the Lexus and Ian places his hand on Ella’s back, firmly guiding her inside the car, and he folds his tall frame into the Lexus gracefully, sitting so close to her that he’s nearly on her lap. He wants her to feel his control right now. She’s been getting too free and easy with him and it’s going to stop today. It’s going to stop as of this minute, in this car, right now.
When Ella starts to feel closed in, she scoots over a bit and he follows very slyly. She moves again and, after waiting a few moments, he follows her. Using the seatbelt from the middle seat, he clips it on as she does her own belt. Then he moves even closer until his body is pushing hers against the side of the car.
“What are you doing?”
“What do you mean?”
“You keep pushing me over on the seat. You’re making me feel claustrophobic.”
“I just want to be close to you, Ella.” He shifts his body to face her and leans his arm across her face, resting it on the side of the car next to her head. Effectively boxing her in. “Now. Explain to me what just happened with Lucien Phillips.”
“There’s nothing to explain,” she says, but her voice emerges as a strangled whisper. “He showed up at Starbucks to speak with me. I sat with him because he begged me to give him a half hour to explain. I figured, what the hell. He couldn’t hurt me: I was in a crowded coffee shop and Mason was right outside. What’s the problem, Ian?”
“The problem, Ella, is that you don’t see there’s a problem. The problem is that you refuse to see the bad in people; you refuse to acknowledge that some people are inherently evil; you refuse to listen to me! That, my dear Ms. Strong, is the fucking problem.”
She rolls her eyes, infuriating him even more. “Mason,” he spits out angrily, “home, please. Right now.”
Mason looks at Ella in the rearview mirror, his eyes reflecting concern, knowing he is to blame for the current situation. Still, he reports to Mr. Blackmon and if he didn’t inform him of Phillips’ presence, he would be remiss in discharging his employment obligations. She’ll probably hate him now, he knows… and distrust him. He sighs, frustrated, because he genuinely likes Ella and doesn’t want to see Blackmon shred her for being kind.
They pull up to the circular drive of the glass house; the garage is in the rear. “Drop us in front, please. I’ll need you in an hour or two to take me back to the office.”
“Very good, sir. I’ll park the car and wait for your summons.”
Muttering under his breath that at least some people respect his wishes, he climbs out of the car, dragging Ella with him and strides to the front door.
As soon as the door closes behind them, he’s on her. He grabs a handful of her long hair and wraps it around his wrist, until it’s tight against her nape, then he pulls her head up to look at him. “You belong to me, Ariel. Do you understand?”
He can see her large blue eyes begin to reflect anxiety. He knows she doesn’t appreciate it when he gets too possessive, but, when she flagrantly ignores his wishes, he can’t help himself. He needs to keep her safe: Ella is too pretty for her own good and that makes her a target for bad people. It’s up to him to protect her since she’s too kind to be suspicious.
Ella obviously decides to take the preemptive approach. “Ian, don’t make this into a big thing, please,” her words chastise but her voice is hoarse with arousal and his cock twitches up in response. Ella may not want to admit it, but she likes to be dominated. It turns her on.
Leaning down as if he’s going to kiss her, he stops just as his lips are about to touch hers. She’s waiting for the kiss but he denies her. He knows she can feel his warm breath on her face as he takes a moment to appreciate her beauty. “Come,” he finally says and pulls her into the bedroom with his hand still clutching her hair. When they get there, he bends her over a chair and begins to remove her clothes. “You know, Ella, what caused the rupture in our relationship the last time—the whipping I gave you. I’ll never do it again because I never want to lose you… but I confess right now it’s all I can think about, pulling off my belt and laying it across your lovely little ass, turning it burning hot and striped with pink. It’s no more than you deserve.”
He sighs. “But I’ll settle for a spanking and I want you to thank me afterward and show me how much you appreciate my concern for your welfare.”
“What? You must be crazy if you think I’ll thank you for hitting me, Ian.”
Before she can get another word out, he yanks down her panties without ceremony. Now she’s standing in her black sleeveless sweater, and high-heeled boots, her skirt in a heap on the floor. Seeing her in nothing but those sexy boots does things to Ian and he gets so hard it hurts. He may not last through her spanking, but he’ll do his best.
“Tell me why I’m spanking you.”
“Because you’re an asshole,” she says so sweetly.
Smiling, he swings his hand back and slaps her right cheek hard, stinging his hand.
“Ow!”
“Try again. Why?”
“Because you think you’re God?”
He swats her left side.
“Hey, that hurt!” she whines.
“That’s the point, isn’t it? One more time and then I’m just going to let loose on you, Ella. Why am I spanking you?”
“Because I didn’t run away from Lucien. I acted like a mature adult with a modicum of compassion and let him attempt to explain what happened to me on that very scary day and night.”
Now he gives into his fear for her safety and whales on her backside. She yells out just once after quite a few nasty swats.
“Shall I stop?” he asks politely.
She doesn’t answer but her hips sway so he takes that as tacit approval. Her mind and body are at war when it comes to his domination but her body usually wins. He gives her three more swats with a lighter touch and then yanks her up, spins her around, and kisses her with abandon. She won’t open her mouth to him so he nips and licks her lips. Still, Ella keeps her mouth tightly closed so he moves to her neck and his hot mouth latc
hes on, sucking hard and then biting down.
“What’s wrong with you?” she says sharply as she attempts to pull back. “That really fucking hurt!”
“Yes, I’m aware—again, that was the point. You wouldn’t kiss me. Are you mad at me?”
“Damned straight. If you stick your tongue in my mouth, Ian, I promise you I’ll bite it off.”
“Really? Do you know that you’re sending me mixed signals, Ella? Your face and mouth are telegraphing anger but your body is screaming for more. My money says you’re dripping wet with want. Care to make a bet?” He could hear the hunger in his own voice as he speaks to her. Can she?
“Fuck you, Ian. You’re not checking.”
“Oh, I’m checking, baby.” Tangling his fingers in her glossy hair, he slides his other hand between her legs and his fingers slip effortlessly past the outer to the inner. “His broad grin is triumphant as he whispers into her ear, “Told you so.”
She glares at him but says nothing.
“Now… say thank you to me for caring enough to punish you, Ella.”
Her startled eyes could not open any wider; she simply is unable to believe the things coming out of his mouth. “Dream on.”
He grinds his hips against her, smiling wickedly because he knows Ella’s frustration is mounting and feeling his hard-on is making her hotter. Her fingers begin to unbutton his pants but he pulls back out of her reach, his hands weaving through her hair, massaging her scalp. “I’m waiting for the thank-you, baby.”
“Ian, you’re not getting one, not today. I did what I thought was right. Sometimes you’re going to have to bite the bullet and trust other people’s judgment, particularly mine. I know it’s difficult for you but if you stay with me, you’ll learn. Now forget the thank-you and just do me already.”
He turns her around and pushes her down on her knees with her chest resting on the bed, one hand still holding her hair. He doesn’t want to let go: he wants her to feel the unbroken connection until she comes, so he fumbles with his fly with his free hand, jerking his pants down only far enough to liberate his rock-hard erection. He reaches around and finds her breast, massaging it and tugging her nipple just to the point of gentle pain, as he uses his knee to spread her legs wider. “Don’t move, Ella. Stay perfectly still,” he orders as he thrusts inside her. He reaches around to massage her in front in counterpoint to his thrusts, kissing her neck up and down.
“Don’t come.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
“Ian, I can’t.”
“If you come, I’ll spank you again.”
He flips Ella around to watch her face as she struggles to stave off her orgasm but ultimately she can’t hold it any more and with a throaty scream, she climaxes.
“Oh, Ella, you disobeyed me.” He lifts her leg and swiftly swats her sore backside once and then thrusts into her ferociously and she comes again, a look of utter astonishment on her face. At that point, he lets himself go too, unable to hold back a moment longer, and collapses, spent, on top of her.
“Will you marry me, Ariel?”
“You have got to be kidding me, Ian,” she says breathlessly. “Ask me again when we’re dressed and you’re on bended knee and I’ll consider it.”
She pushes him off her and rolls over on the bed, pulling the coverlet back and scooting underneath. Her back now to him, she turns her head enough for him to hear her next words. “Until then, I’m taking a nap. You can wake me when you get home from work.”
When no response comes, she turns around and sees him standing there, his clothes now set to rights, just staring at her. She can’t read the emotion swirling around in the depths. Is it confusion? She just can’t tell.
She rises to her knees, crawls over and circles her arms around his neck, kissing him gently. The kiss speaks volumes: he knows in his bones that she loves him as much as he loves her.
Chapter 36
When I wake from my nap, it’s dark out and the room is shrouded in dusky shadows. At first I panic, disoriented. Familiarity breeds comfort and I soon realize I’m in Ian’s bedroom. Instantly I calm, and check the time. Six thirty. Is Ian home yet? I asked him to wake me when he got home.
Stretching my body as far as I can, I feel so good: boneless—all sinew and muscle. Sex with Ian has that opiate effect on me. True, he went all Neanderthal on my ass—literally—and I allowed him to. It’s only taken me a year and change but I think I’ve finally figured him out: I now understand that when he’s stressed out and/or having problems at work, his dominance emerges big time.
When I first met him and he showed me his dungeon, I was horrified and intrigued in equal measure. Horrified because… well, that reaction probably doesn’t need explanation. Intrigued, because I’ve always been adventurous and since I kept my sexuality bridled for so long, it was almost inevitable that I’d become a wild child, at least for a little bit, when I finally let loose.
But with Ian and his proclivities, I assumed it was part of his innate sexuality, an alpha-male need to dominate everyone around him, and a raging libido that required exotic measures to quiet. Perhaps that got my back up a bit, at least in the beginning, especially when he took a whip to me.
Now? Now I realize it’s not his innate sexuality, per se. He’s cultivated this kind of sexual behavior to make sense of his world and his place in it. It’s as if he uses sexual dominance to bring order to his world when his control is slipping in other areas of his life. In essence, he uses it as a coping mechanism. That revelation has allowed me to indulge him a little bit more, to feel less guilty that I’m caving in to his violent and macho tendencies.
I’ve also realized something about myself too and it was a difficult revelation to swallow: I definitely do get highly aroused when he sexually dominates me—sexually being the operative word. It seems a strange disposition for someone like me because I think of myself as a strong and even forceful personality at times. Despite my strength of character or perhaps because of it, I enjoy relinquishing control to Ian when we are intimate. It’s the ultimate fantasy of the strong male stealing and carrying off the female to ravage—a kind of Bedouin harem fantasy thing—and Ian never forces it on me, always checking to ensure that I want him to continue. It’s a game, a dance almost, where he leads and I can choose to either follow or not.
The spanking? Confusing. On the one hand, it’s painful and he generally delivers it in anger—never a good combination. On the other hand, it is like a pressure valve for me: the whole ordeal with Lucien brought volatile emotions to the surface and then Ian and I had a very emotional reunion. Being spanked today allowed me to let off steam—he always says it will make me feel better. I used to laugh at him but he was right, as much as I truly fucking hate to admit it, damn it. I do feel better afterward, calmer and relaxed. Go figure. I suppose he feels better too, having vented his frustration on my backside. Win-win?
Then Lucien pops into my head. I try to banish him but he won’t quit me. Alright, I’ll give him his quarter through contemplation. Here’s the thing: his story was so unbelievable but they say truth is stranger than fiction… and in my case, it usually is—witness my runaway bestseller. Lucien’s body language seemed honest enough; I watched his every move. Growing up, my best friend’s father was a detective and he taught us interrogation techniques and how to tell if someone is lying. I used some of them on Lucien and no red flags came up. Still…
Even if his story is one-hundred-percent true, he still is not without culpability. Even if he didn’t know I was drugged—and the jury is still out on that one—he still touched me without my permission. I was in no shape to give consent so legally he sexually assaulted me. Further, even if his kidnapping story was true, why have thugs hanging around? Why not pay them off and get them out? It takes a thug to know one.
I won’t forgive him… but I probably won’t press charges either. Earlier I received a text saying my blood test results were ready and being mailed to me. I couldn’
t call because it was too late in New York but first thing in the morning I’ll check.
But I already know; I know I was drugged. And it makes me scared. It makes me realize how safety is really just an illusion, a lie we tell ourselves. It’s something so tenuous that someone can come along at any time and drug or Taser you and that’s it—that’s all it takes to overpower another person. You wake up and you’ve been immobilized and you’re at the mercy of a crazy person, just like that. It’s that idea and the underlying terror it engenders in me that is pushing me to begin therapy. Soon.
The sound of an outer door closing interrupts my stream of consciousness and a few seconds later, the bedroom door opens. Ian steps in quietly, peering over at me to see if I’m still asleep: he looks anxious and I think I know why. He’s afraid of the aftermath of what transpired earlier. I’m not angry with him because I know his reaction stemmed from a good place, a loving place, so I smile and he returns it with a heart-stopping full-teeth beauty, causing my innards to seesaw. The man is one of the wonders of the world—I guess the eighth one.
“How are you, Ella?” his voice is soft, like silk rustling on bare skin.
“Fine. Can we talk? Do you have time?”
“Yes, of course. I was planning on taking you out for dinner. Are you up to it?”
“Um. Maybe. Come here.”
He sits on the edge of the bed and I crawl over to him, snuggling under his arm. Mmm, he smells so good: soap and cologne and his own special scent. I inhale deeply.
“I like the way you smell too, you know,” he says with a shy smile.
Returning his smile, I reach up and caress his face: I love this man so much that my chest feels tight, so full it’s near to bursting. I don’t want to break this small communion between us but I need to talk to him about this afternoon, share it with him so he can get past any residual anger. Hesitantly, I broach the topic. “Ian, about my conversation with Lucien…”
“Yes?”
“I just want to tell you what he said. Will you hear it?”
He nods but I can see the new look in his eyes, the very pissed-off look.