by M. A. Ellis
“Go into my closet and pick three more ties.”
“Why would we need—” The words escaped her mouth before Becca could stop them and she brought her fingers to her lips, knowing she’d just fucked up.
“Disobedience. Not surprising.” His gaze narrowed and she waited for the teasing sparkle to reach his eyes. It didn’t. But he leaned back on one hand and wrapped the other around his cock, leisurely stroking. “If we’re going to play. We need to do it right. No questions.”
Becca stared at him. “Have you been reading up on this stuff?”
His gaze didn’t waver. “It’s going to be worse the longer you stand here.”
Becca didn’t know what “it” was but she was torn between obeying and wanting to find out. She hurried toward his room, the click-click-click of her heels on the hardwood sounding like the upward climb of an old-fashioned roller coaster. The same escalating anticipation was winding through her.
She opened the door to his walk-in closet and found his revolving tie rack. Holy shit. Would it matter which ones she picked? Some of them were probably expensive but she didn’t think he wanted her to take time to check the labels.
He’d have ordered you to do that if he did.
Fuck. She grabbed three that were in the same burnt orange color range as the one he’d been wearing and rushed back to Chad, running on the balls of her feet until she reached the hardwood floor. Then she straightened her spine and attempted a confident strut. She wanted to be controlled, but not completely subjugated. There was a difference.
He had moved backward on the ottoman until the bend of his knees were flush against the side.
“Put those next to the other ones and turn around.”
Becca dropped the ties onto the piece of furniture and spun around in front of his knees.
“Not like that,” he said, wrapping his hands around her upper thighs and guiding her backward, widening her stance as he did. “Legs open.”
Two more steps and she was straddling his legs. Her thighs pressed against his knees, the distinct creak of leather-against-leather as the back of her boots rubbed the ottoman. The silky lingerie had gone from feeling sexy to annoying. A rush of desire pooled low in her belly and a second later wetness seeped from her pussy, making her dampened panties adhere to her throbbing flesh.
Becca knew he was staring at her ass. Or maybe he was looking at her straining thighs. He shifted his knees and pushed them wider until she was forced onto her toes.
“Disobedience demands punishment.”
She swallowed hard. Not knowing his definition of “punishment” heightened her arousal.
“Clasp your arms in front of you and look straight ahead.”
She had barely obeyed when his hands gripped her waist. He rotated his thumbs inward and slowly massaged the pair of sea-foam-green Old-World dolphins that were inked over the muscles just above her glutes. His thumbs rose upward, touched the center of her spine and she knew he was tracing the water that spouted from their mouths.
“Relax, Becca.” His words only served to make her more restless. She flexed the muscles in her ass. Then wished she hadn’t. The motion sent a contraction of lust through her pussy.
His palms glided downward over the satin of her panties. He lingered at the bottom of her ass, stroking the underside of each cheek until she couldn’t help shifting her stance.
“Anxious?” he asked.
She knew better than to answer. If she said yes, he’d stop.
Maybe you should say no and see what happens.
Becca shrugged instead. Then held her breath.
His hand snaked between her legs, his fingers pressing into the valley of her outer folds. He rubbed her then made his way to her clit, drawing a wide circle around the sensitive kernel before he closed his fingers over it and pressed hard. Becca tossed her head backward and bit her lip. She throbbed against his fingers. It felt good. Better than when she teased herself to orgasm. She didn’t understand how that could be. How he could know her body as well as she did.
Chad palmed her fully, the heel of his strong hand pressed against the spot of skin between her anus and her pussy. He flexed his wrist and pleasure shot to both places. Little waves of delight rose and fell with each miniscule rocking motion. Waves that wouldn’t crest unless he stripped her bare and stroked her skin on skin. He applied more pressure to her swollen labia and Becca couldn’t contain the frustrated grunt that slipped from her parted lips.
He gathered the back of her panties in his other hand, forcing the material tight against her aching clit. “Still indifferent?” he asked.
She couldn’t tell if his tone held more smugness or more satisfaction. He moved his hand again and her vision clouded. Perspiration broke out and trickled along her spine, under her breasts. The tautness of the material against her flesh made his stroking more maddening and Becca thrust against his hand.
It was so different from how he’d touched her before. With one breath she wanted him to stop and put an end to his teasing. In the next, she wanted him to make her crave more.
“Do you want to come?”
“Yes!” Becca thrust against his hand again. He yanked his hand away, then slapped her silk-covered pussy, sharp and quick. Just once. If he did that again, just a little higher, Becca thought she’d explode.
“Wrong answer.” He grabbed her waist again and slid his knees together, holding her until she followed his lead and was standing shakily in front of him. Her panties remained stuffed between her ass cheeks and she had the sudden urge to step to the side and fling herself over his knees.
“Turn around and take off your clothes,” he said in a thick voice.
No. That isn’t what’s supposed to happen. Ask him to spank you.
He didn’t want a striptease. That was clear from his tone and Becca reached behind her and unclasped her bra. She turned, sliding it from her shoulders, and found him holding one of the neckties. Dropping her bra to the floor, she hurried to wiggle her panties downward. She pulled them over her boots, careful not to catch the leg openings on one of her heels and take an unsexy header to the floor.
She thought losing the constricting garments would have offered some relief but she was wrong. Her pussy still throbbed and the cool air made her nipples tighten a little more.
“Wrists.”
Becca looked down at Chad. His erection was still there, a tiny glistening drop of pre-cum showing her his seemingly distanced attitude was a front. But damn, the man was good. She extended her arms, shivering when he brushed the silk over her knuckles. He used the narrower ends to encase her wrists, leaving a good portion of the tie to hang downward. He repeated the same slow process with her other wrist and Becca dropped her hands to her sides.
He stood up and she didn’t move. He hadn’t told her to and this way she’d have a good chance of touching his hot skin, of feeling his chest brushing her erect nipples. She tilted her head backward, closing her eyes as she parted her lips, silently pleading for another of his kisses.
“Hands and knees on the ottoman.”
Becca’s eyes shot open, ready to refuse the totally vulnerable position but his deep-blue gaze had turned expectant. He wanted this as much as she did and she looked downward, not wanting him to see she recognized the fact. It was as if she was the one who was really in control.
She crawled onto the middle of the ottoman and placed her arms shoulder width apart, but moved her legs close together. He’d have to order her to spread them.
He walked around until he was standing in front of her, offering a gorgeous view of his cock. Without thinking she reached for him. Ran her fingers up and down his shaft before closing her fingers around it. The little drop hanging at the end got bigger and she leaned forward and licked it away. That little taste demanded more and she opened her lips just far enough that she could slide his cock head into her mouth, keeping the suction nice and tight. She drew him deep then drew back and bobbed her head in the little short stro
kes she knew he liked until she needed to do more than breathe through her nose. The minute his cock left her mouth he leaned forward and she smiled, assuming he wanted more.
The sharp sting of his palm landing against her ass cheek made her squeal.
“Change of plans. Lie down flat.”
Now you’re going to have to wait even longer, dumbass.
Becca eased downward, flinching when the cool leather came in contact with her stomach and her breasts. She needed a moment to get used to it.
His palm landed again, this time on the other cheek and she stopped herself before she cried out. It was harder than the first smack but it rocked her hips against the ottoman, the quick moment of friction making her toes flex. He whacked her again, catching the underside of one ass cheek and an arrow of sheer desire followed the brief moment of pain. It shot to her pussy and Becca squirmed. He wasn’t hitting her as hard as that one crack. The one that allowed her clit a second of stimulation.
His strikes were quick and shallow, never landing in the same spot twice. Pain and pleasure and torture all rolled into one. Heat radiated from her skin and Becca began to writhe. Juice trickled from her pussy, downward over her neglected clit.
“Stop. Please,” she gasped.
He did. Immediately.
Her ass had to be cherry red. It felt as if it were. Coolness touched her flesh and she realized it was his opposite hand. The one that hadn’t been administering the punishment. He caressed her in light little circles that should have been a balm. But all they did was make her throb even more. She shifted her hips again and he trailed his fingers around the outer curve of her ass cheeks and down her legs. He stopped just above her knees and spread her legs wider.
Normally, she’d be apprehensive but Becca was to the point that she didn’t care. She wanted release, however he wanted to give it.
His big hands closed over her ass and he squeezed, pulling her cheeks apart. She bit her lip, waiting for whatever was next. It would be delicious, she knew that now. He’d stoked her higher than she’d ever been.
“Fuck.” His curse echoed through the room.
Becca held her breath. Wondered what she did wrong.
“Get up. Elbows and knees.”
He moved and she turned her head just in time to see his naked form disappear through his bedroom door. She faced forward and had her arms and knees in position before she heard him stalk back into the room.
“Open your legs wider.” Urgency overrode his commanding tone and she rushed to comply. His words were enough to stoke her right back to the point her pussy was dripping.
She heard the rip of a condom packet being opened and the sound of a flip cap. Cool, wet liquid rolled down her cleft.
His fingers followed in its wake, rubbing the liquid between her inner labia over her sensitive clit and upward again. He didn’t stop at her pussy. He moved to her anus and she clenched her muscles against the unknown. Chad took his time, stroking the puckered flesh until apprehension transformed into curiosity. She couldn’t keep her hips from moving.
He moved onto the ottoman and ran his cock up and down the path he had just lubed, teasing her as it slid down and tapped her clit before moving upward and teasing the sensitive skin between her pussy and her anus. He rubbed tiny little circles there, not moving upward. Not moving downward.
“Oh my god,” Becca moaned. The torment was too much. “Pick an opening,” she gasped, half-joking. “Any opening.”
His snort of laughter was accompanied by his cock sliding downward and stretching her pussy with one long, slow stroke. “Mmm. That really is heaven.”
She thought so too but when he just knelt there Becca decided to take control. She eased away from his thighs then rocked backward, tilting her pelvis as she impaled herself once more. His groan told her she’d done something right for him. His cock head was hitting her G-spot with a precision that definitely worked for her and she set an easy tempo, one that made her orgasm build steadily.
It was more than heavenly. It was perfect. Chad was perfect. And Becca knew they were perfect together and always would be.
That thought had Becca missing a couple of rungs on the ladder to release. Her rhythm faltered but Chad was there for her, grasping her hips and holding her steady as he began thrusting harder and faster. The quicker tempo rocketed her to the peak. But he hadn’t told her to come. She tried to hold back, but she couldn’t.
“I can’t wait,” she gasped, a rush of heat preceding the oncoming orgasm.
“Then come,” he said in a hoarse, shaky voice.
And she did. Her body convulsed, her muscles tightening to the point of pain until the wave of heat turned molten. It shot through her arms and legs with a speed and intensity the likes of which she’d never experienced. Tremor upon tremor rippled through her until Becca’s upper body collapsed onto the ottoman. Chad followed her down, his chest pressed against her back, his chin resting against her shoulder. Their harsh breathing mingling then bouncing off the leather to warm their faces.
“So,” he said when he’d caught his breath. “Did you like that? Despite the fact we never actually got to tie you up.” He nipped her shoulder then said in a very serious tone. “I suck.”
Becca laughed, then stopped quickly when she realized the motion started to dislodge his softening cock from her pussy. She didn’t want that. She loved the feel of them together. Loved the way he made her body burn. She loved—
Her heart slammed against her ribs, her mind refusing to finish that thought. She adored him, that was all. Which was different than love. Because she was pretty certain neither one of them were ready for that.
Chapter Seven
Becca’s generic ringtone sounded and she jumped, digging her elbow into Chad’s ribs as she bolted upright. No one called her at night and she immediately thought of her parents. Her sister. Her nephews.
She rolled to her side, heart hammering. Her legs tangling in the blanket Chad had thrown over them, nearly sending her off the ottoman and onto the floor as she tried to remember where she’d left her purse. The ringing became louder and she turned to see Chad hurrying across the room, his chest illuminated by the soft glow of her phone. He swiped the screen and handed it to her.
“This is Becca.”
“This is Shawna. From today. At your shop.” Her voice was shaky and Becca could hear other people talking in the background. “Oh my god, we need your help,” she cried.
The thudding in Becca’s chest increased and she hit the speaker button.
“Calm down, Shawna. Whatever it is, it’ll be fine.” Becca went into full-frontal aunt mode and started scooting off the ottoman. “What happened?”
“It’s Franco. He told the Master he didn’t know where Libbie had gone. And he told us he didn’t like the way the gauze looked and made us take it off. And he used the whip on Franco instead of the flogger because the people from Romania were here and they like that better—”
The woman was rambling and Becca tried to follow as she quickly put her bra and panties on. Chad was already in his clothes and rushing toward the kitchen.
“But the Master asked him again about Libbie and Franco said he didn’t know and the Master got angry and accidentally hit Franco’s tattoo and now it’s bleeding. And he’s crying. Franco never cries.”
“Call an ambulance,” Becca said, taking the phone with her and setting it on the small table in the foyer. She opened the closet and grabbed the miniskirt she’d considered wearing for Chad and pulled it up her legs and over her hips.
“No! We can’t do that.” Shawna’s voice took on a more desperate tone.
“Then take him to the ER,” Chad interjected, suddenly by her side. He had grabbed her boots in one hand and her trench coat in the other. Becca took the coat and quickly put it on while Chad hit the button for the elevator.
“Can’t you come and fix it?” Shawna implored. “We have medicine and stuff, but didn’t know what we should use. Gretchen thinks no alcohol.
”
Becca could have offered advice but that would have meant a rundown of what they had on hand and Shawna didn’t sound in any condition to focus. She picked up her phone and took the boots from Chad. He pulled the edges of her coat together and cinched the belt around her waist. She would have mouthed her thanks but the sound of Shawna’s soft sobs stopped her.
“How are we supposed to get in the club?” Chad asked loudly.
Becca looked at him, at the determined set of his jaw, and knew he was a hundred percent on board with her decision.
Silence. Then in the background, Gretchen’s voice yelling, “Keep it together, Shawna, and just fucking tell them.”
“O-okay.” Shawna stammered and another few seconds passed. The elevator arrived and Becca hoped the call wouldn’t drop on the descent. “If you’re going south on Fourth there’s an alley just past the entrance to the club. Turn down there and when you pass a couple Dumpsters there’s a door on your left. It’s where the deliveries come in. How quick can you get here?”
“Ten minutes,” Becca and Chad replied in unison.
The elevator swept them straight to the ground level and the taillights of Chad’s Rover flashed as he unlocked the car. Becca jumped inside. “Do you want to stay on the phone with me, Shawna?”
“No, I need to give it back to Gretch. I’ll meet you at the door. Please hurry.”
The phone went dead and Becca stared at the screen. “Fuck,” she muttered, just as Chad cleared the security gate. The tires squealed as he made the turn and started speaking into his hands-free unit.
“Call Dave at work.” A voice, cheery but with a Kathleen Turner-like tone, repeated his request and asked if it was correct. “Yes,” he replied.
Dave? The same Dave who was Jim Phelps? The dude who had offered the intel on Andres? Becca fastened her seat belt. There were a ton of questions she wanted to ask Chad about all that but she remained quiet.