I lift my head up and look into Adrian’s eyes. “In.”
A smile creases his face as he steps aside to let me enter. “Good.”
I follow him inside, marveling at how remarkably neat and tidy everything is. “You guys just moved in, but I’d never be able to tell.”
“The credit belongs to our assistant, Nita,” he replies. “She cracks the whip around here. Metaphorically, of course,” he adds quickly. “I think it’s a very bad idea to mix work and play.”
I couldn’t agree more. The firm I’d worked for had done a lot of business with the government. After I left Raymond, I’d quit my job to avoid running into him. It had taken a year of constant struggle and eroding savings before I found my feet again.
We pass through the office. Modern art hangs on the exposed brick walls. The floors are hardwood, and the space is open-concept, with glass-topped tables and sleek Aeron chairs dotting the area. A couple of people are working late. They look up as we pass, and I can feel their silent scrutiny.
There are people around. People who will hear me scream. Thank heavens.
With trembling knees, I follow Adrian into a stairwell, and he leads the way up a flight of stairs. “What did Sandy do?”
“She was a stockbroker.”
Oh. I don’t know why that surprises me, but it does. I’d ask Adrian more questions, but I get the sense that he doesn’t really want to talk about the dead woman. Totally understandable. From all signs, they’d been very much in love. It’s got to be brutally hard when the love of your life dies so young.
Adrian leads the way to a large corner office, where Brody is typing something on his computer. He looks up as we walk in, and I survey him from beneath my eyelashes. The call he received yesterday must be still on his mind because his ready smile is missing.
Suddenly, I’m nervous again. To try and take my mind off the reason I’m here, I survey the long, rectangular room. Adrian and Brody must share the space. There are two wooden desks on either side. The walls here are white, and the floor-to-ceiling windows are covered by thick camel curtains that pool on the espresso-colored hardwood floors. Two identical, geometric black-and-white rugs provide a splash of energy, echoed by the two abstract paintings on the walls, one behind Brody’s desk and one behind Adrian’s.
In the middle of the room, there’s a small seating area, with a couch and two chairs surrounding a coffee table. Adrian seats himself on the couch, while Brody gets up and walks to a small bar. “Drink?” he asks me.
“Am I allowed?” Most dominants don’t drink before or during a scene, not wanting the alcohol to cloud their senses. The rule applies to submissives too, for the same reasons.
If I’m being offered a drink, that must mean that they’ve changed their mind about today’s scene. A tendril of disappointment winds down my spine, and I stiffen. Get a grip, Fiona.
“I think the answer depends on you,” he replies calmly.
My pulse is racing, and my palms are damp. I don’t know what I want. “Could I get some sparkling water?”
“Sure.” Brody reaches for a bottle of Perrier, fills a glass with ice, pours the water into it and hands it to me. “Sit,” he says, pointing to the chairs. “You look nervous. We don’t bite.” A grin flashes across his face. “Not unless you ask very nicely.”
I return his smile as I settle myself on the armless chair he’s indicated, feeling a little more reassured. It’s funny. This is only the fifth time I’m meeting them, but I already feel like I know the two men. Adrian is intense, brooding, rare to smile, but when he does, you’ve really earned it. Brody, on the other hand, is sunshine itself, and it feels wrong to see him so troubled.
Brody moves to the window. My eyes dart between the two men, not knowing which one of them to focus on. “You seem on edge,” Adrian says. “Are you afraid of me? Of Brody?”
No. “I don’t know what to expect.”
“Relax, Fiona,” Brody says from across the room. “You’re wound so tight. It’s supposed to be fun.”
Fun isn’t the word I’d use, but I get his point. I need to calm down. If I’m freaking out like this, they’ll be on the phone to Xavier the moment I get out of here.
I sit back in the chair. “Sorry,” I say sheepishly. “I don’t know what’s wrong.”
“I do,” Adrian murmurs.
Damn it. It’s their stupid Fiona-is-traumatized theory again. I grit my teeth. They’re wrong, and I’m going to prove it to them. I’m going to have fun. Just like Brody said.
“Tell us more, Fiona,” Adrian says. “When you say you want to scene, what do you mean exactly? Do you want to be spanked? Flogged? Do you want to be tied down and forced to suck our cocks?”
“I hadn’t thought that far,” I admit, color staining my cheeks.
“Who do you want to scene with?” Brody asks. “Adrian, me, or both?”
My mind throws up an image of Brody and Adrian, one fucking my mouth, the other slamming into my pussy. My desires are so carnal, so wicked. I should be ashamed of myself, but I’m not. I turned thirty on Tuesday. I’m a big girl now, and it’s okay to ask for what I want. “Both of you,” I say softly.
Adrian and Brody exchange glances. “Brody?” Adrian prompts. “You in?”
The blond man doesn’t reply right away. He watches me, and I get the sense that he’s struggling with this. I don’t understand. At lunch yesterday, I could have sworn that there was a spark of attraction between us. Now, I’m not sure.
Finally, Brody breaks the silence that has stretched out. “Let’s play a game, Fiona. Okay?”
My stomach churns with anxiety, but anticipation dances through my veins. “Okay.”
“You’ll address me as Mr. Payne.”
“Yes, Mr. Payne.”
Adrian leans back, his expression darkly amused. He takes a sip of his drink but doesn’t say anything to interrupt the scene.
“What’s your safeword?”
Goosebumps rise on my skin. “Red,” I force out through shaky lips.
“And yellow to slow things down?” he asks, quirking an eyebrow at me.
“Yes.”
His lips tilt into a grin. “Eager for punishment so soon, Fiona?”
It should have been ‘Yes, Mr. Payne.’ Shit. I frown in annoyance. I know the rules; I should be better at playing the game. “Sorry, Mr. Payne. I forgot.”
“Hmm.” He doesn’t tell me how he’s going to punish me, or even if he is. I guess I’ll have to live with the suspense.
Brody’s in charge. A feeling of calm washes over me as that realization sinks in. No decisions to make. No hidden emotions to try to read. All I have to do is submit.
I’m still sitting in my chair. I feel like I should be kneeling or standing, but I stay where I am, waiting. If they want me to move, they’ll tell me.
“Set your drink on the table.”
My hand trembles as I follow the order. Adrian’s eyes follow me, taking in every quiver, but he says nothing. I’m not scared, I want to assure him. Well, I am, a little bit, but it’s a good scared. It’s an excited scared. Like the way you feel when the roller-coaster is climbing up the slope, and your skin crawls with fearful yet eager anticipation of the ride to come.
“Very good, Fiona,” Brody says approvingly. “Unbutton your shirt, please.”
“You can’t make too much noise,” Adrian adds with a wicked glint in his eyes. “Jerry and Stuart are downstairs.”
“Yes, Mr. Lockhart.”
I undo one button at a time, slowly, methodically. Both men’s eyes are on me, their gazes hungry. Their erections are clearly visible under their trousers, and the sizes of the bulges are both impressive and intimidating. Especially when I think about both of them in me at the same time.
When all the buttons are undone, I start to slip out of the shirt, but Brody’s voice, sharp as a whip, stops me. “Did I ask you to take off your shirt, Fiona?” he asks me, his voice deepening, his tone stern.
“No, Mr. Payne
.”
“Do you need a spanking to remind you to follow instructions, Ms. Clarke?”
Oh God. I nearly groan at the idea of a spanking. Of being dragged over Brody’s lap, panties around my ankles, and being punished for my disobedience. “Yes please,” I say hopefully.
Both Brody and Adrian chuckle. “If you want a spanking, Fiona,” Brody says, the corners of his lips turning up, “you’ll have to be very good.”
“Yes, Mr. Payne.”
“Stand up.”
I do as he tells me.
It’s a large office, but there’s not much room between the chair and the coffee table. Adrian’s only an arms-length away. If I stumble sideways, I’ll fall into his lap. My pussy clenches at the thought. How could I have forgotten how much I craved this? All day, I’ve been waiting for this moment.
Brody moves toward me, predator seeking prey. Never in the history of the animal planet has the prey been more willing, more ready, and he knows it. He stops in the open space between the desk and the seating area. “Come here,” he says, crooking two fingers at me.
For a split-second, I hesitate. The drapes are open, and it’s still daylight outside. I don’t think I can be seen from the street, but I’m not sure.
The essence of submission is surrendering control.
I need to trust them. “Yes, Mr. Payne,” I whisper, moving to the spot he’s indicated.
“Good girl.” Adrian’s voice is approving. “The windows are tinted,” he adds. “No one can see inside.”
“Thank you, Mr. Lockhart.” The explanation reassures me as much as his decision to offer it. I appreciate Adrian’s awareness of my discomfort.
Brody moves behind me, his hands sliding up the curve of my ass to the small of my back. He undoes the button at my waistband and pulls the zipper down slowly. I inhale deeply, and the garment falls to the floor in a swish of fabric. “Step out of it.”
Suppressing my urge to lean back against his broad chest, I step forward, lifting one leg out of the skirt and then another. “Pick it up, Fiona.”
I bend at my waist and reach for the discarded skirt on the floor, and Brody runs his palms over the globes of my ass. I brace myself for a spank, but one doesn’t come. With slight disappointment, I straighten, and Brody kicks my legs open. “Wider,” he orders. “Hands behind your back.”
The volley of orders takes me by surprise. I widen my stance and lace my fingers together behind my back. My lace-covered breasts thrust out, my nipples pebbled with need. Brody turns me so I’m facing Adrian, and the other man smiles with warm appreciation as his eyes run over my half-naked, half-undressed body.
“Do you like this?” Brody whispers. He wraps his arms around me, and his fingers play with my breasts. He pulls my shirt down my shoulders, and I unlace my fingers so that Brody can tug it free. He tosses it carelessly on the chair I was sitting in. The bra follows, and then he returns his attention to my breasts, kneading them with his big hands.
I throw my head back, gasping with pleasure at the rough caress. This. This is what I’ve missed. Brody’s touch isn’t gentle or sweet. He’s claiming me. Owning me.
“You’re going to walk over to Adrian,” he growls into my ear. “You’re going to sit on his lap, your legs spread wide. And you’re going to make yourself come.”
My insides quiver with excitement as he rolls my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. “But first,” he says, “I’m going to give you that spanking you’ve earned.”
My heart starts to race.
“Fiona?” Brody prompts, his eyes on my face. “Is everything okay?”
You’re having fun, I remind myself. You can do this.
“Yes, Mr. Payne.”
13
Adrian:
She’s so on edge. She’s turned on, but she won’t let herself relax.
Yesterday, I mentioned Downing’s name, and she’d flinched. How is she going to react when she sees him in the club? Yes, Raymond Downing should be stopped, but I can’t throw Fiona to the wolves. She’s not ready. Even though it’s been two years since she left her dominant, she’s still terrified.
But she’s here. After everything that creep put her through, she’s still here. So beautifully responsive when she lets herself. Her courage awes me.
I don’t know what I’m doing. The smartest thing to do would be to call an end to this session and tell Xavier to find another way of getting to Downing. Fiona’s vulnerability is terrifying because it calls to me. I want to take her in my arms and comfort her. I want her to trust again. What I’m feeling is deeper than a superficial fuck, and I’m not ready.
You suggested the trip that killed Sandy, my conscience reminds me. You were responsible for her death. Had you never gone to Vermont that February weekend, she’d still be alive.
I couldn’t protect Sandy, and I can’t heal Fiona’s wounds.
Yet when she walks toward me, her eyes bright and her face flushed, I can’t resist. Even though I know I’m making a mistake.
Fiona:
“Bend forward,” Brody says. “Put your palms on the coffee table.”
Flushing, I obey the directions. The way Brody has me positioned, I’m bent parallel to the coffee table, breasts dangling, ass in the air. My face is inches from Adrian’s face, close enough that he can see every shudder, hear every catch of breath.
Nowhere to hide.
I don’t know why, but a switch flips in my mind as I wait for my spanking. I’m not nervous anymore. All my fears seem to float away like a balloon on a breeze, and I’m free to enjoy Adrian and Brody’s touch. For two years, I’ve been carrying a weight around, but when I bend over the table, surrendering to their control, I hand over the burden to Adrian and Brody, and it’s liberating, intoxicating.
I feel the way I did before Raymond entered my life. For the first time in a very long time, I’m myself again, and it feels great.
“What should you say, Fiona?” Adrian asks me, a slight smile playing on his lips. I have to marvel at his control. He’s obviously aroused—there’s no hiding that erection—but he appears in no hurry to do anything about it. Yet.
“Thank you for spanking me.”
Adrian’s hand cups my cheek. “Good kitten.”
He leans forward and kisses me on my nose, and the unexpected gesture takes me by surprise. I can’t hold back my giggle. “You missed,” I point out cheekily.
“Did I?” His eyes twinkle. He tweaks my nipples, and I gasp at the sensation that floods through me. Behind me, Brody runs his fingers along my cleft. “You’re soaked, Fiona.” He rolls my panties down to my knees, and then his hand is between my legs again, touching, teasing. “So wet,” he murmurs.
“What turns you on, little kitten?” Adrian asks. He’s still playing with my nipples, pinching them hard and rolling them between his fingertips. I groan, unable to keep the sound from escaping my lips.
“Don’t hold back,” Adrian says. “I want everything, Fiona. Every moan, every scream, every sob. It’s all mine.”
He bends forward, this time, kissing my lips. His hands are in my hair, loosening my ponytail. My hair falls in a veil around my face. Through all of this, Brody’s fingertips dance over my pussy, his touch maddeningly light. I want to push back and deepen the pressure, but I know better.
My dominants are in charge. When they want me to come, they’ll tell me. It feels so good to trust them to take care of me.
Adrian’s tongue slides into my mouth, hot and insistent. I remember to keep my palms flat on the table, but it’s a strain. I want to lose myself in his touch, wrap my arms around him and breathe him in. He smells like the outdoors, fresh and crisp and woodsy.
Without warning, Brody pushes two fingers inside me. I arch my back and hiss in pleasure as a storm of sensation twists in my core. Then his palm falls on my ass. “Six strokes,” he announces. “Two for forgetting to call me Mr. Payne. Two for taking off your shirt before you were told, and the last two,” he says, his voice turnin
g satisfied, “is because I want to.”
A shudder of arousal runs through my body. Brody smacks my ass twice, hard, in the same spot. I yelp, going up on tiptoe as the heat spreads through my skin.
“How many is that?”
One before he told me how many strokes, and two after. “Three, Mr. Payne.”
He strokes my cheeks, soothing the tender skin. Adrian pushes his thumb into my mouth, and I suck. My pussy feels heavy and swollen. Brody spanks me again, two more hard strokes on the other cheek. His hand curls around my waist, pulling my hips to his. I’m so wet I’m afraid I’m going to stain his pants, but when I feel the bulge of his erection against my folds, I forget to care.
“One last spank,” Brody says. “Then you’re going to sit on Adrian’s lap and pleasure yourself, aren’t you, Fiona?”
“Yes, Mr. Payne.”
“Spread your legs. Wider.”
I obey. Adrian holds my shoulders to steady me. “I’m going to spank this wet, swollen cunt.”
A thrill of heat spreads through me when he says that word. It feels all kinds of wrong, and yet, my pussy gushes in response.
God, I’m fucked up.
“And when I do,” he warns me, “You do not have permission to come. Do you understand me?”
Argh. “Yes, Mr. Lockhart.”
Then his hand falls down on me, hard enough that I’m rocked forward into Adrian’s body. White hot arousal blankets me, and I shudder as I dance on the edge of the precipice.
Frantic with the need to obey, I think about case files and bills and the conversation I had with the telephone company earlier. I think of anything and everything other than the desire dancing in my veins.
“Sit on Adrian’s lap.”
I kick my panties away and do as Brody orders. He looms over me as Adrian spreads my legs open, positioning me so that my knees are on the outside of his. “Please,” I whisper. “Please, may I come?”
“Yes.”
Thank heavens.
My pussy is slick with need. Brody’s watching me, but I am too far gone to be embarrassed about masturbating in front of him. Too far gone to worry about my juices staining Adrian’s trousers. Too far gone for anything except my desperate need to come.
Claiming Fifi Page 7