Almost.
"Don't make me use my belt," I said, darkly.
She laughed - low and throaty, and very, very aroused. It was so obvious, in every movement, every breath. She was about to combust, and it was all because of me.
"You wouldn't," she whispered.
"You sound so confident," I whispered back, letting my fingers drift up her spine and tug lightly on the ends of her hair. "You're right - but only because it doesn't fit the script. We have to be authentic, don't we, Ms. Hadley?"
"Mmm." She turned her face towards me, slightly, her hair falling down just enough to almost cover one eye. Licking her lips, she sighed. "We do, don't we? But you haven't told me what happens after this scene."
"I'll tell you...when I believe your performance."
I spanked her again. Hard. She yelped and cried out, she whimpered, she begged, but she never said the safe word. At one point, I hesitated, fearing she'd forgotten it. But as she lay there, panting, I could still feel the desire thrumming through her body. Even when the tears came, she never stopped wanting it.
"Howard, please!" she nearly screamed. "Howard, you're hurting me. I'm so...I'm sorry..."
She choked off in a sob that sounded so goddamn real, but I knew it wasn't. We were connected now, and I could feel her reactions in every breath and every movement.
Finally, I stopped. We were both panting, and I was going to have bruises from where she gripped my leg.
"You want to know what happens next?" I whispered, my hand resting where it last landed, fingers dipping tantalizingly close to her molten heat. "He realizes she's a liar, because she really loves being spanked. He fingers her until she comes. So. Damn. Hard."
She gasped, whispering yes under her breath. I wasn't sure she even realized it.
"Then," I went on, "he throws her down on the bed and he fucks her senseless. What do you think, Ms. Hadley? You wanna seal the deal? You want one last chance to prove yourself? Guarantee you get this part?"
"Yes, yes," she nearly sobbed. "Oh, God. Ben..."
I was going to let that slide. My fingers dipped down where she wanted them, rubbing her through the damp lace. She'd soaked through, leaving a wet mark on my jeans. I grinned viciously. "Looks like you've made a mess on my pants, Miss Hadley. You'll have to be punished for that later, don't you think? It's only fair."
All she could do was moan and quiver, her body drawing bowstring-tight as I rubbed her hard and fast. This was no time for teasing. She was ready to explode, and so was I.
Within moments her eyes went glassy, her body convulsing on mine as her fingers dug into my leg muscle so hard I winced. But I could hardly feel any pain. She gushed, like she had before, utterly soaking through my jeans and crying my name as her limbs quivered and jerked.
I didn't give her a chance to recover before I stood, picking her up with me, and dropping her on the bed like I'd promised. She sprawled, still gasping, while I fumbled with the fucking condoms and tried to undo my jeans one-handed. Weak and boneless, she still managed to push her panties out of the way while I sheathed myself and loomed over her.
I sank in deep with one smooth, quick thrust. She let out an unearthly moan, locking her ankles around my waist and tilting her pelvis to meet my every movement. I'd thought this wouldn't last long, but now that I was finally where I wanted to be, it was like my body wanted to prolong the experience as much as possible.
She was so tight, her body stretching to accommodate me. I sank in deep again, all the way, and paused with my forehead resting against hers.
Fuck me, I was in trouble.
Everything about her was perfect. Every cell of my body, except for that one intelligent part of my brain holding court in the very top of my skull, was utterly and completely in love with this woman. I was having feelings for her - very real feelings, not just the usual I'm about to come so everything seems like a good idea feelings.
More like, this could be real if only we hadn't met when I was looking for a fake wife feelings.
God damn it.
God damn it.
God...
I came inside her, and it felt like the beginning of the end.
Either that, or the end of the beginning.
I could never be quite sure.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Jenna
I woke up curled in Ben's arms.
After our utterly explosive roleplay, he'd tenderly washed me in the shower, then dried me with a fluffy towel and bundled me up in bed. It was our last day in wine country, but as long as I stayed burrowed under the covers with him, I could pretend this might last forever.
We took a short hike after breakfast, breathing in the last few lungfuls of fresh air at a picnic lunch on the water. Ben threw bread crusts to the ducks, and I scolded him, and I wished we could stay here for just one more day.
"I actually think I'm going to miss this place," I said, as we loaded our bags into the rental car.
"Actually?" Ben echoed. "Why, did you expect something less than perfect from Mr. Perfect Billionaire?"
"I guess I didn't know what to expect." I climbed into the passenger seat, slumping down with my forehead against the window. "But it sure grows on you."
The luxury plane felt a little less welcoming, now that it was taking me back to real life. I sighed, watching Ben pour himself a gin and tonic from the bar before he sat down next to me.
After takeoff, he suddenly shifted, reaching into his jacket pocket. "I almost forgot," he said. "The whole reason we came here."
Curious, I sat up. I'd actually forgotten when he told me at the restaurant before we left, until I noticed he was holding a little black box.
"Oh," I said, then, quieter: "Oh."
"It's not much," he said. "I didn't think you'd want something ostentatious."
I opened the box slowly, feeling my throat tighten. The ring was delicate and beautiful, with a few nested diamonds and a little gold design surrounding them. It was exactly the kind of ring I would have picked for myself.
For the love of God, do not get emotional over this.
But it wasn't the ring, not really. The ring was the last straw in my emotional roller coaster of a weekend, and I cared deeply about this ridiculous man and I didn't want him to die young and I really, really didn't want to keep on pretending to love him when it was so close to the truth.
"Sorry if it's..." He made a gesture whose meaning I couldn't guess at. "I don't know. I thought you'd like it."
"I like it," I said, softly. "Should I, um, should I put it on?"
"Before we land, yeah, ideally." Seeing me still frozen, he plucked the box from my hand. "Here. Let me."
Yes, this felt right. I wanted to keep on pretending for a little while.
As the cool metal slid on my skin, I was struck with an irresistible urge to kiss him.
So I did.
He seemed surprised for a moment, then he warmed to it. I broke away, and he only raised his eyebrows slightly when I climbed out of my seat and stood in front of him. Leaning forward, using his tie for a bit of leverage, I let my body slide down his, loving the site of him slowly understanding what I wanted.
Eyes fixed on my face, he was slouched slightly, one hand still clutching his drink even as it dangled over the side of the armrest. His breathing started to quicken.
"Master may I?" I asked, teasingly, with my hands on his thighs.
He nodded, exhaling sharply.
I didn't think I'd ever tire of the taste of his skin, or the way he sighed and shifted his hips when I did it just right. This time he was more aggressive with me, grabbing my hair and holding my head still so he could control the pace, sliding in deeper than I thought I could take, testing my limits. He was watching me, waiting for the slightest sign that I was overwhelmed, that I needed him to back off. But I timed my breathing and let him take me. It was intoxicating. My whole body relaxed, glowing with acceptance.
When he came, I heard the glass clink to the floor, rolling aw
ay, leaving a puddle of gin and tonic in its wake.
"Good girl." He was still breathing hard when he released me. My whole body buzzed with arousal, and a tiny bit of confusion, because I was pretty sure I wasn't supposed to like what he just did. He smiled darkly, grabbing my hand and pulling me to my feet, and onto his lap. I squealed, then sighed, feeling his hand slide up my thigh, and under my skirt. "So you see, I'm not always a perfect gentleman. But you like me better that way, don't you?"
His fingers found their answer, and a short time later, they found me panting and moaning his name.
"You're so beautiful when you come undone," he whispered. "And now, everybody knows you're mine."
I'm yours.
I'm yours.
No one else's. Make me yours for real.
I swallowed all of my thoughts, everything I wanted to say, and just tried to catch my breath.
***
Jenna
"Have a good trip." I threw my arms around Ben's neck, hugging him tightly, even though no one was watching.
"I won't." He smiled wryly. "Can't stand these speaking engagements. But at least I've got you to come home to."
Even though we hadn't moved in together, I agreed to stay at his place and watch over the cats and bring in the mail. Harry and I were fast friends, and the more timid ones had started to venture out into rooms that I was in, but only if I sat still for a very long time.
I saw him out to the car, kissing him goodbye, and felt a very real tug of longing in my heart.
Back inside, I typed:
I miss you
And let it sit in my outgoing messages for an hour before I deleted it.
He'd given me the assignment of watching the movie Secretary, so I made myself a frozen dinner and settled in. Harry watched me curiously, not understanding why I was here alone.
"Sorry, buddy, I'm all you get for a couple days," I said.
The movie captivated my attention, and afterwards I spent a lot of time thinking about it. There was one scene in particular, when the main character was walking home, having just been given the order to do so. She talked about how it made her feel loved, just following his orders. It made her feel more connected to him.
I knew exactly how that felt.
Ben called me after he'd settled in at his hotel. Even though we often went a long time without speaking, I found myself counting down the hours until my phone rang.
I was feeling frisky. The movie had something to do with it, a few very steamy spanking scenes leaving me longing for Ben's hand. He must have been able to hear it in my voice, because his own tone warmed, growing a little more teasing and playful as we talked.
"What's wrong, sunshine?" he asked, with a smile. "I can tell you want to say something, but you're biting your tongue."
I had to gather my courage for a moment.
"One time, you promised me that if you had my number..." I trailed off, hoping he'd remember.
"Oh." He chuckled, quietly. "I was kidding. Mostly."
I licked my lips, which suddenly felt very dry. Damn, he wasn't going to make this easy. "What, you want me to ask?"
"Yeah, I want you to ask." I could hear the smug. "You ask, or you get nothing, sunshine."
Taking a deep breath, I swallowed the rest of my dignity. "Send me a picture. Please."
"You want a dick pic, sweetheart?" He was grinning. But I could hear the sound of his zipper. "Will you be good, the next time I see you?"
"Yeah." My heart was beating so fast, and suddenly I couldn't catch my breath. Why did I care so much? I'd seen it, I didn't need a picture. But I wanted him to do something for me. Something naughty, something transgressive, something dirty and sexy and wrong.
I expected him to ask for something in return, but he didn't. I just heard him pull the phone away from his ear, and I heard the shutter noise when he did what I'd asked for.
My phone buzzed in my hand, against my head, and I looked at the screen. My breath caught in my throat. God damn it. I wanted.
"How come you're so far away?" I asked him, softly. "I want..."
"Tell me what you want." His voice rumbled down the line, low and sexy, making me tingle all over. I wanted to tell him, wanted to put it into words, but my tongue felt tied. "Do it, sunshine. Do it for me."
"I..." I choked, the words swirling in my head but refusing to come out. Shit, why wasn't I better at this? Why did I freeze up when it came to Ben?
Because it matters.
Because you care what he thinks of you.
I hated the realization, and I tried to push it away. But there was no denying. The stakes were too high. I hated it when he thought of me as naive, virginal, and my inability to have proper phone sex was just another mark against my record. Ironically, that made it impossible for me to go with the flow.
"Come on," he coaxed. "I know you can do it. Tell me what you want. Do a good job, make it sweet, and I'll give you the reward you deserve when I get back home."
Oh, it was tempting. What did he mean, exactly? I pictured him nestling his head between my legs and almost whimpered out loud, but bit it back. Why? What was I afraid of? Hadn't he cured me of this, back in wine country?
"Come on." he sounded frustrated. "What's wrong? Just talk to me. I want to hear your voice."
And that moment, I did the worst possible thing I could have.
I hung up on him.
***
Guilt roiled in my stomach. It had been almost sixteen hours - not that I was counting - and he hadn't called back. I knew he was angry, and he had every right to be, but I wished he'd stop torturing me.
For all he knew, maybe my phone just cut off. Maybe it died, and I was frantically trying to get it fixed.
Yeah, right. Too damn convenient. He knew exactly what he was doing.
And I had a hell of a punishment coming.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Jenna
Ben was due home tonight, and I was a bundle of nervous energy.
Just then, my phone buzzed with a text message.
Black skirt, white blouse, nothing else.
An interminable minute passed. Then, another message.
Be home soon. Assume the position.
My face burned. I knew exactly what that meant. After watching Secretary at his behest, it was clear - I was to bend myself over his desk, hands flat on the wood, waiting for my punishment. And I was supposed to do it now, even though he'd offered no definition for "soon."
He wouldn't know the difference. I could wait until I heard his key in the lock, sit and read comfortably, or have a glass of wine to help my nerves stop jangling. But that wasn't what he told me to do.
Heart pounding, throat dry, I undressed, and found the clothes he requested. The tight skirt on my bare skin felt positively sinful, and by the time I'd finished, pulling my hair up into a bun because I felt like it completed the look - I was ready. My body responded automatically to the ritual of following his orders, knowing he'd be touching me soon.
But maybe not in a way I liked, considering how our last conversation ended.
Slowly, almost reverently, I walked towards the library. My thighs rubbed torturously against my growing arousal. Without being told, I knew I wasn't supposed to touch myself. I wasn't supposed to do anything except assume the position, and wait for him.
I wondered if I was supposed to be facing out, or facing in. He hadn't told me to move his chair, so I walked around to the front of the desk and stood. Stared. Waited. For what?
There was no reason I had to do this now. There was no reason I had to do this ever. I could go back to my room and change into my pajamas and text him and tell him I'm sorry, I can't do this anymore, it's not you, it's me.
I had all of these choices, but even as I stood there, seemingly suspended in indecision, I knew I wouldn't take any of them.
I would do exactly what he told me to do.
And I did.
The sound of my own breathing was harsh in my ears. The
rest of the house was eerily quiet, and I thought about getting up, going to turn on a TV somewhere just to have some background noise. Just so I wouldn't hear my own heartbeats. He'd have no way of knowing that I hadn't simply left it on by accident.
No.
The command was in my head, so clearly, as if he'd murmured it right in my ear. I felt as if his hand were actually pressing me down into the wood, his hips against my ass, immobilizing me.
Already, I could feel some of the guilt unknotting itself in my chest. Knowing he'd be pleased with me, following his orders, lessened some of the agony I'd been putting myself through since I hung up on him.
Since I ran away, again, like I'd promised I wouldn't. I'd asked him to punish me if I did.
This was all for me.
The clock was behind me, and I was thankful there would be no temptation to look. I didn't want to know. I just wanted to wait.
Every nerve was singing, my whole body on high alert. I'd never felt more peaceful and more vibrant at the same time, panting with anticipation based on just a few words on a screen.
I thought back to the first time I'd seen the words domestic discipline, and I almost wanted to laugh.
Almost.
When I heard his key click in the lock, my heart jumped into my throat. Instantly, I was trembling all over, a whimper lodged in my chest, trying to leap out.
All of this without him touching me, without me seeing him or even hearing his voice. His absence was even more powerful than his presence.
I heard him walking in, then I heard him speak - to someone? Was he on his phone?
When I heard another voice, my heart almost stopped.
"Right over here, or you want me to take them upstairs for you?"
There was someone else there. A stranger. What in the fuck? He let someone else in to carry his luggage, knowing that I was in here waiting with my ass practically hanging out of my skirt?
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