"No, this is fine," Ben replied. "Thank you."
"My pleasure," said the other man. "You have a good night, sir."
"Thanks, you too."
The door clicked shut, and I breathed again.
For a moment, all I heard was soft noises, indistinct rustling, and it was impossible to tell what he was doing. Then there were footsteps. Closer, closer...then right past. I heard a few more unidentifiable sounds, then a few seconds of running water. More footsteps.
He was in the doorway.
Slowly, ever so slowly, he approached.
I felt his hand on my back first, sliding, up and over my shoulder, and down past my collarbone. It took me a moment to realize what he was checking for, and I lifted my torso slightly to accommodate his hand engulfing my breast. He squeezed lightly, exhaling, tweaking my stiff nipple just a bit between his fingers. I stifled a moan.
His other hand rested on my ass. Sliding down, to the hem of my skirt, fingers curling under and questing and feeling for the panties I hadn't worn, as per his instructions.
I waited for something, for a good girl, or maybe I didn't get one since this was all a prelude to a punishment. Still, didn't I deserve something for doing all this? For waiting so patiently?
His hands still seared into my skin, but they weren't moving. I held my breath.
After an eternity, he spoke.
"I didn't tell you to put your hair up."
Damn it. Pulse pounding, I struggled to find my voice. I'd felt a little cheeky, doing it - knowing he might disapprove, but he hadn't give me any specific instructions for my hair. So how could he get angry at me?
"You didn't say I couldn't."
His voice was hard, quiet. "I very clearly said a black skirt..." His hand tightened around one cheek of my ass. "...a white blouse..." His fingers pinched my nipple again, and I gasped. "And nothing else. But you're wearing a hair band."
"A hair band isn't clothes," I whimpered, trying to figure out why the hell I wouldn't just let him win. It was pointless, arguing with him - especially when all I wanted was to finish the punishment and get on with the rest of our reunion.
God, I'd missed him. I just wanted to feel him inside me, feel his mouth on mine, his teeth scraping my neck, my collarbone, as he lost control.
"I didn't say don't wear any other clothes, I said don't wear anything else. Period. That includes hair bands. Jewelry. A fucking watch." He growled, pressing his body against mine. He was so hard it must hurt. How could he hold himself back for so long? I was about to lose my mind. If I were in control, I would have jumped on him within five seconds. "This isn't that difficult."
"I'm sorry," I whispered, finally. "I didn't think. I just wanted to keep my hair out of my face."
I knew, without being able to see him, that he was shaking his head. "Too late. You could have apologized when I asked you, but you had to give me sass." With a sudden movement, he released his grip on my flesh, leaving me throbbing, somehow cold and overheated at the same time. His fingers plucked at the hairband, pulling it free and tossing it aside. Then he grabbed a handful of my hair and tugged, gently. Then harder. He released it, stroked the side of my face, and slowly made his way towards my lips. I opened my mouth obediently, taking his fingers inside and sucking eagerly.
He exhaled in a quiet groan. A thrill of triumph went through me. Not so cool and composed now.
"I'll let you pick your punishment," he said, roughly. "More spankings, or no orgasms for a week?"
"How many more spankings?" I asked, breathlessly.
There was a smirk in his voice. "Does that really matter?"
Of course it didn't. I would endure any amount of punishment, if it meant a relief from this incessant pressure between my legs.
"Spankings," I whispered, in defeat.
He didn't waste any time.
I cried out, the impact jolting my whole body, stinging my skin and lighting every nerve on fire. It went on for as long as I could bear, and then a moment longer. I realized I was stronger than I thought.
One foot nudged against my ankle, gently kicking my legs apart. I knew what came next. Whining with anticipation, I arched my lower back as far as it could go, presenting myself to him like an animal in heat. I heard his low, dark chuckle as he unzipped.
I would never tired tired of this feeling. The skin on my ass throbbing with heat and pain, everything between my legs slick and swollen and screaming for attention.
"Very pretty," he rumbled, grabbing my waist and pulling me tight against him, so his hardness was trapped between my cheeks. "But not like this, tonight. I need to see your face."
He turned me around, hoisting me up onto the desk so that my ass just barely hung over the edge. It was the perfect height. I wondered if he'd chosen it for this. He kept my legs hoisted up with his arms, knowing he'd be able to take me deeper that way.
The soft noise he made, sinking in deep, was almost as good as the feeling of being completely filled. Briefly, he leaned over me, one hand stroking the side of my face, trailing down my body in a slow worshipful path. "I missed you," he murmured. "It was hell, these last few days. Not being able to hear your voice." He slid in and out, slowly, reveling in the sensation.
"You could have called," I said, softly. I was still feeling raw, rejected, because even though I understood his annoyance I didn't think there was any reason to give me the cold shoulder.
"So could you." He punctuated with a deep thrust, pinching my nipple between his fingers. I keened, rocking my hips against his body.
Of course, he was right. I'd been too much of a coward.
"I'm sorry," I whispered.
"I'm sorry too." He let my legs slide down, gently, so he could lean over and kiss me. "No more silent treatment."
Nodding in agreement, I gave myself over to the feeling.
As we climbed higher together, spiraling, losing ourselves in each other, I let myself believe.
As my awareness shattered, I gave myself over to forgetting.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jenna
I sat on the edge of the bed, heart pounding, waiting for him.
Although Ben had assured me last night that my punishment was over, he still wanted to "rectify the problem." I didn't know what that meant, but my nerves were frayed to the breaking point.
Finally, he walked into the room. He was wearing a dark gray suit with the vest, but without the jacket, sleeves rolled up, looking positively mouth-watering. He knew exactly how to make himself look irresistible.
He also had an armful of something, which he set down on the bed. I realized it was a set of four leather cuffs, meant to fasten me spread-eagled to the bed. My body reacted instantly, warming from the inside out.
"What's this?" I asked, softly.
He smiled. "It's time for your master class in acting. Do you trust me?"
I sucked in a breath. "Yes."
"Will you tell me if you need to stop?"
I nodded.
"Tell me what you think I'm going to do," he said, his voice low and tempting, as he leaned ever-so-subtly towards me.
I swallowed hard. "Tie me to the bedposts, with my arms and legs spread." I looked to him for approval. "And then, I have no idea."
He chuckled. "Very good. Are you ready?"
Butterflies filled my stomach. "Yes."
Quickly, efficiently, he fastened each of the cuffs to the four corners of the bed, and then to me. They were surprisingly plush and comfortable against my skin, but all I had to do was move an inch to remind myself that I was tied down.
"Your first lesson," he said, circling the bed, "is proper phone sex."
"I don't..." Blushing furiously, I tried to squirm out of the restraints. It was useless, of course, and I didn't really want out. I just wanted out of the situation, out of my own skin - my own stupid inability to do something as simple as talk dirty. "I really don't know how."
He quirked an eyebrow at me, his hand still resting casually on h
is lap, drawing my gaze and driving me slowly insane. "You're an actor, Jenna."
Helpless, I just stared, my eyes pleading with him to end this game. It was ridiculous. It was horrible. And I was going to make an even bigger fool out of myself than I had on the phone.
"I'm not, though," I said, softly. Surrendering to the realization, I went limp on the bed, my head flopping back on the pillow. "I never will be. And you're really not helping."
"I'm not trying to help you," he growled, standing up suddenly and striding over to me. He knelt down by the bed, lowering his head to just inches from mine. With two steady fingers, he guided my face towards his. "You're doing this for me, and only for me. Do you understand? I want you to do this. I need you to talk to me like you really want me. I have to hear the filth spilling from your lips - everything I know you're thinking, but you can't bring yourself to say."
My breath caught in my throat. His words went straight to my core, and I clenched and heated at the sound of his voice. "Yes," I whispered. "I understand."
"Good." He rose, pacing around the perimeter of the bed with his hands behind his back. "Now. Because I'm feeling particularly generous tonight, I'm going to guide you."
Guide me? What did that mean? And how pathetic was it that an aspiring actor actually needed help?
I always did suck at improv.
Taking a deep breath, I watched him pace, marveling at the way his body moved under his suit, the whispering of the expensive fabric as he walked the same path over and over again. Finally, he glanced at me.
"Close your eyes," he said, quietly.
I did.
Instantly, I was hyper-aware of his presence, as if the inability to see him just made him loom larger. His presence filled the room, palpable, stealing my breath. I tried to calm my rabbiting heart, but it was impossible. No audition had ever made more nervous than I was now, so painfully self-conscious, trying to please a man who didn't even care about me.
That's not true. You know it's not true.
"Keep your eyes closed." The sound of his voice flowed over me, smooth like silk, and I sighed. Trying to relax. "If you think you'll be tempted to open them, I can blindfold you. Do you think that will be necessary, sunshine?"
I shook my head.
"Answer me out loud." His tone was firm, leaving no room for protests or excuses. "Say 'yes, Sir' if you understand." I could hear the capital S, just the way he said the word.
My heart threatened to burst out of my chest. "Yes, Sir." I took a deep breath, trying to remember the original question. "No, Sir. That won't be necessary."
"Good." There was a smile in his voice. "Tell me how you feel, sunshine."
"I..." I'd started speaking, because I felt compelled to, but I had no idea what I was going to say. "I'm nervous. I'm scared of what's going to happen."
"Why?" He sounded very close now, like he'd knelt down by my head again. "Are you scared of me, sunshine?"
Every time he called me that, my heart skipped a beat. "I'm not scared of you," I whispered. "I'm scared of disappointing you."
His fingers brushed against my cheek. I was right - he was close by. My body jumped slightly, not anticipating the touch, but I soon warmed to it. "You don't need to be afraid of that. You can't disappoint me, as long as you try."
I didn't quite believe him, but I just nodded. "Yes, Sir."
"Sunshine."
I shivered, unable to suppress it.
"What was that? Do you like it when I call you..." He hesitated, and again, I could hear him smiling. "...sunshine?"
Swallowing hard, I answered him. "Yes, Sir."
His fingers travelled down my chest, running along the neckline of my dress, leaving a tingling trail of sensation along my sensitive skin. "I like it when you call me Sir," he confessed. "I think I have a similar reaction. Are you feeling a little less nervous, sunshine? Are you feeling a little warmer?"
I nodded, forgetting his order.
"Tell me," he commanded, raising his voice just slightly.
"I'm sorry, Sir," I said, breathlessly. "Yes, Sir."
"Good," he said. "Me, too. But I'm going to need something more than that, I'm afraid. You'll have to paint me a picture with your words. Can you do that for me, sunshine?"
"I can try," I said, honestly. "But I don't...I don't know where to start."
Suddenly, he stood up and withdrew from me. I felt the loss of his body heat, his presence, the scent of his cologne mingling with his skin. It was unlike any other smell in the world, and it made me remember the heavy sting of his palm on my ass.
Say it. Tell him.
Taking a deep breath, I spoke.
"I like the way you smell."
That didn't sound quite as good as I'd hoped.
I heard a warm chuckle from across the room. "That's a good start," he said. "Go on."
"Your cologne, I mean," I rushed out, wishing I could see him. My eyes were squeezed so tightly shut, and all I wanted was to watch his face as I tried to arouse him with my words. "It reminds me of the first night we were together. When you...spanked me."
My face flamed hot at the word spanking. It was still so embarrassing to say out loud, no matter how much my body craved it.
"What else did I do?" he asked, his voice a low, masculine rumble that heated my skin. The heat was growing, a little tingle between my legs.
"You...your mouth." I tried again. "Your tongue. You licked me. Until I came..."
He made a soft, encouraging sound.
"...all over your face. You made me squirt. I was embarrassed, but now it's all I can think about sometimes. You made me lose control completely, and I loved it. I loved how much you loved it."
"Tell me how you feel now, sunshine."
He sounded a little breathless. I wondered if I'd succeeded in my task.
"I'm so..." I shifted slightly, feeling the tug of the cuffs, and loving them. Loving this. "I'm so..."
Turned on? No, that didn't sound very sexy.
"I'm so wet," I whispered, finally, my blush coming back with a vengeance. "I feel like my heart's beating between my legs. I wish I could touch myself." I sucked in a breath. "I wish you'd touch me."
"Tell me, sunshine," he murmured, suddenly sounding very close again. "Do you think you could come like this? If I talked to you, told you all the delicious and depraved ways I want to use your body, how thoroughly I'm going to own you - do you think it would push you over the edge? Just the sound of my voice, and nothing but your imagination?"
My whole body shuddered. I was on the verge already, listening to him. I nodded, my power of speech stolen. Luckily, he didn't seem to care this time.
"Open your eyes," he whispered.
I did, slowly.
He was looming over me, his shirt hanging loose on his shoulders. He shucked it off while I watched, and my eyes drifted to his belt. I saw the telltale bulge there, and knew I'd won.
I must have looked smug, because he shook his head at me as he crawled onto the bed, kneeling between my legs. "You did well, sunshine, but don't act so triumphant. You're completely irresistible, even without your sexy voice tempting me. I got a hard-on just from looking at you, all tied up like a present just for me." He grinned, glancing down at the juncture of my thighs. "Goodness, you weren't lying about this, were you?" Almost dispassionately, he slid his fingers under the fabric of my panties and quested inside. "You really are aching for me, aren't you?" He said this very softly, looking up at me with clear eyes devoid of any games or meaningless flirtation.
"Yes." I whimpered, tilting my hips, trying to draw his fingers deeper. "Please, Sir."
"Please, what?" He licked his lips, his Adam's apple bobbing noticeably as he swallowed. "Tell me, sunshine. You have to tell me, or you don't get what you want."
My head was swimming. I wanted everything. I wanted all of him at once, his fingers, his tongue, and the promise that throbbed between his legs. I couldn't tear my eyes away, although he hardly seemed to notice it anymore. He
was completely focused on me, his eyes dark and predatory.
I was struck with a sudden desire, one that surprised me. I had him here, at my disposal, but I didn't want him to touch me. I wanted him to touch himself.
"Please," I said. "Untie my right hand."
He looked at me curiously, but he went and did as I asked, leaning over me to do it. I breathed in that scent of his, closing my eyes momentarily as I lost myself in everything Benjamin Chase.
"The next time you go out of town, I want to be able to picture it," I told him, feeling my heart start to race again. I just hoped he wouldn't be offended, or upset, or...something. "I want us to do it now, like we'd be doing if we were on the phone. It'll make it easier for me, next time I have to do it for real."
He looked at me for a moment, and then he smiled.
"Very well, sunshine," he said, softly. "That's fair. You may touch yourself until you come."
Instantly, I buried my hand between my legs, fingers gliding over heated flesh. I watched him as he unzipped, rushing to catch up with me. It was a beautiful sight, so much more captivating even than I'd imagined - watching the way his hand moved, the little hitches of his breathing, everything I missed when I was the one doing it. With my hand on autopilot, I was free to watch, to just drink him in. There was no hint of arrogance when he was like this, losing himself in his own pleasure. His eyes would close from time to time, blinking heavily, but his gaze kept drifting back to my rapidly moving hand.
With a sudden motion, frowning a little, he reached out and grasped my panties firmly. Shocked, I froze for a moment, as he yanked them down and away.
"There," he muttered. "Got a better view, now. Continue."
I giggled, then sighed as I followed his orders.
Now that he could see my fingers disappearing between my folds, he was losing control - and fast. I moaned, my hips jerking of their own accord, and the thick scent of my arousal filled the air. I saw his nostrils flare, and I knew he'd noticed it too. We were moving in concert, daring each other higher and higher, every little sound and movement pushing us closer to the precipice.
It was so terribly intimate, and we weren't even touching.
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