Coming In Hot Box Set

by Gina Kincade

  Curtis snorted, tension easing. “Not bad at all. Got a bump and scratch on her head.”

  “Glad she wasn’t scarred by it.”

  Curtis shook his head against Michael’s amusement. “She was, but it’s high enough to hide in her hair. The point is, she only knows what she has read and experienced.”

  Michael nodded. “I see. Still don’t see a problem. You can groom her as you like.”

  Curtis rubbed his palms over her face. “That’s just it. She wants to be…like Diane. I’ve never had a girl for more than a string of scenes. Especially someone so new. I want to say no without completely pushing her out of the community. I need to be…diplomatic.”

  It was Michael’s turn to snort. “You have to be one of the bluntest people I know. God forbid you try to bite your tongue when you have an opinion.”

  Curtis groaned and sat back in the chair at last. “I know. She’s a fan of Fifty Shades of Grey.”

  Michael’s expression turned stormy.

  “And I’ve been absolutely brutal in my denouncement of it. Somehow, though, even after all the things we’ve done, she likes that crap. She understands where the book goes off the rails, but the damn thing still turns her on.”

  Michael set his Caesar down and swallowed hard. “I don’t know if I can support you and a Fifty fan.”

  Curtis closed his eyes, leaning his head back into the chair and shaking his head. “I know. She’s adorable, though, and a fast learner. She’s so eager.” His eyes flicked to the woman sitting on the deck floor. “Like Diane.”

  “No one is like Diane,” Michael argued, earning him a beaming smile from his slave. “But I know what you mean. And if you shape her, you can undo any ill effects from her…pastimes.”

  Curtis had to chuckle at that. “It’s insane, and stupid, but I’m actually thinking of giving her a gift by recreating one of the less terrible scenes from the book.”

  Michael sat up, and Diane snapped to attention. “What?”

  “Of course, there’s the problem that I don’t know any of the scenes, let alone if there are any I could abide. I couldn’t get past the first two.”

  Michael relaxed. “Don’t do that. You need to mark her as yours, not Grey’s.”

  Curtis understood. “You’re right. Just wanted to do something nice for her. Something that would send her over the moon.”

  “You’ve got it bad for this girl,” Michael observed. “I think you need to distance yourself a bit. Maybe you should administer Diane’s punishment. She served me a cold breakfast this morning.”

  Diane hung her head and looked toward Michael with large, teary eyes. “Forgive me?”

  “I will,” he promised, petting her head again. “If you give Curtis what he needs to put this woman back in her place, under his command.”

  Diane nodded and crawled on her hands and knees to the base of Curtis’ chair. “Please, sir, punish me.”

  Curtis looked up at the blue sky and its fluffy white clouds. “Michael, you know I’m uncomfortable with you using your slave on me.”

  “I do. I also know you’re hot for her. She’ll give you the distance you need. Or you could set another date with Alexa, or one of the other girls you’ve played with before. I just want you to share with someone else before you go back to this woman who has found a way to control you.”

  He could see Michael’s point. If he wanted to remain dominant, he had to remember that Melody was a submissive, not his girlfriend. At the same time, he wondered if that wasn’t what he wanted.

  “Come here.” He patted his lap and Diane obediently slid across his knees, her ass pointed at Michael. Curtis began spanking her without preamble, and continued without words for a dozen swats. Diane was virtually silent as well, the smacking of skin on skin the only sound in the yard. What did he want? What should he do? He knew this wasn’t it. He didn’t want to be punishing another man’s slave. He wanted an ass of his own turned up for spanking. He wanted Little Song to sing for him while he pushed her to her limits.

  Did he want her there when he came home? Did he want her to make dinner and wait for him to get home to eat it? Was she ready for that? She was still so new. How could she know if she wanted to hand him complete control over her life?

  “Stop.” Michael’s voice was louder for the quiet between spanks.

  Curtis blinked and looked at him. Diane slid down onto her knees again, wiping tears from her face.

  “What was that? Did you even look at her? Did you feel her at all?”

  Curtis leaned forward, putting elbows and knees and holding his head in his hands. “No. I…I have to go.” He stood up and then stopped and sat down beside Diane.

  Her tears were gone now and she rubbed her bottom but held still when he noticed her. She yelped when he hugged her.

  “I didn’t mean to use you like that. I’m sorry. You deserve better. Michael will see to that.”

  “I will.”

  Diane grinned, pearly teeth nearly blinding. “I don’t mind. Whoever she is, she is a lucky girl.”

  Curtis scoffed at that, making his way back to the French doors. “Thank you both.”

  “Just be sure you know what you want.” Michael stood, his hand on Diane’s shoulder, the picture of Master and slave. That wasn’t what he wanted, not yet, but there were stages in between that would suit him and Melody. He just had to find the right one now.

  “I do.”

  Chapter Ten — Familiar Ground

  Melody shifted her bag on her shoulder. It was heavy with the change of clothes and miscellaneous toiletries she had packed to stay at Curtis’ place. At the end of his shift tonight, he was off for four days. He’d tried to explain how he needed someone at the end of that, but she didn’t need to understand. She just knew he needed her.

  Over the months, he'd made her feel more wanted, more complete, than anyone had before. He hurt her, but never more than she could bear, never more than he could counteract with blinding pleasure. She had learned to embrace the pain, not to let it pass so she could take more, but to use the sharpness of it to allow her to feel everything more keenly.

  She had thought Fifty was the relationship of her dreams, and in a way, it still was. Although he had taught her so much, he didn't keep her, didn't give her instructions or play with her outside of their scenes, none lasting longer than a few hours. Once he released her, it was over. He was gentle, friendly, warm, but not dominant. Having him over her during the day as well as the night... that was still out of reach.

  She took the stairs carefully, her heels not ideal for the weight of the bag. A shoulder knocking into hers sent her swaying to regain balance.

  “Sorry, Mel. Have a good night!” Destiny skipped down the stairs two at a time. She had just wound out of view when a scream and series of thuds sent Melody scurrying, leaving her heels on the stair.

  “Destiny? Destiny?” She slapped a hand over her mouth when she rounded far enough to see the younger woman in a heap at the bottom of the staircase. She tossed her purse to the ground and shook Destiny’s shoulders. “Destiny! Can you hear me? Are you okay?”

  Melody didn’t get a response, but the smell of iron reached her nose and made her gag. A pool of red was spreading out from Destiny’s head.

  “Help!” Her voice cracked and her throat became rough. “Help me! Someone help me!” The lobby became blurry and it took her a minute to realize she was crying. She knew nothing about first aid, so instead she reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. She dialed 9-1-1 and waited for what seemed minutes for them to answer.

  “What is the nature of your emergency?” The woman’s voice came through the phone just as Peggy trotted up and fell to her knees beside Melody.

  “Can you help her?” Melody asked.

  “Yes. Is that 9-1-1?” Peggy leaned down to put her cheek to Destiny’s.

  “Yes. Oh, hello, my coworker fell down the stairs. She is bleeding and not answering me.”

  “She’s breathing bu
t unconscious,” Peggy said. “I don’t want to move her, though. Her head is at a weird angle.” Peggy took off her jacket and slid it carefully under Destiny’s head, bundling it in front and behind.

  “Where are you?” the operator asked.

  “The Standard building, on 32nd. We’re in the lobby. Destiny is breathing but Peggy doesn’t want to move her.”

  “Suspected spinal injury?”

  “I don’t know. Do you think it’s a spinal injury?”

  Peggy was running her hands over Destiny’s arms and legs, careful not to move her. “Yes. One wound to the head.”

  “She says yes and that Destiny is only bleeding from her head.”

  “Can you see the wound?”

  “Can you see it?” Melody asked.

  “No, she’s laying on it. I’m trying to press it from the side. Gary! Get me the first aid kit.” How had it taken so long for someone else to come by?

  “How old is she?” the operator asked in Melody’s ear. “How long ago did she fall? How far?”

  Melody paid less attention to Peggy and Gary to answer the operators many questions.

  “How is her breathing?”

  That question forced Melody to return her focus on Destiny and the pool of blood that had reached her knee. The room spun and her stomach turned. Stars seemed to cloud the corners of her eyes.

  “They’re here!” Gary’s voice was urgent but seemed dim and distant, like Melody’s ears had been stuffed with cotton. She pitched forward as the nausea got the better of her and vomited at Destiny’s feet.

  “Little Song. Little Song!”

  Curtis’ voice cut through the cotton as no one else’s could. She turned and looked into his dark eyes, clinging to them like a life raft.

  “Go home. Get a blanket and lie down. You’re in shock.”

  “Sir?” she asked, her brain sluggish.

  “Lie down.” His command was clear even though he wasn’t looking at her any more. She slid back to the staircase and curled up around her purse there. She shuddered and tried to understand why she was sick when Destiny fell down the stairs.

  The whirling room, stars, and nausea swamped her, and she closed her eyes. She opened them briefly as Peggy shook her shoulder.

  “Mel? You okay?”

  She nodded. “Yeah, just…tired and cold.”

  “I’ll stay with you.”

  “No, no, I’m okay.” She got up and went to find her shoes. Once in her car, she leaned back in the seat and let darkness swamp her.

  ***

  Melody’s phone buzzed and it took her a moment to remember where it was, where she was. She was in her car. Her stomach didn’t bother anymore, and satisfied she wasn’t actually sick, she reached into her bag as the phone pinged with a voice message. She’d missed the call from a phone number she didn’t know. She called it back anyway.

  “Melody. Are you okay?” Curtis’ voice stiffened her spine.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m fine now. I’ll go home.”

  “Go to my place and wait for me. Knock upstairs. I asked Ruben to let you in.”

  She nodded, instinctively obeying, but she stopped as what he said sunk in. “I don’t know if I’m up for tonight.”

  His chuckle was low and lacked humor. “I wasn’t even thinking of that.”

  “Oh. How is Destiny?”

  “She’s going to be fine. I have to go. If you need to reach me, call Don’s phone, this one.”

  “Don, yeah, okay.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?”

  She shook her head to clear it. “Yeah, I’m fine, just waking up.”

  “How long did you sleep?”

  She pulled the phone from her ear to look at the time. “An hour? A little less.”

  “That’s good. Be careful getting home. Stop for a something to eat, please.”

  “I will. When will you be home?”

  “I can’t say. Not much past midnight, I hope.”

  “Okay. I’ll probably take another nap.”

  This time his chuckle was warmer. “Do that.”

  Melody dropped the phone back in her voluminous purse and dug around in it for her keys. Rather than eating in—Melody thought she might fall asleep in her food if she stopped that long—she hit a drive-thru.

  Ruben didn’t waste time talking to her. “You must be Melody. You look like you need a nap.” He used his key to open the basement door.

  “Yeah,” was all she managed to utter before stumbling into Curtis' apartment and closing the door. She leaned against it, sinking slowly until she sat on the tiles, her bag and sub on opposite sides. Exhaustion made her heavier than normal purse feel like a lead weight. Spotting the sandwich out of the corner of her eye made her stomach grumble. When had she become hungry? It didn't really matter. She tore open the paper wrapping and took two large bites, leaning her head back on the door to chew and savor. It was just cold cuts, but it tasted like veal.

  A beep made her start. It was from the other side of the door—a car honking. Sandwich bits covered her chest, she cursed and swept them into her hand, shaking the lot into the bag. She slipped the rest of the sandwich, which was still wrapped, into the bag as well.

  Long dragging steps brought her to the fridge. She dropped her sandwich inside and shuffled on to the bedroom where she collapsed on a pillow. Not even eight and she was done.

  The sound of a door closing woke her. After a few blinks, she recognized Curtis' room. The clock read 1:17, which meant he'd just come home from work. She stretched and jumped to her feet. All the energy she'd been lacking before returned in one swoop. She burst out of the room, catching Curtis half-bent, removing his sneakers.

  "Are you okay?" In two unequal strides—one foot was still shod—he reached her, covering her cheeks with his hands. Gazing deep into her eyes, he answered his own question. "You're okay. I knew you would be." His hands slid down to her shoulders, pulling her into a hug.

  She squeezed him in return. "Tell me what you need," she whispered.

  Chapter Eleven — What You Ask For

  He loosened his hold and backed up to look her over. "Take off your clothes."

  While she stripped completely, he pulled off his remaining shoe and walked to his toolbox. He came back holding her least favorite paddle and a bottle of lube. She squared her shoulders, puffed out her chest, and waited. He needed control of her, and she happily gave it to him.

  "No bonds tonight. You have to restrain yourself."

  Uncertain what that would mean, her brow furrowed and she looked to him for more instruction.

  "Put your hands on the wall there." He pointed with the paddle. Once her palms were flat, he nudged her feet back and apart so her ass thrust out. "Don't remove them," he warned.

  Bracing herself for the paddle, she squealed when his cold fingers dipped into her pussy. He teased, pumped, and caressed until her barely damp sex was hot and wet, his fingers no longer cold. He dragged his fingers from her pussy over her ass, spreading her own fluid over her asshole.

  He'd plied her there in recent weeks, using slender anal toys, plugs, and his fingers. She still resisted instinctively, but tried to focus on staying open for him, expecting his attention there.

  Instead she screamed, reaching a hand back to cover the left side of her ass where he'd hit her with the paddle.

  "Hands on the wall," he ordered. He seemed harder, colder than she had come to expect. She slapped her hand on the wall and gritted her teeth.

  Again, he surprised her, dropping lube on her ass and spreading it with his finger. Had he grabbed an anal toy? She didn't recall seeing one. She couldn't wonder long. The paddle landed, stinging on her right. She whimpered and flexed her hands on the wall, waiting for the sharpness of the pain to pass.

  It didn't before he hit her on the outside of her left thigh. Three more times he hit her, never giving her quite enough time to recover. She managed to keep her hands on the wall, but hopped and skirted, and flinched away from him, until she
was pressed flat to the wall.

  She whimpered and he pressed his hips tight to hers, pushing her flatter, squishing the flesh of her breasts and belly. She could feel his rock hard cock between the cheeks of her ass trying to enter her. "You are going to make me come. I want you to cry while I do."

  That wouldn't be difficult. Several tears had already escaped and trailed down her face. He backed up only enough to position her hips. He'd never used anything thicker than a couple fingers on her ass, but tonight it seemed he had more planned. The head of his cock pushed against her resistance.

  "Relax." His simple command was impossible to obey, but she tried her best in spite of the bruises.

  He slapped the outside of her thigh, where she wasn’t already hurting, and she arched her back, inhaling through her teeth to stop herself screaming. He applied continual pressure on her ass, so when she managed to relax the slightest bit, he was able to push a fraction of his head in. She immediately tensed again, keeping him out. She cursed herself. Why did this have to be so difficult? He wasn’t that much bigger than the toys. It had to be the heat in her ass.

  He dropped her hip to grab her hair, pulling her head back. He nibbled down her neck. "Let me in." He switched to thrusting, ramming his cock against her hole only to glance off. His thighs rubbed on the backs of hers. The marks there burned and throbbed.

  She sniffled back tears and wondered if she should stop him. But after only two such thrusts, he changed tactics, applying more lube and using both hands to pull her open. Finally, he achieved his goal, his cock head was buried in her.

  “There we go.” He pressed her flat against the wall, driving more of his length into her and once snug, he pulled both of them back slightly so he could wrap his arms around her, at her breasts and waist. He held her like that, squeezing her in a tight embrace that despite the bruises felt divine. His hand slid down from her waist to tickle and teased her clit while he slowly eased half his length out of her and thrust in again.