His Firm Direction

by Alexis Alvarez

  He took off his jeans, keeping his eyes on her, and she lowered her lids. She felt floaty and exuberant, full of endorphins and magic and sparkles, her body zinging with pleasure.

  He was hard and firm, his cock pointing up to his belly. He straddled her, then bent down to kiss her lips. “Tell me how turned on you are,” he demanded, his voice low, his eyes flashing. “When I made you bend over and take my belt, when I turned your ass red, I could see your pussy getting wetter and wetter. Tell me what you want, Cleo.”

  She groaned in frustration. “Please, just fuck me. You’ve made me wait so long, I can’t take it. Just please, I want you so bad. Yes, your spanking turned me on. It did. I admit it.” She was ready to cry with need.

  “You want my dick, is that right? In your pussy?”

  “Yes!” She grabbed at his shoulders and pulled him toward her. “Right now.”

  “You think you’ve earned it, by sucking me off and accepting a good hard spanking? And you’ll do that again next time when I ask?”

  “Yes, any time you ask, every time you ask,” she chanted. “Please.” She pushed her hips up in supplication.

  He smiled, then nestled his cock at her entrance. “You’re going to be my good submissive in the bedroom, aren’t you, Cleo.”

  “Yes,” she whispered, delirious at his touch, because he started pushing into her, inch by inch, until he was fully seated. “So good. I promise.”

  “You’ll do what I ask.”

  “Yes, yes.” She grabbed his ass, enjoying the hard muscles and planes of his body. “Fuck, you’re so hot. You feel so good.”

  “You too.” He bent down to bite her nipple, then sucked. “You ready to come now, Cleo?”

  Without waiting for a reply, he started to pump her, slowly at first, then with more power and passion. Each thrust drove his cock directly into the spot that made her wild, and he brushed her clit with his fingers at the same time, and it was only a few seconds before she was bucking her hips madly, dying.

  “I’m going to come,” she begged, “please let me.” She realized that she loved asking to come, because just the idea of needing to ask was so dirty and wrong and provocative, and it was enough to make her orgasm even without all the friction.

  “You can come,” he offered, and rubbed her clit just as he gave a powerful thrust, and she screamed and shot her hips up as far as she could into his body, letting herself go, convulsing around him with the power of her release. He came too, grabbing her hips to pull her even further onto his cock. After all the waiting, the release was the most glorious, soul-splitting sensation she could ever have imagined. Just as the first orgasm trailed off, she launched into the beginnings of another one, or maybe it was just an extension of the first one. She moaned, grappling at him, digging in with her nails, screwing up her face with the exquisite effort of hitting just the right spot, because this second one—although it promised to overwhelm the first in strength—was shy, lurking, and she needed him to rub just the right place.

  “Again?” he asked.

  “No, I don’t know.” Frustration filled her. “It will take a long time. I can’t usually, a second time, not without a ton of help.” Plus, he was already losing his erection post orgasm. Rushing always made it impossible.

  “We have all night, Cleo,” he reassured her. “And there’s nothing I’d rather do than see you come apart again.”

  She sucked in a breath. “Really?”

  He seemed to know what she needed. “Here,” he said, pulling out his cock and inserting his fingers. “Ride my hand,” he ordered. “Find the spot. I don’t care if we do this until dawn.”

  “Mmm,” was all she could manage, as she twisted her hips and put up one knee. Because he seemed unconcerned with how long it might take, she let her mind blank out entirely, and focused on the sensations: The bed soft beneath her back, his fingers warm and firm on her body. Her nipples, tingling with pleasure. The heat rising from her head in the pillow as she worked harder, pumping her hips at his hand, a damp heat that felt like a jungle, lifting the scent of her conditioner into the air and mixing it with the scent of sex. She moaned, encouraged him with little whispers, until God—yes, that was it, with those two fingers inside, rubbing, and the other one just above her clit—

  She pumped his fingers from below. “Don’t stop,” she begged, her eyes squeezed shut, and grabbed his wrist with both hands. “Just there, yeah, please, please, keep doing that, please…”

  And suddenly without building, the orgasm swelled and crashed and she screamed, pushing into him hard, rubbing herself on him, panting and crying until she’d wrung every drop of pleasure out of her body.

  When the feeling subsided, she was still panting with exertion and so was he. She rolled into his arm and curled up for a while, enjoying his warmth, letting the afterglow settle over her. “You’re fantastic,” she whispered, floating. “So good at this.” The room was warm and dim and she felt utter relaxation.

  “I’m good at this?” He laughed, pulling her from her momentary reverie. “Speak for yourself. You blew me away. Cleo, you were perfect. Absolutely perfect.”

  “Really?” She preened along his body.

  “Yes.” He kissed her lips. “Fucking amazing. Dynamite.” He rubbed her ass. “And I’m going to rub some lotion into your skin, to be sure you don’t bruise.”

  “Okay. Do you think I will?” She’d forgotten all about her ass in the glory of the orgasm. At this moment, all she could focus on was the way her body felt vivid, alive, sexy.

  “No. Just want to make sure I take care of you.”

  She smiled. “That’s fine with me.”

  He sat up and grabbed a tube. “Ready? Give me your ass.”

  She laughed. “You’re insatiable.” But she rolled onto her stomach and wiggled her cheeks. “Go for it.”

  He tapped her across her thighs, a light touch. “You’re lucky I’m done.” But his voice was warm. As he massaged lotion into her heated skin, she sighed at the delicious cooling sensation. She wasn’t in pain, but the lotion took the burn down from ‘almost too much’ to ‘just perfect.’

  He got up and flipped the switch for the ceiling fan, then lay down and put an arm possessively over her shoulders. “See if that air feels good on your red little ass.”

  “Is it red?” She tried to peer around.

  “Yeah. Well, fading now, mostly pink. I can still see my marks, though.”

  “Do you think it will still be pink tomorrow?” She yawned suddenly into the pillow.

  “I don’t know, maybe in some spots. We’ll check together. Like a game of hide and seek on your ass.”

  “Shut up!” She punched his arm, giggling. “Gross.”

  “You weren’t saying that a few minutes ago. In fact, you were begging for more.” He bit her neck, a tender nip.

  “That was so five minutes ago. Try to be current.” But she gave a contented sigh and nestled into his grip. “I should get going, maybe, home, in a little bit?” she said tentatively.

  She didn’t really want to leave; she was content and comfortable in his arms. But she didn’t want to overstay, either, or make him think she wanted something more than he’d promised. When he didn’t speak immediately, a tendril of anxiety curled through her, ink into water, unfurling slowly like a fern.

  “No,” he said, just a beat later, his voice firm. “Of course not. Stay. It’s late. You can leave in the morning.”

  “All right,” she agreed, relieved not to have to think about it anymore, and snuggled back into his arms.

  Chapter Eleven

  The next morning, Axel was on the phone early, out in the kitchen, and she put on her clothes without showering. He knocked on the bedroom door while she slipped on her shoes, and she started. “Come in. Actually, I’m coming out.”

  She opened the door and almost gasped. His handsome face took her breath away, as did his muscular chest. He was just in jeans, barefoot, no shirt.

  He offered a mug of coffee
. “You like it with cream, right?”

  She nodded, accepted the cup, and followed him to his kitchen.

  “You staying for breakfast?” His voice sounded a little wary. Or maybe it wasn’t wary, maybe it was just curious. She couldn’t tell. It was weird how awkward this felt, after last night, when they’d both been so raw, so uninhibited. In the cool blue light of morning, she felt wrapped back up, prim, lots of layers separating her soul from his.

  “I have to get home to change. I have a day job, you know.” She snuck a glance at the clock, but sank into a chair and took a deep sip of the brew. Pushing back her long black hair, she wished she looked, or felt, more put together.

  The coffee was good and hot and she sipped again, then again, suddenly greedy for the caffeine, drinking it like it was slaking some intense thirst, as fast as her tongue could handle the heat.

  “I know. You’re an accountant.” He sat down across from her with his own coffee. His gaze was even. “But today’s Sunday.”

  “I have some clients,” she said. The coffee was just way she liked it, not too strong, but with the right blend of flavor and power. “I make my own hours. Independent.” She didn’t know how to process what they’d done. It was so intimate!—and now she had to work with him again, after he’d laid her bare, body and soul. It was too much.

  “What time do you need to meet your first appointment?”

  “Ten a.m. So I need to go now, to shower and get ready.”

  He nodded. “I’m glad you stayed.” His voice was low and sexy. “I enjoyed last night. I hope you choose to do this again, with me.”

  When she didn’t answer, he touched her hand. “Cleo?” His tone was even, but his face serious.

  “I enjoyed it, too.” She bit her lip. “But it was also… overwhelming. The whole submissive and punishment thing. I need time to think.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “It might need some time. We should talk about it right now, at least a little, though.”

  “Maybe later.”

  “What we did was pretty powerful. It’s important to do a debrief, see how you felt.” He gave her a serious look. “And we can keep it separate from work. Nobody there needs to know what we do after hours—it’s nobody’s business but ours. At the theater, I’m your boss and your director. Here, I’m your boss in an entirely different way.”

  He chuckled, and the look on his face sent a spire of arousal through her, but it wasn’t enough to cut through the day ahead of her; not just the one day, but all of them.

  She nodded, sipped her coffee, then stood up. “I need to head out.” She took a last sip and stood, glancing around for her purse.

  He frowned, but got up and came to her, took both of her hands in his. “All right. Have a good day,” he said firmly, and gave her a quick kiss on the lips.

  A sudden surge of tears had her blinking. “Oh, is that an order, Boss?” She sniffed, wiping at her eyes with her fingers. She was horrified at her reaction, surprised, but she turned to him, imploring. “Have a good day? What am I supposed to do with that?”

  “What do you mean?” He looked confused, wrinkled his brow. “You said you have work, right?”

  “Oh, now I’m in control again?” Her voice came out harder.

  “Oh.” He nodded. “Okay. About that.” He took a deep breath and gave a small half-smile. “So you do want to talk about it.”

  “Yeah, I guess maybe I do, after all.” She crossed her arms, not even sure why she was mad, if she was mad. “The rest of the day.” She narrowed her eyes. “My butt is a little sore. I mean, what do you want from me now? Do you want me to be all submissive all day or something? Do I have to request permission to enjoy my day?”

  Her tone said she certainly wasn’t going to do that. But something in her stomach roiled with fear: What if he did want that, something she could or would never give?

  She’d lose respect for him if he wanted that, and she didn’t want to lose respect for him. It was so complicated and messy. Fuck, if he said the wrong thing now? She’d hate him, and then how in the hell would she possibly be able to work with him for the rest of the play? God, this had been a terrible mistake. A sexy, passionate, ridiculous, stupid mistake. Martin was right; she was going to fuck up the play and—

  He shook his head, and his words filled her with relief. “I can’t tell you how to enjoy your day or not, but here’s what I hope. Okay? I hope, Cleo, that you have a fucking fantastic day. I hope that you walk around with joy in your step and a smile on your face, taking charge of every situation you’re in, and enjoying the fact that you’re alive. That last night gave you some wicked energy and passion that carries through to today, and the rest of the week. I hope that every time you feel your ass, you think of my hand and my body and how good it’s going to feel to get fucked and spanked again next time we’re together.”

  “Okay.” Her voice was small, but she smiled.

  He nodded, and continued. “You’re always in control,” he reminded her in a low voice, taking both of her cheeks in his hands. “Don’t you forget that, Cleo. You’re in control of how much control you give me, right? If you choose to give me your submission, I’m going to take it, and I’m going to love it. If you need to stop giving it, or change the style, then you do that.”

  “Oh, so you’re saying you want to spank me again?” Reassured by his words, she ran a hand over his chest and then his abs, enjoying the muscles and planes of his perfect form. He tugged her closer.

  His voice was firm. “Do I? Yeah. But if you want to do this again, you need to tell me. Tell me that you want me to spank you again,” he lowered his voice and bit her neck, “when you’re bad, or when you break my rules. And fuck you when you’re very, very good. Tell me that you want to be my submissive and do what I say.”

  Her stomach fluttered with excitement and new arousal. “Fine. I want you…” she blurted out the words, “to spank me. To dominate me.” This was probably a very bad idea. She shouldn’t have done it once—let alone make plans to do it again. But she couldn’t resist him.

  “Look me in the eye and say it. Convince me you mean it.” His voice was stern.

  “God, Axel, why do I have to that?” She scowled, but melted inside at his forceful tone.

  He tipped up her chin, gentle but firm. “Otherwise, we’ll stop doing it.”

  “I don’t want to stop.” The words came out before she could stop them.

  “Why not?”

  “Because having you dominate me like that, it’s so sexy. I don’t know, Axel. I don’t know if it’s fucked up or not, but I like it, okay?” Her voice was fierce. “It turned me on like I’ve never been.”

  “Okay.” He nodded. “Okay. Good.” He paused. “Did you like the mixture of pain with pleasure? Was it the right mix for you?”

  She nodded, then shook her head. “I guess so. I think so. I liked it.”

  He laughed and touched her ass. “Not too bad today?”

  She bit her lip. “Just a little tender. I wasn’t upset about the fact that it’s a little tender. Just wanted to make sure that you didn’t want me to be sad or something. It’s fine.”

  “Oh, I think it’s more than fine,” he growled, and pulled her into his body for a tight hug. When his lips landed on her neck, she mewled for more, melting into his embrace, and then he kissed her full on. “And I never want you to be upset after we’re together,” he added, his voice stern. “Okay? I want you to feel satisfied. Sexy. Craving more. Otherwise, what’s even the point?” He raised one eyebrow. “Don’t you think?”

  She nodded, and he took her lips again, kissing her skillfully, holding her face in his hands while he took her mouth with his. “See, that wasn’t so hard to talk about, right?” he murmured into her ear. “And we got some things figured out.”

  “Yes,” she allowed, and relaxed back into his embrace.

  When they broke apart, panting, his eyes were bright with passion. “Better get out of here before I strip you down and tie you up
in my bedroom,” he warned, giving her a light slap on her ass.

  “Not before I finish my coffee.” She smirked at him and danced over to the kitchen table, took a large sip. “You really are a master at the grind.”

  “You have no idea,” he murmured, “how many things I’ve mastered. Next time, I’ll give you another taste.”

  And it was all she could do to make herself walk out of that door to meet with clients to talk about tax document preparation, when what she really wanted was to sink back into Axel’s arms and do anything and everything he wanted to show her.

  * * *

  Her ass was a little bit sore; not too much, just enough to remember what Axel had done the night before when she first sat down—a little twinge. Then it faded and she forgot, got busy with her work, until she maybe got up or twisted a certain way, another hour later, and the images rushed back into her mind: His hand. Her ass. The phenomenal sex.

  Later that day, after finishing with her clients, she wiggled a little harder in her seat at home, clenching her cheeks to see if they felt abused and raw. Even with the additional stimulation, there was no pain. It was good to know—a relief, really—that a spanking, which had felt so hard and powerful last night, had faded to this pleasant tingle. Not enough residual sensation to distract her from getting stuff done, but just enough to bring sexy reminders now and then. Like smelling a perfume on the wind, only when the breeze blew just the right way from the flower fields. Catching a glimpse of a brilliant butterfly that flittered past at random, spaced-out moments.

  And now she wanted more. It was exhilarating to throw herself into the dominance and submission; to revel in it, then to step back out when she wanted, confident in the knowledge that he liked that too—both sides of her, her usual dominant persona, and her sexy submissive side. And allowing herself to be spanked and punished had somehow freed up the frozen emotions locked inside. It was a fucking rush.

  The question was, what did Axel want? He was clear about no real future for them. He wasn’t wrong about travel being a certainty in both of their lives, spinning dice taking them in random and unforeseeable directions, thousands of miles apart in space and even further in spirit, probably. How could you reasonably start any kind of relationship when you were in different continents, immersed in cultures so far apart that the languages weren’t even from the same distant ancestors?