Switch

by Desiree Holt

  * * * *

  At one o’clock precisely, she stepped outside again, hoping like hell that no one could tell that she’d been aroused all damn morning. Jeremy’s PA, Lisa, had called to let her know they’d be taking on a temporary worker for the duration of Melinda’s maternity leave, not just Brian’s vacation period, and Nina was feeling giddy with success and filled with anticipation of her impending lunchtime tryst.

  Jon pulled his car up in front of her, and Nina slid into the passenger seat. “Guess who’s got a temp for the rest of the year?”

  He accelerated away from the kerb before speaking. “Well done. We’re going back to my place—is that okay with you?”

  Nina laughed. “After the morning I’ve had, I can probably take a two-hour lunch break without Jeremy pulling me up on it.”

  Jon shot a wicked grin in her direction. “That’s fortunate.”

  The drive didn’t take long, and within fifteen minutes Nina was standing before her Dom, collar fastened firmly around her neck.

  “Lift that skirt up for me, slut. Let me see that pretty cunt.”

  She did, revealing her lack of underwear. Her imagination had worked its magic all morning, and her pussy was visibly wet.

  “Good girl.”

  The praise sent shivers up and down her spine. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “Now, unless you want me to rip all your clothes off you and leave you with nothing to go back to work in, strip naked for me.”

  Nina shed her clothing in record time, and Jon ordered her to sit on the edge of the bed. By the time she had, he’d stripped off his own shirt, revealing that divine torso to her appreciative gaze.

  “I see the way you’re looking at me, slut. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking.”

  He knelt, pushed her thighs apart and nuzzled her mons, giving her time to lean back on her hands and tilt her hips to give him better access. He sought her clit immediately, and Nina murmured her pleasure, falling back against the mattress and stroking her fingers through his hair.

  Jon didn’t prolong things—he sucked her clit into his mouth and tormented her until she was writhing and half screaming with frustration. “Right there! Oh, my God…”

  He slid a hand up her body and pinched one of her nipples so hard she almost levitated off the bed. “Fuck! Oh!”

  She came in a rush of endorphins and dopamine, gasping through her climax as her pinched nipple throbbed and her cunt rippled with orgasmic reflexes. Breathless, she reached out for Jon, who joined her on the bed and pulled her into his arms.

  As soon as she’d regained her equilibrium, she rubbed her palm against the obvious ridge in his jeans. “Sir, if you don’t fuck me right now, I’m gonna have to put this collar on you and order you to do it.”

  Amused, Jon allowed her to strip his jeans and boxers from his body. His cock was warm and hard in her hand, and he thrust into her touch with a shaky sigh. “You know, I’m pretty sure I’m going to punish you for suggesting that.”

  “Take me now, punish me later,” she whispered, and he pinned her to the bed with a growl, grinding against her hip as he reached over to the nightstand for a condom.

  A few seconds later, Jon slapped her thigh, taking control again. “Up on your hands and knees, slut. Didn’t you say the other night that you wanted it from behind?”

  Nina kissed him hard, and for a minute he allowed her to slide her hands over his toned arms and shoulders, to explore his chest and abs all over again. “Did I give you an order, or am I losing my mind?”

  “Sorry, Sir,” she whispered, feeling anything but. Shooting him a cheeky grin over her shoulder, she got onto her hands and knees.

  “Liar,” he said, tossing aside the empty condom wrapper and moving in close behind her. “Since you’ve been so good all weekend, though, I’m willing to overlook your bad behaviour…on one condition.”

  She waited, whimpering as she felt the press of his cock against her pussy lips. He eased the head inside her, but grabbed her hips when she tried to thrust back against him.

  “Fuck! Oh, please…” The insistent need pulsing through her cunt almost drove her insane. “What do you need from me, Sir?”

  “You don’t come until I say you do.”

  Nina bit her lip, nodded. Could she really do this? “I’ll be good, Sir. Just please, please…”

  Jon laughed, clearly enjoying her frustration. He pushed just a little deeper inside her, hitting her hotspot perfectly, and she gasped her way through a wave of exhilaration, rocking back against him as much as he would allow.

  Something seemed to snap Jon’s self-control, and he drove deep into her cunt, startling a cry from her. Before she could plead for more, he drew back and thrust again, starting a steady rhythm that coaxed obscenities and prayers from her lips as he increased his pace.

  His strokes became fast and shallow, exactly what she needed. Her legs shook, and she tightened her pussy around his cock in an effort to push him out of control. Jon cursed and dug his fingers into her waist, and she almost allowed herself to tip, pulling herself back from the edge with a mortified gasp when she realised her almost-mistake.

  “Please, Sir, let me come around your cock. I need you so much, so, so much…”

  She could tell by his harsh breathing that he was just as desperate for release as she was. The idea of him hanging on just to tease frantic pleas from her lips was just too erotic for words. She squeezed her eyes tightly shut and held on to her composure by a thread. “Sir, I want to obey you so badly, but if you don’t stop I’m gonna—”

  “Do it, slut,” Jon growled, not letting up on her for a second. “Come for me, as hard as you can.”

  Relieved, she let her meagre defences fall, allowing the climax to sweep through her, to obliterate her thoughts and surge through her blood. She didn’t know if she screamed, didn’t care. All she registered was her powerful orgasm and the feel of Jon driving deep inside her, grinding his hips against her as he groaned with his own climax.

  Nina collapsed forward, and Jon somehow avoided crushing her, turning them both on their sides and spooning against her back. “God…”

  “Mm-hmm,” she agreed fuzzily, enjoying his embrace. For glorious minutes she drifted, aware of nothing but the satisfaction suffusing her limbs, her Dom’s warmth at her back.

  “Time is it?” she mumbled finally, as the sweat cooled on her body and gooseflesh began to sweep over her skin.

  Jon lifted his head, she assumed to look at the clock on the nightstand. “One fifty-five.”

  “Shit.” She struggled up into a sitting position, staring at the clock. “I don’t have time for a shower, do I? But I’m a mess!”

  “Looks like you’re taking that two-hour lunch break after all,” Jon told her, wrapping his arms around her waist. “We have time for a shower, slut of mine.”

  “We? If you get into that shower with me, it’ll be four o’clock by the time I get back to the office.” Even to her ears, the protest sounded thin and lacking in conviction.

  “I promise, if we shower together I’ll have you back there by two forty-five. And your boss won’t even have noticed, you know he won’t.”

  Setting aside her responsible self, Nina the submissive slut relented. The idea of hot, soapy water cascading down Jon’s delectable body held considerably more appeal than the documents she needed to draft.

  “If you insist, Sir…but you’re a bad influence and I might need to spank you.”

  He grabbed her by the hair, dragged her head back and gave her his best Dom stare. “Care to repeat that, slut?”

  Nina tried, unsuccessfully, to suppress her grin. “Not right now, Sir. Ask me again at the weekend.”

  He released her hair with a grin of his own, one that never failed to get her blood racing. “Get to the bathroom, dirty girl, or I’m gonna have to tie you to the bed for the rest of the day.”

  “Oh, really?”

  “Go,” he growled, pointing to the door with a scowl that
would brook no argument.

  “On my way to soap up my naked body now, Sir…”

  As she’d expected, Jon followed hot on her heels.

  About the Author

  Amy Valenti is a tarnished tease, and her mind has lived in the gutter since the day she realised what sex was. She hails from England, which she doesn’t find quite as exotic and sexy as the average US citizen seems to, but if people want to compliment her on her accent, that’s all fine with her! Her muses are many, fickle and very demanding.

  She has a degree in creative writing and currently works as a proofreader/copy editor. In her free time, she reads, writes and plays video games. On the rare occasions she doesn’t have a laptop on her knee, she loves to curl up with friends and pets—and chocolate—for TV show and movie marathons.

  Email: axvalenti@yahoo.com

  Amy loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.total-e-bound.com.

  Also by Amy Valenti

  Battle of Thrills

  Dominance and Deception

  Always the Quiet Ones

  Shocked

  Hidden Heat

  WHO COMPELS MY STRENGTH

  Lauren Gallagher

  Dedication

  To Marie,

  for being a total freaking enabler.

  Chapter One

  “I, with a deeper instinct, choose a man who compels my strength, who makes enormous demands on me, who does not doubt my courage or my toughness, who does not believe me naïve or innocent, who has the courage to treat me like a woman.” ~Anais Nin

  Telling the Rickmans we’re kinky has to be the biggest move my husband and I have ever made.

  You would think a couple who’ve been swingers for the last ten years or so would be cool with something like this. Most people we’ve encountered in the lifestyle are open-minded. Even if they don’t share someone else’s kink or quirk, they don’t judge. And Chris and Janet, while probably a little naïve for people who’ve been swinging as long as they have, have never struck me as prudish—by conventional or swinger lifestyle standards. You would think they could grasp the fact that I like Ian to beat my back raw, or that he likes to make me beg for my orgasms.

  You would be wrong.

  They didn’t outright call us sick freaks, and they didn’t throw us out, but the wrinkled noses and wide, horrified eyes said it all. We changed the subject, but the damage was done. None of us suggested going up to their bedroom like we’d all planned to do tonight, and they didn’t try to stop us when we bowed out early.

  “I can’t believe Janet said those things to you.” Ian’s knuckles are white on top of the steering wheel, but the car stays straight and at a reasonable speed. At least he’s not prone to road rage, though tonight I wouldn’t put it past him. It’s been years since I’ve seen him this pissed off.

  “I can’t believe what either of them said.” I stare out of the windshield, absently thumbing the shoulder strap on my seatbelt. “You know, I half expected them to say they were into kink. Blew my mind that they’re so…” I trail off, shaking my head.

  “I know,” he mutters. “God, they’re just…argh.” He smacks the wheel with his palm and, when I jump, he rests his hand gently on my knee. “Sorry, babe. Didn’t mean to startle you.”

  “It’s all right. Just wound up, I guess.”

  “Yeah, me too.”

  Wound up doesn’t begin to describe it. Of course, not everyone is into the things we are, but we thought we could be open with Janet and Chris. In fact, it bugged both of us for a long time that we were keeping this from them. It’s uncomfortable to feel as though we can’t share something about our sex life with two people who have, themselves, been a huge part of our sex life for so long.

  We’ve all been friends for almost half a decade, ever since the night we met them at a swinger party. Janet and I have been intimate with each other’s husband more times than I can count, and we’ve even done a little experimenting together. She’s like a best friend, a fuck buddy, a confidante…yet I never knew she was so adamantly against kink. We simply never talked about anything beyond occasionally playing with handcuffs or doing some light spanking. I guess I should have known, since she thought those were incredibly naughty, but I just didn’t have a clue she’d be so hostile about this.

  Not until tonight when we broached the subject, which we did partly because we felt weird not telling them and partly because we secretly hoped they’d be willing to join us.

  “You let him beat you?” she’d squeaked, her eyes wide with horror. “Bridget, why? Why would you let him do such a thing to you?”

  Chris had turned to Ian then, and said, “What kind of man hits his wife? Would you let her beat you up?”

  And neither of us had had a response. Maybe we were both just too stunned that our allegedly open-minded friends had responded this way. Maybe we simply had no answer. We’d changed the subject but the atmosphere had remained awkward, and our polite, hurried escape couldn’t have happened fast enough.

  “You okay?” Ian asks, patting my leg gently.

  “Yeah.” I rest my hand on top of his. “Think they’ll still want to talk to us after this?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to be around people who are going to wrinkle their noses at us, though.”

  “Good point.”

  Ian’s quiet for a moment. “Maybe they have a point.”

  “What?” I stare at him, eyes wide and lips parted. “Ian, you can’t honestly think…” I pause. “Do you?”

  “Well, I don’t know,” he says. “But I keep thinking about what Chris asked. I mean, would I let you beat on me like I beat on you?”

  I cock my head. “Would you want me to?”

  “I’ve…never really thought about it.” He glances at me. “Would you want to?”

  “You think we should switch?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe?” He shrugs. Talking quickly, the way he always does when he’s upset or nervous, he says, “Couldn’t hurt, right? I mean, why not? Just for one night.” He glances at me, eyebrows up, and runs his thumb back and forth along the seam of my jeans. “Maybe, once we spend a night in each other’s shoes, we can decide if Janet and Chris are full of shit, or if they know something we don’t.”

  For a long moment, I say nothing. I watch my fingers as I trace invisible loops on the back of his hand.

  “Bridget?”

  I release a breath and look at Ian. “I’m just not sure.”

  “You don’t have to make a decision right now,” he says. “It’s just a thought.”

  “I’ll think about it,” I say, and he doesn’t press the issue any further.

  It’s not even seven-thirty when we pull into the garage. This is much earlier than we’d thought we’d get home, since evenings with Janet and Chris usually mean staying out until well after eleven or even midnight, and we’re not quite sure what to do with ourselves. We go our separate ways, checking emails and going about our evening routines in opposite rooms. We don’t talk much. Maybe a few words here and there if we pass in the hall or bump into each other in the kitchen, but we don’t seek each other out. I’m starting to think we’re avoiding each other. God, I’m so confused right now.

  Eventually, it’s time for bed. We slip under the covers together, but we don’t touch. I’m lying awake, and every breath he takes tells me he’s still awake too, but I don’t say anything. Neither does he.

  This isn’t like us, this silence. But then, it’s not like us to be so worried about what other people think. Not even close friends like Chris and Janet.

  We haven’t been into kink for all that long. A year, give or take. From the very beginning, it has brought us closer. Our sex life has always been wonderful, but the addition of dominance, bondage, and sweet, sweet pain has elevated it to something beyond words. I have never been as aroused as I was the first time Ian put me on my knees, called me a slut and a whore, and raised welts acr
oss my flesh. I took to submission like a duck to water, but my penchant for pain surprised us both, and I can’t imagine ever trusting another man to do the things Ian does to me.

  Ian had reservations in the beginning, especially when he realised just how much he enjoys playing the Dom. The harder we played, the more often he came to me later with worries. Was he abusing me? Would he actually injure me in spite of his best efforts not to? Was I sure I liked this? Every time, though, we hashed it out and laid his worries to rest, and another evening of tying me up and putting me into blissful subspace calmed whatever doubts remained.

  But tonight, those doubts had come from somewhere else. Someone else had looked him straight in the eye and asked him the questions he asks himself time and again.

  And now I have doubts. Now I have reservations. Ian certainly does too, and I don’t know where to go from here. How do I lay his worries to rest when I share them?

  Is this unhealthy?

  Am I a spineless wimp?

  Is my husband an abusive monster?

  Intellectually, I know the answers are, ‘No! God, no! Fuck, no!’ But the doubts, the reservations, the uncertainty…

  Maybe, once we spend a night in each other’s shoes, we can decide if Janet and Chris are full of shit, or if they know something we don’t.

  Lying beside him now, neither speaking nor sleeping, I think he might be right. If there’s any way to put all of these obnoxious voices to rest, that might be it.

  I turn onto my side and slide towards him. He lifts his arm so I can put my head on his chest, and then rests his arm around my shoulders. We still don’t speak, but at least we’re touching now.

  Chapter Two

  As I always do, I get home from work an hour ahead of Ian, which gives me time to put things in motion. By the time he walks through the front door, briefcase in hand and jacket over his arm, I’m ready for him, but he doesn’t know that yet.