by Measha Stone
“If you can, get her to check in with one of the girls. They are going out of their minds with worry, and Alex fucked up really bad last night, so Alyssa is here, too.”
“Hands full of women trouble, huh?” Bradley joked. Kendrick grunted a response and ended the call, with another warning to use gentle hands with Erin. Bradley watched her through the patio door, finishing making breakfast. That woman needed many things, but being coddled wasn’t one of them. She had some answering to do, and he wouldn’t let her get away from it.
“I made coffee.” Her sing song voice surprised him when he stepped back into the kitchen. “How do you take it?”
“Uh. Two sugars and cream.” He stood beside the breakfast nook where she’d already put out napkins and silverware. With a smile she walked away from him, toward the pot of freshly brewed coffee, and damn if she wasn’t wearing the same smile when she returned to him, offering the cup. “Thanks.” He nodded and took the mug.
“It’s all ready.” Once he sat at the table, she put a plate of scrambled eggs, bacon and toast in front of him. It smelled delicious. He couldn’t remember the last time he had a home cooked breakfast. Typically, he grabbed a protein shake after his workout or just grabbed a banana on his way through the kitchen.
She sat across from him with her own plate of food. He watched with curiosity as she placed the napkin in her lap. Her eyes darted everywhere but his face. Again she was running and trying to hide. Well fuck that. “Thank you for making breakfast.” He hoped his voice would make her look at him.
Instead she shrugged. “It wasn’t hard. I hope it wasn’t too forward. I had to dig through the cabinets to find the coffee and everything.” Forward? Obviously she had no idea how much everything she had done since sauntering into the kitchen in his jersey had been the exact right thing. Not only did she cook, but she’d served him coffee. A little thing to some, but to him, having her make it, prepare it and deliver it was as intimate as a kiss. The fact that she’d done it all on her own, with no coaxing or suggesting from him only made the act more all the more appealing.
“Not at all.” He took a sip of his coffee and moaned. Perfection. “Are you going to tell me why you ran away this morning?” He sat back in his chair, folding his hands in his lap and focusing his stare on her. She shifted in her chair, keeping her gaze away from his.
“We don’t need to talk about it.” She shook her head and took a small bite of her eggs.
He gave her a moment then he sighed heavily. “I know you aren’t accustomed to answering to someone, but you’ll just have to get used to it. Especially if you mean to go on with this type of relationship later.” Just mentioning that she’d be moving on to another man, another dom, made his muscles tense. “Running away isn’t an option. You don’t get to hide your emotions or worries. You were upset about something after we had sex, and I want to know what it was.” She held her fork over the plate, her eyes still not meeting his. Patience really wasn’t his thing. “Don’t you think I deserve to know? It’s a bit of a blow to a man for the woman he just slept with to lock herself in the bathroom.” If he’d been a less confident man he may have been wounded by her actions, but he had already concluded there was something going on in her head that had little to do with him personally.
“You’re right.” She placed her fork beside her plate and smoothed her hands down her thighs. “I’m sorry. It’s just. I’ve never done that before.” Her eyes still wouldn’t meet his.
“Had sex?”
She gave a little laugh. “I’m not that sheltered. I mean I’ve never had casual sex.” Her next breath came out in a whoosh, as though she’d just unloaded a stone from her chest.
“Nothing we did was casual.” He felt a grin tugging at his lips, but managed to contain himself.
“You know what I mean.”
“How many men have you slept with?” He wanted to kick himself. There were better ways to bring up the subject than to just blurt out the question.
“Counting you?” Her eyes met his only for a moment before she refocused on his chin. He knew he should correct her, make her look at him properly, but he wanted to get through this part of their conversation first. He had a nagging suspicion he wanted confirmed. He nodded when she didn’t continue. “Counting you? Two.” She spoke so softly he wasn’t sure he’d heard her right. Two? Meaning him and her ex? Two!
“Jonathan was your first?” Dumb question. “How long were you two together?”
“Seven years. We met in college.” Her cheeks blushed, the tip of her nose more than the rest of her face. He wanted to kiss her there. “It’s not because of him. I didn’t freak out because of him.”
“You two were together a long time.” He noted more to himself. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea to suggest this weekend. Maybe it would have been better to send her on her way.
“At first I was devastated because I lost him. But the more I went through it, the more I realized it wasn’t him I was mourning. It was the idea. We were together a long time. He was comfortable. But,” she sighed, “he didn’t like who I was.” Her blush deepened, and she wouldn’t even look in his direction.
Knowing he wasn’t going to like the answer, he pushed anyway. “What do you mean?”
“After he left, I was looking through his office. His computer was still logged on, and I saw some emails.”
Shit. “What did they say?” His imagination could answer that question, but he needed to know how much that ass-hat had damaged her.
“Just stuff like I had no mind of my own, that I was always underfoot doing things for him, very June Cleaver.” She looked out the window, but he could see the tears lingering there. That fucker.
“You were trying to get him to dominate. Asking him what he liked you to wear? What he thought about your clothes, that sort of thing.” She turned to him with her lips parted. He’d been right. “By underfoot he meant you made his coffee, liked to prepare his meals the way he liked, kept your house neat for him?” He was an asshole. This conversation was making his dick hard again for her as the image of her bringing him his coffee lingered in his mind.
“I didn’t know it at the time, but yeah I think so. I think it got worse when Royce and Jessica started dating. I saw how their dynamic played out, I mean he’s not controlling like that, Jessica wouldn’t stand for it, but I saw the little signs between them. The subtle way he’d keep her from drinking too much, or stop her from berating Kelly for some stupid screw up.”
“I didn’t think you knew about them.”
She snorted. “None of them do. They think I’m too sheltered, too weak to understand or something. I don’t know. But I’m not blind. I didn’t know the terminology, but I guess I’d been trying to make Jonathan into something he wasn’t. And he didn’t like what I was, so there you go.” She worried at her lower lip.
He watched her for a moment in silence. How could anyone think this woman before him was anything but strong? “Come here.” He pushed back from the table and patted his legs.
Two brown eyebrows rose in question. “Don’t make me tell you again.” He lowered his voice, and she moved to obey. He guided her leg over his, until she was straddling him. “Put your hands on the chair back and don’t take them off. No matter what happens, if you’re in pain or you feel fucking awesome, you don’t move those hands. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered and did as he instructed.
“Look at me. You’ve taken quite a few liberties this morning.” Her eyes found his immediately, and he saw the worry in them. “First, Jonathan never would have been able to fulfill the needs you have. I think you see that now. I’m sorry it happened the way it did, but I think it at least brought out your true self.” She nodded. “You like service, taking care of your dominant. A lot of dominants love that. Don’t try to change that or anything else about yourself.”
“I wouldn’t. Not for anyone,” she said with more heat than he’d expected from her at that moment. “If I
had known this about myself, or rather had allowed myself to explore it, Jonathan and I wouldn’t have been together so long. I can’t change for anyone. I have to be me.” A small part of him wished her friends could see her at that moment. Straddling his lap, obeying his commands, and not showing one ounce of weakness. He wasn’t oblivious though. There was still a vulnerability to her.
He placed his palms on her bare knees. “Now about running away.” Her smooth skin beckoned him as he slid his hands up her thighs. “I do not tolerate hiding, and you knew that.” He brushed his fingertips over her bare stomach, feeling the twitch of her muscles at the tickle.
“I’m sorry.” Through lowered lids, she maintained eye contact.
“Mm hm.” With featherlike strokes, he brushed the underside of her breasts. Her eyes widened. She gasped at the flick of his finger over her peaked nipples. Another flick and another. Her eyes didn’t move, her hands stayed in place, but she had sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. “Good girl.” Another flick, harder this time, then he captured them between his fingers. “Such a good girl.” He reached up and kissed her chin. “Never run away from me again.” He increased the pressure and the grimace she blessed him with made his dick twitch beneath her. “If you have a worry, you tell me. That’s how this works. You don’t get to keep them and work them out on your own anymore. You give them over. Do you understand?”
A fervent nod. “Yes, sir!” The chair creaked behind him, beneath her clenched fingers. He released her nipples but kept them under his palms, rolling them around.
“Now, about you leaving the room without permission.”
CHAPTER TEN
Shit! She had hoped he forgot about that little mistake. When she had recovered enough control and reentered the bedroom, she’d been glad he had left. She didn’t want to face him. He wouldn’t let that go. He’d expect her to explain, and that she did not want to do. Most men would have loved to not have to address her feelings. Jonathan sure as hell never would have bothered to find out what was wrong once she assured him she was fine. Bradley wasn’t Jonathan. Bradley wasn’t like any man she’d ever known.
She just needed to separate herself from him, and keep her feelings from growing any more than they already had. This was a weekend. Just a little fling. She’d go home tomorrow, and everything would go back to normal. She’d figure out what to do with the house, she’d go to work, and next weekend she’d try out Top Floor on her own. Maybe Bradley would introduce her to a few men that were safe. The idea of meeting someone else, of him handing her over made her stomach turn. No, she’d have to make a clean break, and try to forget him.
At the moment there was no forgetting him though. His fingers tightened around her breasts, squeezing them until discomfort turned into pain. “I’m sorry, sir.” She wanted to look away and close her eyes. “You were gone and—”
“And you thought that when I told you not to leave the room without permission it didn’t apply because I’d left the room?” His nails dug into her flesh, and she sucked in long breath. His eyes dilated, he loved this, loved seeing her uncomfortable.
“No, I mean, I guess.” Where the hell was her mind? “I thought you’d be mad at me.” She couldn’t help but tell him the truth. “I thought I’d just come down—” She sagged when he let go of her breasts. The burn lingered.
“You thought I’d send you home now?”
Did he know how psychic he was? He should start a booth at the State Fair, make a few bucks. “I wasn’t sure,” she answered, arching her back, pushing her chest toward him. She wanted more of his touch, more heat from his fingers.
“Erin, when you disobey there are consequences. I wouldn’t toss you out because of it. It’s my job to correct and mold.”
“Mold? Like make me something I’m not?” Hadn’t they already discussed how she wasn’t going to change for anyone? Had he changed his mind?
“No. Like train you to be the person you want to be, the person you are, just more.” His eyes darkened, but his hands didn’t move, they rested on her thighs. “What do you think would have happened if you had married Jonathan?”
She thought for a minute and shook her head. “It wouldn’t have lasted.” His fingers trailed down to the inside of her thighs, but she focused on her answer. “He would have eventually done what he did, or I would have realized that I couldn’t be me with him. There was always something more I wanted, I just didn’t know what it was.”
“Keep talking. What was it?” One finger circled her clit, and she jumped at the spark of electricity it caused. “Focus.”
“I wanted him to be more in control. I hated when he couldn’t seem to make a decision, he’d just cow to me. He couldn’t even decide—mm—what he wanted to for dinner. Ah.” She wiggled on his lap as his fingers began to trail down her slit, opening her lips and rimming her entrance.
“Good.” He kissed her chin, then her lips. Soft pecks, not enough to satisfy her cravings. One finger pushed into her. “Now, about your disobedience. What do you think needs to be done?” Another finger entered her, as his mouth closed over her nipple. How could he ask her something like that while he continued to cloud her mind with all sorts of desires and fantasies? “Answer me.” He pulled the jersey up and bit down on the exposed nipple, sending a shockwave of pain through her breast.
“I don’t know.” She breathed out. “I guess, a punishment?”
“Does the idea of me punishing you turn you on?” He licked her taut nipple. “You like the idea of your man taking you to task for being a naughty girl?”
“Oh, god.” She gripped the chair tighter as his fingers moved in and out of her, his palm brushing her clit.
“I’ll take that as a yes.” He grinned. “What sort of punishment, do you think?”
She winced at that question. She couldn’t think. It was one thing to agree to a punishment, it was entirely different to sentence herself. “Whatever you think is right?” She put the ball back in his court.
He laughed. “No, that would be too easy.”
She tried to ignore his skilled fingers. “A spanking?” She’d never been spanked before. Not as a child, and sure as hell not as an adult. It looked painful, but she’d also fantasized about them enough to wonder if it would be as erotic as she thought.
“A spanking. Simple punishment. I was hoping to spank you today anyway, but I wanted it to be enjoyable. If I spank you now, you won’t enjoy it. I promise you that. I’m not easy and begging me to stop won’t work. I’ll spank you until I think you’re sorry. Not when you say you are, but when I believe you are.” His fingers disappeared, and she couldn’t help the disappointed sigh. “You have to agree to that, I won’t do it without your agreement.”
“If I don’t?”
“Then we spend the day relaxing and watching a movie.” She searched his gaze, he meant it. He wouldn’t touch her again, and she wanted him to touch her again. And again. And again.
“Do you want to punish me?” The question came out soft. She hadn’t meant to whisper it, but she was never very good at hiding her feelings. Especially when he continued to look at her with such intensity, such ownership. No matter her thoughts on being punished, she didn’t want to be a pity case.
“If you were mine, really mine, you wouldn’t have lasted this long without being punished. I wouldn’t have allowed you to lock yourself in the bathroom. I would have dragged you out of the shower and taken my belt to you right that moment. For leaving the bedroom without permission, I would take away all of your privileges. No clothes, no phone or computer, nothing.”
She swallowed hard. His eyes told her he was being honest, and if she were to be the same, she’d have to admit his firmness turned her on like nothing else. “All of that?” She tried for a smile but was sure she failed.
“I’m not an easy man. If you disobey, there are consequences. You aren’t mine, not fully, but for this weekend you are. You disobeyed. Yes, I want to punish you.” He took her nipples between his fingers a
gain, applying only half the pressure of before. “Now, answer me.”
“Yes.” She nodded. If only she could close her legs, maybe he wouldn’t know how wet his words just made her. She’d read plenty of accountings from submissive women who said punishments helped wipe away their guilt for their transgression, but she didn’t really feel any guilt. What she had done—running away—was rude, but like he said she wasn’t really his. Maybe if she were truly his submissive, then she’d feel worse about being disobedient. At the moment, she only felt the twinge of remorse at having to spend the moments dealing with a punishment instead of eating her breakfast. But if the spanking turned her on half as much as the idea of it did, she wouldn’t regret any of it.
“Go get me a wooden spoon from the kitchen.” He helped her to slide off his lap, giving her a slap to her ass as she walked away. A wooden spoon? It didn’t sound very sexy. It sounded more like a kinky version of I Love Lucy. She padded her way across the ceramic tiles to the drawer where she’d found the other utensils. Feeling his eyes on her, she chanced a look up at him. His lips had thinned in her absence, his hands still rested in his lap, but tension could be seen in his shoulders. “I don’t like waiting, Erin.”
She went back to her search and found one that appeared to be sturdy enough not to break, but not thick enough to hurt overly much. Spoon clutched in hand, she headed back over to him. He’d pushed his chair back from the table and held out his hand. Placing the spoon in his hand, she stepped back half an inch. Now that he was armed, she wasn’t as sure about the entire thing.
“You don’t look like a woman about to be punished.” He mused. “You look like a woman who’s never been punished before, but has always craved it. So much so that you’ve romanticized it.” The tapping of the spoon against his palm distracted her, but his sharp tone brought her back around. “Is that right?”