by Jenna Byrnes
His mind registered her offer, his senses slowly falling back into focus. Steve smiled. He climbed from her lap and stood on wobbly legs, extending a hand to her.
She stood, smiling at him.
They both knew the tides had shifted. He’d endured her punishment. His reward was to call the shots from here on out. “Pussy,” he whispered, still catching his breath. “Seems like a lot less work right now.”
She laughed and scrambled to her bag, pulling out a condom. Dropping to her knees, she licked the drop of pre-cum from his cock before biting open the foil packet and rolling the rubber on his throbbing shaft.
He clasped her by the shoulders and pressed her back onto the sturdy table in the room. “You’re mine now.”
“Yes.” She spread her legs in welcome as he guided his shaft home.
Steve sank into her drenched pussy and froze. As if they were made to fit one another, their bodies melded together seamlessly. A deep shudder passed through her and made him quiver, a physical reaction to the intensity of their connection. He sighed and pushed the hair away from her ear. “You’re the best, Ginger.” He nibbled her lobe and sucked.
“Aw, fuck!” She threw her head back as she came, her body jerking and pulsing.
He held her tight until her bliss peaked and ebbed. “Damn, you’re gorgeous.”
Ginger’s green eyes came back into focus and she smiled at him. “You make me come so hard. Just when I think it can’t get any better, it does.”
He drew her close and sighed into her ear. “My perfect Mistress. Everything with you gets better each time. I’m so hard right now, I’m going to explode. Fuck with me. Explode with me.”
“Oh, God.” She tightened her grasp around his neck. Her hips rocked with his, the perfect rhythm to a satisfying conclusion.
“That’s it!” he gasped, his orgasm bubbling to the top. The stinging fire in his ass became hotter, more intense. He cast a glance toward the mirror and the image of their sweat-slicked bodies slamming together sent him over the edge.
“Come now!” she demanded, not that she had control anymore.
“Aw…yeah…” He gasped, and shattered. The glorious climax pulsed through him in crashing waves of bliss. Euphoria finally trumped agony, and every nerve receptacle in his ass tingled with the most exquisite pleasure imaginable.
Ginger continued humping through what he determined must have been one last precious orgasm, then collapsed against him. “Yes, oh yes,” she murmured softly.
When they’d both caught their breath, she pulled herself up and looked at him, a sweet smile plastered on her face. “Are you okay? I might have gotten a little carried away tonight.”
He placed a light kiss on her slightly smudged, red lips. “I’m perfect. You were amazing. My ass burns like a son of a bitch, but it was worth it.”
“Let me rub some aloe lotion on you.”
“For that, I’d have to move.” He thrust into her pussy one last time and buried his face in her neck.
“If we were at your place, or my place, you wouldn’t have to go far.” She rubbed her fingertips over his back.
“I know.” He didn’t need to say more. They had an agreement, an arrangement. Their relationship had started with them going to one of their homes, but that quickly became too personal. The BDSM club gave them a perfect place to play, yet keep things simple. If that was possible. He sighed. Some nights he wouldn’t mind falling asleep nestled against Ginger’s luxurious breasts. But things always looked different in the light of day.
Groaning, he pushed away from the table, his cock sliding out with a slick plop. “Hate to go, but I have to. Early day tomorrow.”
“I know.” She sat up, attempting to compose herself. “Let me grab that lotion before you get dressed.”
He disposed of the condom and cleaned himself up in the adjoining bathroom. He returned to the play room and braced himself against the edge of the table. “I’m ready.”
“Want to lie down?” she asked suggestively.
He snickered, knowing where that would lead. Her hand, massaging lotion into his ass, would slip between his legs to caress his balls, and before he knew it, he’d be hard again. A delightful prospect, best saved for another time. “I’d better not. Like I said, early day tomorrow. Depositions in the Anderson case at nine, which puts me in the office at seven going over my file.”
“Okay.” She shook her head regretfully, and smoothed the lotion over his reddened flesh with care.
“Ouch!” He flinched.
“Hope you can stand during those depositions.”
Steve chuckled and pushed her away gently. “Hush, you. A nice soak in the tub and some more aloe later will take care of me nicely.”
He strolled to the wall hangers and began removing his clothes.
“I could take care of you nicely,” she murmured, packing up her bag.
He pretended not to hear the comment, and they finished dressing in silence. Each took stock in the mirror and deemed their appearances satisfactory. He zipped up Ginger’s bag, her leather outfit and accessories packed away for another day. “Ready?”
“Sure.”
He held the door open for her and hung the hotel-swiped hanger on the outside of the knob. ‘Housekeeping, please make up this room.’ Steve smiled and placed a hand on the small of Ginger’s back. Turning around, he brushed up against another patron, a man with short brown hair and dark sunglasses. He obviously didn’t need the shades in the building, but Steve understood his desire for anonymity and didn’t look at the guy’s face.
“‘scuse me,” the man said as they touched.
“No problem,” Steve replied, and led Ginger down the long hallway leading to the bar and the exit.
In the large, dimly-lit lounge, a bartender made conversation with a couple sitting at the bar, while other guests drank and talked in several small groupings of furniture. “Anything to drink before we go?” He avoided eye contact with anyone else, looking only at Ginger.
“No thanks. I’m tired. I’ll see you, Steve.” She reached for her bag.
He handed it over, placing a light kiss on her cheek as he did.
Ginger smiled and nodded, leaving the club the usual few minutes before he did.
Steve gave her time to get to her car and drive away before he exited the building, nodding to the man at the front desk.
After a short stroll through the parking lot, Steve pushed a button and the doors on his Lincoln Navigator unlocked. He glanced back at the building that housed Delilah’s. Nondescript, it appeared much like any upscale office would in that high-end neighborhood. He smiled. If people only knew.
Sliding onto the plush leather car seat, he grimaced, then smiled again. Nobody knew. That was the best part. He’d walk around for a week with a bee-stung ass and a memory that gave him an instant hard-on. Life was good.
Chapter Two
“Anderson versus Donatello,” Steve spoke into his dictation microphone the next morning. “The plaintiff asserts that on the date of—” a tap on his office door disrupted him and he stopped dictating. “Come in.”
His secretary entered carrying a large mug of steaming coffee. “You’re here early. It’s barely seven and you’re already hard at work.”
“Deposition’s at nine,” he reminded her, straightening the papers on his desk. He was certain she knew it. She was an excellent administrative assistant, one of the best employed by the law offices of Wilder, Duchene, Cannon and Associates. It’d been a lucky day for him when she’d walked through his door.
Moving to the side of his desk, she set the mug in the usual spot. In her other hand she held a square white envelope, which she waved. “This was in the mail slot. It’s for you, marked ‘Personal’.” She placed it on the desk in front of him.
He picked up the envelope and scowled. He didn’t recognize the handwriting, and doubted it was really that personal. “Probably a bill.” He tapped it on his desk and looked up at his secretary. Her stern appeara
nce never failed to startle him. With her auburn hair knotted in a severe bun at the base of her neck and barely a trace of make-up on her face, she looked prim. The high-collared white blouse she wore, tucked into a straight black skirt, almost made her appear matronly. His burning backside was a pleasant reminder of the truth.
“Open it.” She crossed her arms. “If it’s a bill, I’ll take care of it.”
He smiled at her. “Thanks, Ginger.” Steve slit the envelope with a sharp letter opener and shook it. A small, grainy picture fell out. He picked it up and squinted. “Well, I’ll be go to hell.”
“What is it?” She glanced over his shoulder.
He held it up for her to see.
Ginger gasped. “It’s a picture of you and me. Was that taken last night?”
He looked at it again. He and Ginger as they walked through the bar at Delilah’s. His suit was no indication, because he always wore a suit and many of them looked the same. But he recognized the blue blouse and jeans Ginger had changed into after their play session. “Yes, it’s from last night.”
“Who would have sent such a thing? How did they get that shot? Delilah’s has a strict rule about cameras.”
“I know.” He flicked the photo back and forth. “This is obviously from a cell phone camera or some type of spy-cam. The picture is small and grainy. You almost can’t tell who it is.”
“I can tell,” she fumed, “and you can tell. Who in the hell took that and sent it to you?”
“Calm down.” He spoke with a confidence he wasn’t sure he felt. “Even if someone can make us out, for all they know we’re in a bar somewhere. Nothing wrong with that.”
“I suppose. I don’t like it.”
“What I don’t like is the fact that there’s nothing else. No note or anything. I’m not sure we’ve heard the last from our new, camera-happy friend, here.
“Steve!” she whispered, and her eyes flashed with concern.
“Shhh.” He raised a hand.
Someone popped head first through his office door. “Morning,” Leland Duchene, another of the law partners, told them both. “You ready for Anderson, Steve?”
Steve glanced at his watch and lifted his mug, taking a sip of coffee. “I’m ready. But as long as I’ve got time, I’m going over my notes.”
“Good.” Duchene nodded. “I’ll see you in the conference room later.” He looked at Ginger. “Alert my secretary when they get here, will you? I’ve got Nan making copies and she might not see them.”
“Yes, Mr. Duchene,” Ginger replied.
They watched the silver-haired partner exit the office and Steve looked at Ginger. “Just go back to work and put this from your mind. We haven’t done anything wrong.”
She looked at him skeptically.
He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile, and watched her walk out. The photo bothered him, too, but he couldn’t dwell on it. There was work to be done on a very big case. He needed to focus and put everything else from his mind.
* * * *
The depositions went well, and Steve hummed as he returned to his office later that morning. He found Ginger pacing around her desk, lines of worry creasing her face. “What is it?” he asked.
She motioned toward his office and entered, closing the door behind them. “Look at these!” She held up three more square white envelopes, similar to the one he’d received earlier that day.
“Calm down.” He took them from her hand. “You don’t know what’s in here.”
Ginger waved a fistful of pictures at him. “Probably the same pictures that were in the envelopes I got this morning!”
Steve snatched the photos from her. More small, badly photographed images from the previous night. Another shot of Ginger and him walking through the bar, one of him handing her the leather bag, and one of him kissing her cheek before she left. “No notes?” He ripped open the three new envelopes.
“No.”
He sighed. “Nothing here, either.” The pictures were the same. “Son of a bitch.”
She took a step closer to him and her eyes widened. “What if they have worse pictures? Could they have taken any inside the room?”
He shook his head vehemently. “There’s no way. Besides, if someone has shots like that, they wouldn’t be dinking around with these.” He tossed the images on his desk and faced Ginger. “Just stay calm. Whoever’s doing this is trying to upset us, and frankly, I’m not falling for it. It’s going to take a lot more than this to ruffle my feathers.”
“Okay.” She took a couple deep breaths and appeared calmer. “I haven’t been able to spot anyone dropping the envelopes off. I’m going to sit out there and stare at the door without moving, just in case John Willie decides to show up again.” She moved towards her office.
Steve couldn’t resist a smirk. “Who’s John Willie?”
Ginger tossed a glance at him over her shoulder. “He was a pioneering fetish photographer and a bondage artist. He published a magazine called Bizarre back in the forties and fifties.”
“And you know that—why?” He blinked, trying not to smile.
She waved him off and stepped around the corner to where her desk was located. “You’d be surprised at some of the things I know. Just the other day I read—shit!”
He glanced at the stacks of files on his desk. “I know the feeling. I read a lot of shit, too.”
Ginger stomped back into his office. “Not what I meant. Look!” She waved an envelope in his face.
“Just in the few minutes we’ve been standing here talking?” He was incredulous. He ripped open the envelope and scowled. “This is a little too close for comfort.”
He handed over the photo of Ginger and himself outside the playroom as he hung out the ‘housekeeping’ placard.
She stared at it then snapped her fingers. “There was a man in the hallway, remember? The sunglasses?”
“Yes.” Steve nodded, trying to remember anything else about the stranger they’d encountered. “He had short brown hair. Some kind of pull-over shirt, brown, I think. Nothing fancy. Jeans.”
“Yes,” Ginger agreed. A nervous expression on her face. “He was in the hallway. You don’t think—”
Steve shook his head. “The door was locked, Gin. Unless his crappy little camera can see through walls, I still think we’re okay.”
“I’m not okay,” she muttered angrily. “I’m pissed. How dare someone do this to us?” She seemed to rethink her comment and revised it. “To you?”
“To us,” he told her. She’d been his secretary for a long time. He prided himself on not treating her like one. “Why don’t you go out for an early lunch? Take a couple hours, get away from here and relax. I’ll hold down the fort.” He gazed into her outer office warily.
“Are you going to try and catch the guy?” she asked eagerly.
Steve shrugged. “We’ll see what happens. I told you earlier, I’m not all that concerned. Now go on, get out of here for a while. I’ll see you in a few hours.”
Another woman entered Ginger’s office space and glanced at them expectantly.
“Thank you, Mr. Cannon.” Ginger said, all business as usual. “I’ll take care of this, then go.” She nodded toward the other secretary and headed that way.
Steve dropped into the chair behind his desk. He felt more concern than he’d tried to let on. Whoever was behind the photos was obviously up to no good. He couldn’t imagine one good outcome in all the various scenarios going through his head.
When Ginger left, he asked her to leave the door open between their offices. He had some work to do, but couldn’t really focus on anything too intense. Perhaps Steve would spot the guy if he tried to come around again.
People came and went from Ginger’s office regularly. He was amazed at how many people needed things from her. Behind his closed door, he’d always figured she worked pretty much just for him. With a view of her office, it appeared otherwise.
He had a sandwich delivered and after he ate, he paced
around her space. Neat and tidy, she appeared more organized than he was, for sure. Another reason he needed her. She kept him together on a daily basis, and he hadn’t even realized she was doing it.
Is that the main reason I need her? He pondered as he paced. Of course not. But it was a biggie. Ginger had been his assistant for seven years. They’d been sleeping together for three. He didn’t want to lose her as a sexual partner, they had too much fun. They were perfect for each other. Ah, hell…we love each other. Neither had actually said it, but the feelings were there, he knew it.
He couldn’t afford to lose her as his assistant. His days ran smoothly because of her. He was a winning, effective lawyer with a booming practice, and a large part of that had to be attributed to her. Steve wasn’t afraid to admit it. He was afraid of change, which was probably why he kept Ginger at a distance emotionally. Getting out of their homes, meeting at Delilah’s, had seemed the perfect solution to keeping things less personal. Now, because of his foolish insecurities, a stranger threatened to take everything away from them.
He sat at his desk and looked at the photos. That’s what’s happening. He’d seen enough cases of extortion and blackmail to recognize it. He just wasn’t sure how this one was going to play out.
Ginger’s office door opened and he saw her returning from her long lunch. A scowl creased her forehead as she walked on it to Steve’s office.
He smiled. “I’d hope you’d look a little more relaxed when you got back. It’s been quiet here. A bunch of people in and out needing things, but nothing from our—” he stopped talking when she held up two square, white envelopes.
“These were outside, addressed to you and me.”
“Well, fuck. Rat bastard didn’t come in this time. Maybe he knew I was waiting for him.” He reached for one envelope and they both opened them at the same time. No picture, just a short note that he read aloud.
‘Be in your office at six p.m. – you and Ginger, alone. Do as I request, or the rest of the pictures get distributed around the office, beginning with Mr. Wilder on the top floor.’