INV 2 - An Invitation, Ariel's Pet

by Qwillia Rain

  slipped past her lips as she watched him open the bottle.

  He drifted his hand down from her belly to her pussy. Using his fingers, he pushed the swollen folds apart, exposing the pink flesh even more than her spread legs did.

  He held the bottle over her clit and drizzled a small stream of the clear fluid onto her before capping the bottle and picking up the vibrator.

  The decision to squeeze her eyes shut or keep them open waged a minor battle inside Ariel.

  Dane's focus was entirely on the wet folds under his fingertips, but she knew he continued to be aware of her every action.

  “Don't move, Tink.” His gaze met hers and held it for several seconds.

  Ariel groaned. She suspected what would come next would push the limits of her control, based on the intensity of his tone. Not like her control existed where this man was concerned. At least none she had discovered so far.

  Swallowing heavily, she drew a deep breath and nodded, not trusting her voice to keep from begging for the thick length of his cock. The only consolation she had was the brief glimpse she'd got of the ridge of flesh pressed against the placket of his trousers when he'd settled onto the table.

  Thoughts spun away as the low hum of the vibrator began and the blue wand settled against her clit in a whisper of a caress.

  Ah fuck. I'm not gonna make it. Ariel used every muscle in her body to keep from pushing up against the toy Dane plied along her swollen folds. She could hear the rush of her blood through her veins. The leather protested the scrape of her fingernails over it, and only Dane's weight kept the low table in front of her in place. Oh God, let it end. Quit teasing and push it in, damn it.

  She was sure he could see the strain to hold back on her face. The compulsion she fought to keep from speaking or budging from her position. The way her teeth gnawed on her lips. How her fingers clawed against the sofa cushions on either side of her hips. Heat suffused her face.

  All of it identified the determined effort she made not to take over and direct him in bringing her to climax. But knowing he saw it did nothing to ease how she felt or stop the sensations that coursed through her body.

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  “You're doing so well, Tink,” he soothed as he stroked the vibrator between her labia, making sure to keep the very tip pressed over the hard nubbin of her clitoris with each slide up or down.

  Ariel bit her lip to still the moan rising in her throat. She wanted to twist and move her hips, to rub against the stimulation he created.

  “So good, but it's going to get harder now,” he warned her.

  Her vision blurred; her breath grew labored as her arousal increased with each roll of the toy along her flesh.

  “Remember, no moving,” he ordered.

  Dane rubbed the tip of the vibrator slowly around the edge of her vagina. The smell of her cream was heavy in the room. Even as distracted and turned on as she was, Ariel would swear Dane echoed the groan that escaped her lips as he eased the tube inside the first inch.

  So fucking good. He knows so well how to touch me. Ariel couldn't decide where to look next: at his face, his eyes, the hands working the toy with such skill within her body. Her inner muscles fluttered and flexed as he pressed the vibrator deeper. His breathing appeared to match the rapid pace of hers. The realization sent pure joy spreading through her. Even knowing she probably sported a blissfully dazed look didn't upset Ariel. Her body felt too good.

  His left hand stroked along the outside of her thigh, tugging her open the tiniest bit more.

  “You feel it, don't you, baby?”

  He held her gaze and watched her nod, although Ariel was unsure of what he said or what he meant.

  Pulling the vibrator free before he pushed it in deeper, Dane clarified. “The heat. The need.

  The burn of climax waiting for the right pressure. The right touch.”

  Her nod was a bit more vigorous, and she could feel the hold she had on her body start to weaken. The rock of her hips increased the depth of the toy's penetration. Ariel noticed something in Dane's expression, but she was too immersed in the sensations pounding through her to try to analyze it.

  “Feels good?” he asked.

  “Mmm. God yes. Please, Dane.” Her voice was raspy, barely audible as she gasped and shifted again to increase the stimulation of the vibe.

  “Who's in charge here, Tink?” He breathed deeply, as if intoxicated by the smell of her growing climax.

  “Huh? What?” Her head rolled back and forth on the back of the sofa, her breathing fast.

  “Who's in charge here?” he asked again.

  This time a flash of awareness surfaced in her mind. The hazy glow surrounding her cleared as her eyes went wide, and her breathing stopped for a heartbeat. Two. Three. It resumed, and her body slowly grew tense. Tears burned in her eyes, produced by a mixture of frustration, anger, and self-disgust at her naïveté. She felt him turn the speed control of the vibrator down and then off as he pulled it free of the muscles gripping it.

  A shudder rippled through her body, and her throat constricted as she swallowed before her answer came out in a hoarse croak. “You. You're in charge.”

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  “Very good.” His grip was careful, soft, when he eased first one of her feet and then the other from the table and onto the carpet. “You are not allowed to come. Just stay still.” He stood up and walked into the bathroom.

  Ariel wondered why she didn't grab her clothes and walk out. As she fought the burn of climax, to touch herself as he'd trained her, her mind clawed at her reasons for hesitating. She didn't owe him any explanation or apologies if she decided to finish what he started. Hell, the fact that he only took her so far then stopped should be reason enough to defy his orders.

  But that would break the rules of our contest. He's boss in the office; I'm boss in the kitchen. Each of us has to follow the other's direction when in their domain. That was the deal.

  Closing her eyes, she took slow, shallow breaths and coaxed her body to slow down, to relax. The fever pitch of desire and the painful curl of arousal still twisted in her belly. She could feel the tears building but refused to let them fall. I'll be damned if that fucker sees me cry. I can do this. Was this how he felt in the kitchen the other day? Did he ache with the need to come when I went down on him?

  The thoughts spun in her mind and drowned out the sound of the water running in the bathroom. Was his pride bruised by the way she'd commanded him to climax the other morning?

  Was this his way of teaching her to watch her step, in the same vein as her lesson for him had stemmed from the orgasm he'd given her?

  She wasn't even aware he'd returned to the room until a warm, damp cloth eased over her mound to cleanse away the drying lube and sticky fluid of her arousal. She waited for him to finish, her body too alert for her to proceed any faster than a slow crawl, before she asked,

  “Why?”

  He put the washcloth, vibrator, and lube into the paper bag and rolled the top down in a neatly creased fold three times before answering.

  “You have to know how far to push your body. You know how to make yourself come, but you should also know how to not let yourself come.”

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  Chapter Nine

  Brain barely functioning, Ariel allowed Dane to help her into her clothes. She stepped carefully, the throb and ache of her flesh making her grimace. If she trod too quickly, the scrape of her bra over her nipples, the brush of her panties between her legs, even the seam in her pants, brought a gasp to her lips.

  Despite the fog Ariel seemed to be in as she waited for Dane to set the alarm and lock up the café, the rebellious part of her brain geared itself for battle. Murmurs of discontent and irritation niggled beneath the haze of frustration and unappeased arousal.

  Instead of leaving her to walk the few blocks to her house, Dane shouldered her backpack.

  He ig
nored her assurances that she was capable of getting home by herself. “The sun has only just gone down, Dane,” she pointed out, but he didn't bother to respond, only kept walking. He was careful to keep his steps short, as if he were trying to accommodate her slower pace. It was hard for her to get a handle on the emotions boiling through her. Unrequited lust was foremost, but beneath it was a morass of confusion and contradiction. She knew she should be pissed, but she wasn't.

  His determination to see her safely home wasn't new. So far he'd followed her and watched until she closed the door behind her almost every night. She knew she should resent it, but again the emotion was absent.

  “This was payback for the unfinished blowjob, isn't it?” she asked, her gaze focused on the sidewalk in front of her. Her peripheral vision caught the shake of Dane's head before his words reached her.

  “No. This had nothing to do with that, Ariel.”

  “For Saturday morning?”

  “No.”

  “I don't believe you.” Turning her head, she watched his shoulders rise and fall in a negligent shrug.

  “You can believe what you want, love, but tonight's lesson had nothing to do with your demonstration about chocolate or your attempt at playing Domme.” The take-it-or-leave-it tone seemed to support his words.

  “Then why?” Her hand rubbed at the knot in her belly while fighting the urge to shift lower and cup her pulsing mound. “If a dominant is supposed to direct the satisfaction of his sub, like you keep saying he is, then what point is there to taking me so far and leaving me in pain?”

  They neared the house and stepped onto the porch as Dane responded. “A Dom is also supposed to show the sub that delayed satisfaction can increase the ability to control his or her body and the response it has to varied stimuli.” He took her key from her hand and opened the door.

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  With the porch light shining on his golden hair, he waited outside the door while Ariel punched in the alarm code and turned to face him. She was inclined to believe him, and he seemed to have a bit more to say as he held on to her backpack while she leaned in the doorway.

  “Knowing how to control your body, to control your climax, can enable a sub to delay gratification, sometimes for hours. And since the primary concern of a sub should be the satisfaction and comfort of his or her dominant, delayed satisfaction can increase the pleasure of the master.”

  Ariel took in the information and compared it to the information she'd gleaned online and from some of the books she'd read. Even when she and Alayna had read the pages of A Master's Gift's Web site, the point hadn't been clear. Until now. Now she could see how controlling her body could be used as a tool to please another. Too bad she hadn't stopped herself from climaxing. Dane had done that. Like I need more proof of what a failure at sex I am.

  Feeling the tears of frustration and disappointment begin to clog her throat, she held her hand out for her backpack. The frustration was understandable, considering the unfulfilled desires pounding through her body. It was the feeling of disappointment that scared her.

  Especially considering the disappointment stemmed from her failure to please Dane. And the fact that she even cared about his satisfaction pissed her off.

  As he relinquished the pack to her, Ariel tried to smile. She knew it came out more as a grimace, from the concerned look that creased the corners of his eyes. “I guess it's a good thing I'm not aiming to be anyone's sub, huh?”

  Dane stepped closer. “Why?”

  “Because I'd fucking fail every time.” She shook her head. “Trying to keep from coming as a means of bringing someone else off would be impossible. Hell, I can barely bring myself off.”

  She didn't bother to wait for Dane's response. Anxious to get away, to avoid facing the truth about her shortcomings when it came to sex, Ariel stepped back from the doorway. Though the vixen inside urged her to slam the door in his face, Ariel merely closed it with a quiet click.

  Dane wasn't sure what he'd expected as a response, but he cursed the lesson he'd given her tonight after seeing the look of self-loathing and defeat filling her face and darkening her eyes.

  Shit. You idiot! Having watched her struggle to climax last week, you think revving her up and then leaving her is the best way to show her how to control her body? Dane swore under his breath as he hesitated at the top step. The pain and disappointment on her face tugged at him, but he fought the inclination to comfort her. She wasn't his sub. Hell, she wasn't even training to be his sub. But you're treating her like she is. And you're hoping she will be.

  “It's a fucking bet,” he growled, his shoulder propped against the post supporting the roof of the porch. He thrust his left hand through his hair and forced himself to descend the four shallow steps and start down the path. Shoving his fists into his pockets, he stopped, closed his eyes, and drew a deep breath. He hoped the smell of flower gardens, mown grass, and car exhaust would eradicate the aroma of her arousal that lingered in his nostrils. It didn't.

  Closing his eyes didn't help either, since the expression on her face pasted itself to the insides of his eyelids. “Fuck.” When the features in the face altered and took on those of Ariel's sister, Alayna, Dane knew he was screwed.

  In the two weeks Alayna had been at the mansion, the disappointed expression in her eyes had only grown deeper. The confidence she'd started with was waning, and every bit of her 82

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  decline could be put squarely at his business partner's feet. Logan's fears kept him from claiming the woman he wanted, which translated to rejection in Alayna's mind. Could Ariel be thinking the same thing? Believing that refusing her climax was his way of pushing her away. Rejecting her.

  “Damn it.” He shook his head and tried to take a few more steps toward the street. “It's a challenge. A bet. Hell, she can't even admit she wants to be a sub. Why the fuck am I worried about this?”

  “It's a good thing I'm not aiming to be anyone's sub, huh? Because I'd fucking fail at it.”

  Her words echoed in his head, halted his steps, and sent his fingers scraping through his hair in exasperation.

  “She wouldn't fail. That's the problem,” Dane muttered. He looked over his shoulder. No lights had come on.

  Again Alayna's disappointed face flashed in his mind, followed by the image of Logan creeping into his suite because he didn't have the fucking balls to take the woman he wanted.

  “Goddamn it.” He spun around and strode up the walk. Dane took the four steps in one stride, and his fist hit the door as he snapped, “No way am I fucking this up. I'm not Logan.”

  When the door remained closed, he pounded harder. “Ariel. Open up.”

  Arms braced on the door frame, Dane waited, not sure what his next maneuver would be if she refused to answer. He didn't have to wait long for the door to swing open. His belly twisted in self-disgust at the gleam of tears on Ariel's cheeks. Her nose was red, and her eyes were pink and puffy, but the fire was back in them.

  He couldn't help but grin when her chin went up and she glared at him. The entire effect disintegrated when she brought a wad of tissue up and blew her nose, loud and long.

  Still, her words conveyed her irritation. “What? Did you forget something? Some extra bit of advice geared to rip away what little self-respect I have left?”

  “No.” He couldn't fight the grin. His woman didn't stay down for long, and he liked that about her. Hell, he loved it.

  “Then what? Are you finding this amusing? Think it's funny to get the ice bitch all hot and bothered, then dump her on her ass?” Her fist thumped against his shoulder in a solid punch.

  Dane shook his head and stepped inside.

  “Hey, asshole, I didn't invite you—” Another firm smack from her balled fist landed in the same spot as the first.

  He didn't bother listening to her, ignored a third strike of her fist, and merely pulled the door from her hold and shut it behind him. He didn't pay attention to
the surroundings; his focus was on her. Keeping his gaze on her face, he slid his hand up the door from the knob until his fingers bumped into the dead bolt. After twisting it closed, he crowded closer to Ariel.

  “Get out. I don't want you—”

  “You do.” He called her on her lie. “You're wet and aching.”

  “I'd rather spend the rest of my life in a chastity belt than have you touch me,” Ariel snarled. The crumpled tissue missed hitting him by inches, but he ignored it, moving in until he'd backed her into the wall.

  “Liar,” he whispered. He cupped her face in his hands and tilted her mouth up to his.

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  “You touch me, and you're pulling back a stump, you prick.” There wasn't much heat in her threat. The hands against his waist could hardly be considered a deterrent.

  Dane brushed his lips over hers. “We aren't in the kitchen, baby. So I think I'll risk it.” He didn't give her another opportunity to refuse. Sealing her lips with his, he plunged his tongue inside and stroked in and out, imitating the advance and retreat he would use with his body.

  The hands that had been pressing at his waist stilled. Shifting closer, he pushed the thick ridge of his confined erection against her belly, announcing his intent without words.

  Ariel cuddled closer, fingers clutching, then releasing the fabric of his shirt before making the effort to pull it free of his waistband.

  Lust overrode finesse as he gripped the front of her jacket in both hands and yanked it open; the buttons popped free. Shoving it off her shoulders, his fingers traveled down to release the hook and button securing her waistband before jerking the zipper down and tugging her pants and panties off her hips and down to her ankles.

  Ariel gasped as his mouth left hers to trail over her cheek and along her throat. More hooks released, and her bra stripped away and dropped her plump, full breasts into his waiting hands.

  “You know that lemon glaze you use on the lemon pound cake?”

  “What?” Her eyes were dazed, unfocused, as she watched his lips coast over first one breast, then the other. His tongue flicked out to roll over one puckered nipple before tugging on it with his teeth.