“I get the first question. Five seconds to start your answer, and the game is called Truth or Consequences.” He paused for her nod, then started the game with something simple.
“Have you ever faked an orgasm?”
Apparently relieved at the question, she giggled as she answered. “That’s easy. Of course.”
“You have?”
Wrinkling her nose, she nodded. “I’m very good at it.”
“You mean like ‘I’ll have what she’s having’?”
“Just like that. When Harry Met Sally, Estelle Reiner as the woman in the diner. So yeah.”
“Because you do realize that’s a questionable skill?”
“So what do you do when a woman fakes it with you?”
“You mean fakes an orgasm?”
Ali nodded.
“I don’t think it’s ever happened.”
She raised an eyebrow. Definitely not competing for Best Submissive. “All men are sure it never happened to them, and all women at one time or other have done it, so you do the math.”
He shrugged and bit back another grin. “Fair enough. Same movie, same scene, Meg Ryan as Sally.” Tilting up her chin, his expression serious when he added, “There is one rule, Peanut. Honesty. Always be honest with me. Understood?”
When she nodded, he let the nod go and asked his next question. There’d be time later to teach her the importance of answering with words. “What’s your favorite position?”
“You mean…you mean for sex?”
“Not talking about yoga.” Ben ran his hands up her thighs again, sliding to the inside when he reached the top, teasing her with his thumb brushing lightly back and forth. “How do you like to be fucked?”
He felt her thighs tighten against his at the dirty word. And her mind was busy again, her breathing fast. It took a couple of seconds before she answered. “The basic.”
It was a temptation to push her, make her explain, but he wanted her unguarded right now. “Okay, your turn.”
“What’s your favorite?”
Bingo. “That’s a tough one.”
She frowned. “It is?”
“Yeah. It’s hard to choose.” Slowing down the pace of his words and lowering the register of his voice, he answered her question with a question. “Would it be you on top, cowgirl, hands clasped behind your neck where I told you to keep them, my hands on your waist, watching those magnificent tits bounce with every stroke?” She swallowed, her breath close to a pant.
“Or it might be when I’m behind you, so I can see your beautiful bottom, blistered about the color of those bright pink toenails. When I put my hands on your ass, you’re still warm from your spanking, and I know you can still feel the burn.” She glanced down at her toes, and the flush across her chest bloomed darker.
He kept a straight face, even managed to sound thoughtful. “Those are both good, but I think I’d go with over you. Sliding up your body, my mouth and face wet from tonguing you until you came the first time. Your eyes are wide open just how I want them, your legs draped over my shoulders. I’ll keep moving up, pushing you wide open. Hold your hands firmly beside your head. But before I fill you, I’ll kiss you to remind you how sweet you taste.”
The tremor moved up her body, and he felt the pressure on his thighs as she tightened her legs again, seeking comfort. He moved his hand where she wanted it but only cupped her gently, and she rocked against him. Gentle was not what she wanted. And his answer may have backfired because it was getting too damn hard to wait. Hard being the exact word for it. For now the glassy look in her eyes was his reward. “My turn.”
He held back his grin, looking forward to her reaction. “Spit or swallow?”
Frowning, she shook her head. “I don’t underst…oh.” Her frown deepened. “Swallow, but…I’m not very good at it.”
“At swallowing?”
“At any of…that.”
Ah, sweetness. Now it was his turn to frown. “I’m not buying it.” The worst technique in the world wouldn’t diminish the ecstasy of her mouth wrapped around him. “You know that old joke, what does a guy call the worst blow job he ever had?”
She shook her head.
“Fantastic.”
“You’re being nice.”
“No. Rule Number Two. Talk, communicate, tell me what you want. I’ll do the same. Would you expect your students to figure out how to—whatever chemistry students do—if you just told them that what they were doing isn’t what you want? You have to teach them. Talk to each other like we are now about what we want, what we like and don’t like.”
“You would teach me?”
Oh, hell. Spit-or-swallow was supposed to be a funny throw-away question, but with the images of “teaching her” now flashing in his mental screening room, he was close to the edge. Choking out “Of course,” he hoped she didn’t notice the strain in his voice. Not sure if that counted as her question or not, but he was moving on. His game, his rules.
“Best orgasms before or during?” He wanted to know what she’d say, but something about the question bothered her. And not just sexy, teasing, embarrassed bothered. Unhappy bothered.
“You get a do-over question because I can’t during and—”
“What do you mean you can’t?”
“I just…don’t.”
Challenge accepted, sweetness. “And before?”
“Sometimes. But I know guys don’t really like doing that. And I don’t expect—”
“Hold on. What—” He cut off his own question.
What the hell had her experience been like? She faked orgasms, she never came when she was being fucked, she apparently rarely had a guy lick and tease her to orgasm. And if she did, she thought she was supposed to be grateful?! What the hell?
Part of him wanted to beat his chest and bellow like an alpha gorilla at the chance to be the one to show her what pleasure should be. But another part of him wanted to hunt down every guy who had let her down, had taken that sweet, curvy, responsive body and somehow made her feel it was her fault if she wasn’t satisfied.
With his hand on the back of her neck, he pulled her to him, kissing her and nipping her bottom lip. “I’ll take the do-over, but first we’re getting one thing straight. If you weren’t sitting here naked on my lap, I’d say you have terrible taste in men. And as for me, I intend to touch and taste…Every. Single. Inch of you. And all I expect is that you’ll let me. Your pleasure is my job. Are we clear?”
Her “yes” was little more than a whisper. He wanted to ramp this up. Now. He slid his hands behind her, firmly cupping her cheeks. “Do you ever imagine having sex in a public place, where you might get caught?”
She started to answer, but didn’t. Her legs tightened, and she swallowed, trying again, but no words came out.
Interesting. And so damn hot.
“Time’s up, babe. Consequences.” He shifted her away from him slightly and pulled her hands to her thighs. “Hold yourself open for me.” He fought off another grin when her eyes blinked rapidly and the flush was back on her chest. This might be hard for her, but his demand turned her on. “Now, Ali.”
“Okay. I, uh, okay.” Her hands moved slowly to her inner thighs, but then she did as he asked.
“Perfect.” He cupped her and felt her slight curl into his hand. His fingers slipped into her slick heat, his thumb lightly brushing the sensitized nub. So ready for him. “More?”
She closed her eyes. “Yes.”
“Eyes on me.” He didn’t move his thumb until she was looking at him. Then he moved it again, harder this time. Then softly. “We both get two more questions.” With a wink, he added, “Unless, of course, you have to forfeit again.”
He increased the pressure with his thumb and slid two fingers inside. “Have you ever been spanked, bare hand, bare bottom?” She thrust against his fingers. “Times running out.”
“Uh.” She hesitated like she was trying to remember the question. “No.” He flicked lightly back-and-forth wi
th his thumb then moved his hand away, and she drew in a ragged breath.
Me too, sweetness.
“So I guess I can skip any questions about hairbrush, wooden spoon, ruler, flogger, crop, paddle, leather belt, tawse, rubber strap, whip, birch, cane?”
“Yes, please.”
No stopping the laugh this time. “Sassy pants. Do I need to remind you that you’re naked? Fold your arms behind you.” He slipped his hand back between her legs and cupped her gently. “And wet. And aching. Your turn.”
“My turn?”
“Your turn to ask a question.”
“Oh. Uh…what’s one of your fantasies?”
He stroked across her, taking care to keep his touch light. “Going for the big guns, huh? Let’s see. It’s an almost public place, like a deserted beach. Probably no one will come along, but it’s not a sure thing. I’m taking your top off. You’re nervous, but obedient.”
“Me? Your fantasy’s about me?”
He nodded slowly. “You’re always the star. But it’s my script and I’m the director.” He gave her a second to think about what he’d said. “What’s your secret fantasy?”
One second, two, three. Instead of answering, she shook her head.
Consequences.
He wanted to pull her across his lap. She wanted it, too. Or thought she did. But it was too soon, too much for this first time because she had no understanding of the emotional tsunami it would unleash. He’d wait. Take one step at a time. Because there would damn sure be other nights.
“Do you remember your safewords?”
Chapter 14
Safewords? Her heart rate may have kicked up again. How would she know? Her heart had been racing since he told her to take her clothes off. And she’d done it. She was way too young for a heart attack. At least it couldn’t be a very high probability. She wondered what the probability was. Should look it up because…but she didn’t have any signs of cardiac distress. Well, except the hard-to-breathe thing, but that went with the sexual arousal response and—
Ben was moving his hand again, his thumb brushing her there, and she was trying not to squirm or rock into the big, warm hand cupping her. But she made that sound again, like a puppy begging for a treat—
“Ali?”
What was he asking? Oh, yeah. Her safewords. Did she remember her safewords? She did. Didn’t she? Apparently she did since her head was nodding yes.
“No more nodding or shaking your head when you answer me, Ali-Cat. It’s too easy to miscommunicate. I need to hear your answer. Understood?”
She nodded.
“Ali.” It was Ben’s voice, but he sounded so firm. Resolute.
Crap. “Yes, I understand.”
“They are?”
They? Right, her safewords. “Red. And yellow.”
“And?”
His thumb stroked her again. And what? Oh, yeah. “And green if I’m okay.” His hand moved away, and she felt another whimper in the back of her throat. He was holding his hands out to her, palms up. She realized her arms were still crossed behind her. Her breasts pushed out. How could she forget about that? Everything he’d asked had been hard at first, embarrassing. But then it seemed comfortable. No, not comfortable. This aching wasn’t comfortable. But he made it feel natural. And the desire she saw in his eyes when she followed his instructions felt good. Really, really good. Heat rushed to her face—again—as she placed her hands in his and felt her own wetness.
“You’ve done well.”
The compliment washed over her. Warm. If she were a puppy, she’d be wagging her tail. Why did his words mean so much?
Because she wanted to please him.
“Stand up and put your shoes on.” He gave her hands a squeeze then moved his to her waist, helping her up and holding her until she was steady. She glanced at her heels in the pile of clothes. Shoes? As soon as she had them on, he clasped her hand, weaving their fingers together, and led her to the room door, stopping her, hands on her hips, a little more than a foot in front of it.
“Bend forward. Place your elbows and hands against the door. Feet shoulder width apart.”
No doubt about it, her heart kicked into another gear at his instructions. She tried to swallow, but gave it up as she bent forward. He was going to—
“Beautiful.” His hands caressed her sides. “Do you know how I’m going to touch you?”
“Yes-ss.”
“Color?”
She could end this. He was waiting for her to tell him it was okay, insisting she tell him she wanted this. And if she didn’t, he’d stop. All she had to say was red. A voice in her head whispered that this was a bad idea. There was no going back. But that voice was drowned out by the one shouting “I want this.” She managed to swallow and keep her voice even.
“Green.” She wanted to be as sophisticated as the women he knew, so she tossed her head and gave him her best sassy look. “Isn’t now when you tell me this will hurt you more than it will hurt me?”
His eyes were smiling, but the tilt at the corner of his mouth was a smirk, and he winked when he said, “I’ll never lie to you.” Her face flamed. It must be the color of the strawberry cupcake dress she’d worn in the wedding. “Hands higher. Face forward and chin up.” He ran his fingertips along her spine. “Back arched.”
She adjusted her position and tried not to think about how she must look. “You’re perfect, sweetness.” He placed his hand over hers and squeezed it. “And no matter what, keep your hands on the door.”
No matter what?
His left arm slid under her breasts, loosely holding her in place. His right hand caressed her bottom, the backs of her thighs. He ran his fingertips down her spine again before resting his palm lightly at the small of her back. Leaning in, his lips at her ear when he spoke. “Tonight is about calibration, but these first two are for me.”
What did he mean? Then it happened so fast. A small shift in his body, a tightening of his arm at her ribcage. A sound split the air as his hand landed on her butt, and a sharp edge of pain cut through her. Her gasp too deep to cry out. Red! Red, red, red. Just as quickly the slice of pain turned to a burn, stinging. Not red, yellow. And then pain became something else, a warm tingling, a current running down her spine. Her back arched deeper and her toes curled with such force she was pushed onto her tiptoes, and the ache in her core was too much. And not enough. Green. Oh God, green.
Before she could understand the sensations or draw more than a shaky, shallow breath, his hand landed on the other cheek. The same edge of pain, the same rush of pleasure.
Then he loosened his hold on her and stepped away, a little behind her. Not far, he was still touching her, his hand splayed now on her mid-section. Her mix of relief and disappointment was too confusing. She didn’t understand any of what she was feeling, but she wanted him closer, holding her in place, wanted to feel the rush again. Even wanted the fear. His fingertip traced a pattern.
“My handprint.” His hand rested gently where he’d spanked her. “It won’t last long. But I’ll remember.” For a second, his fingers tightened. “These are for you. Show me what you want.”
His first touch was no more than a gentle pat followed by a playful swat, then firmer. His arm moved across her, holding her loosely under her breasts, and she gasped when the next one was more. A burn, but not like before. She wanted the rush.
“Harder?”
“Yes, but…”
“But what?”
“Hold me—” Her voice cracked; she tried again. “Will you hold me tighter? Like you did before.”
His arm and hand tightened around her. “Of course.” He shifted closer, pressing against the side of her thigh and hip; his obvious arousal matched hers, his hand stroking her bottom then her inner thigh. “Six.”
It was faster this time. Not fast, but not pausing. His hand landing lower, right on the spot where she sat. The burn, the sting, the rush, the ache all ran together. Ali cried out, but he didn’t change his rhythm. She di
dn’t want him to. The sensations built until she thought her legs would buckle. The ache. She’d never wanted like this. His hand was on her thigh, between her legs. So close to the edge, she needed him now. Then he was pulling her away from the door, turning her to face him, and scooping her up into his arms.
As soon as he settled her on the bed, he reached into his pocket and tossed a handful of condoms beside her almost at the same moment he stripped off his jeans.
She was coming off the edge, but it was still hard to breathe. What little breath she had was taken away again. He was beautiful. She reached out to stroke his hard thigh, her one word came out on an exhale. “Wow.”
The corners of his mouth turned up. “Is that for me? Or…” He nodded to the foil packets. “Or for my optimism?”
“Both.” Putting one knee on the bed, he laughed and reached for her, but she felt a small niggle of doubt. Why had he brought those to the wedding? The possibility of sex? With someone. Glancing at the condoms, she tried to sound like one of the cool kids when she tossed out, “Always good to travel prepared.” But apparently she didn’t succeed because his smile immediately faded and his expression turned serious.
“It is.” He sat down beside her. “And there are probably a couple in my duffle bag, but I have no idea how old they are.” His fingers tilted her chin up. “I bought these in the hotel gift shop when you came upstairs to change for the party.” His thumb rubbed over her lips as he added, “For you.” His mouth brushed where his thumb had been. “For us.”
Her cool-kids remark hadn’t fooled him. He knew her too well. All she managed was a nod, but he didn’t ask her for words which was good because her heart swelled so large it was in her throat. She could see how ready he was, but he’d stopped everything when he’d seen her vulnerability.
Oughta Be a Movie: a Sugar-&-Spice romantic comedy Page 9