by M. A. Ellis
Sweat broke out on his palms and Smith wiped his hands on the front of his unzipped jeans. The last thing he would do was allow his apprehension to show. He’d keep reminding himself this was what Kelsey wanted. And the things they were about to learn together could only improve their sex life.
“Smith! What the hell are you waiting for?” The drumming in his ears muffled Kelsey’s annoyed cry.
He looked out the window and saw the man’s shadowy form making his way up the clamshell path. He was carrying a pesticide sprayer, which seemed like an odd place for someone to keep the tools of their trade. Soft whistling drifted upward. In less than a minute, Kelsey would know exactly why he had been waiting.
Smith walked into the sanctum of Kelsey’s closet and found her fuzzy robe. He pulled it from the hanger, snapping the curved end of the plastic off in the process. He needed to slow down, to have faith in the man he had reconnected with. He’d known Chris since college. They had belonged to the same fraternity, had hooked up with some of the same grad students, one in the true sense of the word “share”. Smith hadn’t thought about his only threesome in years, not until Kelsey had shown him that movie. It had flashed him straight back to the best blow job of his life. Of Chris’ tutor on her hands and knees, Smith’s cock halfway down her throat.
Chris had been banging the woman from behind. A slow rhythm that was working perfectly for Smith. Her momentum and a great deal of saliva had it feeling so amazing he didn’t even need to fuck her. He would have been content having her suck him off. But then Chris had stopped, had pulled his cock out of her pussy and she, in turn, released the pressure on Smith’s cock. Until Chris hauled his hand back, called her a dirty little slut and landed a hard slap on her ass that had her loud moan cut off as she closed her lips around Smith once more and worked him like a machine. Each slap resulted in a moan that teased his cockhead and her sucking a little harder. It was the first time he’d come in a woman’s mouth.
Smith would have trusted Chris more than most men even before he had stumbled across the man’s dual life. Contented bar owner by day, full-fledged Dom by night. And from the phone conversation they’d had, business was pretty good on both fronts. Achievement was one thing Smith respected. Without knowledge, there couldn’t be success. Smith wouldn’t have a problem following orders when it was necessary. Chris had told him how to enter the room and what to do but he still wanted to rush to the stairs and jump down them two at a time to see what was happening. Instead, he exhaled the breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding and walked slowly toward the bedroom door and the stairs beyond.
He moved carefully down the treads, avoiding the worn spot that always creaked. He wanted Kelsey to be focused on their interloper but wished he could see her face to gauge her reaction. He didn’t want her scared and Chris assured him that wouldn’t be the case. That he wouldn’t show up in all black leather or guerilla camo gear. He’d go for macho yet non-threatening. Smith was anxious to see the definition of that.
“Your husband called yesterday. I got here as soon as I could.” Chris’s voice sounded the same, maybe a little deeper. He still carried that hint of a Boston accent. They’d teased his Yankee ass about that too many times to count.
Smith waited for Kelsey’s response. Nothing.
What is Kelsey thinking? he wondered, moving off the bottom stair and into the kitchen. He walked slowly around the island until he could see into the living room but still be out of Kelsey’s line of vision.
Bald. As a cue ball.
Smith hadn’t expected the follicle loss. Eight years ago Chris had sported a ponytail and full beard. He bent and picked up the sprayer and when he turned he caught Smith’s eye, offering a slight head nod. He’d kept a goatee, at least. A little more of Smith’s apprehension faded. His friend was in good shape, but he wasn’t Kelsey’s type. Too bulky. She liked ripped, but in a more athletic way. Smith absently ran his fingers over his abs and returned Chris’ silent greeting with a nod of his own.
“So…I’ll just go ahead and get started. In the kitchen.”
“Smith!” Kelsey’s high-pitched yell echoed through the room. Smith thought a dish or two might have rattled in the drying rack.
“Holy shit, lady. If that doesn’t scare the roaches out of hiding, nothing will,” Chris said, pumping the sprayer. “If you yell at your husband like that, it’s no wonder he ties you to the furniture and gets the hell out of Dodge.” He pretended to spray liquid around the baseboard then muttered in a voice loud enough for Smith and Kelsey to hear, “Show some respect, why don’t you?”
“What did you say?” Kelsey’s tone was a perfect balance of disbelief and haughtiness.
Oh, boy. Here we go.
Smith just knew she had raised her chin, her bright-blue eyes shooting daggers at Chris as she studied him down the length of her nose. It was her go-to “intimidation” look. Smith wondered if it pulled as much weight when she was half-naked and restrained.
“Nothing,” Chris responded, turning his back on her.
“Look, Vinnie.” She said his name as if it were a communicable disease. “I don’t know where Paul is or what you’re doing here, but now isn’t a good time.”
“No shit,” Chris muttered.
Smith glanced at his nametag. With the disinterested responses he was offering Kelsey, the man could pass as a Vinnie. Maybe this was part of Chris’ gig. Dressing up like an exterminator and acting gruff. If he had chosen an EMT uniform perhaps his demeanor would have been altogether different.
“What did you do to piss the old man off?”
“I didn’t do anything. Who the hell—”
“Then why did he tie you up?” Chris interrupted, setting his sprayer on the floor with a loud clunk. He walked quickly out of Smith’s line of vision, making a beeline for his wife.
“Smith!” The thread of panic in her voice had Smith moving. He rounded the corner as Chris was bending at the waist to study Kelsey’s ass.
“What did you do for the ass warming? Burn the Master’s toast?” Chris chuckled and Kelsey struggled so viciously against her restraints that Smith thought she might hurt herself.
“Kelsey, hush. It’s fine, sugar.” He rushed to her side and dropped to his haunches in front of her. Tossing his shirt and the robe on the sofa he ran his hands over her shoulders, watching the fear quickly ebb from her wide gaze. He gave her a quick kiss on the lips for good measure. It wasn’t what he had been instructed to say or do, but he was sure Chris was an impromptu kind of guy. He could overcome Smith showing her she was safe and secure.
“It’s not fine, Smith. This asshole, who clearly isn’t Paul—”
In his periphery, Smith saw Chris’ arm swing. He’d been told the sound would be worse than the bite. It was a hell of a lot louder than when he swatted Kelsey’s ass earlier.
She didn’t utter a sound, just fixed Smith with a startled wide-eyed look of confusion.
“First rule. Proper respect,” Chris stated in a firm tone.
Smith looked across the plane of Kelsey’s back, watched how Chris was moving his fingers from straight to slightly bent then pretended to swing, silently showing Smith the proper way to hold his hand. Curved, not flat.
“Proper respect. That means ‘yes, Sir’ and ‘no, Sir’, understand?” Chris asked.
Smith waited for her to answer, their gazes locked. He could sense the questions swirling below the surface. He’d answer them all later. The tiny crease between her eyebrows deepened, a sure sign she was overthinking whatever she was about to say.
“Answer him,” Smith demanded sharply, attempting to save her ass.
She jerked her head backward, blinking a few times as she studied him. It was difficult taking that tone with her. And maybe he should have let her go for a running commentary, just to see how Chris would respond. But his protectiveness of her ran deep. He’d have to fight to balance it against the inflictions that were to come.
Finally, she let out a long sigh. “Yes, I understand.
” Then added softly, “Sir.”
Smith relaxed, just a little, feeling as if they’d cleared the first hurdle.
“Very good,” Chris replied. Smith wasn’t sure if his friend was reinforcing Kelsey’s reply or Smith’s assertiveness. He offered Smith a wide grin. “We’ll need to teach you some knot work but nice job finding a way to tie those arm and leg straps to the furniture and still keep her legs spread.”
Smith hoped he didn’t expect a “thank you, Sir” in return because that dog sure as hell wouldn’t hunt.
“Braided instead of twisted. Excellent choice. But why the ottoman and not a chair?”
Would it be wrong to tell Chris he’d picked the ottoman so Kelsey would be comfortable? Probably. Although when they’d talked on the phone Chris had explained he mentored all levels of bondage. It wasn’t all contorted positions and electric shock.
Smith rose to his feet and ran his palm over Kelsey’s head, moving her ponytail to one side. “Perfect height,” he replied.
Chris offered him a crooked smile and glanced out the sliding door to the vista beyond. Smith figured he was remembering that other time, when both of them were in the same position, a hot woman between them. But this wasn’t going to end the same way. Chris might be able to teach him a little more than last time, but he’d be leaving with his hard-on in his hand. His wife’s ass was a bang-free zone.
Smith walked toward him and Chris came out of his reverie. “I think you picked it because you like her ass.
Smith reached out his hand in greeting. “You’re wrong about that, son. I love her ass.”
Chris took his hand, squeezed it hard then quietly clamped a hand on his shoulder. Smith wondered if they’d talk after this was over, and how strange that might be.
“As you should,” Chris said. “But if she’s headstrong and misbehaving, maybe you should consider other options. Has it crossed your mind that she loves being spanked? Women can play you that way. But all they’re getting out of it is their satisfaction. They’re really not learning anything.”
Chris wasn’t telling him anything he didn’t already know. Her response had been all too clear. A wet, throbbing pussy pretty much said it all.
“Does it bother you that we’re talking as if you’re not here?” Chris suddenly asked Kelsey.
Kelsey hesitated. “No. Sir.”
Oh, hell. That was a total lie and they all knew it.
Chris motioned that Smith should step forward as he traced a small arc along the bottom of Kelsey’s right ass cheek “Rule number two,” he said. “Honesty.”
Smith didn’t need to be told what to do. He curved his fingers and spanked her, precisely where Chris had indicated. A little moan escaped her lips.
“Hear that?” Chris snorted. “That’s not the sound of discomfort. Not the sort of deep, needy cry that comes from denial. That’s a moan of pleasure. She’s playing you, man.”
Smith considered his words. He’d read the articles on the person who was tied up actually being the one in control. But there was a difference between control and manipulation. Was her sudden need to spice things up nothing more than some inner need to prove he would still do whatever she wanted? He’d given her nearly everything she asked for. Had pampered her the way men in his family pampered the women they loved. Maybe all this time she had viewed it as weakness.
“What do you suggest?” Smith asked.
“If she’s going to misbehave, give you clear signs that she’s been bad, then you need to focus on what she doesn’t like. You need to refuse before you reward. And I’m talking more than just bringing her to the brink of orgasm and making her wait. Learn to incorporate both and you’ll be able to punish her proper.”
Chapter Three
Who the fuck is this guy?
Now that her head had cleared, Kelsey couldn’t ask herself the question enough. God knew if she asked Smith, she’d get another slap on her ass, which was a little sore. She wasn’t sure how a morning that started out as so hot and erotic had turned into a lecture on rules.
Kelsey listened to the man and Smith talk. She almost spoke up when he accused her of manipulating her husband. That was such a crock of shit and it proved to her that if he wasn’t a stranger to Smith, he didn’t know him well.
But weren’t you kind of manipulating him when you showed him that video? You were hoping he’d latch on to the fact you wanted something more than beginner bondage.
That part was true. Nothing had made her hotter than when Smith had said it wasn’t going to be spanking and a quick fuck. But she never imagined he’d bring another man onto the scene. She was trying not to think about that, every time she did her head started pounding. Maybe she’d been in this position too long and the blood was rushing to her temples.
And Mr. Tall-Bald-and-Arrogant going on about knowing what she liked? How refusing pleasure would be the way to go. As if he was some freaking expert. And that “punishing her proper” comment? Seriously, if the guy was going to stand in their living room throwing out advice and staring at her bare ass, was correct grammar too much to expect?
The fact Smith hadn’t tossed his ass out of their house had been startling at first. Until she realized this was part of her husband’s master plan. When he’d said “we’ll have you in this position later” she hadn’t given it much thought. She’d assumed it was the collective “we” that he often used. But when the other man had touched her, had swatted her ass harder than she imagined, Kelsey hadn’t been terrified. She’d been shocked, but not creeped out.
And why would you when you secretly watch porn that focuses on groups of men doing crazy things to helpless women.
Kelsey wasn’t sure if the voice in her head was hers anymore. It sounded accusatory, but guilt was the last thing she felt when she was glued to her laptop at three in the afternoon, bringing herself to orgasm. It would have been amazing if Smith and she were on the same schedule. That was part of their love life breakdown, but with the difference in east and west coast time, she didn’t know how to fix that.
“She’s been like that long enough,” Vinnie—she was certain that wasn’t his real name—interrupted her thoughts as he walked toward his sprayer. He definitely had some sort of weird affinity to the big metal canister. “Take off the restraints, but keep the rope on the ottoman. That’ll serve another purpose down the road.”
Kelsey thought Smith should have told him to go fuck himself, but her husband reached down and freed each of her legs. He rubbed her ankles, one leg at a time, and Kelsey flexed her feet up and down, then around in quick circles to help return circulation. Smith hadn’t bound her too tight, but it seemed like the thing to do. Plus she loved the way his big hands replaced the restraints. Holding her, but in a comforting way. He released her arms and she stared at the indentations on her wrists. She hadn’t realized how hard she’d pulled at her bindings.
“Here.” Smith offered her his hand and she took it, stretching her legs as she crawled off the ottoman to stand before him. She searched his face for some sign that he might be as unsettled as she was, but his features were as relaxed and handsome as ever. She curbed the urge to run her finger down the slope of his nose and over the indentation above his upper lip. She did that often, always replacing her finger with her lips and telling him how much she loved him. He was doing this for her, which made her love him a little more, but with their journey into Kinkland very real and in her face, Kelsey was beginning to have doubts.
“You don’t have to do this,” she whispered.
“Of course I do. It’s what you want,” he replied, grabbing her hand and placing a quick kiss on her fingertips.
The realization that he always gave her what she wanted slammed into Kelsey’s chest, leaving a weight directly over her heart. And what did she do for him?
“Don’t look so worried, darlin’. He’s here to mentor me.”
“You don’t need a mentor,” Kelsey answered quickly. “You’re intelligent. A geometrical genius, for shi
t’s sake. And you’d never do anything to hurt me. I trust you, Smith.”
“That’s all true and I value your trust. I always have,” he said, offering her a lopsided grin. “But this—what we’re doing right now? I’m not an expert, Kelsey. Maybe I’ll never be, but I’ll do the best I can.”
Kelsey’s eyes began to burn. Only Smith and his heartfelt sentiment could bring her to the verge of crying while she was standing in her undies with some renegade exterminator moonlighting as a bondage coach five feet away. She opened her eyes wider, hoping the cool air would stop the flow.
“But know this, sugar. This scenario of you and me and someone else is going to happen all of one time. That’s it. I’m going to learn everything I can and that’ll have to do. Because as much as I love you, as much as I want to make you happy, there’ll never be another man in our bedroom. Or living room. Or anywhere else. I know that now. Do you understand?”
Kelsey stared at him, his intensity making her stomach flutter.
“Answer me,” he demanded. “I want to hear you say it.”
“Yes,” she hissed, taking on a harsher tone in hopes it would stop her from making a weeping idiot of herself. Or confuse him enough that he wouldn’t notice. “I understand it’ll just be us.”
“If that upsets you, I’m sorry. I’ll learn all over again what turns you on. I loved exploring every inch of you years ago and this will be just as exciting. I’ll make you so hot your head will be ready to explode, and then I’ll make you come. Or not, if that’s what you want. But it’ll never truly be like your fantasies. I’m not sure I can reach that darker area of kinkiness I think you like.”
She wasn’t even sure what her fantasies were anymore. All she knew was she missed being in his arms. There was a time when they would talk for hours, but now he was always asleep. An arrow of pain shot through her heart when she realized the rift in their intimacy might have more to do with her than with him.
“He’s going to help me learn what you like,” Smith said, grasping her upper arms and giving them a reassuring squeeze.