The Lists

by Meka James

  Love, admiration, gratitude, and unrelenting happiness cycled through me and battled for the dominate emotion. Dinner and a fun night of playful sex was all I expected. But in true Malcolm fashion, he took my expectations and blew them out of the water. He’d find a way to make going through a drive-thru burger joint romantic. With a wistful smile tugging at my lips, I closed the lid and held the box to my chest before putting it back down.

  After a quick shower, I wrapped the towel around myself as I reentered the master bedroom. The missing panties—a matching red lace thong—were laid out next to a small blue velvet pouch. My husband sat next to the items and took a leisurely glance down my body. His mouth quirked, and his eyes shined bright.

  Maybe we’d stay in after all.

  With that thought in mind, I unwrapped the towel and let it drop to the floor. He gave a low chuckle and a subtle shake of his head. In damn near slow motion, Malcolm pushed himself off the bed and took painstakingly slow steps in my direction.

  Goosebumps peppered my flesh and my nipples puckered. When he was within reach, he placed his hands ever so lightly on my hips and gave a tiny squeeze. An urgent longing to please him—to give him everything his heart desired—surged through me.

  “You wouldn’t be attempting to seduce me, would you?”

  My gaze fluttered up to him and I sank my teeth into my bottom lip. “Never crossed my mind. I have to get dressed, that requires I get naked first.”

  A nod and low laugh. “Very true.”

  He let his fingers trail up my sides and down again. A soft, barely there touch, but one that left a trail of heat in its wake. The bobble of his Adam’s apple let me know he wasn’t nearly as unaffected as he wanted to pretend.

  Taking me by the hand, he led me closer to the bed. “I should help you along.”

  “What’s in the pouch?” I asked, jutting my chin in its direction.

  He picked up my lotion from the nightstand before casting a glance in the same direction. “An accessory for the night.”

  A few pumps of the moisturizer into his hand, then Malcolm lowered himself to his knees in front of me. My breath caught in my throat. With eyes on me, he rubbed his hands together before tearing away his gaze and placing them near my ankle. Slow, circular motions as he inched his way up my leg, working the silky cosmetic into my heated skin.

  When he got to my inner thigh, I widened my legs and placed my hands on his broad shoulders for support. I swallowed back a whimper when he let his thumb graze against my freshly waxed sex—a treat that had extended past his birthday. His warm breath hit my aching center, and I desperately longed for his skillful mouth, but his teasing was over before it really got started as he pumped more lotion into his hand and repeated his actions on the other leg.

  After a kiss to my navel and a squeeze to my ass, I expected him to stand but he didn’t. Instead, my playful husband let his fingers trail my inner thigh as he played a devious game of “close but not too close.” He looked up at me with lust-laden eyes as his tongue rolled across his bottom lip. He took a deep inhale. Pulsating need throbbed in time with my racing heart. Much more of his attention and the results would be running down my leg.

  “I love this scent.”

  Holy fuck! The words were dirty and delicious all wrapped up into one. Each letter dripping with the desire that sizzled between us. I couldn’t suppress the shudder that ran through me. My nails dug into his shoulder when he made a V with his fingers to part me and began slow strokes on my clit. Expert, languid movements as he strummed my body with grace.

  Malcolm planted kisses on the inside of my thigh. The soft scrape of his beard was a most delicious feeling that added yet another layer to his seduction. His fingers tickled my flesh as the pads skated across. I wouldn’t last much longer. When he lifted my leg and put it over his shoulder, I did a mental fist pump and let out a small whimper in expectation of his mouth.

  It didn’t come.

  With a slight turn, he picked up the pouch. I eyed the item he removed, a pink silicone stick with two round humps. Our eyes met and a shiver ran through me at the sexy smirk firmly in place. My body went on high alert in anticipation of what was next. Which I hoped was me, in a mind-numbing, legs weakening, stars dancing behind my eyelids orgasmic rush.

  In near slow motion, he inched forward and planted a kiss on my exposed sex before his fingers probed my opening. The smirk got wider. He ran the stiff toy through my natural lubricant. The slow rub and twist mingled with the languid circles of his fingers inside me. Combined, the action created additional wetness, had me panting, and inched me closer to coming undone.

  “These are what’s called Kegel balls.”

  The hoarse, whispered explanation sent a shiver through me. I pressed my lips together against the slight pressure as my body expanded to accommodate the intrusion.

  “I picked them because it says as you wear them, they massage you so you’ll have a little bit of pleasure throughout the night.”

  The weight of them settled into place. Mal smiled and flicked his tongue against my needy clit, drawing a shaky whimper from me before he removed my leg from his shoulder. He picked up the red lace thong and held it open for me to step into. Was he seriously not going to finish me off? My center throbbed with desire, my body alive with need, and he was putting on my clothes. I kept my eyes on him as I stepped into them. He slid them up slow and deliberate, the silky fabric caressing my skin. Once they were in place, my husband stood, bringing himself to full height.

  “Finish getting dressed. I’ll be downstairs.”

  A wink and swift kiss and he strolled out the door whistling as he went. He really did leave me like this. Wound up and ready to explode. What the hell! A new wave of heat rushed through me. Frustration.

  When I moved, the balls shifted and sent a wave of pleasure through my already aroused body. Oh, he was being so cruel, but in all the right ways. I took my time getting ready and once I had finished I’d almost gotten myself under control.

  Mal stood when I got to the bottom of the steps. The look on his face sent a tsunami of horniness rushing through my body and undid all the slow breathing and cold water splashing I’d done.

  “Ready?” He held his hand out toward me.

  A grin spread across my face as I slipped my hand into his outstretched one. “Yup.”

  He wanted to play dirty, and I was not about to let him know how much he affected me. Though his hand on my lower back—lower than it needed to be—already told me this was going to be a hard battle of the wits to win.

  He opened my door and gave me another wink. “Buckle up.” He shut it and seemed to have a bigger pep in his step as he walked around and climbed in. He glanced over at me, then retrieved his phone from his jacket pocket.

  “Need directions?”

  The side of his mouth pulled up in a smirk. “Nope.” A few punches on his screen.

  “Oh, shit.” I jumped and my hands flew to my crotch. “What’s happening?”

  His head fell back against the headrest as he laughed. He cranked up the car and backed out of the garage. “That, baby, is the appetizer for tonight.”

  The low pulsing from the balls stimulated my walls and I clenched on instinct. The earlier arousal that remained under the surface came clawing back full force. I gripped the door handle and middle console and pressed my back against the seat. My lips parted as my breath came out in quick bursts. The building started, the tightening of the coil winding ready to snap. We got to a red light, he punched a few buttons on his phone, and the vibrations stopped.

  But the need remained.

  I moistened my lips. My breathing remained ragged. “Mal, what the hell?”

  He cut his eyes over at me. “Like it? They’re Bluetooth controlled.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him in response to the wicked grin he graced me with. He’d teased me and left me unfinished, and now he planned to play with me all night? And his cat that ate the canary expression was not doing him an
y favors.

  “Bluetooth?” My voice shaky and slightly breathless.

  “Yup.”

  I adjusted the air vents toward my face hoping to bring my body temp down. What the hell had I gotten myself into? Not only did my husband love gadgets, he, at times, was nothing more than a big kid. Why was I surprised he’d found a Bluetooth–controlled sex toy? This might be the first thing I’ve put on the list I could possibly regret.

  Thank goodness for small miracles, he’d granted me a reprieve during the car ride, which allowed me time to collect myself. After we were seated and our orders placed, a sly grin took up residence on his face. I gripped the arms of my chair when he pulled his phone from his jacket pocket. I understood now why he’d requested a semi-private table in the back of the restaurant. Lips firmly pressed together, I managed to muffle the squeak when the toy activated.

  He sat forward and rested his elbows on the table. I squirmed in my chair, the vibrations coming from the balls, a low, but constant pulse.

  “How are you feeling?”

  My eyes widened as I pressed my legs together and struggled to keep from panting. My hands gripped either side of the table.

  “H-how am I feeling?” I asked between clenched teeth. “I feel like I’m about to be Meg Ryan from When Harry Met Sally, only I won’t be faking it!”

  Malcolm sat back and laughed. I shook my head shook frantically when he picked up his damn phone. I stared at him. He wouldn’t dare turn them up.

  With a wicked gleam in his eye, he winked, and the vibrations got stronger. I stuffed bread in my mouth to stifle the moans. Sweat beaded on my forehead. I forced air through my nose. My back was a straight rod, and my head hung down with my eyes squeezed shut. The more I squirmed the worse it got. My heart hammered against my rib cage, and I needed water but feared I’d drop the glass. The consistent stimulation pushed me closer and closer. Even the removal cord vibrated and my squirming had maneuvered it so it rested against the sensitive flesh of my labia.

  I managed to look up at my husband, ready to plead for him to stop. The lustful wonderment on his face slammed a new burst of desire into me. His lips parted, one hand missing, hidden under the table, and his breathing was nearly as ragged as my own.

  The sight of him was the final straw. My hand flew to my mouth to cover the sound, and my eyes fluttered at the release of the orgasm he’d denied me earlier. I hooked my feet around the legs of the chair in hopes of keeping my body from shaking too much. Last thing I wanted was to draw any attention from the tables around us. I’d already gotten a few glances. The internal vibrations stopped, but I didn’t. My climax seemed to drag on forever.

  I let out a long, slow breath as the final shockwaves died down. My hands still trembled when I reached for my glass of water and took two large gulps. I looked up to meet Malcolm’s eyes. His chest rose and fell with deliberate breaths.

  He stuck his tongue out and licked his lips. “Baby, that was fucking beautiful,” he whispered in a raspy tone.

  I bit the corner of my lip. His reaction wiped away any embarrassment and replaced it with a surge of confidence.

  I sat forward, glanced around, then whispered, “I can’t believe you made me do that.”

  A laugh bubbled free as the total weight of what just occurred settled on me. My heart rate remained elevated and my walls continued tiny clenches around the toy.

  “All I can say is thank god for this table cloth right now, because…” He cast a quick look down to his lap and back at me. “This might have backfired on me in a major fucking way.”

  I covered my face and took a deep breath. My poor husband. Though part of me wanted to say that’s what he got for the stunt he’d pulled. The bigger part of me—the part that had my body temperature rising again at the thought of him full mast under the table—had the wanton desire to crawl under the table and suck him dry.

  He pulled the blue pouch from his pocket and slid it across to me. “Not gonna lie, baby, I was mildly offended at the idea of you wanting toys. But after that display… I have been converted.”

  He took a sip of his wine and while I could only imagine the other toys he’d want to try, instead of being worried, I was aroused and eager to find out.

  I picked up my own wineglass. “Sounds good to me.”

  9

  Mistress Ginger

  Calida

  I fought hard to keep a straight face as my manly husband stood before me wearing the most ridiculous pair of sparkling silver Speedo–type underwear that barely contained him. They didn’t stand a chance once that thing was at full mast.

  I feared this whole idea of me being in charge would be a recipe for disaster. And I sure as hell thought he’d give me a major hell no when I showed him what he had to wear, but like the good boy he said he would be, he put them on.

  Letting my hands glide along his warm skin, I took my time touching and massaging his muscular arms. They clenched and flexed under my fingers. I moved upwards, at a slow, languid pace until I reached his shoulders. Even in these ridiculous thigh-high boots, he stood taller than me, so I tilted my head up to look at him.

  A small internal battle raged as I fought to keep upright and not melt into a puddle of weak-kneed horniness. I arched a brow and slowly pushed down on his shoulders. He gave a little resistance before he submitted to the silent command.

  “I believe you said something about kissing my boots and calling me Mistress.”

  Malcolm’s eyes darkened and his full lips pulled to the side in a delicious smirk. “That I did. Mistress.”

  The look combined with that one word was a one-two punch to my core, and the rapid beat of my heart matched the pulsating throb between my legs. I swallowed the dry lump in my throat and let out a slow exhale. When he touched me, I couldn’t stop the shudder. The cocky bastard winked before lowering his eyes.

  I watched with bated breath as he began. Small circular motions at the back of my knee, while his thumbs simultaneously rubbed the front, then he leaned forward and kissed the top of boot. He shifted so he balanced on one knee and the other leg was angled to act as a makeshift stool. A protest sat at the tip of my tongue when he placed my heeled foot on his thigh, worry that the spiky point would injure him, but he didn’t appear bothered.

  The warmth of his hands seeped through the layers of material, or it could have been the jump in my own body temperature in reaction to his touch. Either way, I was acutely aware of each meticulous squeeze and caress to my calf. Another kiss, this time to the center of my shin.

  How in the hell was I supposed to survive this? He was stealing my breath and kicking my resolve’s ass by making kissing my boots this fucking sensual. I couldn’t take it.

  Placing my fingers under his chin, I forced him to look up at me. “That’s enough.”

  Malcolm’s brows bunched. “I’m not done.”

  I pursed my lips. “You’re done when I say you’re done.” I hoped my voice held the authority I searched to have. “Stand.”

  He placed my foot back onto the floor and rose to full height. I needed him; everything in me screamed out with urgency to be connected with my husband.

  The curly hairs on his chest prickled my finger as I ran it down the center. “Undress me.”

  The command was met with a smile. “With pleasure.”

  I swatted his hands and gave a tsking sound, accompanied with a finger wag. “What’s my name?”

  His smile got bigger. “Mistress.”

  Suppressing the moan I wanted to let out with the way that word rolled off his tongue damn near took an act of Congress. I wanted nothing more than to call it quits and let him do what he did best—make my body sing. With a deep breath and what I hoped was a sultry smirk, I dug deep to find my inner Domme.

  “Good boy. But, as a punishment for forgetting, you can’t use your hands. Mouth only.” A saving grace that would hopefully help me stay in control a while longer.

  He tilted his head, and his eyes roamed the length of
my body. When he met mine again, the lustful look he pinned me with was enough to turn me into a puddle.

  “Yes, Mistress.”

  Malcolm put his hands behind his back and then leaned forward. My breath caught in my throat when he lifted the zipper of my pleather body suit with his tongue. The shudder could not be stopped as he moved the closure down using only his teeth. It ended at my navel, which meant he now kneeled before me. He ran his nose along the exposed flesh on my abdomen and I realized my no hands rule presented a problem. How the hell could he get me out of this body-hugging outfit?

  Before I could amend my command, my husband got back to his feet and circled behind me. An unauthorized kiss landed on my shoulder, followed by some skillful maneuvering that had me undressed to the waist with a little assistance from me. I’d always known he could work magic with his mouth, but this seriously impressed me.

  As he stood in front of me, I could see he was just as impressed with himself, though the job remained half finished. Getting into this thing took shimmying and a few jumps. No way he could get it off the lower half with just his mouth. New plan.

  I put my hands on my hips and tilted my head. I gave his body a long appreciative glance; my fingers tingled with the urge to touch him, all of him, everywhere. To trace each line along his abdomen. To run my tongue down the deep V that disappeared beneath the waistband of his Speedo. Which was being put to a stress test. A rush of want and need throbbed between my legs.

  “Permission to use my hands, Mistress.”

  “No.”

  Not yet anyway. The slight brushes of his body against mine as he’d worked to get the top half down had been tiny fractures in my resolve. The moment the maestro put his hands on me all would be lost and this game would be over.

  “On the bed. In the middle.”

  His tongue rolled across his bottom lip. “Yes, Mistress.”

  Shit! Hands or not, I wasn’t gonna last. When he turned to walk away, I couldn’t resist smacking his ass. He threw an air kiss over his shoulder. As he got settled, I peeled myself out of my outfit. My heart was in competition with a hummingbird at the rate it beat. In sheer white lace bra and thong, I stood, legs wide, hands on hips, and let him take in the sight of me. My nipples pressed against the fabric, tight and tingling, in urgent need of my husband’s attention.