God. Oh…oh God
. She bucked under him, her pussy flaring hotter and hotter, but he tightened his hold so she couldn’t scoot away. He twisted his fingers in her garter straps as he kissed and sucked on her clit, worrying it between his teeth with just the right tension. She had no idea what to do, whether to pull him closer or push him away. In the end she twisted her hands in his shag carpet to hold herself to the earth. Her pussy pulsed as he sucked her clit, then licked up both sides of her cleft. He prodded her with dexterous fingers, which were lubricated by the flood of her reaction. He finger-fucked and tongued her in a perfect symphony, and a climax twisted and built inside her. As she lifted her hips, arching for more contact, a leaf drifted to the floor beside her. She looked up in sudden confusion. Where was she, inside or outside?
Why is there a tree in his house?
She was close, so close to orgasm. She reached blindly for him, and pulled roughly at his hair, something she would never in a thousand years have dared do to Vincent. It felt so soft and thick.
“God, please, Daniel… Don’t stop!”
He didn’t, only redoubled his efforts, pressing her clit with his tongue with exactly the pressure she liked. She took it as permission to go off whenever she wanted, and she did. She shuddered through wave after wave of blissful completion. She lay trembling afterward, unable to move, while he gazed at her with a self-satisfied grin. She stared back, totally speechless.
“You liked that,” he said. “Good.”
“Um, yeah. I definitely liked it. Daniel?”
“Yes, Wednesday?”
“Is there an actual
tree
in your house?”
“Yes, it’s an actual tree. I’ll tie you to it sometime.”
She melted. “Oh yeah… I think I might like that.”
“I’m quite sure you would.”
“Can I ask you something else?”
“Anything.”
She looked around the soaring, pristine walls and ceiling of the living room. “Why is your house so white? I’ve never seen a house like this. Without any color at all.”
He grinned down at her. “You’re the color.”
“And you’re a flirt.” She laughed. “Really, though? Why all the white?”
He lay on his back beside her, looking up at the walls. “I don’t know, Wed. I work in color all day. Busy film sets, lighting and shading. I want white at home. It’s peaceful and pure. Plus…I don’t know.”
“What?”
“White walls are almost like a new canvas. I’ve always thought white was a color of…possibilities. What do you think?”
“I think white is a color of blandness.” She tried to keep a straight face, but a string of giggles burst loose.
“I’ll bland you, little lady,” Daniel said, diving at her and tickling her.
She screeched, trying to fight him off. “Stop. Stop! Please, I hate being tickled.”
“Hm.” He regarded her with a raised brow and an “evil dom” voice. “That’s really good to know.” He released her and stood. “Okay, my turn next. Dress off, stockings on. Let’s go upstairs to my room.”
He pulled her up and unzipped her dress before lifting it over her head and tossing it aside. He growled at the ensemble she’d worn for him. It was classic Hollywood slut wear: sheer push-up bra, high-waisted garter belt, and lace-top stockings in black. He made her walk in front of him up the stairs and down the hall to his bedroom, and he was awfully grabby for someone who was certainly, definitely about to get anything he wanted.
In his room, he ordered her to undress him, his face tense with lust and his eyes burning blue. A quick glance showed that his bedroom was as white as the rest of the house, except for the black wrought-iron bed that dominated the space. It was artistic and ornate with lots of spindles for… Well…Wednesday could guess what he needed them for. He might not have had a dungeon or a playroom like Vincent, but his bedroom filled in fine. It would be no great thing for him to strap her to that massive bed a thousand different ways.
He seemed to have other plans. He sat on the edge of his bed and gazed at her with a look she was coming to know well. It was a look of
I want you, and I’m about to fucking take you. You’ll do what I want, and you’ll like it
. She stood as still as she was able to in her current state of arousal. She let him look at her, her chin up, her ass out, her arms at her side. The rug was shaggy, and she curled her toes in it.
“Turn around.”
The way he said that had the power to drive her wild. She’d just come hugely, but that stern tone made her get all damp between the legs again. It was crazy the way he affected her. She showed him her back, and he drew in his breath. “Beautiful,” he said. “Let me see your hands, Wednesday. Put them at the small of your back.”
She did and bowed her head. Time seemed to stand still, and she could feel his gaze like a caress roving over her back. Finally she dared a look over her shoulder.
“Yes, okay. Come here. Stand in front of me.”
She walked to him, met his gaze for a moment or two, but then her eyes were drawn to his cock. Every time she saw him erect, it gave her a jolt. He was definitely,
definitely
bigger than Vincent. Without a second thought, she started to drop to her knees.
“No.” He pulled her up, then had her sidle even closer to him, between his legs. His cock was sticking up in front of her, poking at the juncture of her thighs.
“Look at me, Wednesday. Focus.”
She blushed and tried to pull back, away from the huge distraction in front of her, but he held her fast with his hands planted on the globes of her ass.
“Do you know what I want to do to you?”
“Um…I have an idea.”
“Don’t be a smart aleck.” His hands explored her where they willed, his fingertips ending up over the laces at the front of her garter belt. “This little outfit you had on under your dress all night—garters, stockings, no panties. I think you wore this just to provoke me.”
“Um, you specifically told me not to wear panties.”
He pinched the top of her thigh, below her ass. “I don’t handle brattiness well at all.” It was a warning, and she got it.
Don’t be a smart aleck. Check
. His gaze traveled to her very erect nipples, which were clearly visible through her sheer bra, and back again to her face. “Perhaps you need to be whipped back into shape.”
Whipped? Yes
. She was finding it hard to breathe under his stare.
“Well,” he said with a sigh. “I’ll punish you later. First things first.” He went to the nightstand for a condom and returned to sit on the bed. “Kneel in front of me and put your hands in your lap and act like a good girl, even if you’re not.”
She knelt and did as he ordered. Her gaze went from his face to his cock and back again. She wasn’t sure where to look. It was pretty difficult not to stare at his cock when it was right in front of her like that. As he went on with his lecture, she started to realize that was probably his intention.
“I know Vincent kept you on your knees a lot, Wednesday. I understand that, but with me you won’t just be dropping to your knees right and left. When I want you to kneel and suck me, I’ll tell you to. The rest of the time you’ll wait for commands.”
“Yes, Daniel.” New master, new rules.
Don’t kneel until ordered to. Check.
“Open your mouth.” He drew her gaze back to his with two fingers placed beneath her chin. She parted her lips, feeling vulnerable and very, very hot. She felt terribly exposed looking up at him like that, her mouth open for him to use. She waited for him, at his mercy, at his behest, ready to service him on a word.
He didn’t give orders right away, though, only traced the satiny head of his cock over her lips, over the tip of her tongue. It was an unexpected, erotic thing for him to do, and her body reacted, warm lust spreading and swirling. She was actually starting to salivate. She grew so anxious to taste him and take him in her mouth. He teased her. He controlled her. It was the control that made her burn hotter than anything else. He made her wait, and so she waited with her hands obediently folded in her lap.
“That’s a good girl.” The approval in his voice was like honey. “Don’t take your eyes off me yet.” He put on the condom, taking his time, smoothing it against his rigid flesh. Then he pressed her lips farther apart with his thumb and started to ease himself into her mouth.
“That’s right,” he whispered. “Good girl. You suck me now and make me come.”
There was no possibility of a
yes, Daniel
, at that point, since he was buried in the back of her throat, but she had every intention of doing exactly what he asked. Released from the excruciatingly intimate eye contact, she set out to blow his mind. With his size, it was hard to take as much of him as he wanted her to, but he was patient, letting her adjust to his needs. She slid her tongue across the latex barrier between them, hating it for separating her from his flesh. She wanted to taste every contour and trace every vein with the tip of her tongue. She loved the fullness of his rod, and she couldn’t help but remember how it felt inside her—memories that triggered a hot rush of wetness between her legs.
Focus. Concentrate. Serve him.
She found it awkward not to use her hands, but he’d told her to keep them in her lap, and he seemed pretty keen on easing in and out of her mouth himself, at his own teasing tempo. Still, she’d honed this skill for five years, so she only gagged a couple of times.
It wasn’t long before his thrusts grew jerkier and more staccato. She worked him with her lips and tongue, savoring and teasing, then licking in broad strokes. With a raspy sigh, he told her to use her hands to fondle his balls. She did, weighing and caressing them, feeling them draw up with his peaking arousal.
He buried his fingers in her hair and pushed deep inside. She gagged again, but she doubted he even noticed at that point. Moments later he climaxed with a stifled groan. She took the deep, finishing thrust, holding still with his balls cupped in her hand. She felt humbled and submissive to him and waited to let him withdraw when he wished.
“Wednesday…” He sighed when he finally pulled away. He stroked her hair, then tilted her chin up again so she stared into his eyes. “You’re good at that. You’ve made me a very happy man.”
“Happy enough to forgive me for being bratty earlier?” She only asked a question like that to reassure herself he would be strict with her.
“Lie down in the middle of the bed,” he said softly. “Facedown.”
Yes, he would be strict. She had known it all along.
Oh God. Beautiful. Beautiful.
Beautiful.
Daniel was aware he was a very kinky man. That was never more apparent to him than at times like these, when something as basic as a woman lying facedown in the middle of his bed could make him lose his mind. The way she looked there, waiting for him, waiting for punishment. She had an amazing ass; she really did. The sexy bra, the lingerie, the black garter straps on pale skin—they were only the icing. Very nice icing, but even without it, her body was obscene.
He waited a long time, just watching, thinking about how to punish her. She’d been mouthy because she wanted to be punished, and he intended to show her how those types of games played out. He wanted to feel her against him this time, feel every fidget, every flinch. Every squelched impulse to flee. He wanted to feel her tense and uncoil as he spanked her. He wanted to feel her soft skin under his hand.
“Wednesday.” She didn’t look at him, only burrowed her face more deeply into the bed. “Wednesday,” he said a bit more sharply. “Look at me when I talk to you.”
“I’m sorry, Sir,” she said, turning to peer up at him. She had quite a blush going on.
He sat beside her and stroked her hair. “Let me guess. You weren’t allowed to look at Vincent when you were being punished.”
“No. I wasn’t supposed to.”
“I want you to look at me always. I want to see you. Never more than when I’m punishing you. How else will I know how you feel?”
She was silent a moment. “Vincent never cared how I felt.”
“Perhaps so, but I do.” He took her arm and pulled her to him. “Come. Come here.” He made her sit on his lap, a little bundle of trembling loveliness. “Look at me.”