She reached for him with her foot.
He grabbed her ankle, and she let him move it into the position he wanted—high and to the side. This was more like it.
Something clamped around her ankle.
“What the fuck?” She twisted and bucked, kicking with her free leg.
He waited for the instant she relaxed, then snapped a cuff around that ankle, too.
“I don’t like this. Let me go. Now.” She bumped and thrashed on the table, wishing she’d removed the blindfold while she still had use of her hands. She pulled on her arm restraints. “These cuffs hurt. I asked to be loosely tied to a bed with silk scarves—and not until scene three.
Loosely
.”
“Quiet,” he barked. She flinched. He was really into this alpha-male-dominator persona. “The cuffs are well padded,” he said gruffly. “And I haven’t even begun to tighten the restraints.”
“Tighten? What do you mean,
tighten
?” She tried to bend her knees, testing her limits.
The restraints tugged on her legs, straightening and splaying them. She yelped.
“Quiet!” he commanded. “There’s no way we’re near the limits of your flexibility—yet.”
He was right about that. But when she put herself in this position, stretching, she wore clothes! No lover,
no one
, had ever seen her like this.
“Have you got me on some kind of medieval torture device?” Her legs strained as she tried to pull them together. “Because I am not up for that. Not at all. Let me go.”
“Relax. Give yourself over.” His fingers brushed across her cheeks, but she turned away from his touch.
“This is not what I asked for,” she said, trying to find her ‘I’m the boss’ tone. “You were supposed to eat me out first. You were supposed to push me up against the wall, put my leg over your shoulder, tear my thong with your teeth, and—”
“I’ll do
as
I please,
when
I please.” He pushed a finger inside her.
She sucked in a sharp breath and squeezed against him.
He pulled out.
“Do that again.”
“Quiet.” He pinched her labia.
“Ouch. You asshole. I’m going to use the safe word.”
“There’s no need for a
banana
right now.” He lowered his voice, moved his lips close to her ear. “Unless I decide to ram one into your lush little pussy.”
“I’d prefer your cock.” She raised her hips off the bed, hoping he’d accept the invitation, but instead of getting what she wanted, he slapped her ass, right where it met her thighs.
“Hey!” The sting burned, sending tendrils of pain shooting down her legs.
She squirmed against the restraints, but they wouldn’t yield.
He slapped her again.
“What are you hitting me with?” she gasped. It wasn’t his hand.
“A leather crop.” He dragged it down her belly, then along one of her legs. If she could trust her senses, it was about an inch wide, and flexible.
He struck her again, and as the sting radiated, she heard him doing something to the table. Although she couldn’t be sure, it seemed like the portion of the table from below her splayed legs was gone, leaving her butt—and genitals—right at the table’s end. Her suspicions were confirmed when his body brushed against the backs of her thighs.
As much as she hated this exposed position, she realized that now he could fuck her without climbing on top. Bonus.
Bending over her with his hand pressed into her stomach, he licked and then gently bit her nipples. She was reveling in the sensation when suddenly the warmth of his body vanished from between her legs.
She raised her head, wishing she could see, and the crop struck her again. Right on her mons.
“That hurts.” The sting spread, and she twisted on the fur. Then he slapped her again, lower this time, and the sound revealed how wet she’d become.
Wet and on fire. The pain of each strike wakened every nerve inside her—especially those between her legs. She wanted him so badly, it was hard to stay still. “Stop hitting me. Fuck me or eat me out. Now.”
He flicked her again with the strap. Right on her sex.
She gasped and bucked. “Stop that.”
He did it again.
It was time to remind him who was the boss.
“Banana, you asshole. Banana.”
Chapter Two
R
ex’s heart sank. Blood pounded in ears, his balls, his dick. This woman who knew him as Jake was full of surprises, and he was way more turned on than he wanted to admit—even to himself.
Given how close he’d been to fucking this woman, rather than doing his job, he should be relieved that she’d ended it. But he wasn’t. At this moment he’d never wanted to give—or take—pleasure more. Closing his eyes, he drew deep breaths, trying to get his erection to subside. So unprofessional. Despite her demands, the specs for this assignment didn’t call for use of his dick.
She squirmed on the table, and the chains on her bra brushed the tight nipples of her pert, natural breasts. Her jaw shifted in defiance, like she was trying to hide her obvious stimulation.
Reaching down to restore the lower sections of the table, he caught her scent.
Fuck
.
She was still restrained—his for the taking. What he wouldn’t give to press his mouth into her flushed, taut belly, to inhale her erotic bouquet as he traced his lips down to that thong, and then press his tongue, his fingers, his cock deep into her pussy. His erection jumped.
Physically, Deana was completely his type—supple, with beautiful, soft skin, dark hair and green eyes. But his real attraction came from her sense of humor—and her defiance. At first, he’d assumed it was an act to goad him into punishing her. But he sensed it wasn’t.
Despite the agency’s screening, most “I want to lose control” clients actually wanted pain. Lots of it. Past clients had begged him to whip them, or burn them, or jam three-inch-diameter dildos up their asses. And ever since the popularity of those books that every woman on the planet seemed to have read, way too many clients had expected him to belittle them, treat them like children. It was creepy.
Sure, he’d met women, even some of his co-workers, who were in healthy submissive relationships, but real subs didn’t hire Fantasies Unleashed. Not the ones he’d met. And he’d begun to hate those clients. Hate them for what they asked him to do, hate them for making him dislike the job he otherwise loved.
He’d told his boss, Eleanor, when she’d insisted he keep this booking: this was the last assignment he’d take that hinted at masochism. The very last one. How ironic that right now, he was the one who wanted to continue.
Sucking in a deep breath, he stepped away. “Okay, we’re done.” He reached for the ankle restraints.
“Wait a damn minute.” Her voice was firm, edging on angry.
His cock liked that. “What?”
“What do you mean, ‘We’re done’?” She lifted her head, even though she couldn’t see through the blindfold.
His hand slipped from the ankle cuffs to rest on her warm calf. “You said your safe word. Game over. I can’t continue.”
“No way. I paid for this.” She tried to pull her arms down. “Let’s start over. Do you need to hear me say it again?
Please proceed
.”
“Someone from our office will contact you about a partial refund.”
“Listen,” she said. “If you get back on script, I promise I won’t file a complaint with your boss.”
He shook his head, smiling. Eleanor wouldn’t be thrilled that the assignment wasn’t completed, but she’d laugh when she heard his side of the story. They’d shared some stories over the years, but this was the first time a client asked him to follow a script when she supposedly wanted to lose control.
And for some reason, that turned him on.
He was damn lucky she’d used her safe word. If they’d continued, the wrong one of them would have lost control.
***
Deana stormed into the Fantasies Unleashed office, after finding the address on her contract. “I want my money back and I want him fired.”
A slender woman, with flawlessly coiffed gray hair, was sitting at an antique desk, facing the door and talking on the phone. She raised a finger, asking Deana to wait. Fine.
Deana paced around the space, which was decorated with gorgeous ceramic and glass pieces. She studied an ornate porcelain vase, inlaid with thousands of tiny imprints of birds. The bone-colored glaze was perfection.
“May I help you?” a velvety voice asked.
Deana turned toward the woman. “I’d like to speak to the owner.”
The woman stood. Her suit looked like Chanel. Seriously classy. What was she doing in this place?
“I’m Eleanor Rigby,” the woman said. “I’m the owner of Fantasies Unleashed. How may I help you?”
“Eleanor Rigby?” Deana rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”
The woman wasn’t fazed. “If you’ll take a seat, Deana”—she gestured to a chair in front of her desk—“I’d be happy to address your concerns.”
“You know who I am?”
“I make it a point to know something about all of our clients. How can I help you?” The woman smiled and placed her perfectly manicured hands on the desk. This woman looked more like she’d fit into the high society of some big east coast city—in the 1950’s—rather than running a sex service in Vegas.
Deana sat on the edge of the chair and cleared her throat. “I wasn’t satisfied with the, um, service I received.”
Eleanor nodded. “I was very sorry to hear that. But it’s my understanding that you used your safe word. Our fantasy facilitators are required to stop in that situation. The last thing we want is for any of our clients to feel unsafe.”
Damn. Jake had already spoken to his boss. Of course he had. “Your employee wouldn’t do what I wanted. I’m the customer. Shouldn’t I be in control?” As she was saying the words, Deana realized how ridiculous she’d been. But to talk herself into going through with the dare in the first place, she’d had to visualize the fantasy. She’d gone over it so many times she’d become convinced that her version was the only possible way it should or could go. Just an hour ago, insisting that she be the one to direct the encounter had seemed reasonable. Now it didn’t.
“I’ll refund everything except your deposit,” Eleanor said.
“Thank you.” Deana suddenly felt very small. The contract she’d signed clearly stated that once she said, ‘Let’s proceed,’ she was obligated for the entire fee. Especially given the way things had ended, Eleanor was being very generous.
What was she going to tell Adam and Gwen? She felt her cheeks flush, even thinking about lying to them. She didn’t have a poker face—at all. Especially not with those two.
At least she had today off and she wouldn’t have to face them tonight. If one of them called, she wouldn’t pick up.
But more than the embarrassment, she realized how incredibly disappointed she was that Jake had shut her fantasy down. Thinking about him now—what he’d done to her, what he might have done if she hadn’t used that damn safe word—she was wet all over again. And as hard as it had been to yield any control, the idea was beyond titillating. It was all she could think about.
She shifted on the chair. “Instead of refunding the fee”—her cheeks heated—“would it be possible to continue the fantasy? A do-over of sorts?”
Eleanor nodded. “Certainly.” She pulled out a keyboard and after hitting a few keystrokes, she swiveled her computer monitor to face them both. “Here are the facilitators who are best suited to your fantasy. As soon as you select one, we can set up a time and get things moving for you again.”
“There’s no need,” Deana said. “Jake will be fine. I realize he was only trying to do his job. I was a bit, um, difficult.”
“I’m sorry,” Eleanor said. “But Jake is no longer available.”
“You didn’t fire him, did you?” Deana felt like her stomach dropped to her toes.
“No, I didn’t fire him.”
Relief flooded in. “Then, I’d like to have Jake again.” Memories of his voice, his hands, and his scent, heated her entire body. And then there was his cock. She hadn’t even had the chance to touch it. She’d barely had a good look before the blindfold.
“Unfortunately,” Eleanor said, “Jake is not available, but”—she looked at the screen—“Luke has a very similar physique. I’m sure you’ll find that he’s more than able to satisfy your fantasy’s requirements.”
Deana shook her head, shocked at how disappointed she felt. She’d marched into this room wanting Jake’s head on a stick, and now the thought of not seeing him again, of not completing what they’d started . . .
“Is it a matter of the fee?” she asked. “Because I’ll pay extra.”
Eleanor shook her head.
“Or if he’s angry, I’ll apologize. You can tell him that I won’t be so difficult this time. I’ll do what he says. I’ll let him do whatever he wants. I’ll crawl across the floor. I’ll lick his boots.” That was the kind of thing submissives did, wasn’t it?
“Dear.” Eleanor reached across the table. “I’m afraid you’ve misunderstood. It’s not personal. Jake is simply unavailable.”
“I can wait.”
“He won’t become available.”
“Why?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer without violating his privacy.”
Deana sat back in the chair, feeling deflated and tired. “Can I still get a refund?”
“Of course,” Eleanor said. “Whatever you prefer.”
Deana stared at her hands. The idea of losing control with any other man made her nauseated. She knew that was crazy—she barely knew Jake—but she couldn’t shake the feeling that if she was going to go through with this, it had to be with him. She couldn’t possibly do it any other way. Backing out on the dare seemed preferable, even if Adam and Gwen would never let her forget it.
“Can I let you know?” she asked.
“As you wish,” Eleanor replied. “Take your time. We’re here for you, whenever you need us.”
***
Rex leaned back in his chair and stretched out his shoulders. Quitting his job was something he’d been planning to do soon, anyway. He should feel happy and free, but try as he might, he couldn’t concentrate on the software code for the app he was writing. Every time he got started, he’d see Deana’s soft skin, hear her defiant comebacks.
His class assignment wasn’t due for a week, but he wanted to get through coding this section today. Four more credits and he’d graduate from UNLV with his BSc. Now that he could go to school full time, it would only take a semester.