And then my mouth...
***
The cool elegance of Olympus wrapped around me, a startling contrast to the hot, pulsing place I’d left behind.
Part of me wished I hadn’t left.
Part of me was playing out exactly what would have happened if I’d stayed there and waited for Toni to fight her way through the bodies toward me. I was a good judge of character and I'd spent enough time observing her over the last week to have a pretty good idea of what would've happened when she'd reached me.
She would have told me off, her pale skin flushing, eyes sparking. I would have listened, and it would have amused me and pissed me off at the same time. Right up until she pushed too far, and then I would have snapped at her. Then she would have shouted back, and I would have grabbed her, wrapping my hand in that glorious hair as I finally shut her up the way I'd wanted to since almost the first moment I'd seen her.
Would she moan when I kissed her? Shiver?
Would she freak out and back away? Slap me?
I didn’t know, but I was guessing that last one was the most likely option.
The light in the club changed as I settled down at a table near the railing on the upper level and I looked down at the stage below. A show was getting ready to start.
Bored already despite the fact that I'd just arrived, I looked around.
I didn’t want to watch some Dom spank or whip his – or her – chosen pet into submission. Nor was I in the mood for a public orgy or any of the exhibitionism that I usually found entertaining.
I wasn't even sure why I'd come here, but then a familiar form caught my eye. Contessa Reyes, with her sleek cap of black hair and pale gold eyes, was one of the loveliest women I’d ever seen. She was also one of my preferred subs because she knew exactly how to behave.
She saw me and bowed her head, looking up at me from beneath her thick lashes. The perfect submissive pose. My body automatically responded.
I nodded at the empty seat in front of me and a few moments later, she sat down, crossing one leg over the other. Unlike most of the subs here, she wasn’t dressed in leather, nor was she wearing a skirt so short I didn’t have to guess if she’d gone for a Brazilian. I liked my women submissive, but there were some styles that the bdsm set went for that I didn't find particularly attractive.
To each their own though.
Contessa wore a long, sleek skirt that went all the way down to her ankles but there was a slit in it that went halfway up her left thigh. The slit allowed me to see the vicious red of her boots, a red that echoed the corset she wore. Her dynamite curves practically poured out of the device, although I knew from experience, those curves were all natural. Large breasts, round, lush hips and the kind of ass that filled a man’s hands, Contessa looked like a pin-up from the forties.
And she was the complete opposite of Toni, which was exactly what I needed to get the tiny redhead out of my mind.
“I haven’t seen you here in a while,” she said, her words tinged with her Dominican accent.
“I've been busy.”
She reached out, her eyes seeking permission before she touched me. I gave it with a single nod.
Her fingers brushed across my knee. “You look tense, Sir. May I help with that?”
Instead of answering, I stood up and held out my hand.
In less than five minutes, we were in a private room and Contessa was on her knees in front of me.
It wasn’t her I was seeing though.
It was a diminutive redhead with a mouth I was dying to taste.
Chapter 7
Toni
“So…are you really a cop?”
My dance partner’s name was Luke McCoy, and we’d left the club ten minutes ago.
Before we'd gone, I’d traded out my heels for the little fold-up shoes I kept tucked inside my palm-sized purse. Whoever thought those up needed to be nominated for sainthood. Luke had taken my shoes as I traded them out and was still carrying them for me. Not only did he dance like a dream, he had to be one of the sweetest, sexiest guys I’d come across in a long time.
If I'd been looking for a relationship, he'd be a catch. He was a catch for just one night as it was.
“Really.” His eyes gleamed in the darkness and he grinned at me, a nice, easy smile. “Want to see my badge?” He wiggled his eyebrows. “Handcuffs?”
I laughed. “No. I don’t think that’s necessary. Although, I guess I could shoot your name off to my brothers. They know half the cops in the city.”
“I imagine.” He shifted his gaze to stare straight ahead, his posture stiffening slightly. “I…ah. Well, I've had a few run-ins with your older brother, Vic.”
I tensed, waiting for what inevitably came next.
Luke glanced over at me and shrugged. “What he’s done is his business, his problem. None of yours. But I’d seen you around before, and when you told me your name, I figured out why you looked familiar.” He paused, then added, “If you’d rather me just drop you off...”
“No.” Tugging him to a halt, I smiled at him. “I’ve...well, I’ve gotten use to people making snap judgements about me based off him. It’s nice to not have to put up with it.”
Luke stared down at me, and when he lifted a hand to cup my face, my heart started to race. When he lowered his head to brush his lips against mine, my breath caught, then squeezed inside my lungs.
Damn.
We ended up backing into one of the doorways of a nearby business, dark now, the closed sign telling us when we could find them open again. His hands held my face as he came back for another taste, and then another, his tongue slowly exploring my mouth even as I slid mine into his. I caught his tongue between my teeth and bit him gently, whimpering as he growled in his throat and pressed his body closer.
His cock was hard against my belly and I moaned as he rocked his hips.
He lifted his head, staring down at me and I licked my lips, enjoying the taste he'd left there. Scotch...and him.
“Luke.” My voice was breathless and I could feel my pulse pounding in my chest.
He pressed his mouth to my neck and I arched my head to the side, shivering as stubble rasped against sensitive skin.
“Do you want to come back to my place?”
At first, he didn’t reply, but then he straightened, looking at me with eyes that seemed to burn. “I can’t think of anything I’d like more. But…”
He stroked a hand down and gripped my hip. Through the material of my dress, his thumb stroked, around and around, stoking the heat inside me.
“I'm going to be upfront about this. I won’t call you. You won’t see me again, except maybe on the dance floor. I don't do repeats.”
“That sounds about perfect.”
***
We practically stumbled inside my apartment, hands and mouths all over each other. He was still kicking the door closed when I turned on him and grabbed the hem of his shirt, yanking upward. I wanted to see if he looked as good without it as he did with it.
Damn. He did.
His mouth closed over mine the second the shirt cleared his head, and I found myself pinned between him and the door. That suited me just fine. It was even better when he caught my hips and lifted me, bracing my weight using only his body. My dress rucked up around my waist as his hand worked its way between us. I heard his zipper, then felt his finger brush over the crotch of my panties before pulling it aside.
Foil tore and I whimpered as I felt the head of his cock pressing against me.
“Yes, please,” I gasped out.
His mouth gentled on mine and I tangled my hands in his hair.
He eased into me, one hand stroking up my thigh as he lifted his head, staring into my eyes. He was big and thick and I winced a little as I worked to accommodate him. It was a delicious kind of pain and it only made me wetter. And that made it easier to take him.
I hadn't expected him to take it easy. Most guys who wanted one-night stands weren't the slow and sweet type
. Especially not guys who I fully expected to be fucking me against the door.
Fuck that.
If I'd wanted tender, I'd have picked up a guy at an art gallery or wherever the hell guys like that hung out.
I twisted myself on the thick length stretching me, forcing him into me faster. He tensed, air hissing between his teeth as I used the arms around his neck as leverage to ride him. He moved harder when I started to whimper every time I dropped my body onto him, driving him deeper.
When I sank my nails into his shoulder, he made a rough noise, his hips jerking up. I cried out and Luke growled. I felt it click for him and he began to slam into me, driving me back against the door until I knew I was going to have bruises.
Just before I was ready to come, he stumbled us backwards towards the bed. It was too small for both of us, but I solved that problem by using my weight to drop us backwards so I landed on top of him. I wailed as it drove the tip of him into the end of me.
“You’re going to kill me,” Luke gasped, his teeth flashing in the darkness.
“You’ll die a happy man.” I could barely get the words out. Every nerve in my body felt like it was on fire.
He reached up and plucked at my nipples, the pressure light, gentle, using me to move. Watching him through slitted eyes, I started to ride him faster, a burning ache inside me spreading and widening until it was a void.
As if sensing my frustration, Luke twisted and flipped me over. He pulled back and I groaned, but all he did was pull me onto my hands and knees. When he drove into me this time, he wasn't gentle and I shuddered.
Eyes closed, I braced myself for another thrust and this one was hard enough to make me cry out.
My mind slid away and sensation took over.
Need took over.
I found myself thinking…dreaming…needing as I pushed back against him.
It wasn’t Luke’s hands on me now.
It was Ash’s.
He’d come up to me in the club. Touched me.
And now he was in bed with me.
Wrong, wrong, wrong.
A part of me was protesting, but it was a small part of me.
But it felt so right. I climaxed with a hoarse cry and Luke continued to pound away at me, fingers digging into my hips. I was still convulsing from my first climax when another started and sent me flying, all thoughts of Luke and Ash disappearing as I focused only on the pleasure.
Chapter 8
Ash
Contessa knelt over the table in front of me.
Her hands were bound, her face averted. I didn't want her looking at me. I’d told her not to come, not to speak, not to even whimper.
These weren't unusual commands for a Dom to give a Sub, but I had an asshole reason behind it. I supposed it was a sign of good self-insight that I acknowledged it was an asshole reason and not just me wanting to dominate her.
I didn’t want to think about Contessa, her pleasure, her submission.
I was thinking about my pleasure. What I wanted. I knew it made me not only an asshole, but a bad Dom. Contrary to what most people thought, being a Dominant wasn't about using a Sub for personal pleasure. Even if there was no emotional connection between a Dom and a Sub, a certain element of trust and understanding was involved. Even Subs who were into more pain than I understood were taken care of by their Dom.
I didn't want to take care of Contessa. Not like I should have. I was doing something I'd never imagined myself capable of doing.
I was pretending she was somebody else. A petite redhead with snapping blue eyes and a mouth that drove me insane.
At the thought, I surged inside Contessa and her pussy contracted, tightening around me until I groaned. She wasn't naturally as tight as some others I'd been with – as tight as I imagined that little redhead would be – but Contessa knew how to work those muscles.
I thrust into her again, not even attempting to be gentle, and I felt her convulse beneath me. She wasn't necessarily into pain, but she did like it rough. I didn't have to hold back with her. The issue was going to be her ability to hold back, I thought, as I drove into her again, hard and deep.
“Don’t come,” I reminded her, bringing my hand down on the satiny smooth skin of her rump. It wasn't much of a smack, barely turning her skin pink, but it served its purpose.
She nodded frantically. Her hands, bound at the small of her back, knotted into fists, the only indication of her struggle to push back an impending orgasm. She was the sort of Sub made for any type of orgasm play, whether it was making her come so many times that she passed out, or forcing her to hold back until she was sobbing for release. I'd never met anyone who got off as easily as she did.
Of course, that made me wonder how Toni came. Would she be the sort who could climax almost at will? Could she come from penetration alone? Would I be able to coax an orgasm from her in public with just a few simple touches or would I have to work at it? The thought of needing to take hours to get her to come wasn't as disappointing as it would have been with any other partner.
I pounded into Contessa, barely aware of her presence, my mind swept up in images of Toni. Of how it would feel to have her bent over, or spread out before me. If I told her not to come, I knew she wouldn't comply with a bowed head and consent. She’d snarl at me. She’d dare me. She would do what no Sub should ever do. She'd push back.
That feeling in the pit of my stomach tightened, and I knew I was close. I wasn't so far gone that I'd completely forgotten the woman beneath me. She deserved at least a release. I wasn't a complete bastard.
I barked at Contessa, “Come. Do it now, or don’t do it at all.”
She wailed as the climax she’d been fighting to hold back erupted, her pussy milking and contracting my cock. A shudder ran the entire length of her body.
“Can I…” she started to speak.
I yanked her up and covered her mouth with my hand, driving inside her without breaking the rhythm. I hadn't told her she could speak. I didn't want to hear her as she came.
I didn’t look at her, still focused on the mental image of Toni, bent over, snarling at me for daring to withhold a climax from her. Of how she would look when I finally let her come. How I could make her scream with pleasure.
It was the most erotic image I’d ever had in my life.
I came so hard, it was a miracle I didn’t blow through the damn condom.
Contessa shrieked against my hand as another orgasm slammed into her, her body convulsing.
It was...intense.
And it wasn’t enough.
She was still shaking when I pulled out, stripped off the condom and grabbed another. She let out a half-strangled sound as I drove into her again. I was determined to fuck the thought of Toni out of my mind.
***
“Who is she?”
Contessa slid onto the couch next to me nearly two hours later.
We’d both showered – separately, of course – and we were now waiting on a meal. Several hours of rough sex would drain anyone. Normally, I would've just left after my shower without a word, but I'd come down enough now to feel like an ass for the way I'd been with her and figured dinner was the least I could do. Besides, it wasn't as if I disliked her company.
Lifting my head, I studied her pretty face. “Excuse me?”
“I know when I’m being fucked, Ashford.” She managed a slight smile before she lowered her eyes.
She wasn't being submissive. Even outside of the bedroom, she was the sort of woman who avoided eye contact. I didn't know why. I'd never cared enough to ask.
Her tone was cordial enough as she continued, “I also know when I’m being used as a replacement for someone else. Are you involved with her?”
“I…” Scowling, I looked away. I didn't want to think about her. Not after...I shook my head. “No.”
Contessa ran her fingers over the arm of the couch. “Maybe you should be.”
Rising from the couch, I paced over to the window that faced out over the
city. It was treated with tinted glass, allowing me to see out, but nobody could see in. I'd fucked more than one woman up against that glass.
“Maybe you shouldn’t worry about it,” I said tightly. I didn't look back at her. “It’s my life, after all. We're good at fucking, Contessa. Don’t mistake it for something more.”
“Oh.” She laughed. It was all amusement and no bitterness. “Trust me, Ashford. I wouldn’t make that mistake. That'd be like keeping a lion for a house pet because you like cats. I’m not stupid.”
Suddenly, she stood. I still didn't look at her, but I watched her reflection in the window as she started for the door.
“I’m not terribly hungry tonight, I don’t think.” Before she slid out of the room, she met my eyes in the reflection. Her voice softened. “Don’t deprive yourself of everything that’s good in life. You’ve missed out on so much already.”
***
The drive home was grim, which completely negated the entire point of me going to the club.
Contessa and I rarely talked about personal things although we had enough in common. It was always about sex, or at least leading up to it. Outside of Olympus, we occasionally saw each other at various social functions, but we never spoke at them. It wasn’t that either of us went out of the way to avoid each other. There were plenty of other people who went to Olympus who ran in our social circles, and I occasionally talked to them.
No, I amended. I didn't talk to them. I sometimes talked to the men, or the women I didn't fuck. I never talked to any of the Subs I'd had sex with, and they never tried to initiate conversation. The one thing I made sure all of my Subs knew up front was that I didn't want any contact outside of fucking. I wasn't looking for a Sub to be a part of my life.
I blew out a breath as I punched the accelerator, sending the Bugatti blasting through the light just as it turned to red.
“Asshole,” I muttered.
I wasn't talking about any of the other drivers.