Crave (9 page)

“Wanting the floor to open up and swallow me,” she said.

“You can let go of her hand now,” Reece told Kennedy.

Slowly he did so.

“I’ll, er, wait in my room for you?” she suggested.

“Mine,” Reece responded. He reached into his pocket, moved aside her panties and pulled out his key. “Room nine thirty-seven.”

She nodded.

“Be waiting on your knees. Naked.”

Though she flushed, she responded with, “Of course. Sir.”

“Very nice,” Kennedy said. “You’ve had some training.”

“From Reece,” she said. After excusing herself, she walked toward the bank of elevators, and he watched her until the doors slid closed behind her.

“What the hell are you doing with her? Are you a slow learner?” Kennedy asked. “You didn’t seek her out, did you?”

“No chance.”

“Since no one gets in without an invitation, I’m assuming Julien aided and abetted her? I thought he promised to keep her away from you.”

“She convinced him. I imagine he had a hard time telling her no.”

“Not sure I could have, either. You told us she was beautiful. At the time, I was sure it was the delusion of heartbreak speaking.”

It wasn’t. And time had only made her more attractive in Reece’s eyes. “I’m not sure whether to thank him or throw the first punch.”

“I brought a case of Scotch to the island as a birthday present for the old man. But if you want a couple of bottles from it, I’d say you deserve them.”

“May take you up on it.”

“Tell you what. I’ll send up some. Trying to convince you to buy stock in the company, anyway.”

“Do you always have an ulterior motive?”

“It’s my God-given obligation to increase the Aldrich bottom line for the next generation. Failure will not be treated kindly.”

“Said without much hostility.”

“It’s still there. Just more cleverly disguised than in the past,” Kennedy replied.

“You here with anyone?”

“No. Avoiding young ladies of Mayflower lineage has become a full-time job. Who the hell knew there’d be that many of them?”

Kennedy was photographed with someone new at almost every event. Recently he’d been named Bachelor of the Year by a popular gossip magazine, and a handful of women had competed for the honor of removing his name from future consideration. Reece knew his friend was under tremendous pressure from his family to carry on the Aldrich lineage, but he’d shown little desire to find a baby mama.

“I take it you’re not sharing your Sarah?”

“I’m not.”

“Pity. Not that I blame you. She’s a beautiful woman.”

In his pocket, Reece ran his thumb across her lacy boy shorts. “She was a coward.”

“There’s a fine line between real fear and being a coward,” Kennedy replied. “I’ve walked it myself a few times.”

Reece nodded.

“Enjoy your evening. I’ll see what delights our host has provided.” Kennedy glanced toward a group of seated and apparently single ladies. “And hope none of them are angling for a three-karat rock from my grandmother’s safe.”

“I’m meeting Julien for basketball in the morning.”

“I may crash your party unless I find a reason to stay in bed.”

“I’m not sure whether to hope I see you or not.” Reece excused himself to catch an elevator.

Kennedy’s words played in Reece’s mind. Kennedy had more experience with subs and had seen more examples of the complex relationship dynamics than Reece ever would. Had he unfairly labeled Sarah as a coward? And would that make any difference? She’d run from him without a word. He’d lain in bed night after night trying to figure out why she’d left. Another man? Maybe she’d found someone else. Or fallen out of love. In his wildest thoughts, he’d wondered if something from her past had caught up with her.

At first he’d walked around in numb disbelief. Then he’d been hurt. Days later, anger had set in. Eventually fear had replaced it. He’d woken up in a sweat, wondering if she was out there, cold, afraid, hurting, needing him.

In the dozens of scenarios he’d dreamt up to explain her absence, the fucking collar hadn’t been one of them.

Even now, her reaction seemed absurd.

How could she ever have thought that she was anything less than the most important thing in his life? That he’d compel her to wear something she abhorred? And, worse, why the hell hadn’t she trusted him enough to turn to him?

He might have thought that he’d dealt with all the emotions she’d caused when she’d gone away, but there they were, rippling in the present, threatening the future.

The bell dinged and the doors slid open. He walked down the hall and noticed that his door was propped open by the security latch.

When he entered, Sarah was on her knees, facing him, naked. Nothing mattered except Sarah and the moment.

She’d draped her dress across the foot of his bed and had carefully tucked her shoes beneath the mattress. Her fingers were laced behind her neck. The image of her there, breasts invitingly thrust toward him, held him riveted.

“Before you left, I would somehow make it through the day because I imagined coming home to you.”

“I’m here now.”

He hung the ‘do not disturb’ sign and closed the door behind him before facing her. “I often wanted to find you like this, in that position. Who taught you?”

“You did.”

“Two years ago, you weren’t as graceful, as peaceful.”

“I’ve been practicing. In the hopes that I’d have the chance to show you what I’ve learnt. You kept asking me to do it. But I lacked the confidence. I took some yoga classes. Went to a couple of workshops at a club in Denver. After we broke up—”

“After you ran.”

“After I ran,” she repeated. “I found regular guys boring. I wanted what we’d had.”

He rested his shoulders against the wall. “You had some success in your search?”

She shifted uncomfortably, more from the question than from the position, he guessed.

“No. Finding someone at the club who’d whip me wasn’t difficult. And I went on a few dates. I met a few really nice guys who I found boring. And a few Neanderthals who were also boring.”

“Worse than me?”

“Swinging from ropes and scratching their hairy bellies. Much worse than you.” She smiled, but let it quickly fall. “I haven’t had a serious relationship with anyone since you.”

He didn’t want her words to matter. But they did. “We need to shower,” he said.

“I was afraid you’d never offer.”

He extended his hand to help her up, and he continued pulling until she was against him. “I’m going to fuck you hard tonight,” he warned.

“Good.”

With that, she extracted herself from his grip and flounced toward the bathroom. In the doorway, she paused and looked over her shoulder. “For the record, I never found you boring.” Then she crooked her finger, silently inviting him to follow her.

What the hell had he agreed to? “You’re forgetting who the Dom is.”

“Remind me.”

She was already in the shower stall under the spray when he joined her. “I think you’re looking for a beating,” he said, pinning her arms above her head.

“We had discussions about being a brat,” she said. “You were clear that you don’t tolerate that kind of behavior. So, let me be honest since you only promised me a weekend. I want you.”

He inserted a leg between hers.

“I masturbate to fantasies of you,” she confessed.

“Do you?”

“I have dreams about you. And more, I want to please you.”

“Hump my thigh. Get yourself off.”

When they’d started dating, she’d been somewhat inexperienced. He’d found her naïveté charming. It had taken a while to break down some of her barriers, but a few inhibitions had remained, even at the end.

She adjusted her position, bending her knees. “This would be easier if you’d release my arms.”

“Deal with it.”

“Yes, Sir,” she said, tilting her pelvis forward.

“Nice.” He braced himself to take more of her weight. “Did I embarrass you in front of my friend?”

“No, Sir. I understood.”

“What did you understand?”

“Earlier you said you’d test me. You were proving that you meant it.”

“Is that all?”

She closed her eyes and sank her teeth into her lower lip.

“Answer the question, Sarah.”

“No.” She opened her eyes. “Submission is part of being with you. You expect it at all times, and you don’t hide who you are or what we share from anyone.”

He nodded. “Your pussy is getting slick.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Are you close to coming?”

“Yes.”

“Don’t.”

She looked up, took a breath and nodded. “Anything you say, Sir.”

He loosened his grip. “Wash me.”

“My pleasure.”

Reece knew she’d been close to coming, and that she’d stopped without hesitation or protest showed him how hard she was trying.

She unwrapped the hotel’s bar of soap and lathered it before asking him, “Front or back first, Sir?”

The idea of her hands on his dick was problematic. He was trying to show who was in charge.

“If you’ll turn around?” she asked.

He did, and she ran her hands over his shoulders before making swirling motions on her way down.

She crouched to rub his buttocks.

“I’m sure my ass isn’t that salty,” he said.

“Trying to be thorough, Sir.”

With the same deliberate intention, she washed his legs. “You’re still working out,” she observed.

“It helps with the stress level.”

“Do you mind facing me?”

When he did, his semi-hard cock was only inches from her face. Looking up at him, she licked the head.

“More,” he instructed.

She took his length into her mouth, gagging as he hit the back of her throat.

He showed mercy, for a moment, then he captured her head and held it prisoner while she licked and sucked.

He closed his eyes. Her sweet moans drove him on.

It wouldn’t take him long to come, he knew.

Damn vixen changed her pace, moving faster and faster. “Sarah.”

“Uh-huh,” she mumbled.

Flogging her had given him a hard-on. And he’d been in a state of semi-arousal since. He was contemplating stopping her when she tightened her grip. “
Fuck
.” He groaned as thick, hot cum pulsed from him.

He reached for the wall with one hand, needing it for balance, while he kept the other tangled in her hair.

His perfect little submissive—the woman he’d wanted as his own—captured every drop.

Then, shocking him, humbling him, she lapped up the last drop, looked up at him and swallowed.

“Sarah…”

“Thank you, Sir,” she said.

Where had this woman been while they’d been living together?

He helped her to stand and gently kissed her forehead. “Thank
you
,” he said. “But if you think that means I’m done with you—”

“It always has in the past.”

“You really are looking for trouble.”

“Of the most delicious kind.”

He backed her against the tile and again put his leg between hers. “Finish yourself off.”

She rocked back and forth, fast then slow.

“Will you touch me, Sir?”

“I’ll be a generous Dom and allow you sixty seconds to orgasm before denying you.”

“But—”

“Be careful when you look for trouble with me, my Sarah.”

“So, no paddling?”

“For that offense? Certainly not. Get on with it before I change my mind.”

She pushed away from the tile and wrapped one arm around his neck. With her free hand, she made figure eights over her breasts, pinching her nipples as she did so.

“Creative,” he acknowledged. “Thirty seconds left.”

Her motions became frantic, and she made panting sounds as she rubbed up and down his leg.

“Reece…”

“Do it,” he said. “Come on me, Sarah.”

He pinched her ass cheek.

She pitched forward with a scream. Her climax warmed his skin, satisfying him.

He supported her body as her breathing slowly returned to normal.

“Uhm. I never knew that could feel so good.”

“You’re welcome. Now wash yourself.”

“I was hoping you would do it for me.”

“I’m going to watch.”

He scooped the bar of soap from the floor of the shower and handed it to her. “Take your time,” he told her.

Even though she’d given him head and she’d masturbated herself on his leg, she still looked down as if embarrassed. More and more, she intrigued him.

She made a lather, slid the soap onto a shelf then glided her hand across her chest and breasts. She spent long, driving-him-mad seconds rubbing her forefingers back and forth over her nipples. “They’re sensitive from the clips earlier.”

He brushed her hands aside. “So, does this hurt?” He squeezed hard enough for her to suck air between her teeth. “How about now?” He twisted each in an opposite direction.

“Damn, Sir.”

“Harder?” He demonstrated. “Less pressure?” He eased off a little.

“Harder.” She shook her head. “I mean, whatever you say.”

“Good girl.” He squeezed tight.

“Sir, you’re making me horny again.”

“Unfortunate that you have to wait a while before your next orgasm.”

“Then a lighter touch would be appreciated.”

He continued to torment her relentlessly.

She gasped. “Please, please, please…”

He wasn’t sure what she was begging for. Reece was willing to bet she didn’t know, either.

Instinctively she swayed toward him. Knowing he could make her come by just flicking a finger across her clit, he backed off. “You need to finish washing.”

“Yes,” she said.

Her eyes were glassy as she reached for the soap again. Water ran down her body in gentle rivulets, rinsing her clean as quickly as she lathered.

“Take your time,” he reminded her.

“Do you have any dollar bills?” she teased.

“Earlier could have definitely qualified as a lap dance,” he said.

As she soaped her mound, he wondered which of them was being tortured most.

“You remembered how I like your pubic hair,” he said.

“I got a Brazilian wax.”

“Good start.”

She frowned up at him. “Sir?”