Disgrace (8 page)

Relentless, and giving me only the briefest moment of respite, he pulls me up into his lap. We are almost nose to nose. He takes over and lifts my hips, making the necessary movement for me. I am incapable; only his strong arms are holding this limp body rigid. His lips cover mine, his mumbled words wash over me, but I can’t understand what he’s saying. I am floating somewhere near, held in his arms and just on the edge of heaven.

A deep groan leaves his throat, and I feel it rumble into my mouth as he continues to consume me with reverent kisses. He stops, and I swear time stands still. Our bodies are slick, our collective breath held. I can see the vein in his neck pulsing wildly, an indication that the only sound to be heard would be the synchronised beating of our hearts. Long seconds pass, and the silence is broken by a soft exhale. I watch as the corners of his lips turn up into the most amazing smile.

“Hey,” I say. He laughs and slides onto his side. I am still on his lap, albeit on our sides, and he is still buried inside me. He tugs the cover over our bodies and pulls me a little tighter against his chest, even if there really was no space at all to begin with. God, this feels good.

His hand traces my hairline, his finger gathering the stray hairs that are now stuck to my forehead. He carefully tucks them away and just stares at me. His soft brown eyes glow golden and shine bright. His dark brow and strong jaw are relaxed and those lips…smiling. “Hey.” He tucks my head under his chin and kisses my hair. I don’t think I have ever felt this cherished.

I get a sinking feeling all too soon because I know this isn’t real. This isn’t what he wants, and I am not going to ruin this and pretend that it is. I am not that naïve…not anymore. I hate that I am doing this, because what we have right now feels kind of perfect. But there is no point if we are not going to be honest. Whatever this is, it has no future if we can’t be honest.

“So Jason, now that you have that urge out of the way. When do we start?” I try to keep my tone light, but even I can hear the curt edge. His eyes narrow, and he purses his lips like he has some nasty taste in his mouth. I instantly feel bad and try to rectify my mistake. I soften my question. “Sorry, I didn’t mean it to come out like that but this”—I wiggle my finger between us because there is no distance at all due to the way he is still holding me—“this isn’t what you want is it?”

“Actually Sam, this is exactly what I want.” He tips my chin, closing my mouth because yet again he has rendered me speechless. “I want a relationship. Granted, we—and I mean both of us—it won’t ever be a conventional relationship, but I want this. I want your body; I want your time, and I want your submission. But there is no rush. We can sort all the details later. The important thing is you said yes.” He kisses the tip of my nose. “I got exactly what I wanted for Christmas. I got you.” He holds my stunned gaze with utter sincerity.

“I…I don’t know what to say.” I manage and he barks out a laugh.

“Did you get what you wanted?” he teases, and I can feel him swell inside me. I sigh.

“Hmm, well, I don’t remember asking Santa for several mind-blowing orgasms, but then he is magical, so maybe he just knew,” I mock.

“Several you say…I only counted two. But the night is young, and I do have another present I wanted to give you.” He flings the covers back and leaps from the bed, his semihard erection bobbing under its own weight, tempting me. I crawl over to the edge and stretch my hand out to try and grab me some.

He steps away. “Nah-ah, naughty girls have to wait for their treats.” He bites his bottom lip, and his eyes drag salaciously over my nakedness. I am pretty sure I could tempt him back, but he obviously has plans.

“You going somewhere?” I tuck the loose sheet around me and watch him step into his clothes.

“
We
are going to the club.” He wiggles his brow, his face alight with mischief and wickedness. I roll my eyes.

“This is you not rushing. I’d hate to see you in a hurry. You must be like Wylie Coyote on speed.” I shuffle to the end of the bed with a little sadness swirling in my tummy. It’s going to be hard to believe he wants more when the first thing we do is head for the club. But if I don’t trust him, I should just back out now and I don’t want to, not really. I have reservations, huge reservations, but trust isn’t one of them.

“We don’t have to go. But I thought as it is closed to the public…”

“No, no, it’s perfect. The sooner the better. The anticipation is killing me.” I stand with the sheet wrapped like a toga, loose and dipping low. He steps up to me and lifts me into his arms. There is safety in these arms; I feel it in my bones.

“I want this more than you know, but we really don’t have to start today.” The concern etched on his handsome face combined with his tender words is my undoing.

“I want to.” I don’t need to tell him twice. I wouldn’t get the chance. His lips consume me, his embrace surrounds but in-spite of his secure hold, I fall.

I have been silent since Jason pulled his car into the reserved parking space at the rear of the club. I know the club is closed, but I also know why we’re here. Besides, Jason is one of the owners, so hours of business don’t really apply to him. Honestly, my heart hasn’t really recovered a normal beat pattern since we finished in my bedroom a short time ago, but I try to take some calming breaths nonetheless. I take enormous comfort from Jason’s protective arm around my waist and then his tender hold of my hand as he leads me through the back office. He leaves me for a moment—to get a key, I presume—then he leads me along the corridor and stops just outside one of the private rooms. The only sound is the blood rushing with the fierce pumping of my heart, but I doubt he can hear that. He swings the door wide open and motions for me to step inside. The lion’s den, where, up until this moment, I have always been the lion tamer: strong, in control and with wicked whipping skills. Not for the first time since agreeing I question my sanity.

Jason makes me crazy, causes me do crazy things at the very least. Why on earth would I relinquish control like this? But Jason steps up behind me, and all I feel is burning heat and desire for him, to please him. He wraps his strong arms around my waist, holding me tight against his frame; his embrace is so secure it steals my breath. My body is alive with tiny electrical currents dancing over my skin. I tingle from head to toe with longing, lust, and a need so raw I am helpless to do anything but listen to it. Listen to my body and trust that Jason is the right man to relinquish everything I hold dear.

His soft lips caress my neck, and I move to give him all the access possible. He takes his time breathing me in, peppering my skin with a million light kisses, down my neck, along my collarbone and settling on my desperate lips. Gentle and reverent attention morphs into urgent and needy, and an uncontrolled moan escapes the back of my throat. My twitchy fingers ache to hold him. His hands are intertwined with mine, and he is holding them firmly at my side. His deep chuckle and smile against my lips is evidence enough that he knows exactly the effect he has on me. He pulls back and drops all contact, smiling wider at the instant result of his absence and my involuntary deflated posture.

“Hold out your hand.” His deep tone drops a little lower, I recognise the authority in the timbre of his voice. I get a flash of a thousand prickles on my skin. The sensual lighting reflects the glow of instant perspiration. I am surprised with my own innate response to his unmistakable switch from affable to dominant, a testament to his natural commanding aura. The ease with which he wears his cloak of Dominance is unmistakable, and I find I am intoxicated. I immediately offer my hand in supplication. His eyes shine dark and crinkle with pleasure. He reaches into his back pocket and slowly releases a long strand of diamonds; they must be almost a metre long. I struggle to swallow the thick, dry lump in my throat. The cool weight sparkles in my palm. I know from the clarity of the crystal shine, that these are the real deal.

“I want you to wear this,” Jason states without inflection, “and nothing else.” He pauses but remains impassive despite my sudden sharp intake of breath. I am a little stunned and hesitate a moment too long and in a much sterner tone he adds. “Strip…now.”

I jump a little but check myself. I am by no stretch a newbie here, yet you wouldn’t know it today, since I’m very much acting like one. I straighten my shoulders and step back. I tug at my sweater pulling it over my head, one hand clasped tightly around the diamonds.

Jason turns his back and takes a seat in the winged back chair in the corner of the room, shadowed slightly in the darkened room but no doubt with an unobstructed view of me. I kick off my shoes and pull my leggings down my legs. My confidence in undressing is completely at odds with my riotous nerves, which are alive with anxiety. My legs start to judder when I rest on each one in turn to remove my panties, shaking uncontrollably. I quickly slam each foot flat to stop the visual verification of my uncertainty. I unclip my bra and stand for a moment staring at the darkness in the corner, only Jason’s suede walking boots visible.

I let the chain drop to its full length and put my head through the large loop. The diamonds glint and sparkle even in the dimly lit room. The chain falls over the curve of my breast, my light coffee-coloured skin a stark contrast to the pure crystal shards of light reflecting across the room. The necklace hangs low and skims just below my belly button. It is cold on my skin, but that isn’t the reason my nipples are hardened peaks or why my breathing is now shallow, rapid pants. Jason makes an exaggerated, disgruntled sounding cough, an ‘ahem’ noise. I pull my brows together for a moment of thought. What could I have done to cause his displeasure? It takes effort to think this way. I am not used to putting myself on the other end of the whip…so to speak. I shake my head and sniff at my own ‘special’ moment. I drop to my knees. I lower my head and place my hands on my thighs palms up, my knees spread but not wide, first position.

We haven’t discussed boundaries or limits, and I am really not prepared to give up too much too soon, not when we have yet to start our proper negotiation.

The chair scrapes with the sudden movement of Jason standing, he takes three large strides and is directly in front of me. His foot taps the inside of one of my knees. I resist the pressure, my jaw clenching tight enough to make my head pulse with the pressure. The thought that this is never going to work flashes across my mind and I exhale in a loud puff through my nose. Jason drops to his haunches and lifts my chin so I am staring directly into his golden brown eyes. The look of adoration goes some way to appease my anxiety. His dark, lust-filled stare is deeply erotic and calms me enough that the slightest pressure from his other hand has my thighs spreading wider under his fingertips. He groans with satisfaction and draws in a deep breath.

“Hmm, fuck, Sam…You have no idea what you do to me like this. I am one lucky man.” His smile is so genuine it steals my breath like a hit to the chest. My own timorous pleasure at his words tips my lips into a reciprocal smile. He stands up, keeping his hand under my chin forcing me to arch and stretch my neck to keep eye contact.

“Tell me what you are, Sam.” His deeply possessive tone sends an erotic chill up my spine and settles in a swirl in my tummy. I struggle to swallow the lump the word I know he is waiting to hear are creating in my throat. “Sam,” he repeats with more force, “tell me what you are.” His grip tightens. His eyes darken with resolve and unmistakeable possession.

“Yours.” I barely get the word out. My voice is croaky, but I feel the truth of my declaration like it is carved into the ancient oak of the St Andrew’s Cross he is no doubt going to tie me to. As if reading my mind, he scoops me up, with no effort at all, into his arms and carefully places me on the plinth that holds that very cross. He methodically straps my ankles and my wrists and only pauses once he is finished. I don’t bother testing the restraints. I know he is more than proficient at his job; I am just struggling with mine. I haven’t ever been a willing submissive for my own pleasure, and this new role is testing me on every level.

“What are you, Sam?” His throat obviously constricts, and he slowly swallows. The gravely words escape on a whisper.

“Yours.” I raise my chin and meet his gaze. I feel a fire burn inside me, a scorching flame, fuelling the sort of strength I know I am going to need… if I am, in fact… his.

“Mine.” He cups my neck and swoops in to steal a kiss that takes us both by surprise with its intensity and urgency. He rests his forehead against mine while we both regain our breath. He runs his hands down the length of the necklace then twists and loops it until it is wrapped several times around my neck. He unclips it to make the last few loops. The single strand is now a tight choker, holding my neck straight and high. “Safe word, Sam, what’s your safe word?” His lips are at my ear, and his cool breath chills my skin, goosebumps dance on the surface like little beacons of panic.

“You said we’d go slow, Jason.” My voice is pitched with worry, and his hand instantly soothes with a gentle stroke down my cheek. He plants a tender kiss on my lips.

“We will go slow but I want you to be able to stop this if it even gets to be a little too much. I am not going to ruin this opportunity with my impatience…” I nod with relief and understanding. “So a safe word?” he repeats.

“Switch,” I say after a moment of thought. I struggle to swallow, my throat is so dry. Honestly, I can’t remember a time when I’ve felt so conflicted, so turned on, so alive. I have been numb for so long I no longer have the strength or will to fight this pure desire saturating my soul.

He gives a curt nod and flashes a wicked smile. He slips two fingers through the choker tightening it and restricting my breath in one move. I gasp, my body tenses, and my muscles flex against the restraints. I feel the intensity of my desire like a molten pool of liquid building in my core. My eyes widen when the next whispered words cut the sexual tension with a precision scalpel.