False Pretenses (12 page)

Dan flung the paddle onto the bed. “I need you. I can't wait,” he grunted. He closed his hands around her hips and thrust into her.

Emma arched with relief, satisfaction. “Fuck me like you spanked me—hard."

He groaned and pounded into her, driving his cock balls-deep into her channel. The slap of his powerful thighs, the abrasion of his coarse body hair sent blissful sizzles zinging through her. His breath blew hot against her ear and neck. With every thrust, his cock ravished her clit. Being filled had never felt so good, so right.

Emma rose onto her tiptoes and rocked against him, and Dan growled. “That's it. Take me, baby. Take my cock. All of it.” He shoved his hand under her hips and pressed the heel of his palm against her mons. Sharp sensation bombarded her inside and out.

The walls of her pussy drew tight, burning with tension. She was close, so close. “Harder, Dan. Harder. Harder,” she urged him.

Her orgasm hit with magnum force, more intense than the hardest whack Dan had inflicted on her sore ass. Shuddering, she jerked her head back. “Daaaannn, Daaaannn,” she wailed.

"Yes, naughty girl, scream for me,” Dan growled and slapped her ass. She let out another cry as the spank unleashed another shock wave of pleasure.

He gripped her hips with both hands again and thrust deep and hard; then he pulled out and shot ribbons of cum over her blazing ass and lower back.

Dan's ragged breathing mingled with Emma's. He braced himself on his fists. Perspiration dripped onto her from his sweating body. The scent of sex pervaded the room, filled her nostrils, and seeped into the marrow of her bones.

As their passion subsided, his cum cooled on her skin. “You didn't need to pull out,” Emma said. “I'm on birth control. I have an implant.” She nodded toward her arm.

He stroked the tiny lump under her skin. “I noticed,” he said, adding, “and you don't need to worry about anything. You're the only woman I've fucked without a rubber since I took a chance or two back in high school.” He swirled a finger in the semen coating her ass. Holy fuck, her butt ached. Deep within the muscle in a most satisfying way.

"I wanted to come on you.” He caressed the globes, massaged his spunk into her skin. “On your gorgeous cherry-red ass."

Pleasure and pain danced across her skin under his gentle touch. “That feels good.” She moved against his hand.

"I wasn't too hard on you, was I?"

Deliciously, devilishly so. “You were perfect."

A rumble of satisfaction erupted from his throat. “You were magnificent.” He paused. “You owe me twenty bucks.” Emma could hear the smile in his voice.

She twisted her mouth ruefully. “I never should have made that bet."

"Maybe I'll let you work it off with a spanking?"

Emma's pussy tightened. “Deal."

He drew circles on a throbbing cheek. “You're a natural bottom, you know."

"I realize that now.” Emma sighed.

Dan stopped caressing, stepped back, and eased Emma to a standing position. He gently gripped her upper arms and scanned her face. “Does that bother you?"

It was a relief to identify the yearning that had shadowed her for as long as she could remember. The emptiness of her unmet need had infiltrated her sexual relationships, her friendships, her career, her everything. The desire to be spanked had been like a deep well in her soul.

A well Dan had filled.

She'd never known until now what it felt like to be sated; she'd only ever been hungry. That had been the lure of the Rod and Cane story all along. Her cover—that she was seeking a man to spank her—had turned out to be the truth. She hadn't lied to the others; she'd fibbed to herself.

But her journalism career still mattered. What the hell was going to do? She couldn't publish the Rod and Cane story, but she couldn't
not
publish it.

"It's complicated,” she said. “I didn't expect to feel this way."

"Like what way?” He wound a strand of her hair around his finger, then tucked it behind her ear.

"Like everything I've believed about myself up to this point was make-believe.” Emma looked at him. “When did you know you liked to spank women?"

He shrugged. “I can't ever remember not being turned on by spanking. I'd wanted to spank my girlfriends in high school, but of course, I didn't know how to approach them with it, so I didn't. I spanked someone for the first time in college. My girlfriend wasn't into it, but to please me she allowed me to do it every now and then."

She hated the thought of Dan sharing that intimacy with other women. “Do you—did you—spank all your girlfriends?” Jealousy sharpened her tone.

Dan tapped her lightly on the nose. “Very few, actually. I decided to share spanking only with somebody I care about.” His gaze grew serious. “I'm falling for you, Emma. I want you to be my lover, my friend,
and
my spanking partner."

A burst of happiness exploded in her chest. “I can't imagine being with anybody but you,” she said. “Or being spanked by anyone else.” She did yearn to have her bottom peppered with stinging kisses, but only by someone she loved. “I feel like I belong with you and you with me,” she added and watched as a grin lit up Dan face.

Spanking had stripped away the dross of pretense, to reveal a pure gold nugget of truth. Emma peered up at Dan through her lashes. “I trust you completely."

"I trust you too,” he said.

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Chapter Eleven

Emma eyed Dan's roses on her coffee table. The blush-colored flowers evoked wonderful memories of his mastery, the connection and closeness forged by the spanking. Not that she needed flowers to remind her, she thought as she settled gingerly onto her sofa. To her satisfaction, the pain from the paddling two days ago hadn't dissipated the way the first spanking had, and she relished every twinge and tingle as she went about her business, feeling as if a little bit of Dan walked beside her throughout the day. Spanking branded together loving and dominance. The pain emphasized his tenderness, which in turn made the spanking that much more exciting.

She would see Dan again on Saturday night. Emma clenched her butt cheeks in hopeful anticipation. Within a very short period of time, she'd gotten hooked—on Dan and on spanking.

Curling her legs underneath her, she settled her laptop across her thighs and opened the file with the photos Dan had shot with her digital camera. Her pussy pulsed at the images of her scarlet backside. Against the whiteness of her stockings, her ass looked quite red indeed.

The color and pain probably would fade by Saturday, and Emma fervently hoped the evening's entertainment would include another round of spanking. She grinned. She still needed to pay off her “gambling debt."

Emma indulged in a final lingering look at the photos. She'd e-mail Dan a set of the best ones, but first she needed to put to bed some unfinished business. She opened a new windowpane and typed an e-mail to her editor.

Dear Jennifer:

Unfortunately, due to personal reasons, I am not going to be able to meet my commitment on the column about the Rod and Cane Society, the organization of men who spank their wives. I will write and submit a new article for my Sunday slot.

Short and not-so-sweet, but what else could she do? She'd hold off on sending the e-mail until she figured out exactly what to write about. She moved her mouse and opened the other e-mail, the one she'd planned to send.

Dear Jennifer:

My column on the secret men's organization that advocates spanking wives to maintain discipline is ready to go. During my six-month investigation of the Rod and Cane Society, I was privy to confidential discussions and meetings. I spoke with scores of women. I feel sure that public reaction to this story will be strong. For this reason, I used pseudonyms to protect the privacy and reputations of the women and men I interviewed. The column is attached. I'm assuming this will run in Cassidy's fourth Sunday slot as usual?

Emma

She had omitted to mention that had her sources known she was a news columnist, they would not have spoken to her, and she would have been booted out of Rod and Cane on her ass. But how she attained the information didn't matter anymore.

Emma clicked Delete.

Are you sure you want to delete this message?

A heavy knocking rattled her front door.

Emma jumped. She shut the lid of her laptop and set the computer next to Dan's roses.

"Who is it?” she called from the foyer.

"Let me in, Emma,” ordered a familiar male voice.

She groaned and opened the door. “What is it, Ron?"

Her ex looked as if he hadn't shaved since the last time she'd seen him, and his wrinkled T-shirt and jeans appeared to have been slept in. A powdery residue of something orange—cheese puffs, perhaps—was smeared across his chest. He moved forward, forcing her to step back, and she caught a whiff of stale beer as he entered.

Ron pushed the door shut with his body, then leaned against it. “I lost my job.” He raked a hand through his hair, something he'd been doing a lot of, judging from its disheveled state.

"Oh Ron, I'm sorry.” She touched his arm in sympathy.

His fixed a gaze on her face. “I need you, Em. I want to try again."

"I'm sorry. No.” Anger tightened her stomach at his manipulative ploy. Why did he put her in the position of rejecting him when he was already down?

"There's somebody else, isn't there?” He glared at her accusingly.

"Who there is or isn't doesn't matter. You and I were finished a long time ago. We should move on with our lives."

Ron jerked his gaze away, and Emma could tell the instant he spotted the roses. He stiffened, his entire body going rigid as if he'd turned to stone. He stomped into her living room. “Tell me you're not seeing someone!"

Emma planted her hands on her hips. “I am dating. And it doesn't involve you. Why can't you understand?"

"Does he know the kinky shit you're involved in? That you like to be spanked?"

"How—” She broke off as she remembered he'd listened to her tape and formed his own conclusions, erroneous at the time. Ron didn't know anything. He only thought he did.

"As I told you before, I'm not going to talk about that with you. Please leave. Don't force me to call the police.” She shouldn't have opened her door, and vowed if he ever showed up again, she would not let him in. Ron had turned into a borderline stalker.

Brrring.
Emma jumped when her telephone rang. Dan, probably. They'd spoken every night. Admitting she was dating was one thing, but talking to Dan in front of Ron wasn't going to happen. “Please go. I have to get that."

Brrring.

"So answer it.” He folded his arms over his chest. His defiant expression dared her.

Brrring.

He'd worn her patience clean through. Why did he push everything to the limit? “Get out."

Brrring.

"It's Flower Boy, isn't it?” An angry flush seeped into his unshaven cheeks.

Click!

Oh great. Her answering machine had picked up the call, was playing her outgoing message, and any second now, Dan's message would be broadcast for Ron to hear. But maybe it wasn't him. Maybe it was a telemarketer offering a great deal on aluminum siding. Maybe Summer was calling to warn her of something she'd read in her tarot cards. Maybe it was somebody who had the wrong number. Many positive possibilities existed.

"Hi, Emma?” Dan's disembodied voice floated into the room.

Ignoring Ron's smug expression, Emma dived for the phone.

"Hi, D—Hi!” She broke off, not wanting Ron to learn Dan's name. She didn't trust her ex. The less he knew about her life, the better.

"Did I catch you at a bad time?"

Let's see... Sexy new boyfriend on phone, angry ex standing in living room. Bad time? “No!” she said brightly, conscious of Ron eavesdropping. “No. I have somebody here...who was leaving.” She glared at Ron, but instead of departing, he plopped down onto her sofa. “Hold on a sec.” She shot Ron a scowl that said she'd deal with him later, and carried the phone out to her small patio and shut the door. She turned her back so Ron wouldn't distract her.

Out of sight, out of mind. Better already. “I'm glad you called,” she said, contentment warming her from head to toe.

"I had to hear your voice. I'm counting the minutes until I see you again."

Giddiness welled inside Emma, filling her with the buoyancy of happiness. “I miss you too. When I'm with you, I'm living. All the other stuff I do seems like just filler,” she said.

She rode a roller coaster of ups and downs. Each contact—phone call, date, lunch—rocketed her to the pinnacle, while each separation plunged her to the bottom. Very quickly he'd zoomed to the number-one spot in her life. Three little words danced on her tongue, but the first time she would tell Dan that she loved him, it would be in person, not over the phone when her stubborn, angry ex hovered only a few feet away. She glanced hopefully over her shoulder. Nope, he was still there.

"You fill my life. You fill me.” Sincerity streamed through Dan's tone as clear as the underlying meaning.

She blinked back spontaneous tears that surged on a burst of joy. “Thank you.” Emma sniffed.

"Why are you crying?"

"You make me happy.” She wiped a tear.

Amusement and tenderness infused his chuckle. “Ah, Emma. You're my girl.” He paused. “How's your ass?"

"Wonderful. Sore.” She rubbed a cheek. “Eager for more. I love it when you spank me.”
I love you.
Soon she'd speak the words.

"What do you love about it?"

"I-I like it when you're in control and I don't have any choice but to do what you say.” The words popped out of her mouth, and Emma widened her eyes. That was the crux of it, she realized. She derived great pleasure and soul-deep contentment surrendering to his will.
Dominated
, whispered the little voice that never strayed from the truth.

"You always have a choice, Emma."