What She's Looking For (12 page)

Maybe she felt a trifle guilty
spending his money, but she loved the jeans she bought with it. Now she just
had to drum up the courage to actually
wear
them. One of the nice things
about not eating enough was that her ass had somewhat come back under control.
It was usually an embarrassment to her. It didn’t matter how much men looked at
it (a lot), or how many of her lovers hadn’t been able to keep their hands off
of it (most of them); she still didn’t like it. She’d always wanted to be
sleek, athletic, but mother nature had given her something else entirely.

Now she stood in front of her
mirror fastening the top button. She was already blushing and she hadn’t even
looked at herself yet. She could feel the clutch of the denim at the curves of
her buttocks, molding them, and emphasizing their weight in contrast to the
narrowness of her waist. She took a deep breath and walked out to the living
room, her bare feet padding on the wood floor.

Would he be on time? What a stupid
question. She took one last look at her phone — 7:57 — before slipping it into
her front pocket. Her heart had begun a steady gallop as soon as she’d shimmied
into the snug denim, and standing there in the quiet foyer, her hands in the
prescribed position, it felt as if the very room pulsed with her heartbeat. She
smiled at herself wondering what he’d think of the shirt she’d decided on. She
really loved the shirt, despite feeling like a fossil while browsing through
the store where she found it. She was at least twenty years outside that
store’s target demographic.

There was the sound of a car
pulling up outside, and Ashley stifled a yelp, looking around with an absurd
urge to make sure everything was straight and clean. What the hell was she
doing?

There was a sharp pair of knocks on
the door, then a pause. She licked her lips and tightened the lacing of her
fingers behind her head. She didn’t want her trembling to be obvious.

The door opened, and she felt the rush
of cold air at her bare feet. Boots clomped behind her and the door closed.

“Hello, Ashley.”

* * *

Parker was glad she couldn’t see
him, because he knew he walked through that door with a huge erection tenting
his jeans. He’d been hard and throbbing before he even got back home. He’d
hoped she’d take the chance, feared she’d be too scared to, and dreaded the
sinking feeling he’d suffer through if that door didn’t open. It was more than
just about that door; it was an opening to the next chapter in their lives.
Maybe it would be a life together, maybe it would be something even more than
that. He had his hopes, but he had to be realistic. Not just for her sake, but
for his. He didn’t want any more broken hearts. He’d rather live out his days
alone, than feel that again. And he was damned sure he wasn’t going to hurt her
either. Not like that motherfucker of an ex.

Keeping a lid on his elation at the
unlocked door was almost as hard as stifling the “God DAMN” that was at his
lips upon seeing the sight that greeted his entry. She looked even better than
he’d imagined she would. He loved women in tight jeans, and he didn’t even
wonder why anymore. It was just one of the many things he liked. One of the
many things he was determined to enjoy with Ashley, if he could just figure out
a way not to screw everything up.

He closed the door and leaned
against it, drinking in her beauty. Oh God, how was he going to do this!

The lush curves of her buttocks
beckoned, the cleft clearly delineated by the snug fabric, dividing and
emphasizing each individual cheek. He wanted to spank them, and bite them — in
that order. He wanted to bend her over that couch and make her cry out as he
forced every last inch of his hard cock into her ass. Take her to that dark,
confused place where pain and pleasure, embarrassment and ecstasy meld into one
heady, intoxicating mix.

He reached out and cupped a
buttock, feeling the curve molded to his hand. It was made for his hand.

His.

He squeezed it, and she jerked.

“Be still, Ashley.” His voice was
quiet. He hoped she couldn’t detect the strain he felt. He wanted to take her,
make her his with every fiber of his being, but he remembered his declaration
to her.

Take it slow, asshole. Great
plan. Your dick is going to fall off if you subject yourself to much more of
this.

Parker walked around her, slowly,
his eyes roving anywhere, everywhere. His hand ran across her buttocks to clasp
her hip as he stopped in front of her. She had her eyes downcast, her cheeks
suffused with that bewitching blush of hers. That blush was a provocation,
calling to the predator in him. “I’m glad you made the right choice, Ashley.
You don’t know how glad.”

She smiled, but left her eyes down,
the lashes fanning her cheeks. His gaze dropped to her shirt. It was a plain black
cotton tee, with block white lettering over her prominent breasts:

BRAT

“Taking a chance with this shirt,
aren’t you?” He just managed to keep his smile submerged. His little defiant
Ashley. How he looked forward to taming that defiance, breaking it to his will.

The back of the shirt read:

AND PROUD OF IT

She smiled again. “You said it was
up to me. This is one of my favorites.”

He held her chin in his hand, thumb
stroking her cheek. “You know what brats get don’t you?”

Shrugging, she snuck a glance up at
him, the edges of her mouth curled up.

“You were doing just fine,” he
said, with a small negative movement of his head. “Lower your eyes, Ashley.”

She did, the blush darker. “Why do
you do this?”

He stood silent a moment,
considering. He’d never actually had a sub ask him that before. He wasn’t going
to play her game though.

“We’ll talk about that later. Right
now just do what I say.”

He could see the storm cross her
features, a fleeting consternation, then the practiced neutrality she was so
proficient at, returned. He longed to get at the Ashley such neutrality so
jealously protected, longed to see everything exposed to him. The real her, not
the playacting, defiant, woman.

“So what’s the answer, Ashley? What
do brats get?”

Perfect white teeth nibbled at the
corner of her lush lower lip. “I — I don’t know, Sir.”

He grinned. “They usually get what
they really want.”

Parker moved back behind her,
standing close to her so his hard length rubbed against her denim-clad ass, a
testament to her effect on him. “Stretch your arms up over your head.”

“What—”

“Now, Ashley. Just do it.” He
clasped her hip hard in his hand, his thumb digging into her right buttock.

Grasping her shirt at her waist he
pulled it slowly up her torso. He enjoyed the shiver that ran through her as
his fingers played over her ribs, the swells of her breasts.

Thank you, God.

She wasn’t wearing a bra. “You’re
in trouble for that shirt, but you’re a good girl for this,” he said, reaching
his arm around her and bouncing one of the heavy globes in his palm.

Ashley gasped, then moved to lower
her arms.

“No. Keep them up.”

Parker was pleased to see her
comply. Maybe this would be easier than he’d feared?

Running his palms down the muscles
of her back, both hands came to rest at the nip of her waist. He loved the
softness of her flesh, the smoothness of her skin. He knew he could touch her
all night and never tire of it.

Cupping both of her denim clad
cheeks in his hands, he squeezed them harshly, then leaned in, his lips
tickling her ear as he spoke. “I love this. You look wonderful in these. Too
bad we have to take them off.

“We don’t have to, you know.” Her
voice trembled almost as much as her body.

“Oh yes, we do. Off, Ashley.” He
released her cheeks from his grip, instantly missing the feel of her lush flesh
in his hands. He’d remedy that as soon as she had those jeans off.

Enjoying the sight of her trembling
hands struggling with the buttons, he watched her wide hips move as she worked
the tight jeans down. When she bent at the knee he stopped her, a firm grip on
her waist again. “No, not like that. This is something I want you to remember.
You bend at the waist when undressing in front of me. In front of any man. A
woman’s body is meant to be appreciated. You’ll learn to display it properly.”

“Parker—”

In a low, measured voice he said: “Just
do as you’re told, girl. I think you’re getting a spanking tonight anyway, so
we’ll just add this to the total.”

“Why? What did I do?”

“You didn’t say ‘Sir’, remember
Ashley?” He was glad she couldn’t see his smiling face.

She shuddered, and moved the jeans
to her knees.

“Keep those legs straight, ankles
together.” His hand tapped the outside of her strong thigh.

Parker’s heated gaze took in the
pleasant width of her hips, the generous buttocks enhanced by purple lacy
boy-shorts. She knew how to dress to please, that was for sure. Almost as if
she’d done this for another Master before.

The thought made him angry, for it
inevitably made him picture Terry with his brutish hands on her. Defiling her.
The woman he was beginning to think of as
his
. He wished he could wipe
away the stain of him, cleanse her of his touch. He grit his teeth.

Her jeans were bunched at her
ankles, and he held one of her hands for her as she extracted her feet from
them. She straightened, obviously uncertain what to do with her hands.

“Ashley?” He kept his voice quiet,
even, despite the overwhelming urge to fall upon her voluptuous body like a
pack of wolves.

“Yes … Sir?”

He smiled. “Good catch, girl.”

Easing a hand over the lace clad
curve of her left buttock, his fingertips slipped under the delicate fabric to
test the soft flesh. “This is something else you need to remember. When you
bend for me, you stay bent until I give you further direction. I may want to
look at that big bottom of yours.”

She inhaled sharply, her head
twitching to the side, as if she wanted to look back at him, but thought
otherwise.

“Yes, Sir,” she said, her gritted
teeth unmistakable in her tone.

“Put your hands behind your back.”

Grabbing her wrist in his hand, he
pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket. She jumped as he clapped her wrist
in the steel.

He didn’t normally use cuffs, as
they were more apt to hurt a girl’s delicate wrists, but he wanted her to feel
the bite of them tonight. He’d guessed —probably correctly, judging from her
reaction — that she’d never felt the cold harshness of handcuffs before. Good.

“Relax, Ashley,” he whispered,
clapping her other wrist in the cuffs. He noted the desperate tension in her
hands, her fingers laced so tightly together, the flesh was white. “I won’t
hurt you.”

“You saying a spanking won’t hurt?”

He shook his head with a quiet
laugh. “What would be the point if it didn’t? You know that’s not what I mean,
girl.”

She blew out a breath, a gesture
that would get her in deeper trouble once she was better trained. But at that
point, he felt it better to let it go. He was pushing her pretty hard already.

“I don’t want you to spank me,
Parker — Sir. Please.” Her voice was almost a whisper.

He held her cuffed wrists in one
hand, yanking down the boy shorts with the other, leaving them bunched just
below the curve of her cheeks. His fingers slipped between her legs, gliding
through her slick labia. He brought the moist digits to his nose, his
inhalation of her scent exaggerated for her benefit.

“Your pussy says otherwise, Ashley.
It doesn’t lie.”

He licked her from his fingers,
savoring her taste. Wonderful.

She surprised him when she tried to
move, her fingers twisting in his hand. He gripped her shoulder tightly with
his free hand, his thumb stroking her.

“It’s okay, girl. Calm down now.” He
laid a kiss at the base of her neck, the smell of her hair all around him. “Nothing
to be scared of. Just a little spanking, then we talk some more.”

“Parker — Sir.”

“What is it, Ashley?” He lay his
head against the side of hers, his eyes looking down, enjoying the heaving of
her breasts as she took deep breaths. She was getting more agitated by the
minute, a new urgency creeping into her voice.

“I — I don’t think I can do this. I
mean, I want … you. Not — I don’t know if I can do it again.”

“Did he spank you, Ashley?”

“A few times, Sir,” she said, the
tension in her body ratcheting up by the second, the contradictory counterpoint
to her hard, rose nipples and the scent of her arousal filling the room.

“Did you like it? Be honest with
me.”

“I don’t know. I didn’t want to
like it.”

“But you did, didn’t you, girl?”

She tried to twist out of his grasp
again, and he gripped her harder, stilling her. “Answer me, Ashley. I need to
know.”

“No … I don’t know.” Her head
dropped. “Yes, part of me did. Please you’re hurting me, Sir.”

Parker relaxed his grip, slightly. “Then
don’t move. You aren’t going anywhere for a while. You’re safe here with me.
Just breathe, girl.”

He released her shoulder, wincing
at the marks his fingers left on her flesh. She’d be bruised tomorrow. He laid
his hand along her neck, her pulse pounding against his palm, stroking her
tender flesh.

She let a whimper escape her lips,
then shook her head. “I’m sorry, Sir. It — it reminded me of something.”

“Something that
he
did?” He
was disgusted with himself. The last thing he wanted to do was to bring
something back from her past.

You fucking asshole.

She nodded, nuzzling her jaw
against his hand.

He leaned closer and kissed her
ear. “I’m not him, remember Ashley?
Never
.”

“I know, Sir. I’m sorry. I’m
trying.” He was pleased to feel her relax somewhat.

“I know you are, girl.” His buried
his nose in the silky weight of her hair. The smell was so good, he didn’t want
to stop.

“Does this mean we can skip my
spanking for now?”

He chuckled at the hopeful tone in
her voice. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Don’t worry though.” He felt her
body tense again. “It won’t take long.”

Parker wanted nothing more than to
take her over his knee and do what he’d wanted to do since the first day he’d
met her. But he needed to know something else.

Holding her by her hip, he pulled
the shorts the rest of the way down her smooth legs. He steadied her as she
stepped out of them.

Grabbing one of the throw pillows,
he laid it on the floor in front of her couch. “Kneel there.”

Big, hazel eyes looked up at him.
He stared back, one hand on her upper arm, ready to help her kneel. She stalled
a moment, then obeyed. The sway of her heavy breasts as she moved almost undid
him right there. She was so beautiful.

Once in place, her face downcast,
thighs tight together as if she could hide her charms, he sat on the couch in
front of her. He reclined back, his arms along the top of the couch,
demonstrating his ease. His control.

Parker wanted to tell her how
delectable she looked. The thick loveliness of her dark hair framing her
flushed face, her broad bottom posed on her delicate feet. The gentle swell of
her belly leading down to the strong mons between the lush thighs. He couldn’t
think of anything else, but being between those thighs, claiming, conquering.

His.

“Do you have something you want to
tell me?”

She looked up, her sparkling eyes
bright under expressive brows. “I — I don’t know.”

“Don’t you?” He sat forward, his
fingers laced between his thighs. “Tell me.”

Looking away, she shook her head.
He could see the flex of her shoulders, testing the cuffs. “I don’t want to
talk about it.”