A Firm Hand: 2 (Bound to You) (10 page)

“Oh fuck, Brian.”

Her vocal enthusiasm seemed to spur him on. He bent over her back and gripped the hair at her nape. She keened when he wrenched her head back and bit her on the shoulder. Relentlessly he pounded into her, letting her feel the animal he kept caged inside him. She loved it, every primal second. There was no coldness in the man who fucked her now, only heat.

The sounds of their flesh slapping together filled the room, along with the musky smell of sex. She collapsed and let go, submitting every part of herself to him. The room around her vanished as the beginnings of an orgasm snuck up on her fast and furious. The desire to come while he went at her at this violent pace was more than she could handle.

“Please, Brian, please!”

“Use your hand. I want to watch you make yourself come.”

She quickly wedged a hand beneath her pelvis, seeking out her clit. Painfully, furiously she rubbed. In a matter of seconds, pleasure crashed through her. She cried out, clutching the bedcovers. His groan barely registered as he was taken by his own climax. He fucked her through it. His cock pulsed and her pussy rhythmically clenched around him. Gradually, he slowed, drawing out the last few thrusts before he collapsed on top of her, his body eclipsing hers. They fought for breath as the intensity of their union died down. He kissed her softly on the cheek then pushed himself off her, stood and stretched.

She hated herself for missing his warmth and dreading the coldness she was sure would return. At least she was prepared for it now. She clung to the dreamy euphoria that permeated every cell of her body and tried not to think of what the next moments would be like. The bed dipped under his weight as he sat next to her. She peeked out from beneath the strands of hair that had fallen over her face and was suddenly very afraid of the affection she felt for him. Falling for this man would only mean pain for her, and not the kind she enjoyed.

“How are you feeling?” he asked.

“Like I have no bones.”

With light fingers, he inspected her injured ass. “You’ll have some bruising this time, I’m afraid.”

“I don’t mind. I like bruises.”

“Good. I like giving them to you.”

She eyed him cautiously, waiting for him to dismiss her.

“Hungry?” he asked.

“A little.”

He stood. “Then let’s get you something to eat.”

She sat up, swallowing her surprise. “Okay. I’d like to use your bathroom first if that’s okay.”

“Be my guest.” Brian admired the lovely wheals that marked her skin as she walked away. She’d taken the crop well
, and
without having to be restrained. He’d called her a pain slut, but that wasn’t actually the case. The pain had not exactly been pleasurable for her. She’d screamed and cried, squirming and tensing as he delivered the harsh blows. Her suffering had been genuine, but the agony seemed to arouse her, awaken her. Her submission was a beautiful thing to witness.

She returned and bent down to retrieve her clothing.

“Leave them,” he ordered. He should have had her get dressed and sent her on her way, but he wasn’t ready to give up her company just yet. She was his submissive after all. He could spend time with her if he wanted to.

“Yes Sir,” she said as she stood.

“To the kitchen with you.” He nudged her out the door. As they crept down the stairs, he hung back a few steps, letting her walk ahead of him.

“Are you staring at my ass?” she asked over her shoulder.

“I’m admiring my artwork.”

She snorted, stopping in the hallway at the bottom of the steps. “Which way?”

“Through the dining room and to the right.” He’d forgotten that she had yet to see the rest of the house. She hadn’t asked for a tour. He was so used to people fawning over the grandeur of his house it felt strange when someone didn’t. Her initial wide-eyed wonder must have been honest surprise and not a lust for wealth. One of the reasons he wasn’t exactly forthcoming about his family was that he was never quite sure if people sought his company for advantage or because they cared to know him. Not that it really mattered. He was perfectly happy with his solitary existence, seeking companionship as he needed it.

He would not admit how much that felt like a lie as he looked at Genevieve standing in the dim light of his kitchen. With her nakedness and crazy red hair, she shined like a beacon amid the black granite and stainless steel. Vulnerable and anxious, she shifted from foot to foot as if she were unsure of what to do with herself. Somehow he had to get them over this awkward tension that plagued them after they played and fucked.

Casual affairs had always been his thing. He was accustomed to parting ways with a submissive as soon as a scene was over. He hadn’t had to think beyond that since Danielle. Genevieve deserved better than a thank-you-see-you-next-week. He just wasn’t sure he was capable of giving her much else.

He came up behind her and massaged her shoulders. She tensed at his touch. Annoyed, he dropped his hands, stepped around her and opened the fridge. Far be it for him to put himself out to make her feel more comfortable. If she wanted to hold on to her nervousness, then so be it. He pulled out a container of Japanese noodles, dipping sauce and two bottles of water. Placing them on the counter, he went in search of chopsticks.

“Help yourself. You have my permission this time,” he said, smirking as he gestured at the fridge.

Ah, there was that fuck-you look. Where did it come from, all this petulance? Before they’d begun their affair, he’d attributed most of it to a rebellious personality. Now he wasn’t so sure. Her sarcasm seemed to be more of a defense mechanism, a way to keep people at a distance. Maybe he recognized it in her because in that respect, they were the same. Their methods may have been different, but their objectives were not. What was she protecting herself from?

“What are you having?” she asked, jolting him from his thoughts.

“Soba noodles.” He sat on one of the barstools at the island, opened the carton and dug in.

“Cold?”

“Yes, cold. Is that a problem?”

She stared into the open fridge. “Nope. You wouldn’t happen to have any pizza in here, would you?”

“Nope.”

She sighed. “I need real food.”

“This is real food, Genevieve. Sit. You can have some of mine.”

She closed the fridge. “Cold noodles can’t be good.”

“Says the foodie who’s hungry for pizza. Sit down,” he said, pointing at the stool next to him. “You’ll like it.”

She flinched when her skin came into contact with the cold metal. “Seat is kinda chilly. Feels good though.”

He bet it did. She’d have a reminder every time she sat down for the next few days. Hopefully it was enough to teach the little brat some respect.

He offered her a bite of his noodles. She looked skeptical, but leaned in and took it.

“Mmm. It’s actually pretty good,” she said, her words muffled.

He gave her an I-told-you-so look.

“Okay. I can admit it. You were right.” She gave him a playful smile as she leaned forward. “More please?”

He made her work for a few mouthfuls, holding the food just out of reach. She smiled and laughed as she chased the chopsticks, mouth open like a little bird waiting to be fed.

She scowled. “Do you have to tease me?”

“I enjoy teasing you, so get used to it.” He shoved a huge clump of noodles between her lips, getting some on her chin and dropping a few strands on her chest. “Oh that’s attractive. You’re making a mess.”

She smirked as she struggled to chew.

He grabbed a napkin and gently wiped her face. When he cleaned the noodles from her chest, he accidentally brushed one of her nipples, causing her to shiver. He loved the way the peak hardened around the steel ring. The piercings were like little toys begging to be played with. The napkin drifted from his hand, forgotten. He fingered one of the loops, twisting and tugging it.

“Tell me about your art.”

She swallowed, finishing her bite. “I can’t think while you’re doing that.”

“Good. You’re not supposed to think, just talk.”

“Umm…” She squirmed. “I sketch sometimes, but digital art is what I like most.”

“What kind of digital art? Portraits, landscapes, soup cans…what?” He grasped the other peak, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger.

Her eyes glazed over. She arched her back, rounding her shoulders, presenting her breasts to him. “Oh god,” she murmured.

“You draw God?” Twist. Tug
.

“What?” she asked, bewildered. “No, mostly moments…
oh
…my expression of them. Oh Brian, please.”

The little noises she made resonated in his cock, coaxing it to life. “Moments?”

Moaning, she spread her thighs and inched her pelvis toward him.

He pinched her nipples hard enough to get a resounding yelp out of her. “Stop thinking about your needy cunt for a few minutes and focus on the conversation.”

Mouth gaping, she glared at him. Her struggle with his command played across her face, but she stayed silent. Closing her lips, she relaxed her posture, playing the demure submissive. He wasn’t fooled, not for a second. She may not have spoken, but her acerbity burned brightly in her eyes.

“You’re learning already. I know how hard it must have been to bite your tongue just now. Next, I think we’ll work on those dirty looks you’re so quick to give.”

She dropped her gaze, nervously worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. He knew better than to assume she could extinguish it that quickly. Her anger was still there, dancing beneath the surface, but she was attempting to control it for him. She wanted to obey even though part of her was naturally resistant to it and that pleased him.

“You said you draw moments. Explain,” he said as he continued to play with her nipples.

A look of concentration graced her delicate features. “Well,” she paused with a gasp, “it’s really whatever I’m feeling at the time. I try to pour that out into what I’m creating. Fuck, that feels good.”

“Fuck? Not exactly.” He stood, pushing his chair back. He pulled her to her feet, causing her to stumble into him. Before she had a chance to gain her balance, he pushed her to her knees. He made a sound low in his throat when she glanced up at him with an impish grin. Naughty girl.

“Open,” he ordered.

She obeyed. He cupped the back of her head and guided his shaft into her mouth.

He hoped she enjoyed giving oral sex. If not, she would learn because he planned to have his cock in every available hole and frequently. He paused, allowing her to grow comfortable with the size and feel of him. Immediately, she began teasing the slit, flicking her tongue back and forth and swirling over the head. He groaned when she finally devoured his length, sucking him into the recesses of her hot little mouth. She worked him in and out, settling into a rhythm. The girl knew what she was doing.

“Touch yourself,” Brian ordered. “But don’t you dare come.”

As if she’d been waiting for just that, her hand dove between her legs. She moaned around him, her attention to his cock growing more enthusiastic as her fingers manipulated her pussy. She was really getting into it now, no doubt encouraged by her own pleasure.

No sense in allowing her to think she had too much control. He drove his cock into her throat, gagging her purposely. Startled, her hands flew to his thighs, pushing against him.