Disgrace (15 page)

“I get that you don’t like the way I refer to my job but that doesn’t negate the fact that I am a”—I flash a glare that makes her freeze—“that I am a Dominatrix.” She breathes out when I return to my foot rubbing.

“I understand that. I have given it some thought actually, and I would like you to consider something.” I look over to her and she is peeping over the rim of her cup all wide-eyed and curious.

“I’m all ears”—she wiggles her toes in my hand—“and toes.” I suck her big toes into my mouth, and her jaw drops. Her fingers grip her cup like a vice and her whole leg trembles. I release her toe with a loud plop.

“Oh, my god, that went straight to my clit! Do it again.” She pushes her toes to my mouth, and I laugh.

“We can’t keep using sex to avoid this conversations, Sam.” I hold her foot inches from my face, her big toe wriggling as she tries to get closer.

“I think you’ll find we can.” Her breathy tease falls flat. I scowl, and she relaxes with a resigned huff. “Fine.”

“You have your job, and I respect that, but I would prefer if you didn’t fuck guys. Your male clients who require only pain as their sexual preference, that’s fine, but I don’t want you fucking them. Women you can fuck and do the pain thing. I’m cool with that.” I state as a matter of fact.

“Wow, you have given this some thought.” She purses her lips and blows the steam from her drink. I wonder if she is aware that almost everything she does looks sexual to me…gets me hard. I catch her glint and raised brow. Oh, yes, she’s aware. My loose pants do nothing to hide my growing hard-on.

“Is that a yes?” I push.

“Why women?” She takes a sip, and her lips shine with moisture.

“Honestly, I can get off on that idea. Other guys fucking you when I’m not present? Not so much.” I shrug lightly.

“But if you were there?” She’s playing with me. Her sensual, breathy voice is low and alluring, but this game still needs some rules.

“If I was there, it would be
my
decision and under my direction,” I clarify.

She sniffs out a laugh. “Sadly, that is one fantasy I’m never likely to have.”

“Why? That’s a fantasy of yours?” I shift and drop my hand down my pants to make a quick adjustment. “I don’t mean why is that a fantasy, but why would that never happen?” I massage the intense pressure that has quickly accumulated at the turn of this conversation. I am now uncomfortably hard.

“I know the fantasy itself shouldn’t be a shocker; it’s most women’s fantasy if they are honest. But as a Dominatrix, it would mean giving over too much power. I would fear losing control. No matter how well trained my clients may be. I don’t have that level of trust to give myself over to two men.” She wipes a mock tear. “Alas, poor me…but women you say?” She waggles her perfect brows mischievously. “Interesting that you are okay with me fucking a woman. I get that you would get off on it; don’t get me wrong…” She pauses at my sudden shift in position.

I let her foot go and stalk up the bed crowding her, my arms on either side of her body, pinning her in place.

“I don’t want some other man giving you pleasure.” I growl.

“I think your concern is misplaced then, because if anyone knows how to really give a woman an orgasm, it’s another woman,” she quips confidently.

“You did not just say you get better orgasms from a woman that you do from me,” I warn with a low, disapproving grumble.

“Oh, no, not me
personally
. I love cock too much for that, but you know, as a guide.” She snickers wide-eyed and shrinking away from me with every taunting word. I take the drink from her hand and crush the grin from her lips, only coming up for air when she is a soft, pliant mess in my hands.

“What about you?” She exhales a sexy, satisfied breath as I roll to her side.

“What about me?” My head rests in my hand, while my other snaked around her waist, always touching.

“If I agree, I am effectively becoming a nun, and you? What are you abstaining from?” she challenges.

“I promise not to fuck men, either.” I reply dead-pan.

“Oh, my god, you’re a comedian, too! Mad skills in the sack
and
a comedian. I’ve hit the jackpot!” I grab her roughly and pull her onto me.

“And don’t you forget it,” I growl against her lips, which smile against mine. “I’m never going to be vanilla, Sam, but I won’t fuck anyone else unless you agree. Unless we are together, both fucking that someone else.” I hold her gaze to see how she reacts to my stark but honest declaration. I think I hold my breath.

“You say the sweetest things…my very own Prince Charming.” She sighs and fans herself. I snatch her arse in both my fists and squeeze her. She rubs her sweet little self against me. Her eyes are on fire with lust and desire. I needn’t have worried. I roll her onto her back.

“There’s only one way to find out, baby. Let me get my glass butt plug and see if it fits.”

“I think you’ll find one size fits all, Jason.” She chokes out a dirty laugh.

I may not be Prince Charming but I’m pretty fucking sure she’s the fucking
one
.

I
really need to pee but this feels so unbelievably good, I don’t want to move. Jason slid his glorious thick cock into me in the early hours, sweet, sleepy sex that felt more like a dream. I floated on the very edge of consciousness where ecstasy became my reality. The light filtering through the gaps in the blinds is unseasonably bright for this time of the year. It can only mean it’s either very late in the morning or early afternoon. I think it’s early afternoon because I really, really need to pee. I am acutely aware we must have fallen straight back to sleep, maybe not during but certainly immediately after. He is no longer inside me, but I can feel his cock twitch nestled as it is, between my cheeks. And his large body feels welded to mine, hot, firm and immovable. His arm is a dead weight across my body as I try to prise myself free, wriggling over to the far side of the bed. I manage to roll myself so his meaty hand is the only body part left resting on my hip.

With speed that belies his sleepy state, his hand glides fully around my body, and he picks me up with one arm and pulls me back into his hold.

“I need to pee,” I whisper, which is stupid. He’s obviously awake.

“Ten more minutes,” he grumbles and nestles his nose into my hair, inhaling deeply.

“Ten more minutes and I will pee all over you, and I charge extra for that.” I snort out a harmless laugh, but Jason is on me in an instant with a fierce scowl etched on his handsome features.

“It was joke, Jason. I don’t actually do wet play…not my particular kink.” I try and give him a tentative smile to lighten the dark cloud that hangs heavy between us.

“Not mine either but that is beside the point.” His stiff tone is clipped, his jaw is clenched and his eyes darken with barely contained anger. “Sam, I think it’s safe to assume certain references to your work are going to piss me off.” I stiffen beneath him, and he releases his hostility and frustration in one slow breath. “Look, I know what you do, and honestly, I don’t care. I want you period, no caveats, no if onlys…I want you as you are. But I am also not going to pretend that, when you refer to yourself in a derogatory manner, or reference the work you do in a way that I can’t help but picture someone else touching what I consider mine…that is going to piss…me…off.” His kisses soften the blow of his statement, although I shouldn’t be surprised. Jason may not be a typical submissive-owning Dominant but he is
all
alpha male—controlling, demanding and possessive, I just wasn’t anticipating adding sensitive to that list.

“Sorry,” I hold his gaze and witness the rage dissipate just as quickly as it came. His lips spread wide into his megawatt smile before he rolls off and releases me. I swiftly slide to the edge of the bed before he changes his mind. “It wasn’t even my joke,” I mumble as I slip his t-shirt over my head. It hangs very loose and falls to my knees. I look over and watch him watching me. He is resting now with his back against the headboard and one arm stretched up and round the back of his head. The sheet has pooled at his waist, and his muscles are taut and flexed from the pull on his arm. He has a light dusting of hair on his sculpted chest, which thickens as is progresses down his body. Not too much but enough to scrape my fingers through and just the right amount to make him look a little wild…untamed. His eyes are stormy with desire and a deep rumble vibrates in his chest but is barely audible. I back away with my hands up in surrender.

“Okay, okay, take it out on Leon when he gets back. It’s his joke.” I back away, because he is lightning fast if he decides he wants me back in his arms, and I’m about to burst.

I return to the bedroom, but the bed is empty and there is the smell of melted butter coming from the kitchen. Jason has his naked back to me, his fitted boxer shorts hugging the perfect round muscle of his arse.
I know what I want for breakfast
. I slide onto the kitchen stool, and he turns when he hears the squeak of the leather announcing my arrival. He is vigorously mixing something making the muscles in his biceps jump and flex enticingly. Yup, that’s breakfast sorted. I slide back off the stool and stalk around the island. He eyes me warily, his own devilish grin warming his features. I swipe a tea towel hanging on a cupboard handle and fold, deliberately slowly into a neat, thick square. I drop it to the floor and watch his eyes light with desire. He raises a knowing brow, and his mixing slows down but still continues, stopping when I sink to my knees. I hear him switch the heat off the stove, but instead of holding my head, cupping gently or gripping with intent, he simply resumes his mixing, slow and steady.

I rake my nails up the thick, defined muscle of his thighs and slip my fingers up the legs of his boxer briefs. I grab the waistband from the inside and pull them down his legs. His solid erection springs free; it barely bobs at all, despite its considerable weight. It is rock-hard and straining to reach his own belly button. I cup his heavy sac and squeeze. He grunts out a deep moan, and I waste no time wrapping my fist and lips around his shaft. My tongue swirls and wipes the pre-cum that is already wetting the tip. I hum my appreciation and notice the muscles in his thighs flex. I can still hear the whisk lap the sides of the bowl, but the rhythm is more erratic. I smile briefly to myself before I pull and suck him to the back of my throat. My fingers tighten at the base, synchronising the pump and gentle twist of my grip with my mouth. I use my other hand to tug and massage his balls, which tighten in my palm. He whispers out a stuttered curse when I try to take as much of his length as possible. A challenge, he is fucking built, thick and long. My lips feel the angry, pulsing vein, and I take a moment to guide my tongue along its length, teasing light flicks that make him catch his breath.

I swirl my tongue, dipping the tip into the slit. He groans and gently rocks his hips. I graze lightly with my bottom teeth, but even that is a little too much judging by the hiss he sucks through his teeth. I pull my lips to offer more protection to his sensitive tip and suck him deep into the back of my throat. He holds still, letting me set the pace, but I can see the tension in his thighs and hear the rumble of pleasure vibrating from deep in his chest. He hits the back of my throat, and I relax and swallow him down, then swallow some more and press firmly with my middle finger directly on the pressure point between his arsehole and his balls.

“Jesus fucking Christ!!” He slams his hand on the counter. The bowl misses me altogether, and the whisk hits my shoulder before hitting the floor. But the cool, thick liquid contents fall with a slick splat down my back, his cock emptying his own essence down my throat. I lap and lick him clean as he pulls from my lips, but I remain kneeling because I am dipping with egg, and moving is going to make this mess so much worse. He takes a moment to compose himself, and looking up, I can see his head is bent, and his eyes are scrunched shut. He mutters something I can’t quite make out, but I think it’s maybe something like praising the Lord. He seems to focus and take me in with wide eyes and a huge smile.

“Fuck, Sam, that was…shit…” He runs a hand through his short hair, the slightly longer top forming adorable spikes. He grabs the other kitchen towels and scoops the mess from my back, although gravity had done an admirable job, and most of the sticky mess is on the floor behind me. Nevertheless, now relatively clean, Jason helps me to my feet and lifts me to sit on the counter. “You’ve left me a little speechless.” His lips quirk. He looks a little shy, and that has left
me
a little speechless.