MisplacedLessons (9 page)

“Ready for more?”

She grinned at his question. “That’s rhetorical, right?”

He lifted her legs until her knees were pressed high, near
her shoulders. “Hold your legs there. Just like that.”

She grabbed her knees as he enjoyed the view she provided.

Picking up the lube, he uncapped it and smeared some on his
finger. Then he pressed it against her anus. He froze for a moment and waited.
“You remember your safe word?”

She nodded.

“You want to say it?”

She shook it. “No. I don’t.”

“You’ve never been fucked here, right?”

Again, she shook her head.

“I’m going to.”

She swallowed visibly. “I want you to.”

He pushed his finger in, letting the lube ease his way. Once
she’d adjusted to one finger, he added more lube and another. Her breathing
accelerated. He kept a close eye on her face, waiting for some sign that she
was in pain, unhappy. The emotions never came. Instead she urged him on, asking
him to move faster, to go deeper.

Jesus. It took all the strength in his body not to pull his
fingers out and slam inside her. To set himself free, to release the bonds on
his hard-earned control. What would it feel like? To give himself over to her
completely without holding anything back?

He dismissed the thought. This wasn’t the time. She wasn’t
the woman. She couldn’t be. They had one week. Seven days in paradise before
the real world would return, intrude, drive them apart. He couldn’t let this go
any further than the here and now. Sex without emotion. Passion tempered by
restraint. He was a master of that. It was all he’d ever known.

So why did this feel like more?

“Andrew. Please.” Her fingers were digging into the backs of
her legs as she continued to hold herself open to his exploration.

He removed his fingers, not giving her a chance to complain
before he grabbed the butt plug from the mattress. He slathered it in lube,
then pushed it inside her ass slowly.

“Fuck,” she cried out. “Yes.”

The sight of her, flushed with arousal, wearing his clamps,
her ass full, was more than he could stand. The leash he held on his control
slipped, fell away.

“Hold your breath.” He only gave her a split second to do so
as he released one nipple clamp and then the other.

Amy yelled out, and he recognized the second the pain gave
way to pleasure. Her hips lifted from the bed as she sought satisfaction. “God,
Andrew. Need you. Now.”

He wrapped his lips around one nipple, sucking it deeply as
he massaged the other with his hand. Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling it
so hard his scalp burned. He’d never been the recipient of discomfort, always
keeping his lovers tied up so they couldn’t touch him.

Is that what was so different about her? She touched him.
And not just physically. He tightened the suction, determined to drive the
wayward thought from his mind. This was just sex.

He pushed himself away, caging her beneath him on the
mattress.

Her gaze captured his and he saw it—Amy felt the same
things. His spunky Aussie was waging the same internal battle.

“We only have a week.” Her voice was so quiet that, despite
their closeness, he could almost pretend she hadn’t spoken at all.

“It will have to be enough.” He didn’t know what else to
say. He had nothing to offer her. He didn’t do relationships. His job didn’t
afford him that luxury.

She gave him a small smile. “We’ll make it enough.” With her
words, she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him down until his cock
touched her opening. The plug still filled her ass, making his entrance harder,
tighter.

“Condom.” He’d almost forgotten. He’d never forgotten.

“Birth control. Please don’t stop.”

“Amy.” It was too much.

It wasn’t enough.

He pushed inside, trying to block out the exquisite agony.
She was tight. He was bare. Had he ever felt anything more incredible? Fuck.
One shove and he was going to blow like Old Faithful.

“I’m afraid this won’t take long.”

She laughed. “Good. I hate to come alone.”

It was all he needed to hear. He stroked her clit as he
thrust inside her. Amy gripped his shoulders, urging him on with her cries.

He hadn’t exaggerated. His balls began to tighten after only
a minute or so. He was a goner. Luckily Amy was true to her word as well. Her
inner muscles clenched, squeezing his dick tightly. He suddenly understood the
meaning of
hurt so good
.

He came with a loud groan, his come filling her tight
passage.

“So. Bloody. Good,” she said as he lifted himself away and
fell to her side.

He grinned at her accent, her labored breathing. He was
struggling to push air into his own lungs. His skin was slick with sweat and
his heart was racing so hard he thought it might burst. He couldn’t deny the
truth of her words, so he gave it back to her. In her own language. “That was
bloody awesome.”

She laughed at his exaggerated attempt at sounding
Australian. “Submissive enough?”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re kidding, right?”

She shrugged, her face betraying she knew just how bad a
submissive she was. “You know, I suck at Algebra too, but I had a great teacher
who didn’t give up on me. She gave me extra problems to do and we drilled and
drilled until it became easier.”

“You seriously want to learn to be a submissive?” For some
reason the idea didn’t rest well with him.

“I don’t know. Maybe you’re right. Maybe I don’t have what
it takes. I just like the idea of you and me practicing some more. You know,
drilling.”

Andrew laughed. God. She was a piece of work. “I could be on
board for a few more lessons, misplaced though they may be. After all, drilling
is one of my strong suits.”

He pulled her close and kissed her. He’d never cuddled with
a woman after sex, but holding Amy felt natural. Right.

Shit.

Chapter Five

Amy lay on the couch and stretched lazily. She was fairly
certain she’d never had a better day than today. Hell, she’d never had a bloody
week
as phenomenal as this one. Andrew had been the ultimate tour guide,
enduring not just one, but two days of nonstop sightseeing with her. After
their first marathon day, she’d expected him to beg off on going back into the
city again.

Then he’d surprised her by waking her up early yesterday
morning for round two of the tours. They’d spent a wonderful morning at Navy
Pier, then devoted the afternoon to marking three more things off her to-do
list.

Only one thing remained—Velvet Chains.

Andrew seemed determined to keep their sexual explorations
private, refusing to take her to the sex club, though he wouldn’t tell her why.

Today, she’d granted him a reprieve. They’d opted for a long
sleep-in—intermingled with sex, sex and more sex. Then they had a late
breakfast and spent the morning hanging out around the house.

She glanced at the TV and grinned as Andrew’s image stood
with Hurricane Ridge in the background, talking about the area, the mountain
ranges in the distance and why it was on his list of best daytrips. She’d never
seen his entire show before—she’d only caught clips on the internet—so she’d
convinced him to throw in a DVD of season one just to give her a taste of what
he did for a living.

To say she was hooked was an understatement. One show turned
into a marathon afternoon as she remained glued to the couch, watching episode
after episode. He’d sat next to her, adding interesting tidbits about things
that happened behind the scenes as they’d filmed the various shows, and she’d
decided Andrew Shaw was the most fascinating man she’d ever met.

She also realized as the days passed that saying goodbye to
him the day after tomorrow was going to suck. Big-time.

Andrew walked downstairs and came back into the room with
his cell pressed to his ear. Apparently he wasn’t having any luck reaching
whoever he was trying to call because he sighed heavily and hung up.

His hair was wet from the shower he’d just taken. She
wolf-whistled, impressed by the image of him in his trousers and collared
shirt. It was a far cry from the faded jeans and t-shirts he’d been wearing on
their excursions into the city.

“Well, hello, hot stuff.”

He grimaced. “I hate dressing up for the dog and pony show.”
Andrew had informed her earlier he had a business meeting with some advertisers
tonight that he couldn’t miss. She assured him she’d be fine on her own for an
evening.

“You look terrific. Besides, a free dinner is a free
dinner.”

Andrew chuckled. “Never thought of it that way. I suppose
you’re right. Even so, I plan to eat and run, so I won’t be back too late.”

“Who were you trying to call?”

Andrew scowled. “Harper. She still won’t answer the phone.”

Amy grinned, well aware that her expression annoyed Andrew.
He dropped down on the couch next to her and started tapping out a text. Amy
leaned forward, reading as he wrote.

I know you’re not at a conference, Harper. I just don’t
know where you are. If you don’t answer my text within five minutes I’m
contacting the FBI and telling them you’ve been abducted.

Amy rolled her eyes. “Jesus. Really? Why can’t you leave the
poor girl alone? She’s having fun.”

Andrew purposely ignored her as Amy tried to do some mental
time zone math. It was five o’clock in Chicago, so Andrew was texting his
sister at eight a.m.

Three minutes, Harper.

She thought maybe she should break the news to Andrew before
he had a conniption over Harper’s silent treatment. “Um, Andrew, you do realize
your sister could still be asleep right now. It’s early morning over there.”

“Don’t care. I know her. She sleeps with her phone right by
the bed. I’m not stopping until I get her attention.” Again he tapped out a
text.
Two minutes, Harper.

“If you ever tried to wake my arse up with those insane
texts, I’d—”

Andrew texted again.
One minute, sis.

“That wasn’t a minute.” The moment she stopped speaking,
Andrew’s phone dinged.

Harper’s response appeared.
That was not a minute,
Andrew.

Amy laughed. “Told you so.”

Andrew dismissed her taunt, his expression brightening at
Harper’s reply. It occurred to Amy he really did miss his sister. She
experienced a twinge of guilt for keeping him in the dark.

Ha! You are there after all. Now tell me where there is.

Amy wondered if Harper would give in.

Nope. You don’t need to know. Safe. And happy. That
should be all that counts.

“Goddamn it,” Andrew muttered. “This is ridiculous. I don’t
know what the hell you two think I’m going to do.”

“That’s sort of the point, isn’t it? Harper truly thinks
you’d hop on a plane to Australia.”

“I just want to talk to her.” He texted once more.
If I
call you, you’re not going to answer, are you?

No.

Andrew’s shoulders fell. Amy felt bad. She wasn’t one
hundred percent sure what the dynamics were between Harper and Andrew. She knew
they both adored each other, but sometimes Amy felt as if there was something
else lingering beneath the surface. Neither of them had said as much, but it
was there just the same.

I’m not happy about this, Harper. At least tell me where
you are.

Silence met his request.

“She really is fine, Andrew.”

He looked at her, then back at his silent phone. The
persistent man tried again.
Are you going to tell me?

I’m fine. Stop worrying. Be nice to Amy.

Amy smiled. “Yeah. Be nice to me.”

He tossed the phone to the side. “Nice, huh?” He rose from
the couch and went back into the hallway briefly. When he returned, he had
something in his hands.

“What’s that?”

“Your homework assignment. Tonight we’re going to cover some
new material.” He handed her the lube and butt plug.

She narrowed her eyes. “This isn’t exactly new.”

“What happens after I pull the plug out will be.”

Though he’d used the toy on her numerous times over the past
couple of days, Andrew still hadn’t fucked her arse. It sounded like that was
going to change tonight.

She grinned. Lots of things were going to change. She didn’t
intend to stay in the house, but she wasn’t about to ruin the surprise she had
planned. “What do you want me to do?”

“Wait two hours and then put it in. I want your pretty ass
nice and stretched out by the time I get home.”

“Dirty bastard,” she teased, taking the items from him. She
stood and kissed him on the cheek. “I’ll do my homework as long as you agree to
play nice with the advertisers. You need them.”

“Yes ma’am.” He took her little peck on the cheek and
returned it with interest, dragging his lips along her neck and teasing her
earlobe with his teeth. His hands gripped her breasts and Amy could tell he was
in danger of missing his dinner meeting. He was going to have to tackle
rush-hour traffic.

Reluctantly, she pushed him away. “You better go now.”

He sighed. “Fuck. Okay. I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

She laughed and pushed him toward the door. “I’ll be ready
for you with a surprise of my own.”

He tilted his head suspiciously, but didn’t bother to
question her. Instead, he gave her another quick peck and left.

Amy didn’t even wait until his car was out of the driveway
before she sprinted upstairs.

Nearly an hour later she was back downstairs, dressed in a
tight, far-too-revealing shirt she’d bought in Chicago and the leather skirt
she’d packed from home. She had no idea what the standard attire was for a sex
club, but she felt sexy and daring, so she was just going with it. She propped
up the note she’d written for Andrew on a table in the front foyer, grabbed her
small purse to stow the butt plug and lube in, then glanced out the window in
time to see the cab pull up in front of the house.

Time to mark another item off the list. She wasn’t sure if
Andrew would be happy or angry when he arrived home to find her gone. The note
was an invitation for him to join her. If he wouldn’t take her to the club,
she’d simply have to take herself and hope he’d follow. She didn’t intend to
play with anyone other than Andrew, so if he didn’t come, she’d take a look
around, then return home with her curiosity satisfied.

When she emerged from the taxi forty-five minutes
later—idiot man got them lost twice—she stood on the sidewalk for a minute
studying the inconspicuous building with a small, tastefully done sign that
declared she had indeed made it to Velvet Chains. No wonder the cabbie had
struggled to find it. It certainly didn’t stand out in any way.

Taking a deep breath, she bolstered her courage and walked
in the front door.

A man with a clipboard greeted her inside. “Name please.”

Amy hadn’t anticipated this. “Um, I’m Amy Wesson.”

The man consulted his list. She needed to act fast, so she
added, “I’m a guest of Andrew Shaw.”

The man glanced up, taking in her attire. “Mr. Shaw isn’t
here this evening.”

“I know. I’m meeting him here,” she lied. Hopefully Andrew
would take her up on her invitation to continue their sex play at the club.
After all, they’d already initiated his bed, the shower, several floors in
different rooms, the kitchen table and the couch at his house. The change of
scenery would be fun.

“I’m sorry, but he doesn’t appear to have called ahead to
give us your name. I’ll have to phone him to confirm.”

She didn’t want to interrupt—and potentially ruin—Andrew’s
business dinner. “Um. He really is expecting me.”

The man nodded. “I understand. It won’t take me a moment to
confirm this.”

She was about to tell him to forget it when there was a loud
disturbance at the front entrance. The doorman’s face flushed with anger and a
fair amount of annoyance.

“Master Turner. I told you earlier. You can’t come in here
intoxicated.”

The newcomer was dressed head to toe in leather, with
slicked-back jet-black hair and an earring. Amy had to work hard at restraining
her laughter. The guy appeared to have bought into every stereotype in terms of
what a big, bad Dom should look like. He and the doorman began arguing, so Amy
stepped into the shadows. When another man, the bouncer, arrived, she took the
opportunity to move into the club. With any luck, the doorman would assume she
left during the altercation and forget all about calling Andrew.

In the hallway she spotted a bathroom. She quickly stepped
inside, grateful for a private place to calm her nerves. She walked to the sink
and took in her flushed cheeks. She always blushed something fierce when she
got anxious. Time to calm down. Best to lay low in here for a little while
before venturing out. Just in case the doorman came looking for her.

Glancing at her purse, she grinned. Andrew had given her an
order. Maybe she’d get submissive brownie points for following it. Stepping
into a stall, she pulled the lube and plug out of her purse. It took her
several minutes to prepare herself and the toy, to get it into place and manage
to stand upright with the bloody big thing in her arse. Walking naturally was
going to be a challenge.

She giggled to herself.

You’re not in Oz anymore, Amy.

Returning to the sink, she washed her hands then checked her
appearance in the mirror. The color in her face had faded back to normal. She
touched up her eyeliner and lipstick then took one more steadying breath as she
tried to bolster her courage.

She peeked out into the hallway. There was no sign of the
doorman or the bouncer, so she walked toward the sound of music. Her eyes
widened when she entered what appeared to be the heart of the club. It
resembled a nightclub, with tables and chairs scattered throughout the room,
facing a stage that was set against one long wall. That was where the
similarities ended.

The room was fairly dim, with most of the light provided by
the stage lights that focused on a performance unlike anything Amy had ever
seen. A naked man was chained to cross. He was facing away from the audience,
so every person in the room had a clear view of his bare back and arse. A
woman, dressed in a leather corset and skintight pants, wielded a whip. Every
few seconds or so, she struck the bound man.

Amy would have been horrified if it weren’t so apparent that
the man loved the rough treatment, and if she hadn’t recently been introduced
to the concept of how pleasure and pain can indeed make strange but compelling
bed partners.

She’d never anticipated how much she would like the feel of
Andrew’s hand as he spanked her or the tight pinch of the nipple clamps. Her
American lover had wetted her whistle and she wanted to see how much more she
could take and still enjoy. Hazel had always claimed Amy was her own worst
enemy—possessing more curiosity than sense.

Amy didn’t care. She figured life was meant to be lived and
enjoyed. She refused to cower from new experiences. And this night ranked right
up there as the mother of all experiences. Bloody hell.

Amy scanned the room, looking for an empty table. She didn’t
expect Andrew to arrive for another hour or so at least. She’d simply find a
quiet area near the back, enjoy the show and start a new to-do list. As she
watched the lovers at the surrounding tables, she spotted at least three or
four new things she wouldn’t mind trying with Andrew.

She’d just found an empty booth when a man stepped in front
of her, blocking her path.

“Excuse me,” she said, intending to sidestep the large man.

“Are you here alone?”

Alarm bells went off in Amy’s head as she glanced up into
the man’s imposing face. He wasn’t smiling and his eyes were cold. She’d seen
jackaroos on the station who’d turned hard with the work. Men who slowly lost
every bit of their humanity until they were as compassionate as a pissed-off
cut snake. This man fit that mold.