Mr. Sir (Ball & Chain) (5 page)

Chapter Nine

At number thirteen on the next round, Grace’s head came up and she screamed, “God damn it, Owen. You keep hitting me in the same fucking spot and it hurts.”

His hand froze in midair, the leather-covered paddle shaking in his grip. He ground his teeth together to keep from laughing. Of course it fucking hurt.

“Well, well, well,” he said, laying the paddle carefully across the small of her back.

He knew damn well his aim was better than that. Although he had been in the same, sweet, fleshy area of her bottom just above the back of her thigh for a little while. His bare hand came down with a thunderous crack just above the spot in question.

Grace cried out and gave him a murderous look over her shoulder.

He cracked her again, slightly higher still. She dropped her forehead to the leather tabletop and screamed through clenched teeth. He smoothed his hand over her fiery-red flesh and swallowed a groan at the feel, the sight of it. Then slammed his open palm down again just above the last spot, but close enough she felt it.

Her entire body tensed and released. A long, guttural groan poured out of her throat as she crossed the threshold between fight and submission.

Owen climbed onto the table behind her with his knees between hers, pressed his cock into the seam of her ass and stretched out over her back. The heat radiating from her firm, round bottom through his pants onto his dick about sent him rocketing out of the stratosphere. The fine sheen of sweat covering her back mixed with the sweat on his chest. He shifted his hips and ground against her, took her earlobe between his teeth.

“Let’s try that again,” he told her. “What did you really mean to say?”

“Thank you, Sir,” she whispered.

“That’s more like it.” He sucked on her earlobe, making her ass wriggle against him deliciously, bit her neck, took his sweet time trailing nips and kisses along the sensitive curves of her back until she was quivering, begging for him to please fuck her, she needed it so bad.

“Not yet,” he said, picking up his paddle. “All right,” he told her cheerfully as he hopped off the table. “Since I lost count, let’s take this from the top, shall we?”

She moaned.

“From twenty,” he said, making sure the paddle landed as hard as he knew she could take it just above the spot that caused her to curse at him. Owen glanced stinging blows over the back of her thighs as she counted, her voice becoming more strained as the numbers grew smaller. He got no response at ten.

“What number was that?” he asked, his paddle positioned should she answer.

She didn’t answer.

He set the paddle aside and smoothed his hands over her fever-hot flesh.

“Are you still with me?” he asked gently.

She had her face turned almost completely into the padded tabletop and her breath was coming in short little pants. A single tear, inky from her mascara, rolled across the bridge of her nose.

“Please, Sir,” she whispered, the sound barely audible. She was so far under, her voice sounded otherworldly. “Please fuck me.”

Goddamn, he could come. A year or more out of practice and he could still push her this far. The power rush made him want to beat his chest with his fists and roar.

And to fuck her while she was in this state, when she may or may not know what was really happening, would have been nothing more than masturbation.

“What’s your safeword?” he asked, keeping his tone calm.

She let out a deep, unsteady breath. “Please.”

“Grace,” he barked, giving her the barest of slaps on the outside of her thigh.

“Yes,” she half hissed, half moaned. “More please, Sir.”

She was too far out of her head and he knew it. He very gently grazed his teeth over the tip of her spine and made her giggle in a deliciously distracted way. He touched his cheek lovingly to her red-hot bottom, reveling in the heat he’d caused, stroked her back and rallied himself to wait until she came back from wherever it was she’d gone.

When he felt her relax completely onto the table, he untied her hands and laid her arms at her sides to let her circulation come back on its own. He got the pillows out from under her hips and turned her onto her side, took her hair down and used the corner of the sheet to wipe her damp eyes, cleaning some of her ruined makeup off in the process.

He smiled at her when her eyes eventually drifted open.

“Hi,” he said, his heart swelling with the unbelievably huge love he had for her.

She smiled and blinked slowly. “I missed you, Sir,” she whispered, weakly lifting her hands one at a time so he could unlock her cuffs.

He paused long enough to kiss her softly. “I missed you too, baby doll.”

Her eyes closed again and she was still while he unlocked her ankle cuffs. He removed her collar and let it fall open, picked her up in his arms and carried her to the chair in the corner. He sat, draping her legs over one arm while resting her upper body on the other.

“The room is tits,” she told him, shifting her hips as she settled in his lap without sitting directly on her tender bottom.

“
You
are tits,” he said with a laugh, kissing her gently when she angled her face toward his.

He let one hand rest gently on her ass while the other cradled her head. Her arms came up around his neck and gripped him tight. He could tell she was going to come back with a vengeance when she returned from whatever realm she went to when she went deep. He braced himself.

A fireball burst through her entire body as her head dropped back into reality. She could feel his long, thick cock against her side. That combined with the dreamy way he was kissing her was the equivalent of pouring gasoline into a bonfire. She wasn’t going to be able to get him inside her fast enough.

He practically lifted her in the air himself when she started to shift so she was straddling him, her unsteady hands fumbling with the zipper of his unbuttoned jeans. He sucked in a sharp breath as she clutched his incredibly hard cock and angled herself over him while he attempted to wriggle his jeans down his hips.

The sound of the groan that rumbled up out of his chest tore through her as she touched his hot, swollen head to her cunt and sat down hard. The first jolt of her orgasm caused her back to arch and her hips to grind down on him. She braced her hands on his shoulders, raised herself up on wobbly legs, and lost her fucking mind.

She could hear herself calling out his name as she rode him wildly, crest after teeth-jarring crest crashing through her from where he filled her to impossibly full outward. His grunts and gasps, equally as desperate as hers, filled her ears, electrifying the tips of her fingers and burning through her nipples, her clit.

And when she didn’t think she could take any more, he gripped her hips and fucked wildly up into her, pushing her farther over the edge of bliss than she ever thought possible as he came with a gloriously primal growl.

She collapsed against his chest even as he continued to pulse and throb inside her. She pressed her lips to his sweaty neck, touched her tongue to his salty skin, breathed in the heady smell their bodies made together. Eventually he went completely slack beneath her, panting for breath, their bodies still connected.

“Fucking hell, Grace,” he said after a very long time. “I hate to say we should wait a year again, but maybe we should wait a year again.”

She smiled into the curve of his shoulder.

“I still can’t feel my toes,” he added, stroking her bottom lightly.

She winced. Then she thumped his shoulder with her fist and sat up.

“The whip was a dirty trick,” she scolded, and thumped him again.

He laughed, then dropped into his stern face. “The whip was long overdue.” He touched his fingers, still full of the unmistakable smell of her arousal, to her lip just under her nose.

Remarkably, her body sprang to life instantly.

“Tell me not to use it again and I won’t.” He slipped two fingers into her mouth.

She sucked and his eyes flashed dark.

“That’s what I thought,” he said, smirking as his cock, which hadn’t yet gone soft, jerked within her. “You want to take this upstairs like normal people?”

She angled her head back until his fingers almost slipped free, then sucked them back in and shook her head.

“Did I tell you the builder who custom-made that table asked for my specific leg measurements?” he asked conversationally, taking his fingers out of her mouth.

“You didn’t,” she answered, wrapping her arms around his neck as he shifted toward the edge of the chair.

“Well, I did. And do you know what that means?” he asked, getting his arms under her as he stood with her clinging to him.

“I really don’t.” She knew full well where he was going with that.

“That means,” he set her carefully on the edge of the table, “that your sweet pussy should be at exactly the right height for me when I’m standing here, comfortably.” He gasped as though he was surprised when she lay back without him slipping out of her. “Well, would you look at that.”

“Best anniversary present ever,” she said, wrapping her legs around his waist as she reached for him. She needed his mouth, his body pressed to hers. She needed to be touching as much of him as possible. “How are you going to top this next year?”

Mercy, he was rock hard again as he sank deeper.

“I’ll think of something,” he promised.

Chapter Ten

“You’ll be back at your desk on Monday,” Owen said, bringing Grace out of a doze.

She opened her eyes and looked up from where her head rested on his shoulder. He lifted his head from the edge of the deep, claw-foot bathtub and smiled.

“Turns out it was Tim, not Sanders, who went to Ziegelski.”

She frowned. “Tim?”

“He was in the bathroom the day Sanders was giving me a hard time about the lipstick.” His smile widened when she giggled. “We had no idea he was in the room.”

She gasped and her eyes went wide. “He overheard us talking the day he came in after Ziegelski reamed us,” she said. “He’s the reason I was moved from my desk.”

Owen nodded.

“Why would Tim go to the boss about something like that? It’s not like he’d be considered for partner even if he had something more than a little office indiscretion to use against you.”

He shrugged one gorgeous shoulder, stirring up the fragrant scent of the milk and honey bath when the water rippled.

“Apparently he thought if he could come up with some dirt on Sanders and I, he’d have a chance.” He rolled his eyes. “And Stacy isn’t sleeping with Sanders. She’s been telling everyone she is so he looks bad to Ziegelski.”

“Let me guess. She’s really having an affair with Tim.”

He simply smiled in response. He took the washcloth draped over the side of the tub, soaked it and squeezed the water over her chest where it was exposed over the surface of the opaque water.

“Tim knows what a puritan Ziegelski is,” he said. “He’s been playing into the boss’s high moral standards to try to get on his good side.”

“If he’d put as much effort into doing his job well as he did trying to mess things up for everyone else, he might actually be in the running.”

“Right?” He gently stroked the washcloth over her neck.

She practically purred at the feel of his touch. “Poor Stacy.”

He snorted. “Poor Stacy knew exactly what she was getting into.”

She shook her head. “I really don’t think she did. She’s a good worker, but she’s not that bright. He probably fed her enough bullshit she thought she’d attached her star to the right comet tail.”

He was quiet for so long she looked up at him again.

“Don’t worry about Stacy,” he told her, his tone serious. “She’s not the innocent little rube you might think she is.”

She sat straight up and looked at him over her shoulder. “What does that mean?”

He sighed, clearly realizing he should have kept his mouth shut.

“I think Stacy had her own reasons for wanting to get you away from your desk.”

“I’ll kill that little bitch,” she muttered.

His eyebrows shot up and he laughed. The warm, quiet sound immediately squashed the flash of anger that threatened to ruin the bliss of the moment.

She would have bet everything she held dear that her husband had given the little slut the same amused look he was wearing right then when she made her pass at him.

“What did she do?” she asked, settling back against his chest again.

“It doesn’t matter.” The washcloth disappeared under the water as he ran it down her chest between her breasts. She could feel his cock stir against her back.

“I want to know,” she told him, sighing as the cloth stroked her beneath the swell of her breasts, then brushed ever so lightly across one then the other of her nipples.

“She attempted to do the same thing you did for our anniversary.”

“Suck your cock?” She rolled her eyes. “How original.”

“For the record,” he added, “she landed ass up with her face in the carpet when I rolled my chair away from her as fast as I could. I warned her she got one free fuckup, but if she did it again I was going to tell my wife.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “And I made it very clear she did not want me to tell my wife.”

“Damn straight she doesn’t,” she muttered, shifting her hips between his legs as the cloth trailed down her stomach. The water rippled again as he laughed silently.

Grace draped one leg over the side of the tub when he abandoned the cloth and slipped his fingers between the folds of her sex.

He hummed near her ear. “Maybe I should tell you every time one of the girls at the office hits on me,” he murmured, stroking her clit gently. “Look what it does to you,” he observed, toying with her.

“I’m clearly still not thinking straight,” she responded, bringing her arms around his neck from behind to pull him down for a kiss.

She could feel his cock swelling further, pressing against the small of her back, and marveled at how easy he still was, even all these years later.

“Wait.” She pulled back. “Do girls at work hit on you often?”

Owen laughed, tucked his hands under into her armpits and lifted. She stood and turned to face him as he pulled the drain plug and stood as well.

“Owen? How often?” she repeated, her hands making a slapping sound as she clapped them on her hips.

He stepped out of the tub and held her hand to help her out as well.

And said nothing.

She snatched the towel away from him when he tried to dry her off and he laughed harder. When she turned her back to him, he wrapped his arms around her from behind. She couldn’t help herself—she pressed her sore bottom against his erection and shivered. Goose bumps rippled over her skin and her nipples peaked to aching when he sank his teeth into the curve between her shoulder and neck.

“I love you feisty,” he growled.

“No one really hits on you, do they?” she asked, turning to face him. “You just said that to get a rise out of me.”

He said nothing.

“Owen,” she warned.

He bent suddenly and hoisted her over his shoulder.

“Mmm, look at this beautiful red ass,” he said, running his hand over her bottom as he carried her out of the bathroom. “What do you say we go do it in bed like normal people for a little while.”

“If we must,” she sighed.

“So, what exactly did you say to Sanders to convince him to take the meeting for me the day of our anniversary?” he asked, carrying her down the hall. “He was pretty surprised to hear there were rumors about him and Stacy. You couldn’t have used that to threaten him or he would have known.”

“I like the view from up here,” she told him, watching the flex of his ass and the long, strong lines of his legs, his feet leaving wet footprints on the wood floor as he closed the distance between the bathroom and bedroom in long strides.

“It’s not so bad from where I am either,” he answered, kissing her hip.

“I didn’t exactly come right out and say I knew about him and Stacy,” she said, falling onto her back with a sigh when he laid her on the bed and stretched out over her. “That would be indiscreet, wouldn’t it?”

A delicious thrill vibrated through her at the smirk on his face.

“I just told him I knew about his little indiscretion in Vegas,” she added, stroking her hands over his back. His skin was just as soft as hers from the bath.

“Yes, well.” He arched an eyebrow at her. “He thought you were referring to the insane amount of money he lost at the blackjack tables while he was there, and he was pissed at me for telling you about it.”

She frowned. “You didn’t tell me he lost a lot of money on that trip.”

He nodded. “Exactly.” And then his expression was suddenly very serious. “Am I enough for you?” he asked.

She wrapped her legs around his and dug her fingers into his ass, trying to coax him inside her. “If there was any more of you I wouldn’t be able to take it.”

One corner of his mouth lifted then dropped again.

“That’s not what I mean,” he said, resisting. “Do you ever feel like you want to be more involved in the scene again? And not just with me all the time.”

She got what he was asking.

“Would I like to find a club and be part of the community again? Yes,” she answered, trailing her fingertips up his spine. “Do I need to play with another Dom?” She shrugged ambiguously. “Do I need to go back to being fucked by other Doms?” She shook her head slowly. “It never crosses my mind.”

He looked skeptical. “Never?”

She smacked him on the ass and was rewarded with the head of his cock pressing against her eager sex. She moaned and her hips came off the bed to take all of him in.

“Never,” she promised.

* * * * *

“I had a feeling about the two of you,” Laura said, handing Grace a cup of coffee.

Grace blushed. She sat at the table in Laura’s open, farmhouse kitchen, settling her tender bottom carefully onto the cushioned chair.

“It’s not exactly something you can bring up at soccer practice or the school play, is it?” she asked with a laugh.

“No, it’s really not.” Laura shook her head, bringing a sugar and creamer set to the table. “Still,” she continued, taking the chair across from Grace. “How long have we known each other? You’d think it might have come up before now.”

“It’s been so long since I talked about it with anyone but Owen.” Grace watched the kids playing in the Millers’ backyard.

Ian and Adam were playing on an elaborate wood-framed swing set. They were racing to see who could get from one end of the monkey bars to the other faster. Adam’s older sister Emma cheered them on from the end they were racing toward while Liam stood staring at his watch, looking every bit like his father as he timed them.

“For that matter, it’s been forever since Owen and I talked about it,” Grace added, turning to Laura. “Have you and Brad ever gone a long time without, you know?”

Relief over finding out she and Owen had friends in the scene didn’t immediately squelch the initial awkwardness she always felt talking about it.

“We didn’t play while I was pregnant and then for three months after each of the kids was born, but no longer than that.” She raised a hand before Grace could respond. “
But
we’ve always lived here, and my sister and I swap babysitting hours all the time. I heard you and Owen haven’t really found anyone since you moved here.”

“Not before last night.” Grace sighed wistfully and sipped her coffee. “Owen and I are both only children. His parents are great with the kids in small doses, and my parents live far away. It has to be nice to have family so close by.”

“As it is with any family, it has its pitfalls,” Laura said with a smirk. “But the babysitting thing seems to work for everyone. Brad and I get the time to do our thing, my sister gets a break from her three when it’s our turn to take them, and the kids are growing up with their cousins as some of their first friends.”

Grace noted the look that came over Laura’s face.

“You know,” she said, her smile turning impish, “I bet my sister would be willing to watch your kids occasionally if you wanted to expand the sitting pool.”

Grace blinked. “What do you mean?”

“I mean if we were childfree on the same nights, we could swap. Or play together.” She tipped her head toward the window facing the yard. “The four of us.”

As if on cue, Brad Miller appeared out of one of the barns beyond the fenced-in yard. Grace had to admit she’d admired him on more than several occasions. It was hard not to. He was stunning—dark hair and gray eyes, skin that turned a deep tan in the summer, arms a girl could hang from and thighs like tree trunks.

She looked back at Laura, whose smile widened in response.

“I’m going to be completely honest with you, Grace. Even before Brad came home and told me he’d talked to Owen, I used to catch myself thinking about what it would be like to be tied up and tortured by your husband every once in a while.”

A bubble of jealously swelled and then immediately burst into a wave of pride.

“I love my husband and his crazy-mad cat whip skills to no end,” Laura continued, “but variety is indeed the spice of life, darling.”

Grace could do nothing but smile as she looked back out the window, and at Brad as he strode toward the house, sweat around the collar and under the arms of his t-shirt. She could see the muscles of his thighs through his jeans as he took long strides toward the house. She caught sight of the size of his large, work-dirty hands and shivered at the thought of the impact they would make as they came down on her.

He seemed to be looking directly at her, as though he knew they were talking about him and understood exactly what they were talking about. And then her heart melted as he turned abruptly, summoned by his daughter, and joined the kids at their game.

Laura tucked a stray lock of blonde hair behind her ear. Her gaze dropped to Grace’s mouth for a lingering moment, then she lifted her dark-brown eyes and said, “I’d love it if we could play as a foursome some time.”

Grace squirmed in her seat as her head flooded with images of Owen standing shirtless and sweating over a bound Laura. She could see the muscles of his chest and arms straining as he wielded the cat whip he loved but she herself hated. She shivered a little when that thought immediately turned to her being at dark-and-dangerous Brad’s mercy. And she could very clearly imagine the dirty things Owen and Brad would surely make her and Laura do to each other while they watched.