Reason (2 page)

“Ivone Mendes-Rodrigues, Master Landry,” Veronica advised him and then slipped away.

Ivone stood there for what seemed an eternity. But she had learned patience early on in her childhood, and it had served her well right into her thirtieth year. Fascinated, she unobtrusively watched Landry’s body shift like a big cat’s as he reached out a large hand, the fingers long and spatulate, the nails big and square. He hooked them into the front of her chemise and pulled her to stand between his thighs, right up against his package. Ivone felt the heat and hardness clear to the centre of her being and tried not to tremble, then gave it up as a bad job. Both of his hands slid up her arms to toy with the thin straps, sliding them down to her elbows, the silky fabric shimmering over her breasts to drag on her erect, pebbled nipples. He paused and brushed a thumb against each of them, the roughness of his callused skin making her shudder. He pushed the garment down over her hips and let it pool around her feet, then leaned back to scrutinize her. At his gesture she spread her thighs further apart and his violet eyes darkened to amethyst as he looked at the naked folds of her labia. The rest of the room and the people in it simply ceased to exist for Ivone. The sound of them was like the faint buzzing of insects. Jamison Landry was her only focus, and she obediently turned when he motioned for her to do so, stopping when he grasped her hips to hold her in place, then stroked a callused hand over the curve of her ass. A pressure on the small of her back signaled for her to bend over, and she did so, grasping her ankles. She felt a finger press between her buttocks and find her anus.

“Do you let a cock in here?” a low, mesmerizing voice asked.

“Yes, Sir,” she managed.

The finger moved to her vaginal opening, pausing at the wetness then pushing up inside of her, high and hard.
Shit, one of his fingers felt like three of every other man who had fingered her. Would his cock be larger, too
? What she thought was his thumb swirled in her moisture and pressed a little ways into her anus, and Ivone gasped at the double penetration.

“Do you let two men here?” he now demanded, his voice even deeper with arousal.

“Twice, Sir,” Ivone whimpered, as the thumb pressed harder at her answer.

“We’ll see,” was his response, and the digits were abruptly removed.

Ivone held the position until he lightly slapped her ass and pulled on a thigh to turn her.

“Kneel,” he ordered.

Ivone dropped to her knees instantly.

“Do you fuck women?”

“No, Sir.”

“We’ll see. Now suck me. Do it as you would usually and I will correct you if I have any complaint. Keep your hands on your thighs.”

Ivone opened her mouth as he pulled his cock from the front of his leathers. It was enormous, the head as big and dark as a plum and the shaft thick and heavily veined. He was already wet for her, and she rejoiced at the fact that she aroused him. This was not appropriate behavior in such a public part of the club, but Ivone knew not to tease this man. She accepted him into her mouth and then sucked him in as deep as she could manage, wishing she could use her hands. As if he had read her mind, he circled his thumb and forefinger where her lips joined his cock, and she realized that he didn’t want to choke her. She hoped his thoughtfulness extended to knowing how much pain she needed, too.

Ivone worked at the blow job, totally focused and intent. She lost herself as she did so, enjoying his taste and texture, enjoying the sensation she got from fellating this man. She loved the dichotomy of being on her knees with a big cock shoved in her mouth yet feeling so powerful. Jamison was, for the most part, silent during her ministrations, and let her set the pace. She then felt his hands fist in her hair and he thrust deep against her throat. She barely had time to relax and swallow against him when he ejaculated. She somehow drank him down, but it was an effort, and there was a sensation of drowning. He pulled out of her mouth and tilted her head up. His eyes bored into hers and it was like nothing Ivone had ever felt before. She couldn’t have looked away if the fire alarm had gone off. Oh, God, this man might so be for her.

* * * *

Jamison fought against the pull of this Ivone Mendes-Rodrigues. Her astonishing eyes mesmerized him, not to mention that she had just given him the best blow job he had ever experienced, and that was saying something. She hadn’t sucked harder than other women, or taken him any deeper. She hadn’t used her tongue to greater effect. It was her single-mindedness, her absolute sense of purpose that created the connection. She had loved blowing him, and it connected them. Somehow he knew this. But he had lost his mind to engage in such an overt sexual act in the public area of the club and he had to gain some control over the situation before it blew up in his face.

Ivone had one green eye and one blue. It was disconcerting and yet a perfect look on her. This tall, curvy woman with the long, silky, dark hair looked at him with her mismatched eyes, and he was somehow lost. It was a totally unfamiliar feeling for him, and he then felt a twinge of anxiety. Jamison dug deep for every bit of control he possessed and shuttered his eyes and his heart. He would explore this Ivone Mendes-Rodrigues and see where he could take her, and she him, but he wouldn’t be vulnerable. He had learned his lessons well over the years, and he was sure she would have a flaw that he couldn’t overlook and accept. All it would take was a period of time for that flaw to make itself apparent to him and remind him of his own imperfections. Besides, it was crazy to think that, after one sexual encounter, he would even want to pursue anything other than an evening or two with her, just as he did with every other sub. There seemed to be a never-ending supply of women who were either exploring the lifestyle or fully committed to it, and Jamison always found a sub when he required one. Because that was all he allowed himself. He fell back into his self-preservation mode, forgetting how purposeless his life seemed lately, how empty.

“Do you want to go to the dungeon, or a private room?” Jamison asked her.

He heard himself give her a choice and was surprised that he had done so. She, too, was surprised that he had even asked, for he noted a bemused expression flit across her face. He hoped she wouldn’t choose the dungeon. He wasn’t ready to share any more experiences with this sub with other club members. They had already seen enough, and he hated to share his pleasure with them. He wondered at his possessiveness for this was so unlike him. The venue kept the sex casual and held commitment at bay.

“Private room, Sir.”

Jamison fought his displeasure. He might have given her a choice, but she should have given him the power back. Instead, her answer went against the grain. She was supposedly a trained sub if she was available here tonight. He didn’t want a newbie. He wanted a woman who was past the coddling, introductory stage, someone he could fine-tune, and only for the night. There was no patience in him and probably never had been. Then it crossed his mind that Ivone might have been as thrown off by her response to him as he had been to her, and actually wanted to be alone with him to the extent that she had forgotten her role. He briefly wondered at his soul searching. Well, he would give it to her this time. Once. If she forgot again, he would punish her. Not discard her, but punish her. He should really take her to the dungeon and have others bear witness to their new connection and establish that this was purely play, but he found himself wanting to be alone with her. He snapped his hand toward Veronica who placed a key card in his hand.

“Room seventeen, Sir,” she said.

Jamison’s eyes shot to hers at the little
tone
in her voice. She didn’t flinch, merely looked at him back at him, her face blank. He had apparently gotten carried away with Veronica when she was participating in scenes. At least
she
thought he had. He knew that he had given Veronica what she needed, and also knew she had confirmed it with other members. It was when he had moved on to another sub that her opinion changed. She had then left Pleasure and found employment here. Veronica finally dropped her eyes and moved away. Jamison made a mental note to find out how Ivone and Veronica were connected. He didn’t care to have Veronica poisoning the well. He reached down and took Ivone’s wrist, pulling her up as he stood. She came up like a feather. A strange feeling swept over him. He shook it off. There was no need to feel possessive. Ivone and he were just dabbling as was his wont.

“Use the bathroom,” he ordered.

* * * *

Boy, he was a man of few words, Ivone thought. She liked that he got right to the chase. She was sick of the constant prattle at work, saying one thing and meaning another, or nothing at all. She was sick of the girls vying with one another and sick of the office politics. Design was cutthroat, even if it was architectural design and not the catwalk kind. The younger team members saw her as ancient, she knew, and she fostered the idea in order to do the job she loved rather than be included in the collegial bullshit. She followed the prescribed distance behind Jamison, totally comfortable in her nakedness, her eyes devouring his broad, muscled back and great ass. She had a sudden urge to pat it, maybe smack it and quashed a giggle. He would kill her for her temerity. Kill her with pain and then with pleasure. When he had the room open and stood aside for her to enter, her face was schooled in submission again, although he gave her a sharp look. Ivone hoped the night would be wonderful.

She’d seen Jamison’s walls go up earlier. She wasn’t offended. Ivone knew about trust, or the lack thereof. She knew a fellow survivor when she met one. But this time, they might complement one another. Jamison Landry had compensated by becoming dominant. She compensated by giving over. This would mean that they both would have to come to trust the other, and maybe that would never happen, but he called so strongly to that something within her that she was going to give this the old college try. She instinctively knew that this man was playing at being a Dom. Oh, he was dominant, but not about to commit, and she had a fleeting thought about her own inability to do so. Perhaps he, too, had a similar past. Perhaps their future beckoned them.

Jamison stripped when he entered the room. Ivone was a little disappointed that he didn’t have her undress him. She would have liked to unveil his body a bit at a time, fold his clothing neatly, and show her willingness to serve. He was magnificent and also clearly at home in his own skin. He was all delineated muscle interspersed with dark hair. Ivone again wished she could have pulled his clothing off slowly to better enjoy it, but would follow his direction. He arranged some toys on the bedside table and some lube, but it was the paddle in his hand that caught her attention.

“Face down over the bench, sub, legs apart.”

Ivone instantly complied, her pussy wet and her breasts growing heavy with desire. Jamison began to paddle her. He laid the heavy strokes across her buttocks and the top of her thighs with no preliminaries. After a time she felt some of the stress of the week begin to drain away as the endorphins poured forth, and she slipped into subspace. When he stopped she fought to stay, only to be brought back when he filled her with a dildo. It had been well lubed, but Jamison had thrust it inside of her with no quarter. He truly knew what she liked, was able to read her body language like no other in such a short period of time. The paddle came down again, much harder, and Ivone writhed against sensation.

“Stay still,” came the order, and Ivone fought to obey as the paddle descended, and the dildo stretched her.

Two greased fingers breached her anus and it burned, making Ivone whimper and flinch, to no avail. More lube was added, and the huge digits scissored and twisted. Her ass stinging, her anus burning, Ivone realized she had not been given a safe word.
Stupid, stupid, stupid
. The fingers slid out, and Ivone felt Jamison’s cock push against her tightness. His weight lowered over her, and he shoved deep, in one thrust. Lights flashed behind Ivone’s eyelids, and she couldn’t get a full breath. It felt like he was pressing up against her lungs, and for a moment she panicked, but then he began to work in earnest, awakening all the nerve endings inside of her. She was packed full, so full that she thought she might burst, and began to feel her climax build from the stretching alone. The burn was just a bonus against the scratchy sense of such pleasure. She opened her mouth to ask permission to come when Jamison spoke in her ear.

“You are not allowed to come,” he said with dark finality.

Ivone fought orgasm like she had never fought it before. His hand slid around to pet her clit, and she cried out in protest, but he touched a little harder, then pinched it just as he pulled out and shoved back in hard, the sensation of heat evident even through the latex he wore, as he groaned his release. Ivone shattered.

“You were not allowed to come,” Jamison said with a growl from just above her.

Ivone opened her eyes and was aware of him watching her. This had to be a test. No one could have held off coming considering what he had done. She knew that he would punish her for it, and despite her recent climax, wanted more. So he had recognized her need for correction and had given her a reason to receive it. He pulled out without further comment and went off to cleanse himself, then returned with a cloth to gently and carefully clean her up, at such cross purposes with what she believed he intended next. Again, such dichotomy thrilled her. He lifted her relaxed form and laid her on the bed where she thought she might doze for a moment. She was stretched and sore, although it felt delicious.