Reason (3 page)

“I’m sorry, Sir,” she apologized. She knew better than to offer excuses or suggest he had made it impossible for her to avoid orgasm. He had done it on purpose, for her, and now she had to figure out what
he
needed.

“You have no self-control, sub,” he observed.

Ivone kept her expression totally neutral and waited.

“I will teach you some,” Jamison said quietly. “Can you keep your hands above your head and your legs apart or must I restrain you? And be sure, Ivone, because if you make the wrong choice, I will add to your punishment.”

Ivone now knew what he wanted, needed. “Whatever pleases you, Sir.”

Jamison didn’t smile, but she knew she had pleased him. He turned on the overhead light and then quickly tied her wrists and ankles with the velvet ropes attached to the bed and shoved a pillow under her hips. She nearly hissed at the friction on her sore ass, but caught the sound. She didn’t yet know if he wanted her to be vocal or not. He began at her throat, stroking and touching every inch of her skin, over her collar bones, down her arms and up under her armpits. He ran his tongue over some spots, making her shiver, and then nipped those areas, awakening her arousal. He paid special attention to her breasts, weighing each in his hands, pinching and rolling the nipples, pulling them to elongate them, until the nip of pain was evident. He then grabbed the clamps from beside the bed and took his time applying them, watching her carefully until he was likely satisfied she was right at the end of her endurance. Ivone had to pant through the experience and had the satisfaction of seeing his eyes darken again to that jewel-like color. By the time he had worked his way down to her thighs, Ivone was beginning to writhe. Jamison immediately stopped and popped the clamps off. Ivone shrieked and fought the miniclimax that moved up on her.

“You will lie still until I have completed my exam,” he said, his voice rough, deep.

Ivone wanted to tell him no when he clamped her sore nipples again. Somehow she bore through it and was rewarded with a tiny salve from his tongue on both of the aching tips. God, she loved the pain and already he knew it. He knew how much she could take. He returned his attention to her thighs and wandered his way down to the arch of her feet. Who knew the sides of her knees were so sensitive? And if he didn’t quit with her feet, Ivone was going to scream. When he moved to her other foot, she slipped away in her head a little and managed to cope as he found the other knee.
Boy howdy.
He stroked her thighs and rolled them further apart. It didn’t seem to be enough for him, so he released her ankles and knelt between her splayed thighs, lifting her calves and arranging her ankles over his shoulders, her knees bent back nearly to her chest.

“Keep them there, sub. If you move them, you won’t like what happens.”

From her position at the head of the bed, her head propped on the pillows, Ivone watched as Jamison shifted her to rest her buttocks on his knees, her legs now nearly perpendicular to her body. He stared down at her apex and then parted her folds. He had something in his big hand, and Ivone felt it push into her. The walls of her vagina began to stretch apart, and she understood he was using a speculum. Medical play was something that she hadn’t done before, and she felt a bit queasy. When Jamison turned on a little flashlight however, and Ivone felt how his cock suddenly jumped to total attention beneath her buttocks, she understood how primal, how essential, this intimate perusal of her was to him. There was nothing withheld from his gaze, with the exception of her anus, and she somehow figured he would be looking there at some point. Almost absentmindedly, Jamison tapped her clit, now poking from its protective hood. Not again. Ivone fought really, really hard against coming and Jamison obligingly removed his finger, giving her abdomen a little pat. The speculum spread wider and Jamison lifted her higher to his gaze. She could feel his breath up inside her and then his tongue.
Oh Christ.
His tongue withdrew, followed by the speculum, and he licked his lips, clearly approving of her taste. He then carefully examined every fold and crevice, saving her clit until last. By then Ivone was so turned on that any hint of embarrassment she might have felt at the intimate search had long since disappeared, especially when she could see how much he approved of her.

Jamison flipped her over and began the same inspection of the back of her body. Ivone managed not to rub her clit on the sheet. She moaned when he massaged her back muscles and shivered into his touch as he stroked her legs. When he spread her ass cheeks, Ivone didn’t move a muscle, not even when he pushed a plug inside her, seating it with a final twist and a hard spank on the end. She hoped he would soon remove the clamps though, because with her position on the bed they were past painful. As though he read her mind, Jamison flipped her over again and, without further ado, popped them off. Ivone gasped as the blood flow returned and writhed against his tongue and lips. He suckled her until she begged him to stop, then nipped one then the other. Ivone again fought coming. He was so good at this. He read her like a book. He propped her buttocks on a pillow and bent her legs to set her feet wide apart on the bed.

“Hold this position.” No threat of consequences this time.

He made himself comfortable between her thighs, making her stretch even wider to accommodate his bulk and then began to fuck her with a curved dildo, the butt plug moving in concert with his moves. The dildo stimulated her G-spot, and Ivone recognized the far-off trembles of a vaginal orgasm. Jamison recognized her cues and stopped. Ivone groaned in frustration. He left the dildo inside and turned to her exposed clit. Taking a little vibe, he began to torment it. Ivone’s thighs clenched and her toes curled into the mattress.
Please. Please.

“No.”

Ivone hadn’t realized she’d begged out loud. She fought against coming but was nearly there when Jamison pulled the vibe away, starting in on her again with the dildo. Ivone thrashed her head on the pillow. She panted and whimpered, she moaned and begged, and still Jamison denied her. She was sweat soaked, her hair clinging to her head, the sheets damp and wrinkled around her. Her clit felt enormous and so very tender, especially when the vibe returned to tease and torment. Slap! Jamison’s hand came down on her spread folds with authority, right on her clit.

“Come.”

* * * *

Ivone went over with a vengeance, screaming her pleasure, squeezing him tightly between her legs. He was amazed at her strength. Orgasmic flush rose up from her breasts and over her throat. Her face went tense then slack with her passion and those amazing eyes glazed over. Jamison’s heart palpitated. She was absolutely, fucking sensational. Shit, she was absolutely getting under his skin. He tore his gaze from her, quickly pulling on a condom to then thrust into her open pussy, reveling in the vestiges of her massive orgasm. He worked her hard and pushed her into another one with the angle of his cock against her G-spot and the grind of his pelvis, and let himself go when she did. Jamison wanted to roar with satiation and ownership but contented himself with a groan.

They slept for a while, Jamison having pulled out of her to drop heavily onto his belly. He wanted to pull her to him and indulge in some postcoital cuddling, but some part of him cautioned against letting her in. She rested a slender foot on his calf and it touched him in spite of himself. The inspection, the fast-paced contact was new even for him. It had felt like he had a deadline, needing to know this woman inside and out, from head to toe. Jamison was beginning to wonder if Ivone just might meet some previously unknown criteria when sleep overtook him.

* * * *

Ivone had not slept, although she pretended to. She needed a few minutes to think without being overwhelmed by Jamison’s attentions. There was a cold, hard part in the man. She felt it in his obvious determination, obvious at least to her, not to connect on a softer, emotional level. Veronica’s warning echoed in her head. Well, she had just come to the realization that she needed the emotional piece to balance what she knew were dark needs, as dark as her own, if this was to be a D/s relationship and not one or two evenings of play. It might be too much work, too hard, to break down his walls in order to be completely fulfilled, let alone demolish her own. She was already thinking, with the optimism of a woman in love, that she could reach him, that he was salvageable, and it scared the shit out of her. It was too soon for love, even the dark, twisted kind. It was insane to be thinking of anything more with this man but she couldn’t deny that he had linked with her somehow. And she had never, ever, done something like this, never felt so claimed and so satisfied. She would have to watch her heart, depending upon the next stage of this connection. Ivone wasn’t a fool. She hoped.

“I want you to come back to my home for the weekend,” Jamison stated, having come from asleep to a state of watchfulness in the blink of an eye. It had startled her. He had pulled her into the shower with him and efficiently washed all the evidence of their passion away before tending to himself. He had used some topical anesthetic on her nipples and anus as well. Someone had taught him the importance of caring for subs, but it was more important to Ivone that he didn’t try to avoid the intimacy.

She tried to read his tone and studied him through the veil of her lashes. Hell, yes, she wanted to go home with him. She wanted more of him, more pain, more pleasure. But Veronica’s warning reverberated in her head.

“Should I have a safe word, Sir?” She tried that on for size.

Jamison’s eyebrows climbed to his hairline, and he was silent for so long that she knew he was as shocked as she.

He said gruffly, “Of course. It was an oversight. I apologize.”

“Sir, do I need one?”

Jamison stared at her as though she was out of her mind. And she probably was. He could cripple her, and she might have no actual recourse.

“Explain,” he barked.

“Sir, I don’t know if I can. I don’t trust easily, but I do trust you. I trust you to know what I need and when I can’t take anymore.”

“You will choose a safe word. I have never made such a mistake before. And you may need it later, for I intend to punish you for your assumption. We don’t have a contractual D/s relationship, sub, not yet, maybe never. I enter only short-term connections. So choose,” he snapped at her.

Ivone sighed inwardly. Well, that answered the sixty-four-dollar question. He was going to try to keep her at arm’s length. She had pushed him, though, and probably too soon. She wondered at her own need to do so.

“Reason.”

Jamison said, “Repeat that.”

“Reason.” As in, the voice of.. Not that she was listening to that particular voice at this particular moment.

* * * *

Jamison had nearly been overwhelmed by Ivone’s statement. Had anyone, other than his employees and his very, very, small, select circle of friends, ever trusted him? And he wasn’t totally sure about all his employees, although they seemed loyal. He certainly paid them enough and ensured that they had good benefits. No, he couldn’t let her presume, trespass, in this manner. She was going to work her way past his defenses with that attitude if he allowed it. Fuck, she already had! No safe word! What if he had taken her to the dungeon and those there found out? He could lose his membership here and at Pleasure, and they would think he had lost his mind over this woman. And he may well have done so. He tried to regroup, all the while hiding his thoughts from Ivone behind a practiced poker face. Jamison instinctively knew that Ivone had chosen her safe word quite deliberately, and he decided not to examine the whys too carefully right then. He hoped he wasn’t getting into something here that wasn’t of his choosing. She seemed really bright under that incredibly sexy exterior, and he looked forward to peeling back the layers, although what he might find may not suit him. An old quote from a high school English class popped into his head, something about protesting too much. Jamison shook the thought out of his head and looked to Ivone to attend him. He strode out of the bedroom without checking to see if she was following, although his gut twisted to think that she might not. Maybe he should take back his invitation before it was too late. Shit, he was damned unsettled, and waffling. He hated indecisiveness in a person, most of all in himself. Change is good, you ass, he tried to reassure himself.

Ivone again walked behind him, but this time to the coatroom where she retrieved her coat and shoes. He could scent her, a light, fresh smell that belonged only to her, separate from the toiletries supplied by the club. He saw her flash a reassuring smile toward Veronica and looked at her speculatively but chose to say nothing. Ivone was nothing like Veronica. Ivone had taken everything he had provided tonight, and he knew she wanted more. He sensed no worrisome hidden agenda, but admitted to himself that he had never looked for one before because his boundaries were so clear. Jamison Landry did women one or two nights and then moved on. He might connect with the same one at a different time, but never for more than a night or two. He liked the Club scene because it tended to keep things very clear. Except for tonight. What
was
it about this woman?

“Where is your car?” he asked abruptly, trying to pull his thoughts into line.

“I took a cab.”

“Do you work?”