ROAR (41 page)

The building of trust wouldn’t happen overnight, but he no longer felt the pressure of fighting against time with her. She’d agreed to take their dynamic to a deeper level, as well as to start dating or being together to see how their relationship might develop. Assuming he could sort out where he wanted his life to go.

He flipped the page and realized his mind wasn’t registering anything in the magazine. He set it aside. Bored as he was watching her count, he couldn’t relieve her from the onerous task. Knowing she’d be honest in completing the challenge, he didn’t have to scrutinize her so closely. He walked into the bedroom and retrieved his legal pad and a pen.

Rick had given him a couple of homework assignments, although he hadn’t given them much thought this week. The counselor asked him to make a list showing how he intended to bring structure to his days when he added Pamela to his life. Neither man had expected her to become such a key part so soon, no doubt. How would Pamela affect the way he interacted with Tori and took care of his own needs? Perhaps if he started by listing what each person in this triangle of life needed…

Tori’s physical demands were handled by the facility, which took excellent care of her. He visited her, loved her, but if he wasn’t there every evening, she’d never miss him. Those times had been more a way to meet his needs, not Tori’s. Of course, he’d continue to visit his wife regularly. He’d never abandon her.

Before Pamela entered his life, that had been enough, but if he intended to form a committed relationship with her, she’d require more of him than Tori currently did. The list included companionship, affection, guidance, training, and…what else? It had been so long since he’d been in a two-way relationship.

One thing was certain, though—he couldn’t go back and forth full-time between them, or he’d become emotionally and physically drained.

“Twelve hundred forty-three. Twelve hundred forty-four…” Pamela continued to count. He regretted pouring so much in the bowl now, poor thing.

Realizing he hadn’t tried to distract her in a while, he reached for the remote and changed the channel on the television, but Pamela didn’t miss a beat. She continued to count one tiny grain at a time. Wondering if she’d truly reached the zone, he turned off the set and fired up the stereo with one of her favorite Coltrane numbers, but the only numbers she seemed focused on were the ones related to the rice she was counting.

“Twelve hundred ninety-three. Twelve hundred ninety-four. Twelve hundred…”

Amazing concentration. She must have counted two-thirds of the rice already. He had confidence she’d make it this time.

Back to
his
counting. He’d need to take care of his needs as well. What were his limitations so he could achieve balance between his time with Pamela, with Tori, and alone?
Keep up with the financial world
. That was work, though. It was a given he’d spend a large portion of his weekdays, at least, on the job.

Take time to run and work out
. That really was his only leisure activity now. Was there something else he wanted to do?

Spend time with Pamela.
He smiled. That would be his greatest need of all. She filled his soul. Their time together should also help meet her needs. What he’d missed more than anything these past few years was not having someone who depended on him, looked forward to seeing him, and appreciated the little things he did to show her how special she was to him.

Glancing across the table, he saw she was nearing the end of her task. How did he plan to reward her diligence? He wouldn’t send her to bed focusing on the negative aspects of the night, because there were a number of times she’d done well. Encouragement would go a long way toward her trying harder to please him and obey the next time. And this was, after all, their first major scene.

The two bowls hid her breasts from his sight, but he wondered if a little nipple torture might excite her. He had found a pair of massage cups for nipples he was anxious to try. They didn’t use fire, but some kind of suction mechanism. Then again, he needed to consider how much
he
could stand, too.

How far could he lower his walls? He’d save nipple play for another time.

Her alabaster skin was freckled in a few places on her shoulders, captivating his attention. He’d kissed the back of her shoulder earlier after massaging the knots out.

Was he ready to share his bed with her, holding her close to him all night long without succumbing to wanting to make love to her? Hardly.

What did that leave? Numerous floggers and paddles. Based on her list of likes, any of them would do the trick and would also be safe for him.

He stood, knowing Pamela would be fine while he prepared the next part of their scene. When he returned to the dining room, she was past fourteen hundred. Almost finished.

*     *     *

Pamela had no idea how much time passed, having tuned out everything but the counting of the rice. Roar must have tired of testing her ability to concentrate. Nothing existed but these goddamned rice pellets in the two bowls, her water glass, and counting and transferring each grain.

“Fourteen hundred twenty-four. Fourteen hundred twenty-five. Fourteen hundred twenty-six…” Her fingers felt around the bottom of the bowl, but she could feel no more rice. “I’m finished! I did it, Sir! There are fourteen hundred twenty-six!”

How anyone could be so excited about a bowl of uncooked rice confounded her, but she felt a ridiculous sense of accomplishment.

“Very good, Sprite.” He seemed far from enthusiastic, but she didn’t care. She’d done it. That’s all that mattered.

“What sounds did you hear during the last…ninety-five minutes in your third attempt that met with success?”

She’d been counting rice that long? No wonder her shoulders were stiff again.

“Sounds? I didn’t hear anything except for my counting, Sir.”

“Not the refrigerator door opening or the music from the stereo or any of the other sounds I made?”

She beamed. “Not a single thing! I concentrated for more than ninety minutes without being distracted?”

“That you did, Sprite.” The pleasure in his voice made her smile. “I’m proud of you for sticking to it. That wasn’t an easy task, and despite a couple of false starts, you succeeded.”

One would think she’d just completed a brain transplant, but she couldn’t be happier. She’d pleased Roar. That’s all that mattered.

No, she also hadn’t achieved something that had eluded her for so long. She’d kept her focus on the task without letting her mind wander or become distracted.

“Let’s return to the bedroom.”

Yes!

She grinned from ear to ear. She stood before realizing she had no idea where the bedroom was with the blindfold. His chuckle made her grin. He guided her with his hand, and soon she was seated on the mattress before realizing she hadn’t let her mind play twenty guesses about what he planned for her. She awaited his instructions, eager to please him with how quickly she could respond.

“Stretch out on this side of the bed.”

She did as he said, waiting.

“You’re beautiful.”

Pamela smiled, happy that he liked what he saw.

“Tell me what you fantasized about earlier this evening while waiting for our play scene to begin.” It must be past midnight. Well, of course. She still couldn’t believe how much time had passed while she’d been counting rice.

Her cheeks flamed hot at the thought of sharing her erotic musings, but she did as he commanded. “I’m lying on a sandy beach in a string bikini.” Well, this was her fantasy, after all. Might as well look hot and sexy in it. “My sunglasses block the sunlight, and I’m unaware of any sounds or people around me. All alone, I slip my hand inside my bikini bottom’s triangle and stroke my clit.”

“Touch your clit and continue with your fantasy.”

Once again, she wet her finger in her vaginal juices and lubricated her clit.

“Then what happens?”

An image of Kristoffer in his suit and tie emerged before her mind’s eye, and she smiled as she suddenly found herself in Gunnar’s boardroom dressed in her sweater and slacks.

“What was that thought?”

“At that point, there was some kind of spatial anomaly out of
Star Trek
, and I’ve been transported into Gunnar’s boardroom. I see you sitting there in your starched shirt, silk tie, and pewter-gray suit staring at me from across the table. You seem to be undressing me with your eyes. Not that you need to use much imagination, because—”

“Focus, Sprite, without unnecessary commentary.”

Oh, Sir, why the hurry? The devilishly sexy Dom was hiding in the details.

“Yes, Sir. Well, the temperature in the room suddenly shoots up for some unknown reason, and you loosen your tie, never taking your eyes off me. I’m finding it getting uncomfortably warm, too, and pull my sweater over my head.”

She heard his sharp intake of breath and smiled. Would he think back on tonight when alone and masturbate to thoughts of her? She hoped so.

“What are you wearing underneath?”

She mentally glanced down. “The string bikini top?”
How bizarre
.

He chuckled at her confusion about the mixed-up worlds of her imagination. “Go on.”

She shrugged. “Maybe it’s a bra. Anyway, instead of simply loosening your tie and letting it hang around your neck, you take it off, followed by your suit coat, and place them neatly over the back of one of the leather chairs.” She licked her lips and stroked her clit faster. “Next you unbutton the dress shirt, and…” She could easily picture his chest after seeing him swimming yesterday.

“Continue,” he prompted her.

Did his voice sound huskier? Was he becoming turned on, too?

“You’ve obviously been working out in the gym or the pool or something. Your pecs are…lickable.”

“What do you do about that?”

Do? She hadn’t gotten that far earlier but, at his prompting, decided to advance the scene in her head. “I stand and walk seductively around the table toward you.”

“What else are you wearing?” he asked.

Men are so visual. “Black slacks.”

“Oh.” He sounded disappointed.

Time to spice it up a bit. “I unbutton them. Your eyes are riveted on my slow movements as I slide them over my hips and down my legs until I step out of them. Somehow, I manage to keep my stiletto-heeled mules on.” He’d seen her in those shoes and would better be able to envision them as the sexy scene played out in his head, too.

“You remove your belt, and I’m wondering what it would feel like to have you use it on my butt.” Would that be considered topping? How could it, though? He’d asked her to describe her fantasy.

When he didn’t say anything, she went on. “But you only lay it on the table and begin unbuttoning your slacks. I kneel down in front of you and brush your hands aside so I can do it for you.”

She licked her lips. “I lower your zipper, feeling your erection against the back of my fingers. You’re hard.”
For me
.

Roar cleared his throat, so she continued. “You stop me before I can release your cock. You command me to stand, bend at the waist over the table, and lean on my elbows.” Talk about hot!

Her clit became more swollen as she stroked, wondering where she should take this fantasy. She slowed down her strokes, not wanting it to end, but she’d already reached the point of no return. If she didn’t finish this soon, her orgasm would fizzle out. On fire, she rubbed in small circles wondering what Kristoffer intended to do with her in this position.

Before she could come, Roar spoke. “Sit up.”
No!
But she kept her feelings to herself and, with his help, did as instructed. He swung her legs over the side of the bed. “There’s a pillow on the floor to your right. Kneel on it facing the bed, and stretch your arms out toward the middle of the bed.”

She tried to follow his instructions, growing wetter by the second, but the mattress cut her off at the ribs just below her breasts, making it impossible to stretch out.

He chuckled. “I forgot my sprite is a pixie. Here, let me put another pillow under your knees.” He lifted her with one hand while positioning a firmer pillow for her. She maneuvered into position, waiting for further instructions. The muffled rattle of chains told her he was searching for something in his toy bag.

“What happens next, Sprite?” he prompted.

“You paddle, whip, or flog me.”

“Choose.”

He was going to let her choose? “Flogging, Sir.”

The swishing of a flogger instantaneously told her he had been holding the implement already. She smiled and tried to be as prepared as he seemed to be.

Her vagina contracted as he teased her with the tips, warming her butt. She accepted each stroke and reveled in it, not worrying about what might come next. She didn’t care what came next. This moment would provide enough fantasies to last her a lifetime. She appreciated that he didn’t pull her out of the imaginary scene by asking her to describe it any longer.

In her mind, in this moment, she was bent over the boardroom table as Kristoffer flogged her.

But the blows of the flogger ended without warning, and he slapped her butt with something stiff and hard. A belt? Tawse? She clenched her hands. Another blow wiped away any concern about what he was using. All she cared about was that it had a delicious sting.

He didn’t fall into a predictable rhythm or pattern, but rained a variety of hard and soft blows all over her butt and upper thighs.

Oh, Christ! So good. Harder!

Had Roar’s breathing grown louder, or was it merely a byproduct of his exertion? “Your ass is red. You mark nicely.”

She wished he’d take a photo, but wouldn’t ask. Something about imagining his marks on her body nearly sent her over the top without even touching her clit.

“Spread your legs wider for me.”

She extended them to the edges of the top pillow, and the next few swats fell against her labia and clit.

Closer. So close to coming.

She’d never gone from zero to sixty this fast before.

“Put a finger inside yourself.”