The Best of Kristina Wright (3 page)

I didn’t like the conversation, but I knew if I continued to argue with him, he would leave. I wasn’t sure how I knew it, but I did. I thought hard for a moment, trying to put my feelings into words. “Because I’m used to being in control.”

“And I make you feel out of control?”

I played with the salt and pepper shakers. “You make me question myself.”

“Interesting.”

I felt like a science project. I also felt a need to clarify myself. “It’s mostly curiosity,” I said, sounding defensive even to my own ears. “It’s not like this is going anywhere.”

Again, that soft, sexy laugh. “Oh, really? Is that what you think?”

I didn’t get a chance to respond because the waitress brought our drinks. I waited until she’d gone off behind the counter once more before saying anything.

“I think I’m going to be very careful around you.”

He nodded. “Smart girl.”

We talked then, about inconsequential things. My job as a librarian, his as a college professor. I wasn’t surprised he taught college. He had the air of a man comfortable in academia, in instruction. I wondered, almost jealousy, if any of his female students had experienced his disciplining side. Somehow, I didn’t doubt it.

An hour slipped by and my cocoa grew cold. He pulled a few bills from his wallet and tossed them on the table. I felt an irrational disappointment to know our time together was over.

“Don’t frown,” he said.

“I didn’t know I was.”

He reached across the scarred table and circled my wrist with his fingers. I could feel my pulse jump and I knew he could, too. “You’re upset it’s time to go.”

I swallowed hard, but I nodded.

“So, don’t leave me just yet. Come to my house.”

I gently tugged my wrist free of his grasp. “I can’t go with you. I don’t even know you.”

He studied me carefully, as if memorizing me. “You know me. And you’re afraid of what I know about you.”

Almost against my will, I asked, “What do you know about me?”

His fingers took my wrist once more. “I know you’re nervous, a little afraid.” His grip tightened. “I also know if I asked you to go to the restroom and remove your panties, they would be soaking wet.”

I gasped, but I didn’t attempt to pull away. Nor did I deny his statement. How could I? I’d been wet since I’d spotted him in the grocery store.

He smiled. “Good. I didn’t want another argument.” He rubbed his thumb over the pulse in my wrist. “Now, do you want to come with me?”

I didn’t miss the double entendre. “I don’t know.”

“Honest enough. Would it make you feel more comfortable to go to your place?”

I thought for a moment before I shook my head. “I don’t think so.”

A frown line creased his brow. The pressure on my wrist grew tighter. “Then what?” Then, a smile. “Oh, I think I know.”

Again, my pulse began to race. “What?”

“Do you have a key to the library?”

“Oh, God.”

More pressure. “Answer me, please.”

I nodded.

“And there’s a security system, I’m sure. You know the code?”

“Yes,” I whispered hoarsely.

My mind racing as quickly as my pulse. Could I get away with it? Yes, probably. The library was tucked away off the main street through town, no one would be likely to notice if we slipped in through the back door and didn’t turn on the lights. But just because I could get away with it didn’t make it a good idea.

“Don’t think about it. Just feel. React. Respond. The only consequences are the ones you make for yourself.”

I didn’t believe him for a minute, but I knew I was in too deep to say no. Even the threat of losing my job wasn’t enough to keep me from sliding out of the booth and walking toward the door. I was going to do it. Not because he told me to, but because I wanted it.

The library was dark and silent, the parking lot empty just as I knew it would be. He’d followed in his car and parked beside me in the employee parking area. I lead the way to the employee entrance, keys jingling in my trembling fingers. At the door, he put his hand over mine as I went to insert the key in the lock.

“This is it. If you don’t want to do this, say so now and it’s over.” He caressed my hand with the most delicate of touches. “But if we go inside, be prepared to give up your control.”

I’d already worked it out in my mind, but when he put it that way, I hesitated.

He smiled, and it was a wicked smile. “But if we do go inside, I promise you won’t regret it.”

I turned the key and entered the security code. My hands were hardly trembling by the time I lead him into my office behind the circulation desk. Now that I’d committed to this, I was feeling calmer.

He sat in the comfy chair in the corner, leaving me standing in the middle of the room between my desk and the door. He looked around, studying the pictures of Paris and Milan hanging over my desk. My office window looked out onto a pretty garden area with reading benches. At this hour, all I could see were the lights from the parking lot.

“Close the blinds,” he said.

I didn’t argue or question. The last thing I needed was a nosy teenager, or worse, a cop, driving by and peeking in the window. While I wasn’t quite sure what was going to happen, I was pretty sure I didn’t want anyone watching.

When the blinds were closed, he nodded. “Good. Now turn the desk lamp on.”

The lamp he was referring to was more decorative than functional. I quickly obeyed and the parchment lamp shade cast an intimate golden glow across my office.

“Now, strip.”

Whatever I’d expected, it hadn’t been that.

I fumbled with the buttons on my blouse. There was still some rational part of my brain that couldn’t believe I was undressing in front of a stranger. In my office, no less.

The blouse fell away, leaving me in my bra and conservative skirt. I paused, waiting for him to say more, but he didn’t. He only stared.

I reached behind me and unzipped my skirt. The motion forced my breasts up and out, and I watched his eyes drift to my chest. My nipples responded to his gaze as if he touched me. I felt them tighten, pushing out the material of my bra.

The skirt pooled at my feet. I reached for the clasp of my bra, afraid that if I hesitated, I wouldn’t be able to do it.

Justin watched as I removed the bra. He watched as I slipped out of my shoes. My legs were bare, the summer weather and a good tan making stockings unnecessary. My panties glided down my thighs and then I stood before him naked.

“Very nice,” he said. His voice was cool and distant, as if he was admiring a piece of artwork. “How do you feel?”

“Vulnerable,” I whispered.

“And?”

“Excited.” The confession came at a price. I could feel myself blushing and knew he could see it on my neck and breasts.

“Good. That’s how you should feel.”

A long moment went by as he stared at my and I resisted the urge to fidget. Finally, when I couldn’t take his silence any longer, I said, “Now what?”

“Impatient?”

I nodded, though I wasn’t sure what he was asking for.

“Do you like pain?”

The question took me by surprise and I blurted, “No!”

He tsked. “Get dressed.”

“What? Why? What did I do?”

Justin stood quickly and I took a step back. “You misled me. I thought you shared my interests.”

“I don’t know—”

He closed the distance between them in two long strides. My back was up against the wall, the soft brush of his shirt against my bare breasts. My breathing was ragged and harsh. I realized I sounded like a woman in arousal, not someone who was afraid.

“You know exactly what I’m talking about. I’m interested in exploring pain. Namely, yours.” He took my nipples between his fingers. “If you want me to stop, simply pull away.”

I couldn’t have moved if the security alarm had gone off.

“If you want me to continue, ask me to hurt you.”

His words were soft and surprisingly arousing. I lowered my head, ashamed and embarrassed by my feelings, my gaze falling to my nipples imprisoned in his fingers. The sight of my pink nipples against his tanned fingers brought a soft moan to my lips.

“Well?”

“Please.”

“Please what?” His fingers just barely held my nipples. “Don’t play games with me, little one. You won’t win.”

I raised my head until I met his gaze. “Please hurt me, Justin.”

Almost immediately, he began to twist my nipples. If I had thought about it, I might have said the pain began even before I asked for it, as if he knew I would ask. The pain intensified, a warmth flowing from the tips of my breasts across my chest, radiating a steady, constant pressure that became more and more intense.

I wanted to squirm, to cry out, but something in his expression made me stay still and quiet, my back pressed to the hard wall while he tortured my tender breasts. He gave my nipples a particularly vicious twist and I bit my lip until I tasted blood. It hurt, no doubt about it, but there was also a heaviness in my cunt, a corresponding tingle in my clit with every painful twist of my nipples.

“You please me,” he whispered. He leaned close and gave me a chaste kiss on the lips that seemed incongruous with the rest of the situation. “Your threshold for pain is going to be a delightful challenge.”

I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that, yet I felt myself smiling in spite of the pain. “Thank you.”

He tugged my nipples out from my breasts, stretching the already pained skin, then released them. The ache began as the blood flowed back into them and I moaned softly.

“Nice.”

Before I could respond, his hand was between my thighs, squeezing my cunt. The sensation was pleasurable at first and I pressed against his palm. Then he exerted the same pressure on my pussy that he had on my nipples and I gasped.

“Pain with pleasure,” he murmured. “There’s nothing like it.”

I wanted to ask him how he knew, if he’d ever felt pain during sexual arousal or if he only liked to inflict it. The words died in my throat as his fingers found my clit. With a quick, steady motion he kneaded my swollen flesh roughly. So rough, in fact, my body couldn’t decide whether it felt good or hurt. My hips moved of their own accord, alternately thrusting against his wrist and pulling back as far as the wall would allow.

“Don’t think about it,” he said. “Let your body decide what it likes.”

I closed my eyes and rested my head against the wall. My body was aching for release, that much I knew. Justin seemed to realize that, because each time my body would tense for orgasm, he would pinch my clit that much harder.

“Please,” I begged, though I could barely speak loud enough to hear myself. “I can’t take any more.”

He chuckled softly and rolled my swollen clit. “You’ll be surprised how much you can take.”

I shook my head, denying him – or denying myself? I couldn’t be sure.

“You’re going to come on my hand,” he said, matter-of-factly. “You’re going to come and it’s going to be stronger and harder than anything you’ve ever experienced.”

I kept shaking my head.

“Yes, you are. And it’s going to hurt, which is going to confuse you more.” He pushed a finger in my drenched cunt, then slid another one in for good measure. “But you’re going to love it and you won’t want it to stop.”

He was finger-fucking me now, hard. Hard enough to lift me up on my toes with each thrust of his hand. I whimpered and moaned, clutching at his shoulders with my hands, but not pushing him away.

“That’s it,” he coaxed. “Feel it, feel everything. Come on my hand. Let your body have what it needs.”

I was moaning now, almost screaming with the intensity of the sensations he was causing. I could feel his cock, hard and insistent, pressing against my hip bone as he angled his fingers higher into my cunt. He wanted me. He was giving me pleasure and hurting me at the same time and he wanted to fuck me. The fact that he wasn’t as distant as he sounded made me relax.

“Come,” he said. And though his voice was as harsh and cold as his fingers in my cunt, I knew he was enjoying me.

With his fingers driving into my cunt and my clit rubbing against his wrist, I came. I clung to him, whimpering and sobbing as I rode a powerful orgasm, his demanding cock bruising my hip, wanting me.

“Yes,” he hissed, close to my ear. “It’s what you need. Show me what you need.”

I sagged against him, no longer caring I was naked and vulnerable in my own office. All that mattered was the orgasm, the release. What he had given me, what he had taken from me. They were one and the same. I came and whimpered and said his name like a prayer.

He lowered me to my knees, his hand cradling my head against his erection. The fabric of his pants was soft against my cheek and I nuzzled him, weak and satisfied and still craving more.

He pressed my head against his cock, hard, then harder still, until I thought he might leave a mark on my skin from the zipper. I let him rub his crotch against my face, wanting only to please him.

He gave my hair a tug, forcing me to look up at him. “What do you say?”

My brain felt fuzzy, my speech slow and thick when it finally came. But I knew what he wanted. I knew it instinctively. “Thank you.”

“Your pain arouses me,” he said, holding me against his cock as proof. “That’s the first lesson.”

“Will there be more lessons?” I dared to ask, looking up at him. My heart was throbbing in my chest, afraid he was going to leave me now that he’d proven he could have me.

He smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant smile. “We’ve only just begun.”

She peered into the darkness through the streaked windshield. She should have waited until morning, but it seemed important to do it at night. The spring rains had made the dirt road soft, so she kept the tires in the well-worn ruts, driving past row upon row of corn, silent sentries in unwavering straight lines. These fields had been in her family for four generations and she knew them like the back of her hand, even in the dark.

She coasted the truck to a stop as she came to the end of the dirt road, where cornfield gave way to empty prairie. In the dark, beneath a blue moon, all she had to remind her of the flowers was their scent – wildflowers, their brilliant hues blanketing the grasslands like the Seurat painting “Forest in Barbizon” she had seen years ago at a traveling exhibit in Iowa City.