Waiting For A Girl Like You Part 2

Hands at his side, he backed off. "You should leave now and never come back. This isn't your kind of place."

"Is this a thing of yours? Come on like you like me and then give me the brush off?"

"No, it's not a thing, and I don't like you," he said sharply. "I won't let this place destroy you."

I flinched. His I don't like you was a slap in the face. Instinctively, I knew he lied. His whole body leaned my way, and he couldn't take his eyes off me -not my naked body, but my face. Me. In his acerbic way, he was being chivalrous.

Still, there was the matter of the last thing he said.

"What do you mean 'you won't let this place destroy me'?"

His chin jutted at the door. "I mean, leave now. If you stay, you won't run into men as nice as me."

"As nice as you," I huffed. "Are you serious?"

The seam of his mouth flattened.

An AC/DC song blasted through the vent. New male voices rumbled in the hallway. There were eight rooms in Mrs. Smith's establishment and I'd heard tonight was fully booked. Despite the plain accommodations and cheesy red bulb hanging from the ceiling, Mrs. Smith's operation was high end, catering to lawyers, CFOs, and doctors from Los Angeles. Men bought dates for the night, not by the hour. Just about any fetish was served.

"So I'm an a.s.s. Got it," he said brusquely. "Now you need to leave."

"You have me for the night and that's it. Telling me what to do ends when the clock strikes midnight." I smiled thinly. "Or it ends when I say."

His frown deepened. Did he expect me to hightail it out of here because he said so?

Daisy, one of Mrs. Smith's "girls" I'd met tonight, warned me to be ready for anything and know my boundaries. She'd been at this job for a while. I'd pegged her as one of those women who thought selling her s.e.x was empowering. Not me. I thought it was stupid. But, desperate times called for stupid measures. At least I'd be smart about this, earn what I needed, and leave on my terms. One thing Daisy and I agreed on was boundaries.

Reckless energy prodded me. Peel back my layers, and you'd see shame bubbling next to eroticism at what I'd just done at Mark's command, but these were boundaries I wanted to push. Never mind that I argued comfortably with a man I barely knew while wearing only black panties and my best high heels. This roller coaster ride I was on had left the gates. I couldn't say why Mark's reaction irked me, but it did the way b.u.mping a bruise hurts.

Hyped up on hormones, I pointed at the nylon bag. "So what's in there?"

I was sure he had a few painful secrets zipped up in his black bag.

"It doesn't concern you."

"Then why'd you bring it?"

Mark's eyes narrowed. He was caught in a tug-of-war of his own making and p.i.s.sed off that I'd called him on it.

"You want to keep going." His voice was gruff.

"I do." I checked his crotch, gratified to see his jeans tenting. "So do you."

Hands on his hips, Mark's shoulders squared. I'd thrown down the gauntlet. Standing fully sated and saying I wanted more empowered me. Hawkish eyes studied me a few seconds before his wicked smile stretched.

"Stand under the hook."

CHAPTER FOUR.

Her nipples turned rosy. Sweet little Abbie might put up a good front, but she liked taking orders. A natural submissive. Tonight was supposed to be about getting relief and erasing memories. I'd told Mrs. Smith I didn't want anyone long in the scene. The date I bought didn't have to be a real sub: she just had to act it. Do this s.h.i.+t a while, and you get a feel for the real ones even if they don't know it themselves. Walk into a coffee shop or a party, and a true submissive stands out the way infrared energy does, lost to the naked eye yet radiant in the right conditions.

Abbie smoldered with it under the red bulb.

Her craving for this, for me and what I could give, vibrated off her body in the slant of her hip and the jut of her b.o.o.bs. For this being her first time, she took orders well, a woman born to obedience. The science geek in me wanted to laugh at the irony. Infrared was invisible radiation on the spectrum, lower in energy than red light, but f.u.c.k me if she didn't visibly burn in this little red room. She was a pretty, girl next door type, someone you'd expect to marry a nice accountant and settle in suburbia, not sell her body in a tucked away commercial park brothel.

I couldn't deny she stirred my cravings. My c.o.c.k almost exploded when Abbie boldly said she wanted more s.e.x. More of me. And she was savvy. She knew what was inside the bag was a delivery system to keep things going. I let out a huff of air. This was good. I connected with a woman without any risks. I could do this.

Crouched beside the bag, my hand hesitated on the zipper. I hadn't opened it in eleven months. It'd been that long. Until tonight with Abbie. All the old cravings roared inside me.

I fisted my unsteady hand. "f.u.c.k."

Tonight's date wasn't supposed to be an Abbie. She was supposed to be a nameless, faceless Barbie doll I could mess with and leave. When Abbie confessed to almost a year of just touching herself, I'd almost lost it. In the last few months, I'd tried bar hook ups, but never got past women pawing me. I hated it. The emptiness. The grime. My d.i.c.k barely mustered. Not since Lacey.

Teeth grinding, I'd gone a long time without thinking about her. I wanted Lacey's ghost gone forever, and for that reason I ripped the zipper from one end of the bag to the other. No one was going to talk me through the mora.s.s inside me. Lacey left a huge hole in me, and I was going to fill the void with whatever worked.

I pulled out wool-lined leather handcuffs. Abbie flinched when the small link chain hit the cement floor. To her credit, she didn't make a run for it when I stood up.

"Put your hands out."

"You're gonna cuff me officer?" She smirked, but the tremor in her voice gave her away.

I ignored her playful mouthiness and wrapped the restraints around her wrists. Scuffed D rings encircled wide leather handcuffs, flopping as I buckled the cuffs onto her wrists. Two were badly bent. Abbie's attention locked on one D ring stretched to an uneven circle.

"Th-that one looks well-used."

I denied her eye contact and slipped the chain connecting her cuffs over the hook. A kind of fusion happened when we looked into each other's eyes, and she fed off it. s.h.i.+t, I did too, but she wasn't following my one simple rule about not talking. She needed patient schooling.

So did I. Being with Abbie messed with me.

Arms strung high with a slight bend at her elbow, Abbie had some movement. She tested the hook, tugged it, let it hold her weight a split second. Powdery whiteness flaked in the creases of her underarms. Clean sweat and more orange and spicy ginger aromas wafted off her body. The column of her throat stretched beautifully as she eyed the hook, her jugular ticking fast under golden skin.

"You're not going anywhere," I said. "Spread your legs."

Pleasure flushed my back when the soles of her shoes sc.r.a.ped cement. Legs stretched, Abbie's nose was level with the middle of my sternum.

Blue-green eyes peeked up at me. "What happens next?"

I covered her mouth. "You don't talk, remember?"

Breath from her nostrils fanned my hand. We stood that way, her face tilted up, brows furrowing. I was about to explain safe word procedures when one tear glistened at the corner of her eye. s.h.i.+t. One tear threatening to spill ravaged me. A little fear of the unknown was good, but not this.

"We're not doing this." I reached for the chain.

"No, no. I can do this. I got scared. This...with you...it's a lot." Air hissed between her teeth. "Can we talk through this?" she whispered, her pretty eyes imploring. "Please."

She was cute and I was not into cute. Smart, alluring, oozing with s.e.xy confidence women, yes. Not coltish blondes with tender hearts. Standing this close, Abbie had the ability to strip me clean. She had no idea the power she wielded, her voice tenuous and eyes big.

My grip on the chain tightened. She wanted me, and I wanted her. f.u.c.k. I was tumbling down a bigger hole, the plan for a simple release long gone. How far would I go?

"Alright," I said, letting go of the chain. "We'll ease into this with one rule. You do what I say the first time I tell you."

"But I can still talk to you while I'm doing it, right?"

"Uh-huh."

Her body relaxed as mine wound up. The b.o.n.e.r in my jeans got harder. I stepped back, eyeing her slender thighs and sleek calves down to her stilettos.

"Your legs...wider."

She scooted both feet farther apart.

A throb drummed under my skin. The crotch of Abbie's black underwear didn't cover her spread v.a.g.i.n.a. Worn out elastic hung loose, giving me a slivered view of private blonde-brown curls peeking out of both sides of the gusset. Abbie wasn't up to date on her bikini wax. I hooked a finger on the panty crotch and dragged it to one side, careful not to touch her. Her flat belly clenched when cold air hit her s.h.i.+ny p.u.s.s.y. Despite her fear seconds ago, cute Abbie was a very wet girl.

"Oh, that's...that's..." Lids heavy, her voice trailed off.

I backed up and grabbed my j.a.panese clover style nipple clamps from my bag. Curling my fist around them, I didn't want her getting nervous. She was already breathing heavy and I'd hardly handled her. I wouldn't touch. My rules for me were rigid. Little to no skin contact.

Only a woman who belongs to me gets full skin contact.

Abbie gasped when I knelt between her legs. Her underwear gusset bunched up from my stretching it. I tipped my nose closer and breathed her in. Oranges and sweetness mixed with antic.i.p.ation and sweet s.e.x. My mouth flooded from the need to taste Abbie. I scrunched the black gusset to one side, exposing her again. Most dominants rarely tasted a submissive, deeming the act subordinate. The intimacy was saved for long term partners.h.i.+ps. That I hungered for Abbie's inner folds, a woman I'd just met, told me I was on my way out of the lifestyle. f.u.c.k if I knew what came next.

Red light s.h.i.+mmered on slippery pearl pink skin. Her c.l.i.t peeped at me. The little knot was barely hooded, begging to be sucked. Air dragged in and out of my lungs. My breathing was hard enough to stir damp curls. Gooseb.u.mps p.r.i.c.kled high on her upper thigh. How easily I could kiss each one away...slow kisses were skin was silkiest high inside her thighs. I don't know how long I sat, knees on the floor staring at her p.u.s.s.y and thighs, one hand holding the crotch of Abbie's underwear, the other fisting stainless steel clamps. Incandescent dampness slid down the inner wall of her l.a.b.i.a, one slow drip after another, the lush drops traveling over glistening flesh. A woman's private skin was her fingerprint, unique and beautiful to her. Staring at Abbie's p.u.s.s.y was a secret and a revelation. Breathing in her scent, I accepted she was much more than this place, this night. She was more than the sheltered blonde I'd held when she frigged herself. I was losing control, slipping into a no man's land of what and where I didn't know, but Abbie was my guide.

"Mark?" Her voice pulled me back.

Heat bounced off me. Static fogged my brain. I looked up. Blonde hair fell around her face, her b.o.o.bs. Those blue-green eyes were full of questions. At a loss for words, I used the j.a.panese clamps on her underwear gusset, slowly tucking the cloth to one side of her l.a.b.i.a, leaving her exposed with the chain brus.h.i.+ng her inner thigh. She wanted s.e.x. With me. Ample wetness didn't lie. Standing up on shaky legs, Abbie wasn't the one badly in need. I was.

No, I was a barely controlled mess.

"Mark," she called to me again as if I was far away and not twelve inches from her body.

"Yeah. I'm here," I said quietly.

"Kiss me."

Air gusted out of me. I craved a taste of her mouth. Standing up didn't matter because gentle, tied up Abbie was taking me down. "It doesn't work that way babe...you giving orders."

My voice was taut, reminiscent of how I sounded after a marathon work day.

"Okay," she said, the chain sc.r.a.ping the hook as she drew the word out. "Would you kiss me? Please?"

She made her request as if my denial stemmed from BDSM protocol. I wasn't about to explain how lost I really was. I was the guide who didn't know where I was going, but I'd hang onto whatever shreds of my old self existed and keep going. From the next room, the Stones' song Angie came through the vent. My brain dulled as my senses took over. Rhythm and arousal slid in my veins. Nothing was going as planned. One hand scrubbed my mouth as I laughed softly into my palm. I was a so-so Dom hungry for vanilla s.e.x.

Sandy blonde hair hid her b.o.o.bs. I wanted to see her pert curves and touch her hair. Pus.h.i.+ng it past her shoulders, Abbie's hair was soft, the strands falling through my fingers. Gooseb.u.mps pebbled her skin down to her bottom. I cupped the smooth roundness of her shoulder. I had to. I had to touch her. My hand slipped lower, a gradual trip cresting on her shoulder blade. I traced the triangular bone twice.

"I can't kiss you on the mouth," I said, casually exploring her ribs before my hand dropped ever so casually to the indent of her waist. "If I do..."

I couldn't breathe right touching her velvet soft skin. When my hand stalled on her a.s.s, I was done. Eyes shut I inched behind her and kissed her shoulder, letting my lips feel her.

"How was that?" I murmured against her skin.

Head lolled back, Abbie's body fit snugly with mine. "That was nice," she sighed. "But I was thinking a kiss on the mouth is better."

My hand slid over her pelvis down to her curved hip, the place I'd hold fast, guiding her movements when I drove my c.o.c.k into her. Two of my fingers slipped a half inch into her underwear before my hand went higher, and my middle finger dipped inside her tight belly b.u.t.ton. I teased the top of her panties with one hand, my husky laugh full of s.e.x. Nose buried in her hair, I could stay this way all night. Abbie was heaven after nearly a year of false starts. My hips rocked leisurely against her lower back, my erection safely inside my jeans.

How much touch could I take?

Abbie turned her head. Our lips were less than inch apart. Red light splashed across her skin, showing microscopic pores. Her nose tipped at me as if a kiss there would sate her for two seconds until our lips touched.

a.s.s swaying against me, Abbie's pliant mouth opened. "Please," she whispered. "It's not fair."

"What's not fair?" My mouth seeded kisses across the slope of her shoulder.

"You're dressed. I'm not. You get to kiss where you want-" She huffed, pus.h.i.+ng up on her toes when my fingers traced her body's midline to her chin. "-and I have to wait."

I cupped her chin, my mouth half an inch from hers. "This is what happens when you don't do what I say the first time."

"Wha..." Her neck arched, straining to close the gap between our mouths. Her tight a.s.s arched into me.

I slapped the side of her a.s.s cheek. "Should've been waiting naked like you were told."

She blinked at me. It took a few seconds to register. Her decision to keep her bikini underwear on while waiting for me.

"You won't kiss me over that?"

"I didn't say I wouldn't kiss you, but you're trying to top me." Dazed from arousal, she opened her mouth with what I was sure were more questions. I touched her lips. "I'll explain."

Abbie had no idea what she was doing, trying to direct what was happening between us despite being tied up. Sensuality had taken over and like any s.e.xual animal she was reaching for what she wanted. I was no different. We were falling into a pattern of give and take. No power exchange here.

Pacing a tight circle around her body, Abbie's blue-green stare traced me. I toed off one shoe and then the other all while Abbie watched me with her arms strung up. Forlorn eyes at being denied a kiss told me she was lost in a sea of arousal from touching herself and from mild surrender whereas my equilibrium was shot the moment she'd said h.e.l.lo.

I grabbed the bottom of my T-s.h.i.+rt. Cool air snaked over my exposed belly, and there I was...that feeling. I'm standing on a cliff in Mexico, facing deep water, wondering if I'll survive the jump.

CHAPTER FIVE.

Mark tugged his s.h.i.+rt over his head, telling me I was trying to top him. He briefly explained topping, each word husky and slow, weighed down by the sensual hum between us. I couldn't repeat what he'd said. Red light showered masculine angles and curves. Tight muscles furrowed under burnished skin. My attention slipped lower to abs meeting hip flexors, forming wide V shaped lines leading into his jeans, a special V that makes smart women dumb. A thin white line topped the waist band of his low slung jeans. That was the only top I needed to know.