Entirely, p.5
Entirely, page 5
I will. But relax. Or I’ll have to call you Daddy ;)
This was your idea, remember?
I do. See you soon. Jonathan.
In the elevator, he leaned back against the railing and crossed his feet and arms, taking her in. She could smell the leather of his jacket. Or maybe it was his belt.
His voice interrupted that train of thought, making her shiver in the best way. “So? How did it go?”
“Well. Surprisingly well for the first night.” It was thoughtful of him to wait to ask her, not that she would have shared details while they were walking on the street, where anyone might overhear. The city could be an astoundingly small world.
“Great. You look tired. Hungry?”
“I ran out and got dinner before everyone showed up. I’m not hungry. Maybe a little tired.”
“How about a bath, then?”
A warm bath and his soft bed, under the fluffy duvet with him. “That sounds perfect.”
He pressed a button on the elevator panel and it came to a halt. “Sounds perfect, what?”
She chuckled. “Jonathan. It sounds perfect, Jonathan.” She drew out his name, lowered her voice.
“That’s better.” His lips formed a mischievous smile. “I like hearing you say it. I could hear your voice earlier when I read it in your text.” He leaned closer. “It makes me hard.”
She kissed his chest at the notch of warm skin above his shirt button and inhaled his scent, leather and mint.
He cradled her head as he spoke. “Now, when we get to the apartment, you’re going to march that sweet ass into the bedroom, take off your clothes, and sit on the bed until I come get you. There’s a robe for you hanging behind the door.”
“Bossy much?”
“You might have been the boss all day, but you’re not the boss now. Are we clear on your orders?”
She liked this side of him. “Yes, we’re clear. Jonathan.”
His look sent searing heat through her, and the air in the small cabin crackled with desire.
The sudden zhhhup of the elevator motor and its upward lurch brought her wandering mind back; she hadn’t noticed he restarted it.
Inside the penthouse, she followed his instructions. Straight to his bedroom, changed into the robe, sat on the edge of his bed.
On the edge. That’s how he had her. A few minutes ago, she only wanted a hot bath. Now, she was wet. His look, his smell, his smile, his demeanor in the elevator—that’s all it took.
She wouldn’t like said demeanor in any other man, but with him it was different.
The door from the bedroom to the master bath was closed, but the sound of water streaming told her he had entered through the hallway and was drawing her bath.
Rustling ensued, and soon the door into the bedroom opened and he was coming toward her, naked as the day he was born, his gaze holding hers, his hardness bobbing with each step.
She swallowed as she watched him. Time slowed. He didn’t have six-pack abs and he wasn’t thirty anymore—hah, neither was she—but he was so handsome. His bright, focused brown eyes and those full lips, dimples when he smiled. Broad shoulders and muscular chest, that trail of curls that ran down his torso . . .
“What are you looking at?” He wore a self-satisfied smile.
“You. I’m admiring.”
He paused for a split second before continuing toward her, closer and closer until he stood right in front of her. She raised her hand to touch him, but he took a step back, out of her reach. “Open your robe.”
She did.
“Take if off.” She slipped her arms out of the sleeves and the thick fabric fell onto the bed. “Turn around and get on your hands and knees.”
She did as he asked, wondering if he could see her wetness. But she wondered only briefly because suddenly he slapped her ass. Hard. This . . . her eyes watered . . . this felt like punishment.
“What was that for?”
“You said you were admiring me, but I didn’t hear my name.”
Her right cheek stung. “Jonathan. I was admiring you, Jonathan. I’m sorry I forgot to say it.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll remind you.” Her mind flashed to Madame’s cane as he slapped her again. Now the left cheek burned equally hot. “Get those sweet, red buns into the tub.”
He climbed in after she did and sat behind her, stretching his legs out along either side of her body. Careful in the dim light not to knock over the tea lights he had lined up along the edge, she leaned back against his chest.
Touching him released the tension she had been holding all day. Everything went fine at the club, but she had been on high alert, ready to spring into action if a need arose. “This is perfect, Jonathan. Thank you.”
He kissed the top of her head and circled her nipples with a fingertip. “It will be my pleasure.” She glanced upward, one eye popping open at his phrasing. Will be. “Do you remember the bath the night you moved into the farmhouse?” he asked.
“Of course. Jonathan.” That night. He had undressed her, helped her into the tub, and left her alone. It was so considerate and respectful, caring for her while also giving her space. Later, she had kissed him for the first time.
“I so wanted to get in there with you, but I knew you needed to be by yourself. When I left the bathroom, there was this one fantasy I couldn’t shake from my brain.”
“Oh? And what fantasy was that? Jonathan.”
“I’ll suspend the name rule while we’re in the tub. I want your full attention.”
“You have my full attention, and I love saying your name. It’s just late, and I’m slow tonight.”
“Tub rule suspension in force. And I don’t want to hear excuses.”
“Okay.” She turned her head sideways and kissed his chest with the corner of her mouth. “Tell me the fantasy?”
“I thought of you pleasuring yourself. With a toy. While I watched you.”
He laid his forearm across her shoulders and leaned them both forward, reaching with his other arm for the rolled towel at the far end of the wide ledge. He slid it closer and leaned them both back against the porcelain.
“I did some shopping today.” He unrolled the towel to reveal four vibrators in a variety of shapes, lengths, girths, and candy colors. “I want to watch you.”
“There’s a wide selection,” she teased. “Which one did you imagine?”
“I didn’t get that specific. You can pick.”
She selected the turquoise one with the graceful curve, scooched closer to him, and slowly drew up her knees. With her back against his chest, she could feel him hold his breath as she slid it into her body. It glided easily, despite the water’s resistance.
She worked it in and out, reminding herself this was for his pleasure more than her own, so she wouldn’t feel so self-conscious.
He kissed her neck, and she shifted against him to move the toy deeper. His erection pressed against her lower back, and his hands reached around and cupped and kneaded her breasts, skimmed and pinched her hardened nipples. His name drifted from her mouth on a moan.
“You know, I think you enjoy being watched.” He increased the pressure as he played with her breast and brought his other hand to her clit, circling, teasing. “You remember not to come until I tell you, right?”
“Yes, but—” Instead of finishing the thought, all that came out of her mouth was a gasp. “I’m so close. Jonathan.”
Maybe if she said it even though she didn’t have to, he would let her come.
He pinched her nipple quick and hard. If he was trying to bring her back from the edge, that would not help—she was ready to tumble over.
He stilled her hand and cupped her chin, holding her to him. “Shhh. Breathe.”
Easy for you to say.
He kissed her shoulder, sucked on the bony protrusion like it was her nipple or, don’t think it, her clit. Slow and sensual.
Right now she both hated and loved how he caught her at the last possible second, dragged her back, made her release all the sweeter.
He let go of her hand. “Why don’t you get back to it? I want to see you come.”
“Yes. Jonathan.” In many ways, he knew her body better than she did, and he tightened his hold around her as she fell.
She drifted toward sleep with her head against his chest, until the gush of warm water near her feet jostled her awake. He was still erect, his hardness pressing against her.
“I’m sorry. What about you?” she asked, reaching back to touch him.
“I’m biding my time. We’re not done with you.” She felt a tingle, but it didn’t have that same igniting effect so soon after coming. He moved her hand back to where it had rested on her thigh. “Pick another toy.”
She was not one of those women who could pull off multiorgasmic feats of superhuman proportion like she sometimes read about in romance novels—it didn’t matter how strong her attraction was to him.
The next toy she selected was smaller, with a second stimulator; she would need backup.
He played with her breasts, stroking, tracing, flicking, and touched her while she used the toy. It was as if he were using his fingers to watch.
“Your lips are so full and warm. Imagine me inside you,” he whispered after a while, his tool firm against her back.
At hearing his voice, his words, the familiar wave welled and crested, and—“I am . . . I . . . going to come. Sor. . . Jonath—”
“Come for me. Don’t be sorry—I’ll give you a pass this time.”
The sudden wave washed over her; this one had taken her by surprise. He kissed her forehead as she shuddered against him.
“Beautiful.” He bent his head to kiss her mouth, nipping her lower lip. “I like our arrangement.”
“Me, too.”
He tapped her hand, gesturing for her to move it away, and carefully slid the toy from her body. Her muscles tightened around it.
He placed it back on the towel on the ledge and put his arms around her waist.
Her chest rose and fell against him as she recovered. “How do you feel?” he asked.
“Good. Mmm, very good. Jonathan.”
“What did I say about my name while we’re in here?” He splashed water on her chest, teasing.
“I know. You suspended the rule, but I want to say it. And maybe you’ll be more lenient next time I forget.” She splashed him back, then wriggled side to side to stroke him with her back.
“You shouldn’t think about leniency; you should remember to do what I ask you. And I don’t recall asking you to splash or tease me.”
He splashed her again.
“You’re right, Jonathan. I’m sorry.” She splashed him back—a move that would be called bratty at the club—then turned to kiss him.
He traced her lips with the tip of his tongue, and she opened to him. He claimed her mouth, and she welcomed his exploration, met his tongue in rhythm. When she brought her hand down and encircled him, his moan—and then his words—heated her mouth.
“I told you we’re not done with you. You’re not listening so well tonight.” With his index finger, he gently grazed her cheek. “I think you need to be punished again.”
She giggled. What was he going to do now, when she was as limp as a soggy washcloth? “You can always punish me, Jonathan.”
“You’re right. I can.” He took her wrists and held them tight with one hand. With the other, he reached into the basket of towels beside the tub and pulled out a bathrobe belt.
He used it to tie her wrists—not terribly tight, but taut enough to tell her he took their play seriously.
He pulled her back so she leaned on his chest again, her hands bound in front of her. Then he reached into the basket once more and lifted out what looked like a remote control. “Are you cold?” he asked.
“No, I’m fine. What are you . . .”
“Shh. Will I have to resort to new measures?” He reached into the basket yet again, sending a big soft towel pluffing to the floor. This time, he held up a red ball gag. “I love hearing your voice, but I’ll use it if I have to. Say ‘yes’ if we understand each other.”
“Yes. Jonathan.”
He pressed a button on the remote. The drain gurgled, and the water began to recede.
Another press, and warm water cascaded from the tap. When the water level had risen to the middle of her legs, he tapped one of them. “Legs up on the ledge, one on each side.”
She did as he asked.
“You sure you’re not cold?” he double-checked.
“No, I’m fine.” Heat rising off the water enveloped them.
“Then spread wider.” He tapped her thighs just above her knees, then pulled her legs closer in, opening her how he wanted.
He gently parted her folds and placed a toy she hadn’t yet used at her entrance. She was still wet with desire, but the bathwater made her skin catch. He repositioned it and pressed it smoothly into her, filling her completely.
He picked up the remote again to direct the shower head down a vertical rail, then adjusted the angle and the spray until a concentrated jet bombarded her most sensitive spot.
She writhed and moved her bound hands as one, trying to touch his wrist. “It’s too much.”
With the press of a button, he stopped the jet. “Shh . . . Relax.” He lifted her hair away from the side of her face, kissed the top of her cheekbone, and whispered in her ear. “I read about forced organism today. It intrigued me.”
“Now?”
“Shh.” He put his hand over her mouth. “Gag? Nod your choice.”
She moved her head from side to side.
“Lean back. Against me.”
With one hand still covering her mouth, his thumb breached her lips, and he rested it on her lower teeth. With his other hand, he pressed the remote and the spray hit her spot-on. He set the controller down, reached under the water, and turned on the toy.
The timed movements massaged her inside while the jet of water beat against her clit. With her legs spread and her calves over the ledge, with his deep dark eyes trained on her, there was no shrinking back, no hiding from any of it.
He kept one hand cupping her jaw, the other her breast, using his forearm as a crossbar to hold her still against him. Her hips bucked against the pulsating stream as the bathwater sloshed around them, the vibrator throbbing inside her until she heard herself scream.
“So, was that three or four orgasms, Ms. I-only-come-once?” He was drying her off, standing behind her so she could balance against him.
“I lost track.” She examined her fingers. “They’re as wrinkled as prunes. And my legs feel like jelly.”
“Are you sore?”
She paused before she replied, like she was assessing. “Not exactly, but I can tell I had a bit of a workout.” Her throaty giggle was adorable.
“Good.” He kissed the back of her neck at her hairline, taking in her scent. “Because you’re not done yet.”
She leaned further against him and sighed. “Jonathan, it’s late. I have to get up early and go back to the club.”
“Is that your way of safewording?”
She shook her head no. “I’m saying it’s late, and I’m really tired.”
With his hands on her shoulders, he moved her off his chest, making space between them. He took her hands and brought them behind her to remind her who was in charge. “What did we agree to?”
“I know. I haven’t forgotten. I want more of whatever you want to give me.”
His balls ached. Miraculously, he hadn’t come while playing with her, even as her ass moved against him each time she bucked, each time she came. Especially the last time, her hips pitched wildly even as he held onto her upper body. It was sexy as hell.
“Maybe I want to take.” He reached around her body, caressed her lower belly, and brushed over her swollen bead. He wanted her to take him in; he wanted to drive into her until she screamed his name without thinking—not because of some motorized piece of silicone and the shower spray beating against her, but because he was taking her to the height of pleasure himself. He wanted to hear her moan until they free-fell together.
“I’d like that Jonathan.”
“That’s better. Now, what’s your safe word, just in case?”
“I guess it’s not the most creative, but how about red?”
“Works for me.” He let her hands go and turned her around to face him, securing the towel above her breasts. “Go into the bedroom. Lose the towel. Get under the covers if you’re chilly and wait for me. I’m thinking you’ve had ample foreplay, but make sure you’re wet—I don’t plan to wait.”
He wanted to give her a minute to think about him doing her, so he brushed his teeth. With a hard-on wedged against the counter and Quinn naked in his bed, it wasn’t the most thorough job. He should rub one out now and enjoy her for longer—he wouldn’t last three strokes inside her like this.
But she was tired and, anyway, he was aiming for more of a psychological effect, of pleasing him even after she’d had enough.
When he opened the bedroom door, she was curled up on her side in bed, her breathing heavy and slow, her body naked like he had told her.
A real dom would wake her up and take her anyway, not think about it twice.
Those old familiar feelings of being a fake, a fraud, of being cast in a role he hadn’t earned came roaring back. As he had often felt when he was doing his show, and when he was married to Delphine, he wasn’t a real world-traveler, a real performer or, with Delphine, a real good-husband in real-love. In both those huge areas of his life, he was phoning it in, playing one on TV.
Careful not to wake her, he got into bed and under the duvet, cradling his arm around her body.
It was four o’clock when the sound of the faucet woke him, with a hard-on to put others to shame. She came out of the bathroom and shuffled sleepily back to bed. “You okay?” he asked.
“Fine.” She got into bed facing him and pulled the duvet over her shoulder. “I can’t remember anything after the bath.” She was almost slurring, half-asleep. She put her hand on his chest, and he took it and kissed it.
