DomNextDoor Page 2

  “Do it,” she taunted. “Do me like one of your submissive sluts.”

  His gaze narrowed. She had definitely pushed his buttons. Which was kind of funny because didn’t that mean she was controlling him and not the other way around?

  Grant didn’t bother taking down her panties. As soon as he had managed to lift her skirt enough he simply tore them off.

  Tris’ pussy flooded in reaction. To be wanted this fucking badly by a man like Grant was the greatest aphrodisiac in the world.

  With one hand between her thighs he used the other to open his jeans and free his cock. He took a condom from his pocket and sheathed his hard shaft. She ached to help but there was that whole Dom thing.

  Phooey. Tristy made a play for him, reaching for his engorged shaft. He took her wrist and bent it up behind her back, not painfully but enough to let her know who was boss.

  “Maybe a little confinement will help you follow directions, missy.”

  She arched her back, whimpering, wanting her pussy to make contact again. “I beg you to use me, Grant…use me, use your helpless slave.”

  Grant’s cock rammed into her. She took him to the hilt in one push.

  “Oh yeah, oh fuck yeah,” she exclaimed.

  Grant pulled halfway out and penetrated her again even harder. Letting her arm go, he braced himself on the edge of the table.

  Tristy moved forward, clinging to his neck. She shivered and trembled, her body already racked with the precursors to climax. He knew exactly how to work her. His teeth sank into her shoulder and his cock thrust in and out with just the right upward angle to send waves of ecstasy to her swollen clitoris.

  Again and again.

  Wow, was he ever a good lover.

  Make that a fantastic lover. The best one she’d ever had in her life.

  “Come,” she cried out. “Come with me.”

  She squeezed her pussy muscles, feeling the sides of his swollen shaft. She could feel the heat and the surging blood. It was going to happen any minute, any second.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  Yes.

  She was ready. Her body was pent up and charged as if she’d been waiting a thousand years for this. She wrapped her ankles around his firm buttocks, feeling the pumping muscles.

  All at once he started to growl, a low deep sound like a lion. Then he angled back his head and she saw the vein on his neck protruding.

  Exactly as she’d imagined him, exactly as she’d dreamed and fantasized.

  “Tristy,” he called her name.

  She melted as he slammed home one final time, the jets erupting hot and thick from his thrusting, conquering cock. She could feel it, even with the condom.

  Tristy responded with a loud moan and a sigh as the pleasure washed over her, palpable and so intense she nearly fainted.

  Explosions without sound, fire without heat, an internal world of utter absorption, on the edge of pleasure so sharp it pricked her in a million tiny places.

  Never had she had an orgasm like that. Not with any man in any scenario. No matter how much she was supposed to have been in love.

  If this was sex with Grant on a table top, what would it be like in a bed, taking their time?

  Grant continued to come, allowing her to move into a second and finally a third orgasm. He held on to her as she came back to earth, her body tingling and hot to the touch.

  His combination of gentleness and firmness made her want to cry. Why was it again that they couldn’t be compatible? Was it that big a deal?

  Maybe she could fake the BDSM.

  She had certainly had to fake enough other things in her previous relationships.

  “Wow,” he whispered. “Just wow.”

  “You said it, hot shot,” she breathed, still weak and limp against his body.

  “How’s your finger?” he teased.

  “What finger?”

  Grant chuckled, lifting her in his arms.

  She felt a flash of terror. Was he going to make her get dressed and go home? “Grant, can I stay overnight?”

  He frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  “I’ll sleep on the couch,” she said quickly. Not that she intended to stay there.

  “But your apartment is three hundred feet away.”

  “I don’t want to be alone.”

  “My couch isn’t any less lonely than your own bed,” he pointed out.

  She hugged his neck eagerly. “Is that an invitation to sleep in yours? I accept. Thanks.”

  He shook his head. “What am I going to do with you, girlfriend?”

  Anything you want, as long as it’s kinky.

  Chapter Two

  Grant had never felt so possessive of a woman in his life. Every fiber of his being told him to protect this fragile creature he was holding.

  He knew it was wrong, though. This was a dangerous road and he should have stopped tonight from happening before it started.

  If she had any idea what it did to him, watching the way all those jerks treated her, seeing her come over here time and again after getting her heart trampled on.

  The mutual attraction had been clear since the beginning. But she wasn’t his kind.

  Or was she?

  For play-acting Tris had done pretty damn good as the novice submissive finding herself in the arms of her Dominant.

  Maybe it was more than an act. Deep down, what if she was a sub? Grant pushed the thought from his mind as he carried the sleepy, purring blonde down the hall to his bedroom where he was about to put her in his bed.

  Real genius idea that was.

  Tristy was already half asleep by the time he laid her down. She was flushed and so totally sweet and sexy looking. She barely stirred as he took off her skirt and put her under the covers.

  The hell of it was, she was such a terrific girl—funny, smart, no drama, total relationship material.

  If not for the one little thing between them. Grant couldn’t be with a woman without a D/s component. He might lust after Tristy and fantasize over her, both of which he had done a hundred times over, but he could never be with her in real life.

  And yet he just had been.

  Consider it an anomaly. Something never to be repeated.

  Grant considered putting her in one of his old T-shirts but he decided against it for fear of waking her up. Best to let her be. Let her sleep off the sex.

  And in the morning everything would look clear.

  Or so he hoped.

  He debated leaving her there and going to the couch himself. In the end he stayed with her though he kept well over to his side of the bed, making sure not to risk touching her.

  Because if he did there was no telling what might happen next.

  * * * * *

  Tristy had not meant to fall asleep. When she awoke again it was dark, pitch black with only a sliver of light coming through the curtains to illuminate the room.

  It was silvery and terribly romantic.

  For a minute she thought she was alone and then she heard him breathing—the strong masculine sounds beside her.

  Her heart raced and her breathing went shallow. So she had made it to his bed after all. Turning over softly so as not to wake him, Tristy appraised the situation.

  Grant was on his side facing away from her. His back was bare. The sheet had gathered at his solid, narrow waist, emphasizing even more the god-like dimensions of his body—powerful thighs outlined under the white silk, an arm casually tossed behind him. The man was a vision of male perfection.

  And a short while ago he had made love to her.

  With any luck it would happen again. Soon.

  She was tempted to reach right out and touch him but she had to plan it right. If he woke too soon it would be game over. She had to string him along, seduce him in his sleep.

  Slowly, quietly she inched over. Conveniently he had left her naked. Her nipples peaked in anticipation of contact. She could feel the heat between her thighs.

  Thi
s time would be so much better. If it was possible to improve on what had already felt so damn good. The best sex of her life. Who could blame her for wanting more? Least of all the man who’d given it to her.

  Lightly, delicately, she leaned across and kissed his shoulder blade. He barely stirred as he made a low sound, like the masculine version of a sigh.

  Was he dreaming?

  It had better be about her.

  Tristy bit her lower lip. Feeling bolder she trailed her fingertips down his arm. He made more noises and stirred.

  That was when she made her move, kissing his back and pressing her breasts against him. With one hand at his waist she lifted herself to whisper in his ear.

  She told him what she would like to do to him and what she would like him to do to her. Tris moved her hand forward, wanting to reach his cock. Her fingers itched. She knew he was already aroused, she just needed the evidence.

  Grant moved so fast she never saw him coming.

  Before she could think of drawing another breath he had her pinned on her back, her wrists over her head.

  He regarded her, eye brow raised.

  “Tristy, what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

  Tristy gave him her best gotta-love-me-because-I’m-so-cute smile. “Would you believe I was looking for a contact lens?”

  “You don’t wear contacts.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot.”

  Honestly, he looked adorable trying to be so stern. She could just kiss him to death.

  “I knew this was a mistake, letting you stay.”

  “Oh come on, Grant. I promise I’ll be good. Pretty please?”

  “You can’t help yourself and you know it, Tris.”

  “Okay fine,” she acknowledged. “Then I promise to be bad.”

  “That I can believe.”

  Tristy lifted her leg and rubbed it against his thigh. “You just need to stop fighting so much.”

  “I’m doing this for both of us.”

  “Why? Because you’re worried your super sex powers will turn me into a walking zombie?”

  “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

  She laughed. “Trust me, you could never hurt me. It’s not in your nature.”

  “You aren’t submissive.”

  “I sure liked what we did before,” she countered.

  “That was…different.”

  He was trying to avoid the movements of her body, the press of her pelvis. The sheet was bunched between them but that was little protection. He might have her pinned but the price was a forced closeness between them. Grant was as trapped as she was.

  “I’m serious, Tris.”

  The way he talked—the stern but loving tone—made her even wetter. He cared about her. Outside of bed and in it.

  “Make love to me again,” she said.

  “No. And don’t try to change my mind.”

  “Tie me,” she said. “Spank me, whatever you have to.”

  “Damn it, Tris.”

  Was she making it hard on him? Good. She wanted it to be impossible.

  “We owe each other tonight. The whole night,” she pointed out their semi-agreement from earlier. “No weirdness in the morning.”

  He frowned but she could tell he was thinking.

  “There is one thing we could try.”

  “Anything,” she urged.

  “Don’t move,” he said as he released her and lifted off her.

  “Where am I going to go? It’s not like I have any hot dates.” She giggled, nervous excitement getting the better of her again.

  “Lucky for both of us, we barely survived your last one.”

  Which is why I need to start dating you. “I ought to have you go after some of these losers. Or better still put the fear of God into them ahead of time.”

  “I would rather they not come around at all,” he said.

  She watched him at his dresser, the broad shoulders, the tight waist and perfectly formed buttocks. More than enough to scare off one of her dates from hell.

  The fact that he was a cop on top of everything else didn’t hurt either. Every morning Tristy would listen, hear him leaving and she would say a quick, secret prayer and hope he’d be okay.

  And she would try to be around when he got back too. He worked odd hours. She tried to keep track of shifts without letting him know she was doing it. It was kind of sad that no one was there to welcome him home each time and kiss him goodbye. No police officer should have to go out there alone like that.

  But he seemed to like it just fine.

  And she wasn’t his type so she didn’t push it. So why did she miss him when they weren’t together and why did she feel herself light up when they were?

  Grant came back from the dresser with a blindfold and some silk cords.

  “What?” he said.

  She must have been staring. “Nothing,” she said, moist eyed.

  “If you want to go, say the word.”

  “No,” she said forcefully. “I want to stay.”

  “Okay then. I need you to close your eyes and lift your head.”

  The blindfold was velvet and it felt exquisite going on. The material smoothed over her eyes, bathing her world in total darkness.

  And total vulnerability too.

  Now she was dependent.

  And helpless.

  Oh god, it was exquisite.

  She could hear Grant—his steady breathing, the warmth of his body—her every sense heightened. He was sitting on the edge of the bed right beside her. “This is some light bondage, to give you an idea.”

  The cords were slipped over each of her wrists. It was a gentle but tight sensation, a strange mix. She could feel the ropes pulling tight. He must have been tying them to the bedposts.

  What about my legs? Tristy wondered. Will he tie them as well?

  No. He had a different plan in mind for them.

  A different, more subtle kind of bondage.

  He made her pretend.

  Not being tied was just as bad, if not worse, than being tied. Because as he began to touch and tease her above the waist she wanted to move below but he kept telling her no.

  His voice was the real bondage.

  The real domination of her flesh.

  Grant trailed kisses down her arms to her shoulders. He nuzzled her neck, he touched her cheeks, stroking. She never knew where he’d strike next and he was relentless.

  When he laid the flat of his hand on her belly, she moaned aloud. Her breath quickened. She undulated, lifting her stomach.

  “Be still,” he whispered, his words stinging hot in her ear.

  She moaned, her mouth dry as a desert, needing his kisses. There was so much she needed, so much to beg for.

  The first time his fingers found her breasts she went through the roof, like explosives going off. Her nipples felt tight and throbbing.

  He knew how to work her perfectly. She dug her heels in, lifting her pelvis, desperate to be touched between her legs.

  His hand found her buttock instead and delivered a light slap.

  She gasped in surprise.

  So this was erotic punishment.

  Not at all what she’d imagined, the mild sting was mixed with pleasure.

  Curious, she wanted more.

  “Down,” he warned.

  Tristy obeyed and her body was instantly filled with a thrill of a different kind. Surrender, delicious and sweet, but within safe boundaries. She had the word to stop things, plus she trusted Grant to never even come close to making her use it.

  It was like this win-win situation, and she was walking the line of utter possession by a strong alpha male.

  The bottom line was Grant’s absolute undivided attention, his guidance in making her what he wanted and needed for this experience. But he wasn’t trying to change her or get in her head.

  This was just a game.

  But Grant was anything but a player.

  “Good girl.” For a reward he touched her clit.

  S
he moaned at the pleasure radiating from her center like concentric waves that reached from the tips of her toes all the way to the top of her head and pooled in the hot lush spaces in between.

  “Spread your legs wider,” he said.

  Tristy complied, baring herself completely.

  He applied his fingers then sank them deep inside her.

  “You are so fucking incredible,” he said, making her well up with emotion in reply.

  He was pretty incredible too.

  “It’s time to focus on your pleasure,” he said. “And I want you to come as often and as loud as you like.”

  Tristy tensed at first, wondering what he intended to do. Then she felt his body sliding down hers, his hands traveling the length of her thighs.

  He wasn’t going to…

  Yes he was.

  He kissed her inner thigh, rocketing her with anticipation. The sensation was hot and cold at once, hard and soft.

  She clenched her fists, unable to budge her arms an inch.

  Grant moved between her legs. Then he moved his mouth to touch her delicate labia.

  Tristy wanted to cry out from the sweet joy.

  She’d had only two other guys willing to do this and they hadn’t been very good. One was way too tentative, as if she would break if he touched too hard and the other kept checking his watch. Talk about a turn off.

  Not Grant. He was here with her because he wanted to be. His every action showed tenderness.

  “Don’t fight the pleasure,” he warned.

  As if she would turn down a free orgasm?

  Grant rolled his tongue and dabbed her clit. It felt like a tiny cock, probing, pressing. Then he worked her sex lips, lightly tracing along the rim, up and down. She orgasmed in response, the sweet liquid dripping from her pussy.

  He lapped it up.

  She cried as he pressed harder, burying his face. Her thighs clenched the sides of his head, greedily pulling him into her. At the same time, she wanted him to slow down.

  It was all happening so fast. Like a tsunami crashing down. Grant was relentless, assaulting her with pleasure.

  “Oh god I’m going to…”

  She never had time to say the word as the orgasm ripped into her, tearing her body asunder, the cascading waves of ecstasy almost too much to bear.

  But Grant had only begun to punish her with pleasure. No sooner had she caught her breath than he began all over again, lightly stroking with his tongue, pressing, licking and nibbling.