Getting Naked: A Romance of Bondage and Discipline Page 9

  "Why couldn't it have been love at first sight?"

  Damn it, she was so adorable, so incredibly fucking fantastic. He'd never imagined it could be this fun with a woman, just mixing it up, arguing, and debating. It was like she was the balance to him and him to her; a kind of secret lynchpin between them that allowed them both let it all hang out safely.

  "Because ... because...” His objections dissolved into vapor as fast as he could think them, her pretty face, and her sassy self just a little to hard to argue against. “Because that's kid stuff,” he settled on at last.

  "So you don't care if you ever see me again? Or touch me?"

  Now that was hitting below the belt. “It's not about what I want or you want. It's about the practicalities of life. Aren't you the one who kept saying how messed up things were for us from the minute we met? And last I knew you were blaming me for everything? How come you're not still furious with me?"

  "There are a lot of reasons. For now, let's just say I got even tonight and now I feel a lot better about everything. I'm ready for a fresh start. Come on, what do we have to lose? One cup of coffee, I'll pay for it, even."

  This was no good. Surely there was no way he could agree to such a thing. Besides, there was the banquet to finish. He told her this, to which she replied that she would happily wait for him. He could think of more excuses, but she'd likely shoot them down just as easily.

  "You won't take no for an answer, will you?"

  She arched a devastating brow. “What do you think?"

  Nick sighed. “I think I will have one cup of coffee ... and only one with you. So long as it's clear my sole purpose in agreeing will be to convince you to never want to see me again."

  "Deal,” she agreed. “As long as you realize I reserve the right to ignore anything and everything you say."

  "Well, you are a woman,” he conceded.

  She grabbed his flagged, twice spent cock. “And you're a man. Want to make something of it?"

  "No,” he retracted her hand. “I do not."

  Later, he told himself, he would gain the upper ground and end this silly nonsense between them, once and for all.

  * * * *

  Morgan wanted to fuck again. He was back in his tuxedo, sans tie. His hair was a tiny bit out of place and his eyes had the smallest traces of crow's feet. Seems the man only got better looking when he was more tired or exasperated. She herself was back in her street clothes, a short denim skirt and black spaghetti strap top. She had sandals on and she was feeling very naughty.

  They took separate cars to an all night diner around the corner. He led them to a secluded booth in the corner, which was more than fine by her.

  "Coffee, please, decaf,” she ordered from the rail thin waitress with the tall hairdo.

  "Regular coffee,” said Nick.

  "Caffeine is bad for you,” she pointed out. “Especially late at night."

  "I do it all the time. See how wrong we are for each other?"

  She slipped her foot from her sandal and put it between his legs, pressing her toes against the cool smooth leatherette. “If we were together, I'd make you forget about caffeine."

  "If we were together,” he trumped, “I'd take you somewhere and punish you for what you're doing right now."

  Her heart quickened. “And what exactly is it I'm doing?"

  He scowled, shifting to accommodate erection number three for the night. “Asking for more trouble than you can handle."

  "I handled plenty back at the banquet."

  "Yes you did, but this time it would be in your ass, after a nice little peppering with my belt."

  She felt her insides go weak. “Wouldn't that hurt?"

  He shrugged. “Like I said, it would be punishment. For a woman like you it would probably be fun, though."

  Her brow shot up. She could sniff a challenge a mile away. “And what kind of woman am I, exactly?"

  "The kind who likes to explore her limits. Who isn't afraid to live out her desires ... even if they involve submission."

  "And your desires, what about them?"

  "My chief desire right now is to stay single."

  "So I shouldn't try and get you drunk and drag you off to a wedding chapel in Vegas?” She wiggled her toes against the familiar contours of his manhood.

  "I think you'll have your hands full right here."

  "Is that a threat?"

  "A promise.” His eyes were dark, playful, but a little on the predatory side, too.

  What exactly have I unleashed here, she wondered. The way he was looking at her, it was like he intended to fuck and punish her right here and now.

  "Touch yourself,” he said, not a request.

  She swallowed. “But ... how?"

  "It's not very complicated, Morgan. You open your skirt and put your fingers down inside the waistband."

  "People could see,” she pointed out.

  "They could see what you're doing to me just as easily, but that doesn't seem to concern you, so long as you are enjoying yourself."

  She pulled her foot away. “Point made."

  "No,” he countered. “The point is very much not made until you put your fingers in your pussy and masturbate."

  "You can't make me."

  "Sure I can, Morgan. It's part of that great chemistry you love so much between us. I give the kinky suggestions and you follow. Just like hypnosis."

  "I never said I loved the chemistry, just that we need to explore it."

  "Why? So we don't regret any missed opportunities down the line?"

  "Maybe.” His scathing rejoinder concealed pain, obvious to her if no one else.

  "I have regrets all the time, Morgan. I regret that my father was an alcoholic that he grew so suspicious of my mother's beauty he shot her because he thought she was cheating on him."

  Morgan wanted to reach for him, to comfort him. But there was no way between them but the sex. “All right,” she said softly. “I'll do what you say."

  She flicked the button of the skirt and unzipped it halfway, enough to fit her fingers inside. Her pussy throbbed in anticipation, producing fresh moisture.

  "Nick, you're the only one who could ever make me do this,” she assured him.

  "You seemed pretty revved up tonight in front of all those men."

  "I saw only you.” She jolted, very slightly at the feel of her fingertips on her pussy lips. “No one else was there. How do you think I could do it at all? I shut everyone else out."

  "You saw nothing. An image, that's all."

  "No,” she shook her head. “It was you."

  His face was hard-edged; she liked it when he got this way, because she knew what would come next. Sex. Hard and fast.

  "We're going to find a hotel room,” he told her. “You're going to deal with this erection you've just given me."

  "Will it be anal?” She wanted to know, her voice thick with desire.

  "I already told you it would."

  "You said the belt, too,” she reminded.

  "Take off your panties,” said Nick, ignoring her.

  He had her do it right there in the booth, working them down over her ass and hips. When they got to her ankles, she stepped out of them, one foot at a time.

  "Put them to my nostrils, let me smell."

  She stooped to pick them up. They were wet and fragrant. He leaned forward allowing her to reach his nose.

  "I'll tie your hands with them,” he said, “while you're being punished."

  "Yes, Nick."

  "Leave them on the table."

  They didn't touch the cups of coffee the waitress had brought. Nick left a twenty to pay for them and off they went. He chose a relatively sleazy motel, with a half lit neon sign under an overpass in one of the worst areas of town.

  It was somewhere she would never go on her own. Just being here made her feel sexier.

  As soon as they got in the room he gave her marching orders. “Strip and crawl onto the bed. Stay on all fours, facing the wall."

>   She pulled the shirt over her head. Her breasts ached. The skirt she peeled down, quick as she could. Stepping out of the sandals, she found herself naked, naked and more than a little ready.

  Her whole body burned for his touch. On her hands and knees, she climbed onto the king sized bed and took up her position. She couldn't see him, which made it all the more maddening. She could hear his zipper, the sound of his heartbeat. She could smell his cologne as he moved about. She could feel his enchantment; he was drinking her in, he was letting himself become intoxicated.

  How completely open he had her, her little pussy, her eager asshole totally sensitized.

  "You really came,” he marveled from somewhere over her shoulder. “You're actually here."

  "Where else would I be?” She wiggled her ass in appreciation for his strange contrasts, the incredibly cold veneer in dealing with her as a woman and these incredible little bursts of pure kindness and warmth and even insecurity.

  He tickled her posterior with the belt, rubbing the doubled over end. “You'll know after one hit if you like this or not,” he said. “Either it turns you on or it doesn't. If not, I'll stop."

  "Why do you like it?” She wanted to know.

  "I don't know,” he admitted. “I've been mostly on the outside looking in."

  "Though your camera lens,” she mused.

  "Yes.” He tested the belt once or twice in the air, landing it on the surface of the bed. “To me it looks like the flesh being kissed. Like a kind of penetration almost. More intimate and unique than sex."

  He struck her in the middle of her cheeks, the crisp thwacking sound filling her with instant heat and internal light. Everything went on at once inside. She fell forward, stunned, onto her belly.

  "Too much?” He asked.

  "No,” she got back onto all fours. “Do it again."

  He did and this time she stayed up. “It's good,” she said perversely. “It's hot and wicked. Beat me again, Nick. Beat me with your belt. Tell me I'm a bad girl."

  "Oh, you are, Morgan. You need it hard on your ass and then you need to take my cock. Deep."

  "Oh, yes, whip me, make me do it."

  The belt hissed in the air. She anticipated and delighted in each landing. One smack blending into the next. How many in all? Was he going easy on her?

  "That's enough.” He dropped the belt and went to get something else.

  She waited for him, her next breath hinging entirely on his return. At that moment, he was the center of everything, the sum total of all that was real and living for her.

  "Lotion,” he said, returning with a small plastic bottle from the toiletry case he'd brought

  "I thought you said you didn't do this sort of thing very much,” she teased as he applied the cool, soothing substance.

  "I use this for models."

  "That's still a lot of ass touching."

  "It's business. Not like with you."

  That was a high compliment and she knew it. If things went south, and they easily might, that was what she would hold onto in the days to come. She, Morgan Anne Baines had not been crazy. This man actually had told her there was something non-business between them.

  "I hope you will do more than touch.” She sighed in ragged joy as he pushed his fingers up inside her narrow opening.

  He had more of the lotion, and now she realized the dual purpose of it. Nick was helping lubricate her posterior.

  "Oh, I will, trust me."

  Morgan gripped the bedspread with her fingernails. It hadn't really dawned on her up to now that this was real. Her ass was hurting and she was about to be taken anally.

  "Nick you should know..."

  "You're a virgin back here,” he supplied.

  "Uh huh."

  "If you're not up for it..."

  "No, I want it ... from you.” She'd never been more certain of anything in her life.

  "But is it what you want or is it what you think I want?"

  Stop the presses. The man wanted not only to consider her feelings but the feelings behind the feelings. This was definitely another side of Nick Tremaine.

  "I want it for both of us,” she replied.

  "I know I want you,” he bent to kiss her back. “You're so damned beautiful, Morgan. Do you realize that?"

  "No. Women aren't supposed to notice that on their own. That's the man's job."

  "Well I can't imagine you missed hearing it about a million times so far in life."

  "Not from the right man."

  His cock was at the tip of her opening. “I want you to relax, Morgan. It will go in more easily."

  She tried her best to comply, though she was still pretty tense. Once again, it was his voice destined to do the trick.

  "There's nothing to be afraid of, Morgan. Just think of yourself in the bedroom of the pasha. You've been freshly perfumed and oiled for his pleasure. You've been bathed and dressed in the finest silk to be presented to him in his marble bedroom. He has received you in your beauty, and ordered you upon his bed for pleasure.

  "He will take you and you must open to him. He will enfold you in his love and strength; he will take and possess you. You must surrender to his wisdom, and to his cock, you must give him all."

  She gasped as he pushed himself gently forward, helping himself to the recess between her cheeks. “Yes,” she exclaimed. “I want to please him. I don't want him to abandon me ... so lonely, without him."

  "He is consumed by you,” Nick declared. “Your scent, your beauty, the unique shade of your skin. He is obsessed with having you as no other. He lies awake thinking of how to make you his ... like no other."

  "He must marry her,” said Morgan. “He must forsake all his other wives and live with her, in a Christian marriage."

  "Why settle on only one, when he can have so many?” His cock disappeared another inch into her tunnel. “He already has her, now, why surrender the rest?"

  "Because,” she panted, “she can give him something the others cannot."

  "What is that?"

  "Love,” Morgan proclaimed.

  He grunted, shifting his weight. He was interested in conquest at the moment, not love. “There are forms of love, you know that as well as I. One form is only lust, another is exploitation, and the third is a thin disguise for hate."

  "Oh ... Nick, you're so big like this."

  "I know,” he chuckled. “This is why guys like anal sex, it makes our endowments seem a lot more impressive in a smaller hole."

  "Baby, you are a perfect fit everywhere."

  He snaked a finger up inside her pussy. “I aim to please."

  She giggled, full of rich, deep lust. “Oh, you do."

  Nick moved in further and then pulled back. Twice he did this, establishing the movements of his fuck.

  "That's the way,” she encouraged. “Give it to me."

  He was doing just that, giving her this incredible sensation of fullness, of being had, not a purely sexual pulsing like when he was in her pussy, but pleasant nonetheless. And there was that finger, too, which had apparently worked out some kind of deal with her clitoris such that they were on a first name basis.

  Parts of us click, she mused. Parts of us work together, like nobody's business.

  "Gonna come ... soon,” he grunted, serving notice. “Want you ... ready ... to come with me."

  "Oh, baby...” The gesture opened her wide, putting her in more than the right frame of mind. “I'm yours ... you know what to do."

  Nick did it, quickly and masterfully. Artfully and powerfully pistoning while pressing her clit. Another finger was deep in her pussy and he whispered the magic word.

  "Come, Morgan ... come for me."

  "Oh, Nick, yes,” she obeyed.

  Morgan surrendered deep, letting him in more than ever before. Her pussy spurted release and her lips cried out the ecstasy. She wanted him in all the way, in her and over her. His sperm was like a horizontal rain, drenching the dry channel. Would she hold it all or would it pour back out?
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  She was orgasmic by now, the ultimate release coming not only in her pussy, but everywhere he was touching, invading, possessing.

  I'm his, she thought. I'm his woman. How could I have doubted?

  Nick grunted, like he'd been struck with an arrow. He fell heavily beside her. Had she hurt him somehow?

  She called his name, rolling to touch his shoulder. He was stiff, almost cold.

  "Gotta go,” he said.

  And off he went to the bathroom.

  Well this was fucking familiar. Except he wasn't even making any lame excuse about a towel before he ran off this time. He emerged distant as ever, that “I've never really fucked you” look on his face. “We just thought we did."

  For a rational, intelligent man he could sure be dense.

  He was on the floor fumbling for his clothes. “I can't find my cumberbund."

  She had a good place to shove that cumber bund right now and the rest of the outfit with it. “How the hell should I know? I'm just the mistress, not the wardrobe mistress."

  "I'm not even married, Morgan, I can't have a mistress."

  Saints be praised, she actually had him talking. “So what am I then? Could you please give me some kind of title? Make an honest woman of me?” She sat up, pulling the sheet about her breasts. “At least leave fifty bucks on the dresser so I can earn a whore's wage."

  He zipped his pants. “Don't make this more difficult."

  She shook out her damp, tangled hair; feeling suddenly underdressed. “Oh, I'm sorry, and how can I make things simpler for you? By letting you get deeper and deeper into my heart and not saying a word as you bleed me dry? You're like some nightmare highway crew, Nick, you're digging these gaping holes in me and you won't fill them in."

  "So stop coming back for more, Morgan. It's that fucking simple."

  She fought the tears. “You can be a pretty nice guy, Nick, but you can also be the mother of all pricks, you know that?"

  "I'm sure you can find a nice boyfriend in med school to cry to; spend the rest of your life talking about your sleazy little affair with a porn photographer."

  "No, Nick, that's where you're wrong. What we have is not sleazy ... you make it that way. Just like you make yourself into the kind of person you are. I didn't get close to you because I saw a scumbag. If you want pity, you'll have to provide it all by yourself, because I'm not buying it."