Domination: Explicitly Yours, #2

The presidential suite transported Lola to her first night with Beau when the air had been thick with sex and excess. Now the room seemed spotless. The door was already closed behind them. Lola looked to Beau, waiting.

He watched her too, his eyes suddenly and rudely penetrating as he loosened the knot of his tie. He slid it from around his neck and unbuttoned his collar. He moved behind her and lifted it over her head. “Have you been blindfolded before?” he asked, hovering it in front of her eyes.

“Once. Not seriously.” At the beginning of their relationship, she and Johnny had spontaneously stopped in an adult toy store after a night out. They hadn’t bought anything, but unexpected moments like that sometimes inspired Johnny to be more adventurous. That night, when they’d gotten home, they’d used one of her scarves. “It didn’t last long after I hit my shin on the bedpost.”

“Not with me. I won’t let anything hurt you,” Beau said as her world went black. The tie was cool and smooth on her lids, but rough where he knotted it against the back of her head. His hand slid up the nape of her neck. He grabbed her hair and kissed her under her ear. “Walk.”

She took one step.

“Until I say stop.”

She instinctively put her hands in front of her. He guided her by her hair until just her thighs were up against something smooth and cool, like wood. He never told her to stop. “What are we doing, Beau?” she asked. “Why are we here?”

He touched the skin on her lower back where her dress dipped. He slid his hands up to her exposed shoulder blades, under the beaded, crossed straps and yanked hard.

“Beau,” she gasped when they snapped.

With another jerk, he split the dress down the back. Beads scattered, and the heavy dress slumped to the floor.

“What—”

“This was always the only destination,” he said softly behind her.

He kissed her between the shoulder blades and guided the upper half of her body down with a firm hand. She folded into a mattress and realized she was bent over the footboard. “But the dress—”

“Is ruined.” He separated her feet with the toe of his shoe and something silky brushed her bare calf. He dragged it up the inside of one thigh and slid it back and forth between her legs, rubbing it over her underwear. He wrapped it around her upper thigh.

“What are you doing?” she breathed.

“Don’t force me to become a cliché by asking you to trust me.”

She bit her lip when he pulled the fabric tight.

“I’m tying you to the bed,” he said.

He moved to her other thigh.

“Are you comfortable?” he asked.

“Physically, yes. But I don’t think I am with being tied down.”

“That’s fine.” He ran his hand up the back of her leg and slapped the crease of her ass.

She winced. The sting resonated through her just as deliciously as it had the first night when he’d spanked her.

“Beautiful,” he said. “I do appreciate the change in attitude where your undergarments are concerned.”

She breathed from her mouth. “They aren’t anything expensive, but—”

“They’re perfect.”

He pulled her thong down so it stretched over her thighs. She could picture it, the siren-red, lacy thing that molded to her hipbones, now bunched and cutting into her skin. Beau’s fingers had barely grazed her legs.

Glass chimed against glass. The pungent smell of hard liquor hit her. “Beau…”

“Are you saying my name because you know what it does to me?”

Her unease at being blinded and bound had dissolved as she’d anticipated his touch again, but it returned now. “I’m trying to trust you.”

“But you want to know what I’m doing.”

“Yes.”

“I’m appreciating,” he said with a resigned sigh. “If I were a less decent man, I’d take a picture right now to remember you by.”

Lola’s hands dashed to the blindfold. “You—”

“Don’t take that off.” His command came so strong, she froze. “I’m not going to take your picture. I told you to trust me. A camera wouldn’t do you justice anyway.”

She replaced her hands on the comforter. “You dress me up, bring me here, then make me spread my legs for your viewing pleasure while you have a Scotch?”

“Whiskey,” he corrected.

“Scotch is whisky.”

“Touché. Except this is the American sort.”

“A technicality.”

“Technicalities are not to be overlooked.”

“Here’s a technicality—you could not be a less decent man.”

He laughed. “If you could see how beautiful you look right now, you’d understand how much I’m enjoying this.”

“I doubt it.”

He hummed. “Lose the attitude for a minute, Lola. Listen to what I see—possibly the most entrancing woman I’ve ever encountered, folded over my bed with her sweet pussy displayed. Just for me.”

Her body thrilled with his words. Even blindfolded, Lola had to shut her eyes. Her heels propped her ass in the air, and her black hair would be messy from Beau’s tie. Without stockings, her legs would be long and white. Her body rose and fell faster on the mattress with each breath.

“The burn of quality alcohol in my throat,” he continued, “while I think of what I want to do to you next. I didn’t plan this part. If I’d let myself think of having you in this room again, I would’ve shown up at your front door and dragged you back here.”

Beau’s deep voice pushed its way into her. She gyrated her hips a little against the lip of the bed, trying to hit the right spot. He had that kind of control over her, even without touching her.

“I’m hard for you. I want to be inside you. But right now I need a moment to memorize the way your hands are clenching the sheets. Your red lips parting with each gasp. So fucking sue me. If this is my last night with you, I’m going to appreciate it.”

She practically writhed on the mattress. “You’re screwing with me, and it’s working,” she said. “I don’t care. Am I supposed to admit I want you? I do. I’m ready.”

His footsteps made little noise on the carpet, but she knew he was coming. There was a sudden, wet heaviness on her lower back. “Do not spill my drink,” he said. “I’m taking off my belt.”

She forced herself to keep from squirming.

“Now the rest of my clothes,” he said. “My cock’s reaching for you like you’re food and it’s been starving for months.”

She turned her head so her other cheek pressed into the mattress. She was getting uncomfortably warm. She squeezed her eyes shut behind the blindfold.

He thumbed her cheeks apart, then her lips, opening her for him. Without her vision, she never knew where his fingers would probe her next, heightening her anticipation.

“You weren’t lying about being ready.” His crown collected her wetness, sliding up and down. “God, Lola. I must’ve sold my soul at some point for something this good.”

Unable to take what she wanted, she was stunted but growing feisty. All she had were her words. “You think even the devil would have you?”

“He already does. He’s got me.”

“And you have me,” Lola said. “You’re my devil.”

He thrust inside her all at once. She made a noise between a yelp and a moan as whiskey sloshed onto her back. Beau removed the glass and lapped up the liquid, his tongue slick and slippery, leaving goose bumps along her spine. “Whiskey and Lola,” he said against her skin. “My new favorite flavor.”

“You’re going too slow,” she said.

He dropped all of his weight on her back, sinking her body into the mattress. “How do you want me? Faster?” he whispered in her ear, picking up his pace. “Harder?”

“Yes,” she said. “Yes to everything.”

He slid his hand under her neck and lifted her head backward as he gave her what she wanted. “Waiting for you to come back was torture,” he said while he fucked her. “Does that make you happy? Knowing how hard it’s been for me?”

“No.”

“Liar. You like to watch me suffer. Tell me I’ve owned you too.”

He would never stop. He wanted more and more. She’d known this about him from the start—he was driven. Ambitious. Strong. She hadn’t realized how it might be to have him go after her with all of that. She hadn’t realized how much she’d want to give in. She bit her lip. “I’m the one who suffers.”

“How?”

“I can’t have what I want.”

“What do—”

“You.”

“I’m here, Lola. Right here.”

She grit her teeth. Nothing mattered outside that moment. She could take what she wanted, and nobody would ever know but them. “You’ve owned me. Not just my body.”

“How else?”

She was barely able to focus, but she still knew the things she could never say. I could love you. If you don’t stop, you’ll own my heart too. “I don’t want to leave you,” she said, her voice pitching.

“If I never untie you, you’ll have no choice.” He stopped moving. “Is that what you want? Me to take away your choice so you feel no guilt?”

“No,” she said. “I don’t know. Don’t stop. Please.”

“Tell me how you belong to me.”

“I can’t. You know what’s true. Don’t make me say it.”

With one hard thrust, he was pounding into her again. “Then tell me what’s mine.”

“My pussy is yours.”

“Bon petit chatte,” he groaned. “Keep talking.”

“I don’t want to say goodbye. I don’t want to leave.”

He pulled on her hair as she buried her head in the bed. The comforter muted her cries when her orgasm broke her apart from the inside, leaving her a shivering mess beneath him.

He didn’t slow his rhythm. He took what he needed, hard, unrelenting, still pulling her hair, sucking on her earlobe, whispering almost inaudibly in her ear until he came too.

He didn’t move off her for some time. Her breaths were soft whimpers. He removed the blindfold, but Lola’s eyes were closed anyway. She sighed, only lifting her head when Beau pulled out. The white bedspread was smeared red from her lipstick.