Текст книги "Playing Hard to Master"

Автор книги: Sparrow Beckett

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Текущая страница: 3 (всего у книги 15 страниц)

“It’s okay,” Ambrose said. “I’m not in a rush. I’ll run home and get the stuff, then you can text me when you’re done. Send me your address too.”

“Okay.” She tried to bite back a grin. Second date with a Dom who, so far, was cool, funny, and could handle her. Not bad for Saturday plans. It beat cleaning anyway.

Shit. Panic hit. Her apartment was a mess!

After Ambrose left, she turned to Chloe. “I gotta go clean!”

Her friend laughed. “He’s hot. If you’re not calling dibs . . .”

“Dibs!”

Max put a hand on his hip. “I was about to call dibs!”

“Pretty sure he doesn’t swing that way, sweetheart.”

“One night, baby.” He winked. “I just need one night.”

Laughing, Chloe waved her away. “Go. Clean your house. Don’t forget the bedroom. Do you need condoms? They have them at the health clinic.”

“Shut up!”

Chloe fell into a fit of laughter.

“I’m a grown-up,” Everly said. “I know where to get condoms.”

She handed off the flyers so they could return them to the community center then turned to leave, ignoring their snickers.

“We want details later,” Max yelled after her.

She gave them the finger over her shoulder.

*   *   *

Her apartment was presentable by the time the doorbell rang. Wanting to impress him with neatness seemed like the wrong way to start a relationship, especially since it was a lie. Normally, random clothes and shoes were strewn around each room as if someone had run out halfway dressed in an emergency. But that was just the way she lived. Her last vanilla boyfriend had been a mama’s boy—his expectations of Everly made June Cleaver look like a slob. Needless to say, they hadn’t lasted long.

Now that she had more experience with BDSM, she’d been safewording vanillas anyway.

She swept her gaze over the room one more time before answering the door, making sure she hadn’t left a pair of underwear out—or something even more embarrassing.

When she was satisfied with the condition of the place, she opened the door. Ambrose smiled, and her heart fluttered. In his arms, he held a bundle of blankets.

“Hi.” She stepped aside so he could enter. “You can just throw those on the couch.”

“Okay.”

After unloading the pile from his arms, he pulled off his coat. Her mouth went dry. The gray T-shirt gave her a good look at his arms again. Was there such a thing as arm porn? He’d be a star.

Fuck. Was it hot in here? Tattoos were her weakness.

Forcing herself to move before she drooled on her shirt, she went to the couch to see what he’d brought. Staying busy would keep her mind off wanting to jump him. “This was really nice of you, by the way.” She sifted through the items—each one in perfect condition. They even smelled new. “These are great. You wouldn’t believe the amount of . . .”

One of the cashmere blankets still had the tag on. “Um . . . Did you want to keep this one?”

“Oh.” He actually blushed. “That was a gift. I guess I didn’t take the tags off yet. Keep it. You need it more than I do.”

She didn’t see that coming. He’d been a gentleman at the club—a bossy one but still respectful and kind. But donating all this stuff took it a step further. The fact that he cared about the shelter gave him major brownie points. She pictured him at protests with her, holding signs together, cozying up to stay warm.

She’d tried dating a fellow protester once, but that ended up being the only thing they had in common. When they’d eventually made it into bed, and she’d told him about her kinks, he’d equated it to abuse against women and walked out. But if Ambrose cared about social justice even half as much as she did and he was good in bed, she’d hit the fucking boyfriend jackpot.

She realized she was doing that stupid puppy staring thing again and cleared her throat, trying to stay focused. “Um. Can I get you a drink?”

“I’m okay. Can I sit down?”

“Oh! Of course!” Why didn’t she think of that?

He chuckled then they both sat on the couch. Smiling, he said, “It’s really cool what you do. I mean, I know people who donate money, but I’ve never met someone so . . . hands-on.”

She laughed. “That’s what people without money do when they want to help.”

“How often do you do protests and stuff?”

“I’m an active member of Community Cares. It’s a nonprofit organization that advocates for community-based services for those who need them. We also work to change local policy to help close the socioeconomic gap and make opportunities more equal for everybody.”

“Wow.” He pressed his hands together. “That’s amazing.”

She shrugged. “It’s nothing. I mean, I wish I could do more, but I gotta work, too, so I don’t end up in the shelter.” Again. But she didn’t say that. A second date was no time to get into her life story. “How’d the wedding go? Did your friend like your haircut?”

“She did. Though she was pretty googly-eyed for her Master.”

Her brows rose as her interest piqued. “It was that kind of wedding?”

“Yes. Well, it was both. She had vanilla family and friends there, so the Master/slave part was very subtle.”

“Are all your friends kinky?”

He laughed. “A lot of them are. My two best friends are both Masters.”

Jealousy speared her. What she wouldn’t give for that. “That’s awesome. I wish I had actual friends in the lifestyle. I have some vaguely kinky friends who are understanding, but no one to really talk to about this stuff. A few acquaintances from the club, but that’s it.” She gave him a sidelong look and smiled. “Maybe I can wiggle my way in and steal your friends.”

“You don’t have to steal them. I know how to share.” He winked. “I’m sure they’d like you anyway.”

“You think so?”

“What’s not to like?”

Though the sentiment was sweet, he really had no idea what he was talking about. She frowned then stared at the floor. “I’m a brat.”

“So?”

“Masters hate brats.” She knew from experience. And if his friends were Masters . . . they didn’t stand a chance together.

He placed a hand on her knee and she looked up at him. “My friends understand there are all types of subs. And they respect the girl I’m with, regardless of whether they like the kind of sub she is or not.” He sat back, withdrawing his hand, and she wished he’d put it back. “Besides, it’s none of their fucking business. I like brats, and that’s all that matters.”

She beamed at him. God, he was sexy when he swore. She liked that rough-around-the-edges thing—the attitude that they didn’t give a fuck what anyone thought of them. Yeah, Ambrose had that in spades.

Her gaze dropped to his arms again. Mmm. She’d like to see where else he had tattoos. Maybe lick them.

“What do your tattoos mean?” She eyed the Roman numerals. They made him look even more dangerous, which made him more irresistible.

His smile was wicked. “If I tell you my secret, you have to promise not to rat me out.”

“Rat you out?” She laughed and traced the figures with tentative fingers. “I can keep a secret.” Had he done time or something? Maybe he had kids from a previous relationship?

Ambrose held his arms out to her. “The story behind these probably makes me sound crazy, but since you seem trustworthy, I’ll tell you.”

He sighed dramatically, like he was weighing whether or not she could handle what he was about to say. Now she was more nervous than intrigued.

“These are the dates . . .” He paused, eyeing her cautiously.

“Yes?”

“. . . that both sets of my grandparents got married.”

She arched a brow at him. He couldn’t be serious. Shouldn’t they be something less . . . sappy?

“You don’t believe me? It’s true. Both sets of my grandparents had serious romances going on, and stayed married until they died. Maybe it’s not very cool for a guy to want to immortalize that with ink, but it reminds me that life isn’t all about paying bills and collecting shit.”

Oh God. He was serious. That was possibly the sweetest thing she’d ever heard.

When he looked at her weirdly, she realized she was smiling up at him like a giddy schoolgirl. She gave her head a shake. “That’s really cool, actually. I didn’t expect that.”

“Did you have fun the other night?” he asked, as if struck with the urge to suddenly change the subject.

Maybe he didn’t like looking like a romantic sap. Did he think it ruined his image? Because she was pretty sure girls would be crawling all over him if they knew.

“Wasn’t it obvious?” The challenge in her tone surprised her more than it seemed to surprise him. It was a curse that whenever she got horny, she got bratty. The more turned on she was, the brattier she acted. And right now, her heart was pulsing in rhythm with her clit.

Ambrose arched a brow. “It seemed like you enjoyed yourself, but I like to ask subs outright. It’s better to have clear communication than be left guessing and get it wrong.”

“That’s very responsible of you.”

“I’m not an asshat Dom. I care about what subs want and feel.”

In that case, I want to feel you inside me.

She squirmed, suddenly flushed.

“What was that thought?” He narrowed his eyes. “You just gave me the naughtiest look I’ve ever seen.”

She smiled slyly. He wasn’t going to get it that easily.

“Are you going to tell me?”

“You’ll have to guess, Sir.”

Keen interest stirred in his gaze. “Someone wants to play again?”

She stayed quiet, refusing to deny or confirm. Let him figure it out. Playing coy was one of her favorite games, and it drove good Doms crazy.

“Tell me the dirty thought you just had,” he ordered. The rumble in his voice made her shudder.

“How do you know it was dirty?”

“It wasn’t?”

Many thoughts about him were dirty. She merely smirked.

“Should I force the answer from you?” He shifted as if he were uncomfortable, which only made this more fun. “You like role-play. Should I interrogate you?”

“Sharp metal objects are a hard limit.”

He chuckled. “How about spanking?” Did his hand just twitch? “Is that a hard limit?”

God, she hadn’t been spanked in ages. It’d give her a good idea of what his potential was. Slightly, she shook her head.

A second later, he swung her over his knee. She yelped in surprise. Changing into a short skirt and leggings when she’d gotten home had been an excellent idea. Would he do what he’d promised in the club and pull them down?

Fuck. She was wet already. Her breasts poured out of her bra—a hazard of being a DDD—and her nipples tightened.

But she wasn’t easily cowed, and he needed to know that. “Am I supposed to be intimidated by a hand spanking? Please. I’ve played with canes, Sir.”

He chuckled. While she hung over his legs, she wondered if he was the kind of Dom who could make her scream. Unlikely with just his hand. Maybe he had a belt he could take off. Or she could get her toy box from the other room . . .

Smack.

“Ouch!” A wide streak of heat spread from where he’d hit her. “Where did you get the paddle?” Did he keep one in his back pocket?

“That was my hand, sweetheart. Still not impressed?”

Whack.

“Fuck.”

He paused then ran his hand over her ass, soothing the sting there. Maybe she was slightly impressed. He had a fucking hard hand.

“You gonna tell me what you were thinking, or should I keep going?”

After two smacks? He had to be kidding.

“Huh? Did you say something? I just dozed off.”

He laughed, making her body shake against his. “Such a little brat.”

Yes, Sir!

“Your safeword is ‘red,’” he said, serious now. “If you don’t want to play, I suggest you say so now. Otherwise, you’re agreeing to be mine. For now.”

He waited. She pursed her lips.

“Since you have a safeword, I’m taking your stubborn silence as consent.” With that, he lifted her skirt and yanked her leggings down, taking her panties with them.

Holy shit. He doesn’t fuck around.

She dug her fingers into his legs and braced herself. Was she afraid of him? There weren’t many Doms that could inspire that in her. That sliver of fear, of uncertainty, was one of her favorite parts. She clenched her thighs together to relieve the ache there.

“Fuck, you have a gorgeous ass,” he mumbled.

Her face heated. Men loved it because it was round enough to grab onto, to hold while they fucked her, or to take a good beating.

Grunting, he adjusted himself underneath her body, muttering something about her killing him. She wasn’t sorry.

A moment later, he brought his hand down on one naked cheek. Hard. She gasped and shut her eyes as the pain peaked then faded. But then he did it again, just as hard. And again. He fell into a rhythm quickly—slow enough to make her feel each one, fast enough that she didn’t have time to recover before the next one landed. And he wasn’t holding back.

Her bratting must have hit a nerve for him to spank her so hard. Still, she was known in the scene for being a stubborn bottom. She had plenty of cushion back there.

Minutes went by, and he kept going faster and harder. At least it felt harder. Her ass was burning now. Worse than the last session she’d had with George, a top from the club. And he’d used an actual paddle.

Unable to stop herself, she started to squirm, trying to dodge the blows. He held her easily and kept up his unrelenting assault. Damn, he had a hard hand.

The pain was intense and she started to kick, then twist to free herself. Tears pricked her eyes. She was gasping for breath. But no way would she safeword for a fucking hand spanking.

Her suffering became obvious, to her shame, when she couldn’t keep the yelps and whimpers in anymore.

“Ambrose,” she finally pleaded, in a voice almost too small to hear.

He stopped.

“Did you have something to say about my hand?” He rubbed his hand over her sensitive skin.

Her thighs clenched as wetness pooled there. God, how could she be so horny after that?

When she didn’t answer, he flipped her to kneel between his legs. Her face was probably bright red, but she hoped he didn’t see the tears in her eyes. Thankfully, she managed not to let them fall. She was putting her reputation to shame. What kind of brat cried during a hand spanking?

“A brat masochist.” He tsked. “You are a handful, aren’t you?”

She didn’t answer, figuring the question was rhetorical. Also, she didn’t want to embarrass herself with a trembling voice.

“Did you think I couldn’t hurt you? Hmm?”

She nodded.

“And now what do you think?”

He wouldn’t let her get away with not answering, she was sure of it. After a deep breath, she pulled herself together and said, “You have a hard hand, Sir.”

Chuckling, he ran his hand down her hair, tenderly, as if it would make up for the other pain he caused. It didn’t. “I know you’ve played with canes, but I’m not the kind of guy to jump into that. I need to know your pain tolerance first. Not to mention, I call the shots here. Not you. I don’t tolerate topping from the bottom.”

“But, Sir . . .”

“Yes?”

“I’m so good at it.”

He laughed. “I don’t doubt it. But that’s what frustrates you about other Doms, isn’t it? They let you get away with it. You know deep down inside, that’s not really what you want.”

She kept her gaze on the floor to keep him from seeing the truth in her eyes. No need to show him everything all at once.

But he wasn’t having it. With his hand under her chin, he lifted her head so she had to look at him. “Am I right?”

Their gazes locked. His blue eyes seemed to search her, pull answers from her without her permission. Shit. She was used to building walls, and here came Ambrose, looking in the window. He wouldn’t let her hide.

She nodded, feeling warm and safe for some reason. Maybe, just maybe, he could really handle her. Was it too much to hope? To trust?

“Good girl.” He stroked her cheek with his thumb.

Her muscles turned to Jell-O, making her want to melt onto the floor.

“Now let’s go back to the beginning.” He let go of her face then folded his hands together. “Tell me, brat. What was that naughty thought you had earlier?”

Rolling her eyes, she asked, “I’m supposed to remember that now?”

“Yup. Do you need some inspiration to help you?” He started to pull her back over his knee.

“No!” She struggled and he let her go, smirking the whole time. Bastard! Pouting at him, she said, “You said you wanted to know what a sub wants and feels. Well, I thought in my head, I wanted to feel you inside me.”

He stared at her for a long time. It was supposed to be a joke. He wasn’t laughing.

Finally, he cleared his throat and said, “Really?”

“It was an errant thought. And meant to stay in my head!” She gave him her best evil glare.

In less than a second he had a handful of her hair tight in his fist. Wrenching her head back, he growled, “Don’t you glare at me.”

“I wasn’t!” she cried. “That’s just my face!”

A laugh burst from his mouth then echoed in the room. She almost smiled. He shook his head. “You are really asking for it, girl.”

“Nooo.” It came out whinier than she’d meant. “I’m sore already.”

He released her hair and she rubbed her aching scalp. God, he hurt her so good.

“So you want me to fuck you?” he asked, as if they were negotiating where to eat for dinner.

Was fuck yes too desperate? “If that’s what you want.”

He sucked in a breath. “You have no idea.”

They stared at each other for a moment. Everly shivered at the intensity in his eyes, like he was fighting with himself and losing. Maybe she’d jumped the gun when it came to propositioning him.

He cupped her jaw in one hand. Was he trying to get her attention? He already had all of it. “I want you to go fetch your toys. Everything you own. Bring it all back here and put it on the coffee table.” When he let her go, she almost expected him to snap his fingers at her, but he didn’t. The silent snap rang in her head though.

“Why?”

“Because I’m a nosy fucker and I want to see what you’re into.”

Everly blushed so hard it felt like she’d sunburned her cheeks. How did he keep making her blush like that? She wasn’t some sweet little vanilla girl. Nobody would mistakenly sacrifice her to a volcano.

An array of things she had no intention of bringing out to him danced through her mind, like kinky sugarplums. He didn’t need to know everything about her yet. Sometimes a girl liked to be mysterious. Wasn’t that allowed?

“Whatever you just thought of hiding from me, don’t. Subs who aren’t honest with the Doms they’re playing with rarely get what they want.”

Maybe Kink Yoda had a point, but that was only half the story. “Subs who play with Doms usually get what the Doms want, so I don’t win either way.”

The grin that spread across his face was mildly disturbing. “Show me everything, and we’ll see if I can give you what you want.”

Ambrose looked so evil she felt faint. Some Doms had tried that expression on her before, but they’d just made her roll her eyes. He was way too good at this.

“Fiiiiine.” She got to her feet and before she got out of reach, he swatted her ass.

“That would be ‘yes, Sir,’ brat.”

“Yes, Sir Brat.” She bolted into her room, smiling at the sound of his laughter. A man who thought her sass was funny? Inconceivable!

There was a laundry basket in the closet, and she dumped her clean, unfolded laundry on her bed before she started raiding her toys. It would be so much easier if they were all in the same place, but they were strewn around her bedroom. Some were even in the bathroom, living room, and kitchen. No man had ever asked to see all of it, but as she lugged the overflowing basket back into the living room, her collection made her feel slutty and deviant.

Far from judging her, Ambrose’s eyes narrowed with interest. When she pulled the nipple clamps out from between the couch cushions and the tangled shibari rope out of the bottom of her kitchen cupboard, he was shaking his head in bemusement.

She plopped the basket on the coffee table in front of him.

“Did you host a play party here recently?” he asked, peering around the room as if more toys would leap out from their hiding places.

“No. I’m just not a very orderly person.” She shrugged. “Sorry if that bothers you.”

He chuckled then stared up at her. “It’s adorable.”

For a moment, she got stuck in his gaze. He thought her messiness was adorable? Did she just win the guy lottery?

Finally, he looked away and focused on the basket. “So what you’re saying is that you weren’t lying about your experience?”

“Disappointed? Were you hoping for a girl you could introduce to kink and mold to your own specifications?”

“I prefer women who know what they want and aren’t shocked by what I’m into. If they can act shocked, that’s more than enough for me.” He winked at her, then shifted forward to look in the basket. One by one he took the items out and laid them on the table, until they were in a few jumbled piles.

“What categories are you sorting by?” She couldn’t see a pattern. “What you’re into, and what you’re not?”

“No. Things I’m going to use on you today, things I might use on you the next time we play if you still like me, and things we need to work up to.”

“Use on me today?” It was the biggest pile!

“Well, we’ll call it ‘options for today.’ It’s probably a little late for this, but do you want to make a safe call before we start?”

“Oh.” She’d been so carried away she hadn’t even thought of it. The fact that he was urging her to make a safe call made her feel like she didn’t need one, but still. “Hang on.”

Breathing unevenly, she grabbed her cell and hit DIAL on Max’s number. He answered right away.

“Hey, Miss Behavior. What’s shakin’? Did you scare him off already?”

“Uh, no. Not even remotely.” She turned her back on Ambrose like it would give her more privacy. “We’re going to play for awhile, so I’m using you as my safe call.”

He snorted. “Go get your freak on, honey. Am I calling you in an hour or two?”

“Um . . .” She looked over her shoulder at Ambrose, whose eyes gleamed with sexy menace. “Maybe two.”

Max whistled. “I’d say don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, but I know you will anyway.”

“Two.”

“Yes, two. I’m setting my timer.” He mwahahahaed and hung up. Jerk. Why Max was one of her best friends, she had no idea. Probably because he gave good advice, didn’t judge her, and could keep his mouth shut. That and they liked the same movies.

She turned back to Ambrose and laid her phone on the bookcase.

For an awkward moment she wasn’t sure what to do.

“Come sit.” He patted his lap.

Uh . . .

He arched a brow at her, apparently not interested in her momentary self-consciousness regarding lap sitting and her curves. But at his size, at least he’d be hard to squish.

Everly eased herself down onto his thighs and tried not to make eye contact.

“Mmm.” He ran his hand reverently along her thigh. “So tell me what you like.”

The toys weren’t enough? She hated these conversations. It was more fun to play and safeword when she had to, although some guys hated having to change course in the middle of a scene.

“Normally, I’d give you a checklist to fill out, but this wasn’t exactly planned.”

“You don’t walk around with hard copies in your pocket? That’s poor planning.” She tsked and shook her head at him. “What happens when you have hordes of kinky girls chasing you and you have no checklists?”

“You have a very pretty mouth.”

Everly got flustered again, and found herself sitting still and blinking at him.

While he had her mentally off balance, he kissed her. Unlike most guys she’d played with over the years, he was in no hurry. He kissed her like kissing was his entire goal for the day, like it was better than beating her or fucking her. Like they were in high school and kissing was her limit.

She kept waiting for something to happen, but until she relaxed and reciprocated, and started getting both turned on and starry-eyed, he didn’t go any further. Max was going to call back and her biggest injury would be chapped lips.

Eventually, he pulled away. “I’ve been thinking about that since the club.”

“Kissing me?”

He smiled, his eyes half-lidded and hazy. How could such a big brute of a man be so sexy?

A big hand slid into her hair, and he kissed her again, but this time he took control of her mouth, kissing her with more passion. Her inner high school girl started longing for backseats and lost underwear.

As if on cue, his free hand snuck up the front of her sweater. He cupped one of her breasts and made a sound like he was pleased. His thumb ran over her nipple, teasing, circling. Vanilla shouldn’t be turning her on so much. Disgusted with herself, she squirmed in his lap.

“I don’t like vanilla,” she murmured.

“Mmmhmm. You don’t not like it.” He kissed her again, proving she was a liar. “Rushing things is fun sometimes, but we have no reason to rush today. Unless you have somewhere to be?”

“No, Sir.”

Ambrose coaxed her up and led her to a bare wall, then stripped her clothes off with the exception of her bra and panties, which matched. For a moment, her coordinated undergarments made her feel like she had her shit together. When she’d dressed this morning, this hadn’t been on the agenda.

If he wasn’t into curvy girls, he could make a living acting on Broadway. He turned her toward the wall.

“Put your palms flat against the wall.”

She thought of making a joke, but she didn’t want to slow him down. He ran his hands over her, inspecting, claiming. He seemed to be cataloguing her reactions—what turned her on, where she was ticklish—and was using her weaknesses against her. Without meaning to, she arched her back and thrust her ass out at him.

“That’s a good girl.” His hands skimmed over her backside. “Put an ass like yours in a commercial, and they could sell a man anything.”

Apparently he’d sniffed too much glue as a child, but she wasn’t about to hold that against him.

He unhooked her bra and slid it down her arms, then laid it aside when she pulled her hands out of the straps. From behind, he let his hands glide upward until he had cupped her breasts. His lips grazed the side of her neck just as his fingers coaxed her nipples into points, and he groaned in her ear.

Her breath came in short staccato bursts, and for one embarrassing moment she thought she was going to come. Sure it had been a while, but her reactions to him were ridiculous. He handled her body as though he not only owned her, but thoroughly enjoyed owning her. Her body agreed wholeheartedly.

How was Ambrose single?

She widened her stance, hoping he’d take the bait. The way he toyed around the perimeters of her underwear, making the waist and leg bands the limits of where he’d let his fingers stray, was making her crazy.

“What’s wrong, Everly? You seem to be having a problem. Is there anything I can help with?” His fingers crept under her waistband but didn’t drift lower.

Abruptly, she stood on her toes, and his unsuspecting hand ended up halfway down her panties.

“Hey, are you trying to rush me?” Rather than pull his hand back, he slipped his hand between her legs and found her clit. She squealed and rose higher on her toes.

“I didn’t mean to . . . I . . .”

He tugged on it painfully.

“Oh fuck.”

“Should you rush me?”

“Fuck no, Sir. Please let go?” Everly’s body shuddered, wanting more, but she was afraid she’d scream.

The pressure eased, but he grabbed her by the pussy and forced her ass back against him.

He ground against her. “I want to play with you, but my cock is in a big rush to get inside you. Should I tell it to be patient?”

“No. It should be impatient. I’m feeling impatient, too, so get on with it.”

Ambrose moved away from her, shuffling the things on the coffee table, then he came back. She tried to look over her shoulder, but he smacked her ass.

“Eyes on the wall.” His voice was low. “You don’t get to tell me what to do.” He fiddled with her nipple and attached a clamp to it.

“Ow!” She tried to avoid him, but he got its twin on her other nipple without much work. The firm pressure sent pain through them and into her pussy. She hissed, but he tugged on the chain that connected the clamps as though her discomfort made things better for him.

Next, he shoved a small vibe into her panties, and nestled it against her clit.

“Don’t you dare fucking come.”

Shit. How was she going to manage that with the vibe there and his words echoing in her head?

He smacked her ass, where she was sure there were already handprints, and she could feel her brain melting and leaking out her ears. The vibe buzzed away, and she bit her lip, trying to distract herself from the fact that he was alternating between spanking her and jamming the vibe against her sensitive bud.

Her breathing was loud in her ears, and she trembled, trying hard to stay in control. “I’m going to come, Sir. I can’t stop.”

“If you come, I’m going to hurt you.”

“Bad?”

“Bad.”

Fuck, like that threat was going to help?

“Sir, may I come?” She was panting, straining to control her impending orgasm. Why did Doms think she could wait?

“No.” His mouth growled next to her ear, and her body took that as a cue to shudder violently. “Are you going to be a bad girl?”

“Very bad,” she whimpered.

He pulled the vibe out of her panties and shut it off.

“Fuck.”

He chuckled, but Everly didn’t think he was very funny right then. “I don’t understand why you’re upset. I’m being helpful.”

Screw this. She pulled one of her hands from the wall and pressed her fingers between her legs. Two seconds and . . .

Ambrose yanked her hand away from her pussy. Then stood her upright and spun her around. “Hold your hands out like this.” He showed her to leave them out, palms up.

“What? Why?”

He stripped off his shirt and she almost drooled on herself. Next, he unbuckled his belt and pulled it from the loops. Aw, shit.

“No touching yourself without my permission.” He gave both of her palms two belt strokes.

Fuck, that smarted! And turned her on. It hardly seemed fair, since she hadn’t used her left hand to touch herself.

“Do you understand me, young lady?”

“Yes, Sir.”

Without warning, he grabbed the nipple clamp chain and yanked. The clamps popped off simultaneously, and she screeched.

“Are you sorry now?”

She sniffled. “Yes, Sir.”

He tilted his chin up and gazed down at her sternly, reminding her of a teacher chastising his pupil.

“If that’s what I get for sassing you, I’d hate to see what I’d get if I was late for class.”

“Late for class?”

“Well, yes. I’ve never seen someone get their hands strapped except in schoolgirl fetish porn.”

“Shh . . . it’s too soon for you to know my secrets.” His mouth twisted in amusement and self-deprecation.