Ditching The Dream (Dream Series) (28 page)

“Why? Why did you enjoy it?” I pushed. Dropping my eyes, I added, “Why did I like it?”

“There’s a fine line between pain and pleasure. And pleasure is enhanced by a degree of pain. Like salt making sweet things sweeter.” I was suddenly taken back to Kevin’s pre-cum mixing with the chocolate.

Jack continued with a strained voice. I’d hit a nerve. Not sure what nerve that was. Was he embarrassed? Or turned on?

“There’s also something to be said for being corrected,” he continued. “When I let you know in no uncertain terms that you’d crossed a line, you feel secure that there was no ambiguity in my position. And the spanking isn’t to injure, just to correct. Typically, I never discuss the transgression after discipline has been given. The only reason I’m even talking about this is because you asked. Do you understand?”

I nodded. It was sort of true. I knew exactly where he stood on that event. And I wasn’t exactly hurt. And definitely the sting and heat of the spankings amplified my pleasure afterward.

“So, your closet in your bedroom…” I continued.

He bristled slightly, regarding me carefully. “It’s not my bedroom.”

I considered him blankly.
Not his room? That doesn’t make any sense.

“The bedroom. It’s not mine. Mine is down the hall, on the other side of the guest room. No one goes in there. Only me.”

Oh.
I had been sure it was his bedroom, but come to think about it, I didn’t recall him ever dressing in there. I continued to scrutinize him, wanting to understand the secret paneled closet in whatever bedroom that was.

“So, the closet…” I pressed.

“I’d love to show you. Your body was made for sex, Beth, and I have no doubt your body would sing like a Stradivarius under my hand.”

Oh god! Yes! Please!

He rose and extended a hand. Trembling with part fear, and part excitement, I let him help me stand. He gently ushered us to the foyer.

Together we climbed the stairs in silence, but our bodies said everything. His confidence, urging me forward. The way he dominated all of our interactions left no room for any doubts I might have had. That said, my pace wasn’t hesitant, in fact I was nearly running.

Standing in front of the door, he opened it and stood back. “Please, after you,” he said, his voice hoarse with growing need.

I stepped in, but the room suddenly felt very different from the one I was in only a short time ago.

Jack silently walked in behind me and sat on the oversized armchair. The room crackled with anticipatory tension. Suddenly a cluster of butterflies took up residence in my stomach. I had never been prone to that sensation and I really didn’t know what to do with it. I was a confident woman.

I felt my hands grow a tad clammy and my nipples tighten under the bathrobe, which initially felt very plush and cuddly. But now the fibers of that robe rubbed against my skin, waking my breasts with a fiery urge. I regarded Jack’s eyes. They were not the eyes I saw when the women flirted with him at the restaurant. Those eyes had a hint of humor and yet were empty at the same time. These eyes were hungry, hooded, and lustful. I saw him struggle to keep his breathing even.

“I’ll be honest,” he started, his voice strained. “I’m what’s known as a Dominant. Do you know what that is?”

I nodded. I’d read enough books in my book club. But those men wore faded, torn jeans and were barefoot and shirtless, as if it were some Dom uniform. Jack sat there in his designer suit and high-end leather, shoes making no move to change his clothes.

“It’s often said that ‘A Dom wants to be needed and that a sub needs to be wanted.’ ”

I sucked in my lower lip and bit down on it lightly. I do need to be wanted. Jack makes me feel wanted. My heart warmed at that thought.

“I want you. Without question. I want you so fucking bad. I want you in any way I can have you… in any way that you are willing to share yourself with me,” he confessed. “Do you need me?” he asked, his voice cracking just a tad.

And I realized that I did. I needed him. I needed him so desperately that it almost hurt. At his side, I felt important and respected. The time I had spent with him was repairing a part of my soul that I hadn’t known was incomplete.

“That was a question, Beth. Answer the question…please.” I could hear in his voice and see in his eyes that my answer would make or break him.

“Yes, Jack. I need you.”

“You should also know that I don’t like to share. I want to know that you are mine. That neighbor…please end it,” his voice constricted. And then it hit me. He was jealous!

“I’ll think about it,” I replied quietly.

“Please, Beth. Think carefully.” I watched as he let out a slow controlled breath. His eyes imploring as he searched mine, looking for the inch so he could take the mile.

“Lose the robe,” he whispered.

Staring solidly at him, my fingers went to work on the belt of the bathrobe. In watching his reaction, I felt beautiful. I felt prized. I felt wanted.

I let the robe flutter to the ground, then gently I pushed it to the side with my foot.

I brought my arms around my midsection and stood there — more bare than naked, his eyes slowly taking in every inch. The silence of the room was thick with our breaths and I was certain that the pounding of my heart could be heard.

He stood, discretely adjusting his pants, and walked up to me. Slowly, he started to circle and stood behind me. I listened to him. I felt him, his eyes, his breath. At my back, he slowly dragged a finger from the nape of my neck all the way down my spine. It felt like a match dragging on a striker of a matchbox, sparking and flaming on its path. My skin felt positively alive. I silently begged him to touch me again.

“If I had my way, you’d never wear clothes in my home,” he breathed into my ear. For a moment I wondered what that would be like. Walking around every day without a scrap of clothing on. No mistake, I was aroused. I pressed my thighs together to ease some of the growing need.

“Arms down, please,” he growled. I wondered what he thought. I lowered my arms as he ordered. He looked at unbelievably perfect women every day. Models and supermodels. What was he thinking as he looked at my forty-three year old body, complete with stretch marks from three pregnancies?

He returned to standing in front of me his breath noticeably altered. “You want to cover yourself. Why?”

I stared at him, not knowing what to say. It was true. I didn’t think much of my body. I didn’t think my body was hideous, but, again, not like the bodies Jack worked with every day.

He took both of his hands and drew them down my arms until he reached my wrists. I was stunned that he was trembling slightly. I felt it in his hands. I heard it in his breath. He raised my hands above my head, crossing my wrists. “Leave them there,” he commanded.

I did, feeling oddly more vulnerable and sexy at the same time. He started to walk away, and I turned my head to where he was walking.

“Eyes forward,” he commanded without looking back, but not before I saw where he was headed.

Snap – Pop!
The secret closet. Anticipation gripped me. I closed my eyes tightly, my mind awash with possibilities. My skin grew taught. I couldn’t hear anything as my heart pounded mercilessly in my chest and blood rushed through my ears. My nipples started to pebble.

“Very good,” he said. “Open your eyes.”

He was in front of me again. I opened my eyes and caught my breath. Somewhere along the way, he’d lost his red tie and shirt. Satin sashes were now draped over his sculpted shoulder. “You’re naturally submissive, aren’t you?” he asked quietly.

I licked my lips, thinking this through. I guess I was. I always did as I was told. I was a people pleaser. I swallowed and nodded.

“I cannot hear you, Beth. Please answer me when I ask you a question. I love the sound of your voice. I asked if you were a natural submissive.”

“I – I think so,” I stammered. “Yes,” I replied.

Smiling, he walked behind me, carefully taking my wrists that I still held above my head. He lowered them to my back, the cool satin covering my wrist as he tied them together.

I imagined what he was doing behind me. I could make out that he had tied the sash into a nice bow, like he was turning me into a present. The thought made me smile.

“Is that too tight?” he asked.

I wiggled my fingers and twisted my wrists slightly. There was enough room that I was comfortable, yet I was still securely bound. I nodded my head in response to his question.

Whack!
His hand came down on my rear. It stung, but it wasn’t too harsh.

Ah, a ‘good spanking,’
I thought. Yes, much different than a punishment spanking.

“Please answer the question. I need to hear your voice, Beth.” His hand smoothed the spot he had just landed the swat to.

“It’s perfect,” I breathed, enjoying the warmth of the sting as it spread through my core.

“You look divine,” he said, his voice cracking just a bit with lust, yet still powerful.

His nose nuzzled on the nape of my neck. “You smell incredible.” His hot breath almost caused my legs to collapse.

His hand slipped between my legs and slowly glided upward. When he reached my junction, we both gasped. “Are you aroused, Beth?” he asked wriggling his finger through my slick folds.

I almost nodded, drunk on sensations, but through the fog in my mind I remembered that he wanted to hear my voice. “I am,” I said around the lump in my throat.

“Do you trust me?” he continued.

“I do.”

His lips brushed my ear. “Are you afraid?” His body pressed against my back.

“A little,” I confessed.

“Why?” he asked.

“I’m not used to this. I don’t know what to expect. Shouldn’t we have a safe-word, or something?”

“We can do that. What would you like your safe-word to be?”

I had to choose it? I searched my mind. I could choose our hometown name. That would be interesting. Or one of the products he’s modeled for. But I didn’t want to spoil the mood. He still believed I didn’t know who he was.

“I’m waiting.” He moved to stand in front of me. “And your word can’t be ‘God,’ ‘Shit,’ or ‘Fuck.’ I’m going to do things to you that will have you screaming all sorts of crazy.” He brought a glistening finger to his mouth and sucked on it.

I started to tremble. I needed this to move along. The anticipation was unbearable.

“How about ‘apple’?” he suggested. “Like the apple Eve fed Adam causing them to be tossed out of the Garden of Eden.”

I sighed. “Apple is good.”

Standing in front of me, he pulled something from behind his back. It was a braided handle with a cluster of long, red and black, suede strips hanging from it.

“This is a flogger,” he said, laying it between my breasts and dragging the soft strips upward over my shoulder and along my neck. The smooth texture hugged my skin. “This is a small, soft one. It won’t hurt; rather, it will warm your skin. Would you like to feel it?”

I could barely breathe. I reminded myself of the safe-word in my head, then whispered, “Yes, please.”

Gently he positioned my hands up a little to make my back more accessible. Then nothing. The anticipation was bubbling up inside of me. My breathing was erratic. Suddenly, I felt the strips of suede come down between my shoulder blades. He was right, very minimal stinging.

“Is that okay?” he asked, his voice straining with care.

“Yes.”

He flicked the flogger again between my shoulder blades, this time not stopping. He didn’t bring the suede down on me with tremendous force. It was just like he said; it would warm my skin. My body started to hum.

He stopped, yet my body kept buzzing, sending the tingling sensation to my lower back. I took a few measured breaths, then the flogger came across my ass. On the right, then on the left. Again and again. Only a light sting left in its path that mellowed to a delicious erotic glow under my skin.

I pressed my ass further out, anticipating each stroke, willing the suede strands to hit between my bare ass and legs. Pleading for a tap to my folds, to release some of the built up tension that was in full bloom. An electricity was building that couldn’t be contained. I felt jolts of pleasure come from the light stinging.

As I had hoped, the strands started to drop lower and Jack expertly let them softly tap between my legs. I felt an orgasm grow in my core that was crying out for release. I heard a soft moan and was surprised to realize it was me.

“Please,” I whined.

The flogger slowed but didn’t stop.

“Please isn’t the safe-word. Do you need to use the safe-word?” Jack asked, his voice deep and seductive, almost undoing me.

“No, please don’t stop. I need to…”

“You need what, Beth?” he asked, the flogger’s force growing.

“I need to come,” I breathed. I couldn’t believe I’d used that word. I sounded like someone else.

Jack stepped up behind my left side. Dropping the flogger to the floor, his right hand came up and soothed my behind. When that hand dropped to between my legs, a finger brushing over my folds and reaching my clit, his other hand came forward and reached across my body. He took hold of my right breast, rolling my straining nipple between his fingers. I dropped my head back, and my knees gave out as I stood atop the precipice of the orgasm that had been coiling. When he plunged two fingers into me, I took in such a large gasp of air I felt my lungs might explode. As I collapsed, Jack caught me with his strong arms.