How to Punish Your Playboy (DommeNation #3) (14 page)

“How thoughtful,” I said, sipping the red he’d put out with herb-crusted goat cheese and crackers. “I know I like wine, but I don’t know wine the way you do. How do you pick?”

He nodded. “Good question. A lot of the time you’ll see white wines with chicken and fish and reds with steak and pork, but not always. It really depends. If you’re eating something rich, oftentimes you want a light, tangy wine to cut through it. Other times, you’ll want something mellow that tastes rich in a different kind of way. It’s a science, but it’s also sort of mystical. There are flavors that come out when a wine is paired with the right food. When that happens, it’s magic.” He uncorked the Sauvignon Blanc and decanted some of it into a wineglass. “So, to really start learning wines, you should take notice of a few things. Swirl your glass. See if the wine coats it. Sniff the wine—what does it remind you of? Some wines have some absolutely crazy descriptors, like black Magic Marker or leather, but that’s okay. It helps you get a handle on how to think of pairing it. Then, once it’s in your mouth, try to taste it with many different parts of your tongue and taste buds. Once you swallow, think about it. Wine is a meditative kind of thing if you let it be. That’s part of why it’s so relaxing.”

I shrugged. “But don’t you think it’s kind of stressful, having to think that much about a drink?”

“Honestly, people should drink wine they like. If you want to know more, however, those are the things I’d point to if you want to get good at pairings or tasting where a wine is from. Remember, eating is a sensual experience. Why not go slow and think about everything you’re thinking, feeling, tasting?” A slow smile crept up the side of his cheek, and I felt my own face flush. His hazel eyes slid over me, and goose bumps ran up and down my chest as though his gaze were his touch. I loved how his muscular chest and arms looked with that apron on, so stark white against his sun-bronzed skin. This was so erotic—a half-naked chef detailing a slow, sensory experience was enough to make me hunger for much more than dinner. In fact, I’d rather go straight to dessert. Maybe I could incorporate Sarah’s lesson tonight. That girl had impeccable timing.

“Come here, let me please your palate,” he said, finally plating the dishes. He’d just grated a ton of pecorino cheese into the risotto, and when he put it on the plate it flowed like lava. Then, he slid four round slices of pork loin across it, spooning the caramelized peaches and onions on top. I sat down and ogled the plate. “This looks incredible,” I breathed, so intoxicated by the night. His attention to detail, the way he wanted me to savor everything, was giving me the naughtiest ideas.

Aston picked up his fork and was about to dig in, but I stopped him. “Put the fork down and put your hands behind your back,” I said, a plan quickly forming.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said. His muscled chest heaved, but I could see a desire in his eyes that was both for me and for the food. I was denying him what he wanted—the delicious dinner he’d just cooked.

“I’m going to feed you, Aston, but only if you’re very good.”

He nodded.

I stood and grabbed the thick fabric belt that kept my retro wrap dress closed. I walked over to Aston and tied it around his eyes. “Can you see?”

“A little through the bottom,” he confessed.

“Good boy,” I said, tightening.

“Better.”

I pulled a USB cord out of the wall and used it to tie his hands behind his back.

“Are you hungry, Aston?” I asked, breath tickling his ear.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said, voice low and tight.

I pulled my plate to the other side of the table, sat on his lap, and began to cut into the perfectly seared pork. I made sure I had a little peach, a little onion, and some of the risotto, then put it in my mouth and chewed.

I moaned. “Oh god, Aston. It’s so yummy.” He squirmed beneath me, hardening under my thighs. “I could eat it all night.”

His head fell back and I nibbled at his neck. “Sounds like something I’d like,” he mumbled under his breath.

“Are you being cheeky?” I asked, filling my mouth again. “Because I’ll eat both our plates if you’re fresh.” Which was totally bluffing, by the way. I planned on eating a small portion, especially since I didn’t get around to those wall squats.

He shook his head. “No, Mistress, but I confess your wording was making me think about something else.”

I cut a piece for him. “Open wide,” I said suggestively. I waited a minute, torturing him. Was I going to feed him or slide a wet finger in his mouth. I placed the forkful on his tongue and his soft lips closed around it. A satisfied moan came from his throat and I pulled the fork away. He licked his mouth, getting a few more tastes of his creation.

“You’re a talented cook, Aston,” I said, taking another bite for myself. “You’re clearly a pro at . . . loins.” I burst out laughing at the line—there was only so far you could take dirty food talk without chuckling.

Aston chuckled too. “What can I say, I love the other white meat.”

“Do you now?” I asked, tapping my chin. “Maybe you’ll get a little more than you bargained for. Open up again.” This time, I unhooked my front-close satin bra. Spinning around in his lap, I brought my nipple to his open mouth. Once Aston felt my silky skin instead of a hard fork, he closed his lips around my breast and sucked hard.

“This tastes much better,” he said, tonguing my areola. I groaned as I ground into his lap, moistening his boxer briefs with my arousal.

“Fuck, Aston,” I said as he gently bit at my nipple. I pulled away, needing to come but wanting to exercise my power over him. I sat back, took a few more bites myself, and watched him. His chest and neck were coated in the light sheen of sweat he’d produced while slaving over the hot oven. Aston’s Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, synched with his heaving breaths. His erection, trapped by his tight boxer briefs, twitched in anticipation of me.

“I’ll let you eat if you answer some questions,” I purred.

He nodded. “Ask me anything.”

“When was the last time you touched yourself?” I asked, fork hovering right under his nose.

Aston inhaled deeply. “In the shower,” he breathed.

I slapped his leg. “And you didn’t invite me in?”

He swallowed hard. “I didn’t want to overstep my bounds.”

I placed the bite in his mouth. “Good boy for being so obedient, but next time you want to get off in the shower, do me a favor and call out to me.”

He nodded.

“What did you think about?” I asked, bringing a forkful of peach to his mouth and letting the warm, soft texture graze his lips.

He licked the juice off and I watched his chest flex as his breath sped up. “I pictured you in a black vinyl bikini, Mistress.”

My eyebrows lifted. “Go on.”

He swallowed hard. “You had spiky heels, and your hair was pulled back tight in a ponytail. You . . .” he trailed off. “You put a dog collar around my neck.”

This time my breath caught at the image, and I felt myself get even more wet. “Is that what made you come all over the tiles, Dirty Playboy?” I placed the forkful of peach in his mouth and watched him chew as I put my hand on his boxers.

“Yes, Mistress,” he said.

I pumped his shaft in response and he panted.

“Mistress,” he said after a moment of writhing in my grasp. “Would you mind terribly taking the desserts out of the oven?” His voice was strained. “I don’t want my gift to you to burn.”

“Sure, but only because you asked so nicely,” I said, removing myself from his lap and walking over to the oven. “And because, it’s chocolate.”

“As much as I want to just enjoy you and the dinner, soufflés are tricky and can be ruined in a million ways,” he apologized.

I pulled the puffy brown treats from the watery tray he had situated inside the hot oven. Carefully taking each ramekin with oven mitts, I placed them on plates he’d set up with small dessert spoons.

“Are these ready now?” I asked.

He nodded. “They’re best hot out of the oven.”

With great care, I walked back to our little spot at the table and placed the two chocolate soufflés on it. Straddling Aston again, I rubbed his crotch with my hand and kissed him hard.

“Miss me?” I asked, gasping for air.

He nodded, and I wound my fingers in his hair and pulled him closer to me. Another long minute passed with the caressing of tongues and the pressing together of flesh, but the scent of chocolate overwhelmed me.

“Want a taste?” I asked, bringing the soufflé under his nose and letting him inhale.

“You first, Mistress,” he said. “I wish I could use my hands and feed it to you myself.”

“Open,” I said instead, and placed a warm mouthful on his tongue. “But don’t swallow.”

His throat twitched in protest, and I brought my hungry lips to his and began to lick the chocolate out of his hot mouth. Like a good boy, he kept still as I ate the dessert from him, and didn’t even complain when I spooned in another heap and went after it myself.

“You may swallow,” I said, after pulling my tongue from his mouth. He closed his lips and I watched him finally taste the dessert.

“That was the most delicious torture,” he sighed. “I never thought waiting for something would make it taste better.”

I slid both hands into his boxers, gripping his length and giving it a slow tug. “Does that mean you don’t want to fuck me right now?” I asked, scooting closer.

He panted and licked a stray dab of chocolate off his lips. “I want what you want.”

The last spoonful of soufflé dribbled down his long cock.

“I want to eat some more.”

And we were on the road once more. Last night ended up being another night in—we got too wrapped up in each other to leave the suite to check out the city’s nightlife. Fine by me. And definitely fine by Aston.

I hadn’t reciprocated his confession of love. He only said it that once, and the opportunity hadn’t come up yet. I was certainly infatuated with him, no doubt, but I think we had a lot more to learn about each other until I could call it love. I mean, he gave me feelings of more than just lust, and he made me finally feel good about myself since Derek, but love?

I wasn’t sure.

We were certainly happy as we drove some more through the plains and farms of America. It was a wholesome scene—a retro car, a retro chick, a handsome guy, and some great tunes. Nobody had to know that I was a sexual dominant and that Aston liked getting spanked.

“Looks like our phones work again,” Aston quipped as my phone vibrated five times.

“Must be more messages from Sarah,” I groaned. “She’s got a new sub and was texting me about him all last night.”

I glanced down at the display and felt the blood drain from my face. Five texts from an unknown number. My hand hesitated a moment before I opened the messages. Throat dry and eyes stinging, the second I began to read them I knew it wasn’t good.

The first message was sent yesterday at five
PM
.

I’ve given you every opportunity to make this right. You have avoided those safe routes and now it’s time to pay. I know you’re going to the pinup contest in Vegas—I was the one who sent in your pictures. Look at the thanks I get. I’ll see you in Vegas with my lawyer in tow.

Another message marked ten minutes later.

I know your phone is still working because it’s how my lawyer called you so don’t ignore these messages, you greedy bitch.

An hour later.

Are you fucking kidding me? I looked into the guy who bought OUR car, and it’s the same one you’ve been slutting it up with? I’m pretty sure this is fraud, you cunt.

Midnight.

This guy’s facebook has pictures with him and every whore in Providence. Real nice. Can’t wait to take money from both you assholes.

The last one was a selfie. It was Derek giving the finger in front of the Bellagio. He was already in Vegas.

I squeezed my eyes shut, as if that would stem the tide of tears that was about to explode from them. I dropped my phone into the cup holder and silently prayed Aston wouldn’t see my trembling hands.
Breathe in, breathe out. Don’t panic.

But how could I not? Not only was he talking about more money than I had, but add to it the lawyer fees and then throw in fraud? Did that mean jail time? At the thought, a sob escaped my throat and I hushed myself with my own hand.

“Veronika?” Aston asked, glancing over at me from the driver’s seat. He lowered his glasses and his darkly fringed eyes met mine, which were brimming with tears. I couldn’t hide it any more.

Before I could respond, Aston had put on the blinker. We were still among the fields, but in the distance I could faintly make out mountains. I had no idea how close we were to Denver, but I knew where I was—on the verge of a breakdown. The car stopped and I began to bawl, head in my hands, messing up my eyeliner and dripping blackened tears all over my white capris. Damn you, Derek.

Aston rubbed slow circles across my back, letting me get the tears out before I had to explain. My chest shuddered and I gasped for breath. I hadn’t cried this hard in years. Things were finally coming together for me, why did Derek have to pull this now? Aston opened Johnny’s glove box and pulled out a tissue, gently handing it to me.

“What’s going on?” he asked after I’d finished mopping up my face.

I looked at him, being all protective and concerned, and retreated into myself. I didn’t deserve his sympathy. “I don’t want to talk about it,” I said.

He shook his head. “If it’s enough to drive the boldest woman I know to tears, it’s enough to vent about. Go ahead, I’m listening.”

“Mistress does not want to discuss the matter,” I snapped, trying to play the Domme card.

Aston’s mouth closed and pressed into a hard line. “Not today. And no corn field punishment either.”

My eyes widened. “Excuse me?”

He shrugged. “You know you’ve got me under your thumb. I’d do anything for you. But you’re suffering right now, so let me do for you what you’ve done for me—listen. Vent. Just get it all out, verbally this time. Something’s clearly still wrong, despite my efforts to otherwise occupy your mind. If you talk about it and still need to get some release, you can hurt me again.”

Fear crept into me. This was serious. If I wouldn’t talk to him, he’d want to be punished for pushing me to disclose. I was the one in pain, and he wanted to take it through submission. He was in too deep now. This thing with Derek was going to destroy the strange new relationship we’d discovered.

“Things won’t be the same,” I said. “You may not want me as your Mistress. Hell, you may drop me by the side of the road.”

Aston turned the idling motor off. “I can take it. What’s going on?”

I breathed in and out, slowly. I could only prolong this pain so much, I realized. Once we got to Vegas I’d have to confess anyway. May as well do it now, like ripping off a Band-Aid. Worse comes to worst I’ll just have him drop me at a bus station and I could get to Vegas on my own.

Aston’s hand clutched mine. “I may be in some legal trouble,” I confessed.

“Okay, nothing new to me,” he joked. “What’s up?”

I dabbed my eyes and straightened. If I was going to do this, I’d do it with dignity. A Domme’s grace. “Johnny,” I said, rubbing the car’s smooth leather interior. “I fixed Johnny up from scrap as a partnership with my ex, Derek. He’s claiming he’s owed half of what you paid for it.”

Aston looked thoughtful. “I can see where he’d think that. Was he part owner? Was he on the title or insurance?”

I shook my head. “My name was on everything.”

“So, wouldn’t that mean he’s not owed?”

I swallowed. “I don’t know the law. He put in labor and parts. I didn’t pay him specifically to work on it, and we lived together and owned a bunch of things together.”

Aston’s eyes darkened, whether with jealousy or anger I couldn’t tell. “So did he subpoena you? How’d you find out?”

I breathed in deep. “His lawyer contacted me a couple of days ago, telling me I had to go back to Rhode Island.”

“I see.”

I clutched the tissue in my hand, I tried to focus and not lose control. “And now I’ve found out that he knows we’re going to Vegas. He and his lawyer will be there,” I said, swallowing hard. “And he says that since you and I are together, this could be a case of fraud. I sell the car to the guy I’m dating to get it off my hands and out of Derek’s way, you know?” The sobs were creeping their way back up my throat. “I’m sorry. I had no idea this would happen.”

Aston looked away from me, gripping the wheel even though the car was off and parked. “This would be easier if I was still talking to my family,” he said with a harsh laugh. “I could just give you the money to cover whatever his share was and that would be the end of it. But I only have enough in my checking account to get us to Vegas and stay there for a few weeks. Not enough to pay this asshole off.”

I shook my head. “You don’t have to pay him off. You don’t have to bail me out. I’m just telling you because unfortunately you’re involved. I wish I could just give Derek what he’s owed, but I donated most of it,” I said, throat closing. “I could sell the garage, I suppose.” The thought of losing my business caused me to crumple back into tears.

Aston took hold of my chin and lifted it. “It’s a good thing we’re going to Denver,” he said, eyes unreadable. “A good friend of mine who’s a lawyer lives there. We can get some advice before moving on. Sound okay?”

I nodded. “I could use some advice,” I confessed, embarrassed but feeling a lot more hopeful.

Aston smiled nervously. “Let me shoot out a text and make sure we can swing by,” he said, typing quickly into his phone. Apparently there were a few exchanges, and after a few minutes he looked back up at me. “All set. Um, just so you know, my lawyer friend and I have a past.”

I chuckled. “He get you off on some charges back in Rhode Island? I don’t care about your past. Whatever you did, it’s okay.”

Aston nodded. “Good,” he sighed. “Cause she’s my ex.”