TAMED: #2 in the Fit Trilogy (6 page)

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Authors: Rebekah Weatherspoon

Tags: #Literature & Fiction, #Contemporary, #Multicultural, #Multicultural & Interracial, #Romance, #Erotica, #erotic romance, #spanking, #flogging, #TAMED, #FIT, #FIT TRILOGY, #Egyptian Heroine, #Latian American Hero, #Interracial Romance, #Bdsm, #Sadomasochism

BOOK: TAMED: #2 in the Fit Trilogy
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There was more kissing before Armando freed his cock from his pants.

She didn’t know how he would manage it, but he did spank her while she sucked him deep, his thick cock lightly nudging the back of her tongue as he warmed her up. He gripped her hair to keep her close and, with his other hand, he slapped one ass cheek and then the other, harder and harder with each stroke.

Nailah rolled over in bed, her thighs rubbing restlessly together. She thought about the way she’d squirmed, how tightly she’d squeezed her eyes shut. She’d struggled to breathe through her nose, but she didn’t want him to stop. Even as the drool started running down her chin, she never wanted it to end.

The sound of his voice only made things worse. He talked so dirty, so hot, telling her how good she felt, how pretty her ass looked in the air. He cursed a lot and Nailah liked it.

She’d stopped thinking, stopped worrying about what would come next. Nailah simply let herself feel, let herself be used for Armando’s pleasure.

But before Nailah realized what was happening, Armando scooped her up and positioned her on the couch on her knees. It was his turn to hit the floor. He squatted behind her, buried his tongue in her pussy then fingered her as he continued to pepper her ass with harsh slaps.

“Hope you’re hungry.”

Nailah rolled toward the door to find Armando, still very naked, standing in the doorway with a tray of food. It was still hard to look at him. She was coming to terms with his face, but she needed more time to wrap her mind around his body. Kalli had the stupidest tattoos. Nailah almost always asked him to fuck her from behind so she didn’t have to look at them. And he didn’t seem to have his shaving/waxing routine in order. Sometimes his chest felt over-lotioned and prickly. She even told him once to leave his shirt on because she didn’t want stubble burn on the palms of her hands.

Armando’s body was a work of art. Light brown skin, thick dark hair in all the right places, that goatee. His dick wasn’t half bad either. It was soft now, but Nailah would never forget how well he used it. Maybe she should stop staring.

Nailah sat up and took the breakfast tray from him so he could join her back in bed. Her ass burned as she slid up the sheets. She didn’t do much to hide her wincing.

“Still a little sore?” he asked.

“Yeah. A little.”

“Here.” Armando took the tray back and placed it on the bedside table. Then he pulled back the sheets. “Lie on your stomach. Please.”

“Since you said please.” Nailah rolled onto her stomach. Her eyes closed automatically when his fingers brushed over her skin.

“No bruising, but it’s still a pretty red. You have a high tolerance for pain.”

“You think?” She’d never been much of a crybaby, but she’d never really hurt herself either.

“Yeah. I did
not
take it easy on you, but you didn’t come close to your safe word.”

“It hurt, but it didn’t. So many other things were happening it was impossible to think of you spanking me in terms of pain. Not with your tongue inside me.”

“Pleasant distractions help. You want to see?”

“See what?”

“Your ass.” He stroked her skin again as he said the words. Nailah’s eyes closed again, just for a moment.

“Yeah. Why not?”

Armando reached for his phone. Nailah turned her head while he snapped a couple pictures, then he handed her the phone. Her ass was pretty red. She wasn’t entirely sure it wouldn’t bruise, but she didn’t really mind. She was ready for more.

She moved her thumb to the left and looked at the two other pictures he’d taken. One closer up, of just her ass. There was another from farther away, capturing nearly her whole body. Her hair was splayed out across the pillow.

“I’ll delete them.”

Nailah shrugged and handed the phone back. “You don’t have to.”

“You sure?”

“You can’t see my face. It’s fine. You can post it on kinklife if you want.”

“Oh really?”

“Like I said, you can’t see my face. Now about that breakfast.”

“Oh, sorry. Here you are, your highness.”

Nailah took a few bites of the delicious egg scramble heaped together with hot peppers, onions, potatoes, and cheese. She held out a forkful for Armando to keep him busy while he stared at her. She followed that with a bite of the waffle.

“Have any plans for the day?” she asked.

“My buddy Grant and I are having dinner with my dads and my sisters.”

“You said ‘dads’ right? As in more than one?” Nailah asked. She thought of the two men from the Facebook picture who shared his last name, the two kissing his cheeks.

Instantly, Armando’s whole demeanor changed and he went on the defensive. “Yeah. My dad and his husband. Is that a problem?”

“No, no. I–when I was being a nosey asshole, I think I saw a picture of them online. I was just wondering if they were the same people. Don’t worry. I am all for gay dads. I love me some gay dads.”

That seemed to mellow him out. “Oh, yeah. Those are my dads. I try to do dinner with them a few times a month.”

“I have dinner with my family all the time. My little cousins are staying with us for the summer, so it feels like the family time has doubled.”

“Hey, family’s important to me too, but let’s get through the first meal of the day.”

“And then?”

“I’m fucking you again. Now eat.”

Nailah ate, doing her best not to actually shove handfuls of food in her mouth. Then, after Armando slid on some protection, she rode his cock until she couldn’t see straight. His grip on her ass left marks this time. She let him take pictures of those too.


Armando was hiding in the kitchen, washing the dinner dishes. That’s where Grant found him.

“Still recovering from that probing?” his buddy asked with a chuckle.

“Ha, yeah. I should recover in a few days. I’m gonna kill Keira. I never should have let her tell Connie.”

“Is it so bad, man? They just care about you.” Grant was right and their Q&A didn’t last too long, but he’d gotten grilled, for sure.
What’s her name again? What does she do? Where does she live? Are her parents here in LA? Do you think it’s a good idea for you to train someone you’re dating? Are you two even dating or are you just sleeping with her? Or are you two just tying each other up?
That was his personal favorite from Connie. His whole family had a good laugh about that one.

It didn’t bother Armando that his family had an idea of his kinks. His dad had met Mark in a leather bar when he first started dating again, so he knew they were up to some freaky shit. And thanks to the lovely tag feature on Facebook, his sisters had found out years before that he’d frequented some bondage events. They didn’t care, but they loved giving him a hard time about it. Usually, with his family, he didn’t mind the inquisition, but something felt different this time.

It was Nailah. She was different and it was clear as hell to Armando that he was playing on a different field. For the life of him, he could not figure out how to answer simple questions about her or whatever relationship they had. How could he be the proactive, albeit temporary Dom she needed when didn’t understand whether he, himself was coming or going?

“What’s going on?” Grant asked.

“I’m just thinking about Nailah.”

“Miss Shalaby getting under your skin?”

“She asked me to guide her in, ya know. And we’ve only been together once, but something’s bugging me.”

“What?”

“In the moment, she was there, like all there. She totally gave herself up. Grant, man, I was rough. It was what she said she wanted, but I was rough.”

“And she loved it? Hated it? What?”

“She loved it. She embraced it. And I think I have a pretty good grip on what she needs going forward.”

“That all sounds good. What’s the problem?”

“I keep thinking about the future. I also keep thinking about how to be right for her. I know what I told my sisters. I know what I told Keira, but I don’t even know if I like her or if I’m just drawn to what she’s letting me provide for her.”

Grant grabbed a dish towel and started drying. “You sound pretty fucking confused.”

“Damn right, I’m confused.” Armando’s laugh was a hair north of hysterical. “One minute it feels like it did with the rest. Catch and release. Catch and release.”

“You’ve been fucking a lot of fish.”

“Yeah, tons. I should have gills by now. She’s making me want to try dry land for a while though.”

“I have no idea what the fuck you’re talking about,” Grant said.

“I don’t know what I want. I don’t know what she wants.”

“Did you try asking her?”

“I’ve asked her about, ya know...this stuff, but I haven’t asked her about us.”

“’Cause it’s been two days.”

“Pretty much.”

“Well. You’re fucked,” Grant said, giving Armando a hard pat on the shoulder.

“Pretty much. I just can’t tell if I need to be prepared to hold on to her. Like, I need to play this whole thing with every intention of it going the distance or if I just need to give her what I can and let her go.”

“You wanna know what Violet would say?”

“Fuck no, I don’t.” Armando laughed, but he was serious.

“What? Violet knows a lot about women.”

“I’m sure she does.”

“Violet would say—”

“Christ, you’re gonna tell me anyway.”

“Violet would say you should talk to her. You can’t make plans for a future with someone when they have no clue about the plans.”

“I’m not in a plan-sharing mood.”

“Then keep sulking like a little bitch. I’m sure that’ll work out fine. You coming to Philip’s on Saturday? He’s having that party. Vi and I are going.”

“We probably should. I should probably show her that side of things.”

“Why not? She can newbie it up with Violet. I’m sure they’ll both be into that.”

“Grant! You said you brought ice cream!” Maria yelled from the living room.

“One sec! Stop yelling!” Grant tossed down the dish towel and headed for the freezer. “You good here?”

“Grant! Now!” Connie added, and then there was a fit of giggles and his dad’s booming laughter.

“Do you want bowls and spoons? Or you wanna eat this with your hands?” Grant called back.

“You need a hand?” Armando asked. He was trying not to laugh himself.

“Nah, I live for this abuse.”

CHAPTER FIVE

The party was fine. Perfectly fine. They arrived fashionably late. Nailah got to formally meet Armando’s best friend and business partner, Grant. She got to meet Grant’s girlfriend, Violet, who was perfectly cool and almost as clueless as Nailah, so they had plenty to talk about.

She also met the infamous Master Philip, director of the medical center where her father did his pro-bono work. She had seen him before, years ago at a holiday party, but they’d never been introduced. He welcomed her with sweet warmth that reminded her of her grandfather, though Master Philip was much younger than the ancient man. He also assured her that her father would never know they had met, officially, and under what circumstances. He then went on at length about how wonderful Armando was and how she was in such wonderful hands.

Blah, blah, what the fuck ever. Armando could shove his wonderfully skilled hands right up his own ass. After he introduced her around–there was still Master Philip’s wife Evelyn to meet and then some girl named Meegan who was available to fetch Nailah whatever she wanted to drink–Armando took off.

Sure, he told her not to be shy, but to ask politely before she engaged anyone. There were instructions not to interrupt any play or to let any Dom assume ownership over her for the evening before working out a little scene negotiation. He told her there would be a series of floor demonstrations starting in a few moments and then he fucking disappeared. He didn’t leave the party, exactly, but he sure as hell did leave her on a couch with Violet and Grant, as if she’d come downtown to a sketchy refurbished warehouse to spend her Saturday night with them.

There were demonstrations, Grant explained, couples that Master Philip had handpicked to put on little shows of bondage and sadism.

The Asian guy she’d seen in the video, Daniel was his name, brought up some young guy and paddled him purple as he hung helpless in a set of medieval stocks. A little while later Mistress Evelyn brought the Meegan girl up and demonstrated this really interesting suspension trick with brightly colored rope. Grant was nice enough to explain each scene to her, who was who and what was happening, so at least she wasn’t completely out of the loop.

As the night went on, three women did a strip-burlesque dance with whips on what seemed to be a main stage. Meanwhile couples or small groups of people all around the place engaged in their own intimate acts. Whispering, kissing, touching, a lot of touching. She saw submissives serving their Masters, Dominants showing their submissives off.

And there she was, with her thumb up her ass, drinking her third glass of sparkling water, while Grant felt Violet up beside her. He was whispering something about wanting to flog her. Then Violet was fending him off with some bullshit, coy responses. Nailah could tell she totally wanted it. She didn’t blame Violet. Grant was sexy and he was actually speaking to her.

Armando was nice enough to offer a nod or mouth “how you doing?” whenever they made eye contact, but he literally spent the whole night circulating the room, as far away from her as possible.

First, he was talking to Master Philip, then the Daniel guy. He ducked into some hidden corner, but then reappeared a couple minutes later with something for Master Philip. He spoke to a lesbian couple that had some May-December thing going on. The older of the two had to be twice her submissive’s age, but they seemed happy together.

Violet and Grant got up twice, once to dance and another time so Violet could use the restroom, or give Grant a handy-j. Why else would he go with her? Every time Nailah was alone for a second a different man would approach her, ask her if she was new, ask her if she wanted them to show her around. She politely declined each time. And after each time she looked around for Armando. He’d seen it all, but he definitely didn’t care. He’d just smile at her, or keep talking, not even missing a beat in his conversation.

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