The Submission of Alistair Ingram (11 page)

His
forearms tightened, resisting the urge to grab her hands and pull them away.
“No.”

“No?
Then is it just me you refuse to obey?”

“No.”

“No,
what?”

“No,
Mistress.” His heart pounded against his ribcage. He might be having a heart
attack.

She
began to squeeze and roll his balls in her hand. He exhaled a deep breath and
let his head fall back. Her fingers felt so fucking good.

Then
she let go. “Hmm…” Bethany walked to his desk and pulled out the
straight-backed chair. “Come over here and hold on to the back.”

He
licked his lips and took slow, measured paces over to the chair then gripped
the wooden rail that ran across the top of the back. Bethany walked behind him,
and he heard her digging around in her bag again. Soon, she was back with the
cuffs she’d used on him in the rest stop men’s room. He wanted to protest but
remembered how she hadn’t left him there. She’d only been outside the door.
He’d known she’d come back for him—he’d trusted her.

He’d
trust her again.

She
cuffed his hands to the back of the chair. “Spread your legs,” she ordered.

Oh
God, what was she going to do to him? He hesitated for a little too long, and
she brought that little knotted whip down across his ass, making him thrust his
hips forward. She rubbed her hand where the whip had hit, caressing him.
“Spread your legs,” she said again, softer this time.

He
did. She knelt at his feet and cuffed each ankle to the ends of a metal bar. He
couldn’t put his legs back together if he wanted to.

Panic
started to well in his chest. He took deep breaths to calm himself.

She
wouldn’t hurt him.

Unless
he wanted her to.

There
was no denying he was hard as a rock, his erection poking the back of the
chair. How could he be so fucking turned on and panicked at the same time?

“Close
your eyes,” she said.

He
did and immediately heard the hum of the vibrator she’d laid on the bed.

His
eyes snapped back open.

“Close.
Them.” Bethany whipped him twice on the ass, not caressing away the sting this
time.

He
clenched his teeth and shut his eyes.

Alistair
was instantly rewarded with her delicate lips kissing his ass cheek where she’s
struck him. He arched his back, clutching the back of the chair.

This
woman would be his undoing.

He
jolted when the vibrator ran up his leg from knee to thigh. The back of the
chair might splinter in two under the force of his grip on it.

She
whipped his ass again, then blew across it. Her warm breath sent a chill up his
back.

The
vibrator traced the same path up his other leg. Alistair didn’t jump this time.

“You’ve
done very well, Pretty Boy,” Bethany purred. “It’s time for your reward.”

Dead
And Buried

His
reward? He could barely fucking wait. It took everything inside him not to rip
the damn chair apart, turn around and shove his dick in her mouth.

Bethany
wrapped her arm around him and took his hard, throbbing cock in her hand.

Alistair
inhaled a hiss of air through his teeth as she began to stroke him, running her
vibrator up one thigh and barely touching his ass as she rounded to run it down
the other. Her lips kissed and nibbled his left butt cheek, and he was on
sensory overload.

She
gently bit him, and he groaned. The vibrator moved between his legs, massaging
his balls. She pressed it harder against the spot behind his balls—no man’s
land—and the world exploded behind his eyes. “Fuck,” he whispered.

She
didn’t tell him he couldn’t speak, and it was a good thing, because he was
about to release the longest stream of four letter words in history.

She
rotated the vibrator, still pressing it to the same spot, and his knees
buckled. Alistair leaned forward, holding himself up with his forearms on the
back of the chair. The cuffs pulled and pinched, but he didn’t care. They could
rip his damn hands off.

Her
hand slid up and down his cock, her lips still kissed and nipped his ass
cheeks, and that vibrator…Jesus.

Bethany
stroked him faster. His hips responded, matching her pace. “Come for me, Pretty
Boy,” she said against his hot, wet skin under her mouth.

He
groaned. So, so close. Everything inside him was tightening and flaming, ready
to combust.

She
swirled the vibrator again, pressing and releasing as she stroked him. He felt
the throbbing, the quickening. “Alistair, come for me,” she whispered.

She’d
used his name. Not Pretty Boy. Not Doll. “Alistair,” she whispered again,
stroking lightning fast. “Give it to me.”

Her
teeth sank into him as his release came hard and fast, blinding him with its
severity. He let loose a loud groan and called her name.
Bethany
.

Jesus,
Bethany
.

She
stroked him a few more times as the last pulses tore through him. He opened his
eyes and looked down, watching his cock spurt onto her hand. He’d hit the
chair, the desk, the wall, and the carpet. He couldn’t catch his breath, and
his heartbeat was erratic. Spots still flashed in front of his eyes. He’d never
experienced anything like that before.

Bethany
let him go, unfastened his ankles and ran her hands up his sides as she stood
behind him. She pressed soft, warm kisses to his shoulder and neck before
unlocking the cuffs around his wrist.

Alistair
still didn’t move. He couldn’t. She’d paralyzed him. “Are you okay?” she asked,
weaving her fingers through his hair.

“No.”

“No?
What’s wrong?”

He
turned to face her. Now he knew what she’d meant when she uttered those words
to him. The same ones that were forcing their way off his tongue. “I don’t know
who I am anymore.”

She
traced his lips with her fingertip. “You’re Alistair Ingram.”

He
slowly shook his head from side to side. “You’ve killed him.”

Bethany
traced her finger down his chin, letting it drop to his chest and follow a path
down his sternum to his abs. “Maybe he died with Black Betty.”

This
wasn’t a role, and he couldn’t pretend. He didn’t know what the hell was going
on between them, but whatever it was, it was crazy addictive.

Alistair
wrapped his arms around her waist and picked her up. He walked her the few steps
to the bed and set her down. “I’d like to take your dress off, Mistress.”

She
licked a trail up his neck and whispered in his ear. “Take it off.”

A
knock sounded on his open door. “Sorry.”

Alistair
spun around. Kent stood in the doorway. “I should’ve never given you a fucking
key,” Alistair said.

Kent
chuckled. “I didn’t realize you were back already. Or naked.” He tried to peer
around Alistair. “Don’t tell me that’s--”

“This
is Bethany,” Alistair said, stepping to the side. “Bethany, this is Kent.”

Kent’s
eyebrows rose. “Black Betty, I presume?”

Alistair
shared a knowing glance with Bethany. “No,” he said. “We killed and buried her
with Alistair Ingram.”

Bethany
grinned.

Kent
frowned at Alistair. “Well, whoever you are, you have an interview with
The Hollywood
Harpy
in an hour, so clean yourself up.”

“Shit,”
Alistair said, gazing down at Bethany. “Just when I got the thumbs up to pull
that dress over your head.”

Bethany
put a hand to her throat, and he swore she was blushing. This brazen woman
who’d had him cuffed to a chair and used a vibrator on him only minutes ago was
blushing because he’d mentioned undressing her in front of Kent.

Yep—he
could spend a thousand years with this woman and still not know her at all.

“Be
right down,” he told Kent, and waited until he was gone to collapse onto the
bed beside Bethany.

She
sat back and ran her hand over his chest. “I should go to a hotel. I don’t want
to stay here if you’re not going to be home. It would be weird.”

He
grasped her hand and kissed her knuckles. “You’re coming with me.”

She
shook her head, her eyes wide. “No, I’m not.”

“Why?
Afraid of a few reporters? You don’t have to go in. I’ll be fast. I’ll have the
driver take you to get coffee or a smoothie or whatever you want.”

Christ,
she looked like she was ready to bolt again. How had he scared her this time?
“Bethany? I’m offering you a beverage, not a lifetime commitment. Don’t freak
out on me.”

She
pushed her tongue into the side of her cheek. “I’m not.”

“You
are. I keep falling right back into this trap with you. Just when we’re good, I
fuck up again.”

She
grasped their joined hands. “No. You didn’t. I’m fine. It’s just…” she laid
down beside him, “I’m not used to men being nice to me. It does freak me out.”

Alistair
rose up on his elbow to gaze down at her. “Well you better get used to it
because I’m going to be nice, and I’m not letting you run away from me every
time I am. Got it?”

She
giggled. It was a sound he never anticipated coming from her. He loved the
sound of it.

“Yes,”
she said.

He
smirked. “Yes, what?”

She
bit her lip, grinning. “Yes, Sir.”

“I
like the sound of that.” Alistair dipped his head to capture her lips against
his. She opened to him, handing herself over. He delved his tongue inside,
tangling it with hers, desperate to take all he could before she closed up on
him again.

A
soft moan escaped her. It was the best reward she could ever give him. He
wanted to make her moan a million more times.

He
would
make her moan a million more times.

Mind
And Body

Alistair
took a quick shower, standing under the spray of hot water, wishing he had
Bethany’s naked body in there with him. Pressed against his. Wet and wanting.

He
left the door to the bedroom open just in case she got the urge to join him. He
didn’t think she would, but she’d proven more than once how capable she was of
surprising him. Who knew he’d enjoy the toys in that black bag of hers so much?

He
couldn’t wait to use them on her.

His
dick was getting hard again. He had to stop his imagination. In a few minutes,
he’d be on his way through the shitty L.A. traffic to an interview.

It
was the last place on Earth he wanted to be.
The Hollywood Harpy
reporter was a bitch. He’d exchanged his share of words with her several times
when she’d misquoted him. Twisted his words to benefit sales of her rag gossip
magazine.

He
told Kent he’d never give them another interview, but Kent never listened. Alistair
would like to take a whip to his dumb ass. Maybe he just wouldn’t show up. That
would teach Kent.

Alistair
opened the shower door, grabbed a towel and stepped out. He glanced out into
his bedroom and caught sight of Bethany pulling a shirt down over her chest.
She’d changed out of her dress into a purple V-neck t-shirt and tan shorts. She
looked different. Normal.

He
laughed to himself. Looks could be so deceiving. She was anything but normal
and everything he was quickly finding to be perfect for him. If she knew that,
she’d kill him in his sleep and be on the next plane out of the country.

*
* *

Bethany’s
pulled her shirt down and lifted her head, coming eye-to-eye with Alistair
standing in the bathroom. The towel wrapped loose across his waist did little
to cover his body. When she’d first seen him standing in front of her naked, it
was all she could do not to lick every single inch of him.

No
man should look that amazing naked.

And
when he came for her… The way he’d called out her name, slipping into his
British accent. Her pussy throbbed just thinking about it.

She
wanted to run into the bathroom and lock them in. She wanted him so deep inside
her, that she didn’t care what her name was or who she used to be.

There
was no way she should be feeling this way so soon…or ever. It scared her to
death. But, she couldn’t resist it. Her attraction to him was too strong, so
she’d just have a battle of mind and body until one of them conceded to the
other.

She
was rooting for her body to win.

“What?”
he asked. “Why are you giving me that look?” He stripped off his towel and
rubbed it vigorously over his wet hair.