Yellow (The Safeword Series, #2) (4 page)

She wrapped her arms around my neck, distracting me from the interruption with a naughty little grin. “Sorry. I just-” She chewed on her bottom lip, probably debating swallowing whatever was on her mind. The moment passed and the grin returned to her lips. “You call me Sin. What do I call you?”

I lowered her onto the bed, my first thought shooting to safety and intrigue. ‘Sir’ was my standard, and a completely acceptable way to be addressed, but my lips were already moving, giving her a piece of me beneath the mask.

“You can call me D.”

She’d nearly melted into the sheets until I answered her question. When I responded, giving her a letter, she vaulted on her elbows.

Her cerulean eyes brightened with interest. “D for Dom?”

D for Desmond
, I thought, a flash of panic slicing through me. The kiss was one thing, Christ, what was next? Giving her my home address? Giving her my heart? “D is all you need to know.”

The less information I gave her, the more interested she became, practically hopping off the bed altogether, filled with more questions than I was ready to answer. I knew just the way to fly under the radar and punish her as she so rightly deserved.

“Do you remember what I said a few moments ago? About not moving without my permission?”

A flush raced from her neck to her cheeks. “Oh! Sorry.” She locked her hands in front and sat back on her heels. “Sorry.” Even with the recessed lighting on low, her smile burned bright. “D.”

It was only the first letter of my name, but it was enough to make my cock throb with delight.

What would my whole name sound like on her tongue?

How would her body
feel
on my tongue?

That curious spark in her eyes had darkened to something more primal than investigative. She looked positively sinful, the pink wig teasing her chin, her eyes bright and hopeful behind her thick lashes. Her shoulders were a milky, gentle ivory and I knew that her peaks would be like some forbidden fruit. I was one of a handful of men who didn’t have some women in plaid skirts fetish. With Sin kneeling on the bed, the red pleats beckoning for me to slip my fingers beneath and discover the delights ripe for the taking, I suddenly got the appeal. I wanted to bend her over in that skirt, and nothing else, and punish her. Pleasure her. Tease her. Leave her wanting and aching for more.

She scooped her dark locks over her shoulder, twisting the bundle demurely. “And I almost wore pants tonight-”

I knew excitement was making her forget the rules, but a different kind of excitement gripped me at the opportunity to show her what happened when she disobeyed me. “Go get the cat o’ nine and bring it to me.”

She slapped a hand over her mouth and she was almost cute enough that I wanted follow up with something that wasn’t not so stern. Like a long, lingering kiss that would make her smile instead of gasp like she was in trouble.

But she is in trouble. You need to dominate and if the way her body responded to you last night is any indication, she needs to submit.

“Now, Sin,” I said darkly. “Or it will be much, much worse.”

She jumped off the bed like I’d blown a whistle, shooting toward the corner where an array of devices hung on silver hooks. She lingered at one of the paddles, but her eyes darted to the cat o’ nine whip and she snatched it, holding it up like she’d retrieved the flag for the team and the win was in the bag.

She lowered her arm slowly when she peered at what was in her clutches, then began the tentative walk towards me. She was so bold last night, grabbing me, doing her own thing, but tonight, it was a complete 180. The true test was if she’d trust me to know how much she could take. To know the moment to temper my actions before she even thought the word ‘yellow’.

Her eyes were round with worry and a fascination that made goosebumps ripple across me. She held out the whip, handle first, the leather strips stroking her fingers. I knew the look in her eyes; it was the look of fear, laced in wonder. We asked ourselves similar questions: how could pain be so arousing? How could giving pain set me free? It should be terrifying, certifiable even, these questions that I ignored because the allure of dominating was so damn delicious.

I took the whip, leather strips first, and ran the end of the handle up her arm, gently lifting her chin until she could look nowhere but my eyes.

“How should I punish you?”

Her chin trembled, her brow furrowing in confusion. “You’re asking me?” I tightened my jaw and she backtracked. “What do I even say to that? How do I want you to hurt me?” Her question was a murmur and she drew her hands up, stroking her fingertips along the shaft of the handle, knowing that I wanted to replace that handle with my cock.

She reached out and touched me without prompting or permission. Lust, and the urge to bend her over and make her obey, swallowed me whole.

“You’re still misbehaving,” I warned her. Any other sub would have fallen to their knees, begging for forgiveness or mercy, avoiding a punishment that would have surely left her aching with more pain than pleasure.

Not her.

She slid her hand down, guiding the tip of the handle down her neck. I was enraptured, and some form of appalled because there was no way she’d be that bold. There was no way she was headed where I thought she was headed.

And then she took it a step further, placing the tip between her breasts.

The smile on her face was a challenge.

Punish me
, it said.
I dare you
.

My regular approach wouldn’t work with her. She’d dial it up and I’d follow suit. She wanted me to punish her. She wanted to push every button until she was screaming in agony and bliss and I was mad with lust and power.

Sneaky little sub.

I took hold of the whip and her eyes brightened, her smile stretching from ear to ear.

“You want me to punish you.” My voice was low, dangerous, and the fact that she wanted to play with fire made every drop of blood in me rush to my groin, engorging my cock. It was just as insolent as she was, ready to surrender. To feel her wrapped around me so tight that we both escaped; lost ourselves in the flesh and moans and passion.

No.

Not yet.

Not until I showed her who was in charge.

“You want me to spank you?” I asked her, moving closer, grinning to myself when she took a step back, realizing that the beast she wanted to unleash might bite a little harder than she anticipated.

I combed my fingers through her midnight locks, holding her steady. Roping and tugging the strands just sharp enough that she gasped, her lips rounding because she realized I meant business.

“Do you want me to punish you?” I snapped.

She sucked her bottom lip in, like she didn’t know the answer to that question. Like I was the kind of Dom that was a fan of repeating myself.

“Answer me, Sophia.” I used her name, her real name, because I wanted her to know I saw her...and I knew what she was up to.

The smile flickered in her gaze as her eyes bore into mine. “Yes. I want to be punished.”

Using every ounce of my own self control, I released her. I felt her wanting, longing, but I took my time removing my jacket, folding my sleeves back like I was in no rush. My heart told a different story, nearly thumping right out of my chest. My throat was bone dry. Alcohol wouldn’t sate it, and when I turned back to her, I realized punishing her wouldn’t sate it either....but damn if I wasn’t gonna try.

“I want you to turn around, put both hands on the bed, and show me how wet being naughty makes you.” I lifted the whip from the table, smiling on the inside as she watched me roll my wrists, making the leather strips spin like a kinky pinwheel. “Show me how wet you get when you try your Dom’s patience.”

She could barely suppress her glee, her hair spinning as wildly as the whip as she whirled toward the bed. She split the distance between her and obeying, lowering her hands onto the mattress and curving her spine.

In the dim light of the room I was too far away to make out the curves of her, but my fingers would know her intimately.

Then my mouth.

Then my raging hard length.

A punishment for us both really, because anything more than a spanking would just solidify that whatever this was was much more than a Dom and a submissive. ‘D and Sin’. This would be Desmond and Sophia. From the moment our eyes met, it was the only way things could be.

I drew to her, aching as I drank in the round curve of her ass and my eyes stroked the length of her juicy folds, ripe for my taking.

She let out a quivering sound as the strips connected with her flesh, anticipating the moment my wrist would snap and the tease would become a bite of pain. She thought she had my number, hell, she
did
have my number. There was no mask for my cock, piercing and craving the wetness between her thighs. I ached to hear her moans, to bask in her grunts as I spanked her.

But she needed discipline; she needed to learn that I would give her what she needed, when I decided it was appropriate.

I need discipline because I'm ready to just take her; not as her Dom, but as me, a man who desperately wants to make his woman come...

I dropped the whip, smiling when she twisted her head to the right. I didn't need to see her face to know she was probably pouting.

I ran my fingertips along her hips. “I gave you a chance to tell me how you wanted to be punished, and you chose to be disobedient instead.” I tightened my grip, my fingers pressing into her flesh. “Now,
I'll
choose how I want to teach you a lesson.”

And pretend that I'm not struggling to give in myself.

Her skin was soft as silk beneath my touch and a thought raced through my head. Last night, I didn't have the strength to give her the spanking she so rightly deserved.

“I think I owe you a proper spanking,” I breathed hotly, caressing the skin I planned to set on fire. “Since you're so chatty this evening, I want you to count out every strike.” I didn't wait for her to answer, bringing my palm down on her ass with a force that made her gasp and me twitch, bulging against the fabric of my slacks.

My heart froze, currents of sensation rippling through my fingertips.

“One,” she whispered hoarsely.

This time, when I hit four, I didn't even wait for her to call it out before I gave her a fifth. Her pale skin wore my mark, rosy red and trembling. I stroked the tender flesh and she did the tiniest movement, pushing her ass back to me, the sight of her pussy making me forget about aftercare, because I wasn't done.

I gripped her ass, rolling her soft skin in my palms before I spread her cheeks and looked at her. She was beautiful, dripping wet with desire.

I leaned in, burying my mouth where it belonged, discovering the sweet taste of her flesh. Of her want. She pumped her hips, fucking my tongue, groaning that she wanted more.

Deeper.

I told myself that I wasn't giving in, that I was still in control as I strode to the side table, tearing open the condom wrapper with my teeth and slipping the latex over my rock hard length. She was still on the bed, her chest against the mattress, her ass in the air, her head to the side, watching me with fascination.

“Are you gonna fuck me?” she whispered, like she was still dreaming. Like it was the one thing, she wanted, needed, in the whole world.

“Yes,” I answered gruffly, because I knew that our needs were aligned. I had to be inside her.

I guided myself into her, slipping just inside her tightness. I felt her clench the head, trying to pull me inside. I put both hands on her hips, knowing I needed something to hold on to so I didn't completely lose control.

And then she started grinding her hips. Using my cock. Losing her mind.

I plunged inside her with abandon. Digging my fingers into her hips, not caring about rules or safewords or anything except getting her to that place. To bliss.

I wanted her to come.

The last thing on my mind was getting off because I knew that was the key; letting this wild submissive strip me down, would take me there. Take us to a place that should have terrified me. But I let go too, feeling her climax rush up to meet me like a wave crashing into the shore. There was no warning and she knocked the air out of me. Any final shreds of control disintegrated and I was calling out her name.

Not Sin.

Sophia.

Not even sated, but my conscience and damning rationality peeking through, I pulled from her. The only piece of anything either of us had on were the masks. I got so caught up in her that I didn’t even remember undressing, just tearing off whatever kept us from being skin to skin. Flesh to flesh.

The masks were a reminder that we were at Hush. And here, all I could be to her, to anyone, was a Dom. Hearing her say that she liked me, and knowing full well I liked her too, I slipped off the bed, ready to put myself back together and get out of there before either one of us did anything else that would get us in trouble.

She gripped my hand, drawing my eye to her. Even behind the mask, her eyes were intense. Pleading.

“Stay?” She bit her lip. “Just for a little while.”

If I was smart, I would have said that I had business to attend to, or better yet, forget the lie and be honest. Staying would just make the inevitable leaving even more painful.

But I'd sealed our fate the moment I told her she was beautiful. The moment I felt the way she felt on the inside. The moment I realized that dominating had a whole other side I hadn't explored...that I liked that she was willful and not docile and obedient.

The moment I realized that I wanted to know her, inside and out.

I didn't let go of her hand. I brought her knuckles to my lips, pressing a kiss on her skin, then I climbed onto the bed beside her.

I closed my eyes as she snuggled up to me, her body soft and warm against mine. “Just for a little while.”

W
e cuddled for what felt like hours, and then I couldn’t help myself. I slipped my hand between our bodies and I grabbed him. I felt him grow in my hands. Pulse. Then his eyes flew open like he caught himself. He held my wrist hostage, stopping me.