FightingforControl (9 page)

Her hands didn’t shake this time and the buttons pulled free
easily. She tugged the fabric free from his pants and set the garment on the
table. Brad enjoyed watching her eyes move over his bare skin and he fought the
urge to flex. Her appreciation made the hours at the gym a bit less tedious.

His cock throbbed and he realized this was taking altogether
too long. Reaching for his belt, he said, “Take off your panties and lift your
skirt. Show me how wet you are.”

Lori’s eyes flared and she did what he asked. With her skirt
around her waist, she spread her feet slightly, her shoulders back and breasts
upthrust beneath her shirt.

“Are you wet?” he reminded.

Sliding a finger between her pussy lips, she held it out to
him. He took her hand and held it beneath his nose, inhaling her scent. His
cock jumped. “Fuck, I love the way you smell when you want me. Sit on the edge
of the table.”

Unbuckling his belt and lowering his zipper, Brad dropped
his pants and freed his cock, stroking it as he shuffled between Lori’s legs.
He pulled the condom from his back pocket and rolled it over his hard length.
“Lie back.”

She did, and he raised her knees, spreading her thighs and
lifting her butt from the polished wood. “So wet, and pink. The perfect
dessert. Can I eat you, Lori?”

Her hips rocked toward him as she replied with breathy
words. “Yes please.”

With a thumb on either side, he opened her more and ran the
tip of his tongue from her wet opening to the hard nub of her clit.
Delicious.
He moaned, flattening his tongue to capture all her juices as he lapped again.

“Oh God, yes,” she whispered.

“Remember, you can’t come until I say.”

“But, what if I can’t—”

“You can control it.” Brushing his lower teeth against the
hood of her clit, he felt her tremble. “You will control it. Tell me if you get
close.”

“We passed close the minute I felt your tongue,” she
groaned.

He laughed. “Then we’re going to find out how long you can
remain at ‘close’.” Stiffening his tongue, he pushed inside, fucking her
quickly while pressing a thumb against her clit. He lapped the length of her
again and sucked her swollen nub between his lips, loving the squeals he
elicited.

“I can’t—oh, fuck, I want more. Don’t stop…but I’m going
to…”

Her hips jerked, following the jabs of his tongue, and she
opened her thighs even wider. Brad pulled at her blouse and reached under it to
cup her breast, rolling the nipple through the thin cotton fabric of her bra.
He inched beneath it and pinched hard while biting down on her clit.

“Oh!” Her body jumped.

“Come for me, Lori. I want to taste your honey.”

Fucking her pussy with two fingers, he continued to suck on
her clit and twist her nipple. Her moisture flowed around his fingers, and her
cries grew in pitch. “That’s it, let go. Let me see you come.”

Her hips froze. Her pussy spasmed around him, clenching
hard. She cried out, gasping, her body jerking.

Brad straightened, wiping her juices on the condom on his
throbbing cock and thrusting into her before she came down completely. “Grab my
cock with your pussy. Fuck me.”

“Yes, fuck me, please, Master. Please let me feel you come.”

He hunched over her, leaning on the table and kissing her
hard. He pushed his way between her lips and fucked her mouth as he pumped into
her pussy. She was so tight around him, her tongue fighting with his as she
grunted and whimpered. Her arms clenched his shoulders and she rocked her hips
in time with him.

He couldn’t hold back, but wanted her there with him. “Come
with me, honey.”

Her pussy fluttered around his cock.

“That’s it, come with me.” He wedged a hand between them and
flicked his thumbnail over her clit. “I can feel you’re almost there. I can’t
wait, come now.”

He felt her shatter around him, heard the wetness increasing
as he pumped harder. His balls burned with the need to release. When she cried
out again he let go. “Oh, yeah!”

Brad thrust again, the sensation of her tight pussy clamping
around him bringing ripples of ecstasy each time he did. His breaths came hard
and he fought not to collapse on top of Lori. He let his head rest on the table
beside hers but kept his weight on his forearms braced on the table.

Her breasts rose and fell as she tried to recover. Sweat ran
over his shoulders and he worried he was dripping onto her, so he lifted
slightly. “Where can I find towels?”

She began to sit up. “Let me—”

“I can get them. You lie back.”

Lori frowned but quickly recovered. “The bathroom is the
first door down the hallway.”

He quickly ran a damp washcloth over his cock after tossing
the condom in her wastebasket, then rinsed the cloth to use on her. He was a
bit surprised that she still lay on her dining table, as he’d instructed, given
her apparent need to control what little she could.

The acquiescence warmed him. She seemed relaxed as he wiped
her juices from her thighs and cleaned her up. He patted her dry with the towel
he’d brought, but was reluctant to pull down her skirt when he finished. Toying
with her curls, he stole a glance at her face.

She smiled.

Returning her grin, he said, “I could get used to you not
wearing panties.”

Her eyes flared a moment before she frowned. He reassured
her. “But not at work. We keep it all away from work. Maybe taking off your
panties when you get home can be your way of changing roles.”

“Roles? It still sounds like a game.”

“Well, changing hats, then. Going from Lori the graphic
designer to Lori the…what do we call you? I don’t like the term slave because
it implies you have no freedom. But this is always about your limits. Your
choices.”

She moved to sit again, and this time he helped her up. “I
don’t question that you and Marc are able to make me happy, whether it’s
because of this domination stuff or whatever. I don’t know that I can always
sit back and not make decisions, though.”

Brad took her hand and led her to the couch where he sat
beside her. “You are making decisions, though. You always have the final say in
anything we do.”

“I guess. But there’s another thing I’m worried about.
What’s Marc going to say about us being here without him?”

“He’s probably going to be jealous he’s not here. But he
knows I came over. He won’t ask what happened while I was here.”

“And if I sleep with him when you’re not around?”

Squeezing her shoulders with one arm, he tugged her into a
playful hug. “I’ll be green-eyed and blue-balled. But that’s your right, too.
Neither of us owns you. But it would be respectful of you to ask permission
before you allow another master to touch you.”

She laughed. “I’m sure they’re just lining up to whip my
ass.”

He ran a finger along the side of her face, noticing how
pink her cheeks were after having sex. “You’d be surprised.”

“Well, it’s not a problem. I think two masters will be more
than enough.”

“I sure hope so,” he mumbled before kissing her.

* * * * *

Marc waited at the base of the stairs for Lori to come down
on her way to her car. He and Brad had held back for the last week and a half,
letting her adjust to working alongside them without bringing their private
relationship into the office.

And if he were honest with himself, he’d admit the wait was
killing him. He spoke with her over the phone a few nights, and the three of
them had lunched with two other coworkers one day, but he needed more.

Having had a taste of her, even as restricted as their time
at the club had been, he craved more. He wanted to take her to Blackie’s, alone
and with Brad, but also wanted a tamer evening of dinner and a quiet evening at
home.

He recognized her shoes before the rest of her came into
view as she rounded the landing and came down the last of the stairs. As usual,
his body warmed at the sight of her. “Hey,” he called softly.

Her face lit. “Hi.”

He fell into step beside her as they crossed the empty lobby
and he held the door for her. Once outside, he spoke. “Are you free for dinner
tonight?”

She met his eyes before putting on her sunglasses, but
didn’t reply.

“I know it’s last minute.” They paused under the shade of a
tree. “I’ve missed you outside of work,” he admitted.

“Yes, I’m free.” She shifted her purse strap on her
shoulder, her arm remaining across her chest, and Marc caught the protective
stance.

“Anything beyond dinner is your choice, of course. We could
go to a club, a movie.” His throat grew a bit husky and he cleared it. “Or my
place.”

Lori’s smile grew just enough to tug at his gut. “I like the
sound of your place. But I’ll trust your decision.”

His cock twitched, her words as good as a touch. “I’m glad.
I’ll pick you up at eight.”

Her tongue wiped across her lower lip before she nibbled at
the rosy flesh. “What shall I wear?”

Marc’s nostrils flared. He wanted to say
nothing
, but
that would make restaurant dining a bit awkward. “A dress. With very little
underneath.”

“Will do,” she answered softly. They continued to her car
before Marc dug out his phone to make a reservation at his favorite Italian
restaurant.

The dress she chose couldn’t have pleased him more.
Spaghetti straps held up two triangles of tropical-floral fabric which covered
her breasts. The small triangles let him imagine how easily he could slip a
finger beneath and explore the soft flesh of her breast. The waist of the dress
followed her curves and the skirt flowed loosely, catching the ocean breeze as
they walked across the parking lot and into the restaurant.

He’d chosen a spot in Newport Beach, a bit of a drive from
her Los Angeles apartment, but somewhere they were less likely to run into
coworkers. He didn’t care who saw them, but he knew she did.

He sat beside her on the padded bench the hostess led them
to, the tablecloth hiding them from the waist down. Just the way he liked it.
He kept his hands to himself while they studied the menu and ordered. After the
waiter brought their drinks, he stroked the fabric covering her thigh and
slowly inched the skirt up. “Tell me about Lori,” he said. “Did you grow up
here?”

“No, I’m from Nebraska. I came to UCLA for college and
stayed.” She toyed with her drink, moving the ice around with the tiny straw.

“Were you an art major?”

“Dual majors, art and business.”

He nodded. That spoke volumes about her. Driven. Successful.
“Do you use your art recreationally, or just for work?” He knew some artists
who got burned out at work and no longer enjoyed it as a hobby.

“I dabble in watercolors sometimes. What about you?”

“I still love to sketch people. I’d love to do you sometime.
Nude, if you’d let me.”

She caught his gaze but didn’t respond. One day she’d be
relaxed enough to pose for him, he was sure. He’d love to pose her on an
X-cross or spanking bench wearing the shoes she’d worn the first night, and
nothing else. He said so.

Her cheeks colored and she cleared her throat. “I don’t know
if I could stand in them long enough for you to sketch me.”

“Maybe I’ll take pictures and use them to sketch you. Would
that be all right?”

She took another drink while the waiter set out their
salads. “We can talk about it. Pictures are dangerous.”

His mouth twitched. “And you don’t trust me with photos of
you?”

Lori must have caught the tone of his voice—her eyebrows
raised and her eyes widened. “No, that wasn’t personal. Really. But I’ve
never—when people break up—you know, I mean…” She let out a growl. “Can we talk
about it another time?”

He squeezed her thigh, his hand now on her bare flesh. “Yes.
This isn’t the place for it, is it?”

Her smile showed her relief. They talked a bit more about
work while they ate. When she laid down her fork, Marc’s hand again went to her
leg, stroking up her inner thigh.

Her skin was silken, warm and smooth. The higher up her leg
he went, the more she shifted to allow him access. When he found her curls,
proving she’d not worn panties, his groin tightened. He had to fight not to
leave right then and take her somewhere he could undress her completely.

He was rubbing up and down her slit when the waiter came
with their main courses. Marc kept his hand under the tablecloth, pressing into
the dampness he’d just discovered, keeping an eye on Lori’s face as the waiter
set out their meal.

“Anything else?” the young man asked, looking first at Marc,
then Lori.

“No, thanks. We’re good.” Her voice squeaked. She reached
for her fork, ignoring Marc completely. He noticed she didn’t close her legs on
his hand, however.

Waiting for the waiter to leave, Marc ran his finger deep
along her slit before taking his hand back. With his other hand, he reached for
the garlic bread. “This smells heavenly,” he said, leaving her to wonder at his
meaning.

Later, when they sat in his car at a traffic light, he
glanced across the front seat of his car. “Would you rather go to my place, or
Blackie’s?”

She turned toward him, her face lit by the street lamp. “I’m
not dressed for a club, am I?”

“There are no clothing requirements once you enter the club.
Some places require fetish wear, but Blackie’s is more casual. You could whip
off your dress and parade around naked, and no one would care.”

Her jaw dropped, causing Marc to add, “Not that I’d ask you
to do that. I’d get jealous having other men look at your luscious body.”

She seemed to sink into her seat as if relaxing again. “In
that case, you decide.”

“Are you sure?”

She nodded.

“Okay, then.” The light changed and he shifted into gear.

Chapter Eight