The Dom With the Perfect Brats (16 page)

Then he stepped away and started on her again with the belt, harder. Harder.

“Shit!” That hurt! She jerked, squealing, and remembered the word. “Red.
Cross, please! Red!”

“Okay. Lie there. Just feel, Izzy.” He massaged between her legs then trailed fingers up over her ass until again she hissed. “I’m done for now.”

Feel? But for a moment she did that. Behind her closed eyelids, drifting away – listening to her body speak to her. The small agonies on her skin made her connect with Cross in some weird way. She’d let him hit her, simply because he wanted to.

The center of her being, her sexuality, throbbed in time with the heat of the pain. She was wet, aroused, and her nipples poked into the hard counter. Maybe she did like pain? Some, anyway? It was different, nice, and as significant as letting him fuck her within an inch of her life, like a stamp that said to her, with each heartbeat, that she belonged to this man, and this man only.

Yeah, she liked that, a lot.

The thuds and slaps of leather woke her from her thoughts.

She could look, couldn’t she? Through eyes barely open and with her eyelashes a blur, she watched Cross methodically lay into Gemma with the belt. He looked absorbed. Gemma looked fucking turned on. Her mouth was open, her lips full and each blow brought forth another little arch of her back. Like she wanted the leather and the pain. Her ass begged him to hit her more, and he was doing it like she was some fascinating project.

Gemma uttered a litany of huffed moans and gasps and squeals. Her hands lay mostly flat on the counter but at the harder blows her head burrowed downward and her fingers curved, and the sounds turned animalistic. He wasn’t even playing with her down there like he had with her, or not so much. And the belt licked at her like he would drive it through her skin.

Amazed, and wishing she could somehow join in, Izzy found her own mouth open.

Damn. Those lips, inches away. Tempting. Did she have to stay where she was? Almost by itself, her hand crept toward Gemma’s face. She wanted to
...

Cross
stopped.

She looked back and he met her gaze, nodded. So she shifted over and murmured, “He wants me to kiss you.”

As if that excused her brazenness, she kissed her, softly. Right on that pretty mouth that breathed as if Cross had lit a furnace inside her. To her shock, after a second, Gemma met her kiss. The world hazed out, replaced by only them – her kissing her...girlfriend? She would have kissed Gemma everywhere if only she had the courage. Lips, neck, breasts, stomach. She imagined herself doing that and pressed the kiss harder, put her hand on the back of Gemma’s head and pulled her in close.

The doorbell jarred them into almost stopping. She licked Gemma’s bottom lip. So tasty and plump. They were in a little world of their own, breathing, kissing.

“Pizza. Fuck. Stop that or we’ll never eat.”

She stared at Gemma and Gemma, wet-lipped and panting, stared back, slowly blinking her
green eyes. So sexy.

“Two
hot asses in front of me with my belt marks? Fuck. Even I have limits.” Cross sounded amused and aroused. “Stay put.”

When Izzy placed one more delicate kiss on Gemma’s mouth, a slap landed on her tortured ass. She yelped, dreading more, but he only stalked off down the hallway. Gemma
smiled dreamily and she grinned back at her, whispering, “Maybe we should eat before he decides we make good permanent kitchen ornaments.”

“Mmm. Maybe I want to be one,” Gemma slurred. “You kiss good, for a girl.”

“For a girl!” She chuckled and pushed a strand of fiery red hair away from Gemma’s mouth. “You’re sweet and funny.”
And I think I love
... No. No, way too early. Dumb thought. She didn’t. Couldn’t.

“You’re sweet and funny too. And smart and sexy. Will you be my girlfriend?” She giggled as if drunk
, so Izzy wasn’t sure whether to take her seriously or not.

But, shit, girlfriends sounded good to her. “You’re high on adrenaline, gorgeous. I don’t think you even know what you’re saying.” It felt wrong to point that out but she didn’t want to get her hopes up. Though
...it wasn’t as if it was a marriage proposal or anything.

Her brows knitted together in an adorable look of consternation. “But
...I like you.”

She sucked in a breath, trying to hold back her elation. Apparently a beating made Gemma’s tongue a little looser. “
I thought you weren’t bi?”

Smiling, she shrugged. “If liking you makes me bi, then maybe I am.”

Izzy shook her head. Gemma didn’t know what she was talking about. You didn’t discover your sexuality identity in one day, or one experience, or based on one person you happened to think was sweet and funny. It was just...the way you were born, wasn’t it? “I don’t think it works that way, Gemma.”

“Why not? Nothing is ever perm
anent. Life changes us. Sexuality can be fluid, can’t it?”

Izzy had never thought of it that way. People were born bi, gay, straight,
etcetera. She’d been born bi and it had turned into a curse once she’d hit puberty. But now Gemma wanted to change her orientation just like that? ’Cause she maybe, slightly, had a crush on Izzy? No. The girl was rattled from the belt, was all.

She seemed to
revive a bit and gave Izzy a mischievous look. “Come on. Let’s go make out on the couch.” Then she grabbed Izzy by the hand and towed her around and into the living room where they collapsed, giggling, in a heap of girl and long legs, over-big t-shirt, and naked asses on the couch.

When they’d untangled themselves, and she’d somehow ended up with herself above Gemma, she dared to ask the question. “Why?”

“Why kiss?”

“Mmhmm.”

Smiling, she sat up and pecked her on the lips. “I told you I like you. Plus I want to see what he’ll do.”

That of all reasons
, but as she shifted on the leather couch, with her thigh over Gemma’s, and her hand somehow on Gemma’s skin beneath the voluminous t-shirt, Izzy decided it was a what-the-hell moment.

“Kiss me,” Gemma murmured.

Her lips would entice a snowman, let alone a sexually-repressed-by-way-too-many-years bisexual girl.
Yep, that’s me.
Izzy lowered herself, and searched with her mouth, her eyes set on Gemma’s like nothing else mattered. She found what she looked for. Her lips met Gemma’s giving ones – giving, breathing, hushly moaning, hot, and so sexy she almost came doing this. Just kissing.

Her tongue wanted in on the action but she held back. Their bodies moved closer, squirming, echoing the heat ramping up between each
moan and nip of teeth. Her tongue tip had breached the opening of Gemma’s lips when...

Cross grabbed the back of her hair and pulled her off.

“Okay. What did we do wrong?” The accusation in his voice stopped her dead.

He let her go and she ended up on her knees, hands on the rug. Somehow he’d gotten Gemma on the floor too, by the hair. Behind him the pizza box sat on a big solid coffee table. The scent of pepperoni contrasted with his
...anger? No, his disappointment. She could almost feel it radiating off him.

“Did I tell
you two to stay put?”

She met his eyes as he grabbed again and used it to tilt her head. Why was she letting him do this? Wrong, or right? Her groin already screamed, yes. The instant he’d grabbed her and she’d known it was him, she’d go
tten wetter. Devastatingly odd.

“Izzy?”

Instinctively, caught in the metal-hot glare, she caved. “You did, yes.”

Coward? No.
Just, with his hand wrenched tight in her hair, he’d made her his. Like the belt, like the spanking, it resonated.

“Gemma?”

Gemma, wide-eyed, fumbled for an answer. “Umm. It was my fault. I made her do it.”

“Decide. Do you want to keep going with this? Because, truth
be told, I want you both. As mine. But.” He paused. “You know by now, I expect submission. I expect you to obey. Do you just want to mess around or can you submit? Really submit, not just be forced to?” He shook both their heads a little. He bent down, brought them both in close so his growl spoke to them as one. “Because this has got to mean something to you both – you have to want to submit to me, to love it. Or this is just an empty game you play to humor me. Do you understand the difference?”

Caught, chastised, and feeling as low as a bunny hiding in its rabbit hole,
Izzy nodded, or tried to. “Yes, I do.” This wasn’t blackmail but more him asserting his authority. And anyone who could make her moisten down there, with just words, like he had just now, deserved her attention.

But it was
n’t just that his growling threats could make her come in three seconds flat, there was something deeper there – something more to this submission stuff. It wasn’t just about play – or sexual gratification. Right now, she was filled with such guilt and disappointment in herself, she could cry. Relationships were serious business to her. She’d entered this one knowing what Cross expected of her, and agreeing to do her part. She’d heard him demand they stay put. Beyond the promise of consequences and punishment for disobeying, there was the sense of disappointment. He’d praised them, rewarded them when they’d pleased him. It always made her heart swell as she gazed at him adoringly. She lived for those moments. His pride in her made her feel so cherished. That was what she yearned for more than just mind-blowing orgasms.

But today, she’d deliberately let him down. And for what? A little
girl-on-girl action on the couch? The way she was feeling now, the anguish of making him displeased, wasn’t worth it.

She wanted this, but did Gemma? Probably not. The woman liked her cheeky independence.
And without Gemma this whole relationship seemed half-dead.

“I
...” Gemma blinked up at him. The unexpected word, squeezed out, “Yes?”

“Yes? You aren’t sure?
Think.” Cross frowned. “And you, Izzy? What do you have to say?”

For a second Izzy shut her eyes, savoring the feeling of being held by the hair.
She felt his grip loosen, and still he waited. Did she really know how to answer this? She was so confused. And so she answered from her heart and whispered, “I’m sorry.”

Cross nodded to her. “Good.”

“There comes a time when I need to see some real submission. I’m at a loss. I don’t know what to do with you two. Strip, then go stand in the corners of the room. Face the corner, and wait.”

Was he serious?

He was. The sternness there, on his face, bothered her. Either do this, or disappoint him, again.

His voice quieted. “
Can you submit whole-heartedly or not?”

Izzy
sucked in a breath, pulled off her last piece of clothing, then went and stood in the corner he’d pointed her to. She stared at the wall, wondering why she’d done this, yet also knowing that it excited her, doing as he’d said to. If he’d let this slide, she would’ve been somehow let down.

Being punished
...she shut her eyes. Being punished thrilled her, especially since her ass still ached from the belt. She leaned her forehead into the wall and tried not to think how this must look. Then her thoughts flipped, and she knew how she’d look. Like his obedient sub. But she knew she deserved it. She almost wanted to pay penance for letting him down. Wiping the slate clean, starting fresh, it made her feel safe and secure.

Had Gemma obeyed? She’d taken off her shirt while still kneeling, and dropped it to one side, revealing a flash of those full yet perky breasts. Yes, she remembered the flash of
those
before she’d come here to the corner, but had Gemma obeyed?

Sneakily she looked out the corner of her eye, enough to catch sight of Cross standing over Gemma where she knelt beside the couch. Uh-oh.

More seconds ticked past.

“Gemma.” Cross heaved out a sigh. “That you’re kneeling and you’ve taken off your shirt tells me you want this. Yes?”

“I don’t want to have to stand in a corner like a child, no.” She pouted up at him.

Cross squatted and spoke quietly. “It’s punishment. It’s not supposed to be fun or exciting.”

Oh shit. It wasn’t? Izzy’s heart thumped a little louder for a few beats. She squeezed together her thighs. She was
so
not telling him it turned her on, though she still felt ashamed for having needed it.

“Is this a hard limit, Gemma?” He stroked the top of her head. “Is it something that terrifies you or bothers you so much that you cannot stand it?”

She frowned and angled her head to look at Cross. For a few seconds, Gemma put a finger to her mouth and played with her lip. “No. It’s just humiliating. Next you’ll have me writing, I must not say bad things to Cross a hundred times in crayon. And grounding me for a –”

Cross growled. He reached and grabbed the back of her neck – his hand wrapped halfway round. With his other hand, he’d captured her wrist. Gemma squeaked.

“Are you safewording?” He went so close his head hid Gemma’s but Izzy figured he was talking in that deep, rumbly voice right into her ear. If him being all Neanderthal-like got to the woman, she’d be a puddle on the floor about now. She couldn’t help grinning at that thought.