Handling Cynthia: A Second Chances Novella (7 page)

He brushed her hair behind her ear. "When I spanked you, was that okay?"

"Hot."

He dragged his thumb across her lower lip. "The next time, I won't go so easy on you."

Her eyes darkened. "Yes, sir."

"Let's change up the rules. You can talk to me—I want to know what you're feeling. But no arguments. I expect you to comply with everything I say. And don't do anything without permission."

"Yes, sir." Her cheeks flushed, the pink color giving her an innocent look.

"Take off your top."

Her jaw tensed, but she lifted the camisole over her head, those pretty, round breasts bouncing with the action. He cupped one in his hand, then leaned down and suckled. "This is mine." He worked the nipple with his thumb, flicking and pinching, slowly applying more pressure until she squealed. "I'm going to teach you about pain, Cyn. It doesn't have to be unpleasant. It's just sensation.
Thinking
is what makes it painful or pleasurable."

She nodded, her eyes downcast.

"I need you to trust me."

"I do."

The apprehension in her voice sliced through him. He kissed her. "I can't do this unless I'm sure it's what you want. If you're having second thoughts—"

"No!" She met his gaze. "It's exactly what I want."

He kissed her mouth, tongue exploring every crevice. Her body fit so perfectly in his arms. He thought of all the ways he could fuck her. Right there, on his lap, was sounding pretty good to him. Take off her panties, get the condom from his wallet, and they'd be good to go. His cock liked the sound of that.

He raked his nails down her back, and her body bucked. They undulated together as she unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off him. He grabbed her trembling fingers as she reached to unbuckle his belt.

"Uh-uh," he scolded. "I didn't give you permission to do that."

She gasped. "I'm sorry. I forgot."

"I'm sorry, too. Because now, I have to discipline you."

***

Blood coursed to her sex, the tender flesh aching with want. Her inner muscles constricted at the thought of his heavy hand on her ass. She wondered if he would face her to the wall like he had earlier.

He reached down and unbuckled his belt.

Panic froze her body. Her mouth grew dry. She wasn't ready for that. It was too much too soon.

He pulled the belt free from his jeans. A cruel smile curled his lips. "Hold out your hands with your palms together."

Her hands trembled violently, but she did as he instructed. He wrapped his belt around her wrists and buckled it tightly. She breathed deeply, then swallowed, relieved and anxious in equal measure.

He drew her closer. With his lips against her ear, he shushed her. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes…sir."

"What's your safe word?"

"Mustang."

"Good. I'm going to show you what happens when you don't follow the rules."

Her body vibrated with anticipation. The fire in her sex screamed
yes
, but her rational mind said
what the fuck, dude?

He guided her over his left knee, her legs positioned between his. In a voice like a caress, he said, "Rest your chest on the bed with your arms over your head."

Her heart thumping, she did as he instructed. She closed her eyes to shut out the frantic whispers.

His hand glided across her shoulder blades and down her spine. "My sweet, beautiful Cyn." A finger slid under the waistband of her panties and lowered them to the floor. He clamped her legs between his own. "Lie still, baby. Don't fight it. I want you to take your punishment like a good girl."

She nodded, her bottom tingling. Her stomach contracted. She had fantasized about this moment a thousand times. Now, here she was, bound and helpless, her body under Trent's control. What if he was rougher than she wanted? She took a calming breath.
I've got my safe word
.

With his left hand on the small of her back, steadying her, his right fell hard against her naked ass.

She gasped and her body clenched. She said she didn't want it to feel like a game, and he definitely wasn't playing. The next blow fell, and she wriggled instinctively, as if trying to get away, but his hold on her was firm.

Each stinging stroke was quickly followed by another. And each time, her clit rubbed against the denim of his pant leg. The rough fabric and rocking motion had her writhing. The blood rushing to her bottom sent fire into her sex. She wanted to come, but Trent hadn't given her permission. She tensed to fight it off.

When her bottom was thoroughly heated, he released her. "On your knees."

She sank to the floor. Her vaginal muscles quivered against the feeling of emptiness. The scent of her arousal hung in the air. "Please, sir, will you fuck me?"

"I would have, naughty girl, if you hadn't acted without permission. Now you have to show me how sorry you are." He stood. "Open my pants."

Excitement blossomed in her chest. With her hands still bound by his belt, she struggled to open the button at his waistband but managed. The zipper was tougher. The bulge from his thick erection kept the zipper from lying flat, and she had barely enough play to maneuver her hands to pull his fly taut. After several tries, she succeeded. She looked up at him, waiting for his next instructions.

He caressed her cheek. "Good girl. Do you know what I want, baby?"

"Yes, sir."

"Do it."

With an effort, she lowered his jeans and his boxers, the leather of the belt caressing her wrists with each movement.

His fat cock sprang free.
Bernadette wasn't kidding.
Cyn reached for it and wrapped her lips around it, teasing the cap before taking him deep.

***

Trent threw his head back, the sudden contact stealing his breath. He didn't deserve this, the angelic girl of his dreams submitting to his darkest fantasies. He looked down at her—so pretty—licking and sucking his cock. Her tongue swirled around the head, her lips rubbed along the shaft. With a finger, she stroked the seam between his balls, then pressed a knuckle into the sensitive skin behind them.

"So good," he cried, threading his fingers through his hair. "Do you like that?"

"Yes, sir. Love your hot cock."

"I want more, baby. Relax your throat. Take me deep."

She gave him more, and he could feel her soft palate as she worked to swallow him down.
Oh shit
—he was on the brink of coming way too fast.

He laid a hand on her shoulder. "Hold still." He fucked her mouth while she went passive, receiving him. He bunched her hair in his hands, sliding his cock over her velvet tongue in long, slow strokes.

The feeling of power was like nothing he had experienced before. He was using her body, but she wanted to be used, wanted him to take his pleasure.

With a pained sigh, he pulled out and ordered her onto the bed while he finished undressing. He retrieved the red silk belt from her bathrobe that lay atop the nightstand. "Lie on your back with your arms over your head."

She smiled and obeyed, giving a contented sigh.

He removed the leather strap binding her wrists and rubbed them to restore circulation. With the strip of silk fabric, he tied her to the headboard. "Spread your legs wide. Show me all of you."

She opened for him, her pink sex like a ripe fruit waiting to be devoured. He quickly sheathed his cock, fighting the urge to finish himself off in a few quick strokes. He crawled onto the bed between her legs.

"Fuck me," she murmured.

He leaned over her. "Beg for it."

"Please, sir, I need your big, hard cock inside me. Make me take it all. Fuck me until I scream with pleasure."

He smiled and slapped the inside of her thigh. She jerked and squealed.

"Beg me to slap you again."

She whimpered.

"Obey me, or you'll feel the leather of my belt instead of my open palm."

She writhed and pulled at her bindings, tension skittering up her spine. She closed her eyes. "Please, sir, slap me again."

He slapped her waiting pussy. She cried out, with pleasure this time.

"You liked that."

"Please fuck me, sir."

He smacked her open folds one more time. She lifted toward him and tugged at her restraints. With a long stroke, he entered her, her body offering no resistance. He seated himself deep, holding there, erection throbbing, while looking down into her eyes. "Hello, gorgeous."

She giggled and wrapped her legs around him, pulling him deeper. Electricity raced up his spine. He wanted to go slow, but need built inside him.

He looked down at her beautiful body. With one hand propping him up, he caressed her breast with the other. He thrust into her, her muscles clenching him tight.
I'm fucking Cyn, and she's fucking me back—and loving every minute of it.
His fifteen-year-old self high fived him.

He angled to brush against her clit, and she moaned. A flush spread from her cheeks to her chest. He picked up the pace until her body clenched and she cried out her release. He let himself go, and his whole body shuddered with sharp waves of pleasure.

He collapsed onto the mattress, heart pounding. He untied Cyn's hands, and she curled up into his body. He covered her forehead with grateful kisses. A sense of contentment settled on him.

After disposing of the condom, he reclined next to her supine body and rubbed her wrists. "How do you feel?"

"Perfect," she mumbled, her breath slowing.

"I didn't hurt you?"

"Mmm. Was good."

"You'd tell me if you didn't like it, right?"

Silence.

"Sleepy," she said at last.

"All right." He got up and dead-bolted the door, turning off the desk lamp on the way back to bed. She snuggled against him, head on his chest, and he stroked her hair a long while, thinking how everything had changed.

Cyn lay in a dreamy state of half-sleep, the weight of an arm draped over her. She fluttered her eyes against the sun's rays and snuggled into Trent. His hand brushed her ass as he drew her close. Desire rolled over her, but no tingle of pain. No lingering effects from their games the night before.

His scent, soft and earthy, filled her nostrils, conjuring the sensations of his body over hers, thrusting into her. Being close to him like this wakened her desire and filled her with a sense of peace she'd never known.

In high school, Trent had been an enigma to her. She'd seen glimpses into his heart and his brilliant mind, but never enough. Now, at last, she was starting to know him—but only starting. A lifetime wouldn't be enough to discover all his secrets.

The night before had been…perfect. Even more than she had imagined. Trent was a natural Dom, attuned to her body. It was as if no time had passed, and they had simply picked up where they left off before college.

What was next for them? They lived in cities three hours apart. His lab experiments tied him to campus. For him to get this weekend away had required help and planning.

She, on the other hand, could write anywhere. Leave Manhattan for the quiet town of Newark, Delaware…It was like the plot of every small town romance she'd ever read, and she hated small town romance. Yet if she wanted to be with Trent, it was the only option, at least until he got his PhD.

The idea settled heavily on her heart. Last night, she had given up her body to Trent. Now, she was contemplating giving up her lifestyle. When she had been on her knees, his cock sliding into her mouth, she felt demeaned…and yet, even now, the memory of it aroused her. A pulse throbbed in her clit, that wanton desire to be bound and used, to be scolded and punished. The concept felt harsh and alien, but her body craved it.

She rested her arm on the pillow above her head. As usual, she was overthinking it. It was just sex. If they wanted to build a relationship that lasted, it would have to be based on more than hormones and power exchange. They would need time to get reacquainted. Figure out if this was real.

Technology would made the distance easier, but Skype was no substitute for touch. A vise squeezed her temples at the prospect of driving the crowded lanes of I-95 on a regular basis. Although, she could listen to an audiobook on the way, so the time wouldn't be wasted. And Trent was worth it.

She turned and traced his clavicle with her lips, dusting it with kisses. In the morning light, he was even handsomer than he had been the night before. A calm had settled over his features, reminding her of the innocent boy she had known all those years ago, but the sharp angles of his chin and brow and cheekbones were all man. His dark hair stuck out in odd directions, and she smoothed it.

The springs squeaked, and he drew her close, his mouth covering hers. The kiss was achingly tender, without urgency. Their bodies intertwined and they simply enjoyed each other, no words needed.

He pushed her hair back from her face. She glowed at the sight of his smile, knowing she had put it there. Maybe leaving her overpriced studio apartment with traffic noise and no view wouldn't be such a sacrifice after all.

His lips on her neck fueled her desire. She pressed her pelvis against his erection. A moan rumbled in his throat. She rolled onto him, rubbing her breasts up and down his chest.

His hands stroked the length of her back. "Hell, Cyn."

She reached for a condom in the nightstand and covered him. His groans drove a surge of power through her. She straddled him, holding her tongue between her teeth to stifle a cry as she took him inside her in a hurried motion. His length filled her, sending tingles up and down her body. One hand worked her breast while the other slid down her belly to rub her clit. Her needy sex clenched around him. She threw her head back, her nerve endings skating a hard edge of desire.

Fingers clutching the headboard, she rode him, the box springs adding power to her strokes. An orgasm ripped through her. He pumped hard, aftershocks rocking her as he claimed his own release. When their panting bodies stilled, she lay flat against his chest and nibbled his earlobe.

"Amazing, babe." He grabbed some tissues and wrapped up the condom. He rolled her onto her back. "Can't believe I get to touch this beautiful body."

His kisses danced over the skin of her belly and breasts. Her body went pliant, a flush of happiness blooming in her veins. She threaded her fingers through his hair, then caressed the nape of his neck and his shoulders.

He slid up and pressed his mouth to hers, tongues gliding together. "I should punish you for topping me."

She cringed, heaviness settling on her diaphragm. "Trent, don't."

He sat up and scowled. "Don't what?"

"Spoil the moment. There's a time for role-playing games, and a time for romance."

He crossed his arms, his jaw set hard.

She traced his bicep with kisses. "Don't tell me you didn't enjoy that."

"I don't get it. What happened to the rules?"

"There are no rules. Just how we feel in the moment."

"Last night, you wanted me to punish you. Today, I bring it up, and you get mad."

"I didn't get mad. I was blissed out, and you took off in a different direction."

"I'm not a mind reader. How should I know what you want when?"

"BDSM is foreplay to me."

"That's what I was doing. I was hoping we could go again," he teased.

She smiled and kissed him. "I need to take a shower now if we're meeting Rick and Jordan for breakfast at nine."

"Screw breakfast." He pulled her close. "I'll text them we'll meet them for lunch."

"I want to see them. Besides, I need a break. Three orgasms in twelve hours is my limit." She tousled his hair and slid out of bed. He frowned, and a glare hardened his eyes. 

***

Trent picked up his iPad and opened Safari. He had showered and shaved in his own room, since his toiletries were there. Cyn didn't want them arriving in the lobby together at breakfast, anyway. She hoped to break the news to Rick gently.

Trent didn't give a shit what Rick thought about him and Cyn hooking up. It had been five years since they had been a couple, and Rick hadn't appreciated her when he had her.

Opening a new browser tab, he searched on "BDSM submissive." Last night, Cyn's desire for him to hurt her had thrilled and terrified him. Now he didn't know what to think. He'd let himself go, playing out all his fantasies, and she'd loved every minute. Her body had molded to his will without resistance.

Then this morning, the wall had come down.

What did that mean? Was this a weekend fling to her?

The muscles in his neck stiffened, forming a dull ache in the back of his skull. He had thought she wanted a relationship, but maybe he had read the signals wrong. Could he have come this close, only to lose her?

He had thirty-six hours to persuade her he could be the man she needed, the Dom she needed, before they went home to their separate lives. His experiences with Roxana hadn't prepared him for Cyn's vicissitudes. He needed to learn more about the submissive mindset.

He quickly read some articles he found online in the few minutes before he was supposed to meet his friends for breakfast. At two minutes before nine, he stood, put on his belt, and went down to the lobby.

***

Cyn hovered outside the breakfast room. Her friends hadn't shown yet. She recognized a few people but didn't really want to talk. She drifted out of their line of sight. The thought of mingling knotted her stomach like a cat's cradle.

She didn't understand this impulse to isolate herself. She liked people—they fascinated her. But sometimes, she couldn't figure them out, couldn't find the right words to relate to them. That was the great thing about writing. If she got it wrong the first time, she could revise until she got it right.

After she had left the ad agency to write fiction full time, her life became solitary. One reason she stayed in New York, rather than moving to her parents’ guest house in Connecticut, was to live surrounded by the pulse of the city. In the suburbs, she could spend days never leaving home. In her studio with the tiny refrigerator, she had to go to the market nearly every day. Getting out, seeing people, experiencing life was vital to a storyteller, no matter how introverted.

Yet she was uncomfortable with
these
people, the ones she went to high school with. After transferring there sophomore year, she had tried to fit in. Despite the three years she'd lived in this town as a teenager, it had never felt like home.

Hell, she wasn't sure what
home
felt like. She'd spent her entire childhood moving around—Austin, Charlotte, San Diego, and finally this nowhere town in Pennsylvania. She'd been in Manhattan for the five years since graduation, and that was the longest she'd lived anywhere.

Her gaze wandered toward the elevators, watching for Trent. She sat on a couch near the front desk and checked her book sales on her phone. With eight novellas out in eight months, she was becoming known as an author. November was a notoriously slow month, though. She was looking forward to the December holiday buyers.

A shadow fell over her, a figure blocking the light. She looked up, and Trent smiled at her, looking fit in jeans and a knit navy-blue shirt that hugged his shoulders and biceps. A lock of black hair hung low on his forehead, skimming one brow.

She couldn't get enough of that handsome face with those sharp eyes and wicked smile. He didn't have Rick's smooth, drop-dead-gorgeous thing going on, which was actually kind of boring once you got used to it. Trent's face had character—a rough, dangerous quality that Rick utterly lacked.

She rose and stood close to Trent without touching him. An electric charge sparked between them. The rumbling in her belly had nothing to do with hunger—not for food, at least.

"We should get a table," he said.

She nodded, and he guided her into the breakfast room with a hand at the small of her back. A sense of security washed over her. As long as he was watching out for her, everything would be fine.

Or so she thought, until they passed a bleached-blond former cheerleader who called out, "Hey, Cyn, heard that Madison Avenue job didn't work out." The smirk on her fake-tanned face raised the ire in Cyn's chest. Her stomach bottomed out, and her mouth grew dry.

She'd left the ad agency voluntarily. In less than a year as an author, her monthly income was comparable to what it had been as a copy writer. She was living her dream, yet Malibu Barbie had painted it as a failure.

Her dad hadn't been happy when she'd left the agency, after he'd pulled strings to get her the job. She loved the creativity, but the adrenaline-fueled environment left her jumpy. Her appetite faded, and she struggled to sleep. As an independent author, she set her own schedule, her own deadlines. She didn't answer to anyone but her fans.

Trent's hand stroked her back. "Don't let her get to you," he said in her ear.

Tears stung her eyes. "I was never anything but nice to her."

"You're nice to everyone, Cyn. It makes you an easy target. She's locked in that high school mindset—you've risen above it. You were always above it."

A sigh opened the constriction in her chest. If people whose lives were smaller than hers comforted themselves by mocking her, she could live with that.

She swallowed around the knot in her throat.

Trent chose a table for four in the corner near the window. "You sit. I'll get you some breakfast."

"I can get my own breakfast."

He gave her a sweet smile, but his eyes darkened. "Let me take care of you." His tone warned her not to argue.

"Yes, sir," she teased.

A flush rose from his neck to his cheeks. She bit back a smirk.

He went to the breakfast bar, and she checked her email, watching for Rick and Jordan. She spotted them and waved. While they loaded their plates, Trent returned and took the chair at her side. He placed an ample portion of fruit, yogurt, and a hard-boiled egg in front of her.

"That yogurt has sugar in it."

He looked her squarely in the eyes. "Try again."

A fire blazed in her belly. "Thank you, sir," she murmured.

He brushed his hand across her back.

Jordan joined them, looking tired. He flinched a little when Rick sat next to him. That was strange. The two of them had been friends since first grade, and usually had an easy rhythm between them. Had college changed that?

"What time did you guys leave the party last night?" she asked.

"Not long after you did," Jordan said. "Rick and I…um, went to his room to watch the Sixers game."

"You weren't entranced by the company of the Class of 2008?" she asked.

Rick, across from her, patted her hand. "You didn't have a good time at the reunion, did you."

"I didn't come to see the Class of 2008. Most of them hated me, anyway. I came to see you guys."

"They didn't hate you, Cyn," Trent soothed.