Chapter Eleven
Austin
“Your hand needs to stay on my lower back, Mr. Massey.”
“I apologize, Ms. DeLuca. I’m focusing so much on my feet that I forget about my hand placement.”
I look down and give her a smile that’s more a display of teeth than an offer of charm and humility. Since I’ve made no move to rectify the problem, I allow her to reach back and raise my hand up from where I let it slip to her ass. Correction: I put it there purposely.
Emi gives me a tight smile and continues to unnecessarily lead me through the steps of a samba. I know how to do this dance, just like I know all the other forms of ballroom from years of dancing with my mother. I could lead Emi around this empty studio as easily as breathing. But that’s not the fantasy we’re playing out right now.
Tonight, I’m a guy who’s hired her to teach him how to ballroom dance. A guy who’s been watching her from afar and getting more obsessed with her by the day. A guy who plans on using this lesson as an excuse to get what he wants from her.
It’s easy to imagine someone becoming obsessed with her; she’s always beautiful, but in her element like this, she’s absolutely ethereal. Her hair flows in black waves down her back, taunting my hands with its freedom. A sleek white tank top with crisscross spaghetti straps hugs her unbound breasts, and a glance at her nipples peaking against the tight fabric proves her outward discomfort with me is all for show. The filmy pink skirt swirls around her thighs as her hips twist, her heels clicking on the hardwood with every step we take across the dance floor.
As our bodies move together, I give her a reprieve and keep the rigid form without taking any liberties. My plans for her are as much a dance as the one she’s pretending to teach me. There’s a give and take, a push and pull. A time to let her lead and a time I’ll force her to follow.
I let her spin out, then pull her back in harder than necessary, causing her to slam into the harder planes of my body. She tries to push against my chest to put the proper distance between us, but I don’t relent in my hold on her.
“Mr. Massey, please,” she says softly. “This isn’t professional.”
The delicious little tremor in her voice coaxes my predator closer to the surface. I feel him yawn and stretch inside me, slowly waking and filling my body with the merciless animal who gets off on the pleas of its prey. And just as I’m changing, so will she. Not quite yet, though. During our games, she pretends to fight her change for a while. But eventually the regal princess slips away, and a beautiful doll stands in her place. My beautiful doll.
“No, it’s not.” My voice lowers to match the more insidious nature of the man now standing before her. The man who walked into her studio doling out charm and appropriate deference to her authority is snuffed out. Now she is the one who will defer to my authority over her body, according to my whims. “But then you knew this wasn’t going to be a proper dance lesson, didn’t you?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about. That’s what you signed up for. You hired me to teach you how to dance.”
“I signed up for the pretense, but you and I both know this isn’t what we’re here for.”
She tries to take a step back, but it’s no use. “I think it’s time for you to leave, Mr. Massey.”
“Master.”
“What?”
“Instead of Mr. Massey, I think I’d like to hear you call me Master.”
I’ve never requested this before, but it feels right for this particular character I’m playing. I wasn’t sure how it’d go over with Emi, but this close I can see her pupils swallowing the dark chocolate of her irises and the pulse beating a rapid tattoo beneath the delicate skin of her throat. And even if I couldn’t see those signs of her arousal, the almost imperceptible tilt of her hips to connect her pussy with my thigh speaks volumes. My little doll is practically purring from the idea.
“I’m not calling you Master or anything else. We’re done here.”
In the blink of an eye, I turn so that her back is against the huge wall of mirrors, the ballet barre the perfect height to press into her lower back, keeping her pelvis thrust forward for me. “Yes, you will,” I growl against her ear, “and we’re not even close to being done.”
She injects a bit of steel into her voice. “Get the hell off me.”
“Make me.” I chuckle, moving lower to bite that sensitive spot over her racing pulse. She gasps so prettily, making my cock lengthen behind the pathetic barrier of my dress slacks. I reward her with a soothing lick of my tongue over the faint bite mark. Sadly, it’ll disappear in another few minutes, but I would never mark Emi where she could be questioned or ridiculed.
Despite the music still playing through the speakers, I hear the tiny squeak she makes and feel her shuddering exhale that fans across my neck. Fuck, I love it when she can’t keep up the pretense of hating my touch. It’s like an injection of jet fuel to my system, and it takes every ounce of control I have to not go straight to my end game and sink inside her. Instead, I can either pretend I didn’t hear it, or I can use it against her.
“Mmm, I knew you wanted this, pet,” I say, going with option two. I pull back just enough to look into her eyes as I grip her face in my hand to hold her steady. “All night you’ve been fucking me with those sexy eyes, and now you want to play coy with me. But your body tells me exactly what you want, doesn’t it?”
“No,” she says, trying to shake her head. “Please.”
I’ve gotten good at reading Emi, and she’s mastered the art of words or phrases that sound like stop but really mean go. It’s sheer genius, really. Sometimes I think she’s better at this whole thing than I am.
“Please,” she repeats with more insistence, begging me so sweetly.
My free hand snakes between our bodies and cups her pussy over her gauzy skirt. “How’s this for hand placement?”
She makes a tiny noise of protest even as she pushes into my touch. I can feel the heat from her arousal on my palm, I can smell it in the air. It makes me ravenous for the taste of her, but part of the game for me is denying myself what I would typically do as her lover. I’ll have to wait until I get her back to my place after this. Then I’ll make her come with my mouth so many times she won’t have the strength to get out of bed till morning.
“No? Then how about this. You get on your knees and suck me off, and if you’re a good girl about it, I’ll not only fuck you quick, but I won’t destroy your reputation with the video my phone is taking of us over there.”
She narrows her eyes. “All that will prove is that you forced me.”
“Not once I edit it. It’ll look like you make a habit out of fucking your clients.” I reach down to release my belt, the metal sounds of the buckle causing her to lick her lips in anticipation. “Now get on your knees and show me how thankful you are for my mercy.”
Emi sinks gracefully to the hardwood floor. Once my pants are opened, I reach in and free my aching erection. Thick and vascular, with a reddish-purple crown, my dick looks as mean as the man I’m playing.
Peering up at me through her lashes, Emi’s limpid brown eyes plead with me. “That thing’s a monster. There’s no way I can take all of it.”
I bare my teeth in a fake smile. “Probably not. But it’ll be fun as hell to try.” Fisting her hair at the back of her head, I give it a sharp tug, lighting up her scalp how she likes. “Beg me for it.” She hesitates and swallows hard like she’s trying to work up the courage to obey my command. “I said beg me.”
“Please give me your cock.”
Another quick yank on her hair. She gasps, and her lids lower to half-mast. “Please what?”
“Please, Master,” she says breathily. “Please, Master, give me your cock.”
“Much better, pet. Now open up, and remember, no teeth. Or you’ll be sorry.”
Emi opens her mouth wide, and I use my free hand to guide the swollen head inside. Wet heat sears my straining flesh, the intense pleasure causing me to hiss through clenched teeth. I keep my thrusts shallow at first, giving her the chance to loosen up and find our rhythm. But it isn’t long before I’m pushing deep enough for the head to hit the back of her throat.
“That’s it. Good girl,” I rasp. “Goddamn, you’re so fucking hot with your lips stretched around my cock.”
I pick up the pace a little, pumping my hips in and out, reveling in the way she stiffens her tongue to run along the sensitive underside of my dick. Her nostrils flare with her shallow breaths as she fights off her natural gag reflex. It took some practice, but now she doesn’t have a problem taking me all the way to the root, and it’s sexy as fuck.
Now craving a demonstration of her newfound talent, I palm the back of her head with both hands. “Deeper,” I growl as she stares up at me with a needy desire that sets me on fire. “All the way down.”
I pull her in until I feel myself breach the opening of her throat and her nose is pressed into my lower abdomen. Her hands grip the back of my thighs, and I doubt she even registers the fact that she’s holding me in place, too. Her eyes water as she swallows around the head of my cock. I curse a blue streak and almost come on the spot before pulling her completely off of me.
Emi drags in huge gulps of air and uses the back of her hand to wipe the saliva off her chin. Glaring at me, she says, “That good enough for you, asshole?”
I almost groan in appreciation but manage to keep my composure as I haul her to her feet. Grabbing the sides of her face, I growl, “Shut the fuck up,” then crush my mouth to hers. My tongue plunges inside and wrestles for control. Her nails bite into my ass cheeks as I press her back against the wall of mirrors again, though I’m careful not to put too much pressure where the barre hits her.
When I finally pull away, we’re both out of breath, our chests heaving with the effort of dragging precious air into our lungs. I tilt her face up more as I loom over her like a god with his toy, my thumbs smearing her eye makeup across her temples. Then I move to her mouth, the pad of my thumb pressing on the swollen pillow of her lower lip and dragging it to the side as though smearing imaginary lipstick. I like her lips natural, though. I like to see them change from pale pink to cherry red from my bruising kisses. She’s always gorgeous, but like this, she’s a work of art.
“My pet is such a beautiful disaster,” I muse.
“I’m not your anything,” she bites out.
“That’s where you’re wrong.” I rip her tank in front enough to expose her tits with their luscious protruding nipples. My mouth is dying to suck and nibble on them, but it’s another thing I’m holding off on till later.
I spin her to face the mirror and shove the elastic waistband of her skirt down to pool around her heels. “Keep your hands on the barre and your back arched,” I say as I push between her shoulder blades and pop her hips back a little to get a nice curve in her body and her pussy presented to me. “Yeah, just like that with your legs together.”
The lips of her sex are soft and bare and glistening with arousal, peeking out from between her thighs and begging for my touch. I use my index finger to spread her juices, then probe her, rimming the entrance to her pussy and smirking when she clenches down on the tip of my digit.
“Oh God,” she gasps. “Please.”
A couple of weeks ago we finally had the birth control and clean test discussion. Not having to worry about condoms is convenient when you’re role playing that you don’t give a shit about someone, but that’s not the best part. Feeling Emi bare is a sensory ambrosia I can’t describe. It’s like having every good sensation ever created squeezing my cock. I’d never gone without condoms before her, and honestly, I’m glad. It’s been a long damn time since I’ve had any kind of “first” when it comes to sex. Sharing this one with Emi just feels right.
Unable to wait any longer, I grab my dick and rub the head along the seam of her pussy, lubing it up as I push inside. Once I’m notched at her entrance, I hold onto her shoulder and drive all the way home. She cries out and I roar, both of us swamped with the pleasure of finally being joined in the most carnal sense. I don’t waste time letting her adjust or holding still until the pressure of my building orgasm wanes. I pull back and sink back in, pistoning my hips faster and faster.
“Yes,” I hiss. “So fucking tight. Like a goddamn vise.”
The slap of flesh against flesh is music to my ears, as are her moans and unintelligible words spilling from her lips. Our gazes lock in the mirror and I know that our game is now obsolete. Neither of us cares anymore to keep up the pretense, we’re both too lost in the feel of my body invading hers.
I suddenly need to be face-to-face with her, need to feel her, skin to skin. Pulling out, I yank my shirt over my head, not even bothering to unbutton the damn thing, and toss it somewhere behind me. I spin her around and bring our chests together, loving how the stiff peaks of her nipples feel on my chest. Hoisting one of her legs onto my hip, I bend at the knees to line myself up with her entrance and then straighten, impaling her with my thick cock.
Her head drops back on a shout of “ohGodyes” as I fuck into her again and again. The ends of her hair tickle my forearm where it’s banded around her waist for support, but I need her focus back on me. I need to be able to see her eyes and know that she’s seeing me now and not some nameless assaulter.
“Look at me, Emi.” Slowly, she lifts her head and meets my gaze. She’s so fucking beautiful. Flushed cheeks, heavy lids over glazed eyes, puffy lips…and she’s all mine. “Good girl. Keep your eyes on me, just like that.”
“Feels s-so good,” she cries out between the force of my thrusts. “Gonna…come…”
“Right there with you, baby. I’m right fucking there. Come for me.”
Fall for me.
My heart squeezes in my chest as the thought slams through me at the same time our climaxes hit us like freight trains. Waves of white-hot pleasure crash over me, and my muscles bunch with every jet of come I shoot deep into Emi’s body, marking her as mine with every drop. I hold her close, supporting her through the aftershocks making her tremble in my arms.
When she finally droops against me with a depleting exhale, I force myself to pull out, severing our physical connection. I cup the side of her face and place a gentle kiss on her lips.
“You okay?” Sometimes I wonder if she ever gets sick of me asking her this, but I don’t care. Her well-being, both physically and emotionally, is the most important thing to me. That would be true if we were in a strictly vanilla relationship, so it goes without saying that it’s even more on my mind whenever we have a play session.
A lazy smile spreads across her face, reminding me of someone on really good pain meds. “That was so hot.”
“I completely agree,” I say, kissing her one last time. “Let’s go get cleaned up. Can you stand on your own?”
She nods once with confidence. “Totally.” I start to let her go but catch her to me again when her knees buckle. “Whoa,” she giggles. “Then again, maybe not.”
“Not a problem, princess, I got you.”
I sweep her up into my arms, and she sighs, tucking her head into my neck. “My hero.”
Another pang in my chest in the vicinity of my heart. I want to be her hero more than anything, along with her occasional villain. But telling her any of that now runs the risk of chasing her off, so I’m still holding my cards close to the vest.
Carrying her down the hall, I bring her into the women’s locker room and set her down where she can brace herself on a sink while I start one of the showers. Once I’m sure the water is a good temperature, I get rid of what little clothes we have left and get us under the gloriously warm spray.
I take my time soaping her up with my hands while admonishing my cock for wanting more of her so soon. She tries reaching for it at one point, but I lightly knock her hand away. “Behave. Just let me take care of you right now.”
She pouts and makes some kind of harrumph noise but settles into the pampering easily enough. I’ve never done this with or for a woman before, and as I begin lathering her hair with shampoo and massaging her scalp, a deep sense of pride and contentment spreads through me. It makes me feel good to take care of her, to show her how cherished she is. Emi’s come to mean a hell of a lot to me, and I try to let her know with my actions where I’m unable to use my words.
“I’ve been wondering something,” she says as I’m rinsing the soap from her long hair.
“Shoot.”
“I know you said before that there’s no secret trauma in your past or anything, but have you ever tried to figure out why the forced fantasies are your thing?”
“Definitely. For a long time, it bothered the hell out of me and I psychoanalyzed myself to death over it. But I think it’s not as complex as I was first making it out to be.”
“Why do you think it is?”
“From the time I was little, my main identifier has always been ‘good.’ I told you that my mom moved back to Texas to be with family, but they shunned her when she showed up with child and without a husband. It was just me and Mama against the world.”
“Seriously? Austin, that’s awful.”
“Not for me—I’d only ever had my mom, so I never felt that loss—but I saw how sad it made her. Always knowing of the reasons to celebrate or mourn but never being allowed to do any of it with the rest of her family. I decided at a really young age to do everything I could to make up for that loss by being the best son I could be.
“I always helped my mom out, whether it was around the house, at her dance studio, or just doing well in school. She even called me her Mini Hero, and I guess that kind of shaped who I was at my core. As a teen and even during college, I played the role of the good guy, especially with girls. I was either charming them or listening to their problems and offering advice or support.
“Then I became a firefighter, which means I’m automatically perceived as heroic, whether I’m seen pulling someone from a fire or just walking in a store with one of my CFD shirts on.”
“That must be a lot of pressure.”
“Most of the time, it’s fine. I like being the good guy, I like helping people. But yeah, it can be a lot of pressure to keep that up constantly. Playing the villain for a little while is like giving myself a rest. There’s freedom in being the bad guy who only cares about myself and what I want. Sometimes I think that I do as many good things as I can to atone for the part of me that likes doing the bad things.”
Emi turns around and slides her hands up my chest to lock them around the back of my neck. “Lucky for us, I happen to really enjoy those bad things.”
“Princess, that’s the understatement of the year, right there.” I take her mouth for a sensual kiss that quickly turns into a scorcher. “How about we finish cleaning up here and head back to my place for round two? No games this time, though. I have too many things I want to do to you that my darker self can’t have.”
“I’m definitely up for round two. And if you’re incredibly lucky, I might wake you up in the morning with round three.”
I groan just thinking of all the ways she might make good on that promise. “Then let’s go. The faster we get to sleep, the faster you can make that happen.”
We laugh and have fun teasing each other, finishing our shower as we build anticipation for the moment when we’re behind the closed door of my apartment and I can make her dirty all over again. Wash, rinse, and repeat.