DomNextDoor (2 page)

He took hold of one of her nipples, lightly pinching.

“Harder.” She said then ground her lips against his. The
combination of the two kinds of pressure sent her into orbit. Tristy whimpered.
Was it appropriate to beg? Surely he would appreciate such a gesture.

His hands moved to her thighs. She spread them as best she
could. He had worked his way beneath the hem of her skirt.

“Are you wet for me?” He whispered the words directly into
her ear.

“You know I am.”

Now he pulled her close, lifting her buttocks so she was
tight against him. They still had clothes on but it was better than nothing.

At least she could feel his cock and grind against it even.

“You’re a little minx,” he said. “You keep it up and you’re
gonna get taken right here on the floor.”

“As you wish.”

That added boosters to his sex drive.

Carrying her like a rag doll, he took her to the table.
Scattering the contents, he sat her down.

“I’m gonna fuck you so hard, Tris.”

“You better,” she hissed back.

“You won’t walk straight for a fucking week, babe.”

“Do it,” she taunted. “Do me like one of your submissive
sluts.”

His gaze narrowed. She had definitely pushed his buttons.
Which was kind of funny because didn’t that mean she was controlling him and
not the other way around?

Grant didn’t bother taking down her panties. As soon as he
had managed to lift her skirt enough he simply tore them off.

Tris’ pussy flooded in reaction. To be wanted this fucking
badly by a man like Grant was the greatest aphrodisiac in the world.

With one hand between her thighs he used the other to open
his jeans and free his cock. He took a condom from his pocket and sheathed his
hard shaft. She ached to help but there was that whole Dom thing.

Phooey.
Tristy made a play for him, reaching for his
engorged shaft. He took her wrist and bent it up behind her back, not painfully
but enough to let her know who was boss.

“Maybe a little confinement will help you follow directions,
missy.”

She arched her back, whimpering, wanting her pussy to make
contact again. “I beg you to use me, Grant…use me, use your helpless slave.”

Grant’s cock rammed into her. She took him to the hilt in
one push.

“Oh yeah, oh fuck yeah,” she exclaimed.

Grant pulled halfway out and penetrated her again even
harder. Letting her arm go, he braced himself on the edge of the table.

Tristy moved forward, clinging to his neck. She shivered and
trembled, her body already racked with the precursors to climax. He knew
exactly how to work her. His teeth sank into her shoulder and his cock thrust
in and out with just the right upward angle to send waves of ecstasy to her
swollen clitoris.

Again and again.

Wow, was he ever a good lover.

Make that a fantastic lover. The best one she’d ever had in
her life.

“Come,” she cried out. “Come with me.”

She squeezed her pussy muscles, feeling the sides of his
swollen shaft. She could feel the heat and the surging blood. It was going to
happen any minute, any second.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes.

She was ready. Her body was pent up and charged as if she’d
been waiting a thousand years for this. She wrapped her ankles around his firm
buttocks, feeling the pumping muscles.

All at once he started to growl, a low deep sound like a
lion. Then he angled back his head and she saw the vein on his neck protruding.

Exactly as she’d imagined him, exactly as she’d dreamed and
fantasized.

“Tristy,” he called her name.

She melted as he slammed home one final time, the jets
erupting hot and thick from his thrusting, conquering cock. She could feel it,
even with the condom.

Tristy responded with a loud moan and a sigh as the pleasure
washed over her, palpable and so intense she nearly fainted.

Explosions without sound, fire without heat, an internal
world of utter absorption, on the edge of pleasure so sharp it pricked her in a
million tiny places.

Never had she had an orgasm like that. Not with any man in
any scenario. No matter how much she was supposed to have been in love.

If this was sex with Grant on a table top, what would it be
like in a bed, taking their time?

Grant continued to come, allowing her to move into a second
and finally a third orgasm. He held on to her as she came back to earth, her
body tingling and hot to the touch.

His combination of gentleness and firmness made her want to
cry. Why was it again that they couldn’t be compatible? Was it that big a deal?

Maybe she could fake the BDSM.

She had certainly had to fake enough other things in her
previous relationships.

“Wow,” he whispered. “Just wow.”

“You said it, hot shot,” she breathed, still weak and limp
against his body.

“How’s your finger?” he teased.

“What finger?”

Grant chuckled, lifting her in his arms.

She felt a flash of terror. Was he going to make her get
dressed and go home? “Grant, can I stay overnight?”

He frowned. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I’ll sleep on the couch,” she said quickly. Not that she
intended to stay there.

“But your apartment is three hundred feet away.”

“I don’t want to be alone.”

“My couch isn’t any less lonely than your own bed,” he
pointed out.

She hugged his neck eagerly. “Is that an invitation to sleep
in yours? I accept. Thanks.”

He shook his head. “What am I going to do with you,
girlfriend?”

Anything you want, as long as it’s kinky.

Chapter Two

Grant had never felt so possessive of a woman in his life.
Every fiber of his being told him to protect this fragile creature he was
holding.

He knew it was wrong, though. This was a dangerous road and
he should have stopped tonight from happening before it started.

If she had any idea what it did to him, watching the way all
those jerks treated her, seeing her come over here time and again after getting
her heart trampled on.

The mutual attraction had been clear since the beginning.
But she wasn’t his kind.

Or was she?

For play-acting Tris had done pretty damn good as the novice
submissive finding herself in the arms of her Dominant.

Maybe it was more than an act. Deep down, what if she was a
sub? Grant pushed the thought from his mind as he carried the sleepy, purring
blonde down the hall to his bedroom where he was about to put her in his bed.

Real genius idea that was.

Tristy was already half asleep by the time he laid her down.
She was flushed and so totally sweet and sexy looking. She barely stirred as he
took off her skirt and put her under the covers.

The hell of it was, she was such a terrific girl—funny,
smart, no drama, total relationship material.

If not for the one little thing between them. Grant couldn’t
be with a woman without a D/s component. He might lust after Tristy and
fantasize over her, both of which he had done a hundred times over, but he
could never be with her in real life.

And yet he just had been.

Consider it an anomaly. Something never to be repeated.

Grant considered putting her in one of his old T-shirts but
he decided against it for fear of waking her up. Best to let her be. Let her
sleep off the sex.

And in the morning everything would look clear.

Or so he hoped.

He debated leaving her there and going to the couch himself.
In the end he stayed with her though he kept well over to his side of the bed,
making sure not to risk touching her.

Because if he did there was no telling what might happen
next.

* * * * *

Tristy had not meant to fall asleep. When she awoke again it
was dark, pitch black with only a sliver of light coming through the curtains
to illuminate the room.

It was silvery and terribly romantic.

For a minute she thought she was alone and then she heard
him breathing—the strong masculine sounds beside her.

Her heart raced and her breathing went shallow. So she had
made it to his bed after all. Turning over softly so as not to wake him, Tristy
appraised the situation.

Grant was on his side facing away from her. His back was
bare. The sheet had gathered at his solid, narrow waist, emphasizing even more
the god-like dimensions of his body—powerful thighs outlined under the white
silk, an arm casually tossed behind him. The man was a vision of male
perfection.

And a short while ago he had made love to her.

With any luck it would happen again. Soon.

She was tempted to reach right out and touch him but she had
to plan it right. If he woke too soon it would be game over. She had to string
him along, seduce him in his sleep.

Slowly, quietly she inched over. Conveniently he had left
her naked. Her nipples peaked in anticipation of contact. She could feel the
heat between her thighs.

This time would be so much better. If it was possible to
improve on what had already felt so damn good. The best sex of her life. Who
could blame her for wanting more? Least of all the man who’d given it to her.

Lightly, delicately, she leaned across and kissed his
shoulder blade. He barely stirred as he made a low sound, like the masculine
version of a sigh.

Was he dreaming?

It had better be about her.

Tristy bit her lower lip. Feeling bolder she trailed her
fingertips down his arm. He made more noises and stirred.

That was when she made her move, kissing his back and
pressing her breasts against him. With one hand at his waist she lifted herself
to whisper in his ear.

She told him what she would like to do to him and what she
would like him to do to her. Tris moved her hand forward, wanting to reach his
cock. Her fingers itched. She knew he was already aroused, she just needed the
evidence.

Grant moved so fast she never saw him coming.

Before she could think of drawing another breath he had her
pinned on her back, her wrists over her head.

He regarded her, eye brow raised.

“Tristy, what exactly do you think you’re doing?”

Tristy gave him her best gotta-love-me-because-I’m-so-cute
smile. “Would you believe I was looking for a contact lens?”

“You don’t wear contacts.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot.”

Honestly, he looked adorable trying to be so stern. She
could just kiss him to death.

“I knew this was a mistake, letting you stay.”

“Oh come on, Grant. I promise I’ll be good. Pretty please?”

“You can’t help yourself and you know it, Tris.”

“Okay fine,” she acknowledged. “Then I promise to be bad.”

“That I can believe.”

Tristy lifted her leg and rubbed it against his thigh. “You
just need to stop fighting so much.”

“I’m doing this for both of us.”

“Why? Because you’re worried your super sex powers will turn
me into a walking zombie?”

“I don’t want you to get hurt.”

She laughed. “Trust me, you could never hurt me. It’s not in
your nature.”

“You aren’t submissive.”

“I sure liked what we did before,” she countered.

“That was…different.”

He was trying to avoid the movements of her body, the press
of her pelvis. The sheet was bunched between them but that was little
protection. He might have her pinned but the price was a forced closeness
between them. Grant was as trapped as she was.

“I’m serious, Tris.”

The way he talked—the stern but loving tone—made her even
wetter. He cared about her. Outside of bed and in it.

“Make love to me again,” she said.

“No. And don’t try to change my mind.”

“Tie me,” she said. “Spank me, whatever you have to.”

“Damn it, Tris.”

Was she making it hard on him? Good. She wanted it to be
impossible.

“We owe each other tonight. The
whole
night,” she
pointed out their semi-agreement from earlier. “No weirdness in the morning.”

He frowned but she could tell he was thinking.

“There is one thing we could try.”

“Anything,” she urged.

“Don’t move,” he said as he released her and lifted off her.

“Where am I going to go? It’s not like I have any hot
dates.” She giggled, nervous excitement getting the better of her again.

“Lucky for both of us, we barely survived your last one.”

Which is why I need to start dating you.
“I ought to
have you go after some of these losers. Or better still put the fear of God
into them ahead of time.”

“I would rather they not come around at all,” he said.

She watched him at his dresser, the broad shoulders, the
tight waist and perfectly formed buttocks. More than enough to scare off one of
her dates from hell.

The fact that he was a cop on top of everything else didn’t
hurt either. Every morning Tristy would listen, hear him leaving and she would
say a quick, secret prayer and hope he’d be okay.

And she would try to be around when he got back too. He
worked odd hours. She tried to keep track of shifts without letting him know
she was doing it. It was kind of sad that no one was there to welcome him home
each time and kiss him goodbye. No police officer should have to go out there
alone like that.

But he seemed to like it just fine.

And she wasn’t his type so she didn’t push it. So why did
she miss him when they weren’t together and why did she feel herself light up
when they were?

Grant came back from the dresser with a blindfold and some
silk cords.

“What?” he said.

She must have been staring. “Nothing,” she said, moist eyed.

“If you want to go, say the word.”

“No,” she said forcefully. “I want to stay.”

“Okay then. I need you to close your eyes and lift your
head.”

The blindfold was velvet and it felt exquisite going on. The
material smoothed over her eyes, bathing her world in total darkness.

And total vulnerability too.

Now she was dependent.

And helpless.

Oh god, it was exquisite.

She could hear Grant—his steady breathing, the warmth of his
body—her every sense heightened. He was sitting on the edge of the bed right
beside her. “This is some light bondage, to give you an idea.”

The cords were slipped over each of her wrists. It was a
gentle but tight sensation, a strange mix. She could feel the ropes pulling
tight. He must have been tying them to the bedposts.

What about my legs?
Tristy wondered.
Will he tie
them as well?

No. He had a different plan in mind for them.

A different, more subtle kind of bondage.

He made her
pretend
.

Not being tied was just as bad, if not worse, than being
tied. Because as he began to touch and tease her above the waist she wanted to
move below but he kept telling her no.

His voice was the real bondage.

The real domination of her flesh.

Grant trailed kisses down her arms to her shoulders. He
nuzzled her neck, he touched her cheeks, stroking. She never knew where he’d
strike next and he was relentless.

When he laid the flat of his hand on her belly, she moaned
aloud. Her breath quickened. She undulated, lifting her stomach.

“Be still,” he whispered, his words stinging hot in her ear.

She moaned, her mouth dry as a desert, needing his kisses.
There was so much she needed, so much to beg for.

The first time his fingers found her breasts she went
through the roof, like explosives going off. Her nipples felt tight and
throbbing.

He knew how to work her perfectly. She dug her heels in,
lifting her pelvis, desperate to be touched between her legs.

His hand found her buttock instead and delivered a light
slap.

She gasped in surprise.

So this was erotic punishment.

Not at all what she’d imagined, the mild sting was mixed
with pleasure.

Curious, she wanted more.

“Down,” he warned.

Tristy obeyed and her body was instantly filled with a
thrill of a different kind. Surrender, delicious and sweet, but within safe
boundaries. She had the word to stop things, plus she trusted Grant to never
even come close to making her use it.

It was like this win-win situation, and she was walking the
line of utter possession by a strong alpha male.

The bottom line was Grant’s absolute undivided attention,
his guidance in making her what he wanted and needed for this experience. But
he wasn’t trying to change her or get in her head.

This was just a game.

But Grant was anything but a player.

“Good girl.” For a reward he touched her clit.

She moaned at the pleasure radiating from her center like
concentric waves that reached from the tips of her toes all the way to the top
of her head and pooled in the hot lush spaces in between.

“Spread your legs wider,” he said.

Tristy complied, baring herself completely.

He applied his fingers then sank them deep inside her.

“You are so fucking incredible,” he said, making her well up
with emotion in reply.

He was pretty incredible too.

“It’s time to focus on your pleasure,” he said. “And I want
you to come as often and as loud as you like.”

Tristy tensed at first, wondering what he intended to do.
Then she felt his body sliding down hers, his hands traveling the length of her
thighs.

He wasn’t going to…

Yes he was.

He kissed her inner thigh, rocketing her with anticipation.
The sensation was hot and cold at once, hard and soft.

She clenched her fists, unable to budge her arms an inch.

Grant moved between her legs. Then he moved his mouth to
touch her delicate labia.

Tristy wanted to cry out from the sweet joy.

She’d had only two other guys willing to do this and they
hadn’t been very good. One was way too tentative, as if she would break if he
touched too hard and the other kept checking his watch. Talk about a turn off.

Not Grant. He was here with her because he wanted to be. His
every action showed tenderness.

“Don’t fight the pleasure,” he warned.

As if she would turn down a free orgasm?

Grant rolled his tongue and dabbed her clit. It felt like a
tiny cock, probing, pressing. Then he worked her sex lips, lightly tracing
along the rim, up and down. She orgasmed in response, the sweet liquid dripping
from her pussy.

He lapped it up.

She cried as he pressed harder, burying his face. Her thighs
clenched the sides of his head, greedily pulling him into her. At the same
time, she wanted him to slow down.

It was all happening so fast. Like a tsunami crashing down.
Grant was relentless, assaulting her with pleasure.

“Oh god I’m going to…”

She never had time to say the word as the orgasm ripped into
her, tearing her body asunder, the cascading waves of ecstasy almost too much
to bear.

But Grant had only begun to punish her with pleasure. No
sooner had she caught her breath than he began all over again, lightly stroking
with his tongue, pressing, licking and nibbling.

Out of her mind, she begged but she had no choice but to
come and come again.

Grant left her wasted, limp and sweating in her bonds.

All this without ever touching her with his cock.

“Fuck me?” she whispered.

“Not yet.”

A chill passed down her spine. What did he intend?