Light Switch (8 page)

On the way down the hall, I walked as slowly as I could, listening for any sound that might indicate he was coming after me. At the elevator, my hand hovered over the down button for several long seconds.

No doors opened or closed behind me. No footsteps fell into stride with my pounding heart. Sighing, I pressed the button.

The elevator took its sweet time as it always did. This building had the slowest elevators in the history of technology, but tonight, that bought me a few more moments of listening to the stillness behind me.

The elevator arrived.

Matt didn’t.

I stepped in and leaned against the wall, staring down the vacant hall and hoping.

When the doors closed with a hiss and a dull thud, I closed my eyes and let my head fall back against the wall panel. Frustration and relief vied for dominance, one tightening the knot in my gut while the other tried to untie it. It was probably just as well Matt hadn’t followed me, that we hadn’t given into temptation.

I didn’t want to ruin the sexy façade of secrecy we kept over our odd relationship. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship.

But damn if I didn’t want Matt so bad I could taste him.

Scott set his wine glass on the window sill and adjusted one of his freshly rolled sleeves. Leaning back in the chair beside my window, he looked up at me. I immediately dropped my gaze, focusing on the expanse of carpet between us.

“Tell me your safe words,” he said sharply.

“Red if I want to stop, yellow if I want to back off, Sir.”

“Good.” He paused, regarding me silently for a long moment. I still didn’t look directly at him, nor did he invite me to do so. When he finally spoke, the three words were terse and non-negotiable: “Take everything off.”

I swallowed. “Yes, Sir.” My hands were unsteady as I unbuttoned my blouse. I had no idea what he had planned for tonight. I’d long since given up trying to anticipate because he would stay one step ahead of me anyway. If I expected him to zig, he’d zag. That much I’d learned in the few times we’d played thus far.

As I undressed, I kept my gaze fixed on the floor. I didn’t look at him, and I didn’t dare look out the window for fear Scott would close the shade. Or I’d meet Matt’s eyes and spook him enough that he’d back away. I wanted him to watch, so I didn’t acknowledge him.

I dropped my blouse on the floor beside me. Then my bra. Skirt. Panties. I kicked my shoes out of the way.

And I waited.

For a long, unnerving moment, Scott didn’t move. Though I kept my eyes down, I knew he was looking at me. Looking right at me. Scrutinizing. Searching. Maybe for signs of resistance. Some indication that I hadn’t completely submitted to him. Or maybe he just did it to unsettle me. If that was the case, it was working.

The chair creaked as he pushed himself to his feet. He didn’t speak as he came toward me. I held my breath.

He walked around me, circled me, and I struggled to keep from trembling.

Behind me, he stopped. I jumped when he put his hands on my shoulders. Again when he pulled me back against him. The buttons of his shirt were like cold, solid rivets, and the fabric of his clothes brushing over my naked skin served to remind me just how exposed I was compared to him. I sucked in a breath as his hands drifted down my arms.

His lips touched my ear as he whispered, “You’re under my control now.” Grasping my hips gently, he pulled me closer to him, and I whimpered as the unmistakable ridge of his thick erection pressed against me. “Everything that happens tonight is under my control. Everything. Understood?”

“Yes, Sir,” I breathed.

He kissed the side of my neck and let his hands trail up my sides. One stopped to cup my breast and tease my nipple while the other continued upward. His fingers wrapped around the front of my throat, just above my collarbones.

“Are you nervous, Kristen?”

I swallowed hard. “No, Sir.”

“Don’t lie to me,” he whispered directly into my ear. His thumb ran up and down the side of my neck. “I can feel your heart beating faster and I can hear the way you’re breathing. Answer me truthfully. Are you nervous?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Am I scaring you?”

“No, Sir.”

“Good.” He kissed just below my ear. “I’m not in this for your fear, only your…?”

“Submission, Sir.”

“Good girl.” The hand on my breast moved down, his fingertips tracing a ticklish path over my abdomen. I couldn’t breathe as they continued over my hip and between my thighs. When his fingers found my clit, I sent up a silent prayer of thanks that Scott’s body was still against me because it was the only thing keeping my trembling knees from abandoning me to gravity.

Electricity surged from my pussy every time his fingers moved. He circled a few times in one direction, then made a single, slow arc in the other, then back the first way, daring me to even try to get used to one rhythm before he’d change it again.
Jesus, where did he learn to do that
?

He kissed my neck. “Whatever I say tonight, you’ll do.” His fingers continued teasing my clit as he spoke. “Whatever I do, you’ll accept. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” My voice shook as badly as my knees.

“And, just like last time,” he murmured, letting his lips touch my neck, “you’re not to come until I allow it.” Circle. Circle. Arc. Circle.

I gulped. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl.” After a few more maddening arcs and circles, his fingers left my clit. His hand drifted away from my pussy, then lifted off my body altogether. The hand on my throat released me. When he stepped back, my knees nearly buckled, but I kept myself upright. Barely.

Scott walked around me again, and when he stopped, he faced me.

“Take my shirt off.”

I quickly did as I was told: unbuttoned it, pushed it over his shoulders, tugged the rolled-up sleeves free before drawing them down his arms. When his shirt had fallen to the floor beside my clothes, I dropped my arms to my sides and waited for his next order.

“There’s a condom in the back left pocket of my jeans. Get it out.”

My heart pounded. Willing my hand to be steady, I reached around him and slid my hand into his back pocket. Body heat teased my fingers through denim. Had he been any other man, I’d have taken the opportunity to cop a feel on that gorgeous ass and given him a playful squeeze. Under these circumstances, I didn’t dare.

My fingertips grazed the edge of the foil square, and this was real. We were really going to do this. He was going to fuck me tonight. A nervous shudder caught my breath in my throat.

I brought my hand back, letting it hover between us with my fingers wrapped loosely around the condom.

Scott extended his hand, holding it palm up just inches from mine. “Give it to me.”

Biting my lip, I chanced a look at his face. At his eyes. His steely expression echoed his simple command, and when I dropped my gaze again, his outstretched hand still awaited my obedience.

Drawing a deep breath, I laid the condom in his hand.

Oh yes, we were really doing this.
Tonight
.

Scott turned away and set the condom on the nightstand, keeping it within reach. He faced me again, and we were back to this unsettling quiet. As always, I had no idea what he was going to do next. All I could do was wait, knowing nothing beyond the fact that whatever he did come up with, I would obey.

And, as always, he did the last thing I expected: he gently cupped both sides of my face, kissed my forehead, and stroked my hair. I closed my eyes. The tenderness of his touch was an illusion, something to throw me off and make me drop my guard. It had to be.

Then he kissed me. A long, tender kiss. A lover’s kiss. One minute, his lips formed stern demands, the next they softly moved with mine. The gentle sensuality of his kiss, of him, made my head spin. The warmth of his body against mine. A subtle hint of cologne. The heady sweetness of wine on his tongue. I desperately wanted to run my fingers through his hair and pull him closer, but I didn’t dare touch him unless he bid me to do so.

He broke the kiss. Our eyes met, but I quickly dropped my gaze. We fell into silent stillness again, no sound in the room except our slow, soft breathing and the whisper of his fingers tangling in my hair.

He was planning something. Or he’d already planned it. Something was about to happen, but only Scott knew what. I kept my gaze down, willing myself to stay standing and keep breathing. Every muscle in my body tensed, bracing for whatever his next move might be.

Just relax
, I told myself. I trusted him. He expected me to submit and surrender, and as long as I was wound up like this, I was doing neither.

Taking and releasing a deep breath, I relaxed.

The instant I let my guard down, he tightened his fist in my hair, twisted it, and forced me to my knees. I yelped, as much from surprise as pain, and a cool rush of adrenaline mixed with hot arousal in my blood. The abrasive carpet stung my knees and the tops of my feet, the vague burn reminding me of coarse stubble grazing my neck. His unforgiving grip smarted, and I bit back a moan at the thought of him holding my hair like that while he fucked me.

He didn’t allow me to turn or lower my head. All I could do was look straight ahead, which meant staring at the front of his jeans. It took every bit of restraint I had not to reach up and trace the outline of his erection, but the hand in my hair warned me against doing so. Trying to keep myself calm, I looked at his abs instead, but the sparse line of dark hair below his navel drew my attention right back down.

I expected him to order me to unbuckle his belt. Hoped he would.
Prayed
he would.

He didn’t. Still holding my hair with one hand, he unbuckled his belt with the other. The clang of metal and the hiss of leather made my mouth water. As his belt slipped free of the loops on his jeans, I wondered if he intended to use it for anything tonight.

If he had any intention of using it, though, it would be later on, because he dropped it on the floor with a muffled jingle-thud.

“Don’t move.” He released my hair and stepped back to take off his jeans and boxers. My mouth watered and my heart pounded as he stripped down to nothing. The more I saw of him, the more I wanted him, especially now that I could see
all
of him.

He wasn’t like one of those porn stars with a cock so big it looked like it would break me in half, but he wasn’t lacking at all. Big enough to make it hurt if he wanted it to, and my God, I hoped he wanted it to. Just the thought of having him inside me made my pussy tingle with anticipation. I was on my knees, at his mercy, and in that moment, there was nothing I wouldn’t have done if it meant he’d fuck me.

He gripped my hair again, and with his other hand, stroked himself slowly, just inches from my face. I couldn’t help but lick my lips. Never in my life had I wanted so badly to taste a man’s cock.

“Do you want to suck my cock, Kristen?” he asked.

Yes. God, yes. Please, Sir
. The slow motion of his hand—all the way to the base, up to the head, back down to the base—mesmerized me, kept speech at bay as I thought of the one and only thing my mouth wanted to do right then.

The hand in my hair tightened. “I expect an answer when I ask you a question.”

“I’m sorry, Sir.”

“Now tell me, do you want to suck my cock?”

“Yes, Sir,” I whispered.

“If I gave you a choice,” he said, his voice low and his tone even, “would you rather have my cock in your mouth, or your pussy?”

I closed my eyes as a tremor rippled up my spine. There was no doubt in my mind which option he’d decided upon. He had me on my knees and he was stroking himself inches from my mouth. The decision was made. He wasn’t asking for my choice, but my compliance. Fortunately, I was as eager to accept that option as the other.

“My,” I paused, licking my lips as I fought to form the words. “My mouth, Sir.”

He gave a quiet laugh. Then the hand in my hair pulled up, rendering moot his growled command of, “Stand up.”

Confusion made my heart race the same way arousal made my knees shake. It had been the wrong answer. Somehow, some way, he’d expected me to answer differently. Or maybe there was no right answer. This was all part of the game, part of his plan.

“I think I’d rather fuck you.” He picked up the condom and handed it to me. “Put it on.”

Oh, sweet Jesus, yes
.

I managed to get the wrapper open without much trouble, but it came as no surprise that my hands were shaking almost too violently to maneuver the condom into place. Nerves, excitement, and the overwhelming reality that my hands were on Scott’s cock all conspired to reduce my manual dexterity to almost nothing. I’d have had less trouble if I’d been wearing oven mitts. After a moment of struggling and resisting the urge to curse at my own clumsiness, it was on.
Finally
.

I dropped my hands to my sides and waited for his next command.

“Are you nervous?” he asked.

“Yes, Sir,” I said quickly.

He reached up and stroked my hair. “Good girl. Quick and truthful, exactly what I want.” Then he nodded toward the bed. “Pull the covers back and get on the bed.”

I did as ordered. My heart pounded so hard, it wouldn’t have surprised me if Scott had heard it.

Scott joined me in bed. He rolled onto his back and beckoned to me. “You’re going to be on top.”

I blinked. “I’m—”

“Now.”

Puzzled, I obeyed. I moved on top of him, straddling him and sitting on my trembling knees. The nearness of his hard cock to my pussy made every nerve ending below my waist tingle. My pussy wasn’t touching him yet—he stopped me with a hand on my hip before I’d lowered myself completely—but we were so close, so damned close. The condom was on. It was only a matter of time.

It occurred to me that Scott had been nothing if not a relentless tease since the beginning. I doubted it was below him to get us both this close, then back off and call it a night just to show me how controlled—and evil—he was.

He squeezed my hip gently. “Lift up a little.” His other hand moved between us, and my heart jumped into my throat.
Yes, yes, please, Sir
.