Personal Assistant (22 page)

       
“Hungry?”
He laughed.

       
“Ravenous.”

       
She
stripped the jeans off and met him half way to pull the boxers off as well.
Starting with his ankle she nipped, licked, kissed, nuzzled and sucked on
almost every inch between ankle and hip, avoiding his crotch entirely.

       
“
Ohh
, that’s cruel.” He quipped.

       
Frankie
enjoyed the feel of the soft skin at the head of his hard cock as it slid
between her breasts, over her bra and down to her navel as she kissed, licked,
nipped, and sucked her way to his neck, then his chin, then…

       
The
moment her lips touched his he pulled his hands up to cup her face, he held her
there,
not
letting it be a slight brush. His lips
parted, his tongue tested, found her mouth opening and slid in. He kissed with
the passion of a thousand men. Skillful, insistent, taking, until she was
breathless, dizzy. His hands loosened. He allowed her a breath, and then pulled
her back to start again. His fingers slid along her cheek, down her neck,
confident she wasn’t going to pull away from him again,
he
slid his hands around to unfasten her bra. He removed it quickly, eager to get
her as naked as he was. When taking the panties off meant having to let her
move away, he ripped them instead. The sound of the fabric, the urgency of his
hands, the feel of his cock as it pressed against her smooth, wet, pussy and
the opening there had her breathless.

       
“Frankie.”
He breathed her name as he pushed just enough to let her know he was ready. “I
love you.”

       
He
grabbed her lips with his, his tongue plundered her mouth as his cock plundered
her pussy. She was overwhelmed. The grip he had on her hips moved her farther,
deeper. She tried to cry out, but he swallowed them up with kisses. The
intensity of the situation, the angle causing her clit to rub against the base
of his shaft from the depth, the assault on her lips and tongue, the words that
hung heavily in the air without reply had all combined to create the perfect
little death. The muscles of her body tensed, her breath came in gasps, her
coordination with his kiss, lost. She was lost, coming undone at the very seam
of her being. The orgasm ripped through her and she cried out, pulling away
from his lips, pushing as hard as she could against his cock.

       
The
pulse rocketed through her body, up her spine and ended in errant tingles at
the tips of her ears, nose, and tongue. If her eyelashes could have joined in
the revelries, they would have. It was so intense and the sensations had spread
everywhere. The moment her eyes opened, she saw a very peaceful expression on
the man below her. “Did you?”

       
“No.”
He lifted his hips as if to prove the point. She gasped at the added surge of
tingles due to the motion. “That spider on the ceiling was completely
distracting me.”

       
He
said it deadpan. Frankie’s eyes opened wide. “What?”

       
She
squealed.

       
“Gotcha,”
he said and pulled her close then rolled them over. She was facing the ceiling
now and he was in control. They were giggling a moment during the transition.

       
“
Mmm
,” he said as he kissed her again, shifted his hips,
stroked her from the inside. “I missed you.”

       
She
could barely speak. He was pushing slowly, torturously so, enjoying her every
moan and gasp at his movements, “Did you?”

       
He
nodded. “Did you miss me?”

       
“Yes.”
She gripped his back as he pulled her leg up higher, angling in to get to the
spot. “Oh, yes.”

       
“Yes
you missed me, or…”

       
She
let out a strangled laugh, the motion must have ricocheted through her because
he was suddenly there, shifted a millimeter and rubbing her to bliss. “Yes,”
she gasped, “Both. I missed you,” gasp, “right there,” gasp, “harder,” her body
wound up quickly.

       
“Like
that?” He asked and obliged her demands.

       
“God, yes!”

       
The
ripples washed over her, arching her back,
trembling
her legs, erasing her fear with the rush of endorphins. Jonas powered on.

       
“Jonas,”
she gasped. “I…I love…I love…I love you.”

       
“That’s
what I needed.” He let her leg drop, he slowed the push, the power, and settled
into a comfortable pace where he could manage to kiss her, hold her, and press
at the small of her back to arch against his thrusts. He was no longer fucking
her. He was taking his time, savoring the moment, embedding it in both of their
memories. Her hands slid
everywhere,
her mouth tasted
anything that came near, his lips, his neck, his earlobe. She could feel the
muscles in his back ripple. The
grip of his hands tighten
.
“Say it again, Frankie.”

       
The
words slipped from her mouth as easily as the orgasm slipped across his body.

       
She
slid her fingers along his spine, enjoyed his weight crushing in on her. He was
growing comfortable, lax,
maybe
sleepy.

       
Her
turn she said, “You really should move before that spider drops to your back.”

       
“What?”
He jerked up and rolled over.

       
“I’m
just teasing. There is no spider, remember?”

       
“You
are so going to get it now.” He said in that playful tone uniquely his. Nothing
in the world looked better than the man’s smile. He was blissfully happy. She
was too. He pulled her until she was flipped over on her stomach. “Where is
that marker?”

       
He
held her down with one hand and fumbled in the drawer next to her bed with the
other.
“Ah-ha.”

       
She
could hear him mumble as he took off the cap.

       
“Jonas.”
She squealed, tried to resist, but he was too much man to move before he
started beefing up, now he was a beast.

       
“Mine,”
he said around the marker cap in his mouth. The next thing she knew was the
feeling of a felt tip marker scrawling out the letters of his name along the
blade of her shoulder. “There.”

       
He
put the cap back on the marker and then blew on the ink as if it needed extra
air to dry.

       
“I
can’t believe you just autographed my back.” Frankie shook her head. She didn’t
mind really. She had been wondering since he signed that doll if he was going
to do the same to her.

       
He
moved to position himself next to her on the bed. Her feet were hanging over,
now they were in the bed sideways rather than long ways.

       
Jonas
pushed the hair away from her face and said, “That’s not an autograph, it’s a
label. I realized writing “mine” didn’t tell the world who you belonged to.”

       
“Ah,”
she said. “Well where do I get to claim you?”

       
“
Here.
” He handed her the marker. “Anywhere you want.”

       
“Anywhere?”

       
“Anywhere, but there.”
He covered his penis.
“Not that it doesn’t belong to you.
I’m just afraid of how
it might react to the ink.”

       
“How
about here?” Frankie traced her name with the marker cap still on over his
heart.

       
“That’s
always belonged to you.” He frowned. “You have first place and I have third.”

       
“Third?”

       
“Yeah,
you said before you had loved two men.”

       
“Jonas,
the first was teenage love, it doesn’t count. The
second,
was you, except it’s grown up, complex, crazy love so that actually makes
you
number one, too.”  Frankie kissed where she had
written her name without ink. Slid lower on his body, enjoyed the damp flesh,
the crisp hair of his chest, the way his abs jerked under her fingers.

       
She
pulled the cap off and wrote her name on his body along the contoured line of
his hip to his groin. That line distinguishing a ridiculously fit body from an
average one. The line that promised, ‘if these jeans drop any lower you will
see everything’ in some of his pictures.

       
“Naughty,
Frankie.”
He
tisked
.
He
looked at her handy work and smiled. “I was prepared to defend your name on my
chest, just so you know.”

       
He
moved so they could readjust their bodies’ long ways in the bed. He pulled her
close to him. She kissed him on the lips again. Her head moved to rest on his
chest. Her fingers gently tangled in his chest hair. His fingers stroked her
back, his thumb sliding along his name on her shoulder blade.

       
“I
should just get that tattooed, right?” She was only half kidding.

       
“Hmmm,”
he said.

       
“I
don’t mean tonight.” She laughed. “I know commitment needs to move in slow
steps.”

       
“Frankie,
you can write my name on your forehead and I would still love you. I’m just
thinking that I don’t know if I would want someone sticking
a
needle that close
to my…”

       
She
cut him off with a kiss.
“Gotcha.”

       
“Yes
you do.” He sighed and pulled her face closer to his. “Yes you do.”

       
He
was home much earlier than he should have been.

       
“Frankie,”
he called as he climbed the stairs.

       
She
was only half way across the room when he appeared. He was out of breath, frowning,
and apparently mad. He had a shopping bag in his hand. “Are you all right?”

       
“No,”
he said. “I’m frustrated and mad as hell. I can’t get this damn thing to work
like it’s supposed to and I am not, absolutely not, going back to work tomorrow
looking
like
an idiot.”

       
“Okay.”
She took a tentative step forward. “Can I help?”

       
“I’m
counting on it.” He reached into the bag and pulled out a stiff lump of fabric.
He opened it and held it up so she could see it. “I need to know how to work
these strings. Not just tie or untie, but I need to know how to manipulate them
and I need to make it look good when I do it.”

       
“No
problem.” Frankie stepped closer, took the garment from his hand. “This is for
her. It’s too small for me. Wait here.”

       
“Wait
here?” He followed her across the hall and into her room. He had reasoned with
her that staying with him was not only beneficial for them professionally and
personally, but it just made sense to move her stuff in across the hall and
save on rent for a place she wasn’t really living in. How could she argue with
that? When she tried to offer an argument he had cut her off and insisted.

       
Frankie
stepped into the closet and shuffled through the hangers until she located the
one closest to the movie prop. “This should work.”

       
“You
own one of these?” He arched his eyebrow.

       
“A few actually.”
She laughed. “Don’t look so surprised. I
own an entire mini-wardrobe of clothing from a variety of eras. I had a thing
for costumes in grad school.”

       
“This…is
a distracting revelation.
One that must be addressed…soon.”
He was serious. The heat in his eyes indicated the battle between work and
play.

       
“Well,
let’s conquer the corset first and then we can discuss playing with other
things.”  Frankie slid her hand into his and tugged him towards his
bedroom. “You have a bigger doorway to hold onto.”

       
His
brow arched again.

       
“Step
one, is understanding the laces, so don’t get too excited…yet.” She sizzled
with her own excitement. They were moving into a new phase of things. Her job
and her life with him were coming together organically. She knew at some point
she would have to stop being his assistant though she doubted she would stop
doing the work. She had taken some time to explore other options for teaching.
Online education was opening new doors for people in her precarious situation.

       
Once
he understood how to undo, pull, and tie the laces, he was eager to attempt the
methods with the corset on her body.

       
“In
order for the laces to work she will have to hold on to something. It’s why you
see those pictures and old movies with a girl hanging on to a bed post.”
Frankie removed her shirt and bra and clasped the front of the corset. “Ready?”

       
He
nodded. His entire body oozed sexual prowess. Like a panther ready to launch
onto an unsuspecting target he moved forward.

       
“You
know
,
if you use that expression I don’t think anyone
will care what your hands do.” Frankie tried for a laugh but ended with a gulp.
She had seen several of the faces he made when he was getting wound up for sex.
This expression was new.
Darker.
Seductive,
but hinting at danger.
She shivered in delight.

       
“Grab
the door,” he commanded.
His voice thicker than usual,
deeper.

       
She
immediately moved to hold onto the door frame. He stepped closer with slow
purposeful steps.  His fingers hooked the baggy sweatpants she had been
wearing and stripped them down her legs. “Step out.”

       
Now
in panties and the corset she thought for sure he was going to practice the
laces. He didn’t. He traced his fingers along her legs upwards until he touched
the silk panties trimmed in lace. She had only put on the sweats while he was
at work and changed out of them before he got home. It had been a week since
they had fucked. He was busy, she was patient, but always dressed and ready by
the time he got home, just in case.

       
“Odd choice of underwear considering the outfit.”
He slid
his fingers under the lace and traced the band from her hip to the seam of her
ass where he hooked his finger and slid the panties down a fraction of an inch
by tugging at the crotch. “You’re already getting wet Frankie and I haven’t
really touched you.”

       
“Yes…Sir.”
She gulped. It would either edge him on or she would be mortified for wanting
it.

       
He
rubbed his knuckles along the outside of her warm pussy and breached the fold
just enough to make her gasp.

       
“You
like that?” he asked.
His voice thick, heavy.

       
“Yes,”
she said.

       
“Yes
who?” he asked.

       
“Yes, sir.”

       
He
placed his lips against the small of her back and removed his fingers from her
panties. He stood, grabbed the laces and began masterfully cinching the corset
around her. She held onto the door as he pulled, gasped for breath as the
material closed in and restricted her breathing. It would settle, ease up, but
the first few moments were brutal. Once he had tied the laces she could feel
the strings touching the top of her ass, tickling. He would roll those up and
tuck them if it were part of an outfit.

       
She
stood, adjusting to the breathing.  She never heard him move across the
soft carpet, until the whisper of his dresser drawer caught her attention.

       
She
moved to let go and he said, “Don’t let go. And don’t look. Just wait… and
wonder what I have planned for you.”

       
Frankie
had dabbled a bit in role play, but never quite found it suited her. Of course,
she was the dominant one. She would never have let herself be vulnerable with
anyone else. She wondered if this was something Jonas had done before. He
seemed too unscripted. Making it up as he went along. She liked that. To think
this was something only they had done together. That he was willing to go
there, with her.

       
His
lips, unexpected, pressed against her neck. One hand moved up to remove her
glasses. He was gone the next instant. The black, silk fabric came into fuzzy
view before it covered her eyes. “Give me your hands.”

       
Her
heart thumped. Anticipation, excitement, a little bit of uncertainty all rushed
through her as she lowered her arms from the grasp on the door frame.

       
He
pulled them to rest behind her, clasped in one of his hands. Then she felt the
next silky tie wrap around her wrists. He never asked if it was too tight, too
loose, or showed any concern for her comfort. He left her there, standing like
that for what seemed an eternity, but was probably just a few moments.
 She heard the ruffling of clothes, the zip of his pants. Everything
heightened, louder. The plush carpet under her bare feet reminded her that the
moment he stopped fiddling with things she would not hear his approach. Her
heart accelerated, the anticipation as much a turn on as the ties.

       
His
nose pressed near her ear and he inhaled deeply. “I love the way you smell,
Frankie.”

       
A
shiver of carnal delight slid down her spine.

       
His
finger traced her face from her ear, along her jaw, and then teased her lips.
Frankie opened, tried to capture, but he kept pulling back.

       
“I
love your lips, Frankie. I thought I would never get to kiss you. To feel this
soft, smooth flesh…” He let his finger pull down her lower lip just a fraction
before his lips covered hers.

       
The
kiss was soft, gentle, his tongue slid into her mouth and caressed, teased,
explored. He pulled back slowly and let his lips slide across hers before
saying, “It was torture.”

       
“I’m…sorry...Sir.”
Frankie wasn’t sure what to say.

       
“You
should be,” he whispered. The next instant he had his hand clasping the tie
behind her back and tugging her to walk backwards to wherever he led her.
“Down.”

       
“Sir?”
she asked. Her pulse was wild. She wasn’t sure where this was going. She had to
trust him. She had to really trust that he would not hurt her.

       
“On your knees.”
He let go of the tie and placed a hand on
top of her shoulder exerting a slight pressure to encourage her to do as he
said.

       
Her
unsteady legs moved her body to a kneeling position.

       
“Now
you can feel a fraction of the way it felt for me to wait.”

       
Frankie
hoped he was kidding. She really hoped he was going to touch her again soon.
Let her loose. The corset was smothering all of a sudden, too
tight,
she tried not to strain against the breaths. The tie
at her wrists was tight, too tight.
The darkness too much.
She couldn’t hear him. She was sure he had left her there as some twisted form
of revenge. She struggled to move her shoulders and work loose the tie at her
wrists.

       
“Is
it too tight?” he asked.

       
Frankie
stopped. He was there, watching her. “Yes…no… I don’t know.”

       
“You
feel helpless, confused,
vulnerable
?” he asked. She
could feel his presence near
her,
smell the warmth of
his body, the scent of his soap.

       
“Yes.”
She nodded.

       
“Yes
who?”

       
“Yes, Sir.”
Frankie licked her dry lips and tried to control
her breathing.

       
“You
don’t like it do you?” He traced her lips with his thumb as the rest of his
hand cupped her cheek.

       
“Not
when you’re away, Sir. I don’t mind when you’re close.” The admission revealed
to her physically what he had been dealing with emotionally.

       
He
pulled the blindfold up so she could see. He was in his briefs, not turned on
by the look of them. “Now, we can play.”

       
“Jonas.”
She looked up at him. “I…”

       
“Me too.”
He frowned. Maybe he hadn’t intended to punish her
like that. Again, it seemed to be something he was coming up with as he went
along. He moved closer and began pulling the pins she had in her hair securing
the bun. He let the strands fall loose and then looked down at her. “How do I
get this down without pulling your hair?”

       
“If
you figure that out you can patent it and make millions. Just grab the band and
try to loosen it as it goes.” Frankie clenched her teeth as he found the
elastic band and began pulling it away from the base of her head. He was as
gentle as he could be, but it still pulled.

       
“You
don’t wear your hair down enough. I like it up, but only because I want to
watch you pull it down, like you did the night we went to the award ceremony,”
he said as her hair fell in a mess around her shoulders. He rubbed the muscles
and then slid his hands down to her wrists. He untied the bind on one hand but
pulled it to her front and said, “Oh, I’m not setting you free just yet.”

       
She
placed her wrists together and he re-tied them. “Better?”

       
“Yes,
sir,” she said and rolled her shoulders forward and back in relief.

       
“Good.”
He grabbed the tie and said, “You’ll like it this time.”

       
He
tied the silk tie around her eyes again.

       
“Stand
up,” he commanded and then assisted her in doing so. “Do you want to know what
I’m going to do to you?”

       
“Yes,
sir,” Frankie whispered.

       
“First.”
He leaned in close enough she could feel his lips against her neck then against
her ear as he whispered. “I’m going to lay you on the bed. Then, I’m going to
put your arms up over your head, and you’re going to keep them there until I
tell you
it’s
okay to move them.”