Power Play: A Black & White Collection Story (8 page)

As if reading his thoughts, she took a step back. His arms were loosely chained above his head, his elbows slightly bent. He resisted the urge to test their strength, to test the bar. A small part of him wanted to use brute force to pull free from her bondage, but he was able to push it aside. Today was about her. Her fantasy. Her needs.

She ran her hand along his chest, the sudden touch surprising him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart as she used her nail to tease his nipple. Bending forward, she nipped at the small distended bit of flesh with her teeth. He clenched his jaw as she increased the pressure of the bite. She continued until a hiss escaped his lips. She backed away then, studied his face and then soothed the pain with soft, wet kisses and gentle brushes of her tongue. Once she’d eased the hurt, she moved over and inflicted the same pleasurable pain to his other nipple. Over and over, she tormented him with sharp bites, sweet kisses.

He was struggling to get air into his lungs and his cock was full to bursting. Jesus. She hadn’t even touched it yet.

Finally, she pulled away. He watched her through slitted eyelids, trying to read her face, determine her next move. It was impossible. She was a master at this game, at control. It was like looking in a mirror.

She walked back to her desk and picked up the riding crop. He clenched his teeth. This was definitely going to be a new experience. For him and for his secretary. He glanced uneasily at the door. What the hell would Jessica think when she heard the crack of a whip? Would she try to come in?

“Jess is about to get an education. Wouldn’t you say so?”

He cleared his throat, wondering when it had gotten so thick. “Maybe you should tell her to go to lunch.”

She looked at him thoughtfully. “Maybe I should invite her in. I bet she’d love to put a few lashes against your back.”

He shook his head. “The only hands I want on me right now are yours.”

She seemed to digest that information, then—typical woman—she latched on to the wrong words. “Right now?”

“Frankie.” He gestured at the crop in her hands with a nod of his head. “Get on with it.”

She lifted the crop, dragging the tip down his chest and then across his shoulders. For several moments, she moved in what he thought were random patterns. When she drew a K, he realized she was spelling her name.

“Marking your territory?”

Her gaze met his and she didn’t smile. “I think I am.”

Clearly she hadn’t liked his
right now
comment. He wanted to figure out how to feel about that, but before the thought could penetrate, she moved the crop down to his cock. His fists clenched as he wondered about her intentions. How pissed off was she?

She read his rigid pose easily. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression
don’t bite the hand that feeds you
?”

She was still teasing his rigid flesh with the crop and he was having serious trouble processing her meaning.

“Yeah,” he barked out.

“I’m not about to maim something that gives me so much pleasure.”

With her words, he released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Christ, the woman held him in the palm of her hands. His head was screaming at him to jerk the bar off the wall, free himself from her contraption, but his body wouldn’t move. Even with her taunts, her threats, his stupid cock remained standing at attention, begging her for more.

She walked around him slowly, crossing the threshold into his office. His back was to her and he knew she was about to up the ante on their wager. She dragged her fingernail along his back. “You liked spanking my ass.”

Her words were a statement, not a question, so he didn’t reply. He hadn’t liked spanking her. He’d fucking loved it. There was something about seeing her ass marked by his hand. Some dark possessive part of his nature craved that mark.

“Maybe that will help you understand why I need to do this.”

Before he could reply, she brought the crop down on his back. If he’d expected tenderness, he’d been a damn fool. She knew what she was doing, knew how to use the instrument in her hand. Three more times, she struck, each blow touching him in a different place. His back was on fire and he couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped each time she hit him.

She paused after the fourth blow, stepping forward. It took him a moment to realize what she was doing. She was blowing on his back. Her lips dispersed cool air along every mark of the crop. His cock twitched. He squirmed. It felt amazing. Like nothing he’d never experienced.

He felt like a powder keg about to explode. “God, Frankie. Can’t last. Gotta come.”

She placed a gentle hand on his back. “No. Not yet.” She increased the pressure, pushing on his sore skin, the pain helping him forget his need for a moment.

He heard her drop the crop on the floor and he struggled to decide whether he was relieved or disappointed. Her hands gripped his waist from behind and she tugged him toward her.

“Bend at the waist,” she commanded. “As much as you’re able.”

He complied. Somewhere along the line, he’d given his body to her. He was hers for the taking, the exploring, the adventure. There was—quite simply—nothing he wouldn’t give her at this moment.

She reached around him and lightly gripped his cock. After her firm touches and painful blows, her stroke was disappointing, not enough.

“Harder.”

She placed a soft kiss on his upper back. “No.”

“Dammit Frankie. You’ve had your fun, but—”

She removed her hand from his cock completely. “Bad boy. Don’t move. Not a muscle.” She walked away and he fought the urge to look behind him, to see what she was doing.

He heard her rifling through his desk and his curiosity piqued. “Looking for something?”

She returned and took her place directly behind him once more. He was beginning to feel like a fool, chained in a doorway, bent at an odd angle, his bare ass sticking out. God help him if Brian decided to walk in.

Something cold touched his ass and he knew what she’d grabbed. For a moment, his cock actually wavered.

“No,” he said.

She ignored him, her finger continuing to delve deeper into his ass.

“Frankie. I mean it.”

She stopped for a moment, but she didn’t remove her finger. “Sixty seconds.”

“What?”

She started to push deeper once more. “Give me sixty seconds. Count out loud. If you still want me to stop by the time you hit sixty, I will.”

He swallowed heavily. Even a minute seemed too long, but as she plunged deeper, he had to admit he felt an odd stirring low in his gut. His cock had resurged, harder than it had been since they’d started this liaison.

“One, two,” he began.

She pushed more firmly, her entire finger engulfed in his ass. It was only when she was fully seated that he realized her fingernail wasn’t cutting him.

“Nails?” he asked, interrupting his count.

“I cut two of them off in the bathroom earlier. You didn’t notice?”

He been so focused on her outfit, her face, the incredible things she was doing to his body, he’d failed to notice her hands. Then another fact came home to rest. “Two?”

She laughed softly, the sound wholly feminine and sexy. Her finger withdrew, returning faster than her previous journey in.

He gasped and resumed his count. “Fifteen, sixteen.”

She began to thrust inside his ass, shallowly at first and then deeper, harder. He felt himself anticipating her return trips, pushing back to capture more of her finger. He’d forgotten all about the count until she increased the pressure and added another finger to the first.

“Fuck,” he said between gritted teeth. The tight pinching was almost more than he could bear. “Thirty.”

She reached around his waist and grasped his cock once more. This time her grip was firm, controlled. She rubbed his cock in time with the fingers fucking his ass and he lost all grasp on reality. She trapped him in her erotic web, wrapped him in silk bindings and he was now her willing victim. He was on the verge of coming when she surprised him by withdrawing from his ass.

“No.” Her fingers pressed hard against the base of his balls. He trembled, struggling to hold back his come. Why he was obeying her when all he wanted was to erupt, drawing a new pattern on the carpeting in her office, was beyond him. All he knew was he had to stop.

She took her hands away from him, stopped touching him completely. He hung limply from his chains, his body exhausted from the effort of holding back.

“Please,” he whispered, the sound of his voice pleading. He never begged, but in this moment, he was willing to go on his knees before her. He’d offer her the world on a silver platter for the right to come.

She walked around him. Stood before him. Her face was blissful, happier than he’d ever seen it. For a moment, he thought she might lean forward and kiss him. Instead, she lowered the zipper on her catsuit, her breasts threatening to fall out of the outfit at any moment, giving him the perfect view of heaven, and then she went to her knees.

His legs went weak at the image of her kneeling before him.

“I want you to come in my mouth.” Her command issued, she took his cock in hand, drawing it to her lips. She engulfed him, one slow inch at a time, until he felt the back of her throat. Then, she released the wild woman inside and gave him the greatest blowjob in the history of giving head. She took him in roughly, deeply.

He fought to hold on, fought to restrain his body’s natural impulses. Her mouth was heaven and he wasn’t willing to leave it so soon. She was offering him a precious, beautiful gift and he never wanted it to end. His arms shook, the chain rattling above his head, as he struggled not to come.

Just a few seconds more.

Just a second.

One last thrust in her hot, wet mouth and he felt his tenuous grip on control break.

“God, Frankie,” he yelled as he started to come. It felt as if she was sucking every drop of come out of his body, taking it all until he began to go lightheaded. He’d never come so hard or so long. In the aftermath, she held him in her mouth as his cock went soft.

Rising slowly, she unlocked the manacles and held him as he slowly went to his knees. She’d killed him with pleasure. Taken complete control of his body, his mind. Possessed him in a way no one ever had before and, as he looked up at her beautiful face, he knew no one ever would again.

She’d just claimed the part of him he’d never relinquished to another woman. His heart. And for the first time in his life, he felt complete.

Chapter Six

Reed cursed as he looked at the blank screen in front of him. He’d been struggling for over a week to create an ad campaign for Wedded Bliss. The presentation was in two days and he had nothing. He told himself his mental block was due to the fact he knew practically nothing about the institution of marriage, but he wondered if subconsciously he wasn’t throwing the game.

After collecting on her bet ten days, eight hours, and—Reed glanced at his watch—twenty-two minutes ago, Frankie had gone directly back to colleague, friend, ice-queen mode. Ordinarily he would have been thrilled to find a woman like her. One who didn’t pressure for more than he was willing to give. One who enjoyed sex without messy attachments.

He didn’t want that from her.

He was in love with her. Jesus, head over heels in love with her.

A light knock at the door startled him from his uncomfortable revelation. “Come in.”

Frankie stood beneath the frame of their connecting door. “Got a minute?”

For her, he had a lifetime, but he didn’t say that aloud. He merely nodded.

She walked in and took her usual seat in front of his desk. She sat down wearily.

“Problem?”

She sighed. “It’s about my Wedded Bliss campaign.”

Reed leaned back in his chair. He was about ten seconds away from conceding the damn contest on this bid now. There was no way he was going to be able to come up with something between now and Friday. Better to throw in the towel and help Frankie polish up her proposal. “What about it?”

“I don’t have one.”

He sat up. “What do you mean you don’t have one?”

She shrugged. “I’ve tried for days to catch a spark, find an angle. I can’t.”

“Shit.”

She frowned, leaning forward to put her elbows on her legs. “I thought you’d be happy. Thought you’d gloat a bit. I’m out on this campaign. You win.”

He shook his head sadly. “Frankie—”

She cut him off with a quick wave. “I was just hoping you could wait a day or two before collecting on the bet.”

Her words took him unaware. She looked fragile suddenly, almost afraid. Of him? He’d never hurt her, never force her to do something she didn’t enjoy. “Why?”

She clasped her hands together and looked down. It was the only time he’d ever seen any sign of weakness in her. He didn’t like the look.

“I just need a couple of days.”

“For what?”

Her temper broke and she stood, her feisty fighting spirit emerging. “Goddammit, Reed. I’m not a fucking robot. I can’t put these damn wagers of ours away as easily as you can. I’ve tried, really tried, to make it be just sex, but—”

He stood slowly. She was hurting too. It was the first chink he’d ever seen in her armor. The first time she’d ever given him hope for a future.

“The wager is draw.”

She stopped pacing in front of his desk and looked at him. “A draw?”

“I don’t have anything either.”

She ran a hand through her hair, tucking a stray strand back into her ponytail. His fingers itched to rip out the band constraining her lovely mass of hair. He wanted to see it loose again. “Well, that’s not good.”

He chuckled, though the sound betrayed no humor. “Yep, it would appear we’re up the proverbial shit creek without a paddle.”

“What the hell are we going to do? We have to make a presentation to the Wedded Bliss people in two days. Brian will shit a brick if we tell him we don’t have anything.”

Reed turned slowly and looked out his office window at the hustle and bustle of the street below. While he knew he should be worried about the client, he couldn’t summon the energy. His mind was too fixated on Frankie’s earlier comments. She was hurting just like he was.