Forbidden Desires

Chapter 4

I eat my pancakes self-consciously in the nude on a white leather barstool. I try to avoid his gaze, but John openly gawks at me while he methodically eats his egg white omelet. He finishes long before I do, smiling like an i***t as he watches me. I stare at my food then out of desperation grab the newspaper off the counter.

"Oh, the Mariners won last night," I remark in as casual a tone as I can muster.

I open the paper up and try to block myself from his view as I take another sip of tea. It's my favorite, Twinings. I'm a bit touched he remembered.

I gasp and almost choke on the tea. He has slid his hand under the newspaper and around my thigh. I can't see his face, only his hand. It's so surprising, I spread my legs, giving him purchase. He massages my nub with gusto. I can feel myself drawing near the edge, building to a quick release. Should I drop the paper so I can see him? There's definitely something arousing as all get out about the anonymity of it. His hand could be anyone's, as though I could be anywhere, enjoying my breakfast and my newspaper (admittedly in the nude) when this unbidden hand takes me by surprise.

John Tanner is the stuff fantasies are made of, but I let my mind wander through the possibilities: I’m on a train when the man sitting next to me cops a feel; I’m on my lunch break in the park and someone I’ve never met can’t resist a little touch-and-feel; I’m at home on the couch reading when a mysterious hand reaches around and gives me this... mind-shattering... orgasm... from out. of. nowhere.

The waves of pleasure wrack my body and I nearly fall off my stool.

Now the paper is crumpled into an unreadable mess in my hands. As the tremors subside, I smile and look over at John. I expect to see that sexy and snide look of accomplishment and satisfaction, but instead I’m faced with one of sheer amusement. He’s laughing, and I’m pretty sure it’s at me.

“What?” I pant. “Did I do something wrong?”

“You talk when you come, did you know that?”

I blush crimson and drop my head. Honesty, right? That’s what he wants.

“Well, I’ve never done it before last night, so how would I know?”

I sneak a look up at him and his eyes are wide.

“You are full of surprises, Miss Smith. Are you sure you can’t stay another night?”

Oh s**t! “What time is it?” I ask in a panic, slipping off the barstool and taking another bite of pancake before practically running for John’s study.

“It’s nearly two o’clock,” he calls, laughing again. What a fantastic sound. I stop and look back at him. He looks his age for once. It really suits him.

“I promised Dan I’d call. She’s gonna be worried sick.”

When I make it to the study, I’m completely stunned. Last night it had looked like a bomb had gone off — a laptop, a half-dozen books, two bookends, a lamp, and every paper on the planet had been dashed across the floor plus the horrendous mess I had made of the desktop between the dripping and the fingernail gouges. Today, everything is restored to its original state as though nothing ever happened. I’m assuming this Mrs. Jones has magical powers à la Mary Poppins.

I find my purse sitting neatly on the desk and fish out my phone. I send Dan a quick text:

*Sorry I didn’t call, I got busy. I’ll tell you all about it tonight at dinner. Beers and hamburgers okay? Love ya!*

Replacing the phone, I notice the contract sitting in the middle of the desk, still unsigned. I sit and read over it quietly and carefully, refreshing my memory. I don’t remember half the stuff in here from last night, but then, I wasn’t paying very close attention before. I pick it and my purse up and march back to the kitchen.

Our plates have been cleared and John is suddenly dressed. Next to him, I feel even more naked, but somehow it’s giving me courage, power.

“We need to talk about this,” I say, slapping the contract on the counter.

“Of course,” he replies, wrapping his hands around my waist. I try to shake him off, but my heart’s not in it. His hands on my skin are distracting but I have to remain on task.

“I need some free time on the weekends. I have a life you know.”

His hands start roaming and his face is buried in my hair. He nods and whines slightly before inhaling deeply. Hopefully I’m having as distracting an effect on him — should make negotiations easier.

“Good. I can see you during the week if that helps.”

He murmurs in agreement as he pulls me closer to him and begins nibbling the length of my neck.

“And the personal trainer. I can do two times a week.”

“You need the stamina, Selena,” he says between love bites.

“Okay, I’ll do three. But I won’t do this food thing.”

He stops, pulls his head back, and looks at me. “Selena, I’m very insistent that you eat properly.”

“You have to be able to trust me to do that without the rules.” He opens his mouth to protest, but I stop him. “It’s a deal-breaker.”

He lets go of my waist and we face off. After what seems like an eternity, he asks, “Will you at least try to eat three square meals a day?”

I spend a moment considering that. I suppose I already do try. “Alright.”

“Fine then.” He pulls me back against his body and runs his lips over my collar bone. “Is that everything?”

“Well, about the clothes and stuff,” I say.

He takes a half-step back. “Seriously, Ana?” Okay, I might have gone too far. He runs a hand through his hair and turns in a small circle. “If you’re going to be my sub, I want to be able to give you nice things. I want to be able to exert a little authority over you, and I want you to want me to do it.”

I think back to last night. His punishment was sort of amazing. I wonder if some of these rules are just there so I can break them.

“I’m just not comfortable with you spending your money on me like that. It makes me feel,” I mumble. “I don’t know, cheap.”

He stops. His voice is calmer, gentler, soothing. “You are not a w***e, Ana.”

“What is the difference between that and a sub?”

Clearly he’s never really thought about this before. It takes him a minute before he can respond.

“You’re not doing this because of the things I can give you. You’re doing this because you want to. Don’t you want to?” And I hear that little lost boy again.

“Of course I want to, but this is just so much so fast. I mean, I’ve never done this stuff before. I don’t know how it’s supposed to go, what’s normal and what isn’t.”

He smiles slightly. “What’s normal isn’t important. What you like is what matters.”

I smile back. “Well, I like this, and I like you. Why do we need to complicate it? Why do we need all these labels and rules and contracts and everything?”

He wraps his arms around me once more. “The labels don’t really matter, but the rules are there for me. I like knowing you’re mine and that you’re safe and healthy and well cared for.” He kisses me softly and I feel such emotion in it. “Besides, I’m going to take you to events and such. You need better clothes and I want you to be dressed appropriately. You can’t afford the kinds of clothes I want you dressed in. And I want to spend the money on you.”

I let that sink in. Finally I relent. “Okay, but I don’t have to wear what you tell me to when I’m not here. My time is my own.”

He nods to this.

“Now, I have to get home to make dinner for Dan. I should get dressed.” I turn in his arms and try to get free, but he pulls me against him, my back to his front. I feel his arousal pressing against my tender ass and I moan slightly.

“You are a shrewd negotiator, Miss Smith. Are you sure you don’t want to come work for me?”

I giggle. “No, thank you, sir. If you paid me, I would really start to feel like a whore.” I reach behind me and squeeze his p***s firmly, surprising him. His grip around me breaks and I walk away with a wink over my shoulder.

“What about the rest of it, Selena?”

I stop and turn, a safe ten feet from his reach. “Can I have a little while to think about it? I need some time to process,” I say.

He grumbles low in his chest and, of course, it’s sexy as all hell. I come very close to giving in right there and signing the paperwork as-is. “Alright, Miss Smith. I’ll have the contract redrafted and email it to you in the next day or so. We can discuss further Wednesday over dinner. Are you free?”

“I am free, Mr. Tanner. Dinner sounds lovely.” I turn and walk slowly back to the bedroom. When I’m almost out of the room and he hasn’t moved a muscle I call over my shoulder, “Now, are you going to f**k me again before I get dressed or what?”

I don’t even make it to the doorway and he’s scooped me up and thrown me over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, making me yelp. “You are insatiable, Miss Smith,” he says and slaps me soundly on the ass as we enter the bedroom.

He throws me down on the bed. “Sit on the edge of the bed.” His entire demeanor has changed. He’s all business, smoldering and commanding.

I scooch to the foot of the bed, letting my feet touch the floor and look up at him expectantly. He’s right in front of me and looking absolutely edible.

“I want you to tell me your experience.”

I’m thrown for a bit of a loop by this. I stammer for a moment but he doesn’t lose patience.“My experience?”

“Your s****l history.”

“But,” I say. “But you know I don’t have any. You’re my first.”

“Yes, but surely,” he says, running his hand through his hair. “You must have had some experience. Kissing, oral s*x, fondling, dry humping... Some women enjoy anal s*x but remain virgins.”

I can feel the blood rushing to my face.

He kneels down in front of me, his hands on my knees. “It’s okay, Ana. There’s no need to be embarrassed. You need to tell me so I know how far I can push you.”

“I’ve kissed boys before,” I volunteer.

He nods, waiting for more. But there’s no more. Bradley tried to get a little handsy in 10th grade, but my mom walked in, putting the kibosh on that situation very quickly.

When it becomes clear that there’s nothing to expand upon, John’s placid stare falters slightly. “Oh Jesus,” he mutters. “And what I did to you last night...”

“I enjoyed it. Don’t overthink this.”

He puts his hands on my ass and pulls me toward him, my legs parting for him so I’m essentially straddling him.

“Undo my belt.”

I reach down and fumble with the buckle. “Look at my face, Ana.”

I look up and he kisses me slowly, letting his tongue explore mine. I feel myself both tense and relax at his touch. I manage his belt finally and toss it to the floor.

“Good. Now my pants.” I watch his mouth as he talks, imagining it against my skin. I unbutton and unzip his pants, letting them hang from his hips. He stands and my eyes float down his body. He’s barefoot, so when I slide his pants off him, he steps out of them easily, springing free. He must not have been wearing any underwear.

This is the first time I’m really getting a good view of it and even though it’s a bit scary, I’m entirely intrigued by his p***s. It’s right in front of my face and without really thinking about it, I lean forward and kiss the tip lightly.

I hear John inhale sharply and his body jerks in reaction. I take more of him in my mouth. He’s salty and though he’s definitely hard, the skin is much softer and smoother than I imagined, like moss on a rock. I hum in enjoyment when I take him further into my mouth, stretching my jaw wider than it’s used to. He grabs two handfuls of my hair at this and grunts.

“Ana,” he moans.

I suck hard and pull my head back, running my tongue over the head. Another grunt and I take him slowly into my mouth, surer of myself. With each draught on him, I take a little more in my mouth, pushing further in.

When I feel him pressing against the back of my throat, he squeezes my head slightly. I hum in response and he nearly screams, grabbing my head forcefully.

“Ana, I’m going to come. If you don’t want me to come in your mouth, you should stop now.”

Something comes over me and as I bob my head along his length, sucking as hard as I can, I lift my hand to lightly cup his balls, then lift my eyes to meet his. He does scream this time and holds my head against him as I feel a spunky hot liquid stream down my throat, his d**k spasming in my mouth.

Finally, he releases me and leans down to kiss me. I’m self-conscious of my breath, but he doesn’t seem to care.

“Jesus, Ana, don’t you have a gag reflex?” he grunts.