Just One Night, Volumes 1-3 Page 13

  “You keep blowing it,” he finally says to me, as if that is supposed to answer all of my questions.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” I grunt, irritated.

  He looks me in the eyes, his jaw tightly clenched, and says slowly and clearly, “You. Keep. Fucking. It. Up.” He accentuates each word. “Don’t you see that Alyson wants you just as fucking badly as you want her? Why the hell else would she have agreed to go down to The Dungeon and allow me to do all those things to her?” he spits out.

  Wrong move.

  The thought of all the things he’d done to her sends a fresh wave of anger coursing through me, and before I can stop myself, I am up, out of my chair, and grabbing him by the throat. “You should never have touched her,” I hiss, my face only a few inches away from his.

  Derrick pushes me away, breaking my hold, “What the fuck does it even matter, man? You walked away. You left her there crying and drinking herself into a pitiful state. Shit, I had to stay with her just to make sure she got home okay,” he barks back at me, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

  The strong urge to punch him in the face again is tempting, but his words finally penetrate my anger. “How bad?” I ask, needing to know that Alyson is okay.

  “She’ll live, no thanks to you,” he snarls, as he takes a seat in front of my desk and props his foot up on the edge.

  Groaning, I return to my own seat across from him. Silence falls over us for a moment. This isn’t the first time Derrick has stuck his nose where it doesn’t belong. In fact, he’s been doing things like this during our entire lives, and even more frequently after Elizabeth’s passing.

  In truth, I wouldn’t have made it through that ordeal had it not been for his meddling in my business three years ago. It was because of him that I joined The Dungeon and later bought into it as a partner. While I know that he’s always had the best intentions, it hasn’t stopped me from wanting to punch him in the throat from time to time—today being one of those times.

  “She’s not Elizabeth, you know,” Derrick says suddenly. “I know you see the resemblance, but she’s not her. Alyson’s here, she’s real, and damn it brother, she really likes you.”

  The resemblance between Alyson and Elizabeth is truly remarkable.

  Having any version of Elizabeth near me again has two very different effects on me. While I want nothing more than to hold Alyson close and never allow her to leave me again, a possessiveness I never felt when Elizabeth was alive, but which I now find myself experiencing with Alyson. The other emotion I feel, clearly unrelated to how I felt about Elizabeth, is an uncontrollable deep, dark desire for her, and that is purely an Alyson thing. Something about the dual parts of her personality makes her unique when compared to Elizabeth.

  While Elizabeth was very outgoing, she wasn’t much into experimenting in the bedroom, not that I was particularly adventurous either back when we were together. But Alyson, she’s a conundrum, an unexpected anomaly. Everything about her screams innocence, to the point where she’ll adamantly insist one day that she doesn’t belong in my world, and yet the next day where do I find her? Dead fucking center-stage at The Dungeon, scening with Derrick. Nipples erect, her breath coming in quick pants with her cheeks tinged pink with lust.

  No, Alyson isn’t Elizabeth. She is something more.

  “Can she handle it?” I ask, knowing that Derrick will understand just what I am asking, what I need to know.

  He nods his head slowly, his lips curling up at the sides, “Oh, she can handle it all right. That girl is tailor-made for you.”

  Taking a deep, steadying breath, I nod my head in agreement, “All right, well, since you will be my personal slave for the next three months as payback for doing what you did last night, I need you to do something for me.”

  Derrick groans, his shoulders slouching in defeat, “Damn it, what do I have to do now?”

  It’s time for me to claim what’s mine.

  ALYSON

  It’s dark and cool in here. The silence around me is almost deafening, but I forge ahead, clutching a note in my right hand, as I slowly feel my way around the room. I don’t bother trying to read it again because it’s imprinted on my mind.

  I awoke this afternoon after a wonderful nap to find it slipped under my door. My initial thought was that Derrick had come by and left me a message, but as soon as I opened it, I knew it wasn’t from Derrick.

  ‘Your Master awaits.’ That’s all, just those three words and a time and location:

  The Puck Penthouse. 9:00 pm SHARP! Dressed only in your evening coat and heels.

  I have never been to The Puck, though I cannot imagine a single New Yorker who hasn’t heard of the historical building. It contains six one-of-a-kind condominiums atop one of SoHo’s most iconic buildings.

  A combination of both eagerness and trepidation courses through me. Will he be angry with me? Does he plan to punish me for running away from him the way I did and for what Derrick and I did on stage at The Dungeon?

  The thought of him exacting punishment on me should scare me to death, considering all that I’ve read about and watched regarding D/s relationships. I still can’t help but clamp my thighs together at the thought of him, my sex greedy for all that he might have in store for me.

  I’ve missed him terribly, and I know that it’s been nothing but my pride that’s kept me away from The Dungeon since that god-awful day I stormed out of his office. And, when I finally returned, with a nudge from his brother, Derrick, he still wasn’t pleased.

  I hear something shift, and I go still.

  Is he here? Angry?

  The pounding within my chest grows louder with each and every step I take, my chest heaving, my palms sweaty and the hairs on my arm…

  I sense that he’s here, watching, waiting…

  Please come out, I silently beg him, but he doesn’t. I can still feel him watching me.

  I feel his heated gaze upon me, but I can’t pinpoint his exact location, it’s too dark in here. “Please,” I whisper aloud, when it seems that he will not make his presence known. I turn around in place, trying, but failing to see even so much as an inch in front of me.

  “Shh….”

  Spinning around again, I only meet darkness at first, and I whimper in disappointment. I want him. I need to feel him against me. And, at that thought, as if he’s read my mind, a curtain is drawn, allowing a floor of moonlight in just before I feel his solid, chiseled body press against my back not a second later. A shiver runs through me, causing me to gasp, and then to sigh in contentment.

  “You’ve been a very bad girl,” he purrs in my left ear, his hot breath teasing my earlobe, as my excitement at being near him again causes my pussy to glisten with heated moisture.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  I lean back into him, enjoying the feel of his muscular chest against me, and it’s only then that I realize that he’s pulling my trench coat off my shoulders, knowing just what he’ll find underneath. I am naked and exposed, exactly as he requested in the note.

  “How shall I punish you?” he whispers, against my bare shoulder.

  I shudder. It’s been far too long since I felt his lips on me, felt his thick cock inside my body.

  “Whatever you wish, Sir. I am yours to do with as you desire.”

  I need to make him see, make him realize. I want to please him, and show him that I’ve done my homework this time around.

  Kneeling down onto the floor, I clasp my hands behind my back and bow my head. Blake’s sharp intake of breath as I surrender myself to him makes me smile.

  He is pleased.

  “Rise to your feet.”

  Obeying his command, I stand up, but I don’t turn to face him. Instead, I await further instructions, as my heart continues to throb with my need for him.

  Suddenly, I feel his hands around my waist and he gently pushes me forward until I find myself against a wall. Swiftly turning me to face him, he slides his hands behind me and cups my bare a
ss, giving it a squeeze.

  “Why did you come here, Alyson?” he asks, as he continues to massage my flesh, another moan escaping from my lips at his caress.

  “I… I…,” I try to speak, try to tell him how sorry I am and how much I have missed him, but the words lodge in my throat, and I am unable to speak.

  “Nothing to say?” he questions, before lifting me up by my bottom, and placing my ass down onto a thick strap. “I guess I’ll just have to fuck the answer out of you.”

  Before I can register what he is saying, he spreads my legs apart and straps each leg down at the thigh, so that my pussy is now fully exposed to him.

  Blake steps away, and I begin to panic at the state of immobility in which he’s left me. I wiggle my butt, trying to get some leverage, but it’s hopeless.

  “Stay still!” he demands, the sound of his voice coming somewhere across the room.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He makes a small tsking sound under his breath, and says, “Now you speak?”

  He’s angry. Fuck that. He is furious, and I am about to be punished, but for some reason, I am not afraid, even as I hear him slowly return to me and raise my hands into the air, where he uses another strap to secure them above my head.

  I suddenly remember the red-haired woman at The Dungeon and how Blake caught me admiring their scene.

  He remembers, I smile.

  He steps away to admire his work, looking at me as I hang suspended in mid-air, with my pussy pushed forward and open to him, ready for him to do whatever he pleases.

  “Your safe word?”

  I’ve already given this matter some thought. “Lost,” I answer him, knowing that it’s the only word to explain how I feel without him. He’s uncovered something inside me, and without him in my life, I have been completely and utterly lost.

  “So be it.”

  At that, he slams his cock inside me, and I feel instantly sated, as though I’ve just returned home after years of wandering aimlessly.

  I am home and home is with him.

  BLAKE

  “Blake… I…” Alyson stammers breathlessly, but a quick bite on her nipple distracts her from whatever she was planning to say.

  I practically growl as I ease in and out of her, relishing the feel of her warm, tight pussy enveloping my dick with each stroke.

  Fuck, she feels amazing!

  Whispery moans slip out of her mouth as I pick up my pace, driving deep inside her which each thrust. I feel her begin to pulse from the inside out and I slow my pace to a crawl.

  She whimpers in disappointment, but I don’t speed up my movements. “No coming until I tell you to,” I half growl, half moan.

  Her eyes are tightly closed, her body is fully open to me. She’s so fucking perfect, it’s as if she was made just for me. Rolling my hips against hers, I am pounding into her with controlled force.

  Breathing heavily, I crush my lips to hers, thrusting my tongue into her more than willing mouth. I can’t explain the feeling that courses through me at the meeting of our lips. The need to have more of her pierces my heart. I need more, I want more. I can’t breathe. My lungs tighten and I feel as though the air is being sucked out of me as I bury my head in the crook of her neck and inhale deeply. Her body surrounds me. Her scent is so sweet it makes my mouth water. The taste of her minted lips, addicts me, and her hot, slippery pussy draws me in and greedily swallows up and clenches around my cock.

  “Why did you come here tonight, Alyson?” I ask, and I realize soon after the question leaves my lips that I’ve been asking her this same question from the very first night we met.

  For some reason I am inextricably drawn to Alyson, as though there’s an undeniable force pulling me to her even when I know I should run far away from her. I can’t explain it, can’t understand it, but here I am trying to get even closer as I bury my cock into her delicious, hot pussy.

  Fuck.

  “I need you,” she cries out. I can feel the truth of her words as I continue my assault on her tight, wet cunt, loving the feeling of being deep inside her. Each time I slam into her dripping heat, Alyson’s cries modulate up an octave.

  Her pussy’s grip on me tightens, and between her words and the feel of her around me, something within me seems to break. She’s quivering and shaking against me and struggling against the restraints holding her in place.

  “Come for me, Alyson,” I growl, hammering into her with brutal force and her sheath immediately begins to pulse around my cock.

  “Oh, Blake! God, oh God,” she cries out, as she gives into her release.

  I don’t let up. I continue to pound into her, prolonging her pleasure and triggering my own. A guttural growl tears from my throat as I come hard, and she milks me clean. We’re both panting, completely spent from the force of our orgasms, but I am far from through.

  Alyson’s words trigger something inside of me that I haven’t felt in years. The need to make love to this beautiful woman is strong. And, as I slide my cock out of her, I feel the loss of her already.

  What have you done to me, Alyson?

  ALYSON

  Blake unfastens the straps holding me up once our breathing evens out. His arms wrap around my waist as he holds me tightly against his strong, solid body and I shiver, trying desperately to prevent the tears I feel welling up in my eyes from escaping.

  Blake severs our connection way too soon. He doesn’t say a word to me as he turns on his heels and disappears. It’s still too dark in his condo, but my eyes seem to have adjusted to the darkness.

  As if on cue, the lights flicker on and I wince from the sudden intrusion. It takes a minute for me to realize that I’m in an empty room. A living room perhaps? I wonder where he’s gone, but I don’t wander off looking for him.

  The room he’s left me standing in is twice the size of my own living room. The floors are of wide oak planks. Contemporary chandeliers hang overhead, giving off a soft warm light. The walls are deep grey and bare, with wide, stark white moldings. Dark plum linen curtains line the walls, and I can only assume that the space behind them is practically wall-to-wall windows. The room is beautiful, even though it’s bare of furniture. I sigh as I run my hands over the linen curtains, confirming that they feel as soft to the touch as they appear.

  I didn’t think I would ever set foot in Blake’s suite again, especially not after I made a big show of storming out of his office a few days ago. Yet here I am, in this surprisingly normal looking room, and I feel a yearning to be in his suite again. All I can think about is how much I want him to order me to his bed as he did that first night.

  Blake doesn’t say a word to me when he returns to the room and I don’t know if I should be happy or terrified about that. From the second I stepped into his suite tonight my stomach has been in knots. I want to explain everything to him, but what can I say?

  That you walked out of his office and regretted it the second you did? That you would do anything to have him back? That you also regret going along with Derrick’s plan?

  It’s true. I want to say all those things, and make him believe me. I need to show him how much he means to me. I want to give what Blake and I have between us a chance, but that’s the problem.

  What exactly is it that we have between us?

  A part of me wants to just come right out and ask him, but another part, the part that sees that Blake is now in full Dom mode, knows that asking him to discuss what he witnessed last night would be foolish. And trying to get him to define our relationship so soon after my little exhibition last night is just plain crazy.

  When did my life get so complicated?

  Just a few short weeks ago I was a normal woman, a college graduate seeking employment. One misunderstood advertisement seems to have tossed me into this cluster-fuck of a mess.

  I close my eyes and think about everything I have been through. Being the only survivor of the accident that killed my parents has deeply affected me for the past five years, more so because they’d no
t been around for any of the major life events your parents should be part of. Graduating high school, starting college, they missed it all. I’d received some psychotherapy, of course, but no amount of therapy can fully fix the part of me that broke on that day. I kept to myself after losing them, wanting to spare myself the pain of getting close to people again, only to have them leave me too.

  It’s a silly notion, I know. My parents didn’t voluntarily leave me, but the loss hurts just the same. Even now, fifteen years later, I still keep myself closed off. I don’t have friends. I barely had a love life before Blake. To make matters worse, my heart seems to be fixated on a man who is just as confused as I am, although he doesn’t seem too confused tonight. No, he’s completely in control and fuck-me-sideways, I love it!

  I open my eyes to find Blake’s hooded, lustful grey eyes fixed on me. My breath hitches at the sight of him standing in the doorway, leaning against the frame. His beautiful, sexy lips beg to be kissed. I want to lick my way across his strong jawline.

  His penetrating eyes bore into mine and I feel my body moisten under his gaze. Just that look has me panting with need. He's wearing only a pair of low cut jeans, and he’s barefoot. Just the image of me running my tongue along the dips and swells of his abs and pecs causes me to lick my lips in anticipation.

  “On your knees, Alyson,” he orders, as he allows his eyes to slowly caress every inch of me.

  Swallowing hard, I want to comply. Really, I do. But I know that we should probably discuss what happened last night before going any further. “Blake, I really think we should talk...”

  He doesn’t let me finish. “No talking, Alyson. On. Your. Damn. Knees.” His voice is rough and stern but still laced with lust.

  I want to express my outrage, yell and scream that he can’t order me around or speak to me this way, but the throbbing heat spreading through me causes me to moan instead.

  How can he turn me on so much?