Page 47 of Crave Me
Before, he’d promised orgasm denial as a form of punishment. That was the last thing I wanted.
“Yes, sir,” I replied, my voice petulant in tone, obedient in word.
Uncertainty swirled inside of me. I’d been so mortified last time I left. Needing something to get my mind off everything, and how he’d left me so aroused, I dug into my little clutch and pulled out my small tin of mints. I popped it open and dumped two into my mouth. I’d just clicked the tin closed when Simon’s hand covered mine.
“What is that?”
“My mints?”
He took the tin out of my hand and brought it to his face, inhaling.
“What are you doing?” I laughed softly. His gesture was absurd. The heat in his eyes as he glanced at me, anything but.
“You always smell like cinnamon. Just a hint of it. I’ve been wondering for six months whether you chewed gum when I wasn’t around or snuck shots of Fireball Whiskey.”
I laughed at the image. I rarely even drank. A beer or two, wine in moderation. I didn’t enjoy losing control unless I was kneeling at his feet.
“Sorry.” I took my mints back and put them in my clutch. “Not a whiskey addict, just a mint one.”
“I like it. Every time I get a whiff of something cinnamon now I think of you.”
This man. He made my heart beat so rapidly I feared it could leap from my chest. And he’d thought of me, the taste of me. He’d admitted it before, but he’d just admitted to doing it frequently.
It cleared away all the doubts, all my lingering fears. I trusted this man. I always would.
He squeezed my thigh in warning before letting go. “Good job, Little Bird. Trust me. You’ll do just fine tonight.”
* * *
The last time I was at Luminous, Jared had walked up to me and introduced himself before I was able to make it to the bar. He’d played the perfect Dom. He asked me if I was owned by anyone and if I wanted to play. We’d gone through a brief contract negotiation before he took me to one of the public playrooms.
I’d been enamored by all of it, and yet excited to finally get started, to find what I’d been wanting for so many years, even if it wasn’t going to be at Simon’s hands.
The memory of the pain of the cane whipping across my back made me freeze as Simon and I walked through the social room together. His hand, firm on my lower back, fingertips sneaking around to my hip, rubbed slowly up and down.
“You’re thinking too much,” he said, peering down at me with all the understanding in the world. “I believe I told you not to, tonight.”
I dropped my gaze from his eyes and to his shoulder, my hands curling into tiny fists at my sides. “It wasn’t you who was humiliated, either.”
I glanced around the room, as if I felt eyes on me, people watching me, like they knew I was the naive, inexperienced submissive who allowed herself to be beaten.
Simon reached out. His thumb and finger pinched my chin and dragged me back to him. I wasn’t prepared for the anger in his expression. Had he not had such a firm grip on me, I’d have stumbled backward. “You will not talk about yourself like that. Not around me, and if I ever hear you have, I’ll spank your ass so red you won’t be able to sit for a week. Nothing that happened last time you were here was your fault.” His head dipped lower, stormy blue eyes inches away from mine. “Do you understand me, sub?”
His hand slid from my chin and he wrapped it around the front of my throat, holding me with one hand to him. His touch undid me. It showed his strength and control along with his constant need to be connected to me. The brush of his fingers against the pulse at my neck evaporated my fears.
He had me. He was in control of me. With Simon, I had nothing to worry about. “Yes, sir.”
“I brought you here tonight to give you a better memory than last time. And trust me, by the time I’m done working you over, you won’t remember a single moment of your time here before. All you’ll remember is the pleasure I give you. Understand?”
His hand had tightened on my throat, not enough to choke me, but it forced me to pay close attention to every move he made, every word he spoke. And all of it made me relax. A warmth spread from his hands at my neck to my shoulders, down through my limbs, loosening me and making me pliable.
“Of course.”
His hand tightened, and my eyes widened in surprise. “Excuse me, sub?”
Right. “Sir. I understand, sir.”
“Good.” He dropped his hand and took me by the bicep. His steps were sure and quick, confident without a cocky swagger so common in athletes. “Now, we’re going to get a drink, mingle a bit, and when I declare you ready, we’ll go play. But tonight, Chloe, is not just about you forgetting what happened last time, it’s also for me, so be prepared because I won’t go easy on you.”
