Opposition: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (NYC Doms), page 17
“Come here,” says, his voice low and raspy in the quiet. “Want to get some sleep, sweetheart?”
“Well,” I tell him. “Yes. But not until I’ve thanked you.”
“Don’t be silly,” he says, dragging me onto his lap. “It was the least I could do.”
A few weeks ago, I’d have protested sitting on his lap, but the first time I told him I was too heavy, he put a decided end to that by putting me belly-down over his lap. And now, I’ve grown used to how nice it feels sitting like a little girl like this on his lap. I lay my head on his chest and play with the top button on his shirt.
“Well, I mean, I guess,” I tell him. “But you were under no obligation to take us all to your home. And I want to thank you.”
Leaning down, he lifts my chin with the tip of his finger, then brushes his lips against mine before he drags them to my cheek and kisses me there, then my temple and forehead, so reverently it’s like an act of worship.
“Do you?” he asks. “What exactly might that thank you entail?”
My body is already heating from being so close to the man who’s commanded my body through pleasure and pain these past weeks, grows molten. I love being close to him like this, getting lost to the intimacy of our nearness. The rapid beating of his pulse. His signature scent, earthy and masculine like the burning embers of a fire in winter. The rasp of his voice and brush of his lips. Every detail strips away what’s on my mind until I find the peace that comes in this closeness while my heart beats faster.
I want more than a kiss, and he knows it.
God, I’ll miss this.
I whisper in his ear. “I think it’s time I had a tour of your bedroom.”
And then I’m in his arms and he’s standing, walking toward his room. He needs no further prompting. My heartbeat races when he kisses me hungrily, tongue and teeth and lips and moans, and I’m drowning in this moment.
He carries me to his room. “Bedroom,” he growls, kicking the door shut behind him. “Tour over. Get these fucking clothes off.”
“Impatient, are we?” I murmur when he tosses me on the bed, but his only response is a sharp crack to the ass. He’s taking his clothes off with impatient jerks and tugs.
“Get ‘em off before I do, and if I do, you won’t be wearing those again.”
“Oooh,” I tease, doing what he says and stripping quickly. “So brutal.”
“I’ll give you brutal, sweetheart.” I’m scrambling belly-down on his massive bed and my timing sucks. He’s just taken off his belt, which he wastes no time in doubling and smacking across my ass. I gasp, and before I can even take another breath, he strikes me again, and again, and I’m welcoming the perfect pain that I need tonight.
It hurts like fuck, but hell if I don’t like the way the leather makes me throb. He’s used every implement he owns on me, and affectionately calls me leather whore because every time he spanks me with leather, I ignite.
We’re far enough away from Ben and Bailey with their doors closed and thank God for that, so I don’t worry they can hear us.
“You need a taste of this, don’t you?”
I nod, as he spanks my flesh with the leather. He’ll leave his mark on me and tomorrow every time I move, I’ll feel the reminder of his dominance. I love that he knows this is what I need. He whips me with the belt until I pass the threshold of pain, and as he whips me, the pain begins to fade. I’m sinking, engulfed into blissful awareness and sensation, every strike bringing me closer to the well of peace I crave. Somewhere in the distance I can still hear the swish and smack of the belt, his low commands to lie still and take it, but I’m fading into a blissful quiet of welcome relief. This is where he can take me, this chasm of brutal reprieve.
And then my mind grows quiet. The belt drops, and though my eyes are closed I can almost see him behind me. When his hands span my waist, I arch into him. I need him to fill me. Claim me. His mouth at my ear, he lines his cock at my entrance. It hurts, hell does it hurt, my bruised, punished flesh against his skin, but this is a pain that erases all other.
“Fucking beautiful,” he growls with a thrust of his hips. I moan and brace for the savage friction and pleasure. When he wraps my hair in his fist in one fierce sweep of his hand, I don’t fight it. I need this release. I need to lose control to him. I need his dominance. “My sweet, beautiful pain slut,” he rasps in my ear. “My little leather whore.”
“Yes, sir,” I say with a grin and moan as he rocks his hips and my heartbeat races. I’m getting closer to climax and so is he, but this is no lover’s dance or gentle dalliance, but carnal surrender. I moan low on the cusp of climax, then scream when he pulls my hair back so I arch my body against his.
“Come, Cora. Come, beautiful girl.”
Ecstasy sweeps over me when I ride him, milking his cock with no reservation, my own release meeting his in silent perfection until we collapse together.
“Christ,” he swears, mumbling under his breath, and I swear for one minute I hear him say I love you.
I’m suddenly sober.
“What?” I say. Drunk on pleasure, maybe I just imagined what I heard.
“I said ‘God, I love that,’” he says, but he doesn’t meet my eyes, and too soon, he’s up and cleaning me off, then tucking me into bed. He rolls toward me and pulls me onto his chest. It’s the first time we’ve slept in the same bed. I’ll enjoy every second of this until it’s gone.
I like being held in his arms. My heart swells with the closeness of our bodies and our synchronized breathing. I’ve never felt so cherished or safe.
If I say it out loud, it’s a betrayal. I’ve broken a contract.
I can’t say it out loud, but I sing it in my mind.
I love you, Liam Alexander. I may never get to tell you, but I will always love you.
Eighteen
Liam
I can’t get enough of her. Cora’s a drug that’s seeped into my veins, crawled under my skin, and tethered herself to me.
Her smile. Her laugh. Her wit and intellect and humor. I’m in danger of drowning with no life preserver in sight, and I don’t fucking care.
I call her to my office the last week of our contract, and hell, I feel like time is ticking.
What happens when our contract ends?
Rule number six plays in my mind so often now, it’s tormenting me.
Love?
Until Cora, the notion was preposterous, really. I barely even liked the women I contracted with much less loved them. But Cora… God, what she does to me. What she gives me.
After the night we made love in my bed, things changed between us. I think we both know it, but it’s something we can’t speak of.
I love having her in my home and hell, I love Ben and Bailey there, too. I liked being alone, but I love not being alone even more. I didn’t know what I was missing until I had it. I’m teaching Ben basic chords on the piano, and Cora and Bailey are enjoying the hell out of living in my penthouse, with full access to the pool, the workout room, and the spa. And I enjoy the hell out of spoiling them.
We haven’t talked about them moving out in the week they’ve been there. The last time we did, I told Cora I liked them here and made some kinda vague remark about one of my guys finding them a place to live. What I didn’t tell her is that I threw out the printout he gave me with all the details.
Ben and Bailey enjoy getting rides to school, and Cora enjoys knowing they’re safe. We still go to Verge, but more and more I’m spending time in the penthouse I once viewed as little more than a place to crash. It’s the first time it’s ever felt like… home.
And I’ve never felt at home. Not when I lived with my parents. Not when I lived in a boardinghouse. It isn’t until they’re all there that I realize I’ve been a sort of nomad. It’s an interesting concept to grapple with, but I’m happy where I am.
She doesn’t hold back with me anymore, and hell if she isn’t everything I’ve ever wanted. Our contract is almost up, but I don’t care. I think I know what I’ll do when it’s up. I’ll pay her in full and…
No. The truth is, I have no idea what I’ll do.
It depends on her, really.
She has school today, but no shift at the bookstore, and I’m making good use of the time we have together.
I want you in here at eight, dressed in the simplest clothing you can so I can take it off you when you get here.
Yes, sir.
I can almost see those eyes of hers light up as she bites her lip and looks through her clothing. The way her pulse races and she shifts on her feet at the knowledge that she’ll be in my office today to do with what I please.
Will you use me, sir?
The text makes me smile.
In every possible way.
We’ve spent every damn day together since that night in Verge when she was first mine.
I’ve scened with so many women, one might call me proficient in the art of BDSM. But punishment… real discipline… it did something to Cora. There was more than the physical exchange of power that night, and neither one of us could have predicted what it did to her. To us.
I knew the cane would be difficult for her. I had no idea that my punishment would break her open the way it did, and I had not the slightest inkling of how I’d want to put her back together again. Something happened that night, but I won’t let myself think about the ramifications. We have a contract. This is an agreement between two people, friends with fucking first class benefits, and I told myself I’m strong enough not to fall for her.
I lied.
Jesus fucking Christ, though. It would take a will of iron to resist a woman like Cora. She’s the whole fucking deal. Brilliant. Stunning. And the scenes… Christ, she’s the perfect sub. If she has a hard limit, I haven’t found it yet, though she still shakes a little when we dabble in wax. Every time I bring her to the edge of fear, she climaxes harder than she ever has before.
We’ve explored the depths of Verge and we’ve only just begun.
I didn’t plan for this to happen, but here we are, and I have no intention of letting her go. When the contract is up… I’ll have to make her another offer.
I haven’t yet worked out the details of how I’ll handle this.
I focus hard on the work I have to do before she arrives and lose track of the time. I’ve given Mandy the day off, so Cora and I have a bit more freedom than we normally do, and Manuel announces their arrival shortly after eight thirty. I frown at the time. They were supposed to be here earlier, and it’s unlike them not to arrive promptly.
I punch a button my phone and ask him, “Why so late?”
“She wasn’t ready when I arrived, sir,” he says, then quickly amends, “but she got ready as fast as she could, and we might have hit a little traffic on the way.”
Is he covering for her? I frown. “Might have hit a little traffic?” Traffic in NYC is brutal, but a quick glance at my monitor shows me the distance to my office is no worse than usual.
“Yes, sir,” he says.
“Very well. Send her up.”
“I’m already here,” comes a voice on the other side of the door.
“Come in.” I push the button to allow her entrance to my office, leaning back in my chair so I can watch her enter. She lights up a room when she comes in, and I want to see the transformation, but I’m not quite sure what happened with my instructions this morning.
The door opens, and Cora stands in the entryway, the light of the hall behind her casting her body in shadow so I can’t quite see.
“Shut the door,” I command. “And stay right there.”
The door clicks shut and now I can see her fully, dressed in a little dress we picked up last week for her, a casual, hunter green number that dips to a low vee in front, that I know from personal experience simply slips on and off, with no fussy buttons or zippers or ties to deal with, so it can be removed in record time. An important point.
But first, we have something to discuss.
“Why were you late?” I demand, fixing her with the stern glare that usually makes her humble and contrite.
“I… well…” she begins, and though I’ve trained her to keep her eyes on mine when I speak to her, she looks away.
“Cora,” I warn, but she doesn’t look at me.
“I overslept,” she says, but by the way she shifts her feet and won’t meet my eyes, I can tell she isn’t telling the truth. She’s lying to me? Being late earns a minor consequence, but a lie?
I can’t abide lying.
I’ll have an answer.
“Look at me.”
She swivels her gaze to mine and there’s fire in her eyes. I get to my feet, prepared to meet that challenge. This is an exchange of power she’s agreed to and here, right now, in this room, she needs a reminder. I need to strip away whatever’s holding her back from submitting to me, and everything about her right now from her stature to her tone, to the way her eyes harden when she looks at me, says she isn’t prepared to submit.
Has this all been an act? Has she feigned submission, and now that we’re near the end of the contract, she’s putting up a wall?
Our contract isn’t up yet, and I’ll fucking remind her of that.
I snap my fingers and point to the carpeted floor.
“Knees.”
Well trained, she falls to her knees in obedience, though her eyes still spark defiance.
I crook my finger at her and give a silent command.
Crawl.
With a sharp intake of breath and pinched lips, she hesitates. I do a mental calculation of what I have at my disposal in my office. Though I’m discreet, I’m fairly well outfitted for play here, and I know in the other room I used to have a stout riding crop, but I think I’ve brought all the other tools to Verge.
The belt I’m wearing is well-crafted Italian leather.
It will do.
One foot forward. Then two. She’s crawling toward me reluctantly, her eyes alight in anger. I don’t know what it is that’s gotten under her skin, but I will.
I wait, watching to see if her anger bleeds off as she comes to me on all fours, but it seems the closer she gets, the angrier she becomes, until she’s at my feet all but glaring at me. I drop to one knee and chuck a finger under her chin.
“This is no submissive woman I have kneeling before me,” I say. “You began our day with disobedience, and now everything about you speaks defiance. What is it?”
“Nothing, sir,” she grits out.
I bring my fingers to her hair, and allow myself one stroke of the soft, silky strands, before I wrap them in my fingers and tug her head back, hard. Punishing. “That’s a lie.”
Her eyes water from the hair pull, but her mouth is clamped shut.
I could bend her over my desk and take my belt to her ass and attempt to whip the truth out of her. Or I could stand her in the corner until she finally caves and tells me. I have many options at my disposal, but instead of immediate punishment, I decide to give myself time to think about it while I make her submit. Sometimes the actual act of physical submission is what it takes.
“Alright, then,” I say, getting to my feet but holding her hair so she hisses and scrambles to her feet beside me. “Since you won’t open your mouth to speak the truth, let’s put that mouth to better use, shall we?” She swallows but remains silent.
Hell, I’ve got work to do. She can do her work while I do mine.
I release her hair and take her hand, leading her to the large desk. I sit at my chair and stand her in front of me. In one quick tug, I divest her of her dress, pleased to see she wears a simple bra and no panties. Soon, she stands naked before me. The large windows behind me showcase the heart of NYC, but the glass is mirrored, so though we can see every high rise and taxi cab below, no one can see us. It gives me the illusion of transparency but the security of privacy all at once.
But Cora doesn’t know that.
“Under my desk,” I instruct. “On your knees.”
She obeys but reluctantly, falling to her knees in front of me with flashing eyes. I open my desk drawer and remove a few items that will help me prepare her. They clink onto the glass-covered desk, and for the first time since she’s come in here, her eyes register surprise, widening ever so slightly and her lips soften.
First, the handcuffs. I’m prepared for this, and have already placed everything I need in my desk. I bend down and bring her wrists behind her back, before I click the metal in place. I make sure they’re secure but only slightly uncomfortable, enough to make her know her place but not too much to cause distress. With her hands fastened behind her back, she kneels with legs spread apart and back arched, as she’s been taught. Next comes the silk blindfold I slide over her eyes and tie behind her head. With her vision and movement impaired, she takes in a deep breath. The first layer of resistance strips away.
Next, I open the lubricant, squeeze some onto my hand, and glide it over her ass, making sure I lubricate her asshole good and well.
“Liam,” she whispers. The angry little girl who stepped foot in my office a few minutes ago is almost gone.
“Cora,” I respond.
“What is that? I mean, I know what it is, but what are you—ooooh, oh my God—”
Suddenly she knows exactly what it is, as I guide the lubricated plug into her ass.
It’s a stubborn sub who can maintain anger and defiance when she’s cuffed, blindfolded, and plugged, kneeling on her feet in front of me.
The only freedom she has right now is speech, and soon I’ll strip that away from her, too. When she hears the clink of my belt buckle, she freezes.
Good. I wasn’t planning on strapping her yet, and my range of motion is limited with her sitting in front of me, but I double the belt and give her a good crack across the ass. She hisses and squirms, but I can still feel whatever angers her emanating her like heat from embers. I’ll draw this out of her, but sometimes it takes a bit of finesse. Dropping my belt to the floor, I unzip my pants and slide out my cock, already hard, into my hand. Shifting my chair closer to her, I slide my cock to her full lips.
