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Jason leaned back on the headboard. “This company that Daniel is in discussions with, is it New York based?”
“Connecticut.”
“Not far away. Why not go with Daniel? Be supportive of him—you owe him the courtesy, if he respects you. Make the most of the trip and see some more galleries in New York. Ask their advice. They’re not going to see you as a competitor all the way over here.”
“Yes, Yes!”
A surge of adrenaline coursed through her. She bounced the rest of the way out of her drop, springing back into a joyous state. Jason took charge in his own subtle way—pushing her, guiding her.
He continued. “In fact, I have to go to my New York headquarters next week. Why not treat Daniel to a flight on my private jet?”
Her eyes widened. “You would do that?” She had never asked Jason to use his status as CEO to further her own career. She preferred he kept his wealth, and influence, distinct from her own working life.
He smirked. “I suppose there are spare seats—”
Her mouth landed on his. She couldn’t stop herself. The need to be close to him, loving him, reigned supreme.
His cock jerked under her, and she remembered her act of neglect. Creeping down his torso, she shuffled back into position. She began with a long lick, from soft balls up the veined shaft and into his little slit. His erection sprang up by her face. She slid her tongue down, coiling around his velvety cock like a serpent about the trunk of tree. He emitted a groan, a delightful accompaniment. Opening her mouth wider, she enveloped him, consumed his smooth head, and trapped him between her moist lips.
Bobbing up and down, she devoured him with gentle sucks.
He scooped up her hair, twizzling the locks until they bunched in his fist. She felt the telltale sting in the scalp. Then he grasped her hair with both hands, creating handles. As she drew in a lungful of air, he pulled her down into his groin, forcing her mouth wider and his cock deeper. Held down, she spluttered, trying to relax her throat. She attempted to raise her head—a painful tug on her scalp prevented her.
She gripped the sheet beneath her. Taut skin stretched over her knuckles as she held her breath. He removed his hands, their weight gone in an instant. Gasping, she tossed back her head, letting her hair topple about her shoulders. She looked straight ahead at her husband. He reclined, his hands tucked behind his head, interlocked, his eyes closed, long lashes flickering.
“Good girl,” he murmured. “Don’t stop, or I might give you another helping hand.”
She didn’t mind his quip. Curling a lock of hair behind her ear, she bent over him. His glistening cock, smeared with her saliva, beckoned. Grinning, she licked the bulbous end with the tip of her tongue.
“Gemma!” His lids remained closed, but his voice lifted at the end of her name. “Don’t tease.”
On the second occasion, she considered her blow job perfect. He made an exclamation, which was delightful to hear, as he came deep in her throat. He then reciprocated with his mouth on her sex. Treating her to all his oral skills with nips, sucks, and a darting tongue in her pussy. His dalliances triggered a stupendous orgasm that had been waiting to happen since their return. She arched her back and curled her toes until they cramped.
A tear slipped down the side of her temple.
“Why the tear?” he murmured wiping it away.
“I’m so happy.” Ecstatic. Every nerve ending seemed to be alight with electricity.
“Good.”
A wicked grin curved his lips upwards.
“Because,” he continued, “if we had been in play this morning, the day would have begun so differently. Your first blow job warranted a good spanking for lack of attention and failing to provide me with pleasure. It goes to show that having a subdrop is important sometimes. Don’t you think?”
She stared at him in amazement—such an insightful man, or maybe she just wore her emotions on her sleeve. He might not have known the contents of her e-mails, but he’d known she would come crashing down to earth that weekend. This time, unlike after their New York vacation, he had been prepared. She couldn’t fault his learning style. He had remembered and had been waiting for her to open up to him.
Chapter 2. A Week Later
To Gemma’s delight, on the following Friday evening, Jason announced they would do a short scene in his dungeon lair at Blythewood. It heralded a return to their normal routine. Friday and Saturday evenings, she became his submissive for the duration of his planned scene. Beyond those times, he could call upon her if she consented to the role. She had the right to decline, although she rarely did. As well as being his part-time submissive, she had sworn to obey him as his wife. Not something he drew upon often, and only when it pertained to her safety.
Entering the windowless ground-floor room, they re-acquainted themselves with their own personal play space, the familiar layout and rituals. Naked, Gemma knelt by his divan while waiting for him to arrive and, with minimal conversation between them, he issued his e
xacting instructions. He tied her to the St. Andrew’s cross for a mild sensory flogging and teasing, followed by bondage on the bed for his much-needed rougher sex. Orgasm denial came back into play—during the cruise, she had been given the freedom to come when she wished. With gentle patience, he didn’t leave her too long unrequited. Nudging her to hold her orgasm and making her wait, he brought her to the brink and tipped her over with a vibrating wand.
His arm wrapped about her waist, she meandered upstairs to the master bedroom with a satisfied glow. Back home, all felt right in the world, even if she had work issues on her mind.
Saturday night arrived, and Gemma dressed up in her club attire, cinched corset and leather skirt, plus lacy stockings, crotchless knickers, and the all-important collar necklace with its pendant J hanging from the chain. Ferried by one of Jason’s regular drivers to the Nightshade Club—a typical house hidden in suburbia, which served as a private BDSM club for the wealthy—they mingled and gossiped with the other members.
