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“Tell me,” he coaxed.
Calm sank over her. Why the rush? Nothing needed to be resolved that evening. Life would not fall apart if she didn’t see the answer lying before her. “I’m going to have to wait. Something better will come up. I will concentrate on the scholarships. Continue to paint. Perhaps hire space for a temporary exhibition.”
“Good. A much better vision than what I saw in here earlier.”
She waited. The tumbler clinked on the table surface.
“Show me a different position. One that would please me.”
His voice melted her inner strife. He’d squeezed the submissive out of her and her mindset shifted. She leant down, stretched out her arms, and slid forward, pointing her bum up in the air. The vulnerable position completed her transformation. The ache inside grew, and her skin collected goose bumps, not from feeling cold, but because of her sudden arousal.
He fucked her on the sitting-room carpet. A raw coupling, without decorum. He’d helped her overcome the mental block and, in return, he took her eager body, slapping his legs against her bottom with each pummelling thrust. Since Joshua’s birth, the roughness had crept back into play.
She doubted he’d planned to fuck her in the sitting room. He’d come down to fetch a drink. Her wetness, which leaked about his pounding cock, served to highlight how much she desired him. His techniques for bringing order to her rambling thoughts went beyond his ability to help her with decisions. Somehow, he’d driven her to a state of lustful readiness. She grunted, struggling to hold position on all fours.
“Thank you, Sir. Thank you for fucking me,” she murmured as he propelled his body in and out. Her nails clawed at the rug, and the coarse fabric of his jeans, which hung off his hips, chafed her bottom. The cold steel buttons of his flies knocked against her buttock. Small utterances came out of his mouth. Unintelligible sounds of exertion and pleasure. A revitalising waft of whisky reached her nasal passages, mixing with his natural musk.
Rocking back and forth to meet his thrusts, she impaled her pussy onto his slippery shaft, forcing him deeper until she felt him in her belly, hitting her almost painfully. He reached out and coiled her sweaty hair about his fingers. She anticipated the sting, the pain in the roots as he yanked on her locks. The stabbing sensation shot down her neck, triggering a gush below. She loved having her hair pulled—it laid bare his potency, his control over her. She expected him to nip, nibble on her flesh, or poke and tease, but he didn’t. With her swollen, heavy breasts swinging uncomfortably, her arms gave out beneath her.
The grip on her hair remained. He drew her up off the floor, and she peered across the room through half-opened eyes. She saw elegant furniture, the embroidered cushions, paintings on the wall, and photographs of their families displayed on the mantelpiece. The undimmed wall lights glowed harsh and bright. Too bright, too real. She blinked, squinting then cast her vision back into semidarkness. She only wanted to feel Jason. Her legs wobbled. They wouldn’t hold out much longer. Now, she wanted to come, and she clenched her pussy about the tip of his gliding cock, trying to trap him.
“Come for me,” he rasped.
For a moment, she felt nothing, as if the need had gone. She stalled on a sensory plateau and hovered, unsure if she could complete. She held her breath and waited, imagining the look on his face when she came. With a gasp, the pulsating sensation began in her clitoris, spreading to her pussy. Wave upon wave of spasms. They rippled outwards, forcing her to tighten other muscles. She cried out, a hoarse sound. Jason continued with his fucking, unabated by her orgasm, which left her whimpering and shaking.
All her concerns and worries seeped away, purged by a cathartic fuck and orgasm. Her clitoris throbbed. Aching legs complained. Still, her relentless Dominant refused to let go. She whimpered and slipped into a strange abyss of nothingness.
Finally, he juddered, let out a cry, and spurted. The heat and feel of ejaculating liquid was indiscernible from her own.
Gemma lay sprawled on the floor with legs spread wide. He stuffed tissues up her drenched pussy to contain the spillage. Then, he left the room and, a few minutes later, returned with a blanket. She barely noticed him roll her up in it. The fluffy fibres brushed against her face as he carried her upstairs to bed.
Lying side by side, they discussed her inability to focus on her plans and goals. Jason spoke of patience and keeping unnecessary worries at bay.
“You’ve got Joshua to keep you occupied. Being a mum isn’t about giving up on things. You’re taking time out. There’s no rush just because you feel like your professional life is on hold.” He spooned his body around hers. She felt his warm, slightly sweaty chest moving as he breathed softly against her neck. “You’re mine and I love you.” His words of comfort helped her drift off to sleep.
/> Chapter 14. Webcam
“You humped my desk!”
Jason’s eyes widened in disbelief. His voice seemed to echo off the study walls, rebounding back into Gemma’s ears. Her body stiffened. She’d confessed, now she waited for him to calm down and dish out his punishment.
Her first major act of disobedience since, when? Joshua’s birth? Masturbating without permission ranked as serious insubordination. She’d long known her Dominant loved to control her orgasms. In a scene—it went without saying—she asked. Beyond the lair, she’d always assumed she required permission, even without it explicitly stated. He’d never punished her for masturbating without him present, because the requirement hadn’t been part of their arrangement. She asked because she knew it thrilled him. Except, now it was a rule and spelt out in black and white. What annoyed Gemma most was how easily she did break his stipulation.
She blamed the Webcam.
He’d gone to Frankfurt for two nights. The first evening, he’d only had the time to text, and the following evening they had linked up via Webcam.
~
“Joshua asleep?” Jason’s voice came out of the speaker slightly warped.
Gemma fixated on his digital image. Jason lounged on his hotel bed, his jacket discarded, tie half-loosened, two or three shirt buttons undone, and his hands interlocked behind his head. She couldn’t see his lower half. A pity. She’d liked to have known if there was a bulge down there. His bright eyes gave her palpitations. She’d waited all day for his call, struggling to keep him out of her thoughts. Seeing him on the screen, a flurry of butterflies burst out of her belly, and she imagined him buried up to the hilt in her pussy.
Whether he could sense her arousal, she didn’t know, but he ended the pleasantries of greetings and catch-up news, and told her to undress and present. She knelt on the floor and adjusted the camera angle downwards. With a deep breath, she spread her legs. Coyness descended over her. She felt embarrassed by her capitulation. For most of the day, she’d been yelling down the phone at property agents, blaming them for sending her the wrong information. Oh, how they would laugh at her now, naked and exposed.
The instruction was for her to play with herself: front and back, finger up each. After squirting lubricant on her fingers—she always came prepared with a bottle—she lifted her bum, and pressed her middle finger into her anus. She slid her other hand down her wet slit and easily accommodated two fingers inside her pussy. She rocked back and forth, increasing the pace and agitation.
“Please, Sir, may I come?” she moaned. Having avoided looking at the monitor, she snuck a peak at him. He lay on the bed, unmoving. “Nope.”
