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TWENTY-THREE
After a long morning at The Ranch, Foster and I were standing inside my doorway. He handed me the thick binder he’d gotten from Colby. Foster had made me sit in on a new members class but had warned me that the introductory session had only scratched the surface. My mind was still whirling with all the information on pre-scene negotiations, contracts, and hard limits—all mixing in with my epic lack of sleep last night, it made for a foggy brain. I hugged the binder to my chest.
Foster crossed his arms and looked down at me, the professor to the student. “Here’s what you’re going to do. I have some things to take care of tomorrow, and Monday I’m out of town. If I’d realized this was going to happen, I wouldn’t have scheduled all of that, but now it’s too late to get out of it. So you have the next two days to study the binder and call me or email me with any questions that come up. Anything you’re not sure about, ask. When we get together next time, I want you to have a working knowledge of the basics.”
My jaw went slack. “You want me to learn all of this in two days?”
He smirked. “Cela, all you’ve done these last few years is study and cram; you’re a pro. And, of course, you won’t learn everything in two days. This will give you a foundation. We’ll work on the rest together through direct instruction. That’s the fun part.”
I wet my lips, the image of exactly how he would instruct me making warmth stir low and fast. “Yes, sir.”
“What’s your schedule like this week?”
“I’m off. I was supposed to be going home, so they’d scheduled someone else in my place. And I can’t tell Dr. Pelham that I’m accepting the new position until next week. She’s on a cruise.”
He reached out and shut my front door, not allowing the empty hallway to eavesdrop on us. “Perfect. That will give you time to focus on this. And until I see you again on Tuesday, you aren’t allowed to get off—by any means.”
My cheeks went hot. “I think I can restrain myself for two days.”
“That confident, huh?” His lips curled as he slowly backed me up against the wall, the binder trapped between us. “Reading about all those illicit things, imagining me doing them to you, is going to get you hot, angel.” His hand slid down my hip and cupped my ass, pulling me tight against his erection. “You’re going to get flushed like you are right now. And wet. And suddenly it’s going to be very tempting to relieve all that tension.”
I swallowed hard, the words making everything go needy and desperate inside me. Even after our night and morning at The Ranch, I couldn’t seem to get enough of his touch. He was creating some sort of weird, addictive response in me. I thought of all those animal experiments I’d had to learn about in school—mice hitting levers for pellets. Maybe he was right. At the moment, I was ready to smack that lever again and was finding it hard to imagine not having an orgasm in the next five minutes, much less the next few days. “I’ll manage.”
He kissed the spot behind my ear, sending goose bumps down my shoulder and along my back. “Is that right? Well, I was going to give you a little something to get you through the next few days. But if you can manage . . .”
He tried to step back, and I grabbed fistfuls of his shirt. The binder thumped on the floor between us. “Wait, please.”
His low laugh sent a ripple of anticipation through me. “Stay against the wall and take off your panties. Now.”
Guh. I shivered. What was that? Why did my body go tingly and hot the minute he got bossy? Even after finding out about this whole submission thing, I still couldn’t wrap my head around the thought that I really fit that label. But I wasn’t going to question my responses right now. Not when he was looking at me like that. I pressed my back against the wall and let him go this time when he extracted himself from my grip. I quickly slid my underwear off and tossed them to the side, ready for whatever he was about to do as long as it meant him relieving this throbbing need inside me.
He walked over to the black bag he’d carried back with him from The Ranch and dug through an outside pocket. His back was to me and blocked the view of whatever he was getting. But when he turned around, he had some kind of dark purple silicone toy in his hand. My gaze darted from it to him then back to the toy. My knees went a little weak.
He stepped in front of me and shoved my skirt up to my hips, exposing everything. Cool air kissed my damp skin. “Spread your legs.”
“Yes, sir.” Pressing my palms to the wall behind me, I followed his instructions, my high heels wobbling a bit beneath me as I widened my stance.
He braced a hand next to my head against the wall and leaned into my space, his breath hot against my cheek. Then he was rubbing the cool silicone against my cleft. A little moan escaped. I was so wound up already, even such gentle stroking had my body tightening. “You’re so very wet, angel. The challenge for you is going to be to keep this in place. Because this is the only way you’ll get what you want.”
Before I could respond, the tip of the toy was pushing inside me, stretching me and sliding deep. I closed my eyes to breathe through the sensation, but then Foster settled the other curved part of the device against my clit and turned it on. Everything began to hum. “Oh, God.”
He sucked on the lobe of my ear before whispering. “Don’t you dare come before I do or there will be consequences. Now, on your knees, Cela.”
My eyelids snapped open, but his gaze was dead serious. He guided my legs back together to make sure I held on to the vibrator, then he was pressing down on my shoulder to push me to my knees. I landed on the little flowered rug I had bought at a thrift store. Never had I imagined it’d be used for this purpose. But where I’d gotten my decor soon fled from my mind as Foster’s belt buckle filled my vision. His erection was outlined by the leather, and I’m not sure I’d ever seen a more erotic sight. I wanted to lick him through it.
“I expect you know what to do, Cela,” Foster said, his gaze heavy on me.
The vibrator was making my thoughts knock into each other, but as if my body caught up before my mind did, I lifted my hands and unfastened his buckle and pants. There was nothing beneath but skin—flat belly, a smattering of hair, and unrepentant arousal. God, he was beautiful. Every part of him so potent and masculine. My inner muscles clenched around the toy, and I had to take a long breath to pull myself back from the edge.
“Good girl,” Foster said, sliding his fingers into my hair and taking his cock in his other hand to stroke it. “You’ll learn to channel your focus. Your pleasure will be dependent on mine, and your own release will not be your end goal—pleasing me will be. That will be where you’ll find your satisfaction.”
In the light of day, that statement might’ve sounded ludicrous, sexist, and misogynistic. But in that moment, as he slid his cock into my mouth, his taste gliding over my tongue and my body riding the vibrator, I wanted nothing more than to do exactly that—please the ever-loving shit out of him.
I relaxed my throat and moved forward, bringing him as far back as I could, then swirled my tongue around him as I pulled backward again. I laved around the head. He groaned with appreciation, and I felt it all the way to my bone marrow. “You’re better at this than you realize.”
I smiled inwardly. The A-plus, perfectionistic student in me had actually researched technique on the Internet the other night, but no amount of torture would make me admit that information out loud. So instead I went to work on demonstrating what I’d learned and driving him into oblivion. Nothing was hotter than hearing the gruff sounds he made, tasting him on my tongue, and inhaling his scent—clean sweat and leather and something un
iquely his. Falling into that moment almost took my mind away from the relentless, coaxing stimulation between my thighs—the climbing urge to come.
