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“So?”
“I don’t, not like that.”
“I like the way you come, I’m in control,” Miles said.
“But perhaps we could climax together, sometime?”
“We will Tessa. Just remember, our arrangement isn’t about romance and fine artistry, it’s about sex.”
Chapter Six
Miles threw Tessa an old sweatshirt. “Here put this on,” he told her.
Tossing the faded gray over her soft curls, the sweatshirt fell lewdly off one shoulder.
Miles enjoyed the look “And these should do,” he added as he handed her a pair of biker shorts that fit skintight around her ass. The Lycra rubbed against her sore stripes, and with each move she made, the discomfort reminded her they were there. She was certain Miles had planned it that way.
“Where are we going?” she asked, when they were in his small sports car, speeding away from the garret, top down, wind blowing through her hair. Such sumptuous freedom.
“I’m taking you home.”
“To my apartment?” She was startled.
“Is that not home?”
“Well, yes. I suppose it is.” She could hardly mask her disappoint.
They rode in silence, the sound of the wind making it too difficult to hear each other. Miles was typically silent; and Tessa, realizing that her extended “date” with her Dominant lover was over, didn’t want to talk. She was already missing him, and the garret, the floggers, the whips and his unbridled imagination.
At her apartment, Miles followed her into the building and crossed the lobby to the elevators where they waited in a fitful silence for the elevator to reach ground level. When the behemoth machine ground to a stop, the doors pulled apart, an impatient Martine ran into them as she was exiting. Her brisk departure interrupted, she looked at the two in amazement.
“Well, where the hell have you been?” Martine grilled her roommate.
“This is Miles,” Tessa said. As usual, Martine was wearing black from head to toe. Sometimes she looked like a witch, taking her somber air to the extreme; but today she was quite attractive, in a filmy black skirt and blouse that draped around her small firm frame. Her long hair was tied atop her head like a Gibson girl, with little wisps falling around her face, softening the effect of her stern eyes and tight set jaw.
“Ah! The dominant,” Martine remarked, taking Miles’ hand in hers and looking him squarely in the eye. She was impressed—and so little impressed the jaded Martine. “You’ve been whipping her butt? She likes that you know?” The three strolled together toward the front door.
“Yes, I’ve been taking good care of her,” Miles said, pleasantly, with his eyes totally fixed on the forthright Martine.
It frightened Tessa seeing her lovers standing side by side, though she wasn’t sure yet why the jolt of trepidation flew through her like a Halloween bat.
“Yes, you do that, Miles Bryce. You take good care of my Tessa,” Martine said, “perhaps you’ll discover what I’ve known about her all along.”
“And what is that?” Miles inquired.
“Her sexual greed. There’s nothing she won’t do for her cunt.”
Miles nodded as if he understood, not once did he take his eyes off the irrepressible woman. “Thank you for your appraisal, I’ll keep that in mind.” He shook her hand familiarly as if he’d known her for some time.
“Yes, I’m glad we met,” Martine added with a secretive smile, and she was out the door.
“You’re lovers?” Miles guessed, as he watched the distinctive swish of Martine’s ass. “Sometimes,” Tessa replied.
“And she knows your sexual tastes. I thought you said you’ve never been whipped. Did you lie to me?”
“No. I’ve never been whipped, until you. Martine just knows me—or so she thinks. She does enjoy taking advantage of me whenever she likes.”
“Takes advantage of you—you’re telling me you don’t like making love to her?”
