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I’d fucking light into you, he texted.I’d leather your ass until you screamed.
I didn’t need to fantasize to imagine him doing that. He’d given me a severe belt spanking in São Miguel, one I’d never forget. I rubbed my clit and slid my nipples across the carpet, trying to hold off, trying to make things last, but it was impossible with Devin. Another orgasm came, as hard and long as the last one, while my phone continued to ping beside me, delivering arousing, sadistic threats from half a globe away.
Chapter Fourteen: Devin
Iarrived atElla’s door at seven o’clock on Tuesday night, eager to see her. To touch her. When she answered, she was wearing a little black dress, strappy sandals, and those damned intellectual glasses. She was a porno scientist. I stepped inside her apartment and cupped her chin within my fingers.
“Have you been a good girl?” I asked, drawing out the words, studying her face.
The look she returned was priceless. Part scared, part guilty, and part delighted that I’d asked. Because she hadn’t been good, that was obvious. I shook my head. “You naughty little horndog.” I lifted off her glasses, glaring at her. “You disobeyed my orders. I can see it in your eyes.”
“I was mostly good,” she pleaded. “I only slipped up once.”
I tsked, gripping her chin harder. “You mean you ignored what I told you on the phone?”
“Please, Sir, I’m sorry.”
She shifted on her toes as I fixed her in my most intimidating glare. “We’ll have to take care of your behavior later,” I said. “Michelle is expecting us.”
Her lower lip trembled with such delicious fear that I couldn’t resist biting it, and once I bit her lip, I couldn’t resist kissing her. The spell took over me, the one that gripped me whenever she was around. I ended the kiss as abruptly as I’d dived into it, and replaced her glasses.
We got in my car for the ride to Michelle’s studio for Ella’s fitting. Most women ooh’d and aah’d over my car’s luxury interior and European purr, but Ella was interested in the science, as usual. She asked about horsepower and fuel mileage, and complimented the engineering behind the streamlined chassis. I wanted to fuck her brain right through her skull because she hit on all the reasons this was my favorite car.
When we exhausted my car as a topic, I asked how her work was going. She deflected and asked, “How is everything with the crash? I mean, the near-crash? The investigation?”
“Everything’s fine,” I assured her. “They traced the leak to a faulty part from a manufacturer, so Gibraltar’s off the hook, and Ayal and I were commended for keeping our cool and landing the plane.”
That was the short version. The long version had been two days of testimony, and playback of our cockpit conversations with air traffic control, which was eerie, because I’d barely remembered the things I’d said. I’d spoken in a flat, disconnected voice, doing what needed to be done, deploying the coping mechanisms I’d developed as a child when my father, my first father, my real father, had beaten me or my mother.
I shook those memories away and fielded her questions about NTSB post-accident protocols until we arrived at Michelle’s place. The truth was, I couldn’t wait to put the crash ordeal behind me. Right now, it was one of the few experiences Ella and I shared, but that would change soon, when we made new memories at The Gallery. I’d invited plenty of women there over the years, but none quite so masochistically gifted as Ella.
She was going to be really fucking fun.
Michelle was an older submissive who frequented The Gallery, who also held a degree in theatrical costuming. She spent her days outfitting the Metropolitan Ballet, but she’d been moonlighting as our exclusive costumer for as long as I could remember.
“Got a new one for you, Michelle,” I said, as we stepped into her workshop. “Ella’s anxious to try out The Gallery. She’s ready for it,” I added, as Michelle raised a brow.
“I hope so, ifyou’regoing to be her sponsor,” she teased.
I chose not to explain to Ella that the costumer and I were good friends because I brought so many women to be fitted. Michelle, the epitome of circumspection, didn’t give that away, just whipped out her tape measure and asked Ella to undress.
Out of respect for Michelle’s workspace, I didn’t pull out my dick and masturbate to all this, but I wanted to. There was something about the process: the girl-on-girl primping, the smoothness of the tape measure against Ella’s skin, the effort to please the male gaze. As Michelle worked, she described the various aspects of the uniform, from the nipple-exposing bra to the body-skimming garter belt and stockings. I could see Ella getting more and more excited. Her nipples were hard as rocks. I wanted to hurt them.
I would hurt them. Soon.
When her fitting was done, and Michelle had all the necessary measurements tucked away in her book, I took my sexy scientist to a dim, noisy sushi bar I visited whenever I was in SoHo. Ella didn’t like to chat about her work, but I forced her to do it anyway, for two reasons. One, because it was the only thing that would keep me from looking at her like a piece of sex-meat the entire dinner, and two, because I’d grown fond of the way her eyes lit up when she talked about the vastness of the universe and the elasticity of time.
Instead, she told me about the men she was working with, making all of them sound like nerdy bores. Did she think of herself that way? She was fucking interesting to me, for all the filthiest reasons. I tried to focus on the words she was saying, not the fact that I wanted to stick my cock between her lips. Her phone buzzed on the table between us, demanding her attention.
She looked down at it, then muted the ringer. “My dad,” she said.
I didn’t know why that surprised me, that she had a dad and that he might call her on a Tuesday night. “You can call him back if you need to talk,” I said.
“I don’t need to talk to him right now. I’ll call him later.” She sighed, kind of laughed. “He only wants to talk about my research.”
“Is he a scientist, too?” I asked. “Because my dad’s a pilot. Well, my adoptive dad.”
“You were adopted?”
