Read An Excerpt

by Alison Tyler

Genre: Erotic Romance, Erotic Fiction

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Did I think that “I love you” would change everything? That the words would magically turn Jack into some tenderhearted prince? Or a docile shadow of his former Dom self?

To my delight, neither happened. Yes, he’d said he loved me. And the three little words made all the different to our relationship. But not in the way I might have feared. Because my training by Jack intensified. He seemed more at ease leaving our gear around. There was less hiding of toys and tools. He’d leave a crop leaning against the corner in the living room for three days after he’d put it to use on my naked backside, only tossing it into the hall closet when an acquaintance from work stopped by to pick up papers.

“Can’t have that,” Jack winked at me, waiting for Allen to stop by. “He might think I beat you.”

There were handcuffs dangling from the cold-water faucet in the tub. A paddle on the kitchen countertop.

I love you had bound me to Jack.

And it had set him free. To be who he truly was. And to be that way without any fear.

The week after our trip to the club, Jack asked me to show him what I liked. To demonstrate for him how I made myself come when he wasn’t around. I hadn’t known it was obvious I did this. I’d never explained to any man how I touched myself solo. Was I embarrassed? I don’t know. The concept hadn’t come up. Although I assumed Byron jacked off solo, because otherwise, he was more monk-like than I could believe.

“Show me,” Jack insisted, “spread your legs, and show me. Or close your legs. Whatever you do. I want to see.”

I hesitated. And he didn’t rush me, didn’t seem to think this was disobedience on my part. He was patient.

 “Different ways,” I said. “It’s not always the same.”

“Show me,” Jack demanded, his voice growing more powerful. “The first way.”

I stood and stripped, enjoying myself. Nervous, because I didn’t know what Jack would do with the information. But excited, nevertheless. Jack followed me to the bathroom, where I adjusted the temperature with both faucets and then got into the tub. He seemed surprised when I leaned all the way back on the cold porcelain, bending my knees and sliding forward until the water from the faucet was raining down between my legs.

“Like that?” he said, eyes glowing.

I shifted my hips. “Yeah—”

“That will get you off?”

The water was already working, and I was having a difficult time speaking.

“Yeah, Jack.”

“Show me.”

I changed the water temperature slightly, using my feet, and Jack laughed at my dexterity.

“You want hotter or colder?”

“Depends,” I said, growing breathless. “I like cold until I’m ready to come, and then gradually warmer until I get off.”

I shut my eyes for a minute. This bath had the perfect water pressure, and the sensations were working through me. The water combined with the fact that Jack was watching and talking to me, turned me on even more.

Jack said, “You’re close, huh?”


The water stopped. Jack had turned off both faucets. “Get out and dry yourself off.”

I didn’t think of begging. I’d seen the look on Jack’s face as he’d put the crop into the closet earlier in the evening. I knew better than to mess with him. Meekly, I climbed out of the tub and let Jack wrap one of the large black towels around my body. He watched me dry off, and then he said, “What else? Show me another trick.”

I had to think for a minute, and then I hung the towel on the rack and headed down the hall. Jack followed me to our bedroom, and he seemed surprised when I went toward the hamper. I know he thought I was going to choose something from our extensive collection of toys. But I didn’t want a vibrator. I wanted his T-shirt. I plucked yesterday’s white one from the top of the hamper and then chose a fresh pair of panties from my drawer. I slid on the silky red bikinis then lay down on the bed.

Jack took up his position against our dresser, staring at me as I used one hand to touch myself through my panties—stroking my nether lips, circling my clit—and the other to bring Jack’s shirt to my face, breathing in his scent. I was already close from the water experience.

“Why don’t you touch yourself naked?”

“I always start through a barrier.”

“But why?”

I thought of being flippant. Of asking him which hand he jerked off with, and then asking, “But why?” Yet I was smarter than that. Not much smarter—a little smarter.

“I don’t know,” I told him honestly. “That’s how I do it.”

He settled back against the wall and watched, my fingers moving faster now, my breathing speeding up, until I could sense the climax, could almost taste how good the wave of pleasure would ultimately feel. But maybe part of me knew he wouldn’t let me reach my limits. Part of me understood the torture of this game. Because I was prepared for the moment when Jack said, “Stop—” and I pulled my fingers away and looked at him.

“Now,” he said, “tell me what you think about.”

“What do you mean?”

“What stories are you telling yourself when you do that?”

For some reason, this was more difficult. The demonstrating had been fun, sexy. But revealing my fantasies—on demand, anyway—that was more difficult. Generally, I found myself an actor in Jack’s scripts. Things happened to me, at Jack’s direction. I didn’t call the shots.

“Come on, Samantha…” He didn’t continue, but all I had to do was think of the loving way he’d tucked that crop away, to know he was positively itching to use it on me this evening, if I would give him one good reason. Or maybe the word if wasn’t right. Maybe the word was when.

“You know,” I said, thinking fast. “All sorts of things.” I’d had one experience like this before, over Nate’s lap, telling him about a schoolgirl fantasy. But I sensed Jack wanted more. Jack wanted me to give him a range, to let him into the X-rated library of my mind. So that he could return there on his own, so that he could pull the fantasies off the shelves and peruse them at will.

“You’re going to have to do better than that,” Jack grinned. “Much better.” He was moving toward me as he spoke, and I sensed he was about to bind me down, but he didn’t. Instead, he sat on the bed, pushed my hands to my sides, and his fingertips took over where mine had been moments before. He stroked me through my satiny panties, his hand echoing the rotations and designs my own fingertips had been expertly creating.

“A favorite,” he said. “Tell me a favorite.”

“I meet you at your office,” I told him. “After work. Everyone’s gone. I play a temp, a secretary taking the place of your regular girl. And despite everything I do, or how hard I try, I fail at all my tasks.”

As I spoke, Jack slowly started to work my panties down my thighs.

“And then—” he prompted.

“Well, it’s obvious, right? You have to punish me. You bend me across your desk, and you use a wooden ruler on me, when I accidentally disconnect an important phone call.”

“Naughty girl,” Jack murmured.

“But the thing is,” I tell him. “You’ve gotten the client back on the line, and he’s listening on speakerphone as you stripe me with the ruler. As you make me beg and cry.”

“You like that,” Jack said, between my legs now, his mouth on me. “You like people hearing you, knowing that you’re getting the punishment you deserve. You like people knowing what you are.”

“Yeah.” Jack hadn’t needed me to tell him how I liked a man to lick me. He was a master at this, his tongue touching me perfectly. Light enough. Hard enough. Making talking seem impossible.

“Do I fuck you in your fantasy?”

“No—that would be a reward, and I’m such a klutz at the job. Spilling coffee on your files—”

“Oh, that’s worth a serious over-the-knee spanking,” Jack said, his breath on me, sending me higher. "Skirt up and panties down."

“Yeah,” I told him, “and then when you really need me to overnight a slew of important papers for a client, I’ve gone to the ladies’ room to touch up my makeup.”

“Is that where I find you?”

“I'm putting on my lipstick, fixing my mascara.”

“And what do I do then?”

“You make me take my panties all the way off and bend me over the sink.”

“And what do I do to you?”

“You make me watch my own reflection as you take off your belt and thrash me. And the sounds I make echo in the tiled room. And the tears streaking down my face embarrass me. But what’s even worse is when your actual secretary comes out of the stall, having heard everything, knowing she’s the queen in this environment. That I can’t begin to compete.”

Jack pulled back. He hadn’t let me come. I’d gotten close three times now, and I was bordering on desperate.

“Is your office fantasy the same every time?”

“No, Jack. But I fuck up every time. And you punish me in different ways.”

“Another one,” he said. “Outside of the office.”

I bit my lip, thinking. “I invite Elizabeth over to watch movies, because you’ve gone out of town.”

“I have?”

“Mmm-hmm. And she and I are messing around. Having a slumber party for grown-up girls. Making frilly drinks. Painting each other’s toenails. Watching Gladiator.”

“That’s not a chick-flick.”

I shrugged.

“And then what?”

We ruin the coffee table.”

“How do you do that?”

“Cherries in the Snow spills when I reach for my drink, and when I use remover to get the polish off, the chemicals wreck the wood.”

“That table cost more than fifteen thousand dollars.”

“I know.”

“And…” He had resumed his circles now, but was moving slowly, so slowly.

“You come home then—right when I’m trying to figure out what to do—”

“I like this one,” he said, “another punishment in front of an audience. But this time, it’s someone you know. Someone who doesn’t know anything about you. Not truly. Is that right?”

“Yes, Jack.”

“And I let her watch before I send her home?”

“Yes, Jack—”

“Watch what exactly?”

“You see the color on the bottle, and you promise my ass will match that hue before you’re done.”

"Too bad you didn’t choose a light pink. It had to be red, huh?"

"Yes, Jack."

“Sweet,” Jack said, and I could tell he wasn’t messing with me, because he sat up then, stripped quickly, and flipped me on the bed. In seconds, he was inside of me, fucking me hard, knowing exactly how prepped I was by all that foreplay.

“And now?” he said. “What are you thinking of now?”

“I don’t—” I panted. “I don’t tell stories while we fuck.”

“But what do you think about?”

“What you might do to me next.”

He slapped my ass hard. “Like that?”

“Yes, Sir.”

And again, in rhythm now to the way he was fucking me. I felt transported by having been on the edge for so long, and when Jack pressed against me, running one hand over my pussy, pinching my clit between his finger and thumb, I came in a series of glittering waves.

“I think we will plan a slumber party,” he said, pressing his face against my neck as he gripped my hips. I could tell he was close. “But I think we’ll invite Alex, instead.”

And then he was coming, holding me tight and coming hard. Coming to the fantasies in my own head. Fantasies that blended and melded with his own.