Chapter 22
Riley
Iemailed Deacon the work I’d finished and, trying to keep my resentment in check, walked to his desk and knelt on the cushion beside his chair. He didn’t acknowledge me, and I bowed my head and stared at my lap.
I was nearly vibrating with anger and anxiety and had been for the last day and a half. My stomach was one big knot, and I hadn’t eaten a proper meal since my fight with Deacon yesterday. I hadn’t even thought once of cancelling tonight, though. And not just because of the money.
I was a rich stew of hostility and hurt, but, frustratingly, I also wanted him with an intensity I could barely contain. I wasn’t used to my emotions being so out of control, and between my anxiety for my mother and now my exasperation with Deacon, I wanted a release. The kind only he could give me.
You could find someone else. He’s not the only guy out there who can fulfill your kink and make you come.
As always, just the thought of kneeling for someone else, of allowing them to touch me, made me feel sick to my stomach. That in itself was worrisome - I barely knew Deacon, and feeling like I belonged to him was some weird little fetish that I needed to get over.
Only I had no idea how to get over it, and, instead, it grew stronger with every moment I spent with him. If I didn’t get my shit together, by the time he finished working for Aiden, I’d have myself convinced we were in a relationship or some bullshit like that.
I glanced discreetly at the clock above the fireplace. Deacon had given me so much work tonight that I’d been worried I wouldn’t finish within the two hours, especially with the headache that thudded at my skull. But I’d focused, and while there was only half an hour left of our session, that would be enough time for me to give him a blowjob and for him to make me come.
Enough time to be fucked, too.
I flushed bright red. The sex dream I’d had last night, the one where Deacon was in my bed and between my legs, was why I couldn’t stop thinking about fucking him. I knew his rules and breaking them wasn’t an option. At least not for him. Me, on the other hand? I was obsessed with how it might feel to have his thick cock sliding into me, stretching me in all the right ways, and making me feel whole.
I realized with a jolt that Deacon wasn’t touching me. His big hand wasn’t cupping the back of my skull and urging me to rest my cheek against his leg. I looked up at him, the heat rising in my cheeks, when I realized he was staring at me, too.
After a moment, when he didn’t say anything, I said, “What?”
My tone was snotty, and I didn’t miss the flare of irritation in his eyes for speaking without permission. I was being a brat. I was acting out because I was looking for his attention - good or bad. Christ, what was wrong with me?
“You’ve finished everything I gave you?” He indicated to my unopened email I could see on his screen.
“I wouldn’t be kneeling here if I hadn’t.”
His irritation deepened, and what did it say about me that his reaction lit something inside me? Something that felt dangerous and decadent and delicious.
He took a deep breath before turning back to his computer. Instead of opening my email and reviewing my work, he sent me a new email with a document attached. “Return to your desk and work on what I’ve just sent you.”
I stayed where I was, hurt and fresh indignation rocketing through me. “You didn’t look at what I sent you.”
He arched an eyebrow at me. “Do as I say, Ri - Charlotte.”
I stood and whirled around. I took only a single step before turning back. “I want an orgasm.”
His eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline. “Excuse me?”
“I did the work you asked me to do. Now I want an orgasm,” I said, my hands clenching into fists.
He stood, his face now weirdly calm. “Go to your desk, Charlotte.”
He glanced at the clock. It was fleeting, and his expression didn’t change, but what he was doing suddenly became crystal clear.
“You’re doing this on purpose,” I said. “Giving me work until the session is over. That’s not fair.”
“You’re here to do what I tell you,” he said. “Return to your desk.”
“No,” I said.
“You’re being a brat, Charlotte,” he said.
“What are you going to do about it?” I said, ratcheting up the snottiness to about a thousand.
His dark eyes narrowed, and I squeaked in surprise when he yanked me into his embrace. His big hand slid into my hair and pulled tight, tugging my head back until I stared directly at him.
His erection pressed against my stomach, and I rubbed against it eagerly. He ground his teeth together before his lips flattened. “You are very close to having the brat fucked out of you, Riley.”
Hot and oh-so-sweet desire flared in me, and I moaned when Deacon bent his head and nipped the base of my throat. The sharp nip only heightened my need, and I clutched at his narrow waist, rubbing against his cock again.
He kissed me hard, and I returned it eagerly, accepting the hot thrust of his tongue and the sting of his teeth as they scraped against my lip. When we pulled apart, I gasped in some needed oxygen, staring wildly at him as he ran his thumb over my bottom lip.
“Do you want to be fucked, Riley?”
“Yes,” I said. “Yes, I want that, sir.”
“You’ve been a bad girl today. Why should I reward you?”
My body vibrating, and certain I would be the first woman to die from arousal if he didn’t fuck me, I said, “Please, sir. Please, I need it.”
I made an actual shameful whine when he shook his head. “I don’t give bad girls what they want.”
“I’ll be your good girl from now on,” I said. “I promise. Please fuck me, Mr. Cross.”
His nostrils flared when I said his name, and hope blossomed inside me for a moment. It died when he released his grip on my hair and shook his head, sliding his arm around my waist. “No. But if you accept your punishment tonight like a good girl, I will consider fucking you at a future play session.”
The look on his face made it clear he wouldn’t budge on his decision. In a soft voice full of disappointment, I said, “Yes, sir.”
I tried to leave his embrace, ready to return to my desk and finish the work he’d sent me, resigned to the fact that I wouldn’t get the relief I needed. Not tonight.
His arm tightened around my waist. “Where are you going?”
“To my desk,” I said.
“Your punishment,” he reminded me.
“I thought that was my punishment.”
His fierce grin sent a fresh wave of lust over me, along with just the tiniest sliver of fear. “Sir?”
“You’ve been a bad girl tonight. Not just tonight but yesterday and today at the office, too. Isn’t that right, Riley?”
I nodded, unable to look away from the dark gleam of his eyes. I wasn’t required to be his good girl outside these play sessions and certainly not at the office, but I didn’t argue with him. I wanted to be his good girl… always.
“I think a spanking will help you remember to be my good girl.” His hand slid down to my ass and squeezed roughly. “Do you agree?”
Liquid heat turned my insides to mush. I’d only been a blip on the impact play chart, so why did the thought of Deacon spanking me make my pussy soaking wet?
“Answer me, Riley.” His hand squeezed my ass again.
“Yes, sir,” I said in a low voice.
He studied me, peeling me back layer by layer until I felt as exposed as a raw nerve. His hand tightened on my ass, and for a moment, I thought he might take back what he said, that he would give me a quick spank to the ass and a lighthearted admonishment to be his good girl from now on before he sent me on my merry way.
Before disappointment could settle in my stomach, he turned me around to face his desk, his breath warm on the back of my neck when he said, “Give me a safe word, sweet Riley.”
I’d never thought twice about a safe word before, but it danced from my lips like it’d been waiting years to be born. “Tulip.”
His fingers traced my spine through my thin shirt, lighting up every single nerve ending in its path. “Lift your skirt and bend over my desk.”
Nerves and anticipation danced in my stomach. Was I really going to do this? Was I going to let Deacon spank my bare ass?
My shaking fingers hiking my skirt up to my waist was my answer. I bent over this desk, resting my flushed cheek against the smooth wood as the cool air washed over my naked lower half.
“Spread your legs,” Deacon said.
I shifted my thighs apart, gasping when Deacon lightly slapped my inner thigh. “Wider and arch your back for me.”
I spread them wide, feeling exposed and vulnerable and exquisitely turned on as I arched my back, forcing my ass up.
His phone alarm went off. Deacon silenced it and tossed his phone into the desk drawer. His fingers rubbed against my pussy, and I cried out, my hands latching onto the desk’s edge in front of me.
“You’re so fucking wet already, baby.” Deacon’s voice was hoarse with need and appreciation.
He thumbed my clit, making a soft sound of approval when I rocked frantically against the pressure. “Don’t come, Riley.”
“Please, sir,” I said.
“Your punishment first,” he said.
“Then get the fuck on with it!”
I cringed, immediately expecting a hard slap for my impertinence. Deacon chuckled and smoothed a hand over my bare ass. “Do you know how pretty you look right now, sweet Riley? Your soft thighs spread wide, and your ass in the air as you present your wet cunt to me. I’ve never seen anything so fucking beautiful in my life.”
“Please, Deacon,” I moaned. “Please.”
Using his first name earned me my first real spank. I squealed and reared up, fingers digging into the desk as Deacon said, “You refer to me as sir or Mr. Cross in a play scene. Have you forgotten that?”
“No, sir,” I moaned. “I’m sorry, sir.”
My ass stung from just that one slap. What had I gotten myself into?
“Better,” he said. He rubbed the back of my thighs. “Twenty spanks for your bratty behaviour. You will count them out for me. If you forget, I’ll add another spank. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir,” I said. My heart jackrabbited in my chest, and my breath came in harsh pants.
“Your safe word, baby,” he said. “Tell me again.”
“Tulip,” I said.
“If you want me to stop…”
“I say tulip,” I said.
I waited for his good girl and, instead, got a hard spank across my left cheek that burned like fire. I squeaked out a “One!” and tried not to tense when Deacon spanked me another four times, pausing between each one to give me time to holler out a number.
After the fifth spank, he slipped his hand between my legs and rubbed my clit. I cried out and half-rose off the desk. His big hand landed on my lower back with a thud and pinned me to the desk as he slipped two fingers into my cunt and fucked me hard with them.
I moaned and wriggled, humping against his hand with desperate need. Before I could come, he pulled his hand free and leaned over me. He pressed his fingers against my mouth. “Suck them clean, Riley.”
I sucked on his fingers eagerly, cleaning away my taste from his skin. He pulled them free with a wet pop. “Good girl.”
“Thank you, sir,” I said.
Without speaking, he gave me another five hard spanks. My voice hitched when I shouted “ten,” and Deacon immediately cupped my pussy, his fingers rubbing at my clit until I forgot about the burning in my ass, and I was moaning happily.
He leaned over me and pressed his fingers against my mouth again. “Suck, good girl.”
I cleaned his fingers again, and he smoothed back a few strands of hair that rested against my sweaty cheek. “Only ten more, little Riley.”
“Yes, sir,” I moaned.
My ass was on fire, but I dutifully called out each spank. When Deacon didn’t stop at fifteen, I cried out, trying to rise from the desk. I needed the break, needed his fingers to help me forget how fucking painful my ass now was.
He’d slapped my ass again before I realized I hadn’t counted sixteen.
“One more added,” he said.
“No!” I begged. “Sir, no, I’m sorry. I forgot, but I won’t -”
He spanked me again, and I cried out, my ass on fire and tears starting to slide down my cheek. “Seventeen!”
The final four slaps were pure agony against my throbbing ass, and I sobbed the last few numbers brokenly. As soon as “twenty-one” spilled from my lips, Deacon thrust his hand between my legs and rubbed hard at my clit.
The pain in my ass turned dim and meaningless as I babbled incoherently and humped against his fingers. When they slipped inside of me, I cried his name, twisting against the pressure of his hand on my lower back as he fucked me hard with his fingers. He returned to my clit, rubbing it in firm circles, and I screamed as I came hard, the pleasure nearly overwhelming in its intensity.
I collapsed against the smooth wood, moaning and panting as I heard the faint sound of Deacon’s zipper. When the blunt head of his cock slipped up and down my slit, I automatically spread my legs and arched my back again. He groaned, and for one delicious fleeting moment, I felt the pressure of that blunt head pressing against my entrance before it retreated.
“No,” I moaned. “Sir, don’t stop!”
“Hush, good girl,” he panted. “Christ, you’re so fucking beautiful. Be my good girl and hold still for me… don’t move… stay just like that, just like… fuuuck!”
Warm liquid splashed onto my burning ass and the back of my thighs. Deacon’s groans competed with the sexy sound of him rubbing his cock, and I twitched wildly when he smoothed a hand over my lower back. “Stay there, baby.”
I stayed where I was as Deacon left the office, my body limp and sated, and my brain finally silent. When Deacon returned, he cleaned me gently with a warm, damp cloth before squeezing my hip. “Can you stand for me?”
I stood, weaving in my heels when I tried to turn to face him. He steadied me before pulling my skirt down. He ran his thumb over my tear-stained cheek. “Okay?”
“Yes,” I said before starting to cry.
He immediately pulled me into his arms, and I clung to him. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry for being a brat and a bad girl.”
“Shh.” He rubbed my back. “Don’t cry, baby. You’re not a bad girl. You’re my good girl, and I’m proud of you. You did so good tonight. I’m so happy with you and how well you took your spanking. You’re my good girl, Riley.”
I clung to him, soaking in his praise and his touch, contentment and peace driving away the last of my worry. I had no idea how long we stood there while he rubbed my back and told me I was his good girl, but when we finally eased apart, my feet ached from standing in my heels, and his shirt was noticeably damp from my tears.
“Sorry,” I said, touching his shirt.
He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. Do you feel better?”
“Much,” I said. “I was so… so upset and overwhelmed, and my brain felt like a chipmunk on meth, and now I just feel… content. Is that weird? To feel better because of a spanking and an orgasm?”
He smiled. “No, it’s not weird.”
I took a deep breath and glanced at the clock. It was almost nine-thirty, and I tried not to be disappointed when I stepped away from him, and he let me. “It’s getting late.”
“Yes,” he said.
I was nervous about what I was about to say but I needed to be clear with him. “I don’t want to play with you if we’re not going to play. Please don’t book me again if you’re only going to make me work. It isn’t all about the money for me. I… I need my kink satisfied, too.”
Shame flickered across his face. “Riley, I was out of line when I asked you about the money thing. I shouldn’t have done that, and I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” I said.
We stared at each other silently for nearly thirty seconds before I cleared my throat. What the hell was I still doing here? Could he tell I hoped he’d ask me to stay? How freaking pathetic was that?
I smiled at him. “Good night, Mr. Cross, I mean… Mr. Steele.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw, and for a moment, I thought I saw the same longing in his face that I felt before he looked away. “Good night, Charlotte.”