Chapter 22
Isabelle
"And what kind of man do I want, James?" I ask, surprised at his honesty but sad that he feels so inadequate. He doesn’t have a clue how gorgeous he is and how much of a catch he makes. What the hell has his divorce done to him?
"Young, experienced, able to give you what you want," he says, his voice quieter now but taking on a deeper, huskier tone.
"James, let me tell you what I want," I say, deciding it’s time for Belle to make an appearance.
I stand and step into his frame, crowding him against the bar. I run my finger down his shirt buttons, trailing over his chest, his breathing quickens under my touch. Goosebumps trail down my spine at how responsive he is to me. He will be fun to play with, for sure.
Yes, Miss
"I want a man who will kneel for me. Who will hand himself over to me entirely. A man who will put his trust in me and accept my instructions without question," I murmur.
My gaze drifts from his chest to his eyes, darker now with lust. His breathing shallows, and his hands grip the bar top behind him.
I step in closer, my breasts now lightly brushing against his chest. My hands drop to his hips, pulling him against me, his now-hard cock pressing into my hip.
His breath catches, and a small moan escapes his lips.
"A man who will beg for more, crawl to me, and make me scream his name..." I trail off, stroking my hands around to his back and pulling him tight against me. "It's not too much to ask for, is it, James? Can you be that man?"
I give him my most innocent face, step back, and look up at him through my lashes.
He stands there like a deer in the headlights, and I shriek internally.
I have him, and he looks so good. His chest rises and falls with his panting, his erection now clearly visible for anyone to see.
He runs his hand through his hair, letting it fall over his eyes, as he licks his lips, swallowing hard.
His Adam’s apple bobs in his throat as he locks eyes with me and gives me a slow nod.
"Do you want to play with me, James?" I ask, my voice thick with anticipation as I step forward and run my
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palms over his chest, stroking the lapels of his jacket. "I promise to take it very slow. Do you trust me, James?"
"Yes," he groans, dropping his head down next to mine.
Oh, he will be an excellent sub.
"Yes, what, James? Be clear with your response. Communication is essential. I need to know where you are mentally at all times. Do you understand?"
"Yes, I trust you." His voice lowers, husky against my ear.
"And do you want to play tonight?"
"Yes, I do." He closes his eyes, and his hands come to grip my hips. His fingertips dig in with desperation.
"Well done, James. I know it's hard for you to say, and I appreciate your trust. I will always do my best to keep you safe and honour that trust. I will always reward you when you do well, but I will also discipline you if you disobey. Do you understand? And remember to use your words."
James opens his eyes and searches my face, clearly deep in thought, a look of hesitation fleeting across his face. He swallows and seems to brace himself. "Yes, I understand.”
"Follow me," I say softly, seeing the nerves eating him up. I walk us to the hallway and book a private room with
Yes, Miss
the concierge. I take the key and lead James down the hallway. The sconces on the walls cast warm, cosy lighting, with their soft glow scattered along the plush burgundy carpet.
I open the door and step aside, allowing James space to enter the room in his own time.
The lighting is low, with a bed against the far wall, a small sofa to the right, and a worktop with cupboards on the left.
I had asked for the most vanilla room from the concierge, so James isn’t overwhelmed with BDSM equipment and furniture.
James stands near the door and shrugs off his jacket, tossing it over the back of the sofa.
"Iz, I haven't a clue what to do. I’m sorry, I just… I mean, don’t get me wrong, I know how to have sex, I know how to…
Shit, you know what I mean, Iz. I just don’t know how to do this…
" He sputters out, flustered as he gestures to the room.
My stomach twists at how confused and lost he looks.
I wish he could relax and embrace the experience.
"Sit on the sofa, James. Hands by your sides," I say gently. I remember my first time in the club; it hasn’t been all that long ago. James looks at the sofa and back at me. I raise my eyebrow. "Remember what I said, James. Reward or discipline. It’s your choice."
He steps in front of the sofa and sits, looking down at the cushions, then places his hands flat before glancing back at me, seeking confirmation that he’s done as I asked. "Thank you, James." I walk over to him and kneel
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between his knees. His eyebrows crease in confusion. "James, please understand something. You will submit to me and do as I ask. But don’t ever think I won’t get on my knees for you. I will always want to suck your dick. Is that okay?"
He lets out a surprised chuckle and gives me his lopsided grin. He relaxes into the back of the sofa and runs his hand through his hair again. "Isabelle, I would be fucking insane to say no to that."
He looks so sexy sitting there, legs spread open, his hair tousled.
"First things first, James. Some ground rules. Have you heard of safe, sane, and consensual? Or the red, amber, green system?"
He nods.
"Tell me what you understand it to be. I want to be clear that you know how to use it."
"Red if I need you to stop, amber if I need you to slow down, and green if I’m happy to carry on."
"If I ask you what colour, you must answer, or everything stops.
" I lean in, kissing his thighs, his muscles firm beneath his trousers.
A small moan escapes his lips as his head drops back, his hands moving to my head.
I stop kissing. "James, hands back in position, please.
" His head snaps up, and I sit back on my heels. His hands fall
Yes, Miss
to his sides again. "Remember who’s in charge." He nods, and I rise to stand over him. His eyes track my movements.
Kneeling over him, I straddle his hips and lower myself onto his lap, bracing my arms over his shoulders.
Face to face now, I take my time studying him—his deep brown eyes, almost black in this light, framed by long lashes, strong arched brows, and an angled squared jawline, a slight shadow of stubble dusting his cheeks.
His lips, slightly parted and full, beg to be kissed.
Running a finger along his jaw, I press it to his mouth.
His tongue emerges, licking my fingertip before I push it deeper.
He swirls his tongue around it, warm and wet.
I pull free with a soft pop, then lean in, brushing my lips against his.
Our breaths mingle, his sweet with rum and vanilla, making me want to lick and taste them.
His breathing quickens as I rock my hips in slow circles, feeling him harden beneath me. His cock rubs against my core, his breaths turning shallow, panting, until I still, settling fully onto him. His head falls back, eyes closing.
"Look at me, James." His eyes flutter open slowly, his pupils wide with lust. It’s time for his first lesson in restraint.
I sit back and reach behind me to unzip my dress, slowly lowering the straps over my shoulders.
His eyes follow every slight movement of my fingers, his hips starting to rock beneath me.
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"Stay still, James," I instruct. His hips stop instantly, his eyes now locked on mine. "You are not allowed to touch me until I tell you to."
His head nods slowly. His hands bunch into the fabric of the sofa, and his teeth drag over his bottom lip, biting gently.
I’ve never wanted to be someone’s lip until this moment, aching to feel his teeth sink into my skin.
I drop my dress to reveal my black lace bra, my nipples visibly pebbled through the fabric.
I sit there, luxuriating in the heat under my skin from the way his eyes roam over me.
"I want to feel your warm skin against mine. I want to kiss them, take them into my mouth," he groans.
"Like this?" I tease, running my hands over my breasts and tugging on my nipples, letting a small groan of pleasure slip from my lips. His hands dig into the sofa, and I start to rock my hips slowly.
"Oh, oh God…" he moans. He’s doing so well.
"You’re a good boy, aren’t you, James? Desperate to touch me but doing as you’re told. I’m very impressed." I lean forward and press my lips to his, a shiver running down my spine at the contact.
"Can I kiss you? Please?" he begs.
"Yes." And at that, his lips part, starved and desperate. His hands stay down by his sides, but his tongue pushes against mine, searching for connection. "Touch me,
Yes, Miss
James," I breathe out, begging to feel his hands on me now, craving his touch. He grabs my hips, rocking me back and forth, pushing me down onto his hard bulge, making me moan and meet his movements. His hand moves to my breasts, cupping them. I’m startled by how gentle he is.
His movements slow to an almost complete stop.
"Colour?" I ask, concerned he might have spooked at something.
"Oh, it’s a definite green," he laughs. "I just want to take my time. I’ve pictured these so many times since you came back, but Jesus, Iz, they’re so much better in real life."
A little laugh escapes me as I watch his face, his fingers slowly tracing the lace of my bra, his thumb brushing over my hard nipples.
He sits forward, bringing his lips down to my breasts, kissing them while massaging them.
His touch is warm and firm, leaving me in total ecstasy.
I sit back, my hands on his knees behind me, arching my spine as my head drops backwards to focus on the sensations he’s giving me.
I can feel my underwear becoming soaked.
I need him on me, in me.
I want him all over me.
Sitting forward, I unclasp my bra, giving James full access. His eyes flare with lust, his hands gripping me firmer now, making me gasp. I breathe deep, trying to
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regain control as I start to unbutton his shirt, my fingers fumbling. A peek of a tattoo on his chest becomes visible.
"Iz. Stop. Red," he gasps. I freeze. Oh God, did I take it too far?
"James, are you okay? What’s wrong?" My voice is strangled with concern.
"No, I wanted to check in with you. Are you okay? Do you want to do this? Are you sure?"
Relief floods me, grateful he took a moment before we got carried away.
"Honestly, this wasn’t my plan. I was thinking about making out, some basic obedience, stuff like that… But James…" I breathe heavily. "Right now, I need you inside me. Please."
My inner horny college girl screams with excitement. She never thought, in a million years, she’d ever actually get to do this with James, let alone see him without a shirt on. And he’s more than she ever imagined. That awkward girl is long gone. I’m a woman now, and I know exactly what I want.
His eyes linger on mine for a beat before his mouth crashes against mine again. His hands move down to grab my ass, squeezing. His lips pull away, trailing kisses down my neck.
Yes, Miss
"Birth control implant," I pant. "And I’m assuming your test results are up to date?"
He nods, grunting “Yes.” I jump up off the sofa and take a breath.
"James, stand up." He obeys immediately. I step up to him and slowly unbutton his shirt, steadying my breathing as I slip it off. His tattoos become clear now; a tapestry of trees, mountains, and a river running down the valley between his abs. Soft dark hair sprinkles over his chest. I knew under his shirt he was well-built, but oh my God, he’s so fine.
He’s solid, not sharply defined muscle, but strength
and tone are evident under his soft but firm torso. So hot. His shoulders are thick with muscle, and he’s all man. Built like a rugby player, not some gym-bunny Insta model. He screams mature masculinity with his thick frame, and I’m here for every delicious inch of it.
My fingers trail over his chest, the soft hair tickling my fingertips, goosebumps rising under my touch. As I drift down between his abs, his breath hitches, and I look up into his face. His jaw is clenched, eyes closed, as if he’s fighting every urge to touch me.
"You’re doing so well, James," I murmur. "You’re perfect."
Alexandra Ravensbrook