Rough Ride (Let it Ride Book 1) Page 11

  I seized her around the waist and placed her on the coverlet face up, with her head facing the footboard. Then I gathered her wrists and fastened them to the wrought iron with handcuffs I’d stuffed in my pocket earlier.

  Kate tugged at the shackles, and I loved the clang of the metal. And she knew it too, Kate was doing it deliberately.

  I ran fingertips all over my territory. I pinched her nipples until they stood firm and flushed for me, like two ripe berries. I lightly trailed over her flat stomach until I reached her warm, wet cunt.

  When I thrust a finger into her, she arched.

  Oh, yes, wet.

  Her pussy was pinkish red and swollen for me, just waiting for my dick. She has the sweetest snatch—tight and juicy—I love the way it wraps around me.

  Every inch of her was mine—fucking mine. I don’t care who came after me, he’d never own her the way I did. I wanted her to compare all the other men to me— and find them lacking. I needed Kate to think of me every time she grew aroused—and no other man could scratch the itch I’d created.

  I wanted to make her as helpless as she made me. Maybe if I controlled her, I’d gain some over myself.

  “Know what I’m going to do with you now?” I asked.

  She shook her head.

  “Anything I want.” I rolled her over onto her side and smacked Kate’s juicy bottom, holding onto the leash, all the while.

  She squealed but didn’t spit the gag out.

  Then I unlocked the cuffs, pulled her arms behind her back, and fastened them again. Afterwards, I pushed her up onto her knees and pressed her shoulders into the bed.

  Time to give her a good, hard fucking.

  “Keep your head down.”

  I unfastened my pants and shoved them down over my hips, along with my boxers. Grasping the shaft, I stroked my cock.

  God, I was hurting for her. My cock was so fucking hard, it felt like stone. I couldn’t remember ever being so near to bursting.

  Her delicious ass was thrust in the air. I gave it a hard smack, and she groaned. Like most nights, she wore the butt plug I’d given her, and it glittered like a dark jewel that needed to be plundered. I grasped the edges and pulled it slowly out.

  Kate mewled against the gag.

  “It’s time—I’m going to put myself in your ass. Any objections?”

  She shook her head.

  After squirting lube into her hole, I slipped a condom over the head of my dick, then tossed the plug on the floor. She’d been wearing it for weeks, so this shouldn’t hurt a bit.

  Gradually, I edged my dick inside. Kate squealed but took all of me in. Goddamn, she was like a glove—utterly perfect. More than anything, I wanted to slam into her, but I was larger than the plug. If I went to town on her, it’d hurt.

  “No man’s had your ass before, have they?”

  Kate shook her head.

  “Good, then I’m the first.”

  And sweet Jesus, I wanted to be the last.

  I gave a few slow thrusts, and Kate pushed her hips back—apparently, she loved it. One day soon, I’d fuck her tight little hole the way I rammed into her pussy.

  I couldn’t stand the tease anymore, so I pulled out, ditched the condom, and I got behind her again.

  Since we’d crossed the barrier once, I wanted her bareback again. I grasped her by the wrists and pulled her pussy onto my dick, hard.

  Kate squealed.

  Then I fucking let her have it, surging into her at a furious pace. My balls slapped against the back of her thighs.

  Kate moaned against the gag, hips working with me. I almost wished I’d taken it off.

  “You don’t have permission to come.” I rode her even harder.

  Kate didn’t respond. Instead, she relaxed in my hold, letting me control her body.

  “Hear me?”

  She muttered something. I thought it was an acknowledgment.

  I grasped her hips then plowed into her—all the way in.

  Kate panted.

  And then I was coming in her, exploding—Fourth of July fireworks kind of incredible.

  I recognized the whine in Kate’s little cries—she hadn’t yet come. I love the needy, dreamy look she gets whenever she’s on edge. So I flipped her over onto her back, spread her legs wide, then stuffed a couple pillows beneath her hips, lifting her.

  And I feasted on the sight of her.

  Her eyes were half-mast, and she looked nearly mindless. I took it all in—the collar and the leash, my thick semen trickling from her cunt.

  I unsnapped the gag and tossed it away. Her mouth was slippery, slick with saliva—just as wet as her pussy.

  I slid two fingers into her easily, then pressed the heel of my hand against her, rubbing against her clit. Slow at first, then more firmly.

  She writhed, lifting up for more contact, and I indulged her.

  Soon she was on edge again, ready to go.

  “Beg me.”

  Kate opened her eyes, and for a moment, they were wild. It’s intoxicating to have her under my command, mine to fuck, mine to punish.

  Mine. You’re fucking mine. Understand?

  I want to say the words, but can’t. It might scare her off. Hell, I might be out of my head right now.

  “Sir, please, can I—”

  “Call me master.”

  Kate doesn’t speak for a second.

  I think about backpedaling, but I can’t—it’s already out there. So I simply wait for her reply.

  Her head dips in acknowledgment.

  And—wham—another barrier was crossed.

  “Master, can I come, please?”

  And because I’m a fucking gentleman, I fulfill her request.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Kate

  Much later in the evening, we drifted onto Malcolm’s balcony.

  Dabs of snow melted on the railing, and the cold air felt good on my heated skin. It was one of those crisp winter nights, a mid-winter thaw. The temperature was in the fifties, and he’d lit a fire in the corner chiminea, creating a cozy glow.

  I stood there staring down at the city—the hum of traffic, the bright lights. Once more, I was overwhelmed. My uncertain future had a habit of sneaking up and blindsiding me when I least expected it. I think that’s one reason why I loved playing with Malcolm so much—besides the orgasms. It was the distraction—whenever I was in his arms, I wasn’t worried about my life.

  And tonight had been especially intense. We hadn’t talked about his demand that I call him master, yet somehow, in the moment, it’d felt right. But did he mean it?

  For now, I let it go.

  “You’re awfully quiet.”

  Malcolm stood next to me—larger, stronger, a raw force of nature. He always knew what he wanted and how he was going to get it. I envied his calm determination, his sense of purpose.

  Lately, I’d felt trapped by own inaction.

  “Thinking.”

  “About what?” He angled his body toward me.

  “What comes next.”

  “Which is…?”

  “I don’t have a clue.” I laughed. “I should be laying plans for my future, but I don’t know what I’m doing. Everyone else is moving forward, and I feel stuck.”

  “I know what you mean.”

  “You do?” His jealous snit aside, I couldn’t picture him being unsure about anything.

  Malcolm wrapped an arm around me. “Once, a long time ago, I was your age and a total mess. It’s simply the stage of life you’re in.”

  “You aren’t that old.”

  He snorted. “I’m twice your age. I could be your fath—”

  My stomach turned. “Don’t even say it.”

  “I know how you feel. You’re always looking for the next step—pushing yourself harder, further, faster. And now you’ve hit a wall. You’re trying to decide what to do next, and you’re fresh out of road maps.”

  “I’ve been knocking down goal after goal, moving from one to another my whole life,
but now it’s wide open.”

  “If it makes you feel any better, I’ve been thinking about my direction too. Not about the career so much, but my personal life. It’s got something to do with turning forty, but I’ve been wondering where all this is going. Am I living to work or working to live?”

  “Glad to know I’m not the only one having an existential crisis.”

  Malcolm chuckled as he leaned over the railing and stretched his back. I admired the graceful way he moved, the pride he obviously took in his body.

  “What got you so interested in healthy living?”

  He cracked his neck then pulled his arms against his chest, stretching the muscles.

  “My father died when he was only a decade older than I am now. Something about it shook me up. We looked a lot alike—same build, identical hair and eye color. I thought maybe it was a window into my future and I should change while I had the chance.”

  “I’m sorry.” It must’ve been awful to lose his father when he’d been so young, especially when they’d obviously had a good relationship.

  “Thanks.” Malcolm squeezed my hand. “I got my health under control, but I haven’t lived as much as he did. By the time my dad died, he’d been married for almost thirty years. He had two sons and one grandson, my nephew.”

  “You have a successful business.”

  “And that’s about it.” He scratched his jaw. “I want more out of life than my work. Don’t get me wrong, my job is fulfilling and I love what I do. And I meet my artistic needs with gigs on the side.”

  “You want a family?”

  “I’ve been wondering what it might be like to be a husband, maybe even a father. I keep thinking I’ve missed my chance. Besides, I don’t think a family fits into my lifestyle.”

  This conversation brought me to a topic I’d been wondering about since the beginning, and I couldn’t resist the opportunity.

  “So why are you…uh…?” I was searching for the right term.

  “Kinky?”

  “That’ll do.”

  He frowned. “There’s nothing wrong with me if that’s what you’re asking—no childhood traumas. I wasn’t abused, and all my relationships have been healthy.”

  I winced. “Touchy subject?”

  Malcolm lifted a shoulder. “Yeah, sorry. Whenever I’ve introduced something spicier into a vanilla relationship, I’ve had the same talk—you know, where she tried to figure out what the fuck is wrong with me.”

  The things I did with Malcolm weren’t the “norm,” but it didn’t mean we were doing anything wrong.

  “If it helps, I don’t consider this deviant. I think it's fun.”

  As far as I was concerned, everyone has their fetish. My dad had a thing for models and kept trading them in for newer, prettier models. Poppy’s mom loved younger men. Malcolm liked a bit of kink. So what?

  “So, we’re agreed.” He grinned.

  I couldn’t help but return it.

  “So I’m assuming you’ve done this sort of thing before?” There had to have been other submissive women in his life. Since he was being so open and talkative tonight, I wanted to know more.

  His face shuttered, and I regretted my question.

  “Yes, I had a submissive, a long time ago, when I was about your age. Hope was also an art student, and we had a fling our senior year which changed into something more—for me at least.”

  “Where’d you meet her?”

  “I went to Columbia, like you, and she attended Barnard.”

  Barnard College is a private liberal arts college right across the street from Columbia. The two colleges are affiliated, and students often attended classes at both schools.

  “Tell me about her. What was she like?”

  Malcolm gripped the railing, his knuckles turning white. “Hope was the one who pushed me to take the prostitute photos. She had an eye for provocative art.”

  “What happened with you two? Because I can tell it didn’t end well.”

  “There was no drama. We parted as friends after we graduated. I tried to talk her into staying, told Hope I was falling in love with her, but she didn’t share my feelings.”

  Malcolm said it all so straightforwardly like it no longer mattered, but I thought it did.

  “So Hope moved to the west coast for grad school, and I stayed here.” He exhaled, his breath coming out in puffs. “I was young and stupid. I thought there’d be a better relationship coming along any minute, but I missed my shot with her.”

  I pushed down a sudden flare of jealousy because it was ridiculous. We were playing around. I didn’t have a claim on Malcolm, and I didn’t want one.

  I was a free bird, a free agent. Some freedom crap like that.

  “Stop acting like your life’s over or something. Since you aren’t ready for the nursing home quite yet, you could look her up.”

  “I found her on Facebook a couple of years ago, but she’s very happily married with three kids.”

  “Bummer.” Yet, I didn’t feel a bit bad. “So you didn’t feel something for Angela?”

  “I liked her, but it wasn’t a big romance. We had the perfect paparazzi relationship—showing up at premieres together. As a matter of fact, I haven’t had a real honest and open relationship since Hope. I’ve had to hide my sexual appetites from every woman I’ve dated. How fucking sad is that?”

  I felt bad for Malcolm, all of a sudden. I got the sense he was lonely. As someone who’d grown up a lonely, unwanted kid—I understood.

  “When the opportunity for happiness comes along, take your shot. Don’t let fear keep you from claiming what you want. I embarrassed myself in front of Hope, but I have zero regrets. I did everything in my power to keep her here.”

  I decided to move the conversation along. “Do you ever miss the art?”

  “I miss the purity of it. It wasn’t made with an end product in mind. The work was pristine, something I did for love of the craft. But I didn’t want to be a starving artist. I took some freelance work shooting black and white ads, got noticed, and the rest is on my resume.”

  He made it all sound so easy, like one day a person just stumbled upon their destiny and everything snapped into place.

  “And what about you? What do you want to do?”

  All of a sudden, I was on the verge of tears.

  “I don’t know.”

  “Not having a plan can be scary.”

  I gulped. “Tell me about it.”

  At least I had family money to fall back on. Someone like Iris had to be ready with Plans A, B, and C, in case one of them fell through. I could drift through my days and nights partying and still pay the rent.

  Not that I would, but the option was nice.

  “One thing I’ve learned—life isn’t about the destination, it’s the ride. The next few years will determine where it goes. You don’t have a mortgage or a husband or children to weigh you down—embrace the independence.”

  I hadn’t thought of it like that. Maybe being unsure wasn’t such a horrible thing after all. I was looking at this all wrong, focusing on the fear, not the independence.

  People always say the ocean gives them perspective, staring out into the vastness of it, makes them feel part of the world.

  The city did that for me.

  It was so large, stuffed full of people from all over the world. Each of them had their own problems, their own lives. All of a sudden, my issues didn’t seem so huge—it was normal, and everyone went through it.

  “Thanks for the advice.”

  Malcolm sighed. “I know this doesn’t make any sense. We’re at two different stages in life. But I’ve never met anyone quite like you before.”

  “Oh, yeah? What about Hope?”

  “Hope was wonderful, but she isn’t you.”

  “And you mean it in a good way, right?” I looked up at Malcolm, and he watched me with the strangest expression. This wasn’t his demanding dominant side rearing to life again—this was gentle, almost loving.

/>   “Yes. We get each other. You feel it, don’t you? We fit together somehow.”

  I nodded. It was unbelievable, but we meshed—our personalities fit together.

  “There’s something special here. Trust me, it doesn’t come often. While you’re weighing your options, I want you to keep something in mind—but it’s only an idea. Despite my alpha ‘call me master’ outburst earlier.”

  Malcolm wasn’t looking at me. Instead, he faced forward.

  I had the feeling he was about to say something important, something he was having difficulty voicing.

  “This thing between us spiraled out of control in all the right ways. It wasn’t in the plans for either of us. But just because we didn’t anticipate it doesn’t make it a bad thing.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “You could work at York & Associates.”

  Malcolm wanted me to stay. Someone actually wanted me around.

  “I liked the ideas you had for the kefir campaign, and I think you’ve got real talent, although it’s still raw.”

  “Are you offering me a job or a relationship?”

  He smirked. “Both, actually. You’ve got the opportunity to interview for a job. I always give the designers input when we hire someone, but I think you’re a shoe-in for the position if you prepare for it. You’ll have to start at the bottom and work your way up, of course.”

  “Well, when it comes to you, I know I’m a bottom.” I gave him my best sultry look. I was trying to make light of this, maybe because it sounded so damn good to me.

  His eyes flared.

  Malcolm leered. “Oh, I like it when you’re on the bottom.”

  “Is this because I’m sleeping with you?”

  “I wouldn’t offer you a job, if I didn’t think you’d be great at it. But if working for me makes you uncomfortable, I can make some calls, I have contacts at other firms. All I’m saying is, you could stay here for a bit, get your bearings— I’ll give you a safe space—if you want it.”

  I didn’t know what to say.

  “Malcolm, I….”

  “Ask yourself this—are you happy now?”

  “Yes.” I’d never been so content, actually.

  “Me too. And I have a feeling this could lead to something bigger. If you want my advice, don’t overanalyze it or try to plan it. Like I said earlier, let’s enjoy the ride. Speaking of which, we should take advantage of this situation.”