Chapter Twelve
Tilly thought she might faint. With her chest plastered against the desk and her hands clutched behind her back, she couldn’t draw in a deep breath.
She was bent over Boone Benoit’s desk with her panties down, and if she was very, very lucky, he was about to give her lesson number one in submission.
She’d been surprised he hadn’t fired her on the spot for sneaking into this office, but thought, maybe, he’d been looking for just the right reason to begin her training. Or at least, she hoped that was what he was about to do.
Because if she was right, it meant he might just keep her around a while longer. He couldn’t be very angry with her snooping if his first impulse was to get her naked. Or at least the important parts bared.
She tried not to think about what he must be seeing. And hoped like hell there weren’t any cameras aimed right at her backside. While she’d been looking around, she’d forgotten about that possibility—that he or one of his men might be monitoring her activity. What must they be thinking?
But humiliation was the furthest thing from her mind right this minute. She’d suffer for it later, trying to figure out who might have seen, and ducking her head every time she passed one of Boone’s men.
No, she shoved that thought to the back of her mind, because right now, Boone was touching her bare ass, a finger sliding between her cheeks.
When the callused pad touched her tiny forbidden hole, she jerked up, her ass cheeks tightening. “You aren’t spankin’ that,” she muttered.
His chuckle was low and dirty. “A few ground rules, Tilly. You aren’t to speak unless I ask you something or give you leave. Do you understand?”
She almost blurted a sassy response, but instead bit her lip and nodded.
“And when we’re like this, me giving you intimate attention—whether we’re clothed or not, alone or not—you will call me sir.”
Already wet and tense, she swallowed, thinking about the clothed part and about being seen by others when he was instructing her. Lord, why had her thrill-meter just jerked to the red? Was she really that depraved? Excitement caused her heart to thud hard against her chest, but curiosity kept her still.
His broad palms landed on both cheeks, gripping her fleshy globes and massaging them, moving them in circular motions that parted and closed her bottom. Was he looking there? Could he see how wet her p-ssy was?
Tilly waited, expecting the first slap to land, and bracing for it, but his hands dropped away. Then his feet padded on the wood floor, circling the desk, coming around the front. She lifted her head, but in this position could only raise high enough to glimpse his hard belly.
His hand gripped one shoulder and raised her, just enough so that he could reach beneath her and open the buttons of her blouse, spreading apart the material. Then he unlatched her bra, palming a breast and pinching the tip until it hardened, then doing the same to the other breast before lowering her chest to meet the cool wood.
She gasped and readjusted her stance, widening it and trying to control the shaking of her legs.
Her whole body quivered now. Blood pooled in her sex, causing it to throb in time to her galloping heart. Liquid trickled down the inside of one thigh. When he padded back around the desk to stand behind her, she shut her eyes, hoping he’d touch her, and that she wouldn’t make a fool of herself, because she was hot and scared and so aroused she thought she might climb out of her skin.
* * *
Again, Boone glanced to the monitor and narrowed his eyes, hoping Serge would avert his gaze and allow him some privacy. He’d changed his mind about wanting him to watch. Knowing his friend like he did, Serge was likely chortling at the current situation.
Tilly needed this attention. He needed to administer it. The fact they were both intensely aroused proved a delicious complication. He’d love nothing better than to lower his pants and take her right there, but he wouldn’t do that, not with an audience. And she’d find out sooner or later that every room was rigged for surveillance. He didn’t think she was ready for that kind of exposure.
So he cupped his fingers, mounding them together so that his first clap would be thuddy as opposed to sharp, and raised his hand.
Her breathing had shortened to ragged pants. Her sex gleamed with moisture. Her bottom shivered. He swung his arm and clapped her bottom, not as hard as he wanted, but certainly enough to get her attention.
Her breath left in a whoosh, and he heard a soft whimper. He hadn’t hurt her, but her tension made her hypersensitive to his touch.
He clapped the other side of her bottom and watched as she flung back her head, the motion curving her slender back and raising her butt another inch.
His breath hitched as he enjoyed the sight of her tightening posture. Again, he thought how perfect, how suited she was for training. And how lovely her body was. He stood to the side of her and delivered more claps, to different spots, watching her skin turn pink and her p-ssy release another gush of fluid while his own body warmed.
Pausing, he smoothed his hand over her hot skin. “Tilly, can you take more?”
She panted, swallowed hard, and then glanced slightly to the side. “Sir, I entered your office and sat in your chair.” Her words were spoken in a throaty whisper. “If you hadn’t come when you did, I might have looked inside your drawers.”
He knew his amusement was stamped on his face, and hoped Serge wasn’t enjoying the moment too much. “A simple yes or no, girl.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, then held her breath.
He flattened his fingers, raised his hand again, and gave her a sharp slap that caused her ass to quiver.
Her gust of surprise sent heat straight to his cock, a sensation he didn’t bother fighting to control. He raised his hand again and swatted the other cheek, the backs of her thighs, the tops of her hips.
Her whimpers stretched to moans. Her thighs shook. His next slap landed the tips of his fingers on her swelling p-ssy, and she gave a garbled scream.
Boone trailed a finger down one flushed lip, following it downward then dipping into the top of her folds to skim her *. The nub was hardening, and the next swirl had her rising on her tiptoes to lift herself higher, inviting his attention there.
“I have cameras in this room, Tilly,” he said, dropping his voice while he continued to swirl on her *. “I watched you sneak in here. Watched you sit in my chair and close your eyes while you sniffed the leather. I wanted to bend you over my knee right that very minute.”
Her entire body shuddered, but she held still.
Liking the fact she hadn’t spoken, that she was keeping to his rules, he pressed a fingertip on her *.
Her back bowed, lifting her chest from the desk. When he removed his finger from her folds, she drooped again with a soft sob.
“Jonesy didn’t take you into the cabins. Do you know why?” he asked, smoothing a hand over her warmed rump again.
She cleared her throat. “I assumed they hadn’t been renovated yet, sir.”
“I told him to keep you away, because I didn’t want you shocked by what you might see. Each is uniquely equipped.” He traced the other swollen lip, his own breaths deepening, his arousal tightening his belly. “There’s one dedicated to spanking. I might take you there. I have floggers I’d love to use to stripe your ass. A padded bench I’d love to bend you over.”
A whoosh of air released through her mouth. She groaned and bent her forehead to touch the wood.
Smiling softly, he tapped her *. “I have one light flogger in my desk. I’m going to test it on your pretty ass.”
After she jerked, he pressed on one buttock, holding her down, and bent to slide open a drawer. A deerskin flogger lay inside. He gripped the handle and laid the flanges on her shoulders, rubbing them across then trailing down her spine.
Because she wasn’t fighting him, he dropped his hand from her buttock. Stepping behind her, he trailed the suede strands up the backs of her thighs and over her flushed p-ssy.
Boone stepped farther back, giving himself room, hoping too that the distance and the fact he wasn’t touching her smooth creamy backside, would give him back a little control. His cock was thick and heavy, poking at his pant leg. More than anything, he wanted to free it, wanted to sink inside her slick, hot cunt. Instead, he raised his arm to the side and swung across her buttocks, striking the right side.
She didn’t jolt, didn’t cry out. The deerskin was the softest flogger he had, and a perfect place to begin building her tolerance and hunger for more. As he stroked her bottom in steady, side-to-side motions, he welcomed the constant motion and the calming affect it had on his sharp edges. Tilly’s passivity, the evidence of her growing arousal, were everything he’d hoped for.
* * *
Each stroke of the lashed implement he wielded warmed and soothed Tilly’s fiery bottom and mind. Awash in sweet sensation, her pleasure built to a slow crescendo. She lay acquiescent, her mind drifting to last night’s pleasures.
Boone filled her thoughts. His large, hard frame, his thick molten cock churning relentlessly inside her. She couldn’t help the groan that leaked between her lips, or the shudder that racked her torso.
Again and again, he stuck her bottom, her thighs; occasionally he gave gentler strokes that padded against her p-ssy. She was wet and swollen, her body readying to be taken. If only he would.
When suddenly the strokes stopped, she held her breath, hoping he wasn’t finished with her, because she needed release. Her body ached for it.
She heard his body settling into the soft leather chair, the whir of the wheels as he rolled closer to her spread legs. Hands cupped her buttocks, thick digits slid into her soaked slit, fingering the edges of her inner labia. Then one pushed inside her entrance.
She gasped. “The cameras,” she whispered, then bit her lip because he’d said she couldn’t speak. “Sir,” she added, but she knew she’d made a mistake and hoped he’d overlook it because she couldn’t bear for him to stop touching her.
“Serge is no doubt watching us now, but he can only see your side. He can’t see what I see,” he said, stroking over her slit. “Are you sore, Tilly? I was rough with you last night.”
She wanted to lie, because she didn’t want him to stop doing more. “A little, sir,” she said softly.
Fingers parted her folds. Breath gusted against her wet open flesh. His pointed tongue entered her.
Good Lord, she’d never had a man do that before, and the action was excruciating in its intimacy. What was he feeling? Did he like the way she tasted? Tempted to close her legs out of embarrassment, she suffered through several moments while her thighs quaked.
He withdrew and then pushed inside again.
This time her p-ssy clenched, trying to capture his tongue. She wanted to tell him to use his fingers, to f*ck her with his cock, to hell with what Serge might see, but held still. She sensed he was testing her, seeing whether she could control her emotions and her responses. Wishing she knew for sure what he wanted, she kept silent.
“I’m going to make you come. Will that please you?”
“Yes, sir,” she said, her voice tightening with rising excitement, hoping he’d f*ck her, ready to beg, but she bit back the extra encouragement.
A drawer slid open and closed. Then something cold pushed inside her. Something considerably smaller than his thick fingers. Something that felt heavy. Something metallic? A hum sounded and then vibrated inside her. She sucked in a deep breath and held it.
His fingers pinched her *. “Listen to me, Tilly. Can you do that? Can you concentrate for a second?”
She nodded vigorously. “Y-yes, sir,” she said, her throat closing, the tension in her body expanding, curling in her womb.
He pinched her again, hard. And her bottom jerked.
“You can’t come until I say so. That’s a rule as well. Try very hard to please me.”
“Yes, sir,” she said, her voice rising. Her head felt light. She clamped her jaws shut, because she didn’t know if she could do this, not with the delicious vibrations hitting just the right spot inside her.
His breath blew against her moist folds. His tongue stroked through them, then back down. He tapped her * with his tongue, used a rough finger to draw back the hood. Just the air hitting the hot little bundle of nerves nearly made her come unglued. Her thighs quivered.
“This will be tough,” he murmured. “But do what you have to do. Make some noise. Bite that pretty mouth. Just don’t you come until I say so.”
She expelled a hard gust of air. Released from silence, she moaned. “Jesus, sweet God, Boone, please.” Tilly moaned again, then rubbed her chest on the desk, soothing her nipples with the smooth wood. Her thighs went rigid, her p-ssy convulsed. She was getting close, so close.
Then his mouth latched around her *, drawing on it, his tongue lashing the top of the knot with his tongue inside his mouth.
The sensation was exquisite agony. The small metal egg inside her began to pulse, felt as though it was rolling inside her, striking the spot again and again. His mouth pulled on her *, forcing it erect. The suctioning so strong, he pulled it into his mouth, his lips sliding around the small base.
She screamed. At the edge of torment, Tilly couldn’t ignore the sensual pressure building in her core. She had to come. It had to be now.
He released her * and she sank, gasping for air.
“When I squeeze your knee, you can come, baby. Wait for it.”
And then he was sucking her * again, pulling it hard, his teeth nicking it, causing her to jerk. The little rounded knot was thick, hard, so sensitive that each draw sent electrical pulses straight to her womb. Her channel rippled, her cunt pulsed in time with her heartbeat.
She couldn’t stand it, couldn’t resist. Sliding her hands beneath her, she cupped her breasts, needing the comfort and then pinching her nipples to try to hold back.
A hand slid around her knee and squeezed.
Tilly arched off the desk and shouted as her orgasm exploded outward from her *, rippling through her vagina, shivering over her buttocks and thighs. Shock held her erect for a long dizzying moment, and then she collapsed, her heated body pressed against the cool wood desk.
The vibrations slowed, lulling her. His lips relaxed, his tongue stroking her bared knot in wet, soothing laps, until, at last, she lay limply, her hands still hugging her breasts.
She closed her eyes and let out one last reedy moan.
Kisses landed on her p-ssy and covered her inner thighs, her bottom. Hands gripped her waist and pulled her up. Boone turned her, sliding her over his lap, her capris and undies dangling from one lolling foot.
With a strong arm, he held her against his chest and stroked her belly, between her legs, providing a brand of intimate comfort she’d never experienced from a man. Then fingers entered her and tugged on the small egg. He placed it on his desk, and she pushed her face into the corner of his neck, because the whitish fluid that coated it embarrassed her. After everything that he’d done, that she’d accepted, she knew the reaction was silly, but she hid.
“No showering.” Boone pressed a kiss against her ear. “No changing your clothes. Not until tonight. I want your panties wet and sticky.”
She groaned. “I’ll smell.”
“No one but you will notice. But I’ll know you’re uncomfortable. When you see me, you’ll blush. When you’re thinking about that lovely orgasm, I want you to lower your gaze.”
“Will your men know? Is this something you always do?”
“No, it’s a new rule. Just for you.” The corner of his eyes crinkled. “Lower your gaze. Wait for me to come to you. I’ll touch you. Not anything that will cause anyone else to know what we’ve been up to, but you and I will know.”
She’d said he used this kind of play to create a connection. Now she understood how right she’d been. Every time she lowered her eyes, she’d be thinking of her hot bottom and the pleasure he’d given her with his mouth.
With a slow move, she bent back her head to look at his lips.
“Do you want a kiss?”
Her gaze flitted up to his eyes.
His blue gaze was glinting.
“Yes, sir.” She wrinkled her nose. “You ask me questions just because you like hearing me say that, don’t you?”
A smile curved his mouth, and blue eyes reflected a smoky heat. “I do. You please me, Tilly Floret.”
“But you didn’t take your own pleasure.”
He sighed and tightened his embrace, pressing her down on his erection. “That’s my penance for my lack of control.”
Drawing her eyebrows together, she frowned.
She thought he’d shown a great deal of control, taking care with her body to the exclusion of his own orgasm. But before she could ask what he meant, he tapped her nose.
“I’m sending someone around to your brother’s group house to do an assessment. We’ll want to know how best to integrate him here.”
Tilly sighed. If the moment wasn’t already perfect enough…“I’m sorry if this is getting complicated—my problems shouldn’t become yours.”
Boone shook his head. “I wouldn’t be taking them on if I didn’t want to. I’m not a selfless man, Tilly. Don’t go thinking there’s more to me than what you know.”
His warning didn’t convince her. Boone had a softer center than he let the world see. His care with her proved it. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his shoulder. “I don’t know how this will work is all. I want you. But I don’t know how Denny will fit. How I’ll manage to keep him out of trouble.”
“Leave it to me, Tilly. I’m not without resources. When there’s something I want as much as I want you, I’ll move mountains.”
She grunted, fingers toying with the buttons on his shirt. “There are no mountains in the bayou, Boone,” she muttered.
His chuckle shook her, and she smiled, happy to let him ease her worries, if only for a while.