Nora traced a few of the red welts with her fingertips. Lance closed his eyes and inhaled.
“Next time I’ll leave some marks on the front of your body,” Nora said into his ear. “On your hips...your stomach...front of your thighs...I’ll make sure you can see them. Would you like that?”
“Yes, Mistress,” he whispered.
“Do you get aroused when you look at the welts and bruises the day after a scene?”
“Yes.”
“Do you masturbate the day after when you look at them?”
“Every day until they heal completely.”
“Wish I could watch that.”
“I’d love for you to watch me.”
Nora could feel the muscles in his back tensing under her touch.
“Do it for me now.”
“Nora, you know I can’t.”
“Oh, I think we both know you can. And I think we both know you want to. Kingsley said no sex. He said nothing about masturbation.”
“We’re splitting hairs a little.”
“I have turned finding loopholes in rules into a high art. If it were an Olympic sport I’d medal in it. And don’t pretend you don’t want to. You know you want to come for me while I watch. I know you want to show me how much our night together turned you on.”
“God, yes...”
“I’m not ordering you to do it because that would be kinky. King said no sex, no kink. We’re not going to have sex. We’re not going to do kink. We’re just going to hang out on the couch. And if the spirit moves you...then it moves you.”
The spirit moved him.
Nora turned sideways and leaned back against the sofa arm. She got nice and comfy as Lance faced her on the couch, a look of desire shining in his dark blue eyes.
He scooted down so that he was half laying on the couch, half sitting, the sofa arm as his pillow. On the extra-long sofa, their feet barely touched.
Lance unbuttoned his jeans and slowly pulled down the zipper.
“You men are such fucking teases,” Nora said, shaking her head. Lance was as bad as S?ren.
“Give me some time. I might be shy.”
“The man who was naked on the floor of my dungeon with his wrists cuffed behind his back and his face buried in my * is shy?”
“I said I might be shy. I didn’t say I was shy.”
“Tease,” she repeated.
“Guilty.”
He pulled his erection from his pants and slowly started to stroke himself.
“I’m so going to get fired for this,” Lance sighed.
“Don’t worry about it. If Kingsley asked if we had sex the answer is an honest ‘no.’ If asked if we did kink, the answer is...”
“No.”
“Good boy. I mean...right answer.”
“Thank you. I did go to MIT. I should be able to answer simple yes and no questions even with a painful erection.”
“It might be painful but it’s sexy as hell. You have a gorgeous cock,” Nora said with an approving nod.
“Thank you, I think.”
“You’re welcome. I’m a cock connoisseur.”
Lance’s head fell back as he made another pass down and up again.
“What makes a cock gorgeous?”
“Hmm...” Nora tapped her chin. “Good size. Too big looks comical. Too small is, well, a bit disappointing. Although what women consider small and what men consider small are very different. We’re much more into girth than length, and you have very impressive girth.”
“Is that so?”
“Definitely. A pencil might be nine inches long, but you don’t want a pencil poking your cervix.”
“Good point.”
Nora bit back a laugh. “I can’t believe you made a pun while jacking off on my couch. Remind me to kill Kingsley the next time I see him. I want to fuck you so much right now it hurts.”
“That much?”
“I really like puns.”
Lance stroked again and Nora couldn’t stop staring at his hardening inches, at his roaming hand, at the veins in his strong arms, the flat plane of his stomach.
“I really like you,” Lance said, smiling through half-closed eyes.
“I like you, too,” she said, watching as his fingers teased the head. What she wouldn’t give to roll forward and lick that little drop of semen off the tip just to make him moan. “More than I want to.”
“You don’t want to like me?”
“Not as much as I do, no. I’m not one of those angst-ridden women who constantly worries about whether or not I’m doing the right thing, making the right choices, or God forbid, pissing someone off. I piss off more people before ten a.m. than most people do all day.”
“Good for you. That takes effort.”
“I’m a natural. But to be like me, to do the job I do, live the life I live...I need it to be complication-free. You, Lance, are a complication.”
“I’m a complication?”
“You could be. I’m a Dominatrix. So I’m not a prostitute, but let’s not quibble. I work in the sex trade. My clients don’t get to fuck me, but the kink is their version of sex. They take their clothes off, I whip their testicles, they come all over my nice rug which I have to get cleaned five times a week.”
“You might have to get your couch cleaned after I’m done,” he said with a wink.
“It’s my couch. Trust me, it’s Scotch-guarded. Keep rubbing.”