Power Play: A Black & White Collection Story Page 6

  He reached toward his crotch. “I’ve got something here you can lap…with that tongue of yours.”

  “Crude, Reed. Even for you.”

  He stood with a chuckle. “Yeah, I think it was at that. Come on, Carlyle. I’ll take you to Carter’s bar and buy you a drink. The calm before the storm.”

  She rose as well. “Ah. A drink would definitely hit the spot right about now.”

  He took her hand and led her toward the door. The gesture was nothing more than friendly, and yet she couldn’t still the slight tremble in her stomach his touch provoked. She was starting to feel like a silly schoolgirl around him. She kicked the feeling out with a vengeance, releasing his hand to push the button on the elevator. Mentally, she tried to batten down her hatches, find a way to close her heart to the man before he managed to weaken every defense she possessed.

  Frankie walked back the from the conference room, brimming with happiness. She’d won. Simply Lovely picked her ad campaign. She’d fought to restrain her victorious smile for nearly thirty minutes as the CEO of the company praised her ideas. Reed had put up a good front, but she could see in his eyes a wariness, a slight tinge of worry.

  He was hers to play with and she had every intention of bending the man to her whims. He’d played her like a violin on his desk, pulling words and feelings from her that she still wasn’t able to think about. He’d thrown her world for a loop. Now, she was about to shake his rafters, watch his foundation crumble a bit.

  They approached the door to their offices. She waited until his hand was just at the knob, let him believe he’d escaped for the moment.

  “Oh, Reed,” she said, smirking when he paused and sighed heavily. “I’m going to need to see you in my office in ten minutes.”

  He narrowed his eyes and she wondered if he’d refuse to honor the bet. Balk at it.

  He nodded. “Fine.” His tone was nothing short of a bark and she couldn’t suppress the giggle that escaped. He studied her face for a moment. “You aren’t going to play nice, are you?”

  A full-fledged smile covered her face as he repeated the words she’d said to him. “Oh, Reed. I’m going to play just as nicely as you did.”

  She watched him swallow heavily. “I was afraid of that.”

  He turned and walked into his office, closing the door with more force than necessary. If their secretary wondered about the odd conversation, she was professional enough to maintain a poker face. Frankie glanced at her watch. Eleven thirty.

  “Jessica,” she said. “We just landed a big client this morning and I think we should all reap the rewards. Why don’t you head out to lunch now? Take a couple hours and enjoy yourself.”

  Jessica’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

  Frankie nodded. “The afternoon schedule is light. I’m going to take a long lunch myself.”

  “Well, there is this new dress shop on the corner I’ve been dying to go to.”

  Frankie smiled. The new shop was Simply Lovely. She’d gone there herself a few times over the past two weeks in order to prepare her campaign. “It’s a fantastic shop. I think you’ll love it. Enjoy yourself and like I said, don’t rush back.”

  Jessica thanked her once more, grabbing her purse and leaving the office.

  Two can play that game, she thought as she waved goodbye to the secretary as the elevator doors closed. Reed had sent their secretary away during their last interlude, but he’d let her believe the woman was sitting just outside the door listening to her screams, her pleading. Turnabout was fair play.

  She walked into her office and noticed the connecting door between her office and Reed’s was closed. He was probably over there debating if he’d be seriously injured if he tried to escape via his window. She glanced at the street. They were nine floors up—he was trapped. She laughed again.

  She’d followed through with the wager when she was on the losing end and he’d made her pay big time. Revenge could be so very, very sweet.

  She picked up the bag tucked beneath her desk and pulled out the chin up pole she’d purchased earlier in the week. Once the connecting door to their offices was open, she intended to put it up in the frame. It was supposed to be used for pull-ups, but the secure bar was going to serve a different purpose today.

  She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She’d been calmer when she’d been the loser. She was too excited, wanted this fantasy too much. Until Reed’s D/s game the other week, she’d always envisioned herself in the Domme role, never as the sub. While she��d loved everything Reed did to her, there was a large part of her that felt like a child on Christmas morning about to open the ultimate gift. Another glance at her watch proved she was wasting time.

  Reed was a man of his word. Regardless of his reticence or the fact he was pissed as shit about losing, he’d be here very soon, ready to pay up. And oh, how she’d make him pay.

  She rushed into the bathroom attached to her office, unbuttoning her blouse as she went. Quickly, she removed every piece of clothing. The vinyl catsuit slid onto her body like a second skin. It was one piece and zipped up the front. She made sure to leave the front open to reveal a couple inches of her cleavage. The clothing would give Reed an eyeful of her ample breasts, but not much more. By the time she was finished with him, he’d be begging for all of her.

  She heard a knock at the door. She cracked the door to the bathroom and watched Reed walk into her office like a man going to meet his executioner. He started to close the connecting door behind him.

  “I’ll be out in a moment.” She stood in such a way that he wouldn’t be able to see her. “Leave the door between our offices open and put the bar on my desk up. Once you’re finished, I want you to kneel in the doorway and wait for me.”

  “Frankie.” His tone proved he was pissed as shit at being ordered around.

  “Do it.” She shut the bathroom door firmly, not giving him a chance to say more. This was her fantasy and she’d won it fair and square.

  She pulled her hair loose from its ponytail, fluffing out her long dark tresses in a way that said fuck me. She rarely wore her hair unpinned and she couldn’t wait to see Reed’s eyes when he saw it down for the first time. She quickly applied some shiny lip gloss and pinched her cheeks.

  Life certainly hadn’t been dull since Reed Donovan had entered her world and while she knew exactly what she wanted to happen today, she also knew that she wanted him to enjoy their interlude as well. He’d managed to take his darkest fantasy and somehow make it hers too. She wanted him to like what she did to him, wanted him hot and bothered and turned on. Before she could hold back the thought, she realized she wanted him to want this as much as she did. And then she wanted him to want more.

  Chapter Five

  Reed tested the strength of the pull-up equipment Frankie had purchased and tried not to imagine what she had in mind for the pole. Shit. Damn woman was hell on his libido. He was trying to be pissed about losing the bid. In the past, whenever he’d lost a potential client, he’d gone into a funk for days, walking around like a bear with a thorn in his claw. Biting off the head of anyone who dared to step in his way.

  Today, he’d listened to the CEO of Simply Lovely list her reasons for choosing Frankie’s bid and all he could feel was pride. She’d done well—very well—and he knew she’d deserved to win. Now, rather than nursing his wounded pride, he was looking forward to the next hour with anticipation, eagerness…and leeriness. Her demand that he kneel and wait for her rubbed against the grain.

  He had no doubt she’d push his limits, his patience, and oddly enough, he couldn’t wait to watch her make the attempt. Checking the equipment one more time, he gritted his teeth and went to his knees. She took her sweet time getting ready. Obviously part of her master plan to make him pay for all he’d made her do and say during his fantasy.

  He grinned as he recalled how beautiful she’d looked bent over his desk, her ass reddened by his spanking. She’d taken to his commands like a fish takes to water, but he knew subm
issiveness was not in her nature. She’d assumed the role, played it to perfection, but inside—deep inside—he knew that wasn’t who she was.

  And, surprisingly, he didn’t give a shit. In the past, he’d grasped the reins of every relationship, wielding the whip, assuming it was his God-given right to run the show. The women he’d dated had let him hold that power. Frankie would never let him run roughshod over her. He’d learned from their previous sexual experiences and from their time spent working together that she knew her strengths, knew her value and she wouldn’t put those things away merely because he demanded to be in charge.

  It was that fact that made her one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known.

  The door to the bathroom opened and Frankie stepped into the room. There was no shyness, no timidity to her fluid grace. She was, in a word, magnificent.

  His cock filled as she walked toward him. His vision blurred, but he refused to blink as he took in her catsuit, her black strappy high heels. Jesus. She held a riding crop in her hand and for a moment, he wondered what the hell he’d signed on for. He was reminded of Carter’s comments about her. Dominant definitely described this look.

  Then he grinned. He could see his response took her aback for just a second. She recovered quickly. She always would. Frankie thought on her feet. Her quick wit would never leave her floundering for long.

  “You might want to wipe that cocky grin off your face, Donovan. I’m not sure you understand your place here.”

  He let the grin morph into a smirk and knew the image irked her. She hadn’t played the game by his rules, either. She’d been the mouthiest sub on the East Coast.

  She shook her head, clearly disappointed in his effort. “You aren’t going to make this easy, are you?”

  “Easy on me or easy on you?”

  She gave him a wicked smile. “I don’t need easy. In fact,” she rubbed the tip of her riding crop along the front placket of his pants, outlining his erection “I prefer it hard.”

  He bit back a groan at the pleasure her feather light touch on his cock provoked. Shit. Suddenly a new worry popped into his brain. There was no way he could withstand much of her torment without erupting far too early. She was hotter than shit in her Dominatrix outfit.

  “Stand up, Reed.”

  He slowly rose, attempting to adjust his pants as he did so. The zipper of his slacks was irritating his cock, and he tried to remember a time when he’d been harder.

  She walked away from him, toward her desk. “Take off your clothes. All of them.”

  For a split second, he thought perhaps this wouldn’t be too bad. Maybe she’d put him out of his misery quickly. That thought was washed away when he watched her open her desk drawer and pull out a pair of manacles. Her plan flashed before his eyes. The wrist cuffs were separated by a foot of chain. No doubt she intended to bind him to this damn chin-up bar, naked as the day he was born.

  The idea of giving her so much control made him uneasy. He’d never let a woman run the show, never let anyone have free rein over his body. He wasn’t sure he could do this. Helpless wasn’t a role he’d ever played and he didn’t intend to start now.

  “Frankie.”

  She turned to look at him and her face halted his next words. So much was written in her eyes—need, excitement, fear, challenge. She expected him to balk, expected him to refuse her.

  “Chickening out, Donovan?”

  He was reminded of his fantasy. She’d given him everything, held back nothing. Didn’t he owe her the same satisfaction? They’d started this as a way of one-upping each other. It was supposed to be a game. Somewhere along the line, the rules had changed. It no longer felt like they were taking so much as giving.

  His hands moved to his shirt, unfastening the buttons. She paused, watching him, waiting for him to say more. Slowly, methodically, he shed his shirt, shoes, socks and pants—all as she observed silently. When he was completely naked, he turned his hands, palms toward her as if to say, I’m yours. Take me.

  She smiled at his gesture, nodded once, and for a moment, he thought he saw the sheen of a tear in her eye. She carried the manacles over and stood in front of him.

  “Do you need me to spell out what I’m going to do?”

  He shook his head. “Just do it.” The words were ripped from his soul. With those three words, he was giving her his trust, something he’d never surrendered easily. And yet, with her, it seemed a very simple thing to offer.

  She hooked the cuff on his right wrist, raising his arm above his head. Efficiently, she lightly tossed the chain over the chin up bar, raised his other arm and hooked the second cuff. Her heels added at least three inches to her height, making it easier for her to bind him. The top of her head came to the tip of his nose and he was overcome with the urge to bend forward and capture her elusive lips.

  As if reading his thoughts, she took a step back. His arms were loosely chained above his head, his elbows slightly bent. He resisted the urge to test their strength, to test the bar. A small part of him wanted to use brute force to pull free from her bondage, but he was able to push it aside. Today was about her. Her fantasy. Her needs.

  She ran her hand along his chest, the sudden touch surprising him. He took a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart as she used her nail to tease his nipple. Bending forward, she nipped at the small distended bit of flesh with her teeth. He clenched his jaw as she increased the pressure of the bite. She continued until a hiss escaped his lips. She backed away then, studied his face and then soothed the pain with soft, wet kisses and gentle brushes of her tongue. Once she’d eased the hurt, she moved over and inflicted the same pleasurable pain to his other nipple. Over and over, she tormented him with sharp bites, sweet kisses.

  He was struggling to get air into his lungs and his cock was full to bursting. Jesus. She hadn’t even touched it yet.

  Finally, she pulled away. He watched her through slitted eyelids, trying to read her face, determine her next move. It was impossible. She was a master at this game, at control. It was like looking in a mirror.

  She walked back to her desk and picked up the riding crop. He clenched his teeth. This was definitely going to be a new experience. For him and for his secretary. He glanced uneasily at the door. What the hell would Jessica think when she heard the crack of a whip? Would she try to come in?

  “Jess is about to get an education. Wouldn’t you say so?”

  He cleared his throat, wondering when it had gotten so thick. “Maybe you should tell her to go to lunch.”

  She looked at him thoughtfully. “Maybe I should invite her in. I bet she’d love to put a few lashes against your back.”

  He shook his head. “The only hands I want on me right now are yours.”

  She seemed to digest that information, then—typical woman—she latched on to the wrong words. “Right now?”

  “Frankie.” He gestured at the crop in her hands with a nod of his head. “Get on with it.”

  She lifted the crop, dragging the tip down his chest and then across his shoulders. For several moments, she moved in what he thought were random patterns. When she drew a K, he realized she was spelling her name.

  “Marking your territory?”

  Her gaze met his and she didn’t smile. “I think I am.”

  Clearly she hadn’t liked his right now comment. He wanted to figure out how to feel about that, but before the thought could penetrate, she moved the crop down to his cock. His fists clenched as he wondered about her intentions. How pissed off was she?

  She read his rigid pose easily. “Haven’t you ever heard the expression don’t bite the hand that feeds you?”

  She was still teasing his rigid flesh with the crop and he was having serious trouble processing her meaning.

  “Yeah,” he barked out.

  “I’m not about to maim something that gives me so much pleasure.”

  With her words, he released the breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding. Christ, the woman held hi
m in the palm of her hands. His head was screaming at him to jerk the bar off the wall, free himself from her contraption, but his body wouldn’t move. Even with her taunts, her threats, his stupid cock remained standing at attention, begging her for more.

  She walked around him slowly, crossing the threshold into his office. His back was to her and he knew she was about to up the ante on their wager. She dragged her fingernail along his back. “You liked spanking my ass.”

  Her words were a statement, not a question, so he didn’t reply. He hadn’t liked spanking her. He’d fucking loved it. There was something about seeing her ass marked by his hand. Some dark possessive part of his nature craved that mark.

  “Maybe that will help you understand why I need to do this.”

  Before he could reply, she brought the crop down on his back. If he’d expected tenderness, he’d been a damn fool. She knew what she was doing, knew how to use the instrument in her hand. Three more times, she struck, each blow touching him in a different place. His back was on fire and he couldn’t hold back the groan that escaped each time she hit him.

  She paused after the fourth blow, stepping forward. It took him a moment to realize what she was doing. She was blowing on his back. Her lips dispersed cool air along every mark of the crop. His cock twitched. He squirmed. It felt amazing. Like nothing he’d never experienced.

  He felt like a powder keg about to explode. “God, Frankie. Can’t last. Gotta come.”

  She placed a gentle hand on his back. “No. Not yet.” She increased the pressure, pushing on his sore skin, the pain helping him forget his need for a moment.

  He heard her drop the crop on the floor and he struggled to decide whether he was relieved or disappointed. Her hands gripped his waist from behind and she tugged him toward her.

  “Bend at the waist,” she commanded. “As much as you’re able.”

  He complied. Somewhere along the line, he’d given his body to her. He was hers for the taking, the exploring, the adventure. There was—quite simply—nothing he wouldn’t give her at this moment.