53

Joey
When I show up at Sophie’s townhouse for dinner, I hear the music from a musicalI don’t know which oneblasting inside. I tap on the door, but I’m guessing she can’t hear me, so I try the handle and find it open.
I don’t like that. Her neighborhood sucks, and the idea of someone walking in on her makes me angry as fuck.
But I soon forget because Sophie’s in the kitchen, singing along to the music at the top of her lungs. I stop, transfixed. She sings like an angel. She looks like a goddess. She’s swaying to the music in another short skirt paired with a top that shows off her flat midriff, some of the pieces I sent her. What else can I send her? Her feet are bare.
Her eyes are closed, her head falling back, so her thick hair moves in waves down her back. She bounces on her feet wearing a look of pure joy on her face. I lean in the door frame, drinking in the show.
When her eyes flicker open and she sees me, she shrieks and laughs. “I didn’t hear you come in!” She lunges for the music and turns it down.
I hand her the bundle of orange roses I brought and set the bottle of wine on the counter. “Yeah, you need to keep your door locked when you’re here alone,” I say. “But don’t stop singing. Please-don’t stop.”
“Thank you for the flowers.” She offers her cheek for a kiss, but I catch her jaw and turn her face to claim her mouth. “I mean it,” I murmur. “Please don’t stop. I was enjoying the show.” I nudge her back into the kitchen, sidling up behind her to mold my body to hers and slow dance with my arm wrapped around her waist. She sways with me.
“Didn’t think you were the dancing type.”
“You like to dance?” I turn her around and back her up against the counter, pressing my body against hers. “Is that what you want to do for our third date? Go dancing?”
“This is our third date, remember?” She’s smiling, though. “But I might consider a dancing date since they’re pretty hard to find.”
“I would love to take you out dancing. See those gorgeous legs moving around the dance floor in one of your tight skirts. Mmm, but I don’t know if I could handle other guys looking at you, though.”
“Come on, really? You’re that type?”
“Bella, I’m possessive as hell. But fuck it, I’d be proud to show you off in whatever you want to wear. I’ll make sure no one touches you.” I give her a wink. “I know how to fight.”
She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s turned on by the way her nipples protrude through the thin fabric of her bustier. I make a mental note to send her couture evening dancing outfits. Shoes. And definitely lingerie.
I uncork the bottle of wine and pour us each a glass while she serves dinnerbaked salmon with broccoliand we sit down at her small round table to eat.
“So… Joey?” She looks nervous. There’s something different about her tonight. Something a little more open. More vulnerable. “About last night. Was that for real?”
“What do you mean?”
She sips her wine. “I mean, were you really mad? Would you have stopped if I said no?”
Cristo. “Soph…of course. No, I wasn’t mad.” I shake my head. “I…get aggressive, but I’m not an asshole.” My chest feels too tight. “Were you scared? I thought you wanted it.”
I’m relieved when she immediately shakes her head. “No, I wasn’t scared.” She swallows like she’s still nervous. That’s when I finally pick up what she’s putting down.
“You liked it.”
She nods.
“A lot.”
A minuscule shrug. She’s so fucking cute. Who knew a few slaps on her ass would be what won her over?
“I got jealous, babygirl. I feel possessive of you, and it got my blood up. I saw my aggression turned you on, and I went with it.”
She watches me with those pale green eyes, and damn if I don’t love the way she’s looking. Like I have something to offer her. Something she wants.
Something she’s still too shy to ask for.
We finish dinner, and she serves chocolate ice cream in little sundae dishes for dessert. I watch the way she sucks on her spoon, remembering the feel of those full lips teasing my cock.
“You liked your spanking. Was that it?” I probe. “You want more?”
Her face flushes, making her pale green eyes stand out against the pink. She scrapes the bottom of her sundae dish scrupulously then shrugs. “I don’t know. No.”
I stand and take the sundae dish out of her hand as I pull her to stand. Wrapping my arms around her waist, I hold her close, lowering my face to hers, so we stand nose to nose. “Did you forget,” I ask softly, “there are consequences for lying to me?”
The pink returns to her cheeks, and her lips part, but no sound escapes. I lower my head to brush them lightly. “Tell me what you liked,” I coax.
She stares up at me, frozen for a long moment. “I liked the idea of you spanking me, maybe,” she admits at last. “Or… maybe just the dominance. But that doesn’t mean I want a dominant man.”
I laugh. “You don’t want to give me any footing, here. I get it. I know dominating you would be a privilege I’d have to earn.”
She looks up with a mixture of surprise and gratitude on her face.
I cup her chin and kiss her, exploring their softness with my own. “I do intend to earn it,” I say in a low voice.
Sophie
Joey helps me wash the dishes and clean up from dinner, and he pours us more wine then takes my hand and leads me to the bedroom. My heart races in anticipation. He doesn’t seem particularly rough or aggressive right now, but I told him what I wanted. I feel certain he’s going to deliver it. He’s so tuned in and misses nothing. Even things I’m afraid to see.
I’m already worried I bit off more than I can chew.
To add to the anticipation, Joey doesn’t say a word. He doesn’t kiss me or finesse me. He simply starts to undress me, tugging my top over my head. Unclasping my bra. There’s a dark intensity to him. The promise of pain or punishment, but also pleasure.
He slides my skirt and panties down my hips, and they drop to the floor, so I’m standing in front of him fully naked, and he’s fully dressed. There’s no mistaking the power dynamic. He’s in charge. I’m bared to him.
Every nerve in my body dances, listening for what’s going to happen next. There’s a slow, insistent pulse between my legs.
Joey sits on the edge of the bed and tugs me between his knees. He kisses between my breasts and massages my ass. Sucks one nipple into his mouth. I shift from foot to foot-so aware of how bare I am. That he is taking all of me in-turned on and impatient for more.
Then he gives it to me. He tugs my torso down onto the bed, so I’m lying across one of his knees. The first few smacks he delivers to my ass are slow with squeezing and rubbing in between. I moan, pushing my ass out, dying for more. He responds by wrapping an arm around my waist and spanking me harder. I yelp, hating it at first, but I don’t tell him to stop. After a moment, I adjust to the sting. My flesh warms, and the shock goes away. The slaps become welcome. Pleasurable, even. The nerve endings between my legs register it all as sex. As foreplay. As stimulation.
I can’t stop the little gasps and cries from escaping my lips, and I don’t want him to stop. The pain increases-my butt heating, each new strike coming as a new sting. I start to wriggle, wanting more. Wanting less. The sensations taking over all my mental faculties.
Joey stops and rubs my ass. “Good girl,” he murmurs.
I wouldn’t think I’d love to hear those words from him, but they only further ignite my excitement. I grind my hips on his lap wantonly. I need release, desperately.
Joey runs his large, warm hand over my heated ass, sliding it down one thigh, then back up again, seemingly without agenda.
Well, I have an agenda. I slide off his lap onto my knees and reach for the button on his pants. His eyes darken with desire, passion evident in his expression. His cock thickens the moment I grip it, springing out of his boxer briefs as he slides forward on the bed to give me easy access. I flick my tongue over the head, circling the rim before taking his full length into my mouth.
He groans appreciatively.
I slide up and down, massaging his balls with one hand and squeezing the base of his cock with the other. When I pull off and blow on his moistened shaft to tease him, he groans again.
I take him back into my mouth, and he shudders. I turn my lips in over my teeth and hum as I slide up and down over his shaft. He grasps the back of my head, encouraging my movement. “God, yes!” he gasps.
I pull off again, flicking my tongue over the head, lapping the weeping slit. The next time I take him fully, he grasps my hair, pulling me in and out with an uncontrolled urgency. Just when I think he’s going to come, he pulls me all the way off.
“On your hands and knees.” His voice thick.
I drop to position, and he slides his fingers between my legs, testing my readiness, giving a growl of approval when he finds me dripping wet.
I wait, holding my tingling ass perfectly still for his taking. He lowers to his knees on the bed behind me and enters slowly, but soon begins plowing into me, bumping so hard I travel forward. He grasps my hips and tugs me back, only to repeat the dance.
The next time he pulls me back, he spins me around so my torso rests on the bed. Now, properly braced, he pounds into me.
I lose control at the sensation of his cock hitting my inner wall, the slap of his flesh against my burning ass, and the memory of what he just did to me. I jerk as an orgasm rips through me, and my knees slide out, only Joey’s strong hands at my hips hold me steady until he finds his release with a howl of pleasure.
He stays inside me until his orgasm is complete then pulls me down to the floor, where we both lie sprawled on our backs-my passion relieved, a sense of vulnerability creeps in. Remembering Sereva’s advice to ask for what I need, I say, “Joey?”
“Yeah?”
“Will you hold me?”
In a flash, he pulls me in his arms, wrapped so close to him I can’t distinguish where my body stops and his begins. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs. “I’m still learning how to be your man.”
My heart flutters. Damn Joey LaTorre. I don’t want him to be my man, but he seems to be exactly what I’ve been missing my whole life. And even if I’m resisting, it’s a position he is clear about filling.