Wild Rush: A Bad Boy Romance Read online

  Justin, on the other hand, seemed weirdly keyed up. He was still the man I knew—and loved—but there was a barely-controlled energy inside him I hadn’t witnessed before. He filled his own glass and clinked it against mine even though we’d already done that earlier. “To twenty-three,” he said.

  “Yep, I’m getting pretty old,” I said with a sly smile since he was five years older than me.

  He grinned, but not at my teasing. “I wasn’t referring to twenty-three years,” he said. Surprised, I looked over at him, but the look on his face—which could only be properly described as wicked—clued me in. Twenty-three birthday spankings. I felt my cheeks flush, but then he winked, and spoke again. “I was referring, of course, to twenty-three candles on your cake. Why, what did you think I meant?”

  Blushing, I tried to return his frank smile, but it was hard. My embarrassment seemed to amuse him, and I wondered if that meant that this was starting. Wasn’t that something doms did, make their subs squirm and blush? Good thing I already excelled at both of those.

  To cover my nerves, and my sudden urge to bake, I started talking. A lot. “Thank you again for arranging this meal. It was utterly amazing. And everything looks so good. It looks like you even polished the table—did you really do that just for me? And the cinnamon scented soaps in the bathroom were a nice touch—”

  Justin looked at me calmly as I kept going. Part of my brain was telling me to shut up and let the man I loved take charge. And another part was afraid to shut up. Afraid to let things happen. Fortunately, Justin took the decision out of my hands.

  “If you’re done, why don’t you bring your wine into the living room and sit with me?”

  I gulped. Was I ready for what was coming next? Probably not, but I’d reached the point where I knew I’d never be more ready. The only thing to do was to try it—or bow out. So I’d try it. That was what I was here for, right? Otherwise, we would’ve had dinner at the restaurant. Excitement bubbled inside me, but I was nervous, too. Those conflicting emotions were at a virtual tie. I wondered which one would be ahead by the end of the evening?

  The living room was dim. At some point since I’d first arrived, he’d lit more candles. He walked me over to the sofa, kissed me, and told me to wait. A few moments later, soft music filled the room. Then, he was back at my side, pulling me down onto his lap on the sofa.

  My dress—a soft, pink knit—rode up, so my bare thighs pressed against his charcoal grey slacks. He’d worn a nice sweater with a shirt and tie underneath. His frequent, admiring glances throughout dinner told me he was as pleased with the way I looked as I was with him.

  His hand plunged into my hair, and he pressed my head against his, treating me to another long kiss. I melted against him, feeling the heat from his skin connect with the heat from mine, even through our clothes.

  In the soft light, my whole world was reduced to his body underneath me, his lips pressed to mine, his arms wrapped around me. He grasped the back of my head holding me close. His free hand rested on my thigh, stroking and kneading. After over a year of being intimate with him like this, it still felt so amazing. Even the light graze of his fingertips on my skin excited me. To be in his arms, engulfed in his embrace was heavenly.

  I shifted in his lap, wanting to be even closer to him. His strong, muscular arms lifted me easily, repositioning me so I was facing him, straddling his thighs. From this position, I was the one who had to lean my head down to kiss him—a total reversal of our usual situation. It felt new and thrilling—as did my spread thighs hovering over his.

  His hands were on my back now, rubbing, stroking, and occasionally dipping to squeeze my ass. Every time he did, I flinched in delicious anticipation, knowing that wasn’t the only way he’d be touching me there this evening.

  Under ordinary circumstances, I would’ve reached down to undo his zipper now, but these weren’t ordinary circumstances. When he put his hands under my thighs and stood up, lifting me with him, I almost forgot that as I kicked off my heels and wrapped my legs around his waist. For one heady moment, I thought he was going to carry me to the bedroom and make love to me. Then I remembered there was a new plan.

  Justin held me in his arms, shifting slowly in place, almost as if we were slow-dancing though my feet never touched the floor. Warm lips nuzzled my neck and I could hear his voice like a gentle sigh against my neck. “Are you ready to begin your birthday spankings?”

  “Yes,” I breathed back.

  “Good girl,” he murmured, his voice soft, silky, but still firm. “We’ll start with half of them. I think you’ll like it, but if you want to stop, just say ‘birthday balloons.’ That’s your safeword. Or if you forget, just tell me to stop. You know I will, right, babe?”

  “Yes, I know.”

  “I’m proud of you for trying this, Lily.” His words, so simple on the surface, somehow filled me with a strange sort of pride. I wondered if that kind of thing was part of the submissive experience.

  Justin shifted, facing the couch, and set me on my knees on the far right side near the armrest. “Turn and face the end table,” he said, and I did, awkwardly getting my feet behind me as my knees dug into the soft cushions. His hands guided me lightly. Every touch felt like pure electricity.

  He pushed gently on the small of my back, and I got the idea, leaning forward to rest my stomach on the broad, soft armrest of the couch. “Put your hands on the table.” I did, noting that he'd moved it forward a few inches to be within easy reach.

  Strong hands stroked my back through my dress. Shivers coursed through me, both from his touch and from my unfamiliar yet exciting position. It was almost as if I was on all fours, my hands on the end table, my knees on the couch. But my stomach was supported by the arm of the sofa. Even with my clothes on, it felt like a decadent position, with my ass pushed out and my back arched. It wasn’t uncomfortable. At least not physically.

  Justin’s caress on my back and my pose were beginning to make me feel like a cat getting petted, which again seemed like something of a submissive way to be feeling. Then his warm hand stilled on my upper back, and he crouched down, his face level with mine.

  Leaning forward, Justin twisted around until out lips met. I closed my eyes as his mouth claimed mine again and shuddered when he withdrew, dragging my bottom lip with him before releasing it. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes.” I almost didn’t recognize my voice. It was breathy and filled with longing.

  “Do you think you can address me properly while we’re doing this?” he said, and his simple words made heat shoot to my center.

  I knew exactly what he meant—all that reading had not been for nothing. “Yes, Sir,” I said, and felt the moisture between my legs grow.

  “Good girl,” he whispered, and his hand slid down the curve of my back, across my waist, and to my ass, making me arch my back even more as I shivered in anticipation. But I was still wearing my dress, bra, and panties. Did he want me to take them off? Maybe I should’ve done that before getting on the sofa.

  But before I could open my mouth to ask, I remembered my role here. To trust him. To let him take control. And I also recalled his words about how I couldn’t do anything wrong. So I made myself relax, enjoy the feel of his hand on my backside, and wait to see what would happen next.

  His touch made me feel shivery with anticipation, and a little nervous fear. Heat radiated off his large palm, searing through my dress and panties—until suddenly it didn’t. He’d raised his hand, I realized. Lowering my head, I squeezed my eyes shut.

  The sharp smack landed on my left cheek, and I couldn’t help letting out a small cry even though I braced for it. It stung. The pain was only for an instant, but the stinging sensation lingered for a few more seconds. Not that it had been too painful, but still—

  “Ouch!” The second time his hand came down, it was on my right side. I opened my eyes when I felt movement nearby, and then Justin’s lips were on my neck, nuzzling gently while he rubbed my ass, lightly s
queezing the areas he’d just spanked. And while I still wasn’t entirely sure what I thought of the spanking, this part felt amazing. It was like my entire body was more sensitive, more receptive to his touch.

  Moaning, I leaned into him, loving the way his lips brushed against the tender skin on my throat. His hand was not idle, still rubbing circles on my skin… and then slipping underneath the edge of my dress. I gasped as he tugged the soft material upwards, gathering it at my waist. That meant one less layer between his hand and my skin.

  “Oh!” This time, his hand landed halfway against my thin panties and halfway across the sensitive area at the top of my left thigh. Then there was another on the right side. That was four.

  “Doing okay, babe?” Justin’s whisper was a soft caress under my ear. He sucked on my earlobe, and I moaned. But then a small nip reminded me I hadn’t answered him.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good girl.” His hand was still teasing the spots he’d spanked, his long finger tracing up and down the line of my panties. Then I felt his hand leave me and there were two sharp smacks in a row.

  I gasped. It had been a little harder this time, but Justin slipped his free hand down the front of my dress, sliding under the bra and finding my hardened nipple. At almost the same time, he ran his other hand down my panties, following the line of my ass and then over my seam. He rubbed up and down, using his fingertips to push the silky material into my slit. I could feel how wet my panties were getting.

  “Halfway point for this round, babe. You’re doing really well.”

  I was actually doing more than just well, I was seriously headed toward hot and bothered. I pressed myself back against his hand, wanting to feel his fingers more fully.

  Justin chuckled lightly. “Guess you’re getting into this. But I get to decide how hard to touch you.” He punctuated this statement with a pinch of my nipple that caught me by surprise. Like the first spank, it hurt for the briefest of seconds, but then I could feel the blood rushing in and my nipple growing even harder. He shifted to the other nipple to tease it, too.

  “Think you’re ready to try it without panties?” He accentuated his words by squeezing a handful of my butt cheek, making me whimper with surprise… and with need.

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Immediately, I felt his hand at the waist of my panties, easing one side down a few inches, then the other. His other hand was still occupied with my nipple. Only using one hand made the process of peeling down my panties slower, but I thought I knew why he was doing it that way—for the build-up. And it was pretty damn effective. I’d been naked in front of him hundreds of times, but this slow reveal was getting to me. I moaned, and he chuckled at my response.

  Finally, he got the panties down past my ass, letting them settle at the top of my thighs, rolled tight. I liked it—it felt like a rope tying me there. And wow, maybe I really did have a submissive side if I was thinking stuff like that.

  “Here we go.”

  Justin’s deep voice was quickly followed by a sharp slap on my ass I didn’t have time to brace for. And it hurt, just for a split second, but it was true pain. And so was the next one. And the ones after that. Fortunately, it abated almost before I could register it, but still, my breath escaped my lips in strangled little gasps. Inside, I was all churned up. Inside I was needful. Inside I was completely turned on and ready to jump him.

  And he knew it, too. The second Justin landed the last smack, he plunged two fingers inside me. I was so wet that he slid in easily, and I cried out at the intense feeling. At the incredible feeling.

  My ass was still stinging while his fingers worked back and forth inside of me, and I couldn’t separate all the different physical sensations some painful, most amazing. I didn’t want to think. I only wanted to come.

  And Justin obliged. He withdrew his fingers but kept his hand between my legs, flipping me over onto my back. Two seconds later, his head was between my thighs.

  Oh my god, it felt so good. His fingers pushed back inside me as his tongue found my clit, swirling, swiping, flicking it back and forth. I couldn’t do much more than lie there, offering up whimpers and gasps of desperation. I needed to come so badly.

  Justin pumped his fingers harder. I was so eager for him that I didn’t care about the way my tender ass stung pressed up against the sofa cushions. I only cared that he not stop. And he didn’t, not even when I ran my fingers through his hair, probably tugging harder than I’d meant to.

  Scissoring his fingers inside me, he licked harder, zeroing in on my clit and not letting up as I gasped and panted and moaned and then cried out as the orgasm washed over me. My body jerked as if electrocuted and I clenched my tight passage around his fingers. I couldn’t help but squeeze my thighs, momentarily trapping his head.

  Justin’s muffled laugh reached my ears as he extracted himself from my tangled limbs. His fingers slid out of me, making me wince. I lay limply on the sofa in front of him, my chest still heaving, and tiny aftershocks occasionally shot through me.

  Panting, I struggled to sit up. Justin wrapped an arm around me and pulled me to his chest, smoothing my dress down and holding me close. For a long time, we sat like that in the candlelit room, the heat of his skin radiating against mine even through our clothes. Finally, I got my breathing under control. I felt tired, as if we’d been playing for hours instead of a short time.

  “I think it’s time for your birthday cake,” Justin said, his voice husky in the dark.

  “But we just ate.”

  “I just ate,” he corrected, and I blushed. “Besides, babe, I think you need a break. Time for some vanilla.”

  That made me sit up. “You didn’t get chocolate?” I knew I should’ve gone with him to pick out the cake. He’s hopeless with those kinds of things.

  Justin stared at me for a long moment and then let out a huge bark of laughter, startling me. He kept laughing, and I couldn’t figure out why until he finally managed to find his voice. “I meant ‘vanilla’ as in a break from BDSM. Vanilla behavior. Of course I got you a chocolate cake.”

  Oh. I felt the corner of my mouth twitch upward. I was embarrassed by my misunderstanding, but I had to admit it was pretty funny.

  Chapter Eight

  FOR THE NEXT half hour, Justin was a perfect but completely mild-mannered boyfriend, the exact opposite of the firm presence he’d been while spanking me. He brought out the cake with twenty-three candles plus one to grow on. And when I blew them out, I didn’t even have to think about what to wish for. My wish was that we’d be together of the rest of our lives.

  As I watched Justin cut the cake, it dawned on me that I’d wished the same thing last year, even though I’d just met him. He was the one for me. I just hoped he thought I was the one for him, too. I hoped that this experience tonight would bring us even closer.

  The cake was delicious, a rich German chocolate with the most decadent coconut icing I’d ever tasted. It was even better when I licked some off of Justin’s fingers, showing him I had a talented tongue too. I hoped I would get to remind him of that again tonight.

  He was obviously thinking along the same lines, because though he cleared away the plates and the cake like the dutiful boyfriend I’d known for the past year, something about his demeanor was changing. The way he looked at me was changing. I couldn’t quite pinpoint how, but my body knew at some instinctual level. Every time he looked at me, my pulse quickened. And when he suggested we go in his bedroom, I knew that we were moving back into BDSM mode.

  Justin took me in his arms and kissed me. “You taste like chocolate,” he murmured.

  “You too.”

  He took my hand and led me back into the bedroom. The lights were off there, too, but he turned on the bathroom light and then shut the door most of the way. That left the room fairly dark, but we could still see each other.

  Thankfully, it meant he probably couldn’t see the nervous blush spreading across my face though he knew me well enough to guess it was there. A
nd my rapid breathing and heartbeat would be apparent to anyone within five feet of me. I was excited, I wanted to do this… but I was also scared. Not of him, just of doing of something so unfamiliar. Unfamiliar to me, at any rate.

  “Are you ready, Lily?” Justin aimed his soft but firm words at the side of my neck, and I could feel the heat of his body behind me.

  “Yes, Sir,” I said.

  “Good girl,” he murmured. “Time to get rid of that dress. Pretty though it is, I’ve been wanting to tear it off you since you first stepped through my door. Raise your hands above your head.”

  A gasp escaped my lips even though he had seen me naked every week for the past year. But this felt different. His hands grazed against my thighs, pulling the hem of my dress upward, over my hips, past my breasts, and up my arms. He’d undressed me plenty of times, too, but still, I shivered. I didn’t know what he’d do next. I didn’t know what he’d want me to do next. And part of me was dying to know, but another part of me was still nervous.

  Once my dress was on the bed, he kissed my neck, his scruffy jawline tickling my throat. I brought one hand down to cradle his head, and he stiffened. “I didn’t tell you to lower your hands,” he said. His tone was not angry, not harsh… just firm. Commanding. It was completely different than the way he normally spoke.

  A warm hand descended on my freshly-spanked backside, and I squealed. He didn’t squeeze, but his grip was firm enough for me to know that I would definitely feel it if he did.

  “I’m sorry, Sir,” I said, stretching my arms out above my head again.

  “Much better,” he said, his nose buried in my hair, nuzzling the nape of my neck. “Your hair smells so good.”

  I wasn’t sure if I was supposed to thank him, so I stayed silent, and that seemed to be all right with him.

  He ran his fingers lightly up and down my arms, down to my sides and back up again. It was not quite light enough to tickle, fortunately, but somehow the teasing touch made me want more. More of what I couldn’t say exactly, but definitely more.