How I Want You - Part Two

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Week One Excerpt - Part Two

Read Part One Here

Welcome back to the wonderful world of NaNoWriMo, where I try to finish a novel in a month. Well, actually where I'm trying to finish the novel I began last year. And just like last year, here's an excerpt from what I've done for Week One of this literary adventure. As always, please enjoy.

Sam heard Fischer chuckle. “I think my naughty girl likes this too much.” He tsked. She felt his hands cup the backs of her thighs. His hands felt rough and hot against her skin. She sucked in a shocked breath as she felt his hands coast upward, catching her skirt and raising it up.

Her brain blanked. She wasn’t so sure about this. She ought to stop this. While she might feel exposed bent over with her ass in the air, that was a far cry from actually flashing her butt to a room full of strangers. She shivered as she swore she could feel the club’s open air—hot, sticky, and heavy with human sweat and sex—on her ass. The thong she’d chosen earlier in the evening because it felt risqué and fun now felt flimsy, a thin slip of cloth between her cheeks, a tiny, cotton triangle that barely hid her pussy.

“That’s better,” she heard Fischer groan, pleasure clear in his voice. His hands massaged her flesh, cupping and caressing her in his hands. “So beautiful.”

Sam bit her lip. He sounded so turned on; she didn’t want to ruin that. She wasn’t that uncomfortable, right? Not enough to make a big deal out of it. She didn’t think. She felt the muscles in her butt tense.

She cried out when his hand hit her ass next, the impact feeling more intense than before. Her eyes bugged and her mouth gaped. Sam heaved as she heard Fischer’s gleeful chuckle. Breathe. Just breathe.

But, instead, she sucked in a deep breath and held it as he smacked her over and over. Each strike burned in a hot bloom over her skin. She imagined her flesh, red and warm. Maybe with his handprint, like a brand, left on her body. She thought about the people all around them seeing that mark like a visible connection between them.

Feeling scandalously sensual, she let herself go, gave into the rhythm of it all. Her eyes focused on the strobe’s red pulse against the booth’s wall. The beat of the music drummed through her head. She didn’t understand why, but it seemed to trip something in her mind. Letting her body sink and settle into his strikes, feeling it—the beats and off-beats—like some sexual embodiment of jazz. She felt a throb inside herself that started against her ass—in the slap of his hand on her flesh—and moved through her. Like a tingle through her legs and toes. Like a headed churn through her hips and belly. Like a gripping clench in her lungs and throat. It rattled around her head, stirring her thoughts in a mix of adrenaline and endorphins. She bit her lip as that rhythm—that song—played down deep between her legs, tightening her thighs and slickening her sex.

God, it was almost too much. And, at the same time, not enough. She felt lost in it. She felt finally found.

She gasped—her held breath torn from her lungs—as he grabbed the full, round globes of her ass in his hands. He squeezed. Her head fell forward as sensation flooded her in a ravenous rush. Her body shook in a sob that started as a whimper on her lips that shuddered down her spine and weakened her limbs. She felt Fischer’s arms catch her as her body went limp, crumpling in his embrace.

She heard him coo while he pulled her close, pulling her onto his lap as he joined her on the bench. “I’ve got you,” he told her as he wrapped his arms around her. “I’ve got you.”

———

Phil swallowed hard and stared at Pip’s out-stretched hand. He wasn’t sure about this. The dish towel she’d used to tie him up before had been one thing—he could have torn that hold apart at anytime. He rattled the chain above him, felt the thin metal capturing his wrist. He wasn’t breaking out of this on his own. If he did this, he would be entirely in her hands.

He looked at those hands that held the other restraint. Long-fingered and elegant, her hands were beautiful. Manicured in a deep red, they looked strong and feminine, capable and sensual. Just like the woman herself. If he had to put himself in anyone’s hands, it would be with someone he trusted as much as he did Pip.

So he held out his hand, feeling like she were leading him somewhere as she locked him into place. His arms hung with his elbows bent and his wrists just above his head.

She stood with her hands on his shoulders. “How’s that feel?” He felt her hands massage the tense muscles. “Not too tight, right?”

He gave the chain a bit of a pull, feeling it tense and the metal cuffs bite into his wrists. “No,” he told her, “not too tight.”

“Not too much?” she asked, her tone concerned.

He looked up at the cuffs. He could see the latch that would release each restraint. He let the chain slip on the hook, seeing its slack as he straightened his arms. Looking at it all now, he was almost sure that he could get out of this, if he needed to. If he wanted to.

He was just as sure that he didn’t want to.

“Not too much,” he told her.

She smiled and kissed his forearm. “Good, because I’ve got eighteen minutes and I don’t plan on letting you go until they’re up.”

He shivered as her tongue and teeth and lips touched his arm. She nipped at his shoulder and neck before soothing the slight hurt with wet kisses. She moved down his chest, her hands joining her full lips in worship. His body tingled as her fingers brushed over his nipple. He’d never had a woman do that—not with Pip’s particular brand of tantalizing deliberateness. It was another one of those things that he had never really thought about—had certainly never missed—but made him wonder if he would from now on.

Her tongue flicked over the sensitive flesh before moving to his other nipple, giving it as much attention. When she kissed her way down his stomach, her hands reached for the clasp of his dark jeans. “Pip.” He panted as she lowered his zipper. Yes. She tongued his navel, taking her time before she shoved his pants’ heavy material down, catching his boxers along with it. He felt the elastic catch on the rise of his erection, pressing the cotton against the head of his cock. A moan slipped out from his throat.

She giggled as she reached into the vee of his fly and untangled him, freeing his hard cock. He bit his bottom lip as he felt his clothes puddle around his ankles, leaving him naked before her. She sunk to her knees, her breath hot against his hip. “Pip.” He shuffled his feet as he instinctively pulled against his restraints. He wanted to pull her close. Wanted to sink deep into her mouth that panted just inches away. Wanted to feel her wet heat move on him sweetly. “Pip, please.”

He felt her smile against his hip when she pressed close. She trailed sloppy kisses along the crease of his thighs. She nibbled down the insides of his thighs. She tongued behind his knees.

Then she slapped the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He jerked and yelped, hearing her chuckle. “Are you laughing at me?” he balked in mock indignity.

“Uh-huh,” she giggled and nodded before trailing her tongue along the length of the abused skin.

Phil grabbed the chain the cuffs hung from in tight fists and moaned at the slick stroke over his sensitive skin. “You know, it’s not usually a good thing when a woman laughs at a man after she takes off his pants.” He squirmed when she scratched her nails down his thighs in a sharp slide. “It can make a guy feel…” His breath hitched when she bit his belly, just above the head of his cock. “Inadequate.”

“Mmm,” she purred, tickling her hand up his thigh. “I’d hate for that to happen.” She kissed and licked the skin around his erect dick, teasing but never actually touching his penis. “Especially, when you, Phil, are anything but.”

“Pip,” he begged, willing her to touch his cock. With her hand, her mouth, her pussy, whatever. He just needed to feel her. “God, c’mon, please.”

Pip laughed, the sound rumbling deep in her throat. Phil groaned and tensed as he felt her take him into her mouth. Her tongue swirled over the head of his penis before licking down his shaft. Her mouth felt amazing as her lips moved over him. Her hand gripped the base of his cock, stroking him between her thumb and forefinger, the touch an added layer to his pleasure.

He tugged at the chain and wished that he could bury his hands in her hair. He wanted to touch her face. He wanted to lie her beneath him. But he couldn’t. He felt the cuffs cut into his wrists as he frustratedly pulled, the bite a sharp contrast against the sweet soft, heat of her mouth.

Desires swam inside him. Desire for what he wanted to do. For what was happening. For what he couldn’t do. They all built upon each other, fueling each other, until he was so full of want and need.

She sucked him deep one more time before she let him slip out of her mouth. “Tell me what you want.” Her hand slipped wetly over his still slick penis. “What do you need?”

“You,” he said on a moan. He wanted her.

“How do you want me?” She increased her hand’s speed on his dick. “Tell me.”

He bit his lip, closing his eyes while savoring the sensation. “I want your mouth on me again,” he said. She nodded and obligingly moved toward his cock again. “But, this time,” he added as she parted her lips, “I want you to touch yourself too.”

Pip paused for a second. He looked down and saw her blinking up at him. She smiled as she caught his gaze. She leaned back and reached for the sides of her unzipped catsuit. She tugged the skintight material over her shoulders and down her arms. Phil’s eyes widened as he took in her dark nipples, hard tips on her small, sleek breasts. His mouth watered, wanting the taste of those sweet peaks on his tongue. “More,” he murmured, his eyes eagerly following as she pulled the suit lower and lower. “More.”

She tsked. “Greedy boy,” she scolded. “You just said to touch myself.” Her hands reached up to play with her nipples. “How’s this?” Her voice lowered.

He looked down as she bent forward again, taking his cock back into her mouth as she flicked her fingers over her nipples. Ah, yes, he loved watching her touch herself while she touched him. The thought of her feeling aroused was arousing. “Touch your pussy,” he begged. “Rub your clit.” He swallowed as she groaned against his dick. “Please.”

The head of his cock slid down her throat as her hands moved down from her breasts. She tucked her hand into the vee of her suit. Bent over like she was, he couldn’t see her hand move. But he saw her body go taut. Heard her moan and pant. Her lips sucked him harder, deeper, as her pleasure built. Her hips hitched and her breath caught. Her throat tightened on him when she choked slightly.

God, it shouldn’t have felt good, but it did. She was close. Just a little more. “Pinch your nipples.” She liked that; he remembered that from before. “Do it.”

Her mouth sucked harder as her hands moved over her body. He felt her gasp as she pinched her nipple. Oh God. Just the thought of it, with the feel of her mouth around him, was enough to push him closer and closer to the edge. Oh God. Her body tensed and she gave a small cry as she came, causing him to fall into his own orgasm. He felt her tongue lick and her throat swallow as he came in a heated rush, pouring himself into her waiting mouth. “Thank you,” he murmured as he let go of the chains in his hands to hang limply on the chains. “Thank you.”

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How I Want You - Part One

Brought to You By

Week One Excerpt - Part One

Welcome back to the wonderful world of NaNoWriMo, where I try to finish a novel in a month. Well, actually where I'm trying to finish the novel I began last year. And just like last year, here's an excerpt from what I've done for Week One of this literary adventure. As always, please enjoy.

This was amazing!

Sam Schaffer’s grip on Fischer’s left elbow tightened as they entered the darkened, black painted, cavelike club. She could hear the hard, pounding music raging to the red strobe lights pulsing wildly about the space. She could see barely lit people in all states of dress.

She blinked at a woman who was wearing tight leather pants and nothing more than two crisscrossed strips of duct tape over her nipples. A man led another woman around in handcuffs attached to his belt. A dark-haired woman stood in the middle of the dance floor swinging a long, heavy whip as she swiveled and swayed. A group of men watched her, fascinated.

Sam’s feet tripped as she lingered just a bit too long, staring at her gyrating hips. Fisher had a rule that, out in public—but especially tonight—when they were walking, she was to stay one step behind him on his left side. But that wasn’t the easiest to do with the dense crowd, writhing around her. She flinched as some dancer’s flogger flicked too close to her face. She ducked and shuffled closer to Fischer. There was just so much going on everywhere.

A part of her nervously shied away from it all while she watched a mostly naked man follow a latex-clad Domme on his knees as he licked the floor where she’d walked. But a part of her longed to dive right in. Her eyes widened as they came close to the club’s dungeon. It was a small, packed room filled with tables and booths of spectators, sipping drinks and enjoying the show. In the front corners of the room, two Dommes, sensually wrapped in leather and lace, worked over two hooded, bare-backed subs chained to the room’s walls.

The strikes of their crop and two-tailed whip punctuated the music blaring behind them. The strobe lights flickered over the Dommes’ thin, toned bodies. Even in the poor lighting, Sam could see blood dribble down the male sub’s back as the sharp whip bit into his flesh. She heard the female sub moan, the high-pitched sound quivering between pain and pleasure as her arms hung slack from the chains and her back arched with each slap of her Domme’s crop.

“Do you want me to put you on the list?” Fischer asked, leaning to whisper into her ear even as he pulled her closer against his body. She could feel him aroused and eager against her hip and wondered if he would enjoy seeing her bound to the wall in front of all these people.

“Would you be playing with me?” she asked.

He shook his head. “This is their space,” he told her. “Their equipment. Their toys. But,” he said, biting her ear and making her shiver, “I’d be right here watching.”

Sam bit her lip. She didn’t know. She watched the Dommes turn to swap partners, letting the crop that had been leaving harsh lines on the woman now mark the man and the whip that had cut into the man’s skin now sting and slash across the woman’s already abused back. Sam had never played with anyone but Fischer. Hadn’t even thought about what that would be like.

“C’mon,” he murmured against her temple. He ground his hip against hers, pressing himself hard and urgent against her. “You wanted to see what this was like, right? Here’s your chance.”

Sam worried her lip as the whipped woman’s cries rung in her ears.

Sam shook her head. “I don’t think that I can do that,” she said worriedly. “Not tonight anyway.”

Fischer frowned, but nodded. “All right,” he said with a bit of a pout. “I understand.” He took her hand and placed it in the crook of his elbow. “How about we grab a seat and just enjoy the show then?”

Sam gave him a relieved smile. She’d like that a lot. She followed him through the crowd to a booth closer to the front of the room. She noticed several couples like she and Fischer gathered in the crowd. A steampunk princess sat on a goth guy’s lap, grinding her hips over his as they kissed. A badass biker had his hand up a giggling, masked girl’s dress. Sam blinked and stared as they passed a couple hidden in the dark corners of another booth. She could barely see the guy—he was nothing more than tattered denim cuffs and an unlaced pair of tennis shoes—but the girl on her hands and knees on the bench bobbed in an obvious rhythm over him.

It was raw. Untamed and unapologetic. As if, in the shadows of the night, every dirty desire came out into the light. As if the dark gave them permission to want—to embrace—the darker sides of themselves. Her grin widened as Fischer ushered her into a booth with a sweeping bow. She curtseyed before she sidled onto the bench, smiling as she thought of Fischer watching her wiggle into the tight space in her short skirt and stockings. She looked back over her shoulder at him, enjoying the dazed look on his face as his eyes focused on her ass. She giggled.

Without warning, she felt him—hard and unyielding—against her back, a crushing arm wrapped around her waist. “Are you laughing at me?” His voice was a grizzled rasp.

Her breath caught in her throat. She tried to swallow, but she couldn’t. She shook her head as panic clawed at her skin.

“Sounds like you are,” he scolded, the sound cutting through the club’s noise. “Were, anyway.” He gave his own graveled laugh as his hand opened on her belly, his fingers stretched possessively across her body. “Not laughing now.”

She gasped as his hands grabbed her hips and jerked her back, making her fall to her hands and knees on the bench. Her heart raced and she panted. With her bent-over and backside-up, she felt exposed in the crowded club. She couldn’t see from her position, but she thought she could feel every person’s gaze centered on her. Felt their held collective breath as they waited—as she waited—to see what would happen next.

“ ‘Must be because you know you’ve been bad,’ ” she heard Fischer say, his hands and his voice feeling so large and imposing at this moment. “ ‘You must know you need to be punished.’ ”

She recognized the lines from her favorite BDSM novel, Steele’s Edge. Elliette Roberts’s writing coming out of Fischer’s mouth. Gregor Steele’s words said in Fischer’s voice. Sam’s face flushed and she felt her stomach flutter.

Reveling in the perfection of the moment, she welcomed the slap of Fischer’s hand against her ass. The sting of it made her moan and arch her back. Heat hummed along her skin.

———

Pip Jones giggled and led Phil Schaffer into one of the private rooms. “C’mon,” she said, pulling him into the room and shutting the door behind them. “According to the sign-up sheet, this room is open for the next twenty minutes.”

“Is that right?” Phil raised an eyebrow as he reached for her, shifting to press her back against the wall.

Pip let her head hit the hard surface when she felt his lips against her neck. She moaned and cupped the back of his head, holding him to her while he nipped and licked at her skin. She pulled his head up to hers for a heated kiss. She felt ravenous. She couldn’t touch enough of him.

Her hands reached for his clothes even as his found hers. She unbuttoned his shirt and slid it off his shoulders between kisses, the feel of his sleek skin hot and smooth under her hands. She shuddered as he slipped her suit’s zipper down. The metal pull from her throat, between her breasts, down her stomach, and past her navel felt electric. He reached beneath the fabric and pressed his hands against her breasts, rasping her nipples along eager palms. His hands moved down, tracing over her ribcage and along her hips. His fingers dipped over her thighs to the apex of her legs.

She grabbed his wrists and held them tight in her hands. Not quite yet. She grinned. She wasn’t quite ready for thins to progress that far. Not yet. There was too much she wanted to do still. No, no. She was far from done yet.

With one of his wrists in each hand, she thrust them behind his back and frog-marched him across the room, using their heated kiss to guide him. She used her body to press him to the wall, trapping his hands against it at shoulder-height. She bit and sucked at his lips, sliding her tongue inside his welcome mouth to play with his, while she slid his hands high above his head. God, he tasted good, like mint and heat and man.

She let go of one wrist and was more than pleased when he kept his hand where it was. He was such a good sport. She grabbed one of the cuffs dangling from a hook in the ceiling and snapped it over the wrist she still held.

She smiled as Phil tore his lips from hers. “Uhhh,” he said as he looked up at his now bound wrist. He pulled his arm down, yanking on the long chain holding the cuffs together. “You sure about this?”

Pip jumped up and snatched the other cuff before he could tug it out of reach, stopping his arm’s movement. Wouldn’t want to ruin their fun before it even got started. She smiled as she released the cuff’s latch. “Oh, absolutely.” She held out her hand for his other one. “Are you?” 

Read Part Two Here