Don't Come Read online

  I released my nipples, feeling the blood flooding back to the peaks, making them heat and pulse in a way that I hadn't felt before, but made the pressure on my lower belly increase, making it clear that while it was foreign, it was also something I enjoyed.

  "Is your pussy wet?" he asked, voice rolling over my skin deliciously.

  "Yes, sir."

  "Tell me."

  I was never great with dirty talk. I enjoyed hearing it. I liked the idea of being able to say it myself but had never felt the confidence to do so.

  "Adley, tell me," he commanded, voice brooking no room for argument.

  My eyes squeezed closed tighter as I took a breath. "My pussy is wet."

  "Do you want to touch it for me?"

  God, yes.

  "Yes, sir," I admitted, hearing the neediness slipping into my words, finding that I didn't even care that it did.

  "Go ahead," he allowed. "But you don't get to come unless I say you can."

  I wasn't sure if it was something I could control at this point as my hand slid down as instructed, moved to slide up my cleft that was almost embarrassingly wet.

  "Do you like when a man eats your pussy?" he asked, the words breaking a bit through the haze that had been overtaking my brain as my finger found my swollen clit, moving over it carefully, so I didn't come at the contact.

  Did I?

  That was a loaded question.

  It really always depended on your partner, didn't it?

  "Sometimes."

  "Only sometimes? That has to fucking change," he told me as my hand moved back to work my clit, somehow knowing that he could make good on that, that oral from a man like him would probably be legendary, the kind of good you thought about when you touched yourself, or someone who was nowhere near as skilled tried to get you to orgasm. "Ease up," he demanded as I heard my own breathing start to hitch, as my hips started to rise up to meet my touch, as the muscles through my legs began to tense. "Slide your fingers into your pussy instead," he demanded, making my fingers slide downward, sinking silkily inside. "Think about the day I get to own that pussy, fill it with my thick cock, make you stretch to fit me."

  Oh, God.

  How did he expect me to hold on with that thought in my head?

  My fingers started to thrust, a bit tentatively at first, then harder and faster as the need became something painful, something that needed the blissful end.

  "Adley, don't come," he demanded, but I could feel it. I was teetering on the cliff. If I just thrust another time or two, I could fall over into it, could get an end to the frustration that had been my constant companion for months. "Adley, stop," he commanded, voice steel, cutting through the almost-orgasm like a whip through the air.

  My fingers moved out of me, balling up into a fist on my thigh as a whimpering sound of disappointment and frustration clawed its way out of my throat.

  "Breathe," he demanded as I tried to fight off the way my body was starting to shake with unfulfilled need. "That was too close," he chided, making me feel very much like I was being scolded. I guess I was. "When I tell you to stop, you stop. The first time. Understood?"

  I curled up on my side, pulling my knees to my chest, hoping the pressure of my thighs pressed together could ease the throbbing need between.

  "I understand. Sorry," I added, taking a deeper breath, so deep it burned through my lungs, something that was soothingly distracting.

  On his end of the phone, his voice lost its roughness, the edge that had been there since I started touching myself, making me wonder if he had come without me realizing, or if maybe he was denying himself the release as well. Both ideas somehow were equally appealing to me, but I just wanted to know which was true.

  "Is it getting distracting?"

  "Is what getting distracting?" There was a somewhat pointed pause that made me add, "Sir."

  "The need to come," he specified. "Is it starting to make it hard to focus, hard to sleep?"

  He had no idea.

  "Yes."

  "Good. I want you thinking about my cock in your tight pussy every minute of every day. I want you to need it so bad that it aches."

  "It already does," I admitted, seeing no reason to lie.

  There was a low, grumbling noise on his end of the phone, something primal, something that sent another unfair shot of desire to my core. As if I hadn't been tortured enough.

  "It is only going to get worse and worse, Adley. I will make sure of it. Until you agree to meet me. Then maybe I will let you come. Be a good girl and try to get some sleep. I'll call you tomorrow."

  With that, the call ended.

  As I got up to get redressed - and try to find at least some semblance of control over my hyper-aware body - I decided that maybe I should not have put edging as an interest on my damn profile.

  I dropped down in bed, still feeling a dull, throbbing sensation within, knowing I could put an end to it if I really wanted to.

  But I couldn't seem to convince my hands to move.

  Maybe because I secretly liked the torment.

  Or maybe because I thought he would know if I did it whenever he called next.

  Or, possibly more accurately, I really wanted him to be the one to give me the world-shattering orgasm I knew would come of it.

  THREE

  The Dom

  The plan was for her to be distracted every moment of every day.

  Not me.

  But here I was at my desk in the middle of the afternoon, cock hard as a rock, thinking about the sounds she made on the phone at night while I talked to her, instructed her, learned what she could and couldn't take, what she did and didn't like.

  The phone call phase was an important one.

  Any sub could make it sound like they are obeying you via email or text message. They could 'Yes, sir' you to death. They could play coy and sweet and act completely enamored by you.

  It wasn't as easy to lie when there was a real person in your ear, a real dominant force telling you what you could and could not do. Not that a true sub would even genuinely want to lie. They wanted to submit, even if it was uncomfortable for them.

  I preferred the ones who had an internal struggle with it, who didn't just fall at your knees without a command. I liked women who weren't weak and simpering. Sure, they would do in a pinch. But I would always choose a submissive who was naturally dominant in her personal life.

  From what I could gather about Adley/WBSUB, she wasn't looking for a man to save her. She had her own place - without roommates. Sure, she was thirty. But this was the city. Plenty of people had roommates well into adulthood because of the steep cost of rent. So if she was pulling it on her own, she was doing well. And I also knew that she was her own boss. Which was even more impressive.

  You had to hustle hard to make your own business work; I knew that from experience. I also knew because I had paid a mint to have my website built, that there was good money to be made if she got her name out there. Which, apparently, she did.

  Those women, the ones with good heads on their shoulders, the ones who had their shit together, the ones who had fantasies that they hadn't explored yet, they were fucking explosive once you got your hands on them.

  And I wanted to get my hands on Adley.

  Connecting with her, at first, was just because I was in the market for a new sub, because I just so happened to come across her profile. She didn't simper and act coy in her About Me section. She just laid it out as it was. Which was intriguing after going through a dozen profiles of women who were 'good girls just waiting for the right daddy to take care of them' or 'brats who need a strong-handed Dom.'

  I won't lie about the first few conversations, either. They were just going through the motions, awkward as all first interactions online felt.

  But after a week, I found myself invested.

  I actually had to prevent myself from messaging her more than I did, not wanting her to have the upper hand, to know she had a bit of power over me as well.
/>   Then I got a picture.

  It was always a crapshoot.

  Sometimes you found someone gorgeous. Other times, you found out that you matched with someone who - no matter how many times you beat their ass or had them beg to suck your cock - simply couldn't inspire a hard-on.

  Harsh, but true.

  You had to find someone who got your cock stiff, or it wasn't going to work out.

  I learned long ago not to get in too deep, get too invested until I knew there was an attraction factor.

  Then Adley sent the picture.

  And fucking Christ.

  I didn't want to believe it at first, actually. It was too good. She was too fucking beautiful. She had a soft, gently angular face with high cheekbones, porcelain skin, pouty lips, and long black hair. It fell silkily around her shoulders, catching the light and falling to the sides of her breasts. And those eyes... those piercing light blue eyes.

  Fuck.

  It was the kind of picture that you would use to catfish a man. But if you looked, she followed instructions perfectly.

  That was really her.

  Too good to be true, and soon to be all goddamn mine.

  That flawless light skin would look amazing with my handprints on her ass, pink or red and swollen, making her feel me there for a full day after, anytime her clothes brushed her or she tried to sit.

  Yeah, she was going to be mine.

  Then I got her on the phone finally.

  If I had even a shred of doubt about her being the right connection, it was obliterated in just moments.

  She followed instructions but struggled. She needed training. She needed to learn to trust me... and herself. She needed to learn her true limits, not the ones she thought were there.

  And me, yeah, I was just the Dom to give her what she wanted, what she needed.

  I hated the idea of her potential wasted on some wannabe Dom with too heavy a hand, more invested in his pleasure than hers, and no interest in aftercare. Too many women were falling victim to such men these days, thanks to the rise in interest in BDSM, the lack of clear, honest information, and the romanticism of abuse.

  Adley wasn't going to be one of those many women who walk away scarred because someone took a fantasy of theirs and turned it into a nightmare.

  Not on my watch.

  She was going to get the introduction she - and all new subs - deserved.

  Someday.

  I didn't give her a date like I had for the phone calls, an ultimatum - Meet me or else.

  She was still nervous each time she picked up the phone, still uncertain, tentative.

  She wasn't ready yet.

  And it couldn't be forced.

  At least not at this stage.

  If you pushed a sub who was on the fence like she was too hard and too fast, they would run.

  I didn't want to risk that.

  I was giving her her time.

  And it was fucking killing me as much as I knew it was killing her every time I called her, got her almost to the point of no return, and then told her she wasn't allowed to come.

  I wasn't into denial. At least not for myself. Some Doms got off on edging. I wasn't one of them. I found it made me irritable; it made me rush where I should have been taking care, taking my time, making each scene something special for everyone involved.

  So I could - and had - been getting off as much as I wanted over these past several months.

  But it didn't matter how many times I grabbed my cock and tried to get rid of the frustration, it was always still there.

  I had a feeling I wouldn't know what it would be like until I had her.

  So I was suffering right along with her.

  I knew it wouldn't be too much longer.

  Each time I called, she got closer to coming sooner and sooner. She cried out her objections louder when I denied her.

  She must have been barely functioning right about now, her body a sparking, live wire every moment of every day. It would make her on-edge, reactionary.

  If I timed it right and asked for a meeting, she might jump just because she was so beside herself with need. Sure, she might chicken out. There was always that chance. And it didn't help a man's pride to be stood up. But it was a chance you had to take.

  I didn't think she would stand me up.

  She might be late because she was fighting herself every step of the way, but she was going to show eventually.

  She wanted it too much to walk away from it, knowing that she might not get another shot.

  "Yo, boss," Fagan, my assistant, called, snapping in the air from where he was sitting across from me. "Call me crazy, but I don't think you've heard a word I've said."

  "I haven't," I admitted. Because when you were the boss, you could admit shit like that.

  Fagan's head tilted to the side, flipping through my calendar which he kept almost an anal amount of details in, everything from my actual appointments to when he thought it was time for me to consider a change to my wardrobe. Because he didn't like my penchant for black and gray. A little color will give you some pizazz!

  I wasn't exactly a pizazz kind of man.

  "This wouldn't have anything to do with the fact that it has been... almost six months since you had your driver pick up a certain young lady every night for a couple weeks, never to be heard about again, would it?"

  "If you're asking if it has to do with me not getting fucked on the regular, ask that."

  His smile curved up slightly, never one to bow and kowtow, somehow handling my sometimes surly self with a mix of amusement and respect.

  It was why I had a male assistant in the first place. By the time I went through my twelfth female who was either scared off by - or turned-on by - my attitude, I figured it was time to make a change so work could be exclusively about work.

  "When is the last time you got some ass, boss?" he asked, giving me blunt because I asked for it.

  "You know exactly how long it has been."

  Fagan nodded at that, flipping back through my schedule for long enough to make me study his outfit - tight tan skinny jeans, a tucked in blue and white plaid shirt, and a fucking black bowtie. A bowtie.

  It was my own fault for not writing up a dress code. And, honestly, since he was the only person I had come across who could not only handle me and my workload but could make coffee that was more than halfway drinkable, I didn't give a fuck if he showed up to work in a prom dress.

  "Your pattern is three weeks with a woman, then about two months until you find the next one. Why such a dry spell? Your method of growling at them not quite as effective as usual?" At my pause, he looked up, studying my face for a long moment. "That's not it, is it? Are you smitten? Oh, my God... are you? Has the Almighty Dom fallen?"

  I didn't have to ask to know how he knew I was a Dom. When you sent your assistant out on an errand to pick up lube and a new flogger on their first day, they kind of figured it out on their own.

  "Fallen? No. Found someone who is taking some time, but seems worth the wait? Yes."

  "I've worked for you for almost three years now, boss. I've never seen you wait for anyone."

  That was fair enough.

  I was controlling about a lot of things, not just sexual acts. I was a busy man who was always sure to respect your time, so I didn't tolerate you wasting mine. If that meant I pissed off possible business partners, then so be it. I clearly didn't need to be in business with someone who didn't know how to tell time.

  It went doubly true in my personal life.

  "This time, it will be worth the wait."

  "Interesting. Does she have a name, or is she just a screen name like the rest?"

  They all had names.

  Granted, most of them were forgotten as easily as I learned them. Hell, sometimes the only reason I remembered their names was because they were programmed in my phone.

  Why then was Adley's name at the goddamn forefront of my brain all the time?

  One could make an argument for
simple sexual frustration. Fagan was right; I had been in a longer dry spell than usual. I had been pickier than usual too. But after a few lackluster affairs with mediocre scenes and sex, I was willing to deal with the frustration if the release was worth it.

  And if the way I was fucking obsessing over Adley already was anything to go by, it was going to be worth it.

  "They all have screen names. And real names. But never stick around long enough for you to need to learn them."

  "That's cold," he declared, shaking his head at me.

  "They know what they're signing up for."

  "Mhmm," he said, though clearly didn't agree with me.

  It didn't matter. I didn't pay him to agree with me. I paid him to do the tasks I didn't want - or didn't have the time - to do.

  "Is anything pressing now?" I asked, looking over at the clock that said it was just after six p.m.

  Normally, I didn't leave work until well after seven, often later. But if I couldn't focus on what was going on, what was the point of being here? Fagan would probably like an early night to spend with his boyfriend who was forever hounding him about not coming home at a decent hour.

  "Ah, nothing that can't wait," he said, scribbling a note that likely rescheduled a few phone calls I needed to make.

  "Good. Go home. See Haden."

  "I get to go home before eight on a Friday night? I can actually go out and have a social life? Whoever this woman is, I owe her. I am going to get out of here before you change your mind," he declared, snapping the book shut, and rushing out of my office.

  Friday.

  I had no idea what day of the week it was.

  But I had a feeling that this weekend was as good a time as any to give Adley the little push she clearly needed.

  I was finally going to get my hands on her.

  FOUR

  Adley

  I did not decline an invitation to go out and have sushi with friends to sit and wait for my phone to ring.