Rebound: Chapter 19

When I arrive at the Greenwich Village hotel a few nights later, I follow Mr. Smith’s instructions and head straight upstairs. We’re in a different room than usual, and nerves skitter up my spine as I walk along the corridor, looking at the numbers on the doors.

I haven’t seen him since the meeting with Mason, but we’ve spoken on the phone. I told him about my plans to move to Brooklyn straight away. Drake is stuck in the middle enough as it is, and I didn’t want him to feel like he had to have that conversation with his brother.

“Brooklyn?” he repeated.

“Yes, Elijah, it’s a⁠—”

“Yeah, let’s not start with that again—I know where Brooklyn is. Why do you want to move there?”

“Because I like it and Amelia offered to rent me her old house. I meant it when I said I was leaving our place. Please don’t make a big deal of it. Please … just try to be happy for me.”

He went silent for a few moments, and I pictured him googling Brooklyn crime statistics with steam coming out of his ears. “Okay,” he finally said. “I will try to be happy for you. Are you free tomorrow night?”

“Me or Mrs. Smith?”

He laughed. “Oh baby, most definitely Mrs. Smith. Tell her not to bother with underwear.”

Now, I’m here, wearing a slinky, low-cut black dress and no underwear. I feel slutty as hell, especially because I’m already damp between my legs. I have no idea what he has planned for me, but I’m certain I’ll enjoy it.

Once I find the right room, I pause outside for a moment, running my fingers through my hair and taking deep breaths. It’s game time. He tells me to come in after I knock, and I step inside with more confidence than I feel and close the door behind me. I’m barely in the room when he grabs hold of me. I squeal as he spins me around and pushes me face-first against the door. He presses his chest to my back and pins my hands, palms flat above my head.

He nuzzles my neck and kisses my earlobe. “Mrs. Smith. You’re late.”

“I’m not,” I protest, struggling against him. Well, no more than a few minutes.

“If I say you’re late, then you’re late. That’s your first warning. Do you understand?” He presses his hips closer, and his hard cock pushes into me.

“I understand, Mr. Smith. I’m sorry.”

“Good. Now, stay where you are. I need to check that you’ve obeyed the rules.” He slowly runs his big hands down my body, slipping and sliding on the satiny fabric of my dress, exploring every curve. Being searched like this feels incredibly sexy, and I almost wish I hadn’t obeyed the rules. I wonder what he would have done to me.

He pushes the skirt of my dress up and over my thighs, exposing my bare ass. Strong hands skim my flesh and roughly palm my breasts. I cry out when he nips my bare shoulder.

“Very good. No underwear, as instructed.”

I hear a rustling sound, and then the world goes dark. I gasp and protest, but he ignores me, tying the blindfold behind my head, the fabric cool and soft. He turns me around so I’m facing him but still trapped against the door. I reach out and lay my hand on his shoulder. “Elijah, I’m not sure about this.”

I’m even more nervous now, caught between excitement and discomfort. Being unable to see makes me feel vulnerable. He gently strokes my cheekbone, then runs his fingers along my jaw. Without any visual cues, I’m surprised when he kisses me. His tongue slides into my welcoming mouth, and his hands roam my body. He tugs down one of the straps on my dress and moves his mouth there, tracing kisses along my collarbone. I lean back against the door and moan as he works me over.

I jut my hips out slightly and rub myself against him, and I’m momentarily confused when he pulls away. “Did I tell you that you could do that?” he asks.

“No, but⁠—”

“No, I didn’t. Second warning.”

“How many warnings do I get?” I bleat, sounding bratty even to my own ears. I’m off-balance here, and although my body is very much enjoying this, my mind is still unsure.

“As many as I choose to give you. Now, kick off those heels and remove your dress.”

I tremble at his commanding tone. He sounds like a complete stranger, and maybe that helps. With quivering hands, I pull the dress over my head and stand naked and blindfolded before him. I have no idea where he is or what he’s doing, and it’s unnerving. I shriek when I feel his hands on my ass and his breath on my neck.

“You’re shaking. Are you scared?”

“A little bit, yes. What are you going to do to me?”

“I’m not entirely sure yet.” He slides his hand between my thighs and probes me with one long finger. My legs automatically spread wider to let him in, and I lean back against him, gasping as he circles my clit with deft strokes. “You’re absolutely fucking soaked, Amber. You’re a dirty girl, aren’t you?”

“I am, yes. Please don’t stop.”

He wraps his other hand around my throat, and not seeing it coming makes it more thrilling. Then he gently squeezes, a mild restriction that drives me crazy. Everything feels heightened because of the blindfold, like all my other senses have gone into overdrive. Keeping his fingers around my throat, he kisses my neck, all the while keeping up the perfect level of pressure on my swollen clit. “Don’t come, Amber,” he whispers darkly.

“What?” I murmur, confused and hazy and too close to the edge to pull back.

“I said don’t come.”

He carries on stroking the sensitive bud between my legs, continues fucking me with his finger, doesn’t stop biting my neck and gently gripping my throat. It’s too much, and he must know that. “If you come, I’ll have to punish you.”

The raw growl, the promise wrapped up in a threat, is what pushes me over. He’s too skillful to resist, and this whole scenario is too hot for me to survive. My orgasm rips through me, tearing from my pussy to every single cell in my body. I throw my head back, my hands grasping, my pussy walls clenching around his fingers. He holds me steady and helps me wring every last drop of pleasure from that orgasm. But as soon as I’m done, I feel his breath on my ear. “I told you not to come, Amber. You disobeyed me again. No more warnings.”

I try to pull away as he leads me by the hand. “What’s happening? W-what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to punish you. You’ve been a naughty girl, and we all know that little brats need discipline, don’t we?”

“Oh god … B-but what if I don’t want to be punished?”

He tugs on my hand, and I slam into the solid wall of his chest. My hands fly up to his shoulders to steady myself. “If you don’t want me to, tell me to stop. Or you use a safe word. In your case, let’s use ‘princess,’ shall we?”

“No, I don’t like that safe word.”

I sound petulant, like a spoiled teenager, and I am amazed at how easily I slip into the game. “Well, you’ve just proven my point, Amber—princess it is.”

I stagger along, completely unable to see where I’m going, my bare feet sinking into the plush carpet. He keeps hold of my hand until he drops lower, and I assume he’s sitting on the edge of the bed. He pulls me toward him, and I feel his thighs on either side of me. My flailing hands find his head. He tugs me closer and wraps his arms around me. “I’m going to spank you now, Amber. Would you prefer to be on your knees or over my lap?” He squeezes my ass hard as he speaks, making me jump.

“I’d prefer neither,” I snap. “I’m not a child.”

“No.” One finger slides along my pussy. He flicks it over my sensitive clit, then pushes it inside me. “You’re really not. You’re all woman, but tonight, we are playing a game, and we’re playing by my rules. Now, on your knees or over my lap?”

I bite my lip. Fuck, I really don’t know. I’ve never done this before. “On my knees.”

“‘On my knees,’ what? Show a little respect.” He pulls his finger out of me with a wet sound.

“On my knees, sir. Please.”

“That’s better … But I could tell you didn’t mean it. I supposed that means we’ll do this my way.”

Before I know it, I’m lying across his lap, spread over his powerful thighs. My head falls to the bed, and I wriggle around, trying to escape. He keeps one big hand between my shoulders, holding me in place. “Just say the word. Princess.”

“Fuck you.”

“No, that’s not it, but don’t worry, I will most definitely be fucking you. Your ass, by the way, is incredible. You could base a whole religion on this ass. People would come from miles around to worship it.”

He runs his hands down my backside, gentle and reverent. He takes his time, and it’s sexy as hell. Without any warning, he slaps me so hard I squeal. The sound of his hand hitting my flesh makes a cracking noise, and he follows it up with another. It hurts, but I enjoy it far more than I thought I would. There’s something so liberating about him holding me here, his palm coming down on my skin, me yelping and writhing while he focuses on what he’s doing. I’m still blindfolded, but I can picture his face: the look of solemn concentration as he spanks me, pupils dilated, fire in his deep gray eyes.

He stops as suddenly as he started and smooths his hands across my sore flesh, tenderly rubbing away the sting. “Oh baby, you should see your ass now … bright red. I’m tempted to take a fucking picture.”

I think he’s finished and try to push myself up.

“Oh no, not yet. I think this fine specimen can take a little more, don’t you?”

Shit. It really is sore now. But I want to please him, and I want him to touch me more. And I need to see where this leads. “Yes,” I whisper.

“Yes, what? I didn’t hear you.”

“Yes please, sir,” I murmur, raising my backside slightly, my hands clutching the sheets beneath me.

“Good girl. You’re better behaved already.”

When the next slap comes, it’s on the back of my thighs, and I shout my surprise. He works his way back up to my backside and continues to deliver his stinging blows. By the time he finally finishes, tears are trickling from my eyes and I’m trembling.

Again, he rubs his hands softly over my skin, stroking and reassuring. “You look perfect like this. I know you’re sore, baby, but you’re so wet. I can feel you through my pants.”

My cheeks blaze, and I try to squirm away. I am clearly a pervert on top of everything else. “Don’t be ashamed,” he says, holding me still. “I’m sure you can tell how much I’m enjoying this too.”

I can. His cock is rock hard, pressing into my belly. He pulls me up into his arms, where he cradles me and kisses my forehead. I hiss as my ass makes contact with his legs, but it’s not intolerable. In fact, I kind of like it. He kisses my neck, making me purr, then lays me down flat on the bed. “Just stay there.”

I’m still wearing the blindfold, and although I could take it off myself at any moment, I don’t want to. The sense of anticipation is glorious, and I lie here, listening to him move around the room. I hear his belt unbuckle and slide out of its loops. The image is all too clear in my head: him standing next to the bed, his belt in his hands. It scares me, but the warm liquid seeping between my legs says I also like it.

He crawls along next to me, and I tremble as he runs the belt up my body. The buckle bumps over my nipples, and he continues upward to my face and holds it under my nose. It smells of leather and him, and I feel my pulse racing.

“You like this, baby, I can tell. You want to feel my belt on you, don’t you? You’re even dirtier than I thought. I’m not going to give that to you tonight. Your ass has taken enough, and when I use my belt on you, I want you to really fucking feel it. For now, we’ll use it for something else.”

He takes both my arms and raises them above my head. With one wrist crossed over the other, he ties them together with his belt. “How does that feel? Because it looks fucking sensational. You on those black sheets, your hair all wild. The blindfold, the belt … You’re like a wet dream come to life.”

Without my vision, all I can do is feel. His hands on my body, on my breasts. His mouth on my nipples. “Oh god, Elijah, it feels …”

“What, sweetheart?” He pulls away, leaving me desperate. “How does it feel?”

“It feels amazing. What … What are you going to do to me?”

“You keep asking that. You’ll have to wait and see.”

From the sounds I hear, I can only guess that he’s taking off the rest of his clothes. Then comes the familiar sound of ice and liquid clinking in a glass, and I try to picture what he’s doing. “Are you … Are you drinking a Scotch?”

“I am. An especially fine glass of Macallan. The perfect accompaniment to this fine view. Spread your legs for me.”

I don’t react immediately, and when he speaks again, his voice is dark and commanding. “Spread your legs. Now.” I do as I am told this time, and he growls as I reveal myself.

“Fuck. You’re so wet. So fucking needy. I could look at this all damn day. Stay exactly like that for me.”

The glass is set on a wooden surface. A drawer opens. Blindfolded, my arms tied above my head, I lie here with my most private parts on display like an exhibit in a gallery. My pussy weeps for him to touch me again.

When he does, it’s not what I expect. He takes my legs and spreads them wider. Then, with quick hands, he uses a length of silky fabric to tie my ankles to the wooden frame at the corners of the four-poster bed.

“Wh-what are you doing?” I splutter, raising my head with some difficulty.

“What do you think I’m doing? I’m tying you up to keep your legs nice and wide. Then I’m going to play with you and make you come. And then I’m going to fuck your brains out. Objections?”

Oh my god. This is really happening. He moves to my other leg, and I let my head fall back to the bed. My heart pounds. “Amber. Speak to me. If you want me to stop, you know what to say.”

I shake my head. “I don’t want you to stop.”

He slides his hands up my inner thighs, and I feel so ridiculously exposed. I’m completely at his mercy, and I love it. “That’s what I thought, my horny little slut. Look how wet you are. If I touched this pussy now, I think you’d come immediately. I think you’re almost there from being spanked and restrained. You’re desperate for me.”

“Yes, please—touch me.”

He laughs, and I’m flooded with disappointment when he removes his hands from my skin. I hear the sound of his glass again and feel the weight of him sinking into the mattress next to me. He runs his hand over my bound wrists, down my arms, around my throat. I almost jump out of my skin when he presses something freezing cold against one nipple, then the other.

“What is that?” I shriek. My nipples pucker.

“Ice from my Scotch. Nothing that will hurt you, so settle down.” He moves the ice cube around, making circular motions around my taut nipple. It’s painful and perfect, and he follows it up with his mouth, sucking the bud between his lips. The contrast between the cold of the ice and the warmth of his tongue is mind-blowing, and he clearly enjoys torturing me.

My breath comes in heavy pants as he works his way down my body, running the ice cube along my skin, leaving a chilled, watery trail behind him. He reaches my pussy, and I cry out as he slides the melting cube along my center.

“Oh! That’s so cold. It … Oh, god.” I shiver, cold water dripping inside my center and mixing with my own juices to flow down to the sheets under me.

“This is missing something,” he murmurs, climbing off the bed again. I feel liquid pouring over my pussy, warmer than the ice. A familiar scent reaches my nose. “Is that Scotch?” I ask. “Did you just pour fifty-year-old Macallan on my pussy?”

“Yeah. The perfect cocktail—Scotch, ice, and your cunt. And now I’m fucking thirsty.”

His mouth settles over my sensitive flesh, and his tongue starts to lap at me. He licks up all the liquid, then buries his face there, his nose running up and down my opening, his tongue going inside me to curl and play against my inner walls. He holds my hips steady, and I realize I’m bucking and writhing beneath him. My whole body is on fire. Being tied up, the ice, the heat … It’s all too much. He sucks my clit into his mouth and holds it there, lashing it with his tongue, driving me wild. He sucks harder, and I explode. The orgasm rockets through me, and I scream his name, my belt-tied hands thrashing against the bed, my eyes rolling in my head behind my blindfold. He works me some more, licking every drop of Scotch and cum from me, letting me shudder against his face. It feels like it lasts forever, and I am a wreck by the time he finally pulls away.

“Jesus fuck,” he says, and I picture him wiping his beard. “Best drink I ever tasted. And now I get to fuck you, baby.”

He slides his huge cock inside me and groans. “Christ. So fucking tight.” His hands land on either side of my head, and I turn to kiss his arm. I can’t move much, and I can’t see anything, but I can do that. “Does your husband fuck you like this?” He slams into me, fast and hard, his breathing speeding up as he chases his own release. He sure does now, I think, but I’m unable to form the words.

When he finally comes, he cries, “Fuck! Amber!” Then he falls down on top of me, laughs, and eventually rolls off to one side.

It’s not bright in here, only one lamp is lit, but I’ve been in darkness for so long that it takes a few moments to adjust after he takes the blindfold off. I’m lying in the biggest wet patch ever—water, Scotch, and cum from both of us—and my ass is still sore from my spanking, but I don’t think I’ve ever felt better.

He unbuckles the belt and kisses my wrists and then scoots down to do the same for my legs. Once I’m free, he rolls me into his arms, and I curl up into his chest. “That was … uh, different,” I say quietly.

“Yeah. And fucking fantastic. I can’t wait to use my belt on you.” I blush and bury my face against him. “What? Why are you embarrassed? If you want it and I want it, what’s the problem?”

“I don’t know—I feel a bit … surprised, I suppose. I know we’ve played a few of these games before, but not for a long time, and not this intensely. It’s a lot. I think I’m a little overwhelmed. Plus you got my pussy drunk and made me come so hard my brain has turned to mush.”

His laugh, deep and rich, makes me smile. And makes me feel like all will be well in the world. “Okay. Well, while your brain is mush, can we talk a little about Brooklyn? And Amber—do not start describing where Brooklyn is to me.”

“I think I need to, Elijah. Your knowledge of geography is abysmal.” I laugh when he pinches my side. “Okay, okay. What do you want to talk about? I don’t need your permission to move there—you do know that, right? I might follow orders in the bedroom, but you can’t control where I live.”

“I do know that, yeah. But I also have some concerns, and if you carry on being a brat about it, I might have to keep you tied up to a bed forever, so quit it with the smart mouth. You’re still my wife. I’m allowed to ask.”

I take a deep breath and remind myself to stay calm. He’s right. He is simply asking for a conversation.

“It’s a very nice place, Elijah. A real nice neighborhood, one where people look out for each other. I’ll be careful, and I’ll make sure I take precautions. I’m not streetwise, but I can learn. Plus, I’ll use Sanjay when I need to—hey, did you know he actually lives three streets away from Amelia’s?”

“I did not know that, and I’ve got to say it does make me feel better. Okay. Like you said, you don’t need my permission. I just … I need you to be safe.”

I wrap my arms around his waist, and he buries his hands in my hair. I have no clue what the hell we’re doing. The way we move between the most adventurous sex we’ve ever had and these intimate chats is so confusing.

“I know, Elijah,” I say, kissing his chest. “And I am, I promise you.”

At least I’m safe physically, I think as I close my eyes. The biggest danger to me right now is the way I feel about my own husband.