The Switch (9 page)

“Up on all fours,” she instructed, sliding
her long legs under him, almost perpendicular to his torso. Soft,
thick terry cloth brushed against his thighs as she scooted
down.

He didn’t understand, but he didn’t need to;
she’d do with him whatever she wanted, even picking him apart at
the seams, and he’d take it like the swift addict he’d already
become.

Something foreign nudged briefly at his
rectum before easing in. It was barely the girth of her two
fingers, but even covered in latex, the texture was enough to make
his head spin. She made good on her word, immediately adopting a
steady pace at both ends.

Locking his elbows to keep himself up,
Grayson let his head fall between his shoulders, giving himself
over to the white noise of sheer rapture. What the fuck was she
doing to him? His cock was slick with his own fluids now as that
knobbed, ridged
thing
methodically worked over his prostate.
God, it felt like she was fucking the inside of his dick with it,
while her hand squeezed and polished the outside.

“I - I can’t —” he gasped, his climax
barreling at him now in massive, ongoing wave.

“Come then, pet,” Marion whispered. “Come
on.”

Slumber melted away into the hot, wet pull of heaven on his cock. A
groan of pleasure dragged from him as a muffled moan vibrated
deliciously around his shaft, its owner drawing him in deeper. His
tip nudged the back of her throat before another long, slow suck
made him sigh in bliss.

Still in a lazy state of half-sleep, Grayson
smiled and reached out to thread his fingers into those dark, silky
tresses tickling his thighs. His eyes flew open, however, when he
found he couldn’t, his wrists locked in place against the ornate
detailing of a wrought-iron bedframe.

“…the fuck?” he mumbled, jerking against his
restraints. He looked down as she released his cock with a wet
smack. The sight of those unmistakable bangs across her brow, the
playful twinkle in her green eyes, and that dark, slightly puffy
smirk brought the evening back into focus. “Mar--,” Grayson
began.

“Shh…” Marion cut him off. She slid to the
side, reaching for something he couldn’t see, and he realized it
was still dark. How long had he dozed, he wondered? Before he could
ask, she was back, crawling over him on all fours with a wicked
smile. “Surely you didn’t think we were finished here, Jones?”

His cock twitched and his pulse fluttered as
she straddled him. She still wore the corset, but nothing else. The
stockings he’d been so careful to avoid snagging earlier were now
neatly rolled up and shoved into his mouth before he could think to
protest.

“Now that you’ve rested a bit,” she began
huskily, “think it’s time to take my fill, yeah?”

Oh, fuck yes.

Grayson grunted as she slid back down his
body. His ass cheeks stung slightly with the movement, and he
wondered how long the effect of her lashing would last. He hoped
forever. God,
that
was something he’d never expected -
spankings had never been his thing. But then again, neither had
sucking a silicon dildo or…

His ass muscles clenched briefly, sending a
deliciously sore memory through his cock.

“Oh, yeah,” Marion sighed as she settled her
moist heat over his hard-on, teasing it by rubbing back and forth.
“I’ve been waiting for you, you know.” She ran her tongue across
her lower lip with a sinful grin. “Can you feel how hot and wet I
am for you, Jones?”

He bucked his hips against her in answer,
his cock pushing between her folds just enough to feel her
slickness before she gave his thigh a sharp, stinging slap with
that damned riding crop. He yelped against the wad of silk in his
mouth and glared at her.

Glaring back, she leaned over him, digging
her painted nails into his chest. “You’ll not move a muscle,
understand? Or I’ll have to punish you in ways that aren’t so
pleasant,” she said in a sweetly threatening tone.

One day ago – hell, probably only a few
hours ago – he would have laughed and dared her to bring it. But
this Marion was a different creature entirely. He wouldn’t say he
feared her, at least, not in a bad way. ‘Apprehension,’
however…

As if reading his thoughts, she clasped his
chin and forced him to look into those cool, green eyes. In a
deadly whisper, she added, “And if you come, I’ll make certain
everyone knows how Grayson the Great whimpered and begged for more
while I violated his perfect male ass with the handle of my riding
crop. Am I clear?”

His stomach dropped in a panic.
Oh, Gray.
You stupid, stupid, fucking idiot.
He jerked fruitlessly
against his restraints, knowing that even if he broke loose, Marion
would always have this on him.

“Grayson.” It wasn’t quite a warning. When
he looked into her eyes again, he found a spark of that familiar,
reassuring warmth there. “Do you need your safe word?”

With a hard swallow, he shook his head.

“Good boy,” she murmured, smirking as she
repositioned herself over his dick. A gasp escaped her lips as she
slid his erection along her folds before easing down.

Every muscle in Grayson’s body tensed with
the effort to stay still. It was almost too much - Marion going
Domme on him like she’d read his mind and dug out his deepest,
darkest fantasies; the sensitive patches of skin on his thighs and
bottom; the slight ache in his ass reminding him of how he’d
spilled himself over her fingers as she worked that soft,
leather-encased rod against his prostate. And now…

God
, she felt so fucking good around
him. And she looked like a filthy wet dream with that corset
pushing her tits up while the rest of her body was bare. Grayson
let out of muffled snarl and thrashed his head to the side, trying
to focus on simply not moving the rest of his body.

“Oh, fuck, Jones,” Marion groaned, rolling
her hips forward and back. She let out a shaky sigh. “Not gonna
take much. Been wanting this all bloody night.”

It didn’t, either. In a manner of minutes,
she was crying out, her cheeks flushed and her muscles clamping
almost painfully around his dick. A fine layer of sweat broke out
across his body. He felt feverish with the effort to keep still
while she used him for her own satisfaction. His eyes rolled back
and squeezed shut, a pathetic whimper escaping him as she slid off
his tortured cock. The cool air hitting the moisture that coated
him made him gasp.

His attention was drawn back as Marion
pulled the gag from his mouth. Her eyes were bright and wild, and
he knew then that she was far from done.

“Please,” he rasped desperately. The word
was almost foreign to him; he wasn’t the begging type, ever. But he
couldn’t bear much more.

“Shh, love,” Marion cooed, pressing her
thumb to his lips. “Didn’t free that talented mouth for you to
speak just yet, now.”

When she kissed him, it was hard and
demanding, and he found himself giving all he could in a silent
plea of lips and tongue. Pleading for what, he didn’t know. It
wasn’t just release he needed anymore. He wanted to touch her,
please her – certainly. But he also needed to regain control, to
torment her the way she had him, to hear her beg, plead, and
finally cry out her release at
his
command.

Despite the heady rush Grayson had felt in
truly and completely submitting to her – to anyone – for the first
time, the need to take back the upper hand was stalking his mental
perimeter. Not only for his own sake, but to give this to her in
return. It was clear she knew what she was doing as his Domme, but
had she ever tasted the other side? As much as he wanted to command
her, he wanted her to feel this as well.

With a nip to his bottom lip, Marion pulled
away, flashing him a mischievous grin. The mattress jostled and
bounced him as she got to her feet and situated herself over his
shoulders. He gazed up at her as she raked her fingers through his
hair, her nails scratching his scalp gently. Her grinned softened
into a sultry curve and she tilted her head to look down at him,
those long, ebony waves forming a curtain around her face.

“Want a taste?” she teased lewdly,
undulating her hips toward him.

Grayson bit back a smart-assed reply.
Whether intended or not, she’d just offered him his golden
opportunity to turn the tables. He dipped his head slightly,
brushing his lips across the neatly trimmed thatch of hair hovering
over his chin. “Yes, please,” he muttered before planting a
worshipful kiss against her mound.

Air hissed through her teeth on a sharp
inhale. Pressing more firmly to those damp folds, Grayson’s senses
were flooded with female sex; that moist heat between her thighs,
the wonderfully familiar tang filling his nostrils and teasing his
tongue. A tiny sigh escaped her as she moved against him. His
nerves, already taut and frayed with his own need, suddenly jolted
with searing heat as he darted his tongue out, sliding between
those honeyed lips with a groan. His hands clenched impotently as
he fought the urge to jerk against his restraints once more.
Instead, he delved deeper, grinning against her wetness before
beginning a slow, torturous assault with his mouth.

Threading her fingers through his and
bracing herself against his hands and the bedframe, Marion hunched
over Grayson. Her thighs tensed around his face as she ground
herself against his mouth.

“Oh, god, Gray,” she panted raggedly. Her
movements became frantic, her nails digging painfully into his
knuckles. “That’s it… c’mon…”

Rather than heeding her encouragements to
push her over that edge, Grayson slowed his movements. Dragging his
tongue in a deliberate path from her entrance to her clit and back
again, he kept just out of reach of Marion’s satisfaction.

“Damn it, Jones.” She gave a frustrated
grunt as she tried to push harder against him.

He chuckled, dodging out of the way, and
nipped the tender flesh of her mons before teasing again with a
quick swipe that made her cry out. He wouldn’t ask, wouldn’t voice
his desire out loud. Instead, he tightly laced his fingers over
hers so she couldn’t break free, giving a pointed a squeeze in
reply.

Let me loose. Let me touch you.

“Make me come,” she demanded, but the
undercurrent of desperation in her voice betrayed her position.

Grayson responded by nuzzling his face into
her sex, finding that elusive button of flesh and wrapping his lips
around it in a show of good faith.

“Oh, yes,” Marion moaned.

Her reaction was premature; he simply held
her there, applying enough suction to that sensitive point of
nerves to keep her teetering on the edge. They dangled in stalemate
for what felt like minutes, though it was likely seconds. Again, he
gave her hands a squeeze, harder this time.

“
Okay
.”

With that one whispered resignation, Grayson
swore his heart stopped. Then, as if someone had injected the
finest drug into his system, a rush of anticipation and power swept
through his being. The tables had turned, and bless her little
heart, she probably didn’t even realize it.

As
soon as he released her fingers, she unclasped the leather cuffs.
“Now,” she gritted out, but was interrupted by Grayson’s quick
fingers and quicker mind. What seemed one moment to be a greedy,
frantic embrace quickly turned into a victorious overthrow. The
leather cuffs snicked around her slender wrists before she had a
chance to register what was happening. It wasn’t until he’d slid
out from under her that she seemed to realize what he’d done. By
then, he was already securing her ankles to the cuffs dangling from
the posts at the foot of the bed.

It was hardly fair, he knew. He’d tricked
her into thinking he was all subby and docile, using the element of
surprise to get the better of her. But then, when had he ever
played fair?

He also knew he was taking a risk, gambling
that she wouldn’t simply want to kill him outright for this. Or
worse, laugh in his face before blabbing his secrets to everyone
they knew. Then again, they both held each other’s secrets now,
didn’t they?

“Grayson Alexander Jones,” Marion said in a
strangled voice, “what the fuck do you think—”

She was cut off by the sharp crack of flesh
on flesh, letting out a startled yelp as Grayson’s hand came down
across one exposed ass cheek. A smile of admiration tugged at the
corners of his mouth as the dusky, smooth flesh blushed darker at
the contact point. He ran his hand over the curve of her hip and
around the back of her thigh, a pleased rumble escaping his throat
as she moved ever so slightly into his touch.

“You will speak only when I say you may,
Marion.” He made his voice hard and cool, even as his fingers paid
a loving caress to that heated juncture between her legs.
“Understand?” he added, giving a sharp pinch to one of her outer
lips.

A sharp gasp and a fruitless wriggle were
her response. “I – I don’t know what you--,” she began.

Another crack on her ass elicited a squeak.
“Yes. Understood.”

He smirked. There would be no ‘Master’ from
her lips, he knew, and that was fine. Titles and formalities meant
little to him, even in the bedroom. What he wanted were actions,
not words.

“Your safeword,” he said thoughtfully,
glancing around the dim bedroom. His eyes landed on a familiar
glass sphere – a gift he’d brought her from his trip to Boston,
when he’d been considering colleges. “Is snowglobe,” he finished.
“Can you remember that?”

She nodded mutely in reply, but didn’t
actually utter the word. Something in Grayson’s chest went warm at
this unspoken consent. He hadn’t been sure, after all. And now that
he had his answer- good god. She truly was his dream woman.

Best birthday gift, ever.