"Who was that I saw you talking to just now?" came the low rumble from beside me.
Someone wasn't very happy with me. I did my best to ignore the full body shiver that tone always induced in me - memories of other times he'd deliberately used it flooding my senses and leaving me breathless even though he had yet to touch me. "Alexander Skarsgard - I just told him how much I enjoyed him in True Blood. He's even taller than you are - I don't think I'd realized that." My eyes lingered on the other man, caught by his long, lean Nordic good looks. He was even better looking in person than he was on television, if that was even possible.
His low, feral growl had my nipples peaking painfully, and as I was braless they immediately came in contact with the somewhat scratchy lace of my little black dress which only made their throbbing ache much worse.
At the same time, Tom caught a hand in each of his and stepped in front of me, blocking my view of the man he obviously considered his competition - however ridiculous that was - giving me a look that had me wanting to reclaim my hands and take a step back from him, knowing what was in store for me, but there was no way he was going to allow that.
He used his hold on my hands to keep me still as he took a careful, calculated step forward, assuming his usual wide legged stance which gave me no choice but to stand between them, my belly prodded constantly by his blatant desire, literally surrounded by the intoxicating smell and heat of him, my body swelling and moistening in response no matter how I tried not to - that was entirely out of my control like the majority of my intimate life since I'd met him. He was an Alpha through and through and the bedroom was no exception.
"And what was the only rule I gave you for this evening, my lady?" His use of that old fashioned endearment served as a delicious counterpoint to the way his hands left mine to slide surely around my hips, fingertips gripping me possessively as he boldly cupped my bottom, forcing my lower body even more tightly against him.
I whimpered softly - a mewl that had him flashing me that evil, self-satisfied Loki smile of his - but knew better than to ignore his question. Biting my lip, knowing I was already in trouble, I answered softly, my eyes on the third button of his shirt. "To stay by your side, Sir."
A long finger came out to tilt my chin up so that I had to meet those stunning eyes of his that were made even more unbelievably sexy by the fact that they were narrowed, his brow furrowed as he concentrated every iota of his considerable attention on me. "And if you had asked me to go and talk to him, what would I have said?"
My bottom lip was going to be swollen by the end of the night if one of us didn't stop nibbling on it. My eyes darted away from his, not wanting to acknowledge my error.
My lover was an infinitely patient man in most situations who enjoyed nothing more than to take an entire afternoon and spend it with his mouth on my pussy, wringing soul shattering orgasm after orgasm from me, but when it came to my obedience to him, he had a very short supply of it.
"Heather." One word, rife with warning. Tom never got angry even if I misbehaved. He never yelled. He didn't need to when he could say something deceptively soft but intimately scolding like that, saving his considerable energy for more pleasurable - and some not so pleasurable for one of us - pursuits.
My eyes snapped back to his, melting into them as surely as my insides were melting into my panties. "You would have said yes, Sir."
Soft fingertips caressed my cheek in a manner so touching and tender that it brought tears to my eyes. "That's right. I would have. You know I love you and therefore I can deny you very little," his voice hardened a bit, "even if I would prefer you didn't let him even so much as lay eyes on you, I need you to be happy and I would have acquiesced if you had but asked." He bent over to put his mouth to my ear, pressing me even more tightly to him. "But you didn't bother to ask me, now, did you?"
"No, Sir," I whispered back, already dejected at having disappointed him, to say nothing of not looking forward to the way he was going to singe my behind once we got home - if he waited that long. I had been spanked - and then fucked, almost always the one following the other - in the back of so many limos that I'd almost come to expect it.
"And what does that mean you need to go and do now?" he asked, pressing an impossibly tender kiss to my lips then leaning back a bit to notice with a small frown how my lip had been worried. He noticed everything about me all the time - even the most minute changes never made it past his loving, watchful gaze.
"I have to go to the ladies room and . . . " Even after all this time, I still blushed just as brightly now as I had when we had first become intimate, and he loved it, often deliberately saying or doing things to me that he knew were going to make me blush uncontrollably.
Control was definitely a trigger for him, and luckily one that I adored, too.
I drew a breath, knowing he expected me to answer him in what he - definitely not I - deemed was a reasonable amount of time. "I have to go take off my panties and bring them to you - in case you want to spank me in the car."
He drew a finger down my cheek, his eyes softening just the slightest bit. "Perfect, love. Off you go now."
I did exactly as I was told as quickly as possible, knowing he didn't like being kept waiting in any situation, but especially one like this.
When I returned, I assumed exactly the same position I had been in before I left, tucking the small black lace bundle into his hand as surreptitiously as possible, but he destroyed my efforts by immediately bringing it to his lips as if it was a napkin and he was blotting something off them. But I knew that wasn't what he was doing. My eyes helplessly locked with his as I saw him draw in a deep breath that had to be full of my essence, his eyes closing slowly and remaining closed as long as he held his breath, as if he was savoring a particularly potent drug.
To my horror, once he was done breathing me in, he made a show of shaking them out and folding them neatly, putting them into the right front pocket of his pants - where his keys and money clip dwelt - so that he would have reason to touch them again and make me worry that they'd fall out when he was tipping the driver or something equally mortifying.
"They're wonderfully damp, Heather love. Why would that be, do you think?"
On a soft groan I replied, "Because of you, Sir."
"Not Skarsgard?" he grumbled, turning us to head for the door. We'd only been at the party less than a half an hour, but he had other things on his mind now that took precedence.
I was hoping he was kidding, but I answered him with complete honesty. "Hell, no," and watched a smile spread across his face at both my words and my tone of voice, which I hoped left him absolutely no doubt that neither Skarsgard nor any other man would ever be in competition with him for my affections.
He had all of me - inside and out - from the top of my head to the tips of my toes, I was his, and I had never once regretted my decision to become his.
He tipped the valet to recall the limo and out came my panties along with his money before he stuffed it all back into his pocket. My cheeks were so hot I thought they were going to set fire to the wispy tendrils of my hair that surrounded them.
Everyone he gave money to tonight was going to get bills that smelled like me.
Tom helped me into the limo then climbed in behind me. I had done what I always did when I knew I was in trouble and scooted as far across the seat as I could without going out the other door - which, if I hadn't known that he - with those atrociously long legs of his - wouldn't have hesitated in the least to chase me down and carry bodily back to the car I would have bolted out of in a heartbeat.
He knew what I was doing, of course and didn't say a word to me. In fact he wasn't even looking at me but out the window instead. What he did do was simply lay his hand down on the seat right next to him, palm up.
That strong right hand of his, with its long, ingenious and infernal fingers, was part invitation, part promise, and part threat.
I stared at it for a moment, knowing full well what he expected of me, inwardly fighting against myself - and him - although I knew the cause was already lost and I was going to pay for this, too - having hesitated in the least, much less this long.
"Tom," I began, in the hopes of accomplishing I don't know what - a reprieve, maybe? But unless I claimed I was sick there would be none coming, and I couldn't lie to Tom - physically couldn't do it and he knew that. I corrected myself too late. "Sir -"
The words I was going to say died in my throat as he turned to lock eyes with me, his hand still between us expectantly. As he opened his mouth, I rose quickly and placed my nakedness on top of it, making sure that the skirt of the dress didn't impede his access to me at all, my eyes closing on a tortured sigh as his fingers busied themselves immediately, laying claim to my most intimate parts. He didn't fondle me at all - yet - but simply insinuated all of his fingers between my outer folds, covering me completely, the pads of his fingers resting gingerly over my burgeoning clit.
"You're pushing your luck tonight, darling," he warned softly. "You'd better be ready to pay the piper when we get home."
Well, at least he wasn't going to take me over his lap in the limo. Instead I had a twenty minute ride ahead of me with his fingers eagerly exploring me, with the sure knowledge that I was not allowed to cum regardless of what he did to me or what I got when we got home would instantly become twice as bad as it was already going to be.
"Love, come closer."
I obeyed immediately - which was unlike me, frankly - plastering myself against his side. As much as I adored submitting to him, I had my own control issues, and I often . . . declined to comply with his edicts, especially if I found them to be specious, which, granted, was rare. Even that never angered him - instead, he never failed to rise to the challenge of taming me - and he had a perfect record at getting me to comply with his wishes - one way or the other.
"Very good," he murmured against the hair at the top of my head. His free hand cupped my jaw delicately - in direct contrast to the roughness with which his fingers were thrusting themselves inside me. "Kiss me. Kiss me like you're hoping it'll convince me to be lenient with you once I have you on our bed, naked, on your tummy over my lap about a half an hour from now."
I knew exactly what he wanted because I wanted it, too. I slanted my mouth over his, closed at first, teasing and tasting lips I was still exploring curiously, hungrily even two years after we'd gotten together. I let the tip of my tongue trace his lips slowly, drawing a moan from him that excited me to no end. I was the louder of the two of us when we made love. He was much more restrained - at least until the end - so I treasured every sigh or moan I could get out of him.
My tongue delved eagerly into his mouth, enticing his to come play, running it over the very edges of his teeth as he met me thrust for eager thrust until I trapped the tip of his tongue between my teeth playfully, which had him growling from deep within his chest.
"You are feeling feisty tonight, Miss Heather, aren't you?"
I was feeling empty and achy and frustrated and not a little nervous about what was to come and that made me bold. "Yes, Sir."
He moved his hand so that there were three fingers buried deep within me, fucking me in powerful pulses while his thumb sought and found the part of me I most wanted him to pay attention to, making me nearly jump up and gasp at the same time, seconds later having to force myself to settle back down onto those coned fingers and that teasingly neutral thumb of his. Once he'd discovered my button, though, he simply rested there, not moving at all, which was almost worse.
I was already having pre-contractions - little ecstatic pulses that signaled that I was very close to cumming - and now the anguished pleasure he was creating within me compounded exponentially as his other hand cupped my breast, fingers and thumb pinching nipples that had been erect for an embarrassingly long time by then, the pressure from his fingers pressing the rough lace into that tender flesh, adding another dimension to the sensual torture he was inflicting on me.
And yet I knew I was not allowed to let myself explode, despite any provocations he might come up with.
It was going to be a long, long ride home.