Brat and Master (7 page)

A few minutes later, she glanced at her e-mail. He might not even be awake. But there was a reply.

I’ll be there, but it’ll take me an hour. Leaving now. Wait for me.

Her heart sped up.
Wait for me.
Being given an order outside of the context of a BDSM scene ought to have pissed her off. Instead it turned her on. She’d not left him any other way to contact her than e-mail, and so he couldn’t go back and forth on the time with her if he wasn’t able to make it in forty-five minutes. It made a sort of sense.

Okay, Jeremy. I’ll wait.
She wheeled the bike out of her small apartment, down a flight of stairs, and out to the back of her Volkswagen Beetle. She hoped it didn’t choose today to break down; the check-engine light had been on for a while, and she didn’t have money to get anything fixed yet. In a few minutes she was on the road, driving to Legion Park.

She didn’t have to wait long, as it turned out. She was five minutes later than her forty-five estimate, and he was five minutes early on his hour. The long black sedan he stepped out of looked almost new. He was in blue jeans and a tight black T-shirt. The muscles of his upper arm stretched the sleeve. He didn’t have a bike carrier; instead he’d lashed the bike to the back bumper with rope.
Someone is secure about his knots.
The thought made her shiver.
I was going to train a newbie dom to suit my needs. I should run, now.

Instead, she hopped on her bike and met him in the parking lot while he was still untying his bike. “Hi.”

“Hello, Amanda,” he said. “Good to see you again.”

“You too.” Some guys would have used the greeting as a chance to connect, to hug and maybe even to get a kiss or cop a feel. Not Jeremy, apparently, who was busy untying the knots that held his bike fast. She was vaguely disappointed.

Then he turned to her and stroked the side of her face. It was somehow more intimate than if he’d pulled her in for a hug, because it was so unexpected and deliberate. He seemed so intense. All she could do was stare at him, not breathing, while her heart hammered.

“Very nice to see you again,” he said.

“Yes.” She breathed.

“I have to warn you.”

“Yes?”

“I’m horribly out of practice.”

“You’re remembering fine, Sir. That spanking was wonderful. Your touch—electric.” Her nipples had tightened into two little points as if connected on wires to where he touched her.

“I meant biking. Haven’t done it in ages.” He strapped on a green helmet.

“Oh!”
Right, that’s what we’re here to do.
The moment passed, and she felt able to move again. Hell, she felt like fleeing from the intensity of his touch and gaze. Every touch and every look had the full force of his personality behind them. He seemed so much more focused than most people. “Well, you’ll get it. You’re fit. And it’s like, um, like…”

“Like riding a bicycle?” he asked, his face unreadable.

”Exactly like that,” she agreed.

He laughed, and she laughed.

“My tires are inflated. I still had my pump. Let’s go. The worst that can happen is that I embarrass myself in front of a beautiful woman.”

Amanda blushed and then looked around. “Where is she?”

“You’ll find her,” he said. “Do you always shy away from compliments?”

“Sir?”

He didn’t answer, and she didn’t need him to because she knew what he meant. She wasn’t sure why she did that.
Maybe I don’t think people are being sincere.
Either way, she didn’t want to deal with it. She turned her bike and pedaled toward the path.
Let him chase after me.

JEREMY WATCHED AMANDA zoom off. The little sub was playing games, first by asking him to meet her in forty-five minutes, then by riding away. On the other hand, she was definitely interested, and interesting. The way she reacted to being called beautiful when he thought it was simply the honest truth indicated to him that she wasn’t as comfortable with herself as he’d first thought. It brought out the side of him that wanted to nurture a woman.

There was no time to spend thinking about it. He mounted his bike and started pedaling, wobbling through the parking lot. Amanda headed to a path that wound into the trees. Even though the trees were mostly bare, she’d be out of sight if he delayed, and that would limit his options.

Why am I here? This isn’t BDSM play. This is a date. And it’s a date where we can’t even talk.

Amanda was getting farther away with every second. He leaned in and focused on the road, pedaling faster, shifting gears to try to find the right one. The pedaling was instinctive, but the shifting was not, and he wasted a lot of energy while his quarry glided effortlessly forward. He saw her glance over her shoulder and grin.

He never could resist a challenge. He shifted up, leaned forward, and pedaled harder.

Slowly, he closed the gap. She looked over her shoulder again and sped up. His legs were aching. He was used to walking and working out, but this put strain on a different set of muscles. He still wasn’t going to lose. He kept closing until at last he pulled up even with her.

“Nice day,” she said brightly.

“Nice day,” he agreed through gritted teeth. As he pulled slightly ahead, he noticed she had pulled the zipper of her hot-pink top down, displaying a generous amount of cleavage, which was shining with sweat. She might sound cheery, but she’d had to put her back into it too. He grinned.
Not a bad view, either.

She locked eyes with him for a moment and then turned away to look at the path ahead. There were trees all around them, and even though they were bare of leaves, he couldn’t see anything but nature. He let her pass, then followed her through the woods, feeling he could relax some. The cool wind whipped past his face.

“Having fun?” she shouted back at him.

He discovered he was. “Yes!”

She got up in the stirrups and shook her ass at him, and then sped up. He did the same. He knew now that he could keep up with her, no matter what she did. He’d had to get into practice and reacquaint himself with the equipment.
It’s a lot like BDSM that way. I need to trust my instincts.

And his instincts told him that Amanda was worth chasing after—both literally and figuratively. She was so totally different from Cheri, who for so long had been the epitome of what he wanted. Cheri had never needed to be chased. She had simply wanted to be told she was pleasing, and other than that, she strove to be as submissive as she possibly could. She wasn’t bratty and had no interest in trying to top. It had been very simple with Cheri, and she would never be replaced in his heart. He wasn’t sure as a top he could put up with a steady diet of Amanda, but he was interested in finding out. She still gave him toppish pleasure—and the brat in her made his heart race.

I can’t continue with what I had. Cheri is gone. She can’t be replaced. But I can start all over.

A dirt path deviated from the asphalt, and Amanda spun her bike onto it. Amanda’s bike was a racing bike, made for the street, so her decision surprised him. He had a hybrid, with wider tires, designed to be equally adept at both pavement and rougher surfaces. He chuckled. Definitely not like Cheri. Even if he’d let her ride in front, Cheri would have been asking him for directions.

The ground, though, was hard and not too difficult. It hadn’t rained in days. Amanda was able to keep her bike going smoothly through twists and turns and over a few roots. She seemed to know what she was doing, whereas Jeremy knew he was getting by on sheer muscle power.

Suddenly, the path ended in patch of grass. Amanda turned her bike sharply sideways and brought it to a halt. She kicked down the kickstand. Jeremy slammed on the brakes, remembering in the nick of time that it was important to apply the rear brakes first, so as to avoid being thrown forward. He managed not to hit her as she dismounted.

She grinned at him. “You really are rusty, aren’t you?”

“I did tell you.”

“You did. But I thought you might be feigning inexperience. Like last time.” She took off her helmet, revealing her loose brown hair.

He dismounted. “No, not this time.”

“Why did you last night?”

“Well, it’s been a while. I suppose I wanted to start over. Look at it all with fresh eyes. I don’t know how to continue from what I had before.”

“With your wife.”

“Yes.”

She walked toward him until she was standing kissably close. “You loved her.”

“Yes.” He met her gaze. He didn’t want to talk about Cheri. He was tempted to cut her off. She couldn’t be enjoying talking about another woman, either.

“I’m very good at role-playing, Jeremy. Schoolgirl, expensive hooker, nurse, maid, waitress—I can be anything you want. But of course, I can’t be her.”

“She’s irreplaceable. What if what I want is for you to be Amanda?”

“Oh, everyone gets tired of that pretty quick,” she said.

Ouch. Did she really believe that? He didn’t want to think of what experiences had driven her to
that
conclusion. He reached out and stroked her cheek. He knew why she had pulled off on the side path now. She was looking for some privacy. A chance to talk, perhaps. Maybe more. It wasn’t secure enough for sex, and it was too cold to go undressed anyway. He put his arm around her and pulled her close. They’d share what warmth they had. “I think Amanda is interesting.”

“I think you’re mistaken.”

He swatted her, almost without thinking about it. She yelped, even though her bike shorts gave her plenty of padding.

“What was that for?”

“Let’s try again. You’re interesting, Amanda.”

He watched her eyes as the gears turned in her head. Then, slowly, deliberately, she said, “I think you’re mistaken, Sir.” She tilted her chin up, mischief playing in her eyes.

If Cheri had pulled that stunt, he would have walked away and come back to spank her later. But then, Cheri never would. Amanda was totally different.

He pulled her to the side, while wrapping his other arm around her waist to hold her in place, with the result that she ended up bent over. Then he spanked her, hard. He had to resist the urge to pull her pants down so that she would feel his hand better, but he didn’t know the likelihood of another cyclist coming down the same path for a break in the clearing. Some risks needed to be negotiated.

“Is that all you got?” she asked, looking over her shoulder with a grin.

Clothed and in the woods, there was a limit to what he could do to her. Especially with those damn padded shorts. For a moment, he was stymied. “Not a good safe word,” he remarked.

“No.”

“You think you’re safe, don’t you?”

“Yes. Kind of hoping I’m wrong, though. For some definitions of safe, anyway.”

He slipped his hand down her legs and wiggled his fingers ever so lightly on the back of her knee. She jumped as if he’d used a cattle prod.

“No,” she said.

“Also not a safe word. I’d recognize red, though.” He paused, giving her a chance to say it. She didn’t. He tickled her again, this time getting his other hand into the action, his arm wrapped around her to restrict her movement while he feathered his fingers over her ribs and the back of her leg.

She shrieked and tried to grab his arm. She wasn’t strong enough to budge it. She slipped out of his grasp, though, and made it to the ground. He fell on top of her, pinning her, his hands exploring the sides of her breasts and her armpits. He was rewarded with gasping exclamations as loud as any she made at Excess.

She punched his chest. He ignored it. She tried to writhe away, but she was trapped. She tossed an elbow in the direction of his face, and he had to dodge. Still she didn’t safe word.

She panted and squirmed underneath him. His cock hardened, and he knew she could feel it. He explored which points were the most ticklish. The best was the most convenient—right below her ribs, on her side. He didn’t know about her feet, and he had no desire to get kicked. Tickling was dangerous unless the victim was tied down, and he was well aware he had only himself to blame if he got injured.

He decided she’d had enough. The scene hadn’t exactly been negotiated, although he’d given her an out. He let her catch her breath, knowing she didn’t know whether or not he was pausing or was done. “Still think I can’t find a way to get to you, Amanda, just because you’re wearing padded shorts?”

“Um. No, Sir.” She shook her head vigorously. “No, Sir.”

“Good girl.” He leaned over, stretching his body against hers, and kissed her hard. Her lips parted for him, and her nostrils flared as she kept trying to catch her breath. It felt good to be in charge again. He plundered her mouth with his tongue, feeling her chest heaving under his. She wrapped her arms around him.

He rolled over, pulling her along, knowing he would be able to take her weight more easily than the reverse. She grinned when their lips parted, and gulped in air. He slipped a hand into her shirt where the zipper had parted it oh so nicely, enjoying the feel of her breast in his hand—exactly a handful for his long fingers. Her sigh was his reward.

Amanda dipped her head to kiss again. His heart leaped at the simplicity of it, and he drank in her kiss as if it were fine wine. It went to his head the same way. He hadn’t expected to end up making out like a high schooler when he’d decided to go to Excess, nor had he wanted to. But it was the only way to connect in the middle of the woods, where anyone might come by.

Amanda tried to pull him back over and laughed when he wouldn’t move. He laughed back and rolled on top of her, pressing her on the ground with his body between her legs. He caught her wrists and held them down, then ground against her, his hard cock pressing against her pussy. There was way too much padding between them. It didn’t stop her from matching his movements and pushing her crotch back against his hard-on. He could feel her heart beating against his chest.

He heard footsteps crackling the small branches on the path. Reluctantly, he rolled off Amanda. She looked at him oddly before she heard it too. She glanced over. A jacketed shape and a dog were making their way down the path. She sat up, zipped her top, and whispered, “Good catch,” to Jeremy.