Little Red Riding Crop
Page 2

“Ma cherie...I do not know what to do with you.”
Even worse than being handsome, he had that f**king French accent she had to put up with.
“Do with me? I didn’t do anything other than my job. Not my fault the maid overheard the ambassador screaming like a banshee.”
“You broke the skin.”
Nora shook her head and looked out the back window. Behind them she saw an SUV with a nice, normal-looking husband at the wheel and a perfectly plain wife pointing out something from the passenger seat. Their two-point-five kids probably sat in the backseat with little baggies of Cheerios and their crayons. Normal people, Nora told herself. Normal people did not have these kinds of conversations with their bosses.
She was so glad she wasn’t normal people.
“He tips better when you make him bleed.”
“You went too far tonight,” Kingsley said, crossing one long leg over the other. “I want to know why.”
With reluctance Nora turned her eyes back to his.
“I’ve just been...stressed. Guess I took it out on His Ambassadorness.”
Kingsley reached out and rested his hand on her knee right where the top of her boot met her thigh. The feel of his fingers on her skin caused her to take a quick breath, a quick breath that Kingsley clearly heard.
“Stressed, ma cherie? Or frustrated?” He let his hand trail an inch higher up her leg.
“Frustrated,” she confessed. “I work all the time, King. I don’t have any time for...myself.”
Nora’s stomach tightened as Kingsley’s low sensual laugh filled the back of the car.
“How old are you?” Kingsley asked.
“You know how old I am.”
“Answer me.”
Nora exhaled noisily.
“Thirty-one.”
“Thirty-one years old...and the most beautiful woman in New York. There’s no reason you should be sleeping alone.”
“Other than the fact that a certain someone works me constantly so I can’t get a single day off.”
In a good week Nora could make ten to fifteen thousand dollars off her rich and kinky clients. In two years Kingsley had turned her into the most in-demand Dominatrix in America. Some clients flew in from across the country or even in from other countries for a few hours of her time. With Kingsley getting fifteen percent of every penny she made, he kept her dance card as full as possible. And she was starting to get sick of it.
“You exag-”
“I haven’t had sex with someone other than myself in two months.”
Kingsley’s eyes widened in shock. If Kingsley went even two days without sex...no, pointless train of thought. Kingsley would never go two days without sex.
“Two months? Quelle horreur, ma cherie. Surely there’s something I can do to make it up to you...”
“A day off would do. Or two. Or...”
“Or...?”
Kingsley brought his other hand between her knees and eased her thighs apart.
“King...” Nora said in a warning tone, a warning Kingsley didn’t heed. He brought his mouth down and kissed her bare thigh. Slowly he pushed her skirt higher with his mouth.
“I’m at your service, Maîtresse,” he whispered against her skin.
Nora groaned at the back of her throat. Damn that man. All of New York’s Underground considered Kingsley Edge their King of Kink. Sexy accent, handsome face, beautiful body, mysterious past...he was born to be the perfect Dominant and would have been but for one small thing—secretly he was a Switch.
Just like her.
“Your orders, Maîtresse?”
“Just keep doing that. I’ll think of some orders in a minute or two.”
He slipped her panties down her legs and Nora’s thighs fell open.
“You don’t let me do this with any of my clients,” Nora reminded him as he parted her folds with his fingertips. He kissed her clitoris gently at first and then with greater force and hunger.
Kingsley paused for a moment to answer, “I hadn’t planned on paying for this.”
“Good. Because I’m out of your price range.” She threaded her fingers through his hair and pushed his head back down. When Kingsley laughed his rich French laugh into her, Nora gasped. One booted ankle landed on the back of the seat in the window. There. That would give Mr. and Mrs. SUV behind them something to talk about.
Nora clung to the leather interior as Kingsley pushed two fingers into her and found her g-spot. She clenched around his hand as her hips rose up. He worked all the magic his French tongue had on her. The muscles in her lower back tightened. The pressure built hard and high. After a few minutes of the Kingsley Edge treatment, she came with the force of two miserable months of celibacy behind her.
Panting, she lifted her head and watched Kingsley sit up and run the back of his hand over his wet lips. She wanted to kiss him, to taste herself, to thank him for the pleasure and the attention. But he was her boss. And she’d hardly thank the man for one orgasm when he was the reason she’d gone two months without.
“Lovely,” Nora said as she pulled her leg out of the back window. “But that only makes up for about a week.”
Kingsley gave her his best French pout.
“Fine. Two weeks then. But it’ll take more than a backseat...” Nora paused, realizing she of all people couldn’t come up with the female equivalent of blowjob, decided to make one up, “a backseat v.j. to make up for two months of nothing.”