Page 10

Madison

“How was your day?” he asks on Thursday as soon as I climb into the car and shut the door.

I flip him the bird.

He laughs as he pulls away from the curb. “That good, huh?”

I slink down in the seat and sulk. I’m behaving like a toddler, but I don’t give a fuck. I’ve been submitting to Myles for six days. So far, all that has entailed has been him bossing me around and me obeying him.

I go to class, I come home. I eat what he tells me.

I study more than necessary. I watch television with him at night—he does let me choose.

I go to bed at an ungodly early hour because that’s one of his rules.

I keep my room clean and put my dishes in the dishwasher. I’m the most obedient woman alive.

It’s boring as fuck.

The only thing sexual between us is our texts.

I’ve considered texting him from inside the house just to get a rise out of him while we’re at home, but I can’t because the infuriating man takes my phone from me and puts it on the charger as soon as we step in the door. I’m not allowed to have it in my room.

He doesn’t say anything on the drive.

I’m itching for a fight when we get inside, but I never get a chance.

Myles takes my bag, sets it on the floor, and turns me around so fast my head is spinning as I find myself bent over the island, facing the granite. My heart rate goes through the roof in seconds. I’m confused.

“Let’s get a few things straight,” he says.

I open my mouth. “Sir…”

He reaches around and sets a finger over my lips. “Not a word. You’ll listen.” He holds me down with his other hand on the small of my back.

I purse my lips.

“First of all, if you think you can test me by sassing me every day, you’re wrong. I don’t care if you sass me for the rest of your life. Your ass will be sore every day—that’s up to you.”

He keeps threatening that, but he hasn’t touched my butt yet.

“I’m forty-three years old, Madison. I’m not playing games here.

I want you. I want every fucking inch of you.

You may think I’m testing you, and you’d be right, but the test is not pass-fail.

The test is so you can think hard about whether or not you want to submit to me.

Sure, in the course of our lives, there will be millions of kinky scenes between us, but in between, there will be everyday living like you’ve experienced this week.

Regular days where you submit to me without getting something out of it besides the satisfaction of knowing you pleased me and by exchange, yourself, too. ”

He sets a hand on my bottom and slides it down until he’s cupping my pussy over my jeans. He presses against my sex. “This pussy feels pretty hot and wet to me, Madison.”

I grunt as I rise onto my toes.

“Does it make you horny when I boss you around?”

“Yes, Sir,” I whimper.

“Does it make your pussy wet when I order you to brush your teeth or do your homework?”

I flatten my hands on the top of the island and dig my fingers in even though there’s nothing to make purchase with. “Yes, Sir.”

He leans over to whisper in my ear, “Do you squirm in class when I text you, Madison?”

“Yes, Sir,” I admit, nodding.

“That’s what I want from you, Madison. I want you to submit to me because it fucking feels good. Because it makes your nipples hard and your cunt pulse. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good girl. Now, I’m going to punish you because I don’t want you to doubt my methods again. We won’t have a repeat of you sulking around, not trusting me to know what I’m doing. Are we clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” I tingle all over. How is he going to punish me?

“Somehow, I have kept my hands to myself all week. Are you ready to feel my palm on your bottom, Madison?”

“Yes, Sir.” I try not to sound too eager.

“Do I have permission to pull your jeans and panties down so I can spank your bare skin?”

I swallow. Finally . “Yes, Sir.”

He presses his palm against my lower back. “Don’t move an inch.” His hands slide around to the button on my jeans so he can unfasten them. He tugs the denim over my hips, taking my panties with it.

I whimper as the air in the room hits my ass.

His hand returns to the small of my back, and he pushes my shirt up to allow him to rest his palm on my bare skin. “Spread your legs, Madison.”

I part my knees, my breath hitching as my vulnerability rises.

This is Myles. I’ve known him my entire life. I’ve dreamed of him dominating me like this for years. It’s finally happening. I know it won’t be everything I usually visualize. He’s not going to fuck me tonight. But this is huge.

He rubs my butt cheeks, and I hold my breath when he lifts his hand. It comes down in a firm swat. The sting is unexpected. It shouldn’t be. Obviously, it will hurt, but it still startles me.

The next slap against my skin isn’t as jarring. He spanks me three more times before he pauses.

I’m panting. My adrenaline is pumping hard through my entire body. I don’t want him to stop. “More,” I beg.

He rubs my bottom again. “That’s my girl.” He spanks me harder this time, stopping only when I can’t catch my breath.

When he’s done, I’m throbbing from the exhilaration. I’m so aroused, I feel like I could come from one touch to my clit.

Myles leans over and kisses my neck. “Now you know.”

I moan. My legs are trembling.

He wedges his knee between mine and presses it against my pussy.

I arch my head and chest off the island. “Oh God.”

He pets my hair. “My poor girl hasn’t had an orgasm in a week. Take what you need, Madison. Find your pleasure.”

Against his thigh? He wants me to rub myself against his leg?

I don’t question him. I won’t risk him changing his mind. I need the release. I palm the island to brace myself and shamelessly lower my pussy so I can grind against his thigh.

Myles brings his lips back to my neck. His hand continues to stroke my hair. “That’s it, sweetheart. Pleasure yourself for me. Show me how pretty you are when you come.”

It feels so filthy. He’s coaching me. He’s not going to touch me. He’s giving me the opportunity to masturbate against his leg. I’m so totally wanton and desperate to come that I rub myself against him, my moans filling the room.

When my orgasm reaches its peak, I stiffen and cry out, the pulses of my release vibrating against the denim covering him. I’m certain I’ve soaked his jeans. I don’t care.

My legs are shaking as he removes his knee. He squats behind me, cups my heated cheeks, and kisses each of them reverently. It’s the sweetest moment of my life, and I’m not even facing him.

He eases my panties over my sore bottom and then my jeans.

I wince as he tugs them into place. He even reaches around to zip and button them. He lowers my shirt back into place. “You okay?” he asks as he kisses my neck yet again.

“No.”

He chuckles. “Good. I’d be worried if you were.” He strokes my arms, his chest against my back. “I need to return to my office. I have a client waiting for information from me.”

“Can I come?” I’m afraid to turn around and see his face. He never invites me to his office. It’s on the first floor behind the garage. I barely understand what he does. Something with computers. I’ve never asked. I have a suspicion sometimes it’s not exactly on the up and up.

I’m a history major. A silly degree. My father probably should have talked me out of it. I suppose I’ll get a teaching degree or apply for my master's, but I’ve done neither yet. I’ve been ignoring my future, and it’s been the farthest thing from my mind for the past week.

“You want to come down to my office?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He turns me in his arms and cups my face. He’s smiling. “Really?”

I set both hands on his chest. “I like to be near you. It makes me feel…” I clear my face. “It makes me feel .”

“It’s actually a good idea. I’d like to keep an eye on you after a spanking like that.” He picks up my bookbag and nods toward the stairs. “Let’s go.”

I follow him. I’ve never been in his office, and my first impression is surprise. Nothing on the top two floors of his house is out of place, not even the leaves of his plants. But this room… This is organized chaos.

He laughs. “Shocked?”

“Yes.”

Two walls of this room are an L-shaped built-in desk space. There are shelves above the counter filled with rows of books, piles of papers, notebooks, and three-ring binders.

He picks up a stack of folders from a workspace and moves it to the other end before pulling out a chair. “Sit.”

I obey him, but it’s laughable. He’s just cleared a square foot of space.

Myles reaches around me to move more things, and the space grows.

“How do you know where anything is?”

He chuckles. “I know where everything is.” He turns me to face him on the spinning chair.

When he lifts my chin, his brow is furrowed.

“Don’t ever get some wild hairbrained idea and decide to organize me.

I’d kill you in your sleep.” He grins. That last part was teasing.

Sort of. I’m not sure he wouldn’t, though.

“Okay.”

“This all has meaning to me. I have an incredible memory. I know where I set shit and what pen I used to write things and what the napkin I wrote it on looked like.”

I giggle. He’s not kidding, though. I’m certain.

“What do you do?” I ask, my curiosity piqued.

He sits in one of the other desk chairs. There are four. “I’m a hacker.”

My eyes bug out. “A hacker? You mean you break into bank vaults and steal money?”

He laughs. “No, sweetheart. I’m not that nefarious. Though it should be noted…” He holds out a finger. “I could.”

I’ve clearly underestimated him.

“So, what you do is legal?” Is there such a thing as legal hacking?

“Sometimes. Sometimes, it’s a bit under the radar. Sometimes people hire me to dig into someone’s life.”

“And you do that? You hack into people’s personal data?” I’m kind of shocked. How did I never know this?

“Not if the person hiring me means to use the information for ill will, no. My clients are well-vetted. When I take a job, I make certain it’s for a good reason.”

“What sort of things are good reasons?” I’m so curious now that I’m leaning forward.

“A missing person, for example. I’m often hired for contract work from the government, the police, or the FBI.

Sometimes, I take a job for locally-owned businesses like Black Blade Protection or Levitt Security.

They provide manpower to track people down and keep them safe, but sometimes they need my services. ”

“So, you’re really good at your job.”

“One of the best.” He pumps his chest and then smirks. “However, I will admit, one of the other top-tier members of Edge recently married a woman who could probably out-hack me from what I’ve heard. Dane and Paige Levitt. Maybe you’ll meet them someday.”

At least he has a marginally humble side.

I nod toward the computer in front of him. “What are you working on tonight?”

“Can’t tell you that, sweetheart. I’ll never be able to discuss what I do with you.”

I sigh. Bummer. Then I home in on something else he said. “If I might meet Dane and Paige, does that mean you’ll take me to Edge someday?”

He chuckles. “We’ll see.” That’s about as non-committal as it gets.

Myles makes a circular motion with his finger and points at the desk space in front of me. “Homework.” He puts on a headset and turns to face his monitor. In a heartbeat, he’s totally absorbed. Fascinating.

I grab my backpack and open it. I guess I better put a dent in my final paper for Eastern European History. Thank goodness I find it interesting. Otherwise, I’d be pulling my hair out from thinking about the bad-ass man doing his bad-ass shit behind me.