Taking His Hand (Under His Roof #2) Read online

  I agreed, if a bit begrudgingly, and David was empathetic with my response. While I understand he has a professional relationship with the women he spanks, it still makes me uncomfortable if I really stop to think about it. He sees them naked. He’s intimate with them, on both a psychological and physical level. As professional as it all may be, the fact of the matter is he’s an extremely attractive dominant man who spanks women for a living.

  Hell, it would be weird if I didn’t have a negative emotional reaction to that. What if he isn’t professional with them? What if some of the women are more attractive than me? What if he bonds with them, in a deeper way than he does with me, as he disciplines them?

  He’s confident it’ll be less weird for me once his office is built and he can keep his clients out of the house. I’m hoping he’s right. I can see the signs that he’s hosted a client. I notice when the chair at the dining room table—where he has his ‘talks’ before each session—is left out rather than pushed in as it should be. Or when the client wears a particular perfume, clearly too much of it, and I can smell her in the doorway as I walk inside after work.

  Long after his clients are gone, I feel their presence. So, yes, the new office will help. It will keep work away from the home, which is probably a good thing regardless of his profession. Hopefully it will make things easier on me. Maybe it will quiet the nagging voice in the back of my head that wonders if he really keeps everything professional. Or does he lust after them? Stare at their asses like he gazes at mine?

  I shake the negative thoughts from my brain as David and Mitchell wander back inside, done for the day.

  “I’m working tonight, or I’d go with you,” Mitchell says to David, shrugging apologetically.

  “No worries. You’ll see Mom and Dad tomorrow night.”

  “Erin’s making some pie or something. You want us to bring anything else?”

  “Just yourselves.”

  I give Mitchell a hug before he goes. He’s sweaty, and smells a little like David though their bodies are quite different. Mitchell’s shorter, stockier, and appears stronger than David though I’m not sure who’s stronger than whom. They’re both hot as hell. It’ll be interesting to meet their parents, who must be attractive people, considering their offspring. The youngest sibling, Ryan, is such a Casanova. He’s got the charm David has, but it’s a little more boyish and less outwardly responsible and dominant.

  Then, there’s Marilyn. The first time I met her, she was out with David for dinner and I’d been totally jealous, assuming they were on a date. She is drop-dead gorgeous. Tall, lean, with flowing blond hair that could be straight out of a shampoo commercial. Even when she wears it up, it’s still perfect, not a hair out of place.

  “You want me to go with?” I ask as David heads to the bedroom to shower.

  “To the airport?” he asks, turning to face me, a goofy grin on his face. “Or…to the shower?”

  I giggle and he gives me the ‘come hither’ finger. So, I join him in the shower, lathering him up, soaking in his smell, his warmth. When we’re clean, he pushes me gently until I’m up against the wall, his hand sliding between my legs.

  “Do we have time?” I ask, my breathing heavy as I allow my hands a moment to linger on his strong, incredible chest.

  “Mmm…” he murmurs, kissing my neck. The water splashes against his back, some drops hitting me as they ricochet off his skin. He’s hard, his erection resting against my inner thigh, and I reach down to squeeze him. My touch makes him shudder, and he presses me harder against the wall.

  “I have to be quick,” he says, smiling down at me.

  “I’m okay with that.” I flash him a playful grin.

  David makes a low growl and picks me up, carrying me out of the shower and into the bedroom. Without bothering with towels or anything at all, he throws me onto the bed and climbs in between my legs.

  “We’re all wet!” I say, laughing.

  “Hmm, really?” he replies, raising his eyebrows. He slips a finger over my pussy, checking to see how damp I am. I’m wet from the shower but I know I’m slick with desire, too. He can turn me on instantly.

  When he slides inside me I moan happily, arching my back to take all of him. I love it when he takes me…I love it when I feel him on top of me, his power and strength…God, I love this man…

  ~2~

  David

  My parents have been gone for three months, visiting friends and exploring northern California, and yet the only thing they’re willing to discuss on the two-hour drive back from the airport is my new girlfriend.

  “Why didn’t she come with you?” Mom asks with an obvious look of disappointment on her face.

  “We’re still getting ready to have y’all over for dinner tomorrow night, Mom,” I explain, slipping into my North Carolinian accent as I tend to do around my parents.. “She’ll see you then. For a proper introduction.”

  “But we want to meet this girl of yours,” says Dad, relaxing in the front seat and eying the odometer as I merge onto the highway.

  “I know. You will.”

  Mom leans forward between the two front seats and peppers me with questions. “What’s she like? Have you met her parents yet? She works in advertising, right? Will she advertise your life-coach business? Does she like Sparky?”

  I do my best to answer her questions but finally get fed up. “Mom, put your seatbelt on. Tell me about California.”

  That does the trick, and I get a full report from Mom, Dad chiming in on occasion with details or ridiculous anecdotes. I’m feel a twinge of envy when Dad describes the Redwood National Park, with the trees that ‘are so damned tall you could climb them right up to heaven’.

  When we get to their place, Marilyn is there to greet us. We go inside for tea and more chatting before I excuse myself to get back home to Rachel.

  Rachel. My Rachel. We’ve been together for such a short time but it feels like a lifetime. I can’t imagine not going home to her now. I’ve been practicing saying ‘our’ house instead of ‘my’ house. I have to admit, the plural rolls nicely off my tongue.

  She’s been so accommodating and understanding of the work I do. Every time I think about it, I realize that our crazy decision—moving in together so quickly—was the right thing to do. I’d been anxious about her reaction to me hosting clients. I mean, I spank naked women literally fifty feet from where we sleep at night. I know on some level she must be struggling with that. She’s an open-minded woman, but she’s not without feelings. I’ve told her she has nothing to worry about, and I hope she believes me.

  When I get home, she’s on the couch, napping with Sparky. I tuck a blanket around her, peck her on the forehead, and turn down the volume of the DIY projects show she was watching about wallpaper stripping. Was she imagining re-doing my bathrooms, making them “our” bathrooms already? I smiled, thinking of her cooking up plans. Checking in online, I confirm my appointment with Opal for tomorrow morning before scooting in next to Rachel and lifting her head to lay in my lap.

  Stroking her neck makes her murmur something unintelligible before her eyelids flutter just slightly and she gazes up at me.

  “They arrived safe and sound?” she asks, reaching up to run her fingers through my hair.

  “They did. They’re excited to meet you tomorrow.”

  “I’m excited to meet them, too. I’m curious about the people who raised you.” She looks thoughtful. “Did they spank you, growing up?”

  Laughing, I shake my head. “Nope. No one in my family believes in corporal punishment. For children, that is.” I scoop her up, then scootch under her so she’s laying across my lap. “And I don’t think any of them believe in it for adults, either. Except me. I’m unique.”

  “You’re a snowflake!” she says, giggling and half-heartedly squirming to get out of the way.

  I give her a few playful swats before picking her up and heading to the bedroom. If I could, I’d spend all my time with her in the bedroom. Our bedroom
.

  As I undress her I think about spanking her. Not hard, not for punishment. Not for pain. I want to give her an erotic spanking, something sensual and fun. But not yet.

  I don’t ever want to rush her. We have so much time for exploration. For experimentation. To find what’s right and fun and good.

  I kiss her slowly, strip her slowly, enter her slowly. This isn’t fucking. It’s making love. I wonder if I even knew what that meant before Rachel. I listen to her moans of pleasure, the chorus of bliss that blows my mind. She is so deliciously hot, wearing her thin T-shirt with nothing else.

  Sunday morning, I wake up before Rachel and make coffee for two. It’s still a little weird. I love it. She’s going out shopping with Samantha today so I can have a private session with Opal. I’m looking forward to seeing Opal, actually. I hadn’t heard from her in nearly four months, and she used to schedule weekly appointments with me. She mentioned in her e-mail that she would explain her absence. Mostly I just hope she’s doing okay.

  Rachel appears in the kitchen, freshly showered and in her bathrobe, to get a cup of coffee. I grab her for a quick kiss, and I can’t help but run my hands over her body, warm and smelling like coconut from her shower gel. I take her coffee and set it on the counter beside us.

  “You are so sexy,” I breathe. While I’m happy to see Opal, I do wish I could just have Rachel to myself this morning.

  “Mmm, back atcha,” she says, kissing me and biting my lower lip playfully. “I gotta get ready.”

  “Sam’s stealing you away from me, right?”

  “Just for a few hours,” Rachel says, laughing. “Can’t wait for tonight. It’ll be so nice to meet your folks. And see everyone together. And…” she pauses, looking troubled.

  “What’s up, hun?”

  She shakes her head. “Nothing. It’s just…you know my awful secretary I’m always whining about?”

  “Yeah.” Of course I know her, I think to myself. Her secretary, Aria, has been a client of mine for a while.

  “I finally fired her Friday afternoon. It was the right thing to do…just sucks, you know? She actually ended up getting transferred to a different department, which I guess is good for her.”

  I pause for a moment. Nothing about my interactions with Aria nor Rachel have indicated that she should’ve been kept on staff. “Do you know why they moved her rather than just letting her go?”

  She shrugs. “Not really. Something about her having too much potential to fire. I don’t know…when it happened, she just seemed like she was taking it way too personally. Anyway, I’m looking forward to having a distraction tonight.”

  “Oh, sweetie,” I say, grabbing her and bundling her up in my arms. She relaxes into me and I hold her for a long moment, thinking both of her plight and poor Aria. She must be devastated. She’d always tried to impress Rachel, and really loved working for her. Their conflicts had been the emphasis of many of my sessions with Aria. I figured her boss was kind of a bitch until I realized it was Rachel.

  “So, tonight will take my mind off work. I mean, I’m happy to be done struggling with her. She just looked so sad when I told her…”

  Pulling away from the hug, I hold her at an arm’s length and study her.

  “Rachel, do you remember how irritable you were yesterday morning?”

  She nods, and then a look of realization crosses her face.

  “When you’re upset about something, anything at all, I need you to come to me. I would have dealt with your behavior differently yesterday had I known what was going on in your head.”

  “I didn’t know…” she whispers.

  “I understand, sweetie. We’ll work on your self-awareness.” I pull her in for another big hug and kiss her forehead. Then, abruptly, I grab the belt on her robe and untie it, pushing it to the side to expose her ass.

  “Hey!” She moves her hand back to protect herself.

  I grab her wrist, holding her tight so she realizes that she’s powerless to fight what’s coming. Then I deliver fifteen quick, sharp spanks to her ass. When I let her up, her face is flushed. I hold her until she’s steady on her feet.

  “Whoa,” she says.

  I raise my eyebrows and point to the bedroom. “Go get ready. You’re meeting Sam in less than an hour.”

  “Okay.”

  Opal arrives right on time at eleven. She’s lost some weight in the last four months, and I try not to appear concerned as I study her body while she walks past me, straight toward the dining room where we’ll have our pre-session talk. She’s always been slender and certainly didn’t need to lose any weight. I hope she’s been taking care of herself.

  She’s wearing a black skirt with black stockings. I know from experience they’re thigh-highs, and I push aside the mental picture of what I’ll see when I lift her skirt. Before Rachel, I usually allowed myself those brief moments of pleasure when I have attractive clients. Now that I’m with Rachel, though, I really try hard to keep my imagination under control.

  “I was happy to hear from you,” I say, taking the chair adjacent to Opal’s. I’d sent her an email two months ago, just checking to be sure she was okay, and she responded with a quick note saying everything was fine. Like all my clients, Opal and I have a professional relationship. But since I’ve known her for so long, I do care for her like I would a friend.

  “Honestly, I’m really happy to be back,” she says, staring straight into my eyes. Her black hair is shorter now. It used to be long, always in a braid. Now it falls just below her chin, framing her face nicely. She looks good. Older than her twenty-five years.

  “I like your new hair-do,” I say, deciding to let her lead the spanking discussion when she feels comfortable. She’d warned me she wanted a pretty hard session. I can always count on Opal to let me know exactly what she needs. I love that about her. She’s one of my easiest clients. No mind-reading is ever expected or required.

  Her face brightens. “Thanks! I just got it cut last week. Sort of a post-break-up requisite, I think. Get new clothes, get a new hair cut…”

  “So you were dating someone?” That explains the absence. “He took care of spanking you?”

  “She, actually. She took care of spanking me.”

  I feel a little blush rise in my cheeks and inwardly scold myself for assuming Opal was straight. “Sorry,” I say, sheepish.

  “Don’t be. So, anyway. We broke up a couple weeks ago. I’m okay with it. I am. It’s just been a big change. I wouldn’t say I’m depressed…just down. Sometimes I feel like I’m dragging myself through the days, you know? And, I’m trying to kick the habits I picked up with her. Well, the one habit, really…”

  I raise my eyebrows, and now Opal looks sheepish.

  “I started smoking again,” she admits.

  That explains the weight loss. Come to think of it, Opal was around this weight when I first met her. I’d spanked her out of being a smoker once and I’m happy to do it again.

  “Christy—that’s her name—she’s a big partier. I became friends with a lot of her friends, and they’re a different crowd, you know? A couple years younger than me…they stay up later, party, smoke pot. I don’t know. I don’t mind doing that stuff on occasion, but I need to stop doing it all the time. It’s part of why we broke up. Why I broke up with her.”

  Opal pauses, thoughtful, staring at her hands. Her fingernails are painted black. I wish she would paint them pink, or red. It would suit her.

  “I really think I can get ahead this year. I’ve got some regular clients, and a few of them have started sending me their friends. I’m actually looking into hiring an assistant. I just need to focus. I’m not a young party girl anymore.”

  “I understand,” I say, making my smile warm. Opal is a fantastic graphic designer. She really does have a keen sense of style—I’ve seen her portfolio. In fact, she designed the newest menu for my brother Mitchell’s restaurant, Maddy’s Place.

  She looks up, meeting my eyes. “The spankings with Chris
ty were more for fun. What I need from you today is strictness. I really need this. Motivation, or something. I don’t know. I need it to focus myself. To be centered again.”

  “I understand completely. Is it okay if I leave marks?”

  “I want marks,” she whispers, betraying her nervousness, which she then tries to cancel by looking me straight in the eye. Opal is nothing if not direct.

  “If you say ‘red’, I’ll stop,” I remind her, getting up and holding my arm out to help her to her feet.

  “I remember.”

  Smiling to myself, but keeping a firm expression for Opal, I lead her to the discipline room.

  “It hasn’t changed much,” she says, walking in.

  “Nope. But soon there’ll be a big change. I’m building a new office.” I pull the curtain open so that she can see my progress out in the yard. Almost all of the framing is done, so it’s starting to look like an actual space.

  “Lots of new clients or something?” she asks, unbuttoning her skirt and casually letting it fall to her ankles.

  “New girlfriend, actually.”

  “David! Seriously?” Opal beams at me and throws her arms around my neck in an uncharacteristic show of affection. “That’s so awesome.”

  “Thanks. It is pretty awesome.”

  “You deserve a great girl. I hope she’s good enough for you.”

  “She’s better than that. I hope I’m good enough for her.” I walk to my supply cabinet and contemplate which paddle I’ll use.

  “As I’ve gotten to know you, I wondered why you were single. I’m sure you’re the perfect boyfriend.”

  It amuses me she’s complimenting me while I’m simultaneously selecting a small oak paddle to use on her behind. I keep that to myself, though, and keep character. She’s kept her bra on, and her panties, and her sheer, black, thigh high stockings.

  “Get on your hands and knees on the daybed, Opal.” I point for emphasis.