Page 24 of Her Bad Boy

Lucas' eyebrows rose to his hairline. "That's enough, young lady. You have been given a rule, and I expect you to obey it. It is non-negotiable."

She glared but answered in the manner he prescribed, "Yes, Sir," although her tone was less meek and obedient than pouting and petulant.

And Lucas wasn't going to have that, rising with the speed of a snake to tug her over his knee on the bed. "Do we need to have another discussion about your demeanor towards me, little miss?" he asked, his hand lying threateningly over her backside.

Her response was immediate and downright obsequious. "No, no—I'm sorry, Sir. Please don't spank me."

Lucas loved the balance he had found in her. She still resisted him actively sometimes, and he hoped she never stopped doing so, but lately, as the spankings had become less of a novelty, as well as less sporadic and more regular, such that her bottom was always either fresh from a spanking or only a day or so into recovering from one, she had become more obedient—overall—in order to avoid them, which was exactly what he wanted.

But instead of spanking her this time, he had hooked his legs through hers and spread them both wide, leaving her exposed, reaching his hand down to fondle and tease her.

Allie was incredibly enamored of him as a lover and a dom—he handled her perfectly. He wasn't overly controlling; he didn't try to stop her from seeing people or going out. In fact, he encouraged it, and he encouraged her independence as well as the journey she had begun to force herself out of the boundaries she had placed on herself.

But he did control her—quite tightly—when they were together, with an intoxicating combination of loving, gentlemanly tendencies mixed with a large dose of strict, demanding dom. She had no experience of a man who was quite as sexual as he was. He was positively insatiable, and—far from being irritated or put out or ever trying to talk him out of it—she preened that he wanted her so frequently, even though she was often quite as sore in front as she was in back.

One of the things he had taken control of immediately about her was something she had always wanted someone to take in hand for her. He ruthlessly controlled her pleasure. Now that they were together, she was absolutely as insatiable as he was—probably more so, since she was capable of infinite climaxes.

But he doled them out sparingly, usually as a reward for good behavior, and, since she was still learning how to please him in a lot of ways, she found that she was often still throbbing in dire need of release when he patted her bottom and sent her off to work in the morning. This led to her being downright distracted at work, shifting in her chair, worrying that she was going to leave a dark spot on her chair, and generally showing the unmistakable signs of being terribly horny.

Laura, of course, noticed immediately when they went out for dinner the first time since she and Lucas had gotten together.

Allie had checked in with Lucas about whether it was okay for her to go out with her friend rather than coming right home to him after work—not that he usually cared—but she liked doing that, and if he had said no, she would have obeyed him.

He had been surprisingly distracted during their phone call, as if he was concentrating hard on something and she was interrupting him, but he didn't want to blow her off. "Hi, kitten. That's fine with me—I have somewhere to be this evening, too."

"Ah. Okay. If you're not home, I'll call you when I get to your place—although it's likely to be late—Laura's a chatterbox."

It took him a few seconds to respond, then he said, "I might well be late, too, although I don't know. Good girl for checking in. Text me when you get home. I love you."

She had been used to him devoting all of his attention to her when she was with him, but she knew that wasn't realistic to expect all the time, so she tried not worry that he sounded distant. After all, he'd praised her and even told her that he loved her, and they were going to be together tonight.

She had said, "Me, too," which was as close as she could come at the moment. and he seemed fine with it. "Be careful," she added.

Allie could hear his smile as he said, "Always. You, too. Gotta go, little one. See you tonight."

The two women arrived at the same time outside on the sidewalk—right when their reservation was for, so they didn't get any time to chat beforehand. Once they were brought to their table, which was a small private one Laura had specifically requested at the back, away from most of the rest of the tables, they took their seats and then their waitress descended on them, asking what they wanted to drink.

Laura looked her straight in the eye and said, "Go away. I'll call you when we want you."

The poor girl looked flustered, but Laura did not relent.

As soon as she was gone, she leaned over the table and got directly into Allie's startled face. "Spill. From the beginning. I want to hear every hot, horny, NSFW moment—I don't care if we have to camp out here 'til midnight. You've been avoiding my calls, ducking my emails and ignoring my texts. I am at the end of my rope—I need to know exactly what's going on!"

Allie played coy, batting her eyelashes at her friend. "Why, whatever could you mean, Laura?"

Laura banged her hand down on the table for emphasis. "I'm not kidding, sister! I'm perimenopausal and I'm hopped up on E.R.T. My lady bits are like the Sahara at the moment—all dried up and no one around for miles. I have to live vicariously through you. Now start talking, and for once, I don't mean about the food you're eating!" She actually held a breadstick to her friend's throat threateningly, which had the both of them laughing uproariously.

"Well…"

It was so unusual for her to have sex stuff to talk about that Allie actually relished it enormously. Their positions had only ever been reversed.

And she told her everything—she just started talking and kept talking all throughout dinner, with Laura ruthlessly controlling the poor intimidated waitress and the slow progress of their meal.

"Is she going to be all right?" Allie asked when the poor girl delivered their coffees, rattling the cups against the saucers nervously, fit to break them.

Laura shrugged. "She's young—she'll be fine, and I'll over tip the crap out of her. That'll ease her nerves. Keep talking, but be thinking about what you want for dessert."

By the time she finished her homemade mile high chocolate cake and Laura her homemade coconut cream pie, she was telling her friend about the phone call today.

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