Page 27 of In Love With a Master (Interview With a Master 2)

“What?” Leticia’s face turned to ash. “I can’t do that! What would I say to him?”

“Tell him you are almost finished with the articles,” I demanded.

Leticia began to protest but I cut her off. “Jonah, I –”

“Do it.”

Still spread wide open before me, Leticia rolled her upper body so that she could reach the phone. She stabbed her fingers at the numbers and then fell flat onto her back again, staring aghast at the ceiling. I could hear the ring tone echoing faintly against her ear. A man’s voice came on the line, sounding reedy and very far away. It was a growl of a voice – the tone of a man accustomed to barking orders.

“Hi…” Leticia began, clearing her throat and sounding breathless. “It’s Leticia Fall. I’m calling from the office.”

I settled myself back between Leticia’s legs and moved my mouth so that my tongue began to probe and thrust itself deep within her. I could sense the welling of her arousal, and the taste of it was sweet in my mouth. I devoured her hungrily, using deft and subtle changes of pressure and direction to quickly carry her towards the brink of a climax.

I heard a strained gasp escape Leticia’s lips, and a moment later her voice on the phone, sounding shaken and distracted. “No, I’m fine,” she explained to the editor. “I just spilled coffee on myself.”

I smiled. With mischievous, wicked intent, I began to nibble at her clit, making soft sucking sounds, and teasing her mercilessly. Leticia clamped her mouth shut and her eyes were screwed tight. She was frowning with fierce concentration, her body beginning to tremble from the strain of remaining discreet.

There was a long moment of silence, and then suddenly Leticia gushed a rush of words into the phone, stringing them together so that they were almost unintelligible.

“Sorry for calling so late. Just wanted you to know the articles were almost finished. I’ll leave them on your desk tonight. Bye.”

I heard the receiver clatter on the hard timber of the desk and the sound of Leticia’s fingers stabbing to disconnect the call, just as the sound of a strangled moan came gasping up her throat.

I felt Leticia’s hands fist into my hair, and I glanced up for an instant, looking between her spread legs to her face. Her features were contorted into a rictus of ecstasy. She had her head tossed to the side, one cheek pressed against the warm wood of her editor’s desk and her hands reaching down between her legs to tangle in my hair. I could see the swelling rapid heave of her breasts and the sharp inhalations of her breath as my tongue began to circle her clit, drawing inexorably closer to the core of her. I could feel the hard points of her high heels digging into the flesh of my shoulder as she seemed to push down against me to thrust up with her hips.

I have pleasured many women with my mouth, and I was skilled in bringing women to orgasm – but I wasn’t this skilled. I knew that part of Leticia’s rapidly rising arousal was due to the taboo thrill of the circumstance. Being taken this way on her editor’s desk, and the risk of being discovered, was an added aphrodisiac for her – a sinfully erotic moment of lust and surrender.

I heard Leticia gulp in one last long breath of air to fill her lungs, and at that very instant I drew myself away from her and stopped.

For long moments Leticia’s hips still twitched and flexed. For long seconds she held herself tense on the very edge of exploding. Finally her eyes blinked slowly open, grey and unfocused, and she stared at me. Her lips were parted, her breathing short and shallow. Her hands untangled from my hair and drifted instinctively down her thighs to between her legs. Her fingers brushed over her clit, and I seized her wrist. Leticia’s eyes cleared and became confused. “Jonah…?” her voice was just a dry croak.

“That’s enough,” I said. “From now on you will only come when I give you permission.”

Leticia looked disbelieving. She lifted herself up onto one elbow and glared to where I knelt. “What?”

I had the juice and scent of her on my lips. I licked at it, savoring the taste and then got to my feet slowly. “You heard me,” I said in a matter-of-fact tone. “Your body belongs to me for my pleasure. As such, I control your orgasms. That means I decide when you can come and when you must wait in anticipation for the pleasure of your release.”

“What?” Leticia rebelled. “You brought me in here and took me right to the edge for no reason?”

I shook my head. “No,” I said slowly and deliberately. “I brought you in here to teach you a lesson in anticipation and obedience.”

Leticia scrambled off the desk and tugged furiously at the hem of her skirt. She straightened her clothes, the anger and frustration simmering within her. She scraped her fingers through her hair. She looked at me at last, defiance snapping her eyes. Words boiled behind her pale closed lips, but she kept her mouth clamped tightly shut and I went on speaking.

“Submitting to a Master means surrender,” I explained, my voice devoid of any passion or emotion. “You understood that when we agreed to this relationship. You knew that your obedience would be tested. You knew that anticipation in a sexual relationship is everything.”

Leticia took a deep shuddering breath, and with some effort of will she seemed to shake off her temper. She stared at me for a long moment and then nodded her head and lowered her eyes.

“Good girl.” I saw the capitulation in her expression.

Leticia grunted and made a face of disapproval. “Good girl my ass,” she huffed, but I could see that her anger had been quelled. “I hope you intend on rewarding my patience, mister.”

I smiled. “Look on the bright side,” I muttered. “We’re making progress. I want you, Leticia, and I need you in my life. That’s a start.”

Leticia became suddenly serious. “But you don’t love me yet, do you?”

I shook my head slowly. “Not yet,” I admitted softly. “But two out of three ain’t bad.”

Chapter 17.

I hung up the phone and slumped wearily into the comforting embrace of the big chair. The soft leather creaked and wrapped itself around me, and I stared out through the office window for a long moment, replaying in my mind the conversation: the terms of the deal I had been able to negotiate with the Middle East investors.

I stood to make a small fortune – but what good was money?

When your life is finite and defined, the pursuit of wealth that I would never live long enough to spend seemed frivolous.

But this property deal wasn’t about wealth – it was about leaving a legacy – some vast monument on the far side of the world as

a relic of my life.

I heaved myself out of the chair. I was tired, nerves strung tight from intense negotiation and the kind of daring brinkmanship that is needed when dealing in vast sums of money.

There was a half glass of whisky on the corner of the desk. I scooped the tumbler up and raised it in a silent salute, then emptied the glass while staring out through the window at a star filled night.

The house was cold. I switched off the desk lamp and pulled the office door closed behind me. My legs felt leaden, and there was the tight cramp of muscles in my neck and shoulders. I pushed open the bedroom door and stood on the threshold for an instant. Above the big bed, the drapes were wide open, and soft ambient moonlight spilled in a shaft through the glass. I went to the foot of the bed, unbuttoned my shirt and slid it off my shoulders.

I flexed the muscles in my chest to ease the ache of pain in my shoulders. Outside, a thin slice of moon was hanging low in the sky, obscured by wisps of dark cloud. Everything was silent. The whole world seemed asleep.

I turned my neck from side to side, unraveling the kinks of tension.

“Very nice,” a woman’s voice whispered suddenly from out of the heavy shadows.

I froze.

A figure peeled itself away from the darkness near my wardrobe and came towards me so that we stood across the bed from each other.

“You look good, Jonah.”

A ripple of surprise ran through me – a cold bit of steel. For long moments I said nothing. I felt the tremors of disbelief radiate through my body and then gradually subside.

“I am standing here half-naked.”

I saw Leticia incline her head as her silhouette began to soften and the nightlight caught the features and planes of her figure.

“Yes – but only half-naked. I could have waited…”

Touché.

I didn’t reach for my shirt: it was ghostly dark in the room, but despite the protective veil of night, I still felt surprisingly exposed. I had been caught off my guard, and I hate surprises.

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