The Do It List (The Do It List #1) Read online

  He reached up and pulled me across muscled thighs. His hand moved between his legs and cupped my Venus mound. He used his middle finger to press lightly, teasing slick lips, but never completely parting them. I lay across his lap feeling vulnerable, slightly fearful, and unbelievably aroused.

  “Stop squirming,” he warned. “For the next hour or so, you are my sub, and must submit to my will. I will pleasure you if you please and obey me. Do you understand?”

  “I understand.” I waited for the strike of his hand or the stroke of his finger. Not knowing which would come first—pain or pleasure. My body trembled in anticipation.

  The swat came suddenly, accompanied by a prickling sting. Not so bad, really. A pleasant after burn lingered. My cry turned into more of a gasp when his fingers parted my labia.

  “You’re still wet and swollen.”

  Before I had a chance to recover, he slapped again. This one smarted more than the first, and he continued to spank, varying the strength of each swat as his fingers explored. “Do you know what arouses—what excites you, Gracie?”

  “All of it—everything.” My voice no more than a whisper.

  I quickly learned to look forward to the punishment of his swat and the reward of his velvet stroke. “Take a deep breath, baby.” A powerful shudder moved through me as I exhaled.

  His hand lightly massaged my buttocks. “Go as long as you can stand it, but say stop, when you’ve had enough.” The husky rasp in his voice was a sure sign of his own arousal.

  Even as his words comforted, his hand slapped. I waited for the slippery stroke down each side of my clit.

  He expertly—maddeningly—avoided my clit, and found new ways to take me to the edge of orgasm. Every rhythmic swat merged with the slow stroke of his fingers. Slowly, I became engulfed by pure sensation. My ass cheeks burned and my inner core ached for release.

  Bradley’s hand came down hard, and at the same time he buried his fingers deep inside me.

  My vaginal walls closed around the fingers buried deep inside me. “Jeezus—God, Bradley,” I screamed, as powerful tremors and a euphoric-like bliss engulfed me.

  My immersion into the dark, sensuous world of pain and pleasure ended in total surrender. I lay across his lap trembling.

  Gently, he turned me over and rocked me in his arms. I’d never felt so vulnerable, so turned on, and weirdly, so safe. I marveled at how this could have happened so easily, so effortlessly. Could he be the most intuitive man I’d ever met, or were we just naturally dialed into each other?

  I wrapped my arms around his neck. “I didn’t expect to like that quite so much.”

  “Stand up, Gracie.” He helped me scramble upright, my back toward him. “Such a tight, sweet little virgin ass.” He kissed one cheek, then the other. His beard stubble prickled and stung.

  He turned me around. “Are you ready to behave?”

  Gingerly, I rubbed my bottom. “You want me to lay down in the middle of the bed, and hold onto the rails behind me.”

  The ends of his mouth curled. “Come.”

  He sat me down on the bed and I scooted my tender ass toward him. Primal urges simmered in my belly at a deep level. I was experiencing arousal like I never had before. My body vibrated to an exciting new rhythm. I wanted him to explore, make demands, and I would assume any position he asked for. I lay back and reached for the iron bars.

  He knelt beside me and tied my wrists to the bed railings. “Too tight?”

  I tested the bindings. “I’m not going anywhere.”

  He stood by the side of the bed, tall and domineering. “Suck in your belly and arch your back for me.”

  I did as I was told—most provocatively.

  He smiled—a momentary connection—before he lifted me up and slipped a pillow under my ass. “For that lovely, sore bum.”

  “Sweet of you.”

  His stare sent shivers through me. “Not for long, Gracie.”

  Opening the top drawer of the nightstand, he took out the plastic egg and twisted. A low whirring noise signaled the egg vibrated at a low level. “You’ve wanted this bad, Gracie, and now you’re going to get it.”

  He moved to the bed, bending my legs at the knee. “Open wide.” He inserted a finger into my vagina. “Look at you—pretty pink and ready for me.” He added another finger, curling both digits forward.

  “There,” I moaned.

  He withdrew his fingers and slid the egg over my clit and lips, lubricating the oval toy. Stretching me slowly, he pushed the egg against my g-spot. I sucked in a deep breath. Primed for sex by the spanking, the egg instantly raised my arousal level.

  “FYI—it has a remote,” I offered, already breathy.

  The gleam in his eyes made me smile. He rummaged around in the nightstand drawer and found the control, along with a pair of nipple clips. “Are these set at the pressure you like?”

  “You put them on and adjust.” A rush of naughty desire rippled through me. He sat down and circled each areola, plucking the nipple up between two fingers, so he could attach the clip. “More or less?”

  “More.”

  Delicate strands of silver chain lay across my chest, connecting the clips. He gave just one of the chains a playful tug.

  I sucked in a breath and hissed, “Ah, Bradley.” His eyes smoldered with a kind of lust that made my hips gyrate.

  “Have you any idea how desirable you are? How much I want you?”

  As if to prove it to me, he stood up and pushed his jeans and boxers down, enough to release that insatiable cock of his, which pitched upward and slapped against his groin. He leaned over me, angling his erection in the direction of my mouth.

  “You’re going to suck me, Gracie—and get me close—then I’m going to fuck you so hard, you’ll never forget it. Follow my every instruction, otherwise I might have to delay your satisfaction.”

  He stroked himself as if he were sharpening a sword. Everything about him aroused me—especially his gorgeous cock.

  “Lick it.” He demanded, straddling me on his knees.

  Everything about this sex play aroused me. I wanted to hold him, touch him, but he had captured and restrained me. I swirled my tongue around the smooth curves of his thick shaft, and traced a blue vein to the helmeted tip.

  “Ah, Gracie—suck me.” He worked the head into my mouth and thrust in and out slowly. “Deeper, love.”

  I moistened my lips and I took more of him. Whatever he wanted, I gave him, and I loved every one of his raw, rasping instructions. “Give me a long, slow suck over the shaft and smooth licks over the head.”

  I wiggled the tip of my tongue into the cleft and sampled a pearl-sized drop of pre-cum.

  Bradley groaned his approval. “Fuck yeah.”

  His gentle, persistent domination excited me. I had never felt anything close to this level of sexual possession, submission, and arousal.

  He reached into my hair and pushed to the back of my throat. “You’re making me come,” he growled. His hips thrust faster and deeper. “Don’t stop, Gracie.”

  I swallowed all the hot, spurting semen he had in him.

  On his knees, with his head angled back and his eyes closed, he wore that wonderful look on his face—strong yet vulnerable. He continued to pump, coaxing out one last moment of pleasure before he withdrew with a shudder.

  He held the tip close. “Lick it clean.”

  I swirled my tongue over him and I licked off every drop.

  My arousal had climbed along with his, and with each new demand my belly quivered and my heart pounded out the need for relief. The simple discipline of making me wait for my pleasure had rocketed my desire to blood-pounding, greedy need.

  He moved the slider on the remote control and the egg vibrated faster.

  “Your smile, this body—your pussy—is mine. Say that you’re mine, Gracie.” My entire body trembled from the promise and the threat of Bradley Craig.

  “I’m yours,” I moaned. “And you’re mine.”

  �
��You’ve got me, baby.”

  He slid two fingers along each side of my clit, and teased up more arousal. He pushed a finger inside me and the egg moved against my cervix. I inhaled a quick breath as he expertly hooked the tip of his finger around the egg and rolled it out. Both the plastic sex toy and his fingers were soaked with my arousal.

  He smeared the slick lubricant onto himself, rubbing the shaft of his penis until he was hard again. He angled his cock toward the entrance of my body and pushed into me. I tilted my pelvis and he filled me—slick flesh to throbbing-hard velvet flesh.

  “Oh, God, yes,” I gasped. My hips answered his and we found a rhythm that pleased us both.

  Bradley asked more of me sexually than any man I had ever been with. He also gave more pleasure than I had ever experienced. He reached under my knees and lifted my legs over his shoulders. “So I can better pleasure you.”

  He thrust in hard and deep—angling his cock so he stroked my g-spot, demanding my surrender, my pleasure, my second climax. “Christ, Gracie, I’m ready to come again.”

  His words alone, gave me permission to let go. A crescendo of raw sensation broke over me. “Holy, fucking Christ, Bradley, don’t stop.” My vaginal walls contracted, and I rode the crest of a wave that peaked, then rolled through me. A deep, raw pleasure that lingered in the secret recesses of my body.

  Bradley tugged on the silver chain and off came the clips. A flood of circulation returned to my nipples.

  “Aaahhh.” I yelped, as pain mingled with pleasure.

  He muffled a snort and held on as a warmth settled over me. My sense of surrender and trust in this man—my lover—overwhelmed me with emotion. Tears came to my eyes, just a drop or two, which he sweetly wiped away.

  Bradley had spanked me, tied me down and fucked me harder than any man I had ever known, and all I could think about was how much I admired him.

  He rolled off me with a soft grunt of satisfaction.

  I studied the rise and fall of his chest from my post-orgasmic stupor. I even managed a tease. “Aren’t you the talented one with bedding games.”

  He reached overhead and untied me. “That is because…” He brushed a kiss over my lips. “I’m inspired.” Holding both my wrists between his hands, he rubbed the circulation back into my fingers. “Better?”

  I rolled into the hollow of his arm and lay my head on his shoulder. “Much.” Stroking his chest, my index finger followed a trail of fuzz down his belly. It felt amazing to touch him again—play with hard muscle and manly chest hair. Listen to his strong heart and the rhythm of his breathing. “My bottom is burning up and my nipples will be sore for days.”

  “My poor, abused, little one.” Bradley tilted my chin, so he could see my expression. “Do you have any lotion I could use on those smarting body parts of exquisite perfection?”

  “Arnica cream and aloe vera gel.” I smiled. “And I shall demand several applications this evening or you shall be spanked in return.”

  He pulled me close and wrapped me in his arms. “Doesn’t work that way Gracie—you’re the sub, I’m the dom.

  “Always?” I traced the outline of his lips.

  He caught and kissed my fingertip. “I’m starving, are you?”

  “Ravenous.”

  FIFTEEN

  “SUSTENANCE BEFORE SEX,” I warned him as he joined me in the shower.

  When both his hands went up in surrender, I slathered his chest with grapefruit and mint body wash.

  A handsome man in street clothes, Bradley was nothing short of dazzling in the shower. Rivulets of water trickled down his angular jaw, sculpted torso and long sinewy limbs. He rubbed against me, sharing the soap on his chest with my breasts.

  “Uh-oh, now we’re going to get slippery-horny,” I sputtered, angling my face back under the showerhead.

  His fingers tangled in my hair, cupping the back of my head. “No woman has ever aroused me like this.” Studying my face, he blinked away droplets of water. “Ever, Gracie.”

  “…Bradley…” I slanted warning eyes at him.

  “One kiss.” His mouth covered mine.

  Both his words and his kisses left me temporarily breathless. I had never felt swept away by a man in my life. I wondered if I could stand the sheer joy of such an experience. Allow myself the full rush of pleasure—ride the tiger without being torn to pieces.

  Mother’s words echoed in my head. Never give into love fully. It takes ten times as long to pull yourself back together as it does to fall apart.

  Shaking off her fear-based advice, I returned to the present, and taught Bradley the secret to the hot and cold controls. The subtle tricks one needed to learn to coax the right mix out of the temperamental plumbing.

  And my wonderful new lover spent a good deal of time drying me off and slathering soothing lotion over my sensitive bum, which surprisingly, wasn’t that sore. Gently, he circled each nipple with the gel, and the girls did stand up and take notice.

  My stomach growled. “Don’t get any ideas, we’re eating the California version of fish and chips. Only instead of those smashed peas on the side, there will be homemade guacamole.”

  Bradley laughed out loud. “You didn’t care for mushy peas?”

  I shook my head, thinking about the clump of peas that accompanied fish and chips in the UK. “What is that, some kind of feeble attempt at serving a green vegetable?”

  He dried himself off. “Perhaps the next time you’re in London, you could speak to the Queen about it.”

  We pulled on comfy sweatpants, loose tees and moved into the kitchen. Without much supervision, Bradley made a pitcher of mojitos and I sipped a citrusy-mint cocktail while pan-frying the fish.

  An hour later, we lingered at the dining table, nibbling on chips and salsa.

  “Hard to believe fish tacos could be so delicious.” He popped a last morsel of fish and tortilla into his mouth. “How many did we have?”

  “Like, about eight.” I grinned. “You should try my grilled shrimp and scallop fettuccine with lemon cilantro pesto.”

  He stared at me. “Who taught you to cook, did you take lessons?”

  I shook my head. “Mother was an amazing cook when she wasn’t depressed or otherwise unreachable—like falling-down drunk.”

  Bradley settled back in his chair. When I didn’t further explain he arched a brow. He obviously wanted to know more and I debated how much to tell him.

  “We barely know each other. Do you really want to hear this?”

  “I suppose we could talk about the weather.” He emptied his glass and set it down. “Let me assure you, my childhood will never be featured in Parenting magazine.”

  He was right, of course, I was being insular and overly wary. My gaze settled on the man across the table. “All of us kids, especially my younger brother and sister, endured a few rough years after Dad left. Mom drank more, slept more—sometimes she didn’t get out of bed for days.”

  I told the story about waking up with the cupboards bare. Sneaking money and keys out of my mother’s purse and driving down the hill to Gelson’s, the neighborhood market, for cereal and milk. “Leah had already started college, I tried to take care of Hale and Carly, but it was too much. My grades started slipping.”

  “How old were you?”

  “Thirteen and fourteen were the worst years. Dad moved south, took a new position as head of Neurosurgery at UCSD Medical Center. He bought a house in La Jolla, got himself a new girlfriend with a giant boob job.” My gaze finally connected with my new lover’s stare. “I hated him for abandoning us.”

  Bradley winced a bit. I wondered how much of my story history matched his own. There were so many question marks with him—his childhood, his marriage, his daughter.

  Five days ago, we had met in the dark and gone from a quick grope to sex of such profound intimacy, the experience had left me satiated beyond belief with tears in my eyes.

  A spooky, instant kind of bonding had happened with Bradley. And without having to ask, I
knew he felt the connection as well. A powerful magnetic force continually pulled us together, and the message seemed clear. Bradley and I were inevitable.

  I exhaled a sigh. “Mother drifted in and out of depression for several years. Dad prescribed an assortment of mood elevators and anti-anxiety meds.” I rolled my eyes. “Eventually, I began to resent her.”

  “For her failure to mother.” Bradley emptied the mojito carafe, pouring each of us a last half glass.

  My gaze met his. “You know what it feels like.”

  His tight-lipped grimace said it all.

  “The first year was the worst. Year two things got better. Leah transferred to UC Irvine and came home. Together, the two of us managed pretty well. Then Mom found a therapist she liked, along with the right combination of meds.”

  Bradley’s phone rang. I recognized the ringtone from the elevator.

  “It’s Claire. I need to take this. She left me a message earlier, something about Liv and Hannah.”

  My mouth dropped open. “They’ve been talking?”

  He nodded. “Claire, what’s up?” After a brief silence the high-pitched squawking began. “Hannah Hoffman, yes I know her. She’s the niece of a friend.” Bradley met my gaze across the table. “Yes, someone I’m seeing. What’s going on?”

  I stacked a few plates and he reached across the table for my hand. “Hold on—” He muted his phone. “I’ll help with the dishes.”

  I settled back and listened to one side of the phone conversation. Apparently the girls were getting on famously, but they were chatting well past Liv’s bedtime.

  “There’s a simple solution. Take her phone away after nine.”

  I sipped my mojito and winked.

  Apparently it wasn’t so simple.

  “Hannah?—she’s a lovely girl. A bit lonely, I think. She’s been going through a difficult patch since she lost her mother.” Bradley’s gaze returned to me. “Crossing the street—hit and run.”

  The squawks softened.

  “I thought it would be nice for Liv to have a friend here as well. Frankly, I’m glad they’re getting on so well. Yes, I’ll speak to both Liv and Hannah.”