Chapter 95

Sinead swallowed hard, following Marc from his car and up into his building.

She’d been here before, thinking they were about to ... do it.

Why the fuck was she so jittery about it now? Sex. They were going to have sex. Butt sex. Marc was going to fuck her ass.

And yet, it made her throat tighten every time she considered that they were going to ... do it.

She’d caught a ride with Jules from the station they’d been working out of that day to the bar, already knowing she’d be leaving the bar with Marc. At the time, she’d told Jules she would Uber back home or to get her car from the station afterwards, and Jules had seemed to believe her.

Then the whole conversation in the bathroom happened, and Sinead knew that her best friend had probably been fully aware of her plan from the beginning.

Marc keyed open his apartment and pushed the door open, holding out a hand again to take hers and lead her in like a gentleman. The fucker. ‘I don’t want chivalry, I want dick, ‘ she wanted to snarl at him. And then she could shove him up against the wall, yank down those expensive slacks he was wearing, and start sucking him hard.

“Another drink?” Marc offered as they were both taking off their shoes.

“I don’t need any more liquid courage, Marc,” she said. “I’m a big girl, I know what-”

She squeaked - and she hated that she could even make that noise - when he cut her off by taking her firmly by the shoulders and pressing her back against the wall. They were kissing, and she wasn’t even sure when that had started, the weight of him leaning into her fucking hot. She raked her fingers down the front of his silky dress shirt and fumbled towards his belt, but he caught her wrists, pulled them away, and then up and over her head and kept them pinned to the wall.

Sinead whined into the kiss. Like a fucking child, or a dog. If squeaking was bad, that was even worse.

Then Marc’s lips left hers, and she gasped as he buried his lip against her neck, the light stubble of his long day a pleasurable roughness as he kissed down the side and into the crook. Still, he kept her wrists pinned, and she tested whether he would let her pull them down but he kept them pinned.

“Marc,” she groaned, and he hummed a chuckle. “Marc,” she growled in irritation.

He raised his lips back to hers and silenced her with them, and it was hard for her to be mad about that.

When he finally pulled away, he left her gasping, but he frustratingly continued to hold her wrists over her head as he looked deep into her eyes.

“This would be a lot easier if I could use my hands,” she said, knowing she was edging towards the ‘bratty’ tone he’d said he wasn’t a fan of.

He smirked, stoking her frustration even more, and then openly ran his hands down her body and then back up to her lips, and finally her eyes. It was the kind of look that anyone would have called a leer, except that she wasn’t dressed provocatively unless you counted tight jeans, so it was more like he was examining her.

It made her tingle, and her breath hitch.

“Strip for me, Detective,” he ordered her, and finally let her arms drop.

It wasn’t the first time he’d asked her to do that - and it was an ask, even if he phrased it as an order. She understood that now. All of his orders were an ask. A chance to answer in the negative, to press pause. Or stop. And still, even if it was an ask, even if she’d done it before, she felt herself blushing a little nervously, and her heart beat picking up a little bit more.

“I’m not about to get another surprise guest sprung on me, am I?” she asked, already toying with the bottom of her shirt.

“Not tonight, ma petite rebelle,” Marc smiled softly. Assuringly. Truthfully.

Sinead bit both her lips for a brief moment, steeling her already wine-soaked, horny nerves, and shrugged off her leather coat, then yanked off her t-shirt to show him the lingerie bra she was wearing. Sure, she wasn’t exactly endowed with a chest that needed a bra, but she liked the feeling of wearing lingerie sometimes, and he’d bought her some before. This time it was something she’d bought, though. For this occasion. The bra was a mint green lace, cupping her little tits and giving little peaks at her pink areolas and nipples underneath, while the middle strap was a sexy little pattern in the middle of her chest.

Marc stared at her approvingly as she quickly undid her belt, her fingers fumbling once with the button on her jeans before she got them undone as well and quickly peeled them down. Then came the awkward moment of needing to really peel the tight jeans down her calves and over her feet, and Marc ended up chuckling and helped her out with a steadying hand. That revealed the matching mint green panties she was wearing. They were a bikini cut with half her butt cheeks showing, and she knew from checking in a mirror that the gemmed base of the buttplug was visible through the holes in the lace.

She paused her stripping, feeling a little awkward and silly as she posed for Marc, hoping that she could edge any amount of teasing back in his direction while he was in control and ordering her around like this. Then she turned, making sure to cock a hip and pose again, and then blushing to herself as she put both hands on the wall and arched her back, pushing her ass back at him.

He liked butts? Then he could ogle her ass. She knew what he wanted and was gonna prove she could work him just like he worked her.

Then he growled, and she was surprised when his hands slid over her sides and then her stomach, pulling her back against him. Those hands were so warm on her bare skin, but the thing her mind focused on the most was the feeling of his cock, hard in his slacks, pressing against the small of her back.

His lips found her neck again and she let out a low moan as he gently kissed down it and across her shoulder. Then she moaned again, like a fucking whore, when he raised a hand to her chin and turned her to look back over her shoulder at him, and kissed her like that.

This man was fucking dangerous.

Then he was peeling her bra off of her, the backs of his fingers slowly dragging over her stiff nipples before they popped free, and Sinead raised her arms over her head so he could pull the flimsy garment over her head. “Fuck,” she breathed out, the heady mix of the wine from earlier and her fucking horny ass making her feel like everything was heightened.

Marc dropped her bra with the rest of her clothes and swapped his lips to her other shoulder, slowly starting to kiss across it and up the side of her neck as he grabbed both her small breasts, dragging his fingers over them stiffly and sending tingles through her. Sinead grunted, letting her chin drop as she closed her eyes and just revelled in the feeling of what he was doing to her. He teased her breasts, circled her areola with his fingertips, and tugged on her nipples hard enough to make her hiccup from the mixed pleasure and pain.

If her ex had ever tried that, she would have slapped him, so why did she like it when Marc did it? Why did she kind of want him to do it again?

His hands went down her side, and she turned back over her shoulder to kiss him again.

But, only a moment after her lips found his, he pulled them away by putting pressure on her hips and the small of her back, pushing her away and to the wall again, all the way to her stiff nipples and chest getting pressed to the cool paint.

“Strip,” he ordered her again, and gave her right butt cheek and soft, underhanded smack. The clap of that little spank wasn’t sharp or loud, but it rang in her ears all the same. The shock of it reminded her of what they’d done before.

It made her wet as hell, even while she got frustrated with herself all over again - she was a grown woman, getting spanked wasn’t supposed to turn her on.

And yet, as she hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her lace panties and played at tugging them away from her hips, trying to keep some amount of control and teasing in play, when Marc gave her another spank on the other cheek, she moaned and pressed her face against the wall, feeling a little leak of her juices drip out of her horny pussy and soak the gusset of her panties.

“How the fuck do you do this to me?” she whispered, blushing when she realised she’d said it out loud.

Marc answered her by leaning his weight against her for a moment, sliding his hands up her bare back as he closed the distance and then down her arms once his chest was against her back. “It’s partially me taking what I want from a good little submissive,” he crooned in her ear. “And partially me reading your sexual wants like a book, Sinead. You tell me everything I need to know with every blush, every gasp and moan, and every shudder of your body. Not to mention your glares.” He chuckled then, and she blushed because she’d just started to glare at his cocky assuredness. “Just like that,” he smiled that fucking smile.

Then he pulled away and gave her right butt cheek another spank, this one a little firmer. “Strip, ma petite rebelle,” he told her. “Don’t make me ask again.”

“Yes, sir,” Sinead mumbled, and started to push down her panties to fully reveal the buttplug wedged into her ass, and her swamped pussy begging for attention beneath it.

She felt like a fucking slut, and with Marc, somehow that was more than OK.

Marc followed five steps behind Sinead as she walked slowly from the entrance of his home and into the main living area. He was smiling to himself because she wasn’t walking slowly after being ordered to do so, but because her legs were a little wobbly after her first orgasm of the evening.

Once she’d stripped off her panties, Marc had hugged her to him again and slid a hand down to that horny little pussy of hers, slowly teasing her lips as she gasped and danced her ass back against his hardness. A little rough nipple play, and a little light touching around her throat, a soft bite on her ear. Two fingers sliding inside of her, her horny juices dripping down to his knuckles, and her clit pinched between those two same fingers.

If someone had been walking by in the hallway of the building outside his apartment, they would have easily heard her full-throated moan of pleasure as she trembled and her knees buckled.

Marc also smiled because this was, truly, one of his favourite simple pleasures in life. A graceful woman, walking through his home, naked and horny. Now, to be fair, the same vision walking through a hotel room at a resort was just as enticing. A cruise ship cabin, a private pool or a hidden campsite would probably be just as good. But it being his home had that little extra bit of deliciousness because it was his domain.

Sinead looked over her shoulder, straightening as her legs got their full strength back and she was more sure, and she silently asked if she was heading for the stairs up to his bedroom or over into the living area. They had played in both locations, and Marc was tempted to speed things along and had directly upstairs, but gestured her into the sitting area.

He followed and caught her by the waist once they were both on the soft, shaggy rug between the couches and chairs. She let him turn her, and she was chewing on one side of her lower lip cutely, but quickly stopped and blushed at her own nerves.

“Knees, Detective,” Marc ordered.

She hesitated, just for a moment, a flash in her eyes at the use of her title. Which was, of course, exactly the reaction he’d been expecting - continuing to swap between her name, his teasing little pet name for her, and her title was a reminder that he was in charge. He chose when these events occurred, despite her position and authority outside of their negotiated relationship.

But, for all that she hesitated, and her eyes flashed in rebellion at his almost dismissive use of her title, Sinead dropped to her knees in front of him and quickly arranged herself like he’d taught her almost two months ago now. Knees spread, elbows tucked close, hands flat on her thighs. Sitting up, back slightly arched, shoulders pulled back. Chin slightly down, eyes slightly lowered.

“Good girl,” Marc said, running his fingers through her hair, and then smiling at the slight clench in the side of her jaw.

He took his hand from her and slowly circled her, appraising her posture and slightly correcting her form, before finally taking his place in front of her again. His cock was still stiff in his slacks, tenting right in front of her, and he knew he was at a crossroads - an important crossroads, actually. So far, in all of their games, they had teased back and forth between Marc being a dominant, rough dominant, and being more of a commanding, calm and collected dominant with her. He was, generally, calm and collected with Felicity unless they were in the throes of passion, but Felicity also wasn’t partially leaning towards brattiness.

Marc could take out his cock, rub it all over Sinead’s face to assert his dominance, and then press it between her lips. He could take her like that, and she would be consenting the entire way. Or he could have her take it out herself, and pay it respect, and work to service it, and him.

This milestone moment in the game that was going to culminate in the first time they had sex was going to set the tone, and correcting that tone later would require work and purposeful negotiation. On the one hand, Sinead enjoyed playing a little resistant - not to the sex, but to his dominance. And that was different from what he had with Felicity, which meant it would also provide more variety to the experience. On the other, as he’d told her, he preferred the style of BDSM of smoother, more relaxed submission from his partner. He didn’t want to feel like the relationship was contentious and a battle. He had enough tension already in his day-to-day life.

“You may take out my cock, me petite rebelle,” Marc said softly, running his thumb along the edge of her jaw and then teasing her lower lip.

Sinead glanced at him with a smile - a genuine, horny smile - and reached for his belt.

Sinead gasped, and then grunted as she pushed her lips back over Marc’s cock and took it as deep into her mouth as she could, lashing it with her tongue and sucking hard.

She felt like an absolute whore, sucking his cock like this. Sloppy. Needy. Grunting, groaning and moaning. It wasn’t just pornographic, it was nasty. She could feel her drool leaking down over her lower lip and dripping from her chin. It was on her chest. Her tears were running from squeezing her eyes shut tightly when she took him too deep at the wrong angle, and she gagged. Her nipples were so hard, and she wanted to shove three fucking fingers into her cunt and seek some relief, but Marc wouldn’t let her.