[Siren Allure: Erotic Consensual BDSM Romance, with F/F elements, voyeurism, food play, whipping, spanking, sex toys, HEA]
Graduate student Ashley Dixon needs $10,000 to bail her dad out of jail for allegedly robbing an ATM. Randy’s Diner—a place people go to receive “service with little more than a smile”—promises to be the perfect job to earn cash. If only Ashley can get over the scandalous things the waitstaff and customers do over an order of a burger and fries.
Divorcé Oliver Clarke is accustomed to dominating both in his professional life as CIO at a Fortune 1000 company and also in the BDSM scene. He knows he’s found his ideal submissive after one look at the wholesome little waitress inside his favorite diner. First Oliver must rein in his desire before he frightens away his new obsession.
Ashley is faced with a tough choice. Can she accept being Oliver’s slave for cash to free her dad, or will she need more?
A Siren Erotic Romance
“You’re not a pervert,” Ashley insisted.
Mr. OC laughed. It wasn’t the soft snuffle he’d made a few times or the raucous chortle of the drunken men she’d had on her last shift. He’d opened his mouth into what looked like a wicked smile and chuckled at a regular volume. “You haven’t seen inside the duffle bag I left in my car.”
That shut her up immediately.
“I joined the local scene,” he went on. “I had a few relationships with women who were interested in BDSM. It just never felt quite right. They were either women who had belonged to some other master for years and wanted me to be him, or they were interested in only a little vanilla sex spiced up with a spank here and there once a week. I need someone who will go all out with me.”
Ashley knew this tale was for her benefit rather than a cathartic narrative. She responded accordingly. “I’m sorry, but I can’t go all out with you.”
“Can’t,” he echoed, “or won’t?”
“I have a life. I can’t drop everything to be your sex slave.”
Mr. OC’s eyebrows arched. “I said nothing about being my slave.”
She noted he hadn’t taken sex off the table, only the slave portion. Ashley shook her head anyway. “You want me to jump when you say jump.”
He set the hamburger aside as a slight smile curved his lips. “I haven’t asked you to jump…yet.”
Ashley nearly growled when she noted his amused tone and that smug little smile. He was going all arrogant on her again. She opened her mouth to blast him when he wiped his fingers off on his napkin, and then pushed away from the table so he could pat his lap.
An invitation. She knew it. But she wasn’t going to sit on any arrogant jerk’s lap.
“Sit here, and I’ll explain the difference between a slave and a submissive.”
He didn’t say please. And he was still smirking. But she was intrigued by the idea that there were levels of people in this “scene” of his. Why hadn’t she found that in her research?
She nearly laughed when she recalled she’d been too focused on the pain he could cause that she hadn’t delved too much into the different roles. So Ashley got to her feet. And then carefully settled her bare bottom atop his crisp black slacks.
* * * *
“There is much debate in the scene,” Oliver began once her little ass was securely set upon his lap. He liked her here, nearly cuddled into him. The hamburger on the plate was all but forgotten. “But in a nutshell, a slave is someone who gives up complete control to their dominant. Most are required to submit their entire lives to the pleasure of their master’s wishes. And in the majority of the case, no safe words are allowed between master and slave.”
He should have given her a chance to choose a safe word but he’d feared she’d refuse him altogether. This little waitress needed to be eased into the scene.
Oliver went on, “A submissive is nearly everyone else who isn’t a dominant. The distinction is so broad it’s difficult to say much more than that.” Cautiously he slipped his palm around her waist, loving the feel of his hand spanning her narrow middle. “I’m not looking for a slave. I don’t want someone who will be completely dependent upon me. I want a partnership. But I’m also not looking for a temporary arrangement in which I share my submissive with others.”
“You want a girlfriend who won’t call you a pervert when you whip out the nipple clamps at dinner.”
Oliver was so flummoxed by the sweet little thing’s sudden outburst that he could only sit staring at the side of her face. She was watching the floor as if there was something of great interest there. He found his eyes tracing the direction of her gaze to see if there was. It appeared a collection of tiles like the others.
He thought it was important he choose his words carefully with this one. As he contemplated which to use in order to persuade her to agree, he realized he’d begun this conversation far too early. She’d experienced a mere spanking. She had no inkling of what else he’d want of her. It wasn’t fair to either of them to continue this discussion now.
And so he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “What I want right now is to bring you to the edge of orgasm but withhold it because you were a bad girl.”
Her breathing quickened, lifting her chest higher. “That’s not nice,” she whispered, hardening his dick in an instant.
“And I want permission to unbutton your shirt,” Oliver added. Thankfully his soft volume hid his hoarse voice.
A small gasp emitted from her gently parted lips. He thought about pushing his finger in her mouth and rubbing her tongue until she sucked on it. Seeing her breasts up close was more important.
Slowly she nodded her head—the permission he’d needed. With his palm still holding her waist, he used his left hand to unfasten the first of the clear plastic discs at the collar of her white shirt. Their next inhalation together was labored.
He thought of doing this somewhere private. Of how he’d undress her in his lap like the cherished creature she was, and then he’d redress her in leather tooled with his initials. Those honey waves would look perfect cascading over a red-leather bustier.
Oliver quickly revealed she was wearing a delicate white lace bra beneath her shirt. The undergarment had a front clasp that would allow him access once he had permission to go that far. He steadily pulled the shirt from the band of her skirt so he could finish his unfastening. Her pert breasts lifted at an increasing speed as he did.
Quietly he whispered into her ear, “Do you want me to touch them?”
Oliver readied his chip for when the number was called. And then he called out her initial—precious little “A.”
She smiled as he handed off the chip and then fell into step beside him when he reached her.
“I’m A. I’ll be your server today.” Her lean, pale limb gestured to the dining area. “You can choose from the available seating.”
Oliver hesitated, unsure if he should give in to his urge to be alone with her or continue proving to them all he could be trusted. It was too important she come to trust him. He strode for the table he’d chosen at the middle.
In his peripheral vision he caught the lowering of her shoulders. Was she upset? Had she wanted him to take her to the private area? Oliver paused to grab her hand in his, entwining his fingers with hers.
“Is this all right?” He carefully scanned her features for the truth. The furrowed forehead and drooping eyes implied she was indeed dismayed, but she quickly smiled again to hide it. He didn’t want her hiding anything from him.
“If it’s what you think is best.” The pretty little thing held her brave smile. “Then it’s all right with me.”
He couldn’t help but squeeze her hand to bring her closer. Quickly he sat so he could bring her into his lap facing him. Almost with a mind of their own his fingers sliced through her silky hair. Oliver murmured near her ear, “I want you to trust me.”
Despite what she’d said, she didn’t truly trust him, not at the level he needed. That level of trust would take time.
“I know you’re not going to skin me and wear me like a suit,” she added cheekily.
Oliver stared at her in bemusement for a moment before bursting into laughter. “Why would I do that? I like the woman inside the skin far, far too much.”
Her pretty lips spread wider. He itched to kiss her so badly, to claim her mouth as his.
She must have caught the direction of his gaze for she leaned her head closer to his and whispered, “You can kiss me if you like.”
“I’d like to. But not yet. You’re not ready.”
“How can I be ready for an orgasm and spanking but not a kiss?”
His eyebrows arched at her indignant tone. Her skin immediately flushed and warmed beneath him.
“I’m sorry, sir,” she quickly replied to his silent scolding.
Oliver brushed his knuckles over her satiny cheek. “A kiss means more to me than any old orgasm.” He held her gaze intently until he was certain she was focused on him. “I want our first kiss to be something you’ll remember on your deathbed.”
Her lips parted and a soft, “Oh,” escaped them.
Almost. She’d almost made him kiss her. But it didn’t feel right. Not yet.
“Read me my rules and rights, little girl, while I check that you heeded my command.” His fingers went to the first button on her crisp shirt.
His waitress’s voice was shaky and soft. “Shirt, skirt, and shoes are required at all times,” she said even as he began divesting her of one of those. “Oral, vaginal, or anal sex is not allowed inside Randy’s.” The words were spoken like a complaint in a sulky tone.
Oliver spread the shirt enough to dip his fingers within. The pad of his index finger quickly found her taut, bare nipple. He smothered a groan.
She inhaled a quick gasp before she began anew. “Before I take your drink order I have to read you your rights. You have the right to the best burger, fries, and onion rings in the city. You have the right to enjoy yourself. You have the right to get comfortable. You have the right to touch anything you like.”
“I am,” he rumbled against her neck.
Her arms wrapped around him for the remainder of her speech. “You have the right to make suggestions on how I may serve you.”
“Randy expects his waitstaff to be tipped according to service levels. There is a suggestion card at the back of the menu. Do you have any questions?”
“Have I tipped you well enough, little girl?”
Her hot breath on his neck drove him to distraction. He wanted to unzip his pants and thrust into her tight, hot little pussy more than he wanted his heart to thump its next beat. Maybe he ought to have her keep her panties on this time.
Oliver finished unfastening her shirt to distract himself from his need. He curved his palm over her breast, feeling the perfect fit of her satin mound on his rough skin. His other hand slipped beneath her ass to cup another perfect portion of her body. Without thinking he brought her forward, grinding her pelvis against his. His erection honed in on what he could already tell was hot and slick.
“Oh,” she moaned against his chest. “That feels so good.”
“You weren’t bad, but I have to spank you. Okay?”
Oliver’s body shook from her soft reply. His palm released her only to smack down atop her soft flesh. She shuddered and moaned, and then used her arms to pull her pelvis closer.
“Oh god,” he exclaimed, unable to quiet himself.
“I was so bad,” she whispered in his ear. “I soaped my breasts in the shower for five minutes contemplating ignoring your command. You should punish me.”
Imagining her wet and soapy thinking of him was such a wicked taunt that he simply had to give her what she wanted. Oliver brought his palm back to spank her three times more in quick succession. Her startled gasps lifted in volume with each. But it was her needy moan when he began massaging the sting out that did him in.
Oliver’s dick strained his pants so tightly it hurt, but he ignored the discomfort in his quest to get closer to her. His fingers pushed the lace of her panties into the crack of her ass, kneading her warm cheek deeper. She responded with another moan. Naughtily her hips rocked against his.
He thought he’d go out of his mind as she ground against him all on her own. Dear god. How would he keep from fucking her when she was mimicking the act with their clothes on?