Initiating Amy Page 8

  “Good plan.”

  Amy leaned in to look at the list again. Lance leaned in at the same time, and their cheeks met. She felt the light stubble of his cheek on hers. Lance turned his face to her cheek, kissing it. Amy was shocked and thrilled at the same time. The shock of it made her pull her head back quickly. She could feel the heat rushing to her face. Her skin was so pale that she knew he would see her blush. She slid backwards off of the stool, standing, blushing.

  Lance remained seated, swinging around to look at her. “I’m sorry, I thought you would be okay with that.”

  “No. Yes.” Amy was flustered. “Yes, I am. I just didn’t expect it.” She remained standing in front of him, looking him in the eye.

  Lance slid off the stool and stood up. Amy didn’t raise her gaze as he stood, preferring to stare straight forward at his broad chest. She began to breathe deeply, trying to calm her racing heart. She didn’t know what he would do next, but she was excited to find out.

  Lance reached out his right arm and wrapped his hand around the back of her neck. He was strong, and he easily drew her into him. As she came forward, he bent his head, his lips meeting hers. They kissed a long time, the softness of his lips contrary to the forcefulness with how he kissed her. He released her lips but kept his hand on her neck.

  “Are you okay?”

  Amy opened her arms and threw them around his chest. He pulled her in tight. His chest and shoulders were so broad. “Yes,” she breathed. She held him tight, breathing him in, smelling his musk, his masculinity. She was holding on, not sure what to do next.

  Lance knew what to do. He eased her off him, holding her at the shoulders. She continued to stare at his chest. He put his hand under her chin, raising her face to look at him. He was smiling. She smiled back.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. “You’re shaking. Are you cold?”

  “No. I’m fine, really, I am.”

  He had an amused expression on his face. “If you want, we can just work on the list, make a few calls, maybe order in. I’m a terrible cook.”

  His words calmed her. “This big kitchen and you can’t cook.”

  “It’s all for show.” Lance released her shoulders, reaching for the laptop.

  “What are you doing?” There was more alarm in Amy’s voice than she expected.

  Lance looked puzzled. “The list?”

  “No list.” She surprised herself.

  He stood looking at Amy, realizing that she had no desire to work on the list.

  Looking back at him, Amy saw something in his look change. He squinted a little, his mouth becoming pouty. He reached out a hand and grabbed her at the front of her blouse. With one quick jerking motion, he pulled on it, popping the top three buttons, causing her to fall forward at the same time.

  “No list,” he said, pulling at her shirt again, popping off the remaining buttons. The buttons at her wrists held, so when Lance pulled down her shirt, exposing her red lace bra, she was bound at the wrists. He spun her around, pulling on the shirt from behind, pulling her arms behind her. With amazing dexterity, he wrapped the fabric of the shirt three times around her wrists, tying it off in a knot. Amy was caught so off guard by this she could do nothing but stand and let it happen.

  She stood half naked, her shirt ripped off her, her wrists tied behind her, her back to Lance. Her heavy breathing caused her chest to rise and fall. Lance slowly moved around from behind her. She stood stock still, feeling his eyes on her. As he came around to stand in front of her, she saw that he wasn’t smiling any longer, his expression was serious. He stopped in front of her, standing, watching her heaving breasts. He slowly reached up a hand, looping his pointing finger into the front of her bra. He pulled her towards him with his finger. Her hands restrained behind her, helplessly she fell into his chest. He caught her and held her.

  He lowered his chin to the top of her head. “Are you okay?”

  “Okay,” Amy breathed into his chest.

  “Okay,” he repeated. He stepped away and Amy almost fell over, not expecting him to move. She stood, watching him move around to her left. She began to move her head and body to watch him motion.

  “No,” he said, forceful for the first time. “No. Look ahead. Don’t watch me.”

  Amy recognized that tone, that voice. It was the same tone he used when she sat under her desk, listening, spying on him and the woman in her office.

  Amy did as he said, looking straight ahead, past the big screen television suspended in midair, past the floor-to-ceiling plate glass windows, out over the city that spread before her. She heard him move around behind her, hearing the sound of a drawer opening and closing. He was standing behind her again. She turned her head to look.

  “No.”

  She turned to the city view once again, although not really seeing it this time, sensing his presence behind her, while sensing her own rising arousal as within. Amy felt the warmth gathering between her legs. She loved how turned on she was at this moment. Turned on by having a man strip her shirt off her and bind her wrists with it. Turned on by the sense of danger this man standing behind her posed. Tall, strong and commanding. This was it. This was what she was longing to feel all of these years, the strength and control of a powerful man. And a little bit of fear, not knowing what he was going to do next. He has barely touched her, yet she was so hot.

  “Pretty bra.”

  “Thanks.”

  Her knees buckled a little at the sound of his voice. It had taken on a new quality. There was a firmness to it now, authoritative. She could tell Lance was used to being in charge. She could get used to having him in charge.

  She felt the coldness of steel on her skin, in between her shoulder blades, followed by the snipping sound of a scissors. Lance cut her bra strap from behind and it fell to the floor. Instinctively she tried to throw her hands up to cover her breasts, but she could not, her hands were still tied behind her back. She felt a moment of helplessness, followed by excitement.

  The next thing she felt was the cold steel scissors on her skin as Lance dragged them up and down her spine. He dragged the steel the length of her back, from her shoulder blades to the small of her back, stopping just above her skirt. The scissors were cold. Her pussy was hot, her juices dripping, soaking her panties. She had never felt this way before, this combination of fear and excitement. She loved it.

  She felt a tug on the zipper to her skirt. With his free hand, Lance was unzipping it. Within moments, her skirt was down around her ankles.

  “Okay?”

  “Okay,” she echoed.

  “Step out of it.”

  She did.

  “Kick it across the room.”

  She did.

  The cold scissors slid further down, below the small of her back to the top of her ass checks. They slid further, between her ass cheeks, snipping as they went. Lance was cutting away her nylons. She heard the clink of the scissors as he put them on the island counter. She felt her nylons tight around her as he held the two separated sides. With a quick motion, he pulled them apart, ripping her nylons off her. She jerked up and back with the strength of it. Suddenly her shredded nylons came flying around her, tossed to land somewhere on the other side of the island counter.

  She squirmed. More fear, more trembling. He held her by the hips. His hands were strong. She couldn’t move.

  “Calm. Be calm.” He paused. He was gentle. “You’re so beautiful in this light, from this angle. Trust me. Be calm.”

  She settled at the sound of his voice. She trusted him. This surprised her, she barely knew him.

  He traced his fingers along her spine, following the same route the scissors did moments before. He stopped at the top of the strap to her panties.

  “Nice panties.”

  She did not respond. She was both breathing hard yet out of breath at the same time. She couldn’t respond. She was concentrating on her breathing, trying to get it under control.

  “Nice panties.” He said
it again, more forceful this time.

  “Thanks.” She breathed the word more than said it.

  She heard the snip of the scissors. She didn’t know he had picked them up again. He snipped the top band of her panties, the two ends swinging out around her hips. She was grinding her thighs together, both to accentuate the tingle that had long been building down there, as well as to hide the moisture that was now freely running down her inner thighs. Her thing panties stayed in place, wedged between her thighs.

  “Spread your legs.”

  She didn’t. She couldn’t.

  “Spread your legs.” Stronger, more forceful.

  She grew hotter, wetter. She didn’t move.

  Lance moved his left foot in between her two shoeless feet. He began to apply pressure to the inside of her feet, first the left one, then the right. She tried to resist, planting her feet firm, but he was too strong. In short order, he forced her legs apart. The thin lace thong fell from her, landing on her left foot. She felt her wetness on her toes. She felt her wetness between her legs, cooling as it was exposed to the air. She hazarded a look down at her crotch. Her short, trimmed, red pubic hair glistened.

  Lance pulled back on the blouse that bound her writs, forcing her to stand up straight.

  “Okay?” he asked.

  “Okay,” she replied.

  No sooner was the word out of her mouth than his hand was on the curve of her right ass cheek. She stood rigid now, the skin under his finger tingling at his touch, so gentle yet so strong. He traced the curve of her ass cheek, high at first, then moving down and around to the underside. She shivered at his touch. She loved it. His hand moved from below her ass to her inner thigh. She continued to shiver. She knew he could feel the juices pouring out of her. He moved his hand up the inside of her leg, getting wetter, both her and his hand. He held his hand still at the top of her thigh, where her leg met her pussy.

  Suddenly he flicked his thumb up, brushing it ever so gently against her clit, causing her to squirt her juices all over his thumb, his fingers, his hand, the kitchen floor. He held his thumb hard against her clit. She shuddered, shivered and buckled at the knees. She would have fallen over if he hadn’t had such a strong grip on the blouse wrapped around her wrists. This had never happened to her before. What was this man doing to me? Whatever it was, please don’t stop.

  He slipped his hand out from between her legs, nibbling on her neck and shoulder.

  “Okay?”

  She couldn’t speak, but knew she had to. She knew he was waiting for her reply. She nodded her head and tried to squeeze her thighs together, but he wouldn’t let her, his foot still wedged between hers.

  “Okay,” she breathed.

  She was spent, she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. She shifted her body, trying to slide on to one of the stools.

  Lance chuckled. “No, no.”

  He pushed forward on her wrists, pushing her up against the island counter. He kept one hand on her blouse, the other bending her at the waist over, leaning her over the same stool she was trying to sit on. She tried to look back at him, but as she turned her head, he reached up with his hand and turned her head away.

  “No.”

  Was she scared? Yes. Was she turned on? Hell yes.

  She heard the jingling of a belt buckle coming free. She knew what that meant. She leaned her body into the leather of the stool and opened her legs as wide as she could, waiting, anticipating, wanting. She felt it. Warm and hard, the tip of his penis pushing against the folds her swollen pussy. She slid her legs wider still and he entered her with ease. She felt him put both of his hands on her shoulders. He used his arms to drive her hard against his long, erect penis. He was fucking her hard, driving her backwards with his grip on her shoulder, driving her upwards from behind with his thrusts. He was taking her as he wanted her. She had no objection to it.

  He thrust hard and long. My god his penis was long. She held herself fast against the stool, pushing back against him as best she could. There it was, finally rising from within her, fast and rapid. Her orgasm burst forth once, soaking his crotch and the back of her legs. When he felt her coming he held her hard against his crotch, holding his penis deep inside her. Wave after wave flowed out of her. He pulled back slightly to let it flow over him, over the leather stool and onto the hardwood floor.

  After her orgasm subsided, he slid himself deeper still. She felt his penis grow inside her. She didn’t know it was possible for him to be any bigger, any deeper, but he was. She felt his strong, shuddering orgasm release inside of her.

  Spent, his body slumped on top of hers. She felt the weight of him on her as he lay against her back, his face buried in her neck and hair. He turned his head to whisper in her ear.

  “Okay?”

  Amy smiled and cooed, “Okay.”

  Chapter 5

  The next morning Amy woke with a start, sitting bolt upright in bed. In that brief moment between waking and sleep, one hard to distinguish from the other, rapid thoughts and images of her being with Lance flashed through her mind. Was it a dream? Did that really happen? She heaved a heavy sigh, falling back on her pillow, smiling. It happened, and it was good.

  She liked it. She liked how Lance took charge, took control of her. The way he spoke to her, the way he touched her, firm but gentle at the same time. She had to admit that she was a little afraid at first, but the fear made it all the more erotic. She wasn’t afraid he was going to hurt her. She didn’t fear him. Her fear stemmed from within herself. Would she be able to go where he wanted to take her? For all of her bravado and talk with Miranda and Alison about her desire to have what they had, when it was time for talk to turn into action, she feared that she would not be able to follow through.

  What she found was that it was just that, following. Once she realized that all she had to do was to make a conscious decision to follow, to follow Lance, the rest was easy. All she had to do was relax and let herself be guided by him. All she had to do was submit to him, and in submitting, allow herself the release and pleasure that came with it.

  She chuckled, realizing the cost of the evening was her new sexy underwear. It was a small price to pay for what she gained in return. She had never experienced a man like Lance before. He was so much different from Frank. Frank was a caring, careful lover, not that that was a bad thing. With Frank, she always felt that he was afraid he was going to hurt her, to break her. With Lance, there was none of that. He took her, and he took her hard. Once he decided he was taking her—thank god he decided to take her—she was his. At that moment, she knew she was his. She wanted to be his. She wanted to submit to him, willing him to take her. And take her he did.

  Last night was not enough. She wanted to give more of herself to Lance. She wanted Lance to ask more of her, to take more of her. She would give it, all he had to do was take it. She hoped he would.

  While sitting at her desk the next morning, Amy felt something was different. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Maybe it was her, maybe it was the new sense of calm that she felt. That’s what it was, a sense of calm. She showered calmly, she drank her breakfast smoothie calmly, she dressed calmly. Even her commute to work seemed calmer.

  She looked up to see Alison arriving, stepping out of the elevator and walking to her office. As she passed through the executive offices, she saw Amy and smiled at her. Amy smiled back, calmly. She lowered her eyes again, diving back into her work, calmly.

  Yet even now, the veneer of calm began to slip away. Even though she had made the decision to be Lance’s, to submit to him, was he really interested in having her? Yes, last night was amazing, but was that it? She hoped not. There was so much more she wanted to explore with Lance. He opened her up to new possibilities, it would be a shame if it stopped after only one night.

  Doubt began to creep into her mind. Did he feel the same way she did? Did he want her the same way she wanted him? He was with another woman just a few days ago, doing just about the same thing wit
h her. Maybe he wasn’t interested in being with just one person. Who was that woman anyway?

  Amy grew restless. She couldn’t concentrate. She pushed back her chair and got up from her desk. Amy knew her way around the hotel very well, both the public areas as well as the back corridors. As she set off through the back of the hotel, she wasn’t quite sure what she was trying to achieve, she simply felt a need to move. Deep down she knew she was hoping to come across Lance in her travels, to accidently bump into him, to see him and see how he reacted.

  As she made her way around the hotel she began feeling a little silly, like a swooning school girl in love with her teacher. Despite this, she carried on. If nothing else, a walk around the hotel would help clear her head so that she could concentrate through the rest of the day.

  She made her was down the corridor that lead behind the ballroom, passing the shelves of plates and stacked glass racks. She turned the corner, past the liquor room and the Chief Steward’s office. Ricardo was in his tiny office, slightly larger than a storage closet, with a window looking out over the dishwashing pit. Amy waved as she passed. Ricardo waved back. The dishwasher was in full operation, three stewards attending to the dishes from last night’s banquet and this morning’s breakfast.

  Around another corner was the main kitchen. There were two cooks on the line preparing the breakfast orders that were posted on little chits brought into the kitchen by the restaurant waiters through a swinging door that was right across from the line. Amy zigged to avoid a collision with a waitress who came flying through the door, clipping an order to the board before dashing out through the swinging door to get back to her tables.

  At the end of the line was the chef’s office, a large glass window giving full view to what was going on in the kitchen. As Amy passed the line moving towards the chef’s office, she could see Chef Carmen sitting at her desk.

  The Broadstone was lucky to have Chef Carmen. She was the youngest chef in the hotel’s history, not much older than Amy. Carmen was one of those rising stars, a chef who set aside the traditional in search of her own culinary style. After a series of successful pop-up restaurants, she opened her own twenty-five table room that quickly became exclusive and sought after, the city’s next celebrity chef. At first, Amy had no idea Alison landed her at the Broadstone. Then she found out that Carmen was another one of Warrington’s protégés. Warrington had a knack for discovering young talent and supporting them socially as well as financially. He was her financial backer as she built her career. Now she was returning the favor, helping Warrington re-establish the Broadstone as a culinary force in the city. When the chef at the Dominion left to start his own restaurant, Warrington went one step further and asked Carmen to be the creative force for both of his hotels, asking her to take on the culinary direction of the Dominion also. Carmen readily accepted, travelling between both hotels, relying heavily upon her sous chefs to manage the daily food and beverage operations.