Anything She Wants Read online

  “Of course.” I hide behind my best poker face. The last time Robin and I tried a case together, I had to hit a punching bag for at least an hour every night to decompress. The woman is a delight to look at but a pain to work with. It’s obvious that she thinks having the cheekbones of an angel makes her the best lawyer in the firm.

  I can’t stand her, but I can’t keep my eyes off her either. Every day she wears another pristinely starched designer blouse, open at the throat, and while I’m sure the direct view at the hollow of her neck influences some jury members, I wouldn’t exactly call it expertise.

  “I look forward to it.” Robin shoots me a mechanical smile—she saves the heartwarming ones for court. Today’s blouse is baby blue, bringing out the clear colour of her eyes.

  I vow to not let her boss me around this time. To not let her take control the way she always does.

  “That’s settled then.” Bruce ends the staff meeting. Chairs scrape against the floor. I take a deep breath before standing up.

  “My office in ten?” Robin asks. She towers over the table. I follow the line of her cleavage because it’s impossible not to. It doesn’t give anything away though. Robin is all about suggestion.

  “Sure.” At least I’ll have a few minutes to compose myself and check which case we’re meant to crack together.

  I shuffle out of the conference room behind Robin and can’t help but inhale a whiff of her perfume. I’ve been trying to figure out which one it is—sniffing endless scented paper sticks at Sephora—but I’m a much better lawyer than I am a detective.

  Nine minutes later I knock on her open door.

  “Come,” she says, her voice measured and authoritative. She sits behind her desk like a queen on a throne, illuminated by light streaming from giant windows. Robin started at the firm barely a month before I did, but she’s always had a knack for securing things well above her status. My office is spacious and light, but not nearly as big and bright as Robin’s. No matter how hard I try—and sample different dry cleaners—my suits are never as crisp as hers. And my nerve always seems to crumble when I’m within three feet of her.

  I sit down in a chair opposite her desk without being invited.

  “Would you mind closing the door, please?” Robin’s eyes rest on me, a tight smile tugging at her lips. I know she waited for me to sit so she could ask me to get up again. It’s how alpha females like Robin assert their power—with the small things that get under people’s skin the most.

  “Sure.” I stand and turn. Before I head for the door, I tug my skirt down to draw her attention to my legs. In situations like this, they’re the only thing I have going for me. My legs are the reason why I so easily agreed to meet in Robin’s office. I’ll get to cross and uncross them while on full display, as opposed to hidden under a desk.

  I sway my hips a bit when I walk back to my chair. Her eyes follow me, but she doesn’t flinch. I cross one leg over the other and lean back, legal pad with notes on the case ready in my lap.

  We both start speaking at the same time and one of those awkward moments ensues. A small crack appears in her veneer, allowing the beginning of a silly grin to peek through. She dips her head slightly and I take it as a sign that I should continue.

  “I think…” I need to glance at my notes. I’m thrown by the unexpected curve of her lips and the twinkle of amusement in her eyes. Just like that, the image flashes through my mind again. The image I fall asleep to most nights. Robin’s blouse a crumpled heap on my bedroom floor. Robin face down on my bed, her wrists and ankles bound so she can’t move.

  “Take your time.” The smile she sends me is so condescending it makes my blood boil. It also makes the picture in my head spark to life again in vivid colour.

  “Let’s start with the witness list.” I quickly regroup. “This doctor…” I glimpse at my notes again. “Barnes. He seems—” The beep of her mobile interrupts me. Robin holds up one finger as she scans the screen. Frustration builds in my gut. Not just because of the way she treats me, but also because of how her hair slides off her forehead as she tips her head, and how her eyes narrow while she reads the text message. I envision her looking at me like that. Her eyes narrowing for different reasons and her hair clinging to her forehead in sweaty strands. It’s not easy wanting someone you dislike so much.

  “I have to go.” She pushes herself out of her chair. “Jury’s out.”

  “I’ll be in court all afternoon.” My body relaxes. “Let’s reschedule tomorrow.”

  “No. We need a strategy before the next staff meeting.” She slides her suit jacket off the back of her chair. “Are you free tonight?”

  She slips her arms into the sleeves of her blazer, her chest jutting out in the process, and I have an idea. “Why don’t you come to mine?”

  Her eyes widen in surprise, but I know she won’t say no. Her alpha code won’t let her. “I’d love to. Around eight?”

  “Perfect.” I uncross my legs and stand up. Robin is tall, but I have at least an inch on her.

  “Great.” I watch her strut out of her office, chin up and back straight, as if the world would end if she were to relax a muscle.

  * * *

  I’m still in my heels when Robin rings my bell. Usually, I can’t wait to get out of them as soon as I set foot in the house, but I’m planning for a hard-fought battle in which details like shoes can make all the difference.

  “Nice place,” Robin says as I open the door wide for her. I wish I could see beyond the mask of her face, beyond the standard compliments, to learn what she really thinks. After all, I’m always courteous with Robin as well, always professional, never letting on that I want her body writhing beneath me in my bed. I may think I hate her as much as I want to, as much as I need to make myself feel comfortable, but the truth is that we’re so alike, both so driven, competitive and ruthless, and I never wanted anyone more. It’s not just her regal posture and cool, impenetrable glare that draw me to her—the distance she puts between herself and everyone she deems beneath her. It’s what I suspect lies underneath.

  One day, when she finally does, I want to be there when she cracks.

  I gesture for her to take a seat in the sofa, but she heads straight for the dining room table, indicating this is not a social visit.

  “Red or white?” I hold up two empty wine glasses.

  “Do you have anything stronger?” She digs inside her briefcase and slips out a folder.

  “Whiskey?” My heels click loudly on the tiles as I make my way to the liquor cabinet.

  “Oh god, yes please.” A chill chases up my spine as she says the words. I realise that the second she sees through me—the instant she figures out what I really want—I will have lost.

  I pour us both a double and sit down at the table at a ninety degree angle from her. She tilts her head back as she sips and the muscles in her neck stretch so gracefully, I nearly finish my glass in one gulp.

  “Rough time in court?” She eyes my half-empty glass.

  “Just in general.” The smell of the whiskey blends with her perfume and I try to recall my plan of action. Then I remember it wasn’t so much a plan as a vague idea. Get her to come to my house. Divert the conversation. Have a drink or two.

  As if.

  “Do you mind if I take off my shoes?” She doesn’t press me for more information on the roughness of my day.

  “Go right ahead.” I hear two quick thuds on the floor beneath the table.

  She takes another sip of her glass and our eyes connect over the rim. I don’t look away. I hold her gaze until my blood starts hammering in my veins. Do I have her where I want her already? The image flashes through my mind again. Robin’s back arched, her bottom curved towards me, begging for more.

  “Everything all right?” The glass lands on the table with a quiet bang, bursting me out of my reverie. Her voice is curt as usual. Her tone doesn’t imply that she expects an answer. She’s all business again.

  “Can I ask you a personal
question?” I trace a fingertip over the rim of my glass.

  She leans back in her chair. I hear the fabric of her skirt rustle as she shifts her legs. “Why?”

  A tiny giggle makes its way out of my throat. “God, you’re tough.” I heel my shoes off and inch my feet closer to hers underneath the table. “Don’t you ever get tired of it?” As I speak the last word, my toe brushes against her naked ankle.

  She doesn’t even blink. “Why am I really here?” She doesn’t retract her foot. Her blue eyes scan mine as she crosses her arms over her chest.

  “The same reason you go anywhere, I presume.” My toe travels up her shin. “Work.” I tip my upper body over the table towards her.

  “This doesn’t feel like work to me.” Her eyes are still on mine. They burn with something new, something exciting, while the rest of her expression doesn’t alter.

  “What does it feel like?” I trace my foot down again and catch her ankle between my soles. I realise I’m nowhere near drunk enough for this degree of audacity.

  At last, she manages a smile. “I suppose I should say ‘incredibly inappropriate.’” Suddenly, one of my own ankles is trapped between her feet. She presses hard, making a point I don’t really want to get. “But.” She uncrosses her arms and slants her body in my direction. Her face is so close I can feel her breath. “Maybe I should teach you a lesson instead.”

  My pulse quickens; my breath stops in my throat.

  “What do you think, Kate?” She pauses, relaxing her muscles, freeing my ankle.

  I nod because I can’t speak. My mouth goes bone-dry. This is not exactly what I wanted to happen, but I’ll take it.

  “Good.” She pushes her chair back. I do the same. We both stand up at the same time. With one quick step she’s by my side, curling her fingers around my wrist. She seems taller than me now, more commanding. My brain stops thinking of ways to get the upper hand. “Where’s the bedroom?”

  I walk us through the hallway to my room where the blinds are half-drawn. I head towards the window to close them.

  “No.” She stops me with one word. “Turn around.” Her tone is not one to mess with. “Strip.”

  I should have known this would be the only outcome if I made a move on her. With trembling fingers I unbutton my blouse. My skin pricks up into gooseflesh under Robin’s gaze. My nipples poke against the lace of my bra as I unzip my skirt and let it fall to the floor. I stand in front of her in just my underwear—my clit a throbbing mess—and suddenly feel self-conscious about removing it.

  “I want you naked.” Robin’s voice has changed, but her demeanour has not. “Now.”

  I want to make it sexy, strip slowly, but I can’t. I’m fully under her command, and get rid of my underwear swiftly. The air hits my nipples and they crinkle into even harder peaks.

  Robin tilts her chin with a tiny nod of approval. Already, I want more. She shifts her gaze towards the bed. “Lie down on your belly and don’t move until I say so.”

  I crawl onto the bed and do as I’m told. My breath comes out in shallow puffs. Behind me I hear the rustling of clothes being taken off. I wonder if she’s naked and if she’ll allow me a glimpse.

  “Spread your legs and arms wide.”

  I feel her climb onto the bed with me. I stretch my arms over my head and part my legs. I watch how she ties my right hand to the bed frame with my bra and my left one with what I assume is hers. My ankles are submitted to the same treatment. From the feel of starched cotton and tiny buttons against my skin, I guess she’s using our blouses to fasten them.

  I want to snicker at the irony of the situation, at the foolish boldness of my dreams, but I choose to stay as quiet as possible.

  “Now, tell me, Kate.” The mattress dips again and her voice comes from behind. My backside is on full display for her and I imagine her eyes roaming across my skin. “What have you been dreaming of?” Suddenly, her body covers mine. Her hard nipples prod against my shoulder blades and her lips brush against my neck. “And remember.” She trails her tongue along the outline of my ear. “This is no time for dishonesty.”

  I’m overwhelmed by the abundance of skin she piles on me, by her closeness. All I can manage is a ragged moan as I feel her bush tickle my back.

  “What’s it going to be?” She asks again. “If you don’t tell me, I won’t do it.”

  “Spank me,” I whisper, but my voice is too hushed for her to hear.

  “Can you say that again, please?” Her knee grazes my pussy lips. “Loud and clear.”

  “Spank me.” The words come out strangled, my voice already shot to pieces.

  “Oh, I will.” She’s all over me and I want to grind my clit against the mattress to release the tension from my muscles, but I know better. “And you know why?”

  I nod into the duvet.

  “If you’re so clever, you’d better tell me.” Robin’s voice is not all menace—it’s tinged with a quiet thrill, with tiny bursts of exhilaration

  “Because I deserve it.” I know this game so well. I’ve played it in my head a thousand times. The only difference being that I was doing the questioning then.

  “Good.” She lifts herself away from me, leaving my skin hot and abandoned. I sense how she positions herself between my legs, near my ankles, far enough to gain momentum for a forceful blow.

  “Count.” Her hand lands on my behind much harder than I had anticipated. She means business. I should have known.

  It stings too much for me to utter the number immediately. Despite not being able to see her, I notice her impatience.

  “I’m waiting.” The edge in her voice makes my blood beat faster towards my clit.

  “One.”

  Before I have the chance to gather my thoughts, her palm connects with my butt cheek again—the same one. My body tenses, my wrists pulling at their restraints.

  “Two,” I barely manage, my voice stifled by the duvet I’m biting into. Pain tumbles through my body and my pussy drizzles juice.

  She gives me two quick, softer slaps on the other cheek.

  “Three. Four,” I count.

  The fifth one elicits such a loud groan from me, she lets me get away with not counting out loud. She knows she has me. She’s had me from the start.

  The skin of my rear burns, but I want more. Of course, she doesn’t give it to me.

  With the back of her hand, she caresses my cheeks, causing more wetness to trail down my legs. I feel her shuffle closer and arch my back to lift myself towards her—just as I had imagined her doing for me.

  Fingers graze my opening, lingering briefly, before plunging inside. The pain, the frustration, the agonising competition between us, all of it is released from me as she twists her fingers deep inside of me.

  She withdraws her fingers and lands another blow. All the muscles in my body contract, only to relax in blissful agony as she pushes her fingers back inside.

  Slap. Thrust. Slap. Thrust.

  I’ve long forgotten about counting as my mind frazzles to Robin’s ruthless rhythm. Each stroke of her hand brings me closer, and every pang of pain is immediately rewarded with the glorious sensation of her fingers in my cunt.

  Bound and totally at her mercy, the orgasm takes me. I spasm around her fingers, wanting to keep her inside of me. My skin tingles and aches for more of her. A different image floats through my brain as the final crash of climax leaves me spent. The image of what’s taking place in my bedroom right now.

  Robin quickly unties me and lies down next to me. She kisses my forehead with surprising tenderness. “There’s only room for one alpha female in our firm. I hope you know that.” She smiles before she takes me in her arms and pulls me close.

  About the authors

  ERZABET BISHOP has been crafting stories since she could first pound keys on her parents’ old typewriter. She is a contributing author to several anthologies. Her newest release is the first in the Erotic Pagans Series: Beltane Fires. Follow her reviews at erzabetsenchantments.blogspot.com
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  LAILA BLAKE is a bi-lingual German native with an MA in Applied Linguistics, working as a writer and translator in Cologne. She spends her days listening to folk music and penning character-driven romance and erotica. Her debut novel By the Light of the Moon came out in April 2013.

  VANESSA DE SADE is a forty-something full-figure gal who likes to write hot stories about real women exploring the darker regions of their own sexuality. She is the author of Melancholia Falls and other popular novellas and stories; plus the collections Rubyfruit Jungle and Nude Shots. A collection of her erotic fairy tales will be published later this year and she is currently trying her hand at a YA novel.

  SARAH ELLEN lives in Bristol, England and has been previously published in Hot & Bothered: Short Short Fiction on Lesbian Desire, Island Girls Tropical Lesbian Erotica & Best lesbian Erotica 2011. She enjoys exploring the shameless freedom that writing erotica provides—a means of savouring exquisite affairs whilst remaining steadfastly faithful to her partner of 22 years.

  LUCY FELTHOUSE (lucyfelthouse.co.uk) is a very busy woman! She writes erotica and erotic romance in a variety of subgenres and pairings, and has over seventy publications to her name, with many more in the pipeline. These include Best Bondage Erotica 2012 and 2013, and Best Women's Erotica 2013.

  ARIEL GRAHAM lives, writes and runs in the Northern Nevada foothills and desert. She's never met a zombie there, but she's seen big cat tracks and gone the other way. Her work has appeared in Cleis Press anthologies such as Serving Him, Best Lesbian Romance, Please, Sir and Please, Ma'am, and on Oysters & Chocolate, Clean Sheets and Torquere.

  KAY JAYBEE has written The Voyeur (Xcite 2012), Making Him Wait (Sweetmeats, 2012), The Perfect Submissive (Xcite, 2012), Digging Deep (Xcite, 2013), A Sticky Situation (Xcite 2012), Yes Ma’am (Xcite, 2011), and The Collector (Austin & Macauley, 2012).