Don't Make Me Wait Read online

  CONTENTS

  TITLE PAGE

  FREE BOOK OFFER

  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  EPILOGUE

  A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR

  A SNEAK PEEK

  MORE BY THE 1203 STORIES AUTHORS

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  COPYRIGHT AND DISCLAIMER

  Don’t Make Me Wait

  Rylee Swann

  FREE BOOK OFFER

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  BOOK DESCRIPTION

  I must break her to free her...

  In an adult toy shop, I’m drawn to her, captivated. A vixen lurks beneath the torment in her eyes, and I’m compelled to proposition her. To my delight, she submits, surrendering to my dominance right there.

  That should have been it. But it wasn’t.

  When I walk into Fitness USA to conduct business for my billion-dollar health food line, she’s there—Crispell—a personal trainer. My reaction is immediate. I need her. She feels the same, I know, but she won’t let me in. Insists she’s a Domme, although I know otherwise.

  Carefully, I break down her walls, brick by beautiful brick. What I don’t expect is what lies behind that barrier. Secrets. Deep, terrible secrets.

  Now, I have a decision to make. Am I willing to risk everything to heal her? To make her my bride?

  ***Don’t Make Me Wait is a standalone novella guaranteed to steam up your Kindle. No cliffhanger and a very happy ending.***

  CHAPTER ONE

  Crispell

  I struggle up from the bowels of nightmare hell and open my eyes. Hues of a pink dawn in the eastern sky are just barely visible through the uncovered bedroom window.

  I shiver and realize I’m naked now, as I was in the horrible dream. In my thrashing, I dislodged the blanket. Reaching for it, I have a longing to touch skin not my own, to feel the warmth, but it’s been a long time since I’ve had a steady subservient.

  Sighing, I rub my eyes with the heel of one hand and then run it through my black, short hair. I don’t enjoy being alone after one of those damned nightmares. I miss Ben, the last sweet young man I played with as a Domme. He moved on, as they so often do. I need to find a new submissive to meet my needs.

  I refuse to be out of sorts from the nightmare for long and jump out of bed, redirecting my thoughts to Ben. Without a partner to share intimacies with, it’s no fun to constantly be responsible for my own orgasms.

  At the shower stall, I turn the knob on high and step under the stream. The hot water hits me like a hammer and I throw my head back, letting it beat down on my breasts and stomach, pretending it’s Ben’s hands. Almost immediately, a throbbing need pulsates between my legs. Thank god.

  Detaching the handheld showerhead, I slide down until I’m lying in the hot puddle of water, my back against the cool porcelain of the tub. I want a hard, fast release and turn the dial until a thick single stream is rushing out of the head. Throwing my legs up onto each side of the tub, my pussy is laid bare and tingling with anticipation.

  I make myself wait while I imagine Ben’s head between my legs, hovering there, his hot breath on my sensitive skin. I want his mouth on me, covering me, and I thrust the hard, steady stream between my legs. I gasp as the hot water hits my clit. It’s like Niagara is pounding down onto me and my back arches involuntarily, like when Ben would suck my clit so hard my ass would come off the bed.

  I find my nipple with my free hand and pinch, pull, twisting until it hurts. Steam surrounds me as the spray builds the pressure between my legs and I latch onto the image of Ben sucking and licking. I can barely breathe as the tidal wave builds within me.

  Thrusting my hips up to meet the constant onslaught of Ben’s tongue ravaging my clit, my eyes squeeze shut and my back arches like a contortionist.

  My insides clench, wanting a hard cock and my fantasy switches to Ben above me, sliding his member inside. He thrusts, pulling back and driving hard into me. The water never stops, never pulls back, never gives me a moment to catch my breath, and Ben doesn’t either. I bite my lip as I explode, keeping the stream on me, the impossible pressure forcing my body into a frenzy of thrashing.

  The bucking of my hips slows, and finally I relent and put down the showerhead, my chest heaving as I rest my head against the tub. I stay that way for a few minutes until my breathing regulates, my pulse slows to normal, and the tremors completely subside.

  A satisfied smile spreads across my face and I stand on shaky legs to finish my shower. Putting the showerhead back in place, I shampoo my hair and soap up my body, giving myself a few pleasing aftershocks when I wash between my legs.

  Finished, I jump out to get ready for the day, and an hour later, I’m at work.

  “Yo, Crispell!” Carlos, a fellow personal trainer calls to me as I enter the gym, Fitness USA.

  I wince as he says my full name. Everyone at the gym knows I prefer Cris. But this is a daily occurrence with Carlos and has become something of a game. “Yo right back atcha, Carlina!” I say, using the feminine form of his name. “Where’s your brother today, sweet cheeks?”

  Carlos guffaws and I raise a hand in greeting as I make my way to the women’s locker room. My first client should arrive in fifteen minutes and I want to be ready for her.

  Yeah, my name is Crispell. I make no excuses for it. My mother named me after the college dorm where I was conceived. Apparently, she attended a wild party there, had sex with several men, and didn’t know whose swimmer made it all the way to her egg, which resulted in me popping out nine months later.

  She and I didn’t get along and I left her home for good when I turned fifteen. I never looked back. As for the tormentor who caused my actual nightmares, I hope he’s dead. If I ever run into him, I’ll kill him myself. Slowly.

  Stowing my bag in a locker and making sure the laces of my sneakers are tied tight, I head back out onto the floor. The early morning rush is in full swing. Men and women at every stage of fitness, cramming in all the workout they can before going to work. I consider myself lucky that this is my salt mine.

  Spotting my client, Jaelin, I wave and motion her to a treadmill where I’ll meet her when she returns from the locker room. She nods and quickly rushes through the club, not offering a return wave or smile—not like her. I frown. Something is wrong. She’s not herself.

  As her personal trainer, I’ve known Jae for almost a year. And we’ve shared a protein shake a time or three at the in-club café after a hard workout. She’s a good egg and I hope it’s nothing that working up a good sweat can’t solve.

  Minutes later she’s at my side, her long, wavy blonde hair tied back in a low ponytail, her flawless skin a shining example of a healthful lifestyle. She’s in excellent shape and doesn’t really need me anymore but she’s always pushing me to push her, as if perfection is always just around the corner but still eludes her.

  I set the treadmill for a semi-easy five-minute jog for her warm-up but can’t ignore her red-rimmed eyes. “What’s wrong, Jae?”

  She looks away and starts walking, increasing her pace as the tread moves under her feet.

&nb
sp; “Jae?”

  She lifts a shoulder and mutters, “Nothing,” so I decide to let it go until she’s finished her warm-up.

  Five minutes later, she’s barely broken a sweat and still breathing normally. Pent-up energy has her practically hopping from one foot to the other but she’s still not meeting my eye.

  “Jae, spill it.” I step up on the side of the treadmill to let her know I’m not giving up. “I need to know what demons I should be helping you get rid of this morning.”

  She can’t hold it in any longer and tears leak in a steady stream from her crystal clear blue eyes. It’s not the first time a client has cried on me, but never at the beginning of a workout. There have even been mad dashes to the bathroom to throw up. This is new, but I think I know what she needs.

  Pausing the treadmill, I silently hold out my arms to her and she doesn’t hesitate to fall into them. Quietly sobbing while I pat her back, she stutters into my ear, “H-he broke up w-with me.”

  I sigh. This would be about a man. “You’re alright, Jae. He’s a damned fool, you know. Giving up the best thing in his life.”

  She sniffles and breaks away from me, trying to pull herself together. “Sorry.”

  I shake my head. “Don’t be. Follow me.”

  I lead her back to the women’s locker room. There’s a lounge area inside where women can relax post-workout and I invite her to take a seat. She sits, wiping tears from her face while I pull up a chair so we can talk quietly.

  “Did something happen? Did he hurt you?” I tense as I wait for her reply, worried about how bad of a breakup this might have been.

  “No, oh, no, Cris. Nothing like that. He just… just…” She’s crying again and I hand her a tissue from a box on a side table. She takes it with a wan smile. “He told me to pack up my shit. That I didn’t live with him anymore.”

  I suck in a breath and place a comforting hand on her shoulder. Men. They can be such assholes.

  “Did he give you a reason?” I keep my tone low even though I want to scream.

  She looks up at me with such sorrow that my heart contracts. “I was so stunned I was barely able to say anything to him. He just made sure I understood that we were done and then he left.”

  I wince in sympathy and make a snap decision. “I have a pullout couch you can crash on for now.” She shakes her head but I insist with an encouraging smile. “You won’t be putting me out and I’ll enjoy the company. I’m not taking no for an answer.”

  “Alright, thank you.” She sniffles and blows her nose, her lips curving upward slightly. “I think I’m ready for my workout now.”

  I shake my head. “You don’t need a workout today, you need a tub of ice cream. Meet me at my place and we’ll share one, okay?”

  She smiles and wipes her face. “I’d like that.”

  “Bring all the bags you can and later we’ll make a plan to get the rest of your stuff.” I stand and take her into another hug, wondering what I’m doing. “You’ll be okay, Jae. I promise.”

  I give her my address then send her back out to the treadmill. “Hop back on. A half-hour run does the body good.” Her smile is stronger now as she gets back on the treadmill and I set the program for a moderate hill run. “Don’t work any overtime today or by the time you get home to my place, all the ice cream’ll be gone.”

  She laughs and agrees.

  I watch until she’s hit her stride and with a wave, I take off. I know exactly what I’m going to do with my unplanned free time—go to the nearby adult toy shop. I need something new. I’ve about worn out all my toys.

  As I enter, I’m reminded how much I love this store. It’s clean, well stocked, and I never feel like a creep while browsing. The clientele is upscale—horny housewives, businessmen seeking gifts for their lovers, and the occasional gawkers, usually teenagers. Then there are my kind of people, those living the lifestyle. People who enjoy giving and receiving pain to test their boundaries, who crave the give and take of complete control, who like dressing up in leather and fishnet and wielding whips or having their nipples clamped.

  I head to the large selection of oversized dildos. I’d known soon after my less than stellar cherry popping experience that vanilla sex simply wasn’t for me. He and I—I loved his name, Keith like in The Partridge Family—did the deed a few more times but it was never as satisfying as I’d hoped and expected it to be. Then I stumbled upon a movie called Exit to Eden. Big stars, big director, awful movie—yet, I secretly loved it. It was my introduction to BDSM, and I never looked back.

  Browsing the dildos, I pick up a couple for closer examination. A gigantic one called The Boss and a pink monstrosity with lots of pulsating button options. Ah, decisions, decisions. Holding both in my hands, a little shiver runs through me and awakens my clit. I lick my lips and shut my eyes for a moment, imagining how they’ll feel as I press them between my legs and slowly… slowly, push them inside me, one after another. Their length and thickness filling me… I force my eyes open and quickly lower my head, hoping no one noticed my little daydream.

  I want both dildos but the Pink Pulsator will be too noisy. With a sad little smirk, I put it back on the shelf and quickly make my way to the lingerie section. I need an excuse to use the dressing room. I’ll purchase whatever I use but I’m feeling oh so naughty.

  I’m already wet and looking forward to a little illicit playtime.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Dominic

  I’ve barely had time to drink my coffee before Cynthia, my secretary, is buzzing to remind me about the meeting about to start in conference room one.

  Exhaling a long breath, I take a sip of the scalding black liquid and check my Rolex. It’s 8:45 a.m. and I silently curse whoever scheduled a nine a.m. meeting in the first place.

  I usually don’t mind. I’m a morning person by nature and prefer to get as much business as I can done before noon, but today… today, I’m just not feeling it. Today, I’d rather sit at my desk and drink a leisurely cup of joe.

  Hell, I’m the boss—the CEO and owner of Longo Foods—and could easily pull rank to cancel the meeting. But I have to set the example. Around here I’m known as a harsh but fair taskmaster, so canceling a meeting without justification would draw attention to the fact that I just don’t feel it.

  I stall by rifling through a couple of folders, but Cynthia won’t let me get away with putting it off. She marches into my office and stops in front of my desk with her hands planted on her hips. She looks like a becoming, gray-haired Wonder Woman in that stance.

  “Dom, this is no way to keep up with a packed schedule. What’s keeping you?”

  I look up at her with a smirk that turns into a genuine smile. I love this woman like a surrogate mother. She’s been with me since I was a nobody and she always had faith that one day I’d hit the bigtime.

  “I’m on my way, Cyn.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re sitting there like a lazy S.O.B. What gives, kiddo?” At first glance, she would only appear stern, but her eyes show her concern for me.

  “You, of all people, should know I’m not lazy,” I growl. She’s ruffled my feathers, knowing well enough how to push my buttons.

  “Waah waah. I’m just keeping you on your toes. Men don’t stay billionaires by missing important meetings.” She claps her hands. “Chop, chop, kiddo!”

  The thing is, this is worrisome. I’m type-A to a fault and built this company up from nothing to the billion-dollar conglomerate of health food, workout gear and other smaller but related businesses that it is today.

  I stand to take back the power in this conversation. No one, not even my dear Cyn, will look down on me for long. “Ah, you know me. A few bucks in one pocket and a dream in the other and I make it happen. Lose a buck there, gain two bucks here,” I say confidently, if not a little flippantly. “You know growing up dirt poor had a very sobering and incentivizing effect on me.”

  So what the hell is wrong with me today?

  She clucks her tongue. “S
o, go make a few bucks right now.” She pauses and smiles warmly. “Lazy.” She’s teasing me now but it has the effect she wants, and she knows she can get away with it because I’m a softy when it comes to her.

  Mentally shrugging off my mood as an oncoming cold or something equally as mundane, I roll my plush executive desk chair out of the way and come around the desk. Putting an arm around my long-time assistant, I place a chaste kiss on her cheek.

  “Cyn, don’t be such a bitch.”

  She snorts a laugh and pushes me out of my large corner office.

  Straightening my posture, I stride down the hall. There will be no hesitant footsteps for anyone to see.

  Almost everyone is already assembled in the boardroom when I enter and I’m greeted by various good morning, Mr. Longos. Acknowledging them, I take my seat at the head of the long rectangular table and place my palms down on either side of the yellow legal pad put there for any notes I might want to take. To my left is a small candy dish filled with old fashioned Luden’s cherry throat lozenges. A silly rock star quirk of mine.

  “Ladies… Gentlemen, good morning. Let’s begin, shall we?”

  There are murmurs and nods of agreement as I open the meeting folder and glance at the agenda. I tighten my abs to hold in a sigh. Most of the meeting will be a discussion of which health club we should partner with… again. I mentally tic off the number of meetings we’ve already devoted to this topic— four.

  Seems everyone and their asshole has an opinion on it.

  Candace Hart, a very promising young executive with cleavage I don’t mind looking at each day, clears her throat and reads the first item of discussion. “Packaging for the frozen line.”

  I tear my eyes away from her chest and force them to the props set up in the center of the conference table while my team hashes it out. I’m pleased when they pick the packaging design I prefer and give them my approval.

  Candace is about to read the next item for discussion, but I make a hand motion to stop her. To shake off my lethargy, I need to take control. Be in charge. I read the next item, groan inwardly, and announce a quick decision on the topic. “Any objections?” I ask, looking around at the assembled faces with a stern, all business expression.