Rules Are Made to Be Broen

[A/N: I just wanted to say thank you again to everyone who's reading & enjoying - your comments and messages always make my day! (& to everyone crushing on Sam: you're definitely not alone!...enjoy chapter 13 lovers! EG x]

I hit the save button and stretch out at the breakfast bar.

It's 11am. My laptop and I have been best friends since seven this morning after I woke up remarkably bright eyed and bushy tailed.

Admittedly, I've lost count of how many cups of coffee I've had since then, but I've made good progress and I'm actually starting to believe I'll pull off having my finished manuscript ready for Ms DeVere by this time next week. As I set up a mug for caffeine hit number whatever it is, my phone chimes with a text.

'Morning Beautiful. Tonight: You. Me. Drinks. X'

I quickly compose a reply.

'Mr Byron, please note that you only get to boss me around when I'm working!'

Almost immediately I get another reply back:

'I was hoping to take my friend Jessica out, but fine, I'll make a booking.'

I start to compose a reply then roll my eyes and press call instead.

'Save your cash moneybags, I'll come.' I say as he picks up.

'Well good morning to you too,' he pauses -- 'Jessica.' I can picture the smile at the other end of the phone.

'Good morning, Sam.' I reply, remembering my manners.

'So, what time shall I pick you up?' he continues

'That's not necessary; I'll get a cab and meet you.' I tell him,

'You don't know where I'm taking you.' He counters,

'So then tell me!' I reply, exasperated,

'And ruin the surprise?' he teases. Oh, good grief this man is infuriating! I decide it's probably easier to just play along.

'Fine.' I reply. 'When would you like me to be ready... Sir?'

'I'll pick you up at 9. Don't keep me waiting.' He answers, victoriously.

'I wouldn't dream of it, Mr Byron.' I reply, over sincerely.

'See you tonight beautiful.' I can tell his grin is back in place.

As I hang up, it dawns on me that since I've no idea where we're going, I've also got no idea what to wear. I start composing a text about dress code requirements when there's a knock at the door.

I open it and greet a courier holding a large red box which I recognise instantly as being from a boutique in town that I love. I guess that's the dress code sorted then. I smile sweetly and sign for the package. I'm irritated at his presumptuousness, but I have to admit, I'm also excited to see what he's chosen.

I take the red box into my bedroom and lay it on the bed. Removing the lid, I unfold the matching red tissue to reveal a black silk flamenco style frock with shoe string straps, a fitted bodice and a flared fishtail hem. It's an excellent choice.

I shrug off my flimsy robe and try it on. It fits like a glove and the light fabric feels divine against my skin. I do a little twirl in front of the mirror and the hem fans out around me. I love it. As I take it off and hang it up on my wardrobe door, I notice a small grey box against the red tissue.

Not more jewellery as well? As I pick it up, it makes a small clinking noise. Curiously, I open it. There's a card in Sam's handwriting that simply says: 'wear me'. I search inside the tissue paper and find two silver metal balls, held together by a short length of silky grey cord.

That cheeky bastard.

I don't know what I'm more annoyed about - the fact he was so sure I'd agree to go out with him, or that he's now assuming I'll also comply with his kinky sex games on my own time.

Actually, the thing I'm most annoyed about is how aroused I just got as a result of him dominating me from afar.

My stubborn streak kicks in and for a second, I toy with texting him to cancel altogether, but then I remember Anna's words. If he makes you happy, let him. Don't overthink It. Of course, she'd be horrified if she knew I was using her advice to talk myself into letting myself go out with a sexual deviant who has no interest in dating, but still. He does make me happy.

Ultimately though, it's the aching wetness between my legs that's shouting the loudest, telling me to just live in the moment and let this man who seems to know my deepest desires better than I do myself take the lead. We'll see. I mean, it'd be a shame to waste such a great dress.

* * * * *

When I check the clock it's ten to nine. I take a last approving look at my reflection.

My hair is piled high in an elaborate up do, set off with a red jewelled flower clip that Anna got me for my birthday last year and I've gone with dark, smoky eye makeup and nude glossy lips. Obviously, I've decided to wear the 'Jessica' necklace, and some tiny diamond stud earrings that match it beautifully.

I've picked out my red strappy heels to match the flower in my hair (and the silk panties I'm wearing underneath), and of course the dress looks fantastic.

Sam Byron might be an infuriating control freak, but he does have good taste.

I pick up the grey box with the silver balls inside and walk into the lounge; still warring with my own common sense and my unyielding will to submit to the man who gave them to me.

I hear a car pull up outside and peek through a gap in the curtains to see said man getting out of a black Mercedes. He looks mouth wateringly good in a black suit, and black open collar shirt. He's teased his unruly curls into a vaguely coiffed side parting and I feel my nipples stiffen against the silky fabric of my new dress.

I'm drumming my fingertips against the grey box.

There's a knock at the door. I open the box and hold the smooth, cold metal balls in the palm of my hand.

He knocks again. I smile and giving in to my own lust, hitch up my dress, push my panties to one side, and slip the hard balls inside myself, gasping slightly at the cold, but not unwelcome intrusion.

The third knock is accompanied by a tentative 'Jessica?' from the other side of the door. I open it and smile,

'Good evening, Mr Byron.'

'Wow.' He replies, looking me up and down. 'That dress looks a thousand times better with you in it.' He adds.

'Why thank you.' I reply,

'Nice necklace too.' He adds, beaming brightly -- it obviously means a lot to him that I love it.

'Isn't it? It was a gift from a very good friend.' I say, emphasising the word friend. 'Shall we?' I finish, nodding toward Harvey waiting dutifully by the car. He smiles and takes me by the hand.

In the back seat of the Mercedes, I struggle to keep my composure. The weighted balls inside me are making their presence felt every time we turn a corner and my silk panties are already very wet as a result.

'You know you almost had me worried back there', Sam says, casually resting his hand on my thigh. I give him a look like I have no idea what he's talking about. He's not the only one who can play head games. 'I thought you might be standing me up.' He admits.

'Why ever would I do that?' I reply, batting my lashes innocently. 'It's not as though you're a controlling deviant with no sense of what is and is not appropriate.' I continue, a small smile breaking through my pout. He takes my chin gently between his finger and thumb and kisses the corner of my mouth.

'Any more of your impertinence Miss Blake and I'll take you straight back to my playroom and show you just how deviant I can be.' His voice is low and even in my ear. He nips my earlobe gently with his teeth before sitting back in his seat, leaving me speechless. He looks down at my thighs, stroking his thumb across his bottom lip and I see a flash of carnal yearning in his eyes.

'So, are you wearing everything I sent?' he asks, not looking up.

'That would be telling Mr Byron.' I reply in a breathless whisper, willing him to put me across his knee right here and find out for himself, but his eyes simply twinkle, full of pure lust and unshakeable confidence.

As the car stops, I peer out the tinted window, trying to work out where we are. I see the word 'Fiesta' written in neon lights.

'It's my cousin's newest venture', Sam explains as he helps me out of the car, 'Salsa dancing club' he grins as he puts his arm around my waist, pinning me to his side and leads me to the entrance.

Inside, a thumping salsa beat drums steadily throughout the building. As I take in the interior, I have to admit I'm impressed. It's a rich mixture of fiery reds and decadent gold, there's a polished wooden dance floor and colourful lanterns strung from every inch of ceiling. The bar is a striking curved design spanning the length of the back wall, well stocked with more different Tequila bottles than I even knew existed, plus plenty more spirits and beers on top.

Sam takes my hand and leads me in its direction. An attractive dark-haired guy who looks vaguely Spanish but is probably from East London comes to take our order. Sure enough, he sounds more like Damon Albarn than Enrique Iglesias when he speaks.

'What can I get you Bella Seniorita?'

'We'll have two Palomas, on Christian's tab.', Sam cuts in bluntly.

As the barman goes off to mix our drinks, I narrow my eyes at Byron

'Are you going to parade me in front of him in my underwear too?' I hiss. His expression is cold.

'Miss Blake, you should know by now that I don't like sharing what's mine.' He replies in a low growl. I consider telling him the only thing he's paid for tonight is the dress, but I don't want to fight, so I change the subject instead.

'So why are you running up someone else's tab -- who's Christian?'

'That would be me.' I turn to face a very attractive man dressed in a pale grey suit with a white shirt open at the neck. He's tall and broad shouldered, with floppy blonde hair swept to one side and a smile almost as dazzling as Sam's.

'Christian Byron.' He continues, holding out his hand, 'You must be Jessica.' He says as he lightly kisses the hand I had actually offered expecting him to shake. 'You're right little cousin, totally punching above your weight with this one!' he adds, to Sam.

It makes sense now; clearly the Byron family tree has some very good genes running through it.

'Jessica, this is my cousin Christian', Sam starts, trying to regain control 'And yes, Christian, this is Jessica, who will, I hope, not hold having a dick for a cousin against me.'

Christian grins and Sam relents, mirroring it as the two share a quick embrace.

'Apologies, Jessica. It's a pleasure to meet you.' Christian says good naturedly,

'And you', I reply with a smile.

'So, what do you two think of the place?' Christian continues,

'It looks great!' I reply genuinely and Sam nods in agreement,

'Looks like all that time we spent drinking Tequila in Mexico wasn't wasted after all.' Sam adds with a half-smile.

'Never in doubt little cousin -- all about the research.' Christian throws an exaggerated wink in my direction. 'I have to go do some meeting and greeting -- you two enjoy and I'll catch up with you later.' He kisses me briefly on both cheeks, shakes hands with Sam and moves off into a crowd of people, leaving us alone.

'You told your cousin about me?' I ask,

'He needed to know if I was bringing a plus one.' He shrugs, avoiding eye contact. I'm sure there's the ghost of a smile at the corner of his mouth. The barman sets our cocktails down and turns to serve someone else. Sam picks up both glasses in one hand, placing his other on my behind, guiding me in the direction of an empty booth.

I try not to squirm as the silver balls sway gently inside me when I slide carefully into the plush red seating.

'You okay there Beautiful?' Sam asks, as he slides in opposite me, noticing my caution.

'Uh-huh.' I nod. I refuse to give him the upper hand. The balls actually feel quite inconspicuous when I'm still, just a mildly pleasant pressure. It's when I'm moving that they start really having an effect.

Sam lifts his drink, proposing a toast

'To, you, Miss Blake, and your blossoming literary career.' I clink my glass to his and smile.

'Thank you, Mr Byron.' We each take a long sip. He leans across the table and fixes me with his sparkling blue eyes which are twinkling with deviance.

'The gift I sent with the dress,' he starts, 'did I mention that they're remote controlled?' My eyes widen. Fuck. His perfect lips curl into a smile as he takes another sip of his cocktail.

'Is that so Mr Byron?' I reply, trying to ignore the throbbing in my clit that just went up at least three notches. He replies with a small nod.

'So, if you were wearing them, I could probably make you come right here.' He muses nonchalantly, moving his hand to his hip pocket, his gaze never leaving mine.

Keep it together Blake; I coach myself inwardly, torn between trying to keep a poker face and begging him to press the button that's obviously in his pocket.

'Well, that would only be relevant if I had decided to indulge your presumptuousness enough to wear them.' I pout, taking another long sip.

'Indeed.' He agrees, putting his hand back on the table. 'Would you excuse me for just a moment?' he kisses me on the cheek as he stands, then goes to join his cousin who's speaking to another man at the bar -- reasonably good looking, but obviously not a Byron.

I concentrate on my cocktail and think about going to the ladies to remove Sam's gift. As if reading my mind, the balls inside me start gently vibrating. That son of a bitch. My eyes flit to where he's standing. His hand is in his pocket and he's apparently engrossed in conversation, not even looking at me. The balls continue to gently buzz and I shift slightly in my seat, trying to relieve the sensation but inadvertently increasing it. I gasp in pleasure. Oh, God, it feels really good. I close my eyes, trying to get control of myself. When I open them, Spanish looking Cockney sounding barman is coming towards me with another cocktail on a tray.

'Miss Blake,' he smiles, 'Your friend sent this over and told me to ask if you'd like anything else?' he sets the drink down and motions at Sam with the empty tray, Sam whose eyes are now locked on me, his beautiful mouth set in a self-satisfied smirk. As I try to speak, the gentle vibration inside me changes to a series of short, persistent pulses, I gasp and manage to reply

'No, this is fine, thank you.' with a small smile.

As he walks away, the pulses inside me return to a continuous vibration, though significantly more intense than before. It feels incredible. Again, I close my eyes, trying to slow my breathing.

Moments later I feel Sam slide back into the booth beside me.

'Sorry about that beautiful, hope you didn't get bored without me.' He purrs, grazing my lips lightly with his. I'm torn between slapping him and jumping on top of him. I make do with kissing him back, harder, then whispering

'You've made your point.' into his neck as I grip the lapel of his jacket with all the strength I can manage.

'Not quite.' He replies, one hand still in his pocket. The long fingers of his free hand caress my cheek tenderly and instinctively I lean in to his touch, moaning softly. He smooths the tip of his thumb across my bottom lip. 'I want you to come for me, right here.' He states matter of factly.

Before I can say another word, his mouth is on mine, and the balls inside me start to slowly cycle through all three different vibration modes. I press my thighs together tightly, giving in to the exquisite sensations, his firm hand on the back of my neck now steadying me, keeping me close as his tongue slips against mine; silencing my soft moans of pleasure. As he pulls back slightly, the intensity of his stare threatens to push me over the edge; his blue eyes mirror my lust back at me and make my head swim.

This delicious, deviant man has me completely under his spell; and his control. And there's nowhere I'd rather be.

'Come for me Jessica.' He mouths, never taking his eyes off me. I willingly obey and let my orgasm wash over me as discreetly as I can manage.

The vibrations stop and suddenly both of his hands are on my neck, as he kisses me gently.

'Let's dance.' he whispers, taking my hand and pulling me onto the dance floor before I can object.

He holds my right hand up in his and snakes his other around my back, pulling me close to him. My breath catches in my throat at the feel of his hard chest crushing against me. As we move together to the throbbing music, I can't take my eyes off him. I should hate him for what he just did, but it only made me want him more.

Of course, he dances divinely, gliding me across the crowded floor with ease; every inch the accomplished gentleman -- albeit one with entirely improper tastes. Tastes I want to help him indulge more than ever.

As he twirls me around, my dress flares, flashing my legs, and the now stationary silver balls sway gently inside my wet pussy. He pulls me close again, rolling his hips in time with mine.

'I want to fuck you, hard.' his voice is husky in my ear.

'Right here on the dance floor? That's bold even by your standards!' I whisper back with a smile and a raised brow.

He shakes his head lightly with a smirk,

'there are private rooms upstairs' he states plainly, watching me for a response. I hardly even think about it before breathing

'Lead the way.' And in a heartbeat, he's taken me by the hand and is leading me off the dance floor.

We slip through a doorway on the next floor up and he locks it behind us.

'Is your cousin running a strip club?' I ask, noting the chaise-lounge, arm chair, dresser and full-length mirror in the small room.

'Not likely!' Sam laughs, 'These are dressing rooms, for the entertainment.' He explains.

'Well, I guess that's fitting since I seem to have been your entertainment this evening!' I quip, moving towards him and fishing the remote control out of his pocket. His lightning reflexes catch my wrist firmly and his entire demeanour changes in a moment, from playful to something much darker altogether. Something I'm becoming powerless to resist.

'Didn't you enjoy it, Miss Blake?' his tone is low and level, his grip on my wrist isn't painful, but it's keeping me in place, his stormy eyes are locked on me from beneath his dark lashes.

'You know I did.' I answer quietly, trying to keep my breathing even as he releases my wrist and takes the remote back.

'Which part?' he continues, moving behind me, tucking a stray lock of hair behind my ear as he kisses the back of my neck gently. 'Coming in public, or letting me control your pleasure?'

'Both.' I gasp breathlessly as his tongue brushes against my bare shoulder. I can feel his lips curling into a smile against my skin.

'Good.' He replies, 'I knew you would, and you should never deny yourself what feels good, or brings you pleasure, Jessica.' He purrs, his hands moving firmly over my hips, gently turning me around to face him. 'Do you want to submit to me again now, Jessica?' he asks, looking down into my eyes with a small smirk playing on his beautiful lips. He knows full well I do, but of course he's going to make me say so. I return his gaze as I reply.

'Yes Sir, I do.'

'Good girl.' His smirk widens a fraction before he kisses me lightly. 'Lose the dress.' He orders quietly, and I eagerly obey.

I delicately push my straps down over my shoulders and let the fine silk sashay to the floor at my feet. He takes my hand, helping me step out of the pooled fabric so that I'm standing in front of him in just my red silk panties.

'Hands behind your back Jessica.' I do as I'm told and he lifts a silk scarf from the dresser, making quick work of tying my wrists together and walking me backwards to stand in front of the chaise-longue. 'Sit' he whispers in my ear, pushing me lightly down onto the cushioned velvet. He pulls my thighs apart and positions himself between my spread legs. Finally letting himself look down, he smiles appreciatively at my red underwear.