by His Slave
“Does it?” Deciding he wanted nothing to do with verbal sparring, he rammed his hands in his back pockets. “Maybe. Next week’s about getting deeper into the BDSM experience by introducing pain.”
Instead of flinching, she nodded. He wondered if she realized that her knuckles were turning white. “My pain or watching it happen to someone else?”
“Both.”
Nodding almost imperceptivity, she closed her eyes. Was she imagining a flogger, wielded by him, striking her flesh?
He’d restrain her so her arms and legs were outstretched, her body forming a X. She’d wear leather bracelets and anklets, nothing else. Or would he test her boundaries by fastening metal clips to her nipples?
Yeah, gold glinting and her breath ragged, breasts hard and hot. Light lash after light lash would sting her, forcing out moans and groans. She’d look at him, only him, her eyes bright and glittering like the gold. Proof of her arousal would run down the insides of her legs, and she’d twist about, her dance tearing him apart.
If he stopped, she’d beg him to continue. If he demanded an explanation of what she was feeling, words would desert her, but her sex heat would fill his lungs. Watching intently, he’d reach between her legs and fasten his fingers around her sex, trap it.
She’d come, her climax long and rolling, forcing cry after cry from her.
Only Cheyenne didn’t cry.
Wondering if she’d ever tell him why, he pulled himself back to the present. Her eyes were still closed, and her body sagged as if she’d lost contact with it. Unable to stop himself, he took hold of her arms. Her eyes opened, widened. His undoing came when, instead of retreating into her own space, she leaned toward him.
“You shouldn’t touch me,” she whispered. “The things that does to me—”
“Do you hate it?”
“No.” The word floated on her exhaled breath. “Shit, I’m so tightly wrapped—” Stepping even closer, she pushed her pelvis at him.
The beast that felt most alive when he had a woman under him clawed at his innards. Cheyenne was innocence and witch. Handing herself to him.
“We’re going to fuck,” he ground out, “unless you get the hell out of here right now.”
“I can’t leave. Damn it, you have to know that.”
He didn’t know anything, least of all why she was so seductive. He knew better than to get personally involved. Walking away from a woman ensured his sanity.
Except for tonight.
8
Not explaining, Mace propelled her backward and lifted her off the ground. She didn’t need to look behind her to know he was intent on depositing her on her car’s hood. That done, he turned her so they were close enough to kiss.
Kiss? Not going to happen.
As long as he remained between her legs, the squared hood allowed her to sit without danger of slipping off. Her skirt had flipped up, which meant the cool metal was chilling her exposed ass. Not caring enough to do anything about it, she wrapped her arms around his neck. Her breasts flattened against his chest, and his arms went around her back.
The seconds ticked off as they clung to each other, simply clung. She was no less in heat than she’d been before he’d picked her up, no less focused on the throbbing between her legs. The question of why this was happening tapped at her, only to fade into nothing.
There didn’t need to be reason or sanity with his hard form ruling hers. This man had wrenched her out of her comfort zone and into a world she’d never had the courage for. No wonder she—
“Last chance for you to say no,” he said. “Because otherwise we’re going to have sex.”
“Here?” She winced at the damn stupid question.
“Yeah, I’m the only one who’ll see the tape.”
“Oh.”
Releasing her, he rocked back on his heels, then came at her again. Muttering something, he ran his hands along her thighs, incinerating them. Determined to catch him on fire, she yanked his turtleneck out of the waistband and slid her fingers over the ladder of his ribs. There was too much muscle there, too much hardness.
“Damn it.” His grip on her thighs tightened.
“Do you always swear?”
“Only when I need to.” His breath scorched her cheek.
“Times like this?”
No answer, only his hands sliding around her thighs toward her ass. The thought of how he felt about touching her flattened and chilled buttocks pulled her out of the whirlpool she’d fallen into, and she waited for a sign that too much reality had invaded. What she got was his fingers digging into her flesh and something squeezing her heart.
Pressing the heels of her hands against his ribs, she inched closer. His mouth was close, too close. If she wasn’t careful, she might be tempted to touch hers to his. Wondering if he might feel the same temptation, she turned her head to the side. Even with the hood against her ass, she remained intensely aware of how close his cock was.
Fucking? Sex.
Sudden pressure at the base of her spine straightened her. Gripping his shirt, she yanked up so the garment bunched under his arms. He again pressed his fist against her spine, the grinding sensation immediately centering in her pussy.
“Not fair,” she whimpered, as she pressed the heels of her hands against his collarbone.
“What isn’t?”
“Getting to me’s so damn easy for you. You got me all wrapped up earlier and now—”
“So leave if you don’t want this.”
Leave? Not in this lifetime.
She tried to pull his shirt over his head only to give up when he made it clear he had no intention of releasing her. Keeping her in place with one hand, he trailed his nails over her spine.
“Oh, shit. Damn you!” She raked her nails down his chest, not stopping until she reached the waistband she’d give anything to shred. She began retracing her steps only to forget what she’d had in mind when he ran his thumb into her ass crack.
“Oh, shit!” Leaning forward, she tried to bite his shoulder only to wind up with her mouth full of fabric that tasted of him.
His nails laid thin, hot lines on either side of her spine. Angry and excited, she rested the side of her head on his shoulder and returned the favor. When she tried to straighten, she realized she’d slipped into the space between his legs with his cock pressing in the last place she needed to be pressed.
Sinking into something dark that existed only in her mind, she tried to scoot back. “Let me—”
“Too late. It’s going to happen.”
She needed to say something, anything, maybe simply finish the sentence she’d started. Instead, she drank in more of his smell and the feel of him everywhere on her. Logic and civilization be damned. Considering the consequences of her action, double damned. Mace was different from other men. He’d claimed her sex at Indulgences simply because he’d wanted to.
“Not like this.” She demonstrated by working her hand between their bodies and cupping his cock through his pants. “I can’t reach the main participant.”
“Then do something with the damned zipper.”
His command reminded her of the dom/submissive roles they’d played earlier, but what did she care if he thought of her as his slave, his possession? The metal ripping sound closed her throat, and once again she didn’t quite believe this was happening. He backed off long enough to tug his pants and briefs down his hips and then sank into her again. His erection ground against her sex. Lifting her head in order to pull in enough oxygen, she again slipped her fingers between them. Lingering over her clit, she separated her sex lips.
Instead of pulling out and letting him claim her, however, she kept her hand in place. Despite her attempt to provide a barrier, if that’s what she’d intended, his tip teased her opening, prompting her to rock from side to side. She was wet, her sex weeping the tears she denied herself.
“You’re killing me,” he hissed. “Don’t you get it, there’s no wait in me tonight.”
“
Me either.”
“Then what—”
“You’re so soft. And hard.” Reaching around him, she gripped his ass cheek, but as much as she wanted to reposition herself so he could run himself into her, something held her back.
He pushed at her. The effort squeezed her fingers between their bodies. “What’s this?” he asked. “You change your mind?”
“No.” She needed more hands, one to tear at her hair, another to grasp her breasts, still another to cup his cock. And air. There wasn’t enough of that.
“Cheyenne?”
Say my name again. Make it a song. “What?”
“This is real. Man and woman. No games.”
“I know.” Trembling from the effort, she withdrew her hand and wiped her sticky offering on his thigh. Only then did she look down. His taut cock appeared blood red with potent yet fragile veins. It looked like something alien next to her pale thighs and too massive for her body to swallow. A drop of moisture clung to the tip.
“Protection,” she blurted.
“Shit, shit!”
Fear that they couldn’t go further froze her. Then he hauled his pants higher, digging into a rear pocket as he did, and pulled out the necessary package. Her eyes burning, she watched him roll the condom over his erection. Then, trapped in a place she was certain she’d never been before, she brushed his hand aside and took over. She guided him to her, settled him at her entrance.
“Do it,” she ordered the man who’d called her his slave earlier tonight. “Now.”
This time he shoved into her, burying his head in her waiting tissues. Then, although she dug at his flanks trying to get him to finish his task, he stopped. Panting, she waited him out. Another half inch filled her. His features blurred, and he claimed the air she needed. Turning her head to the side, she went in search of some he hadn’t already used.
As she inhaled, he clamped onto her buttocks, pinning them so she couldn’t move.
“We’re both going to regret this,” he said.
“It’s too late for that, damn it.” And I’m too much of an animal.
Yes, that’s what she’d been waiting for! Pressure and being expanded. He took her slow yet hard, his cock relentless and promising. Placing her hands behind her, she leaned back and lifted herself an inch, maybe two. His grip on her buttocks held.
The instant his balls pressed against her, he pulled back, robbing her and making her sex throb. Then he buried himself in her again. Determined not to let him go again this time, she closed her aching inner muscles around him. He growled something she didn’t catch.
“What?” she asked.
“Nothing, damn you. Ah, shit!”
The more frenzied his movements, the more she slid back and forth on the hood until she had no choice but to cling to his neck to secure herself. There was something frightening about him, wild and powerful. No matter how much she wanted to prove herself his equal, the more impossible it became to face him. Much easier was staring off to the side while her breasts flailed.
Clit or cunt? Was there a difference between the two? Maybe her entire sex had bled together. Something tore at her chest. Again she felt her heart being squeezed, and now her rib cage couldn’t contain her lungs.
A riptide signaling her impending climax hit her. Always before she’d needed extended stimulation to throw her over the top. But this wasn’t yesterday, it was now. Him. Night claiming the parking lot and her buttocks burning from the friction.
Forgetting her fear of a moment ago, she turned toward him, and he closed his teeth around her lower lip, forcing her to lean forward awkwardly. His relentless cock still pummeled her, compelling her to attack him in return.
Incapable of speaking, sounds nevertheless burst from her. The helpless cries swirled through her, inflaming her sex.
There! she wanted to tell him. There! Climax! The sensation lifted her up and held her suspended. She didn’t care what was happening to him, couldn’t tell whether he was equally lost. This rolling shudder was all hers.
Everything hers.
9
Not bothering with the light in her bedroom, Cheyenne peeled off her clothes and dropped them on the floor. Grabbing a nightgown, she headed for the bathroom. While waiting for the shower to warm up, she stared at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair looked like hell, partly because she’d driven home with the windows down, the rest the result of the bumping and grinding that had taken place on her car’s hood.
Her attention wandered to her neck and the faint mark left by the collar. More marks served as reminders of how Mace had tied her wrists. The growing knot in her groin insisted she replay her responses. She’d loved every minute of his handling of her. Hell, what had dried between her legs left no doubt.
Sighing, she stepped into the shower and let the spray run over her short hair. Did Mace like the style? Maybe he’d prefer it long so he could use it to haul her wherever he wanted, like she’d seen on some BDSM sites.
They’d had sex. She hadn’t expected that. More to the point, the act hadn’t taken place at Indulgences while they’d been on display, and she at least under scrutiny. Tonight was supposed to be about getting accepted at Indulgences so she could write a knock-it-out-of-the-park article and prove herself at Edge.
Edge? Didn’t matter tonight.
Her mouth started to sag open. Closing it to avoid drowning made sense, not that she was interested in self-preservation.
What was Mace doing? If his only concern was whether to grab a bite before going to bed, she didn’t want to know. In true wham-bam style, he’d said little once they were done, nothing about calling or seeing her again, not a word about what a great lay she was.
Stepping back from the water, she reached for the shampoo, only to stop with her hand outstretched. She could no longer see the rope marks on her wrists, not that it made a difference because the impact remained. No denying it, she’d loved being handled like a sub. That had to be why she’d come so quick and hard.
Thinking about the way she’d stood there dumb and silent and oozing while Mace fingered her at Indulgences made her shiver. She’d expected her first time in bondage to require steel nerves and too much teeth grinding. Fear.
Instead, she’d reacted as if she’d been born to the life.
Shivering again, she turned so her back was under the spray. Water sheeted off her breasts, over her shoulders, and coated her belly and thighs. Some found the channel between her legs. At first she resolutely kept them closed, but as memories of the night piled one upon the other, they slid apart. Giving up, she ran both hands into the space she’d created.
If only she still had on her leather collar. If only Mace was here, maybe holding on to the chain, maybe securing it to the shower head so she couldn’t leave until it pleased him.
She didn’t know the man and had no idea what he was capable of. Yet, dangerous as it was, when she closed her thumb and forefinger around her clit, she too easily imagined that those were his fingers instead of hers.
“I’m home.”
Mace’s announcement was unnecessary because Rio was already standing at the front door looking up at him. The pit bull’s switch-like tail lashed slowly.
“Don’t give me that look, all right. I know I said I might be out all night, but plans changed.”
Not giving away what he was thinking, the sixty-pound dog stuck his nose between Mace’s legs and snorted.
“Can’t keep anything from you, can I? Yeah, I had sex. And don’t blame me because your clip job makes that activity impossible for you.”
Rio snorted again. His tail continued its slow wag.
“Are you going to let me all the way in? Do I need to remind you who pays the bills around here?”
Pulling back, Rio yawned.
“I’ve got it. You don’t give a damn about bills because you figure your looks are the only key you need to a roof over your head.”
Rio planted his rear end on the tile entryway in the first house Mace had e
ver considered his. Because he hadn’t bothered with the light, he saw little more than Rio’s outline. Thinking about the scars, he rubbed between Rio’s ears and then stroked the ears themselves. The right one was perfect, while most of the left had been torn away, leaving a stump Mace always handled gently. In addition to the destroyed ear, Rio bore scars on his forelegs and muzzle from being used as a sacrificial lamb by trained fighting dogs while Rio was still a puppy. Mace hated thinking what would have happened if animal control hadn’t stepped in.
“You’re a piece of work. Worthless and ugly as sin,” he told Rio, when truth was, he’d never loved a living thing more. “Just because I’m the only human you tolerate doesn’t mean I feel responsible for you.”
Yawning again, Rio licked Mace’s arm. Then they walked together into the kitchen and Mace refilled the dog’s water bowl. As his last dog servant chore of the night, he opened the back door and let the pit outside. When he’d bought the house, a cyclone fence had closed in the yard, but then he’d rescued Rio and learned that the dog went nuts every time he saw movement near his turf. A six-foot-high wooden fence on either side had eased his neighbors’ minds and given Rio a sense of security. Wetlands were behind the property, and Rio all but put out the welcome mat for the endless birds who landed there.
His evening constitution dealt with, Rio came in and headed for the bedroom. By the time Mace joined him, Rio had jumped onto the bed and was circling, mindless to what he was doing to the dark blue spread.
“Anyone tell you how worthless you are?” Because he didn’t anticipate a response, especially an honest one, Mace sat on the edge of the bed and removed his shoes. Standing again, he undid the zipper on the shiny, black-as-sin pants he’d never wear anywhere except at Indulgences.
Stripping down to nothing took longer than usual because he kept getting distracted by thoughts of how the evening had played out. The part at Indulgences had been pretty much according to code, all except for his unexpected need to know what she smelled like. He’d also found ways to make her speak simply so the sound of her voice would settle in him. As for fingering her—hell, that had been part of expected procedure, so no need asking himself why there.