Steel Dominance

by Cari Silverwood

  She froze and shrank down into the bed. The barked command and the way he’d shut down his expression to just a flat, mean stare had impressed on her his seriousness.

  “No more fighting. You’re still not at full health.” One corner of his mouth curved up. “I’m going to hold you down, and I’m going to make you come however I want to because I want to. If you continue to resist, I will tie you up outside in the hallway like a trussed chicken so everyone passing can hear you squeal. Understood?”

  The image of that flashed into her head. Embarrassment vied with arousal. Her pulse thudded in her temples. She licked her lips. Slow as a beast stalking prey it had cornered, he moved his hand and hooked two fingers into the corner of her mouth.

  If before she’d thought him attentive, now his eyes locked onto her, as if he wished to see everything—every breath, every shiver, every dark thought. “Do you understand? Nod, Sofia.” His words rumbled through her.

  With his fingers there, she could barely move her head, but she nodded as much as she could, rocking his fingers. They slid a little deeper, bumping her tongue, and his thumb curled under her jaw.

  A little satisfied sound escaped her throat. Being fastened down so intimately, made the bed seem to enfold her in its embrace, made the world fade out, until there was only him and her and nothing else.

  I’m lost. But being lost was good, when he was there to catch her.

  “Good girl. This is how I want you.”

  Then he bent and licked her nipple through the cloth. The wet softness of his tongue curled over her and made her top stick to her areola. When he leaned over and licked her other nipple, the first cooled. Heat and the cold alternated. With his teeth, he pulled down the neckline, exposing both breasts and accentuating them.

  “Beautiful.” Then he started on her again.

  Her need to fight had been taken away; her will removed from her. She centered on what he did, writhing a little and groaning at each nip of teeth or lap of tongue, at the delicious possession of her breasts.

  The fingers in her mouth were soaked from her saliva, but they were a part of him, and she welcomed them.

  When heat ran and pulsed from her breasts and abused nipples to her groin, when her clit ached so much for something to touch it that she arched herself off the bed as if to grind on something, he tucked her hand under the small of her back so her weight held it in place.

  “Keep it there.”

  She blinked at him while he caressed her chin with his thumb and said quietly, “I thought you might have forgotten over these past weeks who it was that owned you, but you haven’t.”

  Owned? The word had a wicked ring to it. So simple, yet the echoes reverberated. His.

  Without looking aside, Dankyo slipped his hand beneath her nightgown, over the side of her buttock and hip, and up the curve of her waist to her belly button. He pressed down. The warmth and solid presence of his hand flattened onto her stomach somehow connected to her trapped hand. Eyelids almost shut, she huffed out past the digits stuffed in her mouth—wanting him to move that hand lower, but not wanting to speak.

  “Do you like me owning you, Sofia?” As if it were an afterthought, he coasted his palm over her navel, and downward, then halted at the upper limit of her triangle of hair.

  Keep going. She wriggled but didn’t say the words. She wanted him to just know. But she also wanted him to do what he wanted to, even if, maybe especially if, it was not what she desired.

  I like being used. And that, she realized was where her rape fantasies centered. Being used by a big powerful man, who also loves me. I’m mad, but I don’t care. Not anymore.

  He stirred her pubic hair, his fingertip barely three or four inches from her clit.

  “Answer me. Do you like the idea of being owned?”

  Her strangled mew only made him move that hand even slower. Under her back, her own hand splayed out, and then her fingers curled in the sheet. This was agony—wanting, aching.

  “Yes.” Her tongue tangled with his fingers, making her gargle the word. She could tell her difficulties pleased him in some way. And that pleased her. Whatever the reason, she loved it, because he was the one doing it, for no other reason than that.

  He nodded.

  By the time he reached it, her clit was standing up at attention, waiting for him. Light as the caress of a feather was the touch of his fingertip. Barely disturbing the hood, he treated her clitoris as if it were a castle surrounded by a moat that had to be assailed or wooed before he could climb to the peak. With his finger he did laps around and around her clit.

  Touch me, harder! She strained upward but still didn’t say it.

  She hadn’t so much as thought about masturbating while they were apart, and the storm arrived quickly—her blood hammered, engorging her clit and her labia. Moisture seeped from her in little gushes, spreading over her lower lips. The tightness coiling up inside was like a stoked furnace ready to explode.

  It became too much. “Pleeese,” she squeaked out, squirming, pressing her thighs together, wriggling against his hold.

  “You need to come, do you, my lady?” He kissed her belly. “Say it.”

  Nasty, evil man. “Yessss.” Her next thrust went nowhere as his leg tightened over the top of hers.

  “Then come.”

  The stroke of his finger went over the top of her clit and centered there, wobbling the little ripe nub to and fro, while his mouth sucked the peak of her breast up inside. His hot tongue rasped across the nipple.

  “Oh. Oh. Oh.” She moaned and grunted and thrust her groin up at that finger and her breast at that mouth.

  The madness of ecstasy dragged at her. By his sucking and sucking, and the constant pressing on her most intimate part, he coaxed the orgasm up through her body. She tumbled, screaming, into ecstasy. At the finest moment, he shoved his fingers up inside her and fucked her with them. She rocked higher, muscles still jerking, and stayed there until a final shudder overcame her, and she subsided onto the bed, exhausted and conquered.

  His soft rumbly words spoken next to her ear brought her back. “There. Was that good?”

  “Mmm.” She turned over, sleepy, sated, and molded herself into him. His hard cock prodded her bottom. “Oh.” Her eyes snapped open. “What about you, Sir?”

  “I can wait. That was only one.” The smoothing of his hand over her hair lulled her again. “When we do the next thirteen, I’ll get mine.”

  Thirteen? She stiffened, then felt the stir of his body as he laughed against her back.

  “Not now, my lady.” He kissed her nape. “Now you will sleep in my arms. You’re weak. When you’re strong, I’ll test you.”

  That sounded ominous…and ever so thrilling. “Okay. Mmm, good.” Comforted by his strength once more by her side, she let herself slide toward sleep. Something held her back. Thoughts ticked over. Oh. Yes. That.

  “Sir,” she whispered.

  “Mmm.”

  “I want to tell Theo…about making Zigzag drop the book on your foot. If I’m to stay here, I want to be honest. I don’t want you to have to lie to him either. That would make me feel awful.”

  The silence stretched a while.

  “Thank you. I hoped you would say that.”

  He had? “What would you have done, if I didn’t?”

  “Convinced you to say it anyway.”

  “Oh.” Insufferable man. She yawned. “I should have guessed that.” This time, when she shut her eyes, sleep claimed her.

  Chapter Thirty-Five

  The unseasonal cold, windy weather had gone. As they walked from the mansion toward the heavy timber picnic table, Sofia found herself feeling so alive.

  In the distance, among the outlying buildings of House Kevonis, soldiers and house servants and others walked about. Machinery grumbled from one of the sheds. A crack now and then sounded like someone shooting—but there was a rifle range over that way.

  Being outside after all these days in bed was glorious. Her muscles w
ere bouncy. She wanted to bounce. Crazy, crazy, crazy. Her head buzzed with energy.

  The grass under her sandals made her want to bend down and feel it. The sky was edible blue, there were birds singing, and the air was so fresh after eau de la June upstairs. The woman used enough perfume to drown a kitten. It had made her nose itchy.

  Forget allergies.

  If ever she’d had a spring in her step, it was now, today, with her hand in Dankyo’s.

  Calm down, there’s serious stuff coming. Career stuff, Dankyo had told her. And she had to tell Mr. Kevonis about Zigzag.

  Dankyo squeezed her hand. “You’re smirking, my lady.”

  “Smirking? I’m grinning with restraint. This day is so beautiful.”

  He grunted. “Well, don’t look too happy. Theo has yet to decide all of what he wants to do. I’m on your side, though, don’t forget that.” He sent her an inquiring glance.

  That sounded a little more complicated. Wasn’t the cryptography job sorted out? She’d thought it finalized and just needing a rubber stamp.

  “I won’t.” On your side wasn’t quite I love you, but it was close. He’d not said that in a while. Maybe he’d just forgotten.

  She almost sighed. I don’t need him saying it every five minutes, do I?

  They’d reached the table. Theo sat at the head, and Claire to his left. An assortment of dishes was set on the table before them. Simple fare—sausages and sliced ham, golden bread rolls, sauces, butter, salads, and goblets of wine that reflected blinding glints of sun.

  “Afternoon, Dankyo, Sofia.” He gestured at the chairs to his right. “Be seated. You here, Sofia.” He patted the nearest place setting. “I thought we should make this a quiet meal. The chefs are off at the wedding of a friend. It will be just us, and private. I’ve given orders we aren’t to be disturbed.”

  Faced with doing it, with speaking, she was nervous. Confronting Theo with her strange abilities seemed terribly unwise. But Claire beamed in an encouraging way, and despite the food weighing down the table, Theo put a goblet of red wine in her hand and made her swallow some first.

  “Now.” He leaned back in his chair and waited. “Dankyo has explained somewhat, but I’d like to hear it from you, Sofia.”

  Anxiety jumped up and grabbed her by the throat, tight enough to make a big lump appear right in the middle of where she wanted to swallow. Where to start? She plucked at the puffed sleeve of her little yellow dress.

  He nodded slightly, then hinted. “Zigzag?”

  How much had Dankyo said? She held down a scowl, gripped the stem of her wineglass like it was a life preserver, and dived in.

  “Yes…Zigzag. He dropped a book on Dankyo’s foot because I made him do it with these”—she wrinkled her nose—“clockwork powers.” Theo raised a brow. “I didn’t mean to, but I was a bit cross.”

  Thus began a little interrogation scene.

  “Do you get cross often?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “Have you ever wanted to do something bad to other people here?”

  Oh God. The truth? “Only little things. I suppose…yes. One of the guards laughed when I tripped up the stairs. I’m sure I thought of something bad happening to him.”

  “And did it?”

  “No! Of course not. Zigzag, though…it just happened. Afterward I figured it out. I felt how I’d influenced him.”

  “Yes?” Theo slowly tapped his fingers on his thighs. He seemed quite unperturbed.

  “So. I’m sorry. I wanted to make sure I didn’t get between you and Dankyo.”

  “You haven’t. Was that your only reason for telling me?”

  “Umm. Yes?” Where was he going?

  “You have the ability to kill many people.” Her stomach sank, and she was sure her face showed her distress, but Theo continued. “And yet, you see no other reason here?”

  “No.” She pleaded with her eyes. Don’t go there, please.

  And that’s when she realized Dankyo had done more than say a little to Theo. The bastard had spilled it all. She just knew. Why was she here? What had they concocted? Even Claire was being demure and giving her no clues at all, hiding behind her wine goblet as she sipped.

  “How much did Dankyo tell you? Everything?”

  She cast a wary look over her shoulder, but Dankyo only whispered, “Eyes front.”

  “Sofia, he told me that he’d asked you to think very hard about what to do about your ability to command clockwork.”

  Damn. She gulped down some wine, put the glass back on the table, but held the stem so tight her finger hurt. “What do you want me to do?”

  “You don’t want to suggest anything?”

  “No,” she whispered. “No. I want to forget all that.”

  Dankyo massaged her shoulder. “You can’t, my lady. You know that.”

  “I agree.” Theo shifted forward. “You don’t have that leeway. I give you a choice. You know that I can arrange for your cryptography job to be done from here, at my estate. I have government clearance through my own duties. That job still stands, but only providing you undertake to learn more about what you can do. I want you to practice small things. Things that do not strain you. I want you to learn what happens when you are angry. You need control of this. That will not happen from ignorance. Once we know this, then you may stop. Only then.”

  She held the bridge of her nose, wavering between looking at Theo and her feet. “I can’t. I really can’t. It will bring back to me all those I killed.”

  This time Dankyo pulled her back onto his lap. With his hand around her waist, he stroked her hair and cheek. “You have to. Be strong. I know you can be strong.”

  That woke her to reality. Here he was treating her like some baby. Dankyo was right, she could be strong. She’d been the pilot of her own life for many years before she met him. It was so easy to use him for a crutch, though.

  “If you don’t do this, the only other choice will be for me to reveal to my government what you are. Thus far, we have kept this secret. If I cannot see a future that is safe, you will have to leave here.”

  “Which will not happen,” Dankyo murmured. “Because you are going to do this. I will help you test yourself. I won’t let you hurt yourself again. It will be safe.”

  She had killed. They were right. Far better to face this than accidentally kill again because of some terrible error.

  Sitting in his lap made it easier, though. She soaked up his strength, then took a big breath. “Okay. I will. I’ll do this.” Slowly she wiggled her smaller hand under his large one, curled her fingers. “Thank you.”

  He kissed her nape. “No. Thank you.”

  And it was settled. Though she hated the idea, it was done. “I’m getting tired of discussing all these weird things. Haven’t you anything normal for me to do, to think about?”

  “Normal?” She could almost hear him think. “How is this? My ex-girlfriend is here. Kirsten. She may hate you.”

  Ah.” She nodded, screwed up her mouth. “That I can handle. We’ll just duel at dawn.”

  The tweak at her hair made her gasp. “She can throw knives, my lady. Claire taught her.”

  Across the table, Claire came to life. “What? Kirsten? Uh, yes she can.”

  “Really? My goodness.” She gently elbowed Dankyo. “Well, then I’ll just hide behind you.”

  “Me? I went to Byzantium to get away from her.”

  Though he seemed to try to hold it in, Theo Kevonis laughed silently.

  That statement was so stunning, she chuckled too. Dankyo was scared of this Kirsten? This might be fun. “Anyone care to take bets?”

  Claire shrugged, then grinned. “I’m not taking bets. Last I saw, your man was running away fast as he could.”

  The growl from Dankyo vibrated into her back and made the hairs rise on her arms.

  “Claire,” he said. “I think maybe you should run.”

  Oh boy.

  “Well. How is this?" As if she hadn’t just been threatened subt
ly by a man twice her weight, Claire cocked her head and seemed to pretend to study the reflection in her glass. “I’ll help Sofia say hello to Kirsten. Seriously”—she looked at Sofia—“Kirsten’s nice, just a bit umm…mad at times. You’ll get on fine.”

  “Mad?” Dankyo tut-tutted dismissively. “That is an understatement.”

  Who to believe? She leaned in, put her elbow on the table and spoke softly to Claire. “I’ll do that. Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome.” The broad smile from Claire made her feel just that—welcome, very much so.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Sofia sat between Dankyo’s legs and looked out over the river. Weeds and logs floated slowly by. The picnic basket with its stock of steaming pies and mulled wine had been unpacked. The gyrocopter was cooling down over in the big clearing to the left. She twisted her mouth. Not her favorite activity—flying in one of those always made her want to kiss the ground and set fire to the gyro when she stepped out. The things were positively unnerving.

  “Cold?” Dankyo pulled her in even closer, wrapped his arms across her breasts, and breathed right in her ear, which made her giggle. “I know how to get you warmer.”

  “Really, Sir?”

  “Yes. And, I like how easily Sir comes to your lips now.”

  She closed her eyes as he brushed her hair from her cheek and ran his hand over her. So tender. She’d never have guessed all those weeks ago how gentle this big man could be. Sometimes he was the opposite, but she loved that too, maybe more. Just thinking about him being sadistic made her shiver and her nipples poke out. Delicious.

  She relaxed and cuddled in. The thought that had been niggling at her for a while surfaced again. It had to be done. “Are you any good at writing letters, Sir?”

  “Of course. I’m always writing them as part of my duties. In time of war, I’ve had some bad ones to write. Why?”

  “I want to write to my family and tell them about you, about us and House Kevonis, about my job. My father may not read it, but I want my mother to know. She’d be happy I’ve found a man to settle down with. Could you help me write one, maybe add your own to the package I send? Please?”