Master of Hearts: A Domination And Submission Romance Anthology

by Erika Masten

  Connect with Adriana on her website at http://www.AdrianaHunter.com and subscribe to her official newsletter at http://www.SpicyTales.com

  Color Me Blue

  by

  Linda Barlow

  Chapter One

  Angelique: Oof.

  Dax: Bad day?

  Angelique: Don't even ask.

  Dax: Tell me.

  Angelique: Just the usual. Classes, job interviews, elusive BF. Sometimes I wish my dark hero would ride up on his mighty steed and whisk me away from all this.

  Dax: I could do that.

  Angelique: LOL!

  Dax: You laugh, but someday when you least expect it, I'll throw U across my saddle & bear U off to my evil dungeon.

  Angelique: The evil dungeon better be somewhere other than your parents' basement :)

  Dax: /snort. Just because I got super twitch reflexes, I must be a high school kid?

  Angelique: If you're not at least 18 I'll feel pervy.

  Dax: Fully legal, I swear. 30 is looming.

  Angelique: Bullshit.

  Dax: OK fine, 27 is looming. Turn on Gamechat & hear my mature, sexy voice.

  Angelique: Not tonight, dear. I have a thing.

  Dax: What sort of thing?

  Angelique: Bar, friends, beer...that sort of thing.

  Dax: Thought you were going away with the dickhead BF.

  Angelique: Not til Sunday morning. And stop calling Andy the dickhead BF.

  Dax: I still think U should dump the guy & take a chance on me. U'd need a safeword, tho.

  Angelique: ROFL. Someone has been surfing kinky websites again.

  Dax: It's all part of my evil dungeon world domination plan.

  Angelique: Earth to Dax? Get your role straight, dude: You're my tank & I'm your healer...I heal U, you protect me from the monsters.

  Dax: I'll still protect U...U'll just be tied up at the time.

  Angelique: Dream on, Master.

  Dax: Babe, Ur gettin me hard.

  Angelique: Perv. Got 2 go. See ya later. Dungeon 2Nite—the gaming sort of dungeon, my friend :)

  Dax: Grrr...

  Angelique: But only if I'm home in time, ok?

  Dax: K. Laters, Angel.

  Later that evening...

  Four of us were sitting at a round table in our favorite college bar that night, laughing and drinking and talking about silly stuff when Hannah, one of my friends—the loudest one—said, "What was the most outrageously erotic thing that ever happened to you?"

  And because we'd finished the first pitcher of beer and were working on the second, she and Willow, Hannah's roommate, started volunteering. Andy, the guy I had been sorta seeing for the past couple of months, got up and headed for the bathroom. He wasn't totally comfortable with my friends yet and he probably didn't want to discuss erotic things. That was okay with me. I wasn't totally comfortable with Andy.

  Hannah and Willow each related a wild sexual escapade, then looked expectantly at me.

  I wracked my brain for an entertaining story. Sex, for me, was usually disappointing. I suspected there might be something wrong with me in that respect. The stuff I dreamed up was always so much better than anything that happened with any of the guys I dated.

  Andy, who hadn't returned from wherever he'd disappeared to, didn't thrill me, even though he was hot and seemed to regard himself as talented in bed. The only orgasms I'd had with him had been 100 percent fake.

  Dax, on the other hand...I felt heat come up in my cheeks as I remembered my mysterious online pal. We'd been hanging out together in our online computer game for several months now. It wasn't something I talked about much with my other friends. They thought it was lame that I enjoyed a role-playing fantasy game with a bunch of geek guys, but I'd been hooked on gaming for years.

  I liked Dax a lot, although I didn't know much about him. He seemed smart, although he never mentioned being at college. If he had a job, I'd no clue what sort of work he did. I did know he lived nearby because he had teased me more than once about getting together in real life. We'd flirted a bit, and once it had turned into some heavy sexting. As in mutual hands down the pants masturbating.

  "Okay, one time," I heard myself telling my friends, "I got naked with this guy I know from my computer game."

  There were laughs and woots from the table, and Hannah wanted details. I was glad Andy wasn't here to hear this story. It had happened before I'd started seeing him, so I didn't feel guilty about that, but it wasn't something I'd ever confessed.

  "We weren't together. It was a sexting thing."

  "But you got naked?"

  "Well, I took off my top. And my bra. And—" I paused, embarrassed. I was sure I wasn't the only idiot who had done something like this, but it wasn't the sort of behavior I usually indulged in. It was just that, that particular night, Dax had been so damn masterful and sexy. "I took a selfie of my breasts and sent it to him."

  I didn't mention the other thing that had gotten me hot—Dax had ordered me to pinch one of my nipples. "Hard," he'd said in a tone I'd never heard from him while gaming. "Do it hard, and slide your finger in your pussy at the same time. Think of me doing it to you. Think of me fucking you while I'm licking your breasts."

  When he told me to take the pic and email it to him, I hesitated, but I did it. And I basked in his praise when he admired the picture and told me I was beautiful.

  Later, after getting offline, I couldn't believe what I'd done. I'd heard too many horror stories about girls who were dumb enough to send naked photos to guys. At least it had only shown my boobs and not my face, but jeez, what a lame stunt to pull.

  But Dax had promised to keep the photo private, and it hadn't shown up on Facebook or anywhere else on the web. No one had ever teased me about it, so I guess he'd kept his word.

  The sexting thing hadn't happened again, either. Dax wanted more than sexting—he wanted to meet in real life. But it would be awkward meeting someone from the game. We all played larger than life characters. We made our avatars look attractive and super fit and we dressed them up in epic gear. I pictured Dax beating on vampires and orcs with his flashing broadsword while my magically-adept priestess healed his wounds.

  In the real world we were a couple of geeky kids, officially grown up, but still wishing ourselves back at Hogwarts.

  When my story, suitably edited, was finished, Hannah emptied her beer mug and set it back on the table. "We should go," she said to Willow. "Need some sleep. I have to get up early tomorrow to catch my plane." She and Willow started getting their things together. Spring vacation was beginning, and everybody was clearing out of town.

  "You've got a ride with Andy, right?" Willow asked me.

  "Yup," I said, wondering where the hell Andy was. He'd been gone awhile. Was he sick or something?

  Willow tossed down some cash for their part of the tab and we hugged goodbye. As I stepped back after hugging my friends, a nearby waitress stumbled, and her tray tipped sideways. Somebody's drink spilled all over me.

  This brought uproarious laughter from my friends and profuse apologies from the server. I apologized too, figuring my movement must have contributed to the accident. As the icy alcohol burned through the soft cotton fabric of my top, I wished another goodbye to the girls and fled toward the bathroom. I needed to wring out my top and retrieve the ice cube that had slid down my neck and snagged in my bra.

  I had to pass through the pool table area, which was mobbed. When I elbowed aside a couple of guys, one of them shoved me, and I went careening forward, right into some guy who had just lined up his shot.

  "Sorry," I mumbled as the cue thudded into my stomach and the shot went wild. Loud protests rose from all around the pool table. The shooter, obviously annoyed, turned on me.

  The man who had shoved me had caught my arm and was apologizing, but I hardly even glanced at him. The person whose shot I'd just ruined was Alexander Cranmore, the billionaire who ran the company where I'd just interviewed for a job.


  Panic engulfed me. "Oh my God, I'm so sorry." Way to go, Jo. Of all the people to bump into, it had to be him. Had I just ruined my chance to get that job?

  "No problem, Ms. Whitney," he said, surprising me by remembering my name.

  That was a good thing, right? I had interviewed with him yesterday. My third interview at the company. It had gone really well, and I had begun to be hopeful.

  "Are you okay?" he added. "I think my cue hit you, didn't it?"

  "I'm fine. I'm just that it's crowded and I was trying to get through to the ladies room." I gave him my biggest smile. "I'm so sorry I spoiled your shot."

  "It's just a game. You're sure you're not hurt?"

  "No, not at all, thank you."

  The other pool player, Cranmore's opponent, rounded the table and joined us. He was dark and scruffy, with hair that needed cutting and unshaven, stubbly cheeks. Compared to Cranmore, who was clean-cut and stylish even in a casual shirt and pants, the other guy looked rough, tough, and working class. He was also hot, in a dark, bad-boy, scary sort of way.

  I wondered if he worked for Cranmore. Maybe he was his driver or something, although the few drivers I'd met had looked a whole lot tidier.

  He nodded to me, but he didn't speak. I could see him taking in the sight of my wet cotton top sticking to my breasts. His eyes, cool and amused, met mine. There was no way Cranmore was going to win this game now. The townie, or driver, or whatever he was, would seize this advantage and use it to win. He liked to win.

  Which was probably just bullshit imagining on my part. Did I think I could read the guy's mind? There was something compelling about his eyes, though. They drew me in and scared me a little. I was glad it hadn't been his shot I'd ruined.

  Which made no sense, since my future working fate was in Cranmore's hands, not this dude's. "Excuse me, I need to get to the bathroom."

  Laughter. Some remarks too low to hear. I was the center of attention of about a hundred pool-loving, beer-quaffing bar patrons. Most of them were staring at my wet top.

  They let me go, but my cheeks were flaming. This was turning into the bar night from hell.

  Eager to find Andy and escape, I plunged through the people milling around in back and opened the door to the bathroom. As I rushed in, I was presented with an incomprehensible sight: A tall figure with a bare ass was turned away from me at about a three-quarter angle. The ass was male. So was the other dude kneeling on the floor in front of him, his mouth stretched wide, his hands working furiously. One hand was between the first guy's legs, and the other was digging into that ass and guiding the movements as the first guy plunged his dick back and forth in the second guy's mouth.

  What the hell? Then I noticed the urinals on the far wall. Ouch, my bad. This was the men's room. I'd been so desperate to get to the bathroom that I'd opened the first door.

  I stood there, gaping, transfixed by the sight of two guys getting off in the bar bathroom. For a couple of seconds all I could see was the thick reddish cock sliding in and out of masculine lips, being expertly serviced by a darting, flicking tongue. There were moans and gasps and sucking sounds.

  There was a palpable intensity in the act that sent a wave of heat flooding into my own sex. I'd never seen two men pleasuring each other. It was hot.

  A moment later, confusion descended as it struck me that I knew that cock, that ass. I knew those muscles now straining in his back as he reached for his pleasure. I knew those legs and those arms and the back of that head and even the groans that were issuing from his throat. It seemed impossible, but I knew.

  Andy, my boyfriend, was cheating on me with a guy.

  Chapter Two

  Pain splintered my chest, but the first thing I thought was, "How come he never fucked me like that?" Wasn't I passionate enough for him? Had I failed to give him what he'd needed?

  I tried to resist the down-on-myself crap. But it wasn't the first time something like this had happened. My last boyfriend had cheated on me, too. At least, in that case, my rival had been female. Was there something wrong with me that I couldn't keep a guy?

  Angrily, I beat the self-shaming down. This was not my fault. If Andy wasn't getting what he needed from me—a penis—he could have said so. How was I supposed to know he was into guys?

  They were so zoned by what they were doing that they hadn't even heard the door open. They continued to go at it with verve and enthusiasm while I stood there, my belly cramping, my cheeks flushed with shame and misery, and my blood pressure zooming up into the stroke zone.

  "Don't let me interrupt, Andy." I kept my voice as calm and cool as I could manage under the circumstances. "I mean, have fun and all. But we are so over."

  The rapid ass movements slowed and stopped. The guy on his knees made an odd noise and squeezed Andy's ass as if he couldn't believe his bad luck. As Andy pulled away from him, I heard the sound of breaking suction as the intimate connection was broken. He turned to face me, his dick hard and wet and his pants pooled below his knees. "Jo? What are you doing in here?"

  Was he going to try to make this my fault? I whirled and stumbled out, slamming the door behind me. As I fled I heard the other guy say, "Hey, come on back here, buddy. Gotta get me some more of that."

  I found the ladies' room and ducked inside. It was empty, thank God. I ran into a stall and latched the door. I pulled down my jeans and panties and dropped down onto the toilet. My heart was thundering and I couldn't seem to catch my breath. I was angry, sad, embarrassed, and weirdly, turned on. I shivered, and remembered the ice cube, which was melting all over my boobs.

  I wrenched my top off and wrung it out. I had to unsnap my bra to shed the melting ice. I smelled strongly of whiskey. Alec Cranmore must have thought I was staggering from drinking too much. So much for that job. But I couldn't even focus on that problem, not when I couldn't stop envisioning the sight of Andy's cock driving in and out of that other guy's mouth.

  Was Andy gay, bi, or just experimenting? Did it matter? Clearly I wasn't enough to hold his interest.

  I poked in my purse for some tissues to try to wipe the whiskey stains from my top. What was this red stuff? Had there been red wine on that tray, too? So it seemed. Fuck. Could this night get any worse?

  Yes, it could. The door to the bathroom opened and I heard footsteps stomping in. "Jo?" Andy's voice. "Are you in there?" He pounded on the door of my stall. "Babe? I'm really sorry. You're not going to be weird about this, are you? It was just, you know, an experiment. I'm not gay or anything."

  "Go away. I don't care what it was. We're done."

  "Don't say that, babe. Don't forget, we've got plane tickets for tomorrow and the hotel for a whole week in Myrtle Beach."

  "I can't go. Just leave me alone."

  "Shit, Jo," he whined. "What will I tell my parents? They're expecting you."

  Oh my God, was he serious? "Tell them you got caught with your dick in some dude's mouth and your girlfriend dumped you."

  "But, babe, it's a first class resort run by a chef who used to work in a three star restaurant in Paris. The golf'll be great and the cuisine amazing."

  The cuisine? The golf? I hauled up my jeans and opened the stall door. Andy, big, handsome, charming, and rich boy, who had probably gotten everything he had ever wanted, gave me a silly grin, thinking he had won me over. I pushed past him, refastening my bra. "It's over, Andy. I'm sorry. I thought you were straight."

  After washing my hands, I held my wet shirt under the hot air blower. Andy stood there, blinking at me, as a group of drunken girls swished open the door and crowded in. Seeing him, they squealed and began to giggle. "Dude! This is so wrong."

  "Eew. Get out of here."

  He looked rattled, backing away from the gang of girls. "Jo?" He lunged at me and grabbed my shirt right out of my hands. I reached for it, but he held the still-wet top over his head. "You need to listen to me," he pleaded, holding my shirt hostage.

  "I'd have listened if you'd told me weeks ago that you were gay."

/>   "But I'm not—"

  "It's totally cool if you are, but I don't like being lied to. I don't like being used. Give that back."

  Anger flashed on his face as the girls continued to mock him. He stormed out of the bathroom, taking my top with him. Shit! I only hesitated for a moment before following. So what if I was only wearing jeans and a bra? I'd worn bikinis plenty of times at the beach.

  He was right outside, waving my shirt like a toreador as I grabbed furiously for it. It took no time at all to attract the attention of everyone at that end of the bar. They were more interested in my topless condition than in whatever Andy was doing. Hoots ensued.

  This evening was turning into a humiliation feast with me as the centerpiece. The sound system was playing some gloomy, bluesy tune, which matched my sinking mood.

  "Jo-anna," Andy yelled over the music and the crowd noise. "I was drunk! It meant nothing, I promise you. I'm really into you."

  I was surprised at the way he was acting. Andy never went out of his way to draw attention. Maybe he was worried about what his parents would think when he showed up alone. They had been delighted to meet me the previous month. Had they been relieved to think of him with a woman? Had I unknowingly been his heterosexual cover? No wonder he'd insisted I meet his folks after we'd only been dating for a month. I'd thought it was premature.

  The bar was even more crowded than it had been a few minutes before. At least the pool game I'd interrupted was over. A couple of guys I didn't recognize were chalking up their cues.

  Andy pounced on me and jerked me against him. I tried to fight him off, but he was way taller and stronger than me.

  "Let go of me." I struggled, trying to break free.

  "Can't we talk about it? I swear to you, it'll never happen again."

  Everybody was staring at us. This was horrible. I wanted to sink through the floor and disappear. "Get your hands off me."

  He didn't. He continued to clutch me, one of his hands clumsily fondling my breast and almost getting it out of the bra. Was he trying to prove he liked women? I twisted, feeling absolutely miserable and needing to get away from him.