Master of Hearts: A Domination And Submission Romance Anthology

by Erika Masten

  Blowing out a deep breath, he pushed away and took my hand. "Come on. I think we can find a more comfortable spot than the entryway," he said, laughing softly.

  Feeling boneless with desire, I glanced around as he led me through the front hallway toward a curving staircase that led to the second floor. The place was nice. Although the building was old, it had been renovated inside. The gleaming parquet floors accented several oriental carpets that looked, to my untrained eye, handmade and beautiful. The living room opened on one side of the front hall, and a formal dining room was on the opposite side. There was a cherry dining room set and a lot of nice china in the matching glass-fronted cabinet. The living room furniture looked comfortable rather than elegant, but it was spotless and colorful. There was art on the walls.

  "This is your house? It's beautiful. I live in a ratty student apartment."

  "I hired a decorator. I'm not good at that stuff. I hardly even notice my surroundings when the code is flowing."

  A decorator? Hacking must pay better than I'd ever realized.

  "How long have you lived here?"

  "Two years. Come. We're going upstairs."

  The second floor was really cool. It was a gigantic loft. He must have knocked out all the interior walls and eliminated the third story altogether, because the whole place had cathedral ceilings and impossibly tall windows that looked out on the grounds. It was divided into sections by a few strategically placed potted plants.

  There was a bedroom area to the right of the stairs, dominated by an enormous wooden bedstead. On the opposite side of the loft were multiple computers, giant screens and other electronic equipment, not all of which I could identify. There was a den-like area at one end of the room with the largest TV screen I had ever seen and a variety of black leather couches and easy chairs. Crowded bookshelves lined two of the walls. There was a work-out area, too, with benches and free weights. Near the bed was a large round hot tub with a tiled area surrounding it. There were a couple of doors on that side, which I assumed led to bathrooms and closets; otherwise everything was open.

  "This is amazing. It's the sort of place I'd expect someone like Alec Cranmore with all his billions to live in."

  He paused for a moment on our way to his bed. "Other than bumping into him, have you actually met Alec?"

  "I applied for a job at his company. I thought I might get it, too, until I ruined his shot and made a spectacle of myself."

  "I doubt that will hurt your chances if you're qualified for the job."

  "Really? Did you see the look on his face?"

  "I've known Alec for years. He doesn't care about shit like that. He hires the best people for the job."

  "Do you work for him?" I asked, remembering, with some embarrassment, my guess that he might have been Alec's driver.

  "I've done some consulting for his company. Techie stuff. But, no, I don't work for other people. I prefer to run my own firm."

  "You like to lead?"

  He shrugged. "I don't like to follow."

  "Well, you're a great raid leader in Hunt the Night City."

  He shrugged. "That's a game. If you spoke with some of the techies who work for me, you might hear other opinions. I've been accused of being a ruthless slave driver, using people, making them work too hard, etc. I'm not exactly worshipped. Just so you know. Mr. Nice Guy I'm not."

  He stopped a couple of feet from the bed and stepped away from me. I looked at him standing there, looking sinister again, and said, "When I saw you, I thought because you looked kinda scruffy and tough that you must be—" I found myself searching for the right way to express myself, "I don't know, a thug or something. Dangerous."

  "How do you know I'm not? Dangerous?"

  "I guess I don't. But you were the only one who wasn't ogling me in the bar when Andy wouldn't give me back my shirt."

  "I ogled. I just tried to do it when you didn't notice. You were embarrassed enough."

  "Did you know who I was then?"

  He shook his head. "No. Not until you told me your name. Best surprise of the night. So far. Now strip. I want to see those beautiful breasts of yours again."

  His voice had turned hard; it was an order, and it made my sex clench and my head swim.

  "You're some kind of dominant master type, aren't you?" I asked, acknowledging for the first time what I'd already known from his behavior with me.

  "Yes. I'm going to dominate you. It's natural for me. Just as it's natural for you to submit."

  "I don't...I've never..."

  "Trust me, Jo."

  How did he know? I'd known I was different for years. I just hadn't told anyone.

  In high school I'd always yearned for the distant, unavailable type. If he was tall and tough-looking, he'd usually catch my eye. He didn't have to be football player strong or prom king handsome, but he did have to have a wicked gleam in his eye. Bad boys.

  The bad boys never seemed interested in me, though. So I dated a bit, and experimented with sex like all teenagers, but it was disappointing. The stuff I dreamed up was always so much better than anything that happened with the fumbling, inexperienced guys I dated.

  In college the guys were more experienced, but they still didn't do it for me. I liked the closeness and intimacy of sex, but it was hard for me to let go. One of my boyfriends tried to figure out what turned me on the most, but he couldn't bring me to orgasm, although I faked it with him a few times because he tried so hard.

  I knew my problem wasn't physical, because I could get myself off easily enough. But I couldn't admit to a partner what I was fantasizing about when I masturbated.

  The hottest fantasies, the ones that made me come explosively, had always been kinky. Fantasy forced sex with gorgeous, ruthless males. Handcuffs. Ropes. Whips and paddles. Blindfolds. When I was younger I'd been afraid I was a freak, but internet erotica had made me realize that I wasn't alone. I'd never met someone who wanted to dominate me, though, until that sexting thing with Dax. He'd taken control, ordered me about, made me do things. He had mastered me and made me melt. It had been so smooth, so easy, so thrilling that I had been totally blown away.

  Afterwards, though, I'd been anxious about it, particularly because of the picture. I'd tried to forget it had happened. I'd kept playing the game with him as if nothing had changed. I'd started seeing Andy, pretending that vanilla sex was all I really wanted.

  But Andy had been pretending, too.

  "Stop thinking," Dax said. He pulled by whiskey-stained top over my head and tossed it on the floor. Then he took one step back. "Take your clothes off."

  My bra had a front clasp. Easy to reach, but my fingers were trembling, which made me awkward. I was so nervous. What if I couldn't let myself enjoy the experience? I didn't want to disappoint him.

  He waited, looming over me. I could feel the heat of his body, and I could see what his tight jeans were unable to hide—he was as aroused as I was.

  I unhooked all the tiny hooks and slipped out of the bra. I sucked my tummy in and arched my back while his blue eyes devoured me. When his fingers moved to touch me, my spine arched even more, all by itself. Light touches at first, so light they tortured me. I could feel my nipples harden in his hands. His touch turned rougher as he pulled on and stretched out my nipples. He squeezed, which sent intense zinging sensations straight down into my sex.

  Without waiting for any further commands, I dropped to my knees before him and unbuckled the leather belt at his waist. The sound of his breath being sucked in thrilled me. I undid the button at the top and eased down his zipper.

  "Angel." I loved his voice—deep and dark as my favorite chocolate.

  No underwear. I smiled as his cock sprang out when I eased the cloth away. It was a fine cock. Large, thick and jaunty. It looked delicious. I touched it gently, silk over steel, then stroked firmly up and down. Bending forward, I pressed my tongue to the tip, then circled it, once, twice, three times.

  "Angel," he said again, his voice affectionate. "Yo
u have nothing to prove."

  I realized he was referring to the slur Andy had cast at me in the bar. Did I have something to prove, if only to myself? I looked up at him uncertainly, the spell broken. "Maybe I do. I've never felt that good at sex."

  Dax slid his hands under my arms and raised me up. "Don't let that dick Andy convince you of that."

  "No, really. It's hard for me to relax."

  "To come, you mean?"

  I blushed, hoping this wasn't going to turn into an extension of my already-packed night of humiliation. "I can get so far, but not all the way."

  He considered. "Why do you think that is?" There was no judgment in the question. Neither did he shrug it off. It sounded as if he believed me and was putting his analytical skills to work, something he did in-game all the time. Dax was a problem solver and he loved challenges.

  "I guess I'm trying too hard. I can't seem to abandon myself to the feelings."

  "In our game you're always organized, and you plan ahead. You like to control things, don't you?"

  "Not really. But if I don't exert some control, my life gets messy and disorganized."

  "Tonight you can leave the planning to me. Don't stress about your body and its feelings. Just let that go."

  I wasn't sure what he meant, exactly, but I loved the idea of not stressing.

  "You're going to love what I do to you because we have complementary natures," he went on. "You probably haven't been with anybody who knew your triggers before."

  "My triggers?"

  "Everyone has erotic triggers. I'll learn yours and you'll learn mine. But tonight I'm going to take you the way I want to. I might not even allow you to come." Leaning over me, he touched my cheek gently. "You okay with that?"

  I was ridiculously okay with it. The thought that I might not be permitted to come somehow removed all the pressure of having to prove my sexiness with an explosive orgasm. Plus, it was hot to think he could exercise that much my control over my body, which I couldn't even control myself.

  I nuzzled his neck then tipped my head back to kiss him. But his fingers covered my lips. "My kiss will be your reward," he said in an incredibly sexy voice. "I'll let you know when you've earned it. Now get on with stripping before I have to punish you."

  Heat flashed through me and my pussy clenched in what felt like a mini-climax. Holy shit, he was right about erotic triggers. Every time he gave me an order, I just about exploded.

  I obeyed. I tried to do it sexily, but I was in a hurry to get naked, get him naked, and get going.

  I slid out of my jeans. I knew a moment of the usual worry that maybe my hips were too big, but his admiring sound banished that fear. I wished I'd been wearing something smokin' like a thong, but I had on simple white bikini panties, nothing special. I hadn't bothered to dress sexy for Andy, I realized, struck again by how little I cared about that relationship coming to an end.

  I hesitated about removing the panties, though. Dax was still dressed, although his pants were open. "You take something off."

  He raised his eyebrows. "Sure." His voice sounded ominous. He ripped his leather belt out of the loops in his unzipped pants and put it against my cheek. The fetishy scent of leather went right to my brain. He looped the belt around my neck, and tightened it.

  I just about flipped out. The belt wasn't too tight. I had no trouble breathing. But something about having his belt around my neck was so incredibly intense that I could hardly think. I wanted him inside me, now, immediately. It felt as though he had claimed me.

  One of his hands went to the back of my neck, under my hair, while the other wandered over my breasts. His forefinger circled a nipple until it pebbled. He brushed it with the ball of his thumb. He was several inches taller than me, and his body was built—hard and strong—his clothing was tight enough to make that plain. He smelled musky and masculine.

  The hand on the back of my neck glided down the groove of my spine to my panties. His finger slipped into my ass crack, startling me. He parted me and delved forward, finding me wet. I squirmed against his body. His cock was hard and huge. I could feel it twitch against my belly. As his finger probed between my labia, a moan escaped me.

  "Please," I urged, pulling at his shirt, trying to drag it off him.

  "Ssh." He caught my hands to stop my eager caresses. "Did I say you could touch me?" He turned me around and recaptured my wrists, which he brought together behind my back. He made me walk forward, awkwardly, to the bed, where he pressed me down so I was lying on my stomach. "Keep your hands together." I heard the sound of a drawer opening in his bedside table, and then he was wrapping my wrists in leather cuffs. I had fantasized about stuff like this. As he pulled the restraints tight, my pussy pulsed again.

  Once my wrists were cuffed, he clipped them together. This left me lying face down on a king size bed. It was a big old-fashioned bed with ornate wooden frame and bedposts. The mattress was high. It was just about the right height for him to fuck me from behind while standing.

  Was that what he was going to do? He had already pulled the panties down over my ass, and now he jerked them down my legs and off. He explored my ass, rubbing, kneading. He spanked with the flat of his hand, and I writhed against the mattress.

  "Wow...that kinda hurts so good," I confessed.

  He laughed softly and slapped my butt cheeks harder. "If I do anything you don't like and you want to stop me, you know how to use a safeword, right?"

  "Mozart," I said.

  "That's your safeword? Mozart?"

  "If I'm feeling stressed, I put on his music, and it always calms me down."

  "Okay. Use it if you're in any kind of trouble. Don't hesitate. It might take me a while to learn what you like."

  "So far you're doing great."

  He must have bent over me because I felt his mouth lightly kiss the back of my neck. The belt remained in place around my throat. The leather smell continued to turn my blood to fire.

  I could hear him removing his clothes at last. I wanted to see him, but I stayed in the position he'd left me, not wanting to disobey. "Turn over," he said, as if reading my mind.

  I couldn't remain lying down comfortably with my hands tied behind my back, so when I twisted around I was half sitting, resting part of my weight on my linked hands. Dax put his palms on my thighs and pushed them apart, and then he stood between my legs, coming right up against the edge of the bed. His body was amazing—tall and lean, with firm, molded muscles everywhere. He looked as if he was built more for endurance and speed than strength, like a swimmer or a cross-country runner. I got the feeling he could go for hours, never growing weary.

  His upraised cock was pressed to my core, but I wanted it inside me. I couldn't believe how much I wanted it.

  He circled his hips, rubbing himself against me. I could see the blunt head, the slit, the moisture collected on the tip. He was awfully big. I hoped he wouldn't tear me with that thing...yet, in a twisted way, I kinda hoped he would.

  "I want you to suck me again. Slide down and kneel on the floor."

  The floor was uncarpeted parquet, which was a little hard on my knees, but I wasn't going to complain. The leather belt hung between my breasts. I imagined it flicking against my skin and wondered if he was going to whip me with it. The idea should have frightened me, but after those yummy slaps on my ass, the thought of being whipped excited me.

  Not having my hands free to help position his cock for my mouth made it a little awkward. He refused to help me. This was all so different from what I was accustomed to, where guys were so eager to get their dicks sucked that they would feed it into my mouth. He made me work for it, as if it were my desire, not his. And it was.

  I had to kneel up and stretch to get my mouth around him, and he thrust in hard as soon as I did. He made me gag. "Don't think I'm going to make this easy for you," he said in a cruel voice. "Show me what you can do. And make me love it."

  I swear, with any other man I'd be screaming "Asshole!" but I was in a place whe
re rough talk and harsh commands just sent me higher. I focused all my energy on pleasing him. I whirled my tongue up and down his massive dick, licking along its length and sucking him mightily as he withdrew. I circled the head with the tip of my tongue, and then flicked it across the slit, taking his pre-cum on my tongue and savoring it.

  He groaned as I switched to the sensitive spot underneath the rim. His next thrust practically cracked my jaw open, but I focused on breathing through my nose and managed not to gag. As I kept tonguing and sucking, he fucked my mouth slowly and fully, holding my head still with his fists in my hair and treating me more roughly than any man had ever done. He was treating me like a hole to be fucked while I exerted every atom of expertise I possessed and feared it wouldn't be enough to satisfy him.

  He began to speed up and I thought, good, good, it's working, but he groaned and withdrew. I could hear him breathing hard, and his hands were trembling a bit as they stroked my face, my cheeks, my throat.

  "You're amazing, Jo. Get back on the bed."

  As I climbed up, my knees aching from kneeling on the bare floor, Dax unclipped the cuffs holding my arms behind my back. He climbed on the bed with me, removed the belt from my neck and attached it to the headboard. Moments later my arms, pulled over my head, were lashed to the belt.

  "You're still not going to let me touch you?"

  "No."

  He was over me, on hands and knees, so I arched up to taste his arms and chest with my mouth. "Or kiss you?"

  "Not yet." His voice sounded breathless and hoarse. He placed one finger on my lips. I kissed it defiantly. Then I sucked it into my mouth. Dax's eyes looked dreamy and unfocused for a moment, then cleared. They were very blue, and his eyelashes were sinfully thick.

  With no warning, he slid down and started tonguing my pussy. I gasped and arched. I'd never liked it when Andy made his half-hearted attempts to pleasure me this way. But Dax did not approach the act as something to be endured. He said immediately, "Mmm, you taste so good. I've been wanting to do this to you for months. I'd sit at my computer, playing the game, and imagine sucking you here, and kissing you here," oh my god, he kissed my clit, "and tonguing you inside."