Yes.
He cupped the base of her skull in his palm so she couldn’t escape, not that she would ever try. “How are the clamps? Tight enough?” Rather than waiting for a response, he tugged on the chain, making her moan. “The clovers would be better if we were having a long, drawn-out scene, wouldn’t they?” He exerted more force, not a lot, just enough. “They’d stay on, tightening even, if I yanked.”
His words were enough to make her thoughts collide.
He dropped the chain, and the slight downward force shot pleasure through it. It wasn’t from the clamps, she realized with shocking clarity, but from his proximity.
Mason took a breath and studied her nipples. “A little swollen already. The compression marks will be sexy. I can’t wait to see them.”
Which no doubt meant he wouldn’t be loosening the slide anytime soon.
Instead of moving on, he pinched one of her nipples. The pain was sensational. He backed off a little to roll it gently, soothing the hurt he’d inflicted. Just as she closed her eyes, he squeezed again, dragging her back to full consciousness.
“That’s better,” he said when her attention was focused on him.
A few seconds later, he loosened his grip and traced his way down her rib cage. The nipple he hadn’t touched throbbed with demand.
He skimmed across her pubic area, then eased a finger between her pussy lips. “It seems you like what we’re doing.”
“What you’re doing.”
“No mistake, Hannah. This is us. Not me. If you weren’t into it, it wouldn’t matter how I handled you—roughly or with care. Your mind has to be in the right place for this to be so arousing.”
In that case, he was definitely right.
He made the tiniest of circles on her clit. If he continued that, she would come in seconds. Silently asking for that, she jutted her hips forward. Inside her, the toy moved, ratcheting up her desire.
“I want to know how full the plug makes you.”
Again, she knew he wasn’t asking for her permission but rather telling her what he was going to do, which increased the power of his mindfuck.
He slid two fingers inside her. From that position, he could reach her G-spot. But, horrible torment that he was, he didn’t. Instead, imprisoning her gaze as surely as he did her head, he began to insert a third finger.
There was no way she could do this. She was too full of the plug to take any more of him.
“You’re wet enough.” His voice soothed, as if he read her fears. “You’ve got a slow word and a safe word. If it hurts, be sure to tell me to stop. But if it’s just your brain trying to convince you that you can’t, that you shouldn’t, that it’s impossible, then try to work through it. I’ve got you.” His words were hypnotic. She was half-aware of him relentlessly persisting, not changing a single thing. “Remember the submissive at the club? What did her top do to her?”
“Placed her feet in the stirrups, Sir.” He was right that her pussy was slick for him. He was stretching her, and it was a little uncomfortable, mostly because she was standing, but it didn’t hurt in the least.
“What was he doing?”
“Examining her.”
“Yes. He wasn’t allowing her any secrets, was he? He wanted to see every part of her.”
Technically, the woman had on a T-back thong, but it had covered so little that it was all but useless. Watching sub and Dom play together had been hot. And the knowledge that Mason remembered what aroused her gave her a cupful of courage.
He spread his fingers then, and she was full of him. Keeping his gaze on her, he simulated having sex, working back and forth, a little deeper each time, demanding more from her and her body.
Putting her hands on him for reassurance, she bent her knees a little more.
Dark spikes of approval appeared in his green eyes. That her actions pleased him made her soar. She could survive for days from that.
He placed his thumb on her clit and compressed the swollen flesh.
“God almighty.” She grasped him tighter.
“Can you come?”
“Sir… I’m not…” Not sure. There was so much pressure, too many sensations, and she wasn’t sure her body was capable of more.
“If you can, you may.”
She closed her eyes in surrender.
“That’s it, Hannah. Give yourself over to me. I’ll keep you safe.”
He circled her clit as he relentlessly filled her pussy. Could he feel the plug sliding around?
Impossibly, he silently asked for more, stretching her. Harsher… All his fingers? His knuckles? No. He couldn’t be doing what she imagined. Could he? There was no way she was capable of that.
Then he kissed her, with infinite tenderness. That was too much. The combination of his taste, his demands, the way he handled her, the pain, the torment, the way her clit throbbed.
He rubbed her clit, and she had to turn her head to escape him so she could scream out her orgasm.
There was a wrinkle in the time-space continuum, and when she returned from the stratosphere, he was murmuring her name. She liked the sound of it so well that she didn’t respond for a moment.
“You’re more than I could have imagined.”
Mason was still cradling her head, supporting her body, but she had dropped her hands. He brushed across her clit once again, then withdrew from her pussy. Every part of her ached, but she wasn’t distressed in the least. “We didn’t just do what I thought we did. Did we?” She frowned, trying to piece together exactly what had happened, but there were too many sensations to sort through. “Tell me that didn’t just happen.”
“Well, if you think you were amazing, that happened.” He grinned. “And if you came when I played with your clit, that happened. Inspecting you? That also happened.”
“But… I mean. I can’t… I haven’t.” She shook her head. “Never.”
“Yeah. You can. You have.”
“In that case, I might be a little freaked out.”
He picked her up and carried her to the couch. She expected him to sit next to her. Instead, he scooped her into his lap.
His cock was hard, yet he said nothing about it, seemingly focused exclusively on her.
“Let’s get the nipple clamps off. At least for the time being.”
He pinched the tweezer tip between a finger and thumb as he lowered the slide mechanism. Then very slowly, he eased it off so that blood flow didn’t return in a rush. “How’s that?”
“That’s good.”
Gently, he continued to massage her.
When he released her, he studied the small indention left behind. “That’s really hot.”
She was still in a daze as he removed the other one.
“Are you warm enough?” He dropped the clamps onto the side table, then wrapped his arms around her.
“I am now.” Hannah was glad for the respite from the scene. At the club, he hadn’t pushed her far enough, and now she was satiated.
He was a fabulous Dominant. Over the years, she’d played with a few men, but none had been this masterful, demanding, and at the same time, approving.
From somewhere in the house, a clock chimed. “Midnight?”
“The witching hour. Ready to go upstairs? Or would you like to continue?”
“Really?” She’d fully expected him to ask for sex after that. No other man had just satisfied her like that, then offered to go on.
“Really.” The word was rich with promise as well as warning. Purposefully, he glanced at the rolltop desk.
Suddenly, she had to know. Their time together ended Sunday night, and she returned to Austin midmorning on Monday. This might be a dream, and if it was, Hannah wanted to revel in all the details. “In that case, yes. I’d like to continue.”
His eyes brightened. When she’d first studied him, they’d appeared dark, like jade. Now they were more complex, with specks of gold dust.
“I have two choices for you, Hannah.”
She shuddere
d at the purposeful gleam in his eyes.
“Do you want to start with your face forward so that I flog your backside first?” He released her hand. “Or shall we begin with your front so that I can wrap the strands around your breasts, maybe catching your nipples?”
Chapter 6
Mason had never been more enchanted by a submissive. When his father was dying, Deborah’s selfishness had left Mason wary of relationships, and now Hannah’s sweet innocence filled voids he didn’t realize he had. He was known as a Dom who took care of the women he spent time with, but this went beyond that. As he’d driven Hannah to his home, his thoughts had been consumed with ways to satisfy her and ensure their weekend was one she’d always remember.
Her unusual-colored eyes were so expressive that she couldn’t hide her thoughts from him. Shock. Anticipation. Impatience. Guardedness. Even a soft glow of happiness.
The range of emotions pleased him. Although she didn’t know what to expect, she trusted him to set the pace. That she’d done something that stunned her made him proud. Never had he been more aware of his power as a Dom. He savored it. Treasured it. “I suppose there’s a third option. You can allow me to make the decision.”
“Uhm… Facedown. If it’s okay with you, Sir.”
“It is, indeed.” He jostled her from his lap. “Please go to the table and bring me some rope.”
As she crossed the room, her hips swayed a little more than normal, maybe because of the plug. Which was incentive to use a bigger one.
Tapping his fingers on his knee, he remained where he was and waited for her to bring him the hemp. He’d selected red because it would be a sensational contrast to her pale skin. He wasn’t wrong.
After he finished securing her ankles to the front legs of the desk, he stepped back, happy with his choice.
He walked around to the far side and asked her to extend her arms as far as was comfortable. Two minutes later, her body was beautifully arched, conforming to the curve of the rolltop. “If I can keep you like this, I will be inspired to use my study more.”
She tested her bonds. They had enough give that she could move a little, but not escape. He looked forward to watching her writhe. “Are you comfortable?”
“It’s not exactly a spa experience, Mason.”
He laughed. “Allow me to rephrase. Are any of your muscles or joints suffering from undue stress?” Some was normal. He intended for her legs to be spread wide, making her body available to him.
“No, Sir.”
“And your circulation is okay?”
“Yes.”
Even though she said so, he double-checked his knots, making certain he could place a finger between her and the rope. “And the plug is still settled nicely in your bottom?”
She whispered something that might have been, “Oh God.”
“I’m afraid I didn’t hear you.”
“It’s fine, Sir.” She tried to lift her head, but her movements were too restricted. “Thank you.”
“That’s what I thought you said.” After collecting the flogger, he returned to dance the strands over her body. “This won’t be about counting, so don’t bother, unless it’s something that gives you peace. I’ll keep on until I decide you’ve had enough.” There was no way he’d come anywhere close to her needing a safe word. He intended for this to be arousing, not punishing. “No part of your body will be off-limits to me.”
Obviously knowing what he meant, she tightened her buttocks and pulled against her bindings, trying to bring her legs together. “That won’t save you, darling Hannah.” He slapped her ass hard with his hand.
She yelped, then relaxed her body.
“Much better.” He stepped back, then adjusted his stance and distance so he could warm up her rear.
With a figure-eight motion, he covered her ass cheeks until they were a delicate pink.
She drew in a breath, then expelled it, which allowed the wood beneath her to support her torso. “That’s it.”
He moved up to flog her back with the suede, and after a few minutes, he wrapped the falls around her ribs, then the sides of her breasts. “Are your nipples getting hard again?” Not giving her time to answer, he went on. “Maybe you should rub them against the desk, just to be certain.” Since the rolltop portion was made up from dozens of slats, there would be plenty of friction.
He put extra force in the next forty or so strokes, ensuring she’d move around.
“Mason! That’s—”
“I could clamp your nipples again, if you prefer?”
“No, Sir!” She pressed herself even farther into the desk, and he slid a finger into her heated pussy.
“I might start to think that you like this, Hannah.”
“I do!”
So did he. “I like watching you. Keep it up, please.”
While she writhed, he changed his angle so he could flog her upper thighs, close, so very close to her waxed pussy.
Her breaths came in frantic bursts, and he knew it took some effort for her not to surrender to her instinctive urge to protect her most private parts.
To keep her guessing, he returned to her ass cheeks. They glowed from his attention. Once again, he realized that selecting the red rope had been the right choice. It was now the same color as her skin, and the hemp would forever remind him of this evening.
Her chest no longer rose and fell so desperately, so he took that moment to land a stroke between her thighs, wrapping upward, between her delicate folds.
She screamed his name.
“Another? Ten? Twenty.”
“Yes, yes!” With greater fervor, she ground her breasts into the antique piece as he flogged her pussy with the most delicate licks.
Instead of satisfying her again, he turned away and tossed the flogger on the chair. Her reactions, the musky, feminine scent of her submission, enveloped him. He needed to be inside her, claim her as his own.
Her chest heaved, and he studied her, each rapidly fading mark, and the few pink spots on the sides of her breasts. Through his trousers, he stroked his erect dick. A weekend wasn’t nearly long enough for him to drink his fill of her.
Ignoring his cock’s incessant demand, he strode to her and unfastened her wrists, checking that they weren’t too red. Then he knelt next to her to release her ankles. Being this close to her, smelling her heat, spiked his arousal.
He had tremendous self-control, but at this moment, all his resolve was being tested.
She remained where she was, her beautiful body limp.
“How are you doing?” He stroked her heated back, the warmth in contrast to the coolness of the room.
“Sir, you are just amazing.”
“I think the same of you, Miss Hannah.” He helped her up, and she turned herself toward him. Trusting.
He led her to the couch and covered her with the throw. She snuggled into him, and he lost track of the amount of time he held her.
When the clock chimed a single time, she lifted her head. “One o’clock?”
“Twelve thirty, I’m guessing.” He doubted their scene had lasted an hour, but it was possible. When he was with her, the minutes ticked by too fast. “Tired?”
“Somewhere beyond that, I think.”
He’d given her a lot. “Let’s go to bed.”
Since she didn’t seem capable of moving, he placed his hands on her hips and assisted her up. “You can be asleep within five minutes. Promise.”
“I’ll hold you to that.” She kept the small blanket around her as they walked into the foyer.
“Shall I bring up your bag?”
“I’d appreciate that.”
She moved up the stairs slowly, as if she had leaden feet. He wasn’t sure whether to show some sympathy or congratulate himself on a job well done.
“Will you show me the rest of the house tomorrow?”
“Of course. You can explore to your heart’s content. It’s the door at the end of the hallway.” Though he favored restoration over renovation in h
istoric homes, he liked his creature comforts. He’d converted what had originally been a nursery into a good size closet, and he’d converted a bedroom in to a private bathroom.
He flicked on the light switch.
“This is huge,” she exclaimed.
The space was masculine, with a large wardrobe and a four-poster king-size bed. His designer had filled the fireplace opening with candles he’d never lit. But he’d adorned the mantel with pictures of his parents, including the last one he had of his father. It had been taken just weeks before his death. Despite his gaunt features, his smile was wide and hopeful, filled with love.
Mason had added the newest photo last week. Though he’d had it for six months, it had been difficult for him to put it with the rest of the collection. The snapshot was one of his mother, with her boyfriend. Time moved on, Mason recognized. But acceptance was more difficult than anticipated. She deserved to be happy. God knew that. But maybe she could have fallen in love another year from now.
Then again, who knew if he would still struggle?
Tired of brooding, he returned his attention to Hannah. “The bathroom is through there.” He pointed.
“Thank you.” She walked toward it, and he followed her.
When she saw the room, she gasped. “This looks like something out of a magazine.”
“I thought you’d like it.”
“You must have been smiling downstairs when I told you that the rolltop desk wasn’t exactly a spa experience. Because this really is one.”
He grinned. It was. Because he’d constructed with resale value in mind, each detail had been inspired by the city’s high-end spas. Though he appreciated the steam shower and used it every day during the winter, he’d stopped noticing the mosaic tile floor. On rare occasions, he opened a drawer. But he almost never used the cabinets.
His housekeeper laundered the towels periodically to keep them fresh. How she had the patience to re-roll them each month or so and tie them with some sort of thick purple string and stack them in symmetrical piles of three, he had no idea.
Now he was glad. “There’s a basket over there filled with soaps.” He pointed to a teakwood bench. “Another has hair stuff, shampoos and whatnot. I was promised it was good stuff that ladies like.”
His to Claim Page 8