by Desiree Holt
Since they’d been together, the only time she wore panties when she left the house was when she went out alone. Otherwise—Cord’s Rules—her pussy was to be readily accessible. And waxed regularly, because he demanded bare flesh. Smooth flesh.
“Excellent.” He pinched the lips together lightly. “Remember what I told you in the beginning. I want to be able to touch you like this whenever it pleases me. To know what’s mine is available whenever I feel the urge.” Lifting his hand to his mouth, he licked her essence from his skin. “Better than any fine brandy. I like knowing I can carry your scent on my hands, your taste in my mouth, and I’m the only man who can do it.”
Heat washed through her, ramping up as he slipped just the tip of one finger between her plump lips. He gathered more moisture and ghosted it over her clit.
The muscles in her cunt clenched at his touch, the usual automatic reaction, and she had to force herself to sit quietly. It frustrated her, as always, that he could drive so well one-handed, attentive to traffic while still relaxed and tormenting the bundle of nerves nestled at the top of her slit. The tiny smile that crooked one corner of his mouth was a good indication that he knew exactly what he was doing. By the time they reached the party, she’d be in such a high state of arousal, she’d have to concentrate just to get her brain to work.
Fallon could hardly pay attention when they exited the Interstate, but as they wound their way through a neighborhood of large, established homes, her stomach knotted. He lived in a house like these—massive, ostentatious, overwhelming. A place you could easily get lost in. When he’d first moved her in, she’d had the run of the house, but slowly he shrank her world until it consisted only of the large master suite. Nausea rolled through her and she gripped her hands together, trying to wipe the memories from her mind. Memories in which intense pleasure, intense pain and intense humiliation were all blended into one devil’s cocktail.
Cord! Think of Cord! Just Cord!
She was so intent on controlling herself she didn’t even realize when they finally came to a stop. The door opening and the sound of a strange voice jerked her out of her erotic haze.
“Good evening, sir. Madam.”
She glanced up to see an earnest young man in the vest and shirt of a parking valet, smiling at them. Cord came around to take her hand as the kid helped her out of the car. She caught the scent of her musk lingering on Cord’s skin and had to stop herself from licking his fingers.
His strong hand steadied her. “Ready?”
She had to do this. For Cord. “Of course.”
“Good. Let’s do it.”
Fallon took a deep breath and smoothed the soft fabric of her dress. Business cocktail, with a skirt just a little flirty and a tiny row of buttons on the blouse part. Demure to the naked eye, but beneath it she wore thigh-high stockings and no panties. She loved the contrast, known only to her and to Cord. She was his, and the possession was more comfortable than she’d ever imagined it could be. So what he wanted, he got. No problem.
Okay, then.
She shook back her curls, letting them tumble gently at her shoulders, and smiled at Cord. “I’m ready.”
The house had an imposing façade, a combination of stone and adobe. Light from inside bled out into the street from behind the many windows. Large oaks guarded the house like so many sentinels, their presence a contrast to the carefully manicured landscaping.
They mounted the stairs to the wide stoop and the massive carved front doors, and Cord pressed the bell. As soon as the door opened, Fallon could hear the sounds of partying drifting out into the air. The babble of voices, the tinkle of ice in a glass, the soft notes of background music all combined into a symphony long familiar. A symphony that reminded her of another night, another time, and she was tempted just for a moment to turn and run back to the car.
Then Cord’s hand was at her back, steadying her. A man nearly as tall as Cord but much heavier, more muscular, stood in the doorway smiling, hand extended.
“Cord! Glad you made it.”
“Fallon, this is Leland Grange. President of Hill Country Bank.” He winked. “He’s the one holding my money hostage.”
“Come in, come in.” Grange stood aside to let them enter, his smile still on his face. “And Cord, we’re just giving it a temporary resting place, right? The directors of the bank and I consider it a privilege to have a hand in your project. It will be good for all of us.” He drew the woman next to him forward, a tall, thin blonde with a heavy tan. “My wife, Winnie.”
Her genuine smile was a carbon copy of her husband’s. “I’ve heard so much about you, Cord, I’ve been dying to meet you. Leland says the public part of your spread will give the Don Strange Ranch a run for its money as a destination place for events.”
“That’s what we’re counting on.” He turned slightly. “I’d like you to meet Fallon Crowe. She’s the one coordinating the whole thing.”
“And doing a great job with the advance promotion,” Winnie said. “My friends and I all have it on our calendars.”
“Thank you.” Fallon smiled. “I hope it meets everyone’s expectations. It’s very important to Cord.”
“I’m sure it will. And it’s nice to meet you. Come in and say hello to all the folks. It’s just a little friendly gathering so Cord can get some face time with a few key people.”
Fallon knew that many of the people at this party could make or break the event. And they could add more names to the guest list that would heighten the visibility.
“Appreciate it,” Cord told her.
“Our pleasure. Leland, let’s get these people a drink and introduce them to our friends.”
Fallon hitched the narrow strap of her thin purse over her shoulder and followed Leland and Winnie Grange down a step into the huge sunken living room.
Here we go, Fallon. If anyone recognizes you and asks where you’ve been, just say you were reordering your priorities.
With that uncanny ability he had to sense her every mood, Cord laced his fingers with hers, the pressure of them reassuring.
The spacious living room was filled with people in similar cocktail attire. Fallon thought they could almost be a group anywhere in the country, except here, many of the suits were Western. Most of the men wore expensive boots—some hand-tooled—and the women had a flair she’d come to discover was unique to Texas.
The house was exactly what she’d expect from someone with deep pockets. A massive stone fireplace dominated one wall, soaring to the raised ceiling. Expensive rugs were placed strategically on the polished hardwood floor, and picture windows looked out onto an enormous side yard where tiny lights twinkled. Furniture was arranged in comfortable groupings, the room so large none of it had to be moved to accommodate the crowd.
The majority of the guests stood, moving easily from one group to another. It was obvious most of them knew each other; they possessed the easy familiarity of people who ran in the same circles.
Cord moved among them, greeting the men he knew and introducing Fallon. Throughout the evening, Grange made sure they had a few words with everyone else. Fallon caught the predatory looks the women gave Cord and the curious stares afforded to her. She scanned faces subtly, looking for any that might seem familiar, but none rang a bell. She didn’t recognize anyone. Of course, San Antonio was a big city, and the people who had been her clients or attended her functions weren’t necessarily part of this circle. She relaxed just a fraction.
Most importantly, he wasn’t here.
At the bar that was set up against one wall, Cord ordered a glass of white wine for her and she sipped it as if the liquid had life-giving properties. When had she become so uncomfortable in large gatherings? She used to attend them a lot when she lived in San Antonio, but then her life had changed dramatically. And since the move she’d become so much more at ease in her new environment.
Better get used to this if you’re throwing the big party for Cord. Can’t have a hostess that’s insecure around
people. Get your act together. Now.
She had no idea what she said over the next hour or so as they continued to mingle. She smiled at everyone, gave polite answers to equally polite questions. Wondered if the men who stared at her breasts could see the outline of the nipple rings and what they thought. Though she could pretty well guess what they thought. They all reminded her so much of him, with their ultra-expensive suits and their arrogant attitudes. She tried not to let a panic attack break through.
Cord never left her side, even when engaged in conversation. Sometimes he had his arm around her, his hand casually at her hip. Other times it banded her waist, keeping her close. Or he rested his hand at the nape of her neck, those long fingers stroking lightly.
I’m here, he was telling her. It’s all good. Relax.
And his touched grounded her. Kept her steady. Secure.
It was also a clear notice to everyone that she was his. Belonged to him. In all ways. Everyone else back off. His overt possession thrilled her.
Finally Cord steered them back to Grange.
“I think we’re going to run off to dinner, Leland. Thanks for including us.”
“My pleasure.” He pumped Cord’s hand. “We’re all looking forward to the big opening event at the ranch.”
“Three weeks,” Cord reminded him. “Fallon’s doing a magnificent job pulling it all together.”
Grange smiled. “My wife and I can’t wait to attend.” He glanced at Fallon. “Do you have a card with you? I have some names I’d like to email you to add to the guest list.”
“Of course.” She pulled the thin pasteboard from her purse and handed it to him. “I’ll be happy to add anyone you recommend.”
Then, at last they were outside. Cord tipped the valet who retrieved his car and they pulled out of the driveway onto the street.
“You survived in one piece,” he teased. “I knew you could do it.”
Her sigh felt as if it came from deep inside her somewhere. “I don’t mean to be an idiot about it, but you have to remember. I’ve been out of the whole San Antonio scene for more than two years. I felt as if I were walking into a foreign country.”
He moved his right hand so his fingers rested between her thighs, the tips teasing her cunt. “You see? Brian was definitely absent. These people wouldn’t tolerate him in their circles.”
“I know.” She squirmed, the touch of his fingers playing havoc with her brainwaves. “And I really appreciate how patient you’ve been with me about, well…everything.”
“I’m just trying to help you relax. And trust that I would never put you in a bad situation.”
“I know,” she assured again. “And I promise to do better about this.”
He stared at her for a moment. “I just get the feeling that lately he keeps creeping back into your mind That he still has some sort of hold on you.”
“No.” She nearly shouted the word. “No, not at all. I just don’t want us to be caught up in a nasty scene, which I promise you it would be.”
“Then trust that I’ll never put you or us in that situation.”
“I will.” She cleared her throat. “I do.”
He was silent for a moment then pinched her clit. “I can live with that. But then no more excuses.”
“I promise.”
She could sense the tension ease from his body at her words.
“Hungry?” he asked. “Neither of us ate much at the party.” He tickled the inside of one thigh. “Although I know what I have an appetite for.”
“Me too.” In spades, she thought. Tonight she wanted him to do everything to her. Needed him to.
He inched one finger inside her wet pussy and wiggled it. “Then dinner at home it is.”
* * * * *
“Hands over your head.” Cord’s voice was firm.
They were standing in the bedroom and he’d already divested himself of his jacket and tie. Fallon had reached for the zipper on her dress when his words stopped her.
“But—”
“No argument. My orders. Right? Hands high. I’ll do the undressing.”
That tone of voice always kick-started her pheromones. His take-charge voice. His Dom voice. She raised her arms straight up and in a moment felt his fingers at her nape, finding the zipper. One finger brushed her spine as he slowly drew the tab down to her waist. As the soft fabric fell away, his finger continued its journey to the cleft of her buttocks, trailing through the warm crevice.
She shivered in anticipation of what was to come.
“You know,” he said, with that hint of drawl that turned her on, “I find I have to work to control myself with you. Force myself to go slowly. I’m the Master. I’m the one in charge.” He kissed a spot at the top of her spine. “And yet, with a single look you can destroy all that control.” He trailed his tongue in a line to the top of her ass. “That’s your power, girl.”
“It’s always my wish to please my Master.”
He laughed softly. “Do I hear a note of impudence? I think we might have to teach you some manners.”
He linked his fingers with hers and drew her arms back to her sides. Another deft movement and the clasp on her bra opened, the garment falling to the floor. Cord’s hands came around to cup her breasts, his forefingers tugging gently on the nipple rings.
“When these heal completely, I think we’ll get you rings with little weights on them. They’ll keep those nipples swollen and taut.”
Her laugh had a shaky sound to it. “That ought to impress people when we’re out in public.”
He tugged on the rings again. “Are you giving me a hard time? I think maybe that punishment we talked about is long overdue.” He stepped away from her, and when he spoke again that hard-edged Dom voice was back. “Stand at the foot of the bed.”
Still wearing the stiletto heels, Fallon obediently followed his directions, her pulse beating everywhere as she anticipated what was coming.
“You know what to do, girl. Spread your legs and bend over from the waist. Arms outstretched.”
The comforter was soft against her skin, the mattress firm beneath her body. As soon as her arms were extended to her sides, Cord clipped silk-lined handcuffs around her wrists, fastening them to one of a series of holes in the bedframe. He trailed his fingers along her arm from wrist to shoulder, a soft caressing touch, as if to say, You’re mine. I can do with you as I wish. But I will always take care of you.
She heard the sound of a drawer opening and closing then he was back, a silk scarf dangling from one hand.
“Blindfold tonight. That way every sensation will be enhanced.” His palm curved over one globe of her ass. “Here.” He moved his hand lower to her thigh. “And here.” Then he reached between her legs to the lips of her cunt. “And here.”
Yes! I want that.
Moisture flooded her pussy at the eager expectation of what was to come and her pulse rate ratcheted. Cord folded the scarf in a long strip and slid it across her eyes, knotting it at the back of her head.
“Do you want your punishment girl?”
Yes, yes, yes!
“Yes, Sir. I deserve it.”
“Very well. I think I’ll let you choose what we use tonight. Flogger or paddle?”
All the saliva in her mouth dried up. “Flogger, Sir. Please.”
She loved the sting of the leather straps against her flesh, especially on her inner thighs. And when he wielded it just so to touch the lips of her pussy, she had to restrain herself from coming until he gave her permission.
Lying there waiting for him to begin, she had a flashback of the first time he’d punished her this way. She had been out of the scene for a year, aroused at the thought of what he was about to do to her yet terrified at the same time. She hadn’t known him well at that point and wasn’t sure how far he would push her.
Since then she’d learned he’d push as far as she’d let him, sometimes a little beyond, to test their boundaries. And she’d come to crave it, to lust for the intensely se
nsual feelings that raced through her body. Embracing the pain that drove her to the brink of orgasm.
You are mine.
His words echoed in her brain, and somehow when he said them they weren’t threatening. Instead they gave her a sense of safety. Not like with—
Her thoughts were cut off in mid-sentence as the first touch of the flogger fell with a cutting stroke across one cheek of her ass. Heat surged through her on the first wave of pain and her inner walls clenched. She waited for the next one and when nothing happened, wriggled her ass in what she hoped was a tempting manner.
“Impatient, are we?” Cord laughed. “I might have to add a few more strokes.”
Then the next one fell, and three more after that in rapid succession. Fingers danced briefly over her burning skin, soothing first then pinching. Each nip sent another jab of lust-enhancing pain through her body. Each touch reminded her that her responses were his to control.
“Are you wet, girl?” Fingers probed her cunt. “Ah yes. Good and soaked. You like it, don’t you?”
She said nothing, knowing he didn’t expect an answer. And in the darkness that the blindfold created, every sensation was immeasurably enhanced.
His hand coasted lightly over her stinging skin. “What a beautiful shade of red. Maybe tonight I should double the strokes. What do you think?”
Double? Holy hell.
“W-whatever Sir wishes,” she stuttered, even as the muscles in her buttocks tightened.
“You know this ass is mine to do with as I wish. Right?”
“Yes.” She swallowed. “Sir.”
“Maybe I won’t give you a specific number. Let you wonder when it will end.”
Thwack!
This time the strips of leather hit not only her inner thigh but the now swollen lips of her pussy. The fiery pain leaped from her ass to her knees to her pussy until it consumed her entire lower body. She could smell her own musk as the liquid of her arousal gushed forth. Again and again he applied the flogger, the intensity of the burn increasing every time the leather slapped her skin. And still she wanted more.