She parted her labia with her left hand and stroked her clit even harder, pretending Pierce was stimulating her. The thought of him made her close her eyes and she surrendered to the fantasy. She pressed her lips together so she didn’t moan again, and she rubbed harder, faster.
So damn good.
His power over her was complete. And she loved it.
She pushed the balls of her feet down, and the angle change made the plug move. The friction on the thousands of nerve endings in her anus pushed her over the edge. She came hard. Even though she tried not to, she moaned as she dropped her head forward onto her knees.
It took her a few seconds to recover before she pulled herself together and headed for the sink to wash her hands and finger-comb her hair into some semblance of normalcy.
When she returned to the table, Morgan was there. She’d stolen Ella’s margarita and stood to give her a big hug.
“I can’t believe I get to see the two of you together.”
Pierce stood to pull out her chair. Against her ear he said, “Sit flat on your ass, princess.”
She did, shifted, then stayed still.
He never stopped watching her.
The waiter returned with another round of drinks and a basket of chips to go with a fresh bowl of salsa.
They gave Morgan all the news on the move and job situation. Ella noticed he never mentioned their parents.
Morgan looked from one to the other. “Have you set a wedding date?”
“She’s stalling.”
“I’m not.” She scowled at him over her chip. “I want us to be settled and spend some time together before we make it permanent.”
“Settled?” Morgan sat back. “When does that ever happen? I think you should set a date and figure it out.”
“Same thing I keep telling her.” Pierce looked at her. “You’re the one who told me you wouldn’t get in a relationship unless it led to marriage.”
“You can’t use my words against me.”
Morgan grinned. “He did that.”
They were probably right. Life might not get much easier when he was working for Logan. “I’ll set one.” She crunched her chip.
Morgan licked salt from the rim of her glass. “I’ll nag you until you do.”
“That, I believe.”
They all laughed. Under the table, he touched Ella’s leg above the knee.
And within an hour, they were back at home.
He closed and locked the door while she placed her purse on a nearby table.
“You masturbated at the restaurant?”
“I always do what my Dom tells me.”
His pupils flared. “And did you come?”
“Right away.”
He shook his head. “I have to have you.”
“I would have been happy to stay at home with you all night, Sir.”
He tossed his keys into a metal bowl on the table, one she’d put there for him. Maybe Morgan was right. Maybe it was time Ella set a date. In many small ways, she and Pierce were already settled into a relationship. “Next summer.”
“For the wedding?”
“That will give us time to plan, reserve a venue—”
“Spoken like a person who handles events. How about we actualize our own vows in the mountains and then have a party later? No one has to know. I want you as mine, now.”
“Spring.”
“This winter.”
She exhaled. “How about you fuck me?”
“Are you trying to distract me?”
“Is it working?”
“I have incredible focus. If it works, it would be temporary.” He grinned. “Take off your dress. And crawl to the bedroom. I want to see your ass move. I want to see the plug.”
As always, he gave her plenty of opportunity to shake off her self-doubts.
Ella pulled off the dress then removed her bra before lowering herself to floor.
Pierce sucked in a sharp breath, and that made her confidence soar.
Even though she blushed, she crawled to the bedroom. He followed behind, telling her how gorgeous she was.
“On the bed. On your back.”
She exaggerated her motions, pretending to be a sex kitten.
After undressing in record time, he rolled on a condom and climbing onto the bed on top of her. “It’s going to be tight with the plug.”
“I know.” But her pussy was already wet. “Fuck me, Sir.”
Instead, he tormented her clit a dozen times with his tongue then said, “I want your knees on my shoulders. I want to be as deep inside you as possible.”
She lifted her legs and he moved toward her, pressing his shoulders against the backs of her knees. “This. Yes, Sir… Exactly like this.”
“Goddamn.”
His strength and power seemed to split her apart. But she took him, all of him, everything he wanted her to have, everything she needed.
He called out her name as he came, the sound broken into two distinct, guttural sounds.
Once he was replete, he didn’t collapse on her. Instead, he lifted his body and looked at her. “Still need a little more?”
“The plug and the angle is…I don’t know.”
He toyed with her, stroking her clit, paying close attention to her.
“Pierce!”
“You’re almost there.”
She closed her eyes and gave herself over to the sensations. She squeezed her butt cheeks, clamping down on the plug.
Then he maneuvered his body so he could tease one of her nipples with his tongue.
“Damn.” So, so close.
He bit.
She arched. He stopped biting and instead sucked hard. Then he plunged a couple of fingers into her heated pussy and flicked her clit with his thumb until she shattered from the sensual overload.
Pierce stayed there until she rode it out. She wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to move again. More, she wasn’t sure she wanted to.
For thirty seconds, maybe more, she floated, somewhere quiet and peaceful as her heart rate returned to normal.
When she opened her eyes, he was looking at her. He grinned. “Put your hands over your head.”
It took some effort since her limbs felt wooden, but once she managed it, he clamped her wrists.
“This is my favorite version of the Holden-Gibson Forever pose. You’re mine, Ella. Mine. To love. Nurture. Protect.”
“And spank my ass?”
His blue eyes seared hers. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
“I wouldn’t, either, Sir.”
“Good. Then set a date.” He paused. “For the wedding.”
“You’re relentless, Pierce. Do you ever stop?”
“You’re vulnerable. I plan to take advantage of it. Next week.”
“No. No. No. No. Next summer. June.”
He continued to stare at her. “January.”
“April.” Before facilities got booked for proms and weddings.
“Done.”
She glared at him. “Was that the date you wanted?”
He grinned.
“Did you just win? You won. That’s not winning, that’s cheating.”
“And?”
Instead of waiting for an answer, he swooped in for a kiss so deep and thrilling and emotional that words weren’t needed.
When he finally ended it, with her mouth swollen from the way he devoured her, he said, “Tell me you’re not upset.”
“Pierce, in all the ways that it counts, I’m already your wife. I love you.”
He grinned and gave a slow, sexy, searing look that reflected his devotion.
Her insides melted. No matter what the future held, she had the confidence they would deal with it together.
“In that case, Mrs. Holden, let’s get started on the honeymoon.”
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Impulse: Shockwave
Sierra Cartwright
Excerpt
Chapter One
Alani Dane, professional submissive, rolled her eyes. What she deserved was a night off from play-acting with yet another weak-wristed wannabe Dom. What she wanted was a hot, sexy scene with a man she was into…a few hours of bliss. Hell, she’d even settle for a couple of minutes of happiness. Were her needs so outrageous that she couldn’t get a good ass beating that made her wince when she sat down?
“Sub,” the man prompted when she didn’t respond right away. His voice was laced with a fake British accent. “I asked you a question.”
She’d seen him on television, providing legal analysis for a high-profile murder case. Alani was willing to bet her last dollar he wasn’t from England. In the outside world, he was a smart man, a snappy dresser, but at Limits, the downtown Denver club where she worked, he affected airs. He even wore a cravat, and his jacket had tails. One night he’d checked a top hat and silver-capped cane at the coat room.
She was grateful he’d tied her to the St. Andrew’s cross facing away from him. Even though it was still early on a Friday evening and they were in one of the club’s first-floor public areas, there were a few couples scening. A female sub was being fastened to a spanking bench and a male sub was suspended from a ceiling hook. The man wore a wicked-looking contraption around his cock, complete with metal spikes. He smiled in a way that lit up his entire face. Despite the torturous apparatus, his muscles were relaxed. He was obviously enjoying every moment.
Alani wondered how long it had been since she’d been lost in that kind of happiness. Weeks? Months? Then another thought plowed into her. Had she ever blissed out that hard, despite her constant quest?
The techno music thrummed out an urgent beat, but the volume was relatively low.
Sometimes during scenes, she went deep inside her head, creating a fantasy within a fantasy. She often pretended she’d been naughty and needed to be punished. For the past few weeks, going away mentally had been the only way she’d been able to get into what she was doing.
Tonight, though, even that wasn’t working. Because she’d played with Master Richard several times before, she knew what to expect. The next half hour, maybe less, was going to be boring.
“Tell me what you deserve,” he repeated.
“Oh, Sir, I’ve been bad,” she said, forcing a tremor into her voice.
He touched the small of her back. She let out a small cry and pulled against the restraints. “So bad.” She’d learned to manipulate her Dominants into giving her at least a little of what she wanted.
Knowing Master Richard was an ass man, she wriggled her hips. “Please, Sir, I want to be good for you. Perhaps you’d better teach me to behave.”
“That’s more than you deserve, sub.”
“I know, Sir. But I’m hoping you’ll take pity on me.”
“What will it be this evening, you naughty, naughty girl?”
She knew the answer he sought. And she knew what she craved. She wanted to be punished hard by a powerful man. She wanted to be with a man who would demand her very best. Her fantasy Dom would tug a belt from around his waist and use it harshly on her bare butt. Or maybe he’d catch her with the brutal strike of an open-handed slap.
“Well? Answer me!” He pinched a bit of skin near her waist.
That was unexpected and delicious. If he would keep that up… “Whatever you want, Sir,” she said, her answer so well-rehearsed she could recite it in her sleep.
“The flogger it is,” he said.
In the right hands, she supposed the flogger could be memorable. When swung by this unskilled Dom, it was the equivalent of a lover’s touch.
“I’m going to pull up your skirt.”
“Oh, Sir! No. Please. Anything but that!”
“Hush, sub.”
She imagined his words were supposed to be forceful, but they came out as a request.
With his small hands, he drew her skirt up.
“Oh, Sir!”
He tucked the material into her waistband, then trailed his soft fingertips between her buttocks.
As was her custom, she’d worn panties on top of her garter belt, and he hadn’t requested she change into anything more revealing. And it wasn’t as if he’d delve inside the silk to play with her clit. He wouldn’t do anything to ensure she got into the scene like he did.
As Master Richard caressed her buttocks through her underwear, his fingers trembling and his breathing ragged, she stared ahead at a large mural hanging from the exposed brick wall. She fell into the picture of the Maroon Bells, mountain peaks near Aspen. It was one of the most photographed sites in North America. Maybe this summer, she’d try climbing them. At least that would be challenging, and it would give her something to train for.
She tried to lose herself in the picture, grateful Limits had no clocks in the public areas. Each second with Master Richard was interminable. Staring at a minute hand would only make time drag more.
Something tapped her rear, and it occurred to her it was the flogger. She jerked her hips, hoping he didn’t realize the reaction came several moments after the almost-nonexistent impact.
“Beg for another.”
“Oh, please, Sir! I need you to punish me.”
His second stroke had a little more oomph behind it. She reacted quicker that time and squirmed against her bonds.
“You may thank me, my girl.”
“Sir! Thank you, thank you! Please, will you punish me some more?” She stuck out her ass.
He continued to flog her, and she remembered she needed French vanilla creamer for her coffee at home.
Kukae. Shit. She was being paid to give this man a fantasy. And if he was pleased, he always left a large tip. Embarrassingly large. Alani blinked a few times to focus her attention.
Several times, early in her career, she’d managed to lose herself in a scene. But now, it took all the skills she’d learned at a college acting class to stay in character. It wasn’t the Doms who were lacking. It was her. They hadn’t changed. She had gotten bored.
“How many was that, sub?”
How many? She’d barely registered any. “It hurts so bad I lost count, Sir. Please,” she wailed. “Take pity on me. I promise to be good.”
“Four more,” he said.
He landed another. She jerked with enough dramatics to win an award.
As he paused, probably drooling over the sight of her rounded derrière, she yawned.
She snapped her mouth shut when she saw Master Nathaniel push away from a wall. He was one of the club’s three owners, and he spent a lot of time out of the country. She didn’t know much about him, but the rumor mill said he was some sort of secret black ops agent who trained resistance forces throughout the world. She knew the work he did was dirty and dangerous, and the small scar bisecting his chin proved it.
Damn. Why hadn’t she noticed him standing there?
His chilly gaze was on her as he walked toward the cross where she hung.
Had he seen her disrespectful yawn?
Reacting from instinct, Alani clenched her muscles.
She’d rarely seen him engage with the club’s subs or patrons. He showed up for occasional meetings. Once, while Master Braxton had been out of town, Master Nathaniel had signed paychecks.
Alani told herself not to be nervous. But she wasn’t believing her own pep talk.
Master Nathaniel was dressed as if he’d walked off the pages of a men’s fashion magazine. His long-sleeved shirt was turned up at the cuffs and the top button was unfastened at his throat. He wore loose-fitting slacks and polished wing tips. She imagined his attire was intended to make him appear civilized. It didn’t work. Raw masculine power pulsed from him. No polite trappings would temper his air of danger.
He smelled of a cold winter night, and his green eyes were just as chilly.
If she were honest, she’d admit he terrified her.
“How’s it going here, Master Richard?”
“Very well. Very well indeed, Master Nathaniel.”
She didn’t dare crack a smile at the fake British voice.
“I’m just going to give this saucy wench a bit of a workout,” he continued. “Only three more strokes to go.”
“Mind if I watch?”
“Delighted to have you,” Master Richard said.
Master Nathaniel leaned in close to her, his expression tight, sending a shiver through her. “Let’s help keep you in the scene, shall we?” His words were quiet, pitched so that they wouldn’t be overheard.
No doubt. He had caught her yawning. Crap.
“Alani, is it?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He captured her chin between his thumb and forefinger, leaving her powerless to escape.
“Look at me,” he snapped.
There was a whiplash in his voice, if not volume. All her senses sharpened.
“Keep your eyes open. For this moment, I am your entire world. Don’t forget it.”
How could she?
He tightened his grip.
Her heart thundered, this time with real fear.
“Do you understand, Alani?”
“Yes.” She gulped. “Yes, Sir.”
He nodded then looked over her shoulder at Master Richard. “Proceed.”
As if goaded by Master Nathaniel’s presence, the man hit her hard.
She gasped from the unexpected sting.
“Better.” Master Nathaniel grinned, and her belly tightened. When he spoke, he increased the volume so it was obvious he was addressing the pretend Dom. “She is a saucy one, Master Richard. You were correct.” Master Nathaniel compelled her gaze. He refused her any quarter, keeping her gaze focused on him. “Make the last ones count.”
“Unclench your buttocks, wench,” Master Richard said. “I do so enjoy seeing your arse jiggle when I give you a good one.”
She gulped. Somehow, this was more compelling, even a touch humiliating. She wasn’t sure why. Being somewhat of an exhibitionist, she liked people watching her, enjoyed presenting a memorable show. But Master Nathaniel, with his brutally penetrating gaze, was different.
“Alani! I said unclench your bum.” Master Richard poked her with the hilt of the flogger. “Do it now, you cheeky girl!”
Enticement (Master Class Book 2) Page 17