Dominated: A Kinky Adult Fairy Tale (Bedding the Bad Girl Book 4)

by Wild, Callie

  “I said I’d like to make you come,” he repeated, holding her gaze until the tension lingering in the air between them was palpable.

  “I didn’t do those things she said I did,” she said. “I don’t expect you to believe me. No one believes me, but it’s the truth. That’s how I ended up working here.”

  “You made a choice to do this work.” Not the conversation he had assumed they would be having, but he wasn’t the type to support playing the victim. “No one put a gun to your head.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Try finding decent employment when the queen says you used to beat her and lock her in the basement.”

  “You’re saying you didn’t?”

  “No! Of course not.”

  “Why would she lie?”

  “I don’t know.” Eleanor’s arms flapped up and down at her sides. “Because she hated that her father and I were happy? Because she hated me for living after her father died? She’s a teenager and she hated me for everything and nothing at all. I thought it was fairly typical stuff. I had no idea she would take things as far as she did.”

  Frank didn’t know what to say. She looked so forlorn, so hopeless. Hers wasn’t the face of an accomplished liar; it was the face of a woman who had told the truth and had it fail her. And now she was getting by on small deceptions, like pretending she was a Domme when she was the furthest thing from it.

  Or pretending she wasn’t aching for someone to hold her.

  Frank fought to keep from going to her and giving her the arms she needed. No matter how much he wanted to be there for this stranger, he had a prior commitment to the woman she claimed had wronged her.

  Eleanor read his decision on his face and made an attempt at a smile. “It’s fine, I didn’t expect you to give me a chance. But will you please leave? And take your friends with you. I can take care of myself. I’ve been doing it for a long time.”

  She sat down on the red couch in the center of the room, deflated.

  “Eleanor—”

  “Please, just go.” She dropped her head into her hands. Her long, honey-brown hair spilled over her shoulders, all the way to the floor, looking as soft as it felt.

  Frank’s cock began to throb as he remembered the satin of her hair against his chest. He wanted to hold her again more than he wanted to take his next breath. Even more, he wanted to watch her hair swirl around her shoulders as she rode his cock, wanted to see her skin flush with pleasure and hear her moan as her pussy gripped him tight. He wanted to fist his hand in her silky mane and bring her close for a kiss, then get to work showing her how swiftly he could make her come again.

  “I believe you.” The words were out of his mouth before he made a conscious decision to speak them.

  Did he believe her? Maybe, maybe not.

  But he needed to get her to accept his help and wanted her too much to leave her alone with a madman on the way, no matter what she thought she could handle.

  “You do?” She lifted a shocked face to his, a single tear sliding down her cheek.

  “Don’t start that again.” His throat was tight, and he couldn’t seem to stop his feet from moving toward her. They had time to spare and he was going to use it to take away her pain, at least for a little while.

  He stopped in front of her, his breath quickening as she tilted her head back and looked him in the eye, revealing the graceful column of her throat and the decadent expanse of her cleavage. Slowly, he knelt in front of her until their bodies were only inches apart and cupped her face in his hands. Her lips parted and a sound halfway between a sigh and a moan escaped her mouth as he wiped away the black streaks left by her tears.

  “You really believe me?” she asked. “No one’s ever believed me.”

  “I have a ten-year-old. He’s a good kid, but we’ve had our rough spots. People who think children are all sweetness and light usually don’t have any,” he said with a smile, feeling a strange tug in the vicinity of his heart when she smiled back.

  God, she was stunning when she smiled.

  It made him wish that the words he’d said were sincere. It was true that kids could lie and cheat and steal as well as many adults, but he couldn’t honestly say that he believed Eleanor was telling the truth. He’d known the queen for two years, and while she was impulsive and flighty he had never witnessed any deception on her part. He’d met Eleanor less than twenty minutes ago and the first words out of her mouth had been a lie.

  Maybe not a lie, but a promise to dominate him that she had failed to keep.

  But how could he complain when he hadn’t wanted her to keep that promise in the first place?

  “You don’t look old enough to have a ten-year-old,” she said. “Are you married?”

  “I’m thirty-five. My wife passed away when Christian was four.”

  “I’m sorry.” The empathy in her eyes was real and touched him more than he wanted to admit. It had been a long time since a woman had looked at him with such compassion.

  “It was a long time ago.” He moved his hands to the tops of her thighs, letting his fingers play back and forth between her knees and the bottom of her shorts, watching her chest rise and fall as she began to breathe faster.

  “But it still hurts, doesn’t it?” she asked. “I’m sure you know I lost my husband, too. We didn’t have children, but Cindy lived with us so I got to be a full-time stepmother.”

  “You don’t look old enough to have a teenaged stepdaughter.” He slid his hands beneath her knees, gently pulling her legs farther apart.

  She trembled and her dark eyes grew even darker. “I’m twenty-eight. My husband was twenty years older. That’s part of the reason I didn’t want Cindy dating the prince.” Her breath was coming so fast now that the creamy swells of her breasts threatened to spill out of her top. Frank massaged the sensitive skin behind her knees, hoping her tits would follow through on their threat.

  “I knew how hard it was to be with an older man,” Eleanor said, words coming faster. “My experience was that the person you loved died, leaving you alone with a stepchild who wants to murder you in your sleep.”

  “Murder you?”

  “Maybe not murder, but sometimes this life feels like a kind of death,” she said, her eyes shiny, though her fingers were smoothing up the sides of his arms. “Everyone I meet thinks I’m a child-abusing monster. It can be hard to stomach after a while.”

  Her touch made his muscles bunch as she wrapped her hands around his neck and scooted closer to the edge of the couch. Only a breath or two separated them now, and it was quickly becoming impossible to resist closing the distance between them. He was dying to know if she tasted as sweet as she looked, and what those elegant fingers would feel like digging into his shoulders while he attended to her pebbled nipples.

  “I’m sorry.” And he was sorry—sorry that he couldn’t do more for her, and that these few moments might be all they would ever have.

  Even if her words were true, he was in no position to clear her name. He was in service to the queen. He fed and clothed his son with that work, and couldn’t afford to jeopardize his position, even for a woman who made him ache in a way he hadn’t in a long time.

  “You don’t have to be sorry,” she said. “Unless you’re not going to do what I think you’re going to do.”

  “Kiss you?” His hands tightened on her knees, tugging her closer, until he could feel the heat between her spread legs inches away from his throbbing length.

  “I was hoping for more than a kiss,” she said, breath hitching.

  “How about I fuck your pussy with my tongue until you come on my mouth?”

  That seemed to take away the last of her uncertainty. She met his lips with a moan, and Frank let his arms tighten, smashing every inch of her softness against him. As he pushed past her lips and met the eager sweep of her tongue, he forced himself to remember that this was a shared moment of pleasure, nothing more.

  She was the wrong woman, no matter how right she felt in his arms.


  CHAPTER SIX

  Eleanor

  Eleanor pressed closer to the man who had managed to make her forget she had any reservations about fucking a client.

  But then he wasn’t a client, was he? He was here to help her, to deal with whoever had been writing those horrible letters.

  Right, the psycho. What had Frank said about that again?

  She pulled her mouth from his. “Frank, what about—”

  “I don’t want to hear you say another word until you’re coming on my mouth.” He followed the words with a sharp tug at the bottom of her corset. Her breasts sprang free, nipples sliding against the leather with a rough friction that made her moan.

  His eyes drank her in with an intensity that took her breath away as his large hands moved to cup her swollen breasts. He tested the weight and feel of her softly, almost reverently, before he swept the pads of his thumbs over her tightened tips. A bolt of arousal zinged from her nipples down to burn hotly between her legs.

  She couldn’t wait for him to touch her. Everywhere.

  Her breath hissed in through parted lips as he pinched her nipples, hard, between his fingers and thumbs. He tightened his grip on her aroused flesh until she moaned and arched into his hands, her body wickedly craving more. She raked her fingernails down his exposed back, digging her hands into his muscled ass and pulling him closer. Hungrily, she ground up and down his rock-hard length, her clit humming with excitement as it was granted the much-needed friction.

  “Is that a gun in your diaper or are you happy to see me?” she breathed, unable to believe even Frank was truly that large. His cock felt at least ten inches long, and bigger around than her own wrist.

  “You don’t listen well, do you?” He followed the words with a swift smack on her bare thigh. The unexpected sting made her gasp and wiggle her hips into closer contact with his cock. She’d never had any fantasies about being spanked, but she was having plenty of them now. She wanted her bare bottom turned over his knees, her slick pussy exposed to him as he used the flat of his large palm to redden her ass.

  “Kind of like someone else I know,” she said, flicking her tongue across the seam of his lips, dying for another taste of him.

  “But I think we both know by now that I enjoy taking the lead.” His strong hands cupped her ass, helping her find a gentle, rocking rhythm against his cock that had things low in her body tightening, already climbing toward release. “Can you let me do that, Eleanor? Can you trust me to give you pleasure?”

  “Yes.” She mumbled against his neck, inhaling the purely male scent of him. Even his smell made her hotter, wetter, and she knew it wouldn’t take much to send her spiraling over the edge.

  “So for the next ten minutes this pussy is mine?”

  “I wish we had more than ten minutes.”

  “Me too,” he said, holding her gaze. “I want to hear you say it, Eleanor. Tell me this is my pussy.”

  “It’s your pussy,” she whispered, the words almost enough to bring her the rest of the way. They would have been if he hadn’t picked that second to pull away and urge her back onto the couch.

  “Good. I want to see my pussy. Take your shorts off, but leave the corset.”

  Eleanor forced herself to obey, despite the hint of nervousness that swept through her as she was denied access to the drugging contact of his body. She trusted him, she did, despite the fact she had been half convinced he was a psycho killer a few minutes ago.

  Whether it was crazy or not, trusting him wasn’t the problem.

  She was the problem. Would she know how to please him? Would she be able to give up control? The last thing she’d expected to do tonight was to take a turn on the submissive side of the scene. Her fingers fumbled nervously with the leather ties at the side of her shorts, and her hands began to shake.

  “Hurry, I’m ready to see what’s mine.” The way he said the words made her nipples harden to the point of pain and her engorged clit practically scream for release.

  She shimmied her leather hot pants and black thong panties down her legs and flicked them off one six-inch heel, refusing to think too much about what she was doing. There was no point asking questions, or wondering if she was ready for a man like Frank. There was no longer any choice to be made.

  Her body had made the decision for her. It would do anything this man asked as long as he fulfilled the promise shining in his blue eyes.

  Absolutely anything.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said as she sat back on her elbows and spread her legs wide, obediently showing him every inch of her. Her pussy plumped as his eyes explored her, taking in her most intimate of places.

  “Frank, please…”

  “You were supposed to be quiet, Eleanor,” he said with a small smile as he spread her legs wider and parted the petals of her sex, exposing her completely. It became hard to breathe, hard to move, hard not to move. She just wanted him to touch her so desperately.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered as he lowered his face between her legs, bringing his mouth close enough that she could feel his hot breath on her mound, but no closer.

  “It’s okay,” he said, lifting his eyes to meet hers without moving his mouth. “You can make it up to me.”

  “Anything.”

  “I want you to watch. Never take your eyes off of me while I eat my pussy.” He followed the words with one long, smooth swipe of his tongue up her sex, from her weeping slit to the throbbing bundle of nerves at the top. Eleanor made an almost animalistic sound of arousal, but quickly bit down on her lip, determined to show him that she wanted to please.

  “Good girl,” he said, satisfied with whatever he saw in her eyes. Or she supposed he was satisfied, because he rewarded her with another slow swipe of his tongue.

  Eleanor trembled and fought to maintain the terrible intimacy of eye contact as he started to circle her clit with a slow, sensuous rhythm. Just enough to ratchet up the tension within her to the next level, but not enough to take her over the edge.

  “Touch your nipples, pinch them for me,” Frank rumbled against her sex, his strong hands digging into her thighs as he spread her wider and intensified his efforts between her legs. He lapped and suckled and plunged his tongue into her welcoming body, while Eleanor obediently brought her hands to her own breasts. She tugged at the already sensitive flesh, pinching her nipples until they ached, and the need between her thighs built to the breaking point.

  “Come for me, Eleanor. I want to taste my pussy when it comes.” Frank opened his mouth and covered her entire sex in his heat, his tongue jabbing into her entry even as he suckled her clit with sharp, commanding tugs.

  Eleanor shattered with a ferocity that destroyed what was left of her thinking mind. She bucked into his mouth, twisted her fists into the fabric of the couch, holding on for dear life as her orgasm rocketed through her body.

  But she could tell he wasn’t done with her yet, not by a long shot.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Eleanor

  Frank continued to lap at her core, soft, smooth sweeps of his tongue that rebuilt the erotic tension in her body even before she’d come down from her first release.

  “You closed your eyes,” Frank muttered against her as he brought one large finger to glide in and out of where her pussy still pulsed hungrily.

  Eleanor’s eyes flew open to stare at the ceiling.

  Shit, she had closed her eyes, she hadn’t even realized. But surely he would forgive her. It had been so overwhelming, so intense, so—

  “What are you doing?” Eleanor looked down to where Frank was still slowly finger-fucking her with one hand, while his other had begun to explore—

  “I’m touching my pussy. And my ass. Is this my ass, Eleanor?” He teased the tight, puckered hole with one slick finger, drawing a gasp from her lips.

  No one had ever touched her there. But then she’d never let a complete stranger order her to undress and spread for his mouth either. She’d also never come like that, and nev
er felt so close to coming again just from the slightest manipulation of a man’s hands.

  “Yes, it is,” she whispered, a shiver running through her at the look in his eyes. She had never dreamed a man, even her husband, would look at her like that—like some priceless, beautiful creature he felt honored to have in his care.

  Care—that was the word. She felt cared for, treasured, protected. She felt safe for the first time in over a year, which was ridiculous considering the man who had been terrorizing her might be on his way here and this man was a complete stranger. But Frank didn’t feel like a stranger. Eleanor felt close to him, accepted and understood, a sensation that was nearly as drugging as lust.

  And possibly as addictive.

  “Thank you.” Frank pressed a kiss to her thigh as his finger began to tease at her rear entry, working in and out, in and out, until Eleanor was aching for more, actually wishing that he would penetrate her more deeply.

  She moaned and lifted into his next thrust, giving him a clear invitation to take more, push harder, deeper. But he only smiled and kept up the teasing rhythm. He did, however, add a second finger to her pussy.

  Immediately, her walls began to contract in response.

  “Don’t close your eyes, baby. Let me watch you this time,” he said as her eyes fluttered and threatened to close.

  Eleanor sucked in a deep breath and willed herself to meet Frank’s intense blue gaze as he slowly fucked her ass and her pussy with his thick fingers. The forced intimacy pushed away the crest of her orgasm, but made every inch of tissue between her legs throb even more fiercely. She had never been this aroused without climaxing, and wouldn’t have previously thought it possible.

  It was like discovering there was another two hundred feet of mountain still to climb when you were sure you were already at the top.

  “Just relax, let everything go.” He slowly, gently, pushed another finger into her ass. She fought against the urge to clench her thighs, struggling to ignore the slight sting as he pushed inside her body and established a deeper, firmer rhythm.