She hissed as he hoisted her up and leaned into her.
“Now, I want you to repeat it until you scream it.” Sandwiching her between him and the closet door, he guided his dick into her sex.
Her breath hitched, as the crown breached the opening of her pussy.
He paused there, closing his eyes, and attempted to get his bearings. Just with the tip inside of her, he felt as if the earth shifted beneath his feet.
Inhaling deeply, he basked in her scent—cashmere, orchids and the heady, sweet musk of her sex. He loved it all.
Leaning forward, he kissed along the side of her neck, allowing her time to prepare herself for what was to come, because once he started taking her, there would be no stopping until they both found their end.
He needed her to know it was the man not the Dom that claimed her body now. Never before since becoming a skilled Dom had he insisted that, did he want that. However, with Kindle he needed her to see him not only as a dominant that could aid her in finding peace for her mind, but also as the man who could provide the pleasure for her soul. Even as the thought scared him, he bucked forward and buried himself in her pussy. And the world dropped from under him.
Crying out his name, Kindle wrapped her legs around his hips, opening herself wider to him. The soft leather of her boots pressed into his ass as he thrust in and out of her.
Her short nails dug into his back as she licked and nipped at his shoulder, in between her chanting of his name.
He enjoyed hearing the hitches and moans in her voice as he rocked into her.
The door hinges squeaked as it bore their weight, accompanied by the slapping of wet flesh every time their sex met overlaid with his groans and Kindle’s iteration.
All too soon, his balls were drawing up tight against the base of his cock. But he fought against the need pummeling him inside, refusing to be overtaken until Kindle had crested her own zenith.
Bending slightly, he leaned back enough that he could slant his strokes toward the front wall of her sex, aiming for just the right spot.
It was evident the moment he struck gold when she tipped her head back against the door and moaned, loud. He continued to thrust fast and hard, instituting a fierce assault on the area, determined to push her over the cliff of pleasure with him.
Everything but Kindle ceased to exist around him, when the walls of her sex fisted his shaft seconds before her hips began to shudder and buck against his.
Finally, she screamed his name. “Masaun! Shitdon’tstop…don’t stop.”
“No fucking way,” he gritted out through clenched teeth. Wrapping an arm around her, he held her tight as he pressed the other hand against the door, angling their hips away as he pounded into her, deeper.
He heard her breath catch as he hit bottom, forced her to take all of his length, not holding anything back. She met him thrust for thrust as she rotated her hips against him. The pleasure of their rhythm was just right and too intense at the same time, shoving him beyond the precipice of paradise’s gates.
With eyes squeezed shut, he buried his face in the curve of her neck and came. The power of it caused his knees to weaken, but he held his ground keeping them both up.
He wanted to carry her up to his room and lay her down in his bed for hours, pleasing her the right way. But, he had delayed her long enough. Ravished her mercilessly like a sex crazed animal. She’d consented to their sex. However, he was sure she didn’t intend to be mauled and fucked hard at the entrance of his home. He wanted to feel shame at his hasty, lustful actions, but he couldn’t drum up the emotion. Not while she stood before him now smelling of him and her, her coat still wide and draped over one shoulder, still displaying her luscious body.
Tomorrow would begin the court case that all of the state would be watching. He wanted her to be rested and ready.
Taking her waist, he helped her regain her footing on the floor then stepped back. Keeping his gaze averted, he fixed his pants. Taking a breath before looking at her, he seized the opportunity to put a leash on his desire to have her lying beside him all night, which was greater than his need for sex. That urge was more dangerous to him. All of this was temporary with Kindle/Song Sparrow and he had to keep that in perspective.
Glancing at her, he saw she took the time to straighten up her own clothing. Now she stood staring at the back of the front door as if she was trying to keep her mind on the best route of escape.
He reached for her hand. “Kindle—”
She slipped them both into her pocket before he could touch her. “I have a big day tomorrow. I should probably go.”
Straightening his spine, he rose to his full height and let his hand lower back to his side. “You’re probably right.” The line between them was drawn again.
The woman before him may have let down her guard for a brief moment of passion, but she was still the independent, confident attorney that refused to allow herself to need anyone.
“I guess I’ll see you Wednesday, right?”
“I’ll see you home.” Bending down, he swiped her scarf that had fallen to the floor during their torrid incident.
Taking the item from him, she shoved it in her pocket. It was cool outside, not cold, so she truly didn’t need it. Her not putting it on, also proved to him that she clearly understood they were not in roles any longer.
He shouldn’t be angry. Fuck, he was the one who had made her use his given name, forced her to scream it as she orgasmed around his cock. However, her action still made him want to growl and beat his chest yelling ‘Me Tarzan. You Jane.’ No matter how barbaric and Neanderthal the thought was. He wanted his claim on her.
“It isn’t necessary, but I’m doing it.” Grabbing the handle, he yanked it wide, practically ripping his front door from its hinges. “Let’s go,” he commanded, letting her know clearly by his tone that he wasn’t accepting any arguments.
Her nostrils flared and she eyed him with one of her bold gazes, but she still turned and marched out of the door before him. Anger echoed in the harsh strike of her booted heels on the concrete.
Opening the closet he grabbed a windbreaker and put it on to cover his bare chest. He snatched his keys from the hook beside his door. Following her path, he pressed the button on his fob that would activate his garage door as he moved to his vehicle inside.
She unlocked her car then got in. Moments later she was backing down his driveway. Kindle didn’t stop to wait for him, but neither did she speed off.
Soon he was driving closely behind her down the calm streets from Virginia Beach to Norfolk. One thought continued to rattle his mind; Wednesday was coming and by then he needed to have his shit together.
He needed to designate a spot for Kindle in his life and leave her there. No more playing both sides of his psyche. A divided man was a vulnerable man. He wasn’t willing to risk it.
~YH~
Kindle awoke in the pre-dawn hours. She felt refreshed and energized. She couldn’t recall one dream, or nightmarish-type visions like she normally was plagued with during then night. It was as if her mind had agreed with her body that she just wanted and needed to shut down.
Last night she had arrived home both physically and mentally exhausted. She’d planned earlier in the day to go over her case a few times before turning in, but when she got home, she put away all the winter gear she’d been wearing, showered and got into bed. Telling herself over and over again, think about it all tomorrow.
It was not only the trial but the dominating man taking up temporary residence in her life. True to his words, Masaun had followed her all the way home. He waited until she parked and entered her condo before he drove away. She didn’t allow herself to rejoice in the warmth spreading from her core at having someone care about her safety.
She didn’t need that from anyone. Since going away to college, and all the late night hours she’d stayed in the library studying in groups and alone, she’d looked out for herself. Thankfully, she’d never encountered a situation where
she had to defend herself, but she would have been prepared for that.
Every six months her father had ensured she was enrolled in the local law enforcement’s self-defense course. Even now, she took it annually. As a prosecuting attorney, she pissed off a lot of people; some of those people were family of defendants she put in jail, others were defendants that had made parole for mid-level crimes. She wasn’t a fool and she didn’t take chances.
Until Masaun.
His name in her mind was a signal that it was time for her to get up out of bed and get ready for her day. She and her team had a meeting set before they were due to arrive at the courthouse.
Tossing the covers off her body, she rose to sit up on the side of the bed. The twinges and tenderness in her ass were there to greet her. She winced then rose, keeping herself from giving in to the urge to rub her backside. In the bathroom, she stood before her mirror with its Hollywood lighting, the shine illuminating everything.
Last night she just didn’t want to face any of her thoughts about the events that transpired being around Masaun, Dom Hawk, but after a good night’s sleep, she figured it would be easier. It wasn’t, was her first thought as she raised the hem of her powder blue, cotton night gown. The sensible, conservative look of her sleepwear seemed out of place as she stared at the deep burgundy marks on her cheeks. Her normal chestnut complexion, bruised and aching, was a contrast to the puritanical garment.
The current tint of her ass made her appear undisciplined and reckless. Women who got spanked by men at night weren’t conventional ladies that went through life on their education and intelligence, but those that were led by their passions. That wasn’t her.
It couldn’t be me.
Even as those words played like a broken vinyl record in her mind, the images of last night’s events looped around like a silent picture show. A flash of her standing nude before Dom Hawk in his living room. A vision of her bent over Dom Hawk’s bench, clutching the bar and taking the spanking. Then finally it panned in slowly, the portrait of her in the foyer, with her legs around Masaun as he thrust his long thick cock inside of her.
Her sex pulsed and clenched at the memory. It had been hasty, hard but stupefying just the same. In all of her sexual experiences, she’d never had a man ravish her in the way Masaun had. A man to kiss her passionately, robbing her of her wits and then bury himself so deep inside of her. He had not taken her hand and led her to his bed then peeled off her clothes to love her slow and tender.
That wasn’t this man’s nature. Oh, no. Masaun was no-holds-barred in everything he did. And domineering as shit.
Dropping the gown, she allowed it to fall back in place over her butt and legs. She was upset at herself for even giving in to his demands. Hell, giving in to her own arousal. She should have taken her one orgasm in his playroom and left. He’d clearly offered her the opportunity to say ‘no’ and to go home with nothing more than two sore ass cheeks. There was no one to blame but herself. She’d desired him and wanted exactly what he’d given her against the closet door—uncomplicated, unrestrained, indulgent lust.
However, she’d wanted him. Not the physical want, but the emotional want. The need that still ached in her core even now—to have him take her to bed and please her more…hold her. That was the part that scared her.
Even Simeon, her ex-boyfriend, had never held her after sex and she didn’t want it from him. Usually, they got up, showered and then found themselves at her kitchen table with coffee and piles of their own work, if he stayed. Normally, she kissed him at the door and sent him away so she could set amidst her files in peace. Simeon on his best day had never worn her out to the point she wanted to sleep. Surely not curl up in his arms and rest.
So, why had she desired a man she barely knew? A man that she had made a verbal contract with to let him play with her—help her regain her inner strength and focus. With no answer to her question, she went to the glass enclosed stall and turned on the shower.
Today, she had enough on her plate without loading her mind down with ambiguous thoughts.
Stepping in and under the spray of warm water, she forced herself to put Masaun Hawkes and all his personas out of her mind.
~YH~
“I know the sales reports are boring for me to sit through, but when you start zoning out, I’m worried.”
Sweet’s voice echoed in the fog of Masaun’s mind like that of a lost man in a canyon. Drawn from the papers on his desk he’d been staring at for God only knew how long, Masaun scowled at his brother. “Excuse me?”
“That’s right. Excuse you.” Sweet shook his head and gave him a perplexed look. “What’s with you today? I swear that is the second time this afternoon you got lost somewhere.”
Masaun shoved a hand through his hair. He knew his brother was correct; he’d found himself in the last few days drifting off several times. For a man who prided himself on being focused and in control of his world, it didn’t sit well with him.
“Oh, shit! Is your ass frazzled?” Sweet’s eyes roamed his face assessing, as if attempting to find the piece to a missing puzzle.
“Kiss my ass. And stop Domming me. If you get a slave or even work with a sub every now and then, you will not feel the need to exercise your skills on me,” Masaun growled and pushed up from his seat and walked off to the side, staring at nothing and everything at the same time. He felt like having a cup of coffee. Something dark roast and strong to center himself. The cup he’d consumed that morning at home was long gone now.
“And you’re defensive—”
Shifting around, Masaun pierced his younger brother with a look, telling him to shut the hell up and let it drop. Today he just didn’t have the patience for Sweet’s sarcastic, humorless wit. If his brother was going to rake him over the coals, the least he could do was do it with a damn smile. Man, what would it take for his brother to come alive again.
Sweet raised his hands as if to ward off a coming attack, but remained silent.
That made Masaun feel like shit. He knew it was unfair to take out his self-frustration on his brother, but he needed an outlet and short of going to The Dollhouse in the middle of the day to work it out on the ass of a willing submissive, there was nothing else. The thought of a scene with another sub, in lieu of the temporary one currently under his dominance, caused a hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach. Training was his passion, something he’d always enjoyed. Now that Kindle was in his life, some of that joy was slipping away. No, clearly it was being refocused—to her.
Exhaling, he reclaimed his seat. “Let’s get back to the reports and then we can discuss what we received this month in feedback and comments from customers. I came down early for this and I don’t like wasting your time.”
“Wouldn’t you prefer to talk about whatever is bothering you?” Sweet folded his hands in his lap.
“No.”
“Come on, Masaun, you know I’m a decent sounding board. Well for someone else’s shit.”
Maybe if his brother was the Sweet of old, who smiled and was more relaxed and less pessimistic about life and even his place in the lifestyle, Masaun would have been more inclined. Besides, Kindle wasn’t a permanent situation. He could handle whatever emotional baggage was raised surrounding her. After their scene and sex last night, he’d been unable to sleep much once he returned home. He’d tried going for a five-mile run to exhaust himself and clear his mind, but that hadn’t worked. After showering and lying in bed for well over an hour staring at the ceiling and battling the images and thoughts surrounding the night, he’d gotten up and watched a movie. He’d practically made it halfway through a second one before he’d fallen asleep on the couch.
Sleeping on the couch was probably a big part of his ire toward his brother. Using Sweet as an outlet was wrong, but he’d add that to the list of things he needed to analyze later.
Masaun leaned forward on his desk, laced his fingers together creating a bridge over the papers, and said, “You want to talk, Sweet? Let�
��s talk about what’s going on with you? About you finding a sub or working with one? How about if we discuss your refusal to let anyone else in—”
“Shit, Masaun!” Sweet sat up straighter in his seat, where he’d been slouching before, then shot a hard look at him. “Okay, I get it. You don’t want to talk. So, as I read these,” he shifted through the printouts in his hands, “I can see our sales numbers have made a substantial and consistent jump in the last six months.”
He didn’t like to antagonize Sweet—much—or use his brother’s emotional issues as an escape from his own problems, but Masaun needed time to process the shit in his mind before he started spilling his feelings like a damn school girl. “True and if you look on page two you will find the breakdown of sales per item during the same timeframe. I’m hoping this will assist you in your creative process to gear things toward those higher sellers and maybe phase out some of those that are lower.”
Sweet nodded as he listened, his features still tight.
Over the next hour, Masaun and his brother talked straight shop business and left both of their personal affairs and concerns outside the room.
CHAPTER eight
No panties?
Shocked Kindle read the text message again.
NO PANTIES, TODAY.
Three more reads with pure astonishment that had frozen her legs then she collapsed into one of her kitchen chairs and set the phone down on the table. Already dressed in a navy pantsuit with sky blue pinstripes and sensible shoes, prepared for her second day in court, she’d been making breakfast before heading out the door.
The three words of the message clued her in more to who it was from than the name from her contact list at the top of it. Bold, direct, commanding. The words didn’t allow room for anything but compliance. It was Masaun.
Have I signed on for this?
Today was Tuesday and she’d awakened for the first time without the smarting of her ass cheeks. Yesterday, during the opening statement and calling her first two witnesses to the stand, she’d barely been able to keep her mind from returning directly to Masaun and exactly how her backside became so sore. However, at the same time during the day when she started to worry or doubt her ability, the subtle throbbing in her rear end would help her to regain her focus. At times like that she would have pulled her hands beneath the counselor table and squeezed her fist as she breathed or used any recess time to take a moment for herself. But, the sting in her backside kept her hands free and her mind clear as she breathed silently to herself with no one the wiser.
Red Hots Page 11