by Christa Wick
I groaned, trembling in anticipation of which hole Collin intended to fill. Releasing his hold on my butt cheek, he lubricated his fingers. I sensed him coating the ball and then his fingers found my anus.
I gasped, then moaned, a mad throb taking possession of my pussy.
Chuckling softly, Collin moved behind me, fingering my ass with one then two then three fingers. I couldn't remain still no matter how much I knew he expected me to. Or pretended to expect. I sensed he took immense pleasure from my lack of control, each twitch, moan or climax serving as an excuse to continue playing with me.
Slowly, he teased the ball into my ass. "I'm going to fuck this sweet pussy until you release all over the floor, love."
It wasn't a braggart's boast. He had made me come like that more than a dozen times, knew just the right sequence of strokes and bites and rough thrusts it took to make the dam break and the floor flood.
With the ball in place, he pressed against my back and bottom, his pelvis playfully butting against the metal bar. His hands snaked around front to test the clamps. Finding me still sensitive to his touch, he gave a sharp tug and I cried out.
A quick jump of his hands to mine and he freed me from the wrist restraints. "On your knees, baby."
I dropped to the floor, my ass and pussy willingly, eagerly presented to him. He rubbed at my aching slit.
"Head lower, ass higher."
Crossing my forearms in front of me, I used them as a cushion and pressed one cheek to them. My breasts, the nipples throbbing from the clamps, brushed over the cold floor. I squealed, pussy twitching from the overload of sensations, but remembered to lift my ass higher before he could offer a correcting pinch or swat.
"So beautiful, love," Collin whispered right before the fat head of his cock breached my pussy. "Every last inch of you."
Beautiful, love, gorgeous, baby, sweet Mia—the words had lightly salted his sentences those first few nights after business delayed our return to the States. By the fourth night, we didn't make it through a full session of play before he had uttered each word at least once.
I no longer recoiled at any of them, didn't subconsciously or openly dismiss his sincerity. That was as much a part of the deal I made with myself not to analyze anything and just feel. When I stopped thinking about how the words should make me feel, it no longer hurt to hear them.
"Baby..." Draping his chest lightly against my back and the metal bar that separated us, he braced one arm on the floor, the other on my hip. "You feel amazing, so tight and swollen."
Swollen, yes. Collin had put a belt on me at lunch. No ordinary chastity device, it came with a thick plug that fit snugly in my pussy and made me conscious of every minute of the eight hours that passed before he finished work and returned to the suite.
Removing the belt, he had fingered me to my first climax of the night. Sweet, tender, nothing like the lashing that would soon follow, he had me lie on the couch, one foot on the floor and the other tight against the back cushion so that I was fully open to him. He had suckled, too, as he fingered me, his tongue and lips busy teasing my clit.
More than my own release, I saw the tension he had carried with him ease from his shoulders the closer I approached to my climax.
So, yes, the plug and his fingers had caused the soft tissues inside my pussy to swell and now his thick cock was in me, locked tight as he buried it balls deep. His hand drifted from my hip to the clamp on that side. He ran his fingertip against the hard, aching tip, his lips planting a kiss between my shoulder blade each time a mewling whine escaped me.
He undid the clamp, then shifted his weight and supporting arm so that he could similarly tease the other needy nipple before freeing it. When both devices were off, he pushed down between my shoulder blades, forcing me to lower my upper body until my nipples and breasts were flattened against the cold marble floor.
The sensation made me tighten around him and buck. I pressed my lips together, fighting for control. He hooked a finger inside my mouth and pried it open.
"I want to hear you when you come, want to see your lips quiver and watch you take those hard pants of air because you don't want to let go and let the pleasure claim you."
Relaxing my jaw, I closed my eyes. He had transported me back to that earlier moment when I thought him my sovereign. For the next few minutes, he would be that man. It was okay, too, that temporary surrender. Faced with a wall of pleasure, I had learned to forgive myself the momentary failings when all I wanted were these final moments with him before we both unleashed.
"That's it, love," he coaxed, his fingers sliding over my hip, across my lower belly to the center of my need—my pulsing, aching clit. He stroked me there, slow and tender and relentless as his mouth found my neck and sucked.
"I can feel you coming."
Yes, I had tripped over into another orgasm, my mind floating, lifting, my flesh weightless as he ground against me. My walls contracted, quivered, pulsed. Alien sounds strangled out of my throat and past my lips as his fingers and thrusts discovered a faster pace.
I leaked onto his hand, first in small drips, then little squirts until my release had no recourse other than thick jets that spurted with each buck of my hips...with each sob torn from me. Heat blasted through my stomach then spread to warm my breasts against the cold floor. My pussy twisted around his shaft as my ass slurped and sucked at the metal ball, my entire body a paroxysm of pleasure.
When my wild jerks finally ceased and my cries dropped to satisfied moans, Collin wrapped both arms around me and lifted me onto the bed—our bed for the last two nights. He removed the metal ball and its bar then the collar. His hands caressed, his lips soothed, each ache evaporating beneath his touch.
Settling next to me, he pulled the covers over us and let me bury my head against his chest. Stroking my hair, Collin said something, repeating it twice more. Trembling through each syllable and repetition, the words finally sank in.
Please don't cry, love.
15
Mia
Something flipped that night. The toys disappeared. If anything was inside me, it was his cock, fingers or tongue. If he wanted my nipples sore and aching, he pinched and sucked them to that point. If he wanted my bottom red, he spanked it.
Flesh on flesh on flesh.
He took two days off to show me Dubai and the surrounding desert. We watched the sun as it set over the water one night and over the golden dunes the next. He held me through the duration of both sunsets, his hands and mouth leisurely sampling my body, slowly bringing me to a boil so that I climaxed just as the sun dropped below the horizon.
Analysis crept back in. How could it not? This was not the Collin Stark I had known all those weeks. Where I had felt secure offering up my flesh to his expert hands, knowing any marks made would fade within a few hours, I shied at the realization he had started to mark me more deeply.
My heart was in peril.
When he left in the mornings, I cried afterwards. He seemed to know, too, his demeanor altered when he returned at lunch. He cradled me more fiercely those afternoons, forced me to hold his gaze longer. His lips would part and, seeing the consonants and vowels that had gathered along his tongue, I would brace for him to say something. Then he would blink, his mouth sealing, the words retreating back down his throat with a thick swallow.
At the beginning of the fourth week in Dubai, the alarm clock buzzed an hour earlier than normal. Collin shut it off then draped a possessive arm across my shoulder as he nuzzled my neck. The tender grazing moved down my body. When he reached my stomach, he brushed one stubbly cheek against the sensitive skin and sighed.
"I won't be back at lunch." His lips tracked to my navel, where he tongued the small hole before starting a new path leading toward my mound. "Come with me."
It took me half a minute to speak. Aside from the day of our arrival and the two days of sightseeing, I had not left the suite. "What will I do?"
"Keep me company." He lifted his head and offered a grin before his l
ips brushed over the hair covering my mound. "It's a facility tour, so no heels."
"Okay." My hands covered his hair as he took his first tentative lick. I let the play of his tongue over my clit and inside my pussy lure me from wondering why he had decided to let me out of the suite and whether this development meant he would take me to more of his meetings. I wanted him to because it would mean he trusted me.
Lock that thought down!
I stiffened and Collin raised his head.
"What's wrong, love?" He brushed his cheek against my thigh then kissed the spot.
"You're not in me," I teased, hoping the lie wasn't evident in my voice. Not that I didn't want him in me before we had to leave the bed to shower and dress. Damn straight I wanted him in me. I needed his cock hard and thrusting to drive out the fear and the ridiculous notion that first I would capture Collin's trust then his love.
I wasn't fool enough to think I had earned either despite the pet name he so often addressed me by.
Grabbing both of my hands with his, he rose from the bed. "I want to fill that sweet pussy in the shower, baby."
Fill it he did, the detachable shower head centered and pulsating on my clit as he slowly took me hard and deep from behind. My moans and delirious cries echoed off the tiled walls and marble floor. When he had me all climaxed out and every bone turned gelatinous, Collin pulled me into the dressing room and slowly dried my body.
"Is this why you set the alarm an hour early?" I asked as his mouth latched onto the tip of one nipple and he slowly sucked it into his mouth. Looking up at me, he nodded, my breast moving with him. I smiled at him, a gentle heat warming my chest.
Out in the bedroom, his phone went off, robbing me of those last few minutes of pleasure before we both had to dress.
Damn but it was hot in the desert beyond Dubai! After an hour's drive, we left the limo on a four-hour inspection of an air control facility under construction. We moved from blazing heat to air conditioned interiors to exposed structures then to cool, subterranean bunkers.
When we at last returned to the limo after viewing an antennae tower, I felt nauseous and dizzy. Collin wrapped an arm around my shoulder and reached for a bottled water. He broke the seal on the cap then handed it to me.
"Slowly, love."
He didn't need to warn me twice. My stomach lurched at the first swallow and I closed my eyes. The last week had been hard on my body, the early morning bouts of sobbing tying my guts in knots until I had to puke. Now the four hours of moving from hot to cold and back again had me ready to heave in Collin's lap.
I capped the bottle and placed it on the seat next to me. Caressing the side of my face, he guided my head onto his shoulder. I inhaled, hoping the deep spices of his cologne would calm the nausea.
No such luck.
"Baby, you're very pale." He kissed the crown of my head. "Are you sure you're okay?"
I looked up, shocked. Was that a note of worry I heard?
"It's nothing," I said, dismissing his concern. "Just the heat."
"You're probably right. One of our team fainted yesterday and he did a full tour in Afghanistan." He rubbed my arm before giving it an apologetic squeeze. "I'm sorry, love. It was selfish to bring you along."
I risked another look at Collin's face, relieved to find him staring out the window, the sides of his mouth pulled down. An all but overwhelming urge to ask what he was thinking bubbled up inside me. I squashed it, remembering my pledge and not wanting to sound like some needy, cliched lover.
Burying my face against his shoulder once more, I blanked my thoughts until my stomach settled and I finally drifted to sleep in his arms.
I slept more than an hour, the time known only by the brief flash of the marquee across from the hotel as I woke to a living hell. An explosion sounded. The limo buckled then flipped once to land on its top. I heard Collin's voice issuing orders, his hands on me, pulling me from the wreckage as I blacked out.
When I woke again, we were deep in the basement of the hotel—a fact I would only learn later. Collin and Trent were with me in a white room, as were a man and woman in blue medical scrubs. A bandage covered the right side of Collin's forehead. Seeing me awake, he reached out, his fingers bloodied. He pulled back before he could touch me and turned to the man in the scrubs.
"Are you certain she's okay?"
The man raised a calming hand. "We'll run a scan to make sure, but I need the blood test back first."
"Blood test?" I tried to push up, but Collin grabbed me by the shoulders and gently forced me to stay on the examination chair. Pain shot through my lower stomach and I curled my arms around my belly. "What happened?"
Trent answered sharply. "Someone tried to kill Mr. Stark."
My head jerked up, pain exploding in my skull until I thought I would pass out. I tried again to stand.
"Mia, sit down..."
Hearing the breathless quality in Collin's voice, I looked to find him staring just below my stomach. I sensed the wetness at the same time my gaze dropped. Blood, red and heavy, soaked through the fabric of my blue skirt. Vision graying, I felt hands seize me.
When I next opened my eyes, more medical staff filled the room. I could see Collin through the open door, his hands shaking from the force with which they gripped the collar of Trent's jacket. His jaw tight, veins popped along Collin's left temple.
"What happened?" I squeaked.
A nurse put her hand on my stomach and shook her head. "The baby—"
The doctor silenced her with a hiss.
Baby?
I looked through the door to find that Collin had relaxed his hold on Trent. Collin looked at me without an ounce of tenderness in his eyes. Anger, maybe even hate, glowed instead.
He thought I knew? How could he think I knew?
He had taken me only once without covering—that first night in Dubai when he had been furious with me about Glenn. Even that morning in the shower, a thin layer of latex had separated us. I had no symptoms...
My thoughts slowed as I looked back on a week of crying in the morning until I puked.
I shook my head, trying to communicate that I had not suspected. I hadn't lied about this, I hadn't omitted anything. I wanted to tell him that, but couldn't—not with the way he glared at me. He loathed me. I could see the sentiment burning in his gaze. He looked away, his attention landing sharply on Trent again.
"I want her out. As soon as she can fly." He shook his second in command. "You'll accompany her along with a physician from AH or Welcare and a full security team."
"I'm not leaving with someone trying to kill—"
Stark jerked on Trent's jacket until their faces were a hair's width from touching.
"You will," Stark barked back at him, his voice low and dangerous. Uncompromising in his decree that I be cast away asap.
I strangled on a plea that he hear me out, the words clogging my throat and robbing me of oxygen until I collapsed into unconsciousness.
16
Collin
Six Hours Earlier
I rolled. A body. A blast. Pain. More pain.
Somewhere in there, a woman I had to reach.
The woman I loved.
"Boss!"
Trent's voice somehow penetrated the deafening chaos, riddled with screams and shouts, and secondary blasts that managed to help fill in some of the blanks.
There’d been an explosion.
Suddenly, I felt his hands roughly prying at my fingers before he yelled again, "Someone grab her from him."
The woman—the one I had reached through flames and twisted metal to pull out. They wanted me to let go of her after all I had done to secure her.
No.
The words never made it past my lips. Something was wrong.
But still, I wouldn’t let go of her.
"She's safe!" Trent bellowed. “Now let go so we can get you both inside, damn it!"
A cacophony of sounds followed, before a ringing in my head sounded, like I was insid
e of a giant church bell. Then a less jarring, jangly buzz came and went as my grip on conscious thought slipped through my grasp.
Pain and sounds were all that was registering. Until soon, both were replaced by a dull ache that eventually faded to nothingness.
When I came to again, immediately, my hands squeezed at flesh. A pair of shocked brown eyes I didn’t recognize stared back at me as Trent's voice cut through the frantic noise all around in what looked and smelled like some sort of makeshift emergency room.
“Hell, let him go, Collin. He's trying to help you!"
Trent's hands were on my wrists an instant later, delivering fresh pain as he found the pressure points that forced me to release the doctor.
A needle slid into my vein, bringing a pitch black relief until I woke again, gray dancing at the edge of my vision, the symphony of ringing and buzzing muted now but still present. Not waiting for my vision to clear, I pushed up from the mattress, hands tearing at the IV tubing and vein catheter. Trent moved as if he would subdue me once again.
"Take me to her," I growled, my hand poised at his throat.
"She's fine," he barked back. "Sleeping in the next room."
I grabbed his shirt collar and jerked him to me. "One of these days, you'll learn how to lie."
Trent sighed. “She's unconscious. You both were concussed, but that's the only mark on her." His eyes closed in an exercise of patience. “While you, you obstinate bastard, left a pint of blood on the damn asphalt. Which is why you need that fucking IV back in your arm."
He wrenched my hand from his collar, turning it over to reveal the bandage running up my forearm. "Forty-two stitches. Even for you, that's got to be a personal record."
Fresh pain shot through the limb. The room started to spin. My ass hit the bed with a whump and I stayed down. Reaching up, I touched another bandage, this one on my forehead.
"I need to see her. Help me."
The request for assistance would be as close as I came to an apology. He didn't expect or want more, just discreetly offered his shoulder for me to latch onto and haul my body up. We walked like that to the next room where Mia waited unconscious in an examination chair.