Her Troika (The Complete Story) (Dominion Trust Book 2)

by Trent Evans

  Nodding, she disappeared into the room, one of the side table lamps flickering on, splashing the hallway with warm, yellow light.

  You cannot do this. You've already gone way past where you should have.

  Dumping his keys and wallet on the counter, he unbuttoned his shirt, yanking it from his jeans. His cock was hard, throbbing, and he winced knowing he was unlikely to find any relief for it tonight. He needed to keep his mind on what he was supposed to do, rather than on how much he wanted to fuck her.

  Yeah, right.

  "This is so fucking stupid, Derek,” he whispered. “Just tell her to put her clothes on then take her home."

  He didn't want to though. No, he wanted to do anything but that. There was a beautiful woman, lying on his bed, half naked. A woman who would let him — who would want him to — do anything he pleased to her.

  What kind of an asshole turned down a dream come true?

  In your dream the girl isn't your friend's wife.

  Absurd, really. He'd already fucked her, made her suck his cock. Used her. So why was this any different?

  It was different — because this wasn't some fantasy anymore. This was real, this was really happening.

  He looked down the hallway, his finger flicking one of his keys back and forth across the black tile of his kitchen counter.

  "Better get this over with, asshole."

  Steeling himself for what he might find, he walked into his room, the one floorboard the landlord could never quite fix squeaking under his boot. The light from the small lamp illuminated the curves of Breanna's bottom, the sweat forming at the small of her back. Her legs were tight together, extending behind her in a straight, tense line, the lavender string of her thong emerging from the top of the crevice of tanned buttocks. There was one bruise still on her lower left cheek, the color now faded to a ghostly shadow of its formerly livid glory.

  "That still hurt? When you sit on it?" He cleared his throat, the lump there making his voice sound muddled.

  "Um, what?"

  "That bruise. I'm surprised it's still visible."

  "You did a good job." Her voice was muffled a bit from the bedspread, her body vibrating with tension. "It doesn't hurt, though."

  He sat next to her, the springs whispering under him. He couldn't resist palming the glory of that round ass, its mouthwatering perfection, the heavenly softness of her flesh something he knew he'd never tire of feeling under his hand.

  "Breanna, I —"

  "It's okay, you know."

  He glanced over at her. "What is?"

  "To spank me, to — want to hurt me."

  "What the hell would you say..." He shifted his hand to her far cheek, pulling her close, the curve of her hip against his leg.

  "I want you to, Derek. There's no reason not to be who you are — with me."

  "How do you know who that is?" His hand squeezed her ass, hard, and she sucked in a quick breath.

  "At the farm. That was the real, Derek. Are you going to deny it?"

  "No ..."

  "Then let that real Derek out — and never hide him away ever again." She turned toward him, curling her warm, inviting body around his lower back. "Take that chance, Derek. Please."

  "The farm was ... a dream."

  Did he even believe his own words, though? He could feel his will to resist her crumbling, the vision of her kneeling before him flashing through his mind.

  "Kurt. What about Kurt?"

  "You don't think he gets anything out of this?" Her hand stroked his thigh.

  "How could he? He's not here."

  "That's exactly the point," she said, the smile evident in her voice. She clutched tighter to him, the soft pillows of her breasts pressing to his back. "The last test, Derek. The last step..."

  "To what?" He leaned into her, bringing one of her long legs over his lap, the heat of her sex against his hip.

  "To you accepting me — accepting us. That we could make this work."

  "By screwing his wife? Alone?" He sighed. “I feel like a fucking dirt bag, Breanna. Even considering what we've done, it still feels wrong."

  She slid back off the bed, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as she stood. Looking down upon him, she reached back to unclasp her bra, the white lace falling away, her heavy breasts bursting forth, his hands already itching to squeeze them cruelly.

  Her head tilted, her hands on her hips. “When I next see Kurt, he'll make me tell him everything. Every detail. He'll make me kneel at his feet and play with my pussy while I tell him what it felt like to have your cock stretch me, how hard you spanked me." Her eyes sparkled in the warm, yellow light of the lamp. "Then he'll make me thank him the way a good wife does. While I choke on his cock, he'll ask me who I belong to, who owns this body." She reached out, her delicate fingers stroking the stubble at his jaw. "And do you know what the answer will be, Derek? The answer he'll want me to say? To believe? Know?"

  "I don't ..."

  Breanna dropped to her knees, the fluidity of the motion bespeaking long practice. Her hands eased up his thighs, his balls vibrating with an electric pleasure. Leaning close, her lips tickled at his ear, the whisper of breath against his temple. "Both of you. I belong to both of you now, Derek."

  Surging up off the bed, he caught her by the shoulders, lifting her, and did the one thing he'd ached to do all weekend, but hadn't the courage.

  Kiss her.

  Breathing shocked delight into his mouth, she purred as his tongue explored the wet, yielding of her mouth, his teeth nibbling her lips, catching her little tongue between them. He'd missed this so much. It was something he feared he'd never feel again, might never deserve to feel again.

  Closeness.

  Her hands roamed up his neck, fingers playing with his hair as she returned his kisses, her breath hot, rasping, her passion rising. He was a Dom — he accepted that now — yet letting her have this, explore him as much as he explored her, felt right somehow. Now he'd put all that aside — and make love to her as a man loved a woman. Nothing more, nothing less.

  "Derek, please! I need you." Her mouth pressed hard kisses to his neck, his ear, his cheek. "Inside me. Please."

  He held her close, reaching up to clasp her chin in his hand, stilling her movements. "Missed this," he whispered. "God, I missed this."

  "Never again," she said, smiling up at him with those achingly beautiful blue eyes, planting a gentle kiss on his finger as he felt the softness of her lips. "You'll never be without it again, Derek. You've got me now."

  "No, you don't understand." He held her tight, even as he feared she'd bolt, feared at any moment she'd deprive him of the magic of her touch. "What I need, what I am. You don't ..."

  She kissed him again, hard, then stared up into his eyes, her gaze fierce. "Give it all to me, Derek. All that you are, all that darkness, all that hurt, that rage. Pour it into me. Break me with it — I'll take all of it. Fill me up — and let it go." She hugged herself close, pressing tiny kisses to the hollow of his neck, her voice dropping to a whisper. "And let me love you — all of you, Derek. Just let me love you."

  Could this be real? Was it possible that he'd finally found it? Did he deserve the chance, despite everything? No matter how wrong this was? He had to risk it, had to hope again — take that leap.

  To accept love again. To accept that he deserved love again.

  "Breanna, I'm — this is so fucked up." He inhaled deeply, his body shuddering, his hands caressing the smooth muscles of her back, her head thrown back with a groan as his lips tasted the tender flesh at the join between shoulder and neck, tasted of her yielding vulnerability.

  "Derek, you don't need—"

  "Shh," he said, squeezing the weight of one of her soft buttocks in his hand. "Let me get this out." He pulled back, locking his gaze with hers. "I know this is so wrong, no matter what you say. No matter what he says. But there's one more thing wrong with this. No matter what I do, what I say, what I tell myself ten thousand times a day, it's the same thing
I know the first moment I wake, and the last moment before sleep." He caressed the smoothness of her cheek, his thumb easing over her bottom lip. "It's the one thing. I think I'm falling in love with my friend's wife. I'm falling in love with you, Breanna."

  She clasped his head in both hands, her soft lips against his, a flash in her gaze. "Then show me what a man does with the woman he loves. Show me what the real Derek wants."

  It was a challenge, another test — and it was time to show this bewitching woman just who was in charge here. Time to be who he was, even if only for one more night.

  “You’re forgetting your place here, Breanna.”

  “And what’s that?” Her gaze leveled with him, defiant. “I’m not interested in soft men, in men afraid of themselves. If that’s what I’m dealing with here, I’ll just show myself out.”

  He lowered his chin, his voice dropping to a rumble. “You’re not going anywhere. I think you’re going to regret pushing your luck. Stop now, while you’re ahead, and keep that smart mouth shut.”

  “Make me.”

  His fist tangled in the thick tresses of her hair, and he wrenched her head back, her mouth dropping open with a surprised gasp. “Gladly, bad girl.”

  Her hands pushed at his chest, but he dragged her downward as he sat on the foot of his bed, using his grip on her hair to pull her head close. Her breath rasped, her breasts heaving. He nipped her ear, her body tensing at the smart. “Lay over my lap. Don’t say a fucking word, or you’ll regret it.”

  “Go fu—”

  His palm slapped her ass, hard, the sound like a pistol shot, making her jump. She whined as his implacable grip on her hair yanked the roots. “Down. Now, Breanna.”

  Her gaze caught his under the wild fringe of her tresses, her eyes searching, uncertain.

  “You’re going to have plenty to report to Kurt about tonight, Breanna.” He hauled her by the hair over his thighs, until she sprawled forward with a groan. “First, we’ll take care of that spanking you so badly need.”

  Taking his time, he tipped her forward until she balanced just right, his hand clenching in her hair again, getting a better grip. He tucked her hips close, making sure she felt the rampant erection tenting his jeans. “Just be still now. I’m going to spank this pretty ass of yours, and there’s not a thing you can do about it.” He pulled her head up by her hair, whispering in her ear. “You’re not gonna sit comfortably for a week.”

  He pressed her head back down, his hand coursing along her neck, following the bumps of her vertebrae. Clasping her narrow waist, he held her still, folding her even tighter over his thighs, squeezing her body closer until she gasped. His hand stroked the satiny skin of her buttocks, his thumb circling that faded bruise. “I love this ass.”

  With a loud crack, he smacked his palm over that bruise, her body jerking. “Ever since I watched you in the stall, crying over Kurt’s lap as he turned this ass red, I’ve thought of this. Having you to myself, what I’d do to you if I got that same chance.” He squeezed the soft flesh of her buttock. “So what do you think I’ll do, Breanna? Do you think I should go easy on you?”

  “Yes,” she whispered.

  “What was that? Speak up.”

  “Yes … Sir.”

  “Better,” he rumbled, caressing the trembling muscles of her thighs. “And do you think I will go easy on you?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “You’re right.”

  Without further preamble he began spanking her, each smack loud in the quiet room, her body staying still, her muscles thrumming with tension. Giving her a little pat to sight each blow, he smacked down with full force, loving the way her flesh rippled with every spank. He knew how much the feel of her flesh moving under his smacks would mortify her, how her bottom wobbled under his punishing palm. He alternated cheeks at first, then concentrated on each one individually, raining hard blows from the top of her hips down to mid-thigh, the latter making her tense and groan at each smack.

  “I never would have guessed you’d have an ass like this, Breanna. You’re so athletic, so tall, but you’ve got this little soft, round bottom.” He smacked down on the center of it, both cheeks flattening, then rebounding under the hard blow. “I can see why Kurt likes to have you over his knee. I think I’d spank you every day, if you were mine.”

  “I am,” she said in a strained, muffled voice.

  “What?” He slapped both thighs in quick succession and she cried out, the hamstrings rigid cords under his hand.

  “I am … yours,” she whimpered, her voice breaking on the last word.

  He wanted it to be true, even if it was only for tonight. Tomorrow that dream would fade with the dawn, but now, as evening gave way to the night, he’d live it, make the most of it, savor her, enjoy her as if it was his last night he’d ever have.

  He peppered her ass with more harsh blows, delighting in the way her buttocks shivered and jiggled at each smack. He pressed a palm to the warm flesh, easing her cleft open.

  “Mmm, wet I think.” His fingers slipped between hot, slippery labia, testing the depths. “Yes, very wet. Just like I like you.”

  Spreading her moisture over the soft petals of her cunt, he stroked more of it down the perineum, swirling wetness around the dark whorl of her anus. Her cheeks tried to tighten, and he smacked her twice, the hard glows making her grunt. “No way. Open them.”

  Slowly, she obeyed, and he paused to spread the cheeks wide, fully exposing the entirety of her cleft. “Getting a little stubble here, don’t you think? You’ll need to shave better than this. Maybe I’ll need to help you with that, Breanna?”

  Her blonde head dropped with a tiny sob. “Yes, Sir.”

  Finger circling the delicate flesh of her anus, she tensed, though she kept herself from clenching. He caressed the warm, pink of her buttocks. “Getting there, but we’re not done yet.”

  “Wait—”

  Smacks, slow, deliberate ones rang out at regular intervals, her hips beginning to squirm as the toll of the hard blows began to tell, the heat in her soft, vulnerable flesh rising by the moment. Soon, she was crying out at each smack, her bottom weaving, moving, trying anything to assuage the pain. He held her tight, growling at her to be still, and smacked the same spot — where her bottom met her thighs— repeatedly, her keening rising an octave at each successive spank. He marched blows down the kicking smoothness of her thighs, her cries filling the darkened room, her heels coming up, his barked command to drop them only reluctantly obeyed, for which he gave her two harsh smacks across the fleshiest part of her bottom.

  He wasn’t sure what it is he was looking for, what he needed from this. All he knew was that having her over his lap, her ass vulnerable to anything he cared to do with it, spoke to him on an elemental level, a blend of possession and sadism and control rising up with him in a way that he wasn’t sure how to handle.

  So he didn’t. He just let it be, tried to accept it.

  He stilled, his hand circling the deep red, swollen flesh of her buttocks, her sniffles just audible between great gusts of her breath. The sound shook him, even as it made his cock even harder, and he shook his head. “Shh, it’s okay now. All done with your spanking, Breanna.”

  As he stroked the burning flesh of her swollen bottom, he eased the cheeks apart once more, dipping his finger into the glistening pussy. He paused to breathe in the incredible scent of her, as he stirred her up, his finger pushing hard and deep several times, curling against her the way he knew she loved.

  Pressing the soaked fingertip against her bottomhole, she sucked in a breath, holding it.

  “It’s okay, you can do this. Just push back on me, Breanna.” He eased the finger inside, her muscles tight, but yielding enough to allow him deeper. “That’s a girl. Loosen it, loosen it. There!”

  He pushed in firmly, his knuckles against the hot, soft flesh of the base of her buttocks. Then taking up a gentle thrusting, he cooed to her. “Good girl! Good, just relax now. Ahh fuck, I could do this foreve
r.”

  His cock throbbed angrily, her naked hip writhing against it, not helping matters one bit. He thrust deeper, turning his finger within the hot clutch of her bottom, the tip curling, and she gasped, her body rigid

  “Oh God, that’s so good. Soo good,” she breathed, her voice trembling.

  Derek leaned over her, planting a kiss on her upper back. “One day soon it’s going to be my cock in here, Breanna. It’ll be a tight fit, but you’ll take me anyway. All of me.”

  She shuddered, a sound coming from deep in her throat as he thrust more vigorously, pushing as far as he could go. He wanted to fuck her ass right now, make her cry out as he stretched that little ring hard around his cock, pushing deep. Taking her.

  But he couldn’t wait any longer — he needed to be inside that pussy, to feel the velvet clutch, the heat of her as he took her. With a surprised noise from Breanna, he slipped his finger from her bottom , wiping it on her trembling, well-marked thigh. “Get on the bed, hands and knees,” he said, his voice thick. “Put those tits on the mattress and lay your arms on the bed.”

  He moved her off his lap, watching her obey, her eyes darting to him once, then lowering again. He squeezed her poor, flaming bottom as she brushed past him. He turned, stroking the rounded perfection of her hip, patting it possessively. “Reach for the headboard. Stretch, Breanna.”

  His hand squeezed her flesh. “Good girl.”

  Taking a moment, he stood back, drinking in the incredible sight of her glistening, reddened cunt peeping from between trembling, well-punished thighs, the roundness of her bottom fair glowing from her spanking.

  “That pussy is positively gushing, slut. You must’ve liked your spanking.”

  A muffled whimper from Breanna had him laying a palm on her hip. “Well? Did you?”

  “Yes, Sir,” her voice nearly breaking.

  “Get those legs together, that’s enough showing off that cunt.”

  His finger traced the long black stiletto heels. He loved the way they huddled together beneath her waiting, punished bottom, the one item he allowed her to wear somehow making her seem even more naked, more vulnerable.