by Tawny Taylor
I need to leave. Right now.
As he pulled my panties down, I thought, this is wrong. Dangerous.
And as I was finally left sitting on that table completely nude, I thought, if you don’t stop this now, you’re going to get hurt.
But then he touched my face, looked at me with those dark, hungry eyes, and my heart started pounding harder, and my insides burned more, and I couldn’t think about anything but having him inside me, filling me, stroking away the ache between my legs.
Before I realized it, he had me lying on my back, legs spread, wrists bound in leather cuffs and chained to the table so my hands were useless, tied over my head.
I was trapped, not completely powerless, but almost. I couldn’t catch my breath. I wanted to be set free. And yet I didn’t. It was all happening so fast.
My insides clenched as he fingered my slick folds, both in anticipation and fear. I’d seen internet porn, pictures of girls with smudged makeup, their mouths stuffed with gags, their bodies bound and clamped and paddled. Those images scared me, disturbed me. Did I really want to know if those things hurt as badly as the pictures led me to believe? I had a feeling if I didn’t put a stop to things now I was going to find out soon.
Red, red, red.
That finger, the one teasing, tormenting me, delved deeper, finding my entry and piercing it roughly. I bucked, blood surging through my body.
“You are so damn tight.” He added a second finger, and I cried out. My insides clenched around the invading digits, warmth gushing, easing his entry as they slid deeper, teasing the opening of my womb before gliding out. He pushed them in again, out, knuckles scraping against that place inside that made me quiver with need. I could feel the first tremors of an orgasm quake through my body, but I fought it, wanting this sweet torment to last much, much longer.
He groaned as I clenched my inner muscles again. “I have to have you.”
I heard the ziiip of his zipper, the slough of fabric. The crinkle of a condom wrapper. My fingers curled into fists. My legs shook as I waited. I’d had so few partners. And it had been such a long time since I’d enjoyed a climax that wasn’t produced from a battery operated device. I wanted this, God help me, I did. Wanted it more than I should.
Within seconds, I felt him, pushing his way past my sodden tissues, entering me slowly, inch by glorious inch. I stretched to accommodate his girth. He was big, very thick. Almost too big for me. It burned, but it wasn’t entirely bad.
He pushed my thighs wider apart, hands on the backs, pushing them out and up toward my shoulders so my spine was curled, hips lifted. The friction of his forward thrust nearly sent me over the brink. The added torture of his finger flicking lightly over my clit finished the job. A white hot blaze swept through my body, igniting every nerve, from the tip of my toes to the top of my head. I convulsed around him so hard it almost hurt. I cried out his name as he surged forward and back, thrusting hard into me, driving toward his own release.
My orgasm had barely faded when I felt his member swell as he climaxed. My body still vibrating from the effects of the first one, I tumbled into another orgasm. I jerked and writhed and screamed as he pounded mercilessly into me, driving every drop of come from his body.
And then, he bent over me and laid his head on my chest. His semi-flaccid member remained buried deep inside me. Little twitches and tingles accompanied the warm afterglow of that mind-blowing experience. I’d never come like that.
“You are exquisite,” he said a few minutes later. He straightened, but only after giving me a sweet kiss on the chin. He grasped the base of his cock, holding the used condom in place and pulled out. My first instinct was to clamp my legs closed and look away.
Yes, that had been the most intense sex of my life. But I was confused. I wanted to leave. Now.
I needed to think.
I just had kinky sex with Uncle Shane.
“You’ll come back next weekend.” After he put his clothes all in order, he released me.
“I’ll…I have to check my schedule.” I wasted no time reclaiming my clothing and getting myself zipped and buttoned back in. I had to get out of there. I was confused, hordes of emotions washing over me. Regret. Curiosity. Guilt. Anticipation.
“Will you stay a little longer?” he asked, moving toward me as I scurried for the door. He caught my wrist, stopping me. “You’re in such a hurry all of a sudden. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine.” I blinked at him, catching a worried look in his eyes. “I’m fine,” I repeated. “Really. It’s just a lot to absorb all at once.”
He cupped my cheek with my free hand. “I understand. You’ll call me when you’re ready.”
“Will do.”
He let me go.
Out I went. I rode the elevator alone, climbed into his car and buckled myself in while he locked up and rode the elevator down to the parking lot. Safe in his car, I watched him as he ambled over to the vehicle. He was such a handsome man. And his body, that body was absolutely incredible. And to top it all off, he knew exactly how to touch me, to kiss me, to hold me. On so many levels, we seemed to click. With the exception of one.
“What plans do you have for next weekend?” he asked as he steered the zoomy car out into traffic.
“I’m not sure.”
“I see.”
I made an attempt at small talk as he drove me home. I really did. But I failed. Thus, much of the drive was in silence. I let him kiss me goodbye in the car. Thankfully, it was just a small peck. Friendly but not overly intimate. Then I locked myself into my condo and had a good, long cry.
* * * * *
Three weeks later, that night with Shane still haunted me. He’d called me a few days later and left a message. He’d told me to return his call if I had an interest in seeing him again. I hadn’t called him back. Not because I didn’t want to see him again. I did. But because I didn’t want to want him so much.
Since that night all I’d dreamed about was him and his dungeon. I woke up every morning, body tight, blood simmering. Thoughts of him popped into my head all day long, at the oddest moments. I’d hear a man’s voice, and my heart would start galloping in my chest like a runaway race horse. I’d catch the scent of a man’s cologne, and my blood would start simmering. I’d spy a dark haired man in a crowd and my knees would turn soft.
Shane Trant had become an obsession. There was no way I could face him. Not yet. Not for a long time.
So I went about my life, doing the best I could to pretend everything was normal. I went to work. I went to the gym. I went grocery shopping and paid my bills and tried to tell myself I was happy.
By the time the fourth week had passed, I had almost convinced myself that I was going to put Shane and that night behind me. I was in Antonio’s, grabbing some vegetable lasagna to take home for a late dinner. I heard his voice, and every nerve in my body ignited.
“Bristol,” he said, behind me.
I slowly swiveled, doing what I could to mentally brace myself as I turned. Still, the sight of his handsome face made my heart jerk in my chest. “Hello, Shane.”
His lips were curled into a ghost of a smile. “It’s good to see you again.”
“Yes. How are the renovations going?” I asked, feeling myself leaning back, away from him. A little quiver of need shot through me as my gaze focused on his mouth. That mouth had done wicked, decadent things to me. And I knew, if I was brave enough to ask, it could do a lot more wickeder things to me.
He stepped closer, allowing a customer standing behind him to get through the crowded space. Now he was standing close enough to touch. Close enough to smell his cologne, to feel his heat. He extended an arm, placing a hand on the bar behind me. “I’m just getting things started, thanks. And how’s life without two mortgages?”
I inhaled deeply. “Wonderful.”
“Miss, there you are.” The bartender handed me a plastic bag, and I thanked her before turning back to Shane.
Holding the bag, I shifted
my weight. Wow, was he close. I needed to leave. I could feel my willpower failing. What would happen if I asked him if I could go home with him right now? Would he take me back to that dark dungeon of his? Would he make me forget why it was such a bad idea? “Well, I guess I’d better get going.”
“Sure. Wouldn’t want your…?” He lifted a brow.
“Vegetarian lasagna,” I said.
“Vegetarian lasagna to get cold.”
“No, I wouldn’t.” I took a step away, two. I’d almost made it to the door before turning back. When I did, I discovered he was watching me. My face burned. I opened my mouth, but no words came out. I didn’t know what to say. How could I explain everything to him? How?
That ghost of a smile warmed slightly. Then he turned away from me to talk to the bartender.
I left, scurrying outside. I dug in my purse for my keys as I click-clacked across the dark parking lot. Just as I was remoting open my car’s door lock, I heard him again. He’d followed me outside.
I opened the door and dropped my dinner onto the driver’s seat. By the time I’d done that, he was behind me. I could sense his nearness with every nerve in my body. I turned, opened my mouth again to say something.
He cupped my cheeks and smashed his mouth down over mine.
Instantly my body ignited, and all the wanting I’d been trying to suppress surged to the surface, overwhelming my system like a tidal wave. Before I knew it, he had me pinned between his hard body and my car and his tongue was plunging into my mouth, filling it with his decadent flavor.
I was outside, where a passerby might see me, but I didn’t care. All that mattered was how it felt to have his hands on me again, his heat radiating over my skin. My insides were twisting and turning, muscles coiling into tight knots.
Hands cupped under my ass, he lifted me, and I locked my legs around his waist and arms around his neck, and held on. My skirt was up over my hips, but it didn’t matter. He wasn’t going to let me go again, not now, not ever. No. I was his. He was mine. We’d figure everything else out later.
His hands left my butt, and I heard the ziiip of a zipper. Ohmygod, was he going to…?
He had my back pinned against the slightly angled face of the driver’s side window. We were standing between my car and a minivan. It was dark.
But still I knew, even with the haze of need enveloping me almost completely, that someone could catch us at any moment.
His fingers hooked the crotch of my panties. There was a sharp yank, and the sodden material gave way. Cool air caressed my heated flesh, making me shiver.
“You aren’t going to hide from me again,” he said as he plunged his thick cock into me.
“No, I won’t,” I promised, tipping my hips to meet his thrust. “Never again.”
“Sir. Call me sir.” He slid deep. Full at last. Oh God, it felt so good, so right. Even here. Yes, here.
“I’ll never hide again, sir” I promised. I meant it too, every word.
“You should be punished.” He withdrew, to the tip then rammed deep again.
“Yes.” A surge of carnal heat rushed through me. I was going to come already. I could feel it, tingles of a powerful climax buzzing and zapping through my body. “I’m sorry. Punish me. Punish me hard.”
He did. He took me without mercy, pounding into my tight tissues with all his might. I surrendered to his possession and let myself be carried away by a powerful orgasm, screaming his name as the first spasm wracked my body. I trembled and quaked, gasping for breath as his torment continued. He showed me no mercy, pushing me over the edge again, making me come a second time before finally reaching his own climax. He slammed his mouth over mine as he jerked his cock out of me. His low growl of satisfaction vibrated in my mouth, my head, my throat. Trembling all over, I clung to him and fought to catch my breath. I’d never done anything like this. I’d never even dreamed of doing anything like this.
Sex in public?
Ohmygod. I’d just had sex in public.
While I huffed and puffed, he tucked himself back in his pants and zipped up. Then, holding me tenderly, he eased me to my feet and smoothed my skirt down. His gaze locked on mine.
“I’m sorry,” I said, tears gathering in my eyes. I dragged my thumbs under my lashes then crossed my arms over my chest. “I was scared.”
“Bristol.” Holding my hips, he pulled me into his arms. He kissed the top of my head and encased me in a warm embrace. “I want to protect you, if you’ll let me.” He cupped his hand under my chin, lifting it. “What were you scared of? Me?”
“No, not you. I was scared of how you made me feel, how powerful my wanting for you is.”
He caressed my cheek, thumbing away a tear that had dribbled down the side. “Baby, my wanting for you has been driving me mad for four weeks. I haven’t eaten. I can’t sleep. I can’t think. I haven’t even started the renovations on the house yet because I can’t concentrate on anything but you. I’ve wondered where you were, what you were doing, why you wouldn’t call me. You see what you’ve done to me? You’ve tormented me, haunted me. And I’m thankful. You’ve given me a reason to live again, to think about tomorrow. To plan for next week, next month.”
I’d never heard such beautiful words before. I was speechless.
“Tell me you’re mine, Bristol. I need to hear you say it.”
I looped my arms around his neck and rose up on tiptoes. He dipped his head down, lower, lower until our mouths were a breath apart. Then, I whispered, “I’m yours, Shane. I’ve been yours from the start, after that first magical kiss.” And then, I sealed my promise with a kiss. It was as magical as the first one. Not because it was a possession. No, it was a surrender. It was an unspoken vow. He was my master, and I was his slave. Yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Now I understood. I didn’t need to be afraid. Shane would never hurt me; he would never break my heart. I could trust him like I’d never trusted another man. He would be my lover, my protector, my strength, my courage. But only if I turned myself over to him, mind and body.
When the kiss ended, he smiled. “Now, you deserve a reward.” His hand slid around to my back, cupping my bottom, and a shiver of desire quaked through me. I leaned into him, feeling his hard, hot need pressing against my stomach.
“Here? Again?” I asked, a secret thrill setting my heart racing.
“No, eat first. You’re going to need your strength. I have big plans for you tonight. Big plans.”
My body ignited as he angled past me, opened my car door and pulled my bag of vegetable lasagna out. “Yes, sir.” We walked hand in hand to his car. And minutes later, we were zooming through quiet streets toward his home, toward his dungeon.
My new playroom.
My new sanctuary.
The End
What He Demands
(My Alpha Billionaire, Book 2)
Chapter 1
Five weeks after running into “Uncle” Shane Trant for the first time in ten years, my life has taken a completely unexpected turn. Not only was I now free of the burden of making two house payments every month--Shane bought the house I’d inherited from my mother--but I was also in a new “relationship.” This relationship was nothing like any I’d ever shared with a man before.
I was Shane Trant’s submissive.
I still didn’t know all the rules and expectations that went into our arrangement. But after last weekend, I’ve learned a little. I’ve made a few mistakes, and I’ve been punished. I can handle the punishments okay. The rewards…? Let’s just say they definitely make it all worthwhile.
Turns out there are real advantages to having a master with nearly unlimited resources.
“You are the luckiest girl on earth!” my best friend Jill said as she flounced onto my bed. Wearing a pair of jean shorts and a tank top, she was watching me pack for my first full weekend with Shane. Once upon a time I’d said the same about her--that she was the luckiest girl. She was an attorney with a great job and, until last week, a great boyfriend. “I wish
he had a brother.”
“I think he does.”
“Find out for me, will you?”
“Will do.” I smoothed a frothy white concoction of lace on top of the small stack of clothes I’d packed. I hadn’t expected packing for this weekend to be so complicated. Shane preferred me naked. That should have meant I didn’t need a lot of clothes, just a few things for going out. But on Wednesday he’d sent me a letter and a package. The letter contained a lengthy list of items to bring for our weekend together, including my passport. The package, hand delivered by courier, contained a handful of gorgeous, expensive day and evening dresses--purchased by Shane, of course.
“Where do you think he’s taking you?” Jill asked, lying on her stomach, chin resting on her fists.
“Since he told me to bring my passport, I’m assuming it’s somewhere out of the country. But I have no clue.”
She gave a melodramatic sigh that was very much out of character for her. “He’s taking you on a trip. That is so freaking romantic.”
“He used to live in Spain,” I said, thinking aloud as I wedged a few pretty bras into my suitcase.
“Spain,” Jill repeated on a second sigh. “Spain! I’ve been wanting to visit Spain forever. The beaches. The Guggenheim. The Tomato Festival.”
“Tomato festival?” I echoed. I hadn’t realized Jill was so into tomatoes.
“Yes, you heard that right. It’s not what you might expect.” Jill’s expression was both wistful and lustful. “Close your eyes.” I closed them. “Now, instead of imagining dozens of white tents, vendors selling baskets of tomatoes, imagine hundreds of shirtless suntanned, young, scrumptious Spanish men throwing tomatoes at each other.”
“Hmmm. That sounds…interesting.” The image in my head wasn’t so pretty. So instead, I imagined Shane lounging poolside, skin glistening, hair a mass of wet curls as I knelt next to him, rubbing suntan lotion on his scrumptious chest.