Masters of Mercy Vol. 1 - 4 (BDSM erotica)

by Lyndon, Rebecca

  She wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted to. She could feel everything—the rough rope around her wrists, the heat of his hand on her skin, the cold concrete floor beneath her feet. Every inch of her was aware and alive.

  The guard had said that all of this was nothing more than fantasy, but it didn’t feel that way. She felt a very real connection between herself and Geoffrey, one that went beyond a few months of stolen glances and one very intense conversation. He knew things about her. He knew her body, her mind, her wants. And though it was absolutely ridiculous, she couldn’t shake the idea that maybe there really was something to this Ashira woman’s claims.

  She followed him on wobbly legs, and they stopped in front of a pair of saw horses. Hannah looked up from the floor and into the dark depths of Geoffrey’s eyes.

  “Please tell me what’s really going on? Why am I here? Why can’t I ever stop thinking of you?”

  He cupped his palm over her cheek, and she leaned into the tender touch. The scent of her pussy still clung to his fingers.

  “You’re precious to me, Hannah,” he said. “You alone can give me back something that I forfeited a long time ago. That makes you very important. That makes you mine. Do you understand?”

  Hannah slowly nodded. Her mind couldn’t fully make sense of his words, but, for some reason, her heart could. In this moment, that was all that really mattered.

  Geoffrey slid his hand from her cheek to the back of her neck. He turned her so she faced the saw horses, then kicked her feet out until they were spread the distance of the wooden legs. He pressed on her neck until she bent over at the waist. Her body was supported between the two beams, but the position left her totally exposed. With her arms behind her, there was no way she could stand up on her own.

  She heard the metal cling of his belt being undone, then the slide of leather against denim. Her breathing sped. With every passing second tension grew inside of her.

  Dear god, he was going to fuck her while she was trussed up like a sacrifice. He was going to make her his. From the moment that she'd first seen him, she'd wanted this more than anything, and now she was going to have him. Her pussy flooded at the very thought of it.

  A rustle of fabric was her only warning that he had pulled his cock free. He pushed inside her with a single thrust. She was wet enough to accommodate him, but just barely. The walls of her pussy stretched tight around him, clinging to him as he pulled out and thrust again.

  She felt every inch of him. The fire inside of her grew hotter with each stroke. The feel of him was too strong. Pleasure threatened to overwhelm her. Hannah didn’t think she could handle it. It would rip her apart. She was certain of it.

  Hannah wiggled her hips, trying to find an angle that wasn’t as brutal on her clit, but Geoffrey allowed her no quarter. He wrapped his hand around the back of her neck and held her still.

  He increased his tempo, pounding into her with an intensity that bordered on savage. There was no reason now. No thinking, just pleasure. And when Hannah finally succumbed to the climax building within her, she didn’t just break; she shattered.

  She came again and again, becoming wetter and wetter until she gushed against him. She didn't even have the presence of mind for humiliation. The only sensations were the ones he allowed her.

  Everything seemed far away, as if she was floating through a thick fog. Hannah barely heard his groans as her body went slack against the rough wood boards beneath her.

  She was sweeter than Geoffrey could have ever imagined. The taste of her mouth, the tight feel of her around his cock, the sound of her ecstasy—this was what he had waited a dozen lifetimes for. It had been worth every second of sacrifice.

  Nothing would have been easier than to let himself go the moment he'd buried his cock inside her. Heaven knew, he could have done it. He'd felt the sweet promise of release beckoning him as he’d entered her, but he'd held back, promising that he would wait until he'd heard the cry of her breaking. Then once more. And another after that.

  There was something addictive about her. Something that made him hold back from a thousand years of denied release just to feel the shudder of her cunt around him as she came.

  He'd been with countless women, felt them, watched them, but Ashira had been right about this one. She was different. It was as if she was made to fit around him, made to take him hard and fast. She reveled in the feel of him as much as he reveled in her.

  A feeling of victory had filled him as she’d sagged against the boards that held her up. Hannah Jacobsen might not fully realize what she was or what she meant to him. But she would. He would spend the rest of his life helping her understand just how special she was if he had to.

  All of Geoffrey’s muscles tightened as he pounded into her. He was close, so very close. Everything in him readied, as he felt the promise of life almost within his reach. It wouldn't be long now. Another few thrusts and he would feel that sensation he had almost forgotten. The vibrancy and pleasure of life.

  Another thrust. Another after that.

  His head fell back.

  Dear god, there it was. So close. So brilliant.

  Geoffrey roared as his cock swelled. He tightened his grasp on her. Violent shudders racked his body as pulse after pulse of cum shot inside her, filling her, claiming her, branding her as his own.

  Life surged back inside of him. Everything became brighter and more intense as his soul returned. His knees wobbled with a combination of exertion and relief.

  After his breath had once again steadied, he pulled her upright. Her lids hung heavy over her bright brown eyes, but the questioning look she gave him was unmistakable.

  “What just happened?” she asked.

  Geoffrey uncurled his hand from her neck and wrapped it instead around the gentle curve of her waist. He pressed his trembling lips to hers. Relief flowed through him when he found that she tasted just as sweet, if not sweeter, after as she had before.

  “It's a long story,” he said.

  “I have all night.”

  “Then I will try my best to explain.”

  Geoffrey pulled at the knots that bound her hands. A few tugs and the rope fell easily to the floor. He gathered her wrists in his hands and rubbed them. He pulled her close, warming her body.

  He took his jacket from the ledge and wrapped it around her shoulders.

  Hannah went to the window sill and sat. She turned her face out to the city and looked out on the lights. She looked back at him, and she grinned. He didn’t need to see into her mind to know that her smile was an invitation to join her.

  He didn't make her wait.

  EXCERPT: Bound By Desire

  By Rebecca Lyndon

  “Crap.” Sarah McIntire wrenched the steering wheel of her father’s Ford hard to the left. The tires skidded across the highway blacktop. That morning’s empty coffee cup flew from its perch on the wide dash and toppled onto the floorboard. Trucks this old didn’t come with cup holders.

  She barely made the turn. The tires spun loose for a split second on the private dirt drive before catching.

  She muttered a little prayer of thanks that she had decided at the last moment to take her father’s truck. If she had tried that move in her Prius, she would be at the bottom of the ravine right now.

  It had been a sentimental decision to take the old Ford. Back when she was a kid, her father had been the town’s only big animal vet, and she had gone with him on just about every call. There was still a worn spot on the passenger side where she’d sat by his side for nearly eighteen years.

  At first, it had been a matter of practicality. She was too little to stay home alone, and it was just too hard to find a sitter at a moment’s notice. But even after she was old enough to take care of herself for a few hours on her own, she’d still tagged along. Her father’s work had fascinated her. He made sick animals well. He eased their pain. Of course, it wasn’t always smooth and easy.

  It had been over a decade since she had driven this rug
ged two-lane highway. She thought that she remembered every curve and pothole. Apparently, she’d been wrong.

  She might be forgiven for not remembering every inch of the roads around here, but in Sarah’s mind the sin of missing the turn off to the Anderson Ranch was unpardonable. This was the place where her life had changed after all. This was where she had decided to follow in her father’s footsteps and study veterinary medicine. The place, like the moment, should have been permanently etched in her mind.

  Carl Anderson’s place was where she first witnessed her father put an animal down. A quarter horse had fallen on a jump and shattered a leg. Its howls of agony had almost scared her out of the barn before she’d even set foot in it. But her father had placed his big hand on her shoulder and she had gone with him. She’d watched as he put that same calming hand on the terrified beast, then he had filled his long syringe and put him out of his misery.

  Sarah had tried to be strong. She really did. But as that beautiful creature closed his eyes, and the life began to drift out of him, Sarah had started to cry. She couldn’t help it. Her lip shook and her knees wobbled. Her father had looked up. It was the understanding in his eyes that had broken her. Sarah ran out that barn like the spirit of the horse had fled right into her.

  “Nature always knows best, sweet pea,” her father had said when he’d found her weeping at the end of the Anderson’s half mile drive. “All we can do is all we can do.”

  In that moment a strange truth had clicked in her mind. Just like life could be beautiful, it could also be horrible. In order to have the good, you had to accept the bad. But that didn’t mean that you stopped fighting for the wonderful. At the age of eight, Sarah had found her calling and her father had found an assistant.

  Of course, she hadn’t followed her father’s path step for step. By the time she graduated high school, she couldn’t imagine living her life in a small town where nothing ever happened and everything stayed the same. After she had earned her doctorate Sarah had become a professor at the same university where she had studied. Between the classes and her research she always found herself far too busy to come home for a visit.

  Sarah glanced in the rearview mirror. A trail of red dust billowed out from the tires, and hung suspended in the air. It was a familiar sight. The rust-colored clay covered everything here. It got into everything too—shoes, clothes, cars. In the ten years she’d been away she hadn’t once missed the gritty feel of it.

  So why was she now staring at it like it was a welcome banner hung out just for her? It couldn’t be that she actually missed this place. No, that was just another scrap of misplaced sentiment. Time could dull the edges of a memory, but give it another couple of days and Sarah was sure that all the reasons she had left the little mountain town of Rutledge would come roaring back—the boredom, the monotony, the tedium. By the end of the month she would be staring at the back of her father’s front door, waiting for the moment he returned so she could kiss him on the cheek, toss him his keys and race the nearly two hundred miles back home.

  Without looking, Sarah cranked up the volume on the radio. Music filled the cab, popping and fading around each turn and bend. Her father had never bothered to put a true stereo in. Like the rest of the truck, the radio worked well enough to see him through as he traveled along the Plumas County roads.

  Sarah popped the stick into neutral as she crested the hill and coasted into the gravel-lined courtyard that sprawled out before her.

  Well, maybe not everything had stayed the same.

  This wasn't the Anderson place, at least not how she remembered it. The flat aluminum-sided ranch house that had stood in the center of the lot was gone, replaced by a double story log cabin that was at least three times as large. A finely crafted porch wrapped its way around the entire building. The front of the house had grass and wildflowers blooming along the edges. A rock fountain burbled in front. Maybe the Anderson’s had come into money while she was away.

  The dust cloud caught up to her. It overtook the truck and blocked out the windows. Sarah waited for the worst of it to pass before reaching for the door handle and stepping down.

  Sarah could just make out the form of someone that had stepped in front of the Ford. Someone over six feet tall and with a chest almost as wide as her truck door—someone who most definitely was not old Carl Anderson.

  Sarah sucked in a breath. Damn. Who ever this guy was, he wasn’t from around here. She would have remembered him. Hell, if he’d been here when she had graduated high school she might have found a reason not to leave.

  The middle two buttons of his loose fitting, plaid shirt were secured but Sarah didn’t have any trouble making out the plain cotton t-shirt that was pulled taut across his chest. His brows were heavy and his eyes dark. A trace of a beard lined his jaw and framed his lush looking lips. His hair was tousled, not really short and not quite long. He didn’t look to have even a trace of the Anderson’s Scandinavian blood. If he wasn’t some distant relative, maybe he was a new hand around here.

  By the way he was frowning at her, she was no doubt making an idiot of herself staring at him.

  Sarah leaned back into the truck and took her time grabbing her bag. She attempted to regain some of her composure. When she emerged, her best smile was firmly in place.

  The gorgeous stranger obviously wasn’t impressed by her show of professionalism. His frown had turned to a full-on scowl.

  “Where’s Henry?” he asked. He had a drawl—a long sexy one. Louisiana, if she had to guess.

  “He's in Florida.” And with any luck her father would return covered with mosquito bites and a sun burn that would dry out any further ideas he had about retiring to a beachfront condo and guilting his only daughter into replacing him at his practice.

  “And who are you?” he demanded, as though he didn't have the time to be bothered with her.

  “Dr. Sarah McIntire.” She put out her hand. He looked at it, but didn't take it. Sarah could practically feel her skin begin to burn under his glare. She pulled it back and tried not to look too self-conscious as she tucked it into her pocket.

  “McIntire? You’re Henry’s daughter then.” He sounded annoyed. His jaw tightened as he looked her up and down.

  Sarah gave a tight nod. She couldn’t tell if it was the thought of a female vet or just the change in routine that irritated him. She didn’t really care. She was here on a call, and that was all that mattered, not what some chauvinist ranch hand thought of her. It didn’t matter how hot he was.

  “And you are?” she asked when his rude silence had stretched on for too long.

  “Grant LaCroix.”

  “Is Carl around?”

  “Carl Anderson died two years ago,” he said.

  “Oh.” Sarah’s heart fell a little in her chest. The news shouldn’t have been so surprising. Carl Anderson had been an old man with a couple dozen great-grandchildren when she’d left town ten years ago. “I’m so sorry.”

  “There’s no need for your sympathy. I’m just the one who bought the place.”

  Sarah’s spine stiffened. “Well then, it appears that I’m here to look after your foaling mare.”

  He gave the horizon one last hard look before nodding. He bit into his lip as though the idea pained him. “The stables are this way. Follow me.”

  She strode past him before he had a chance to turn around. “I remember the way.”

  At least she had thought she did. Sarah rounded the house to find the old barn she recalled so vividly from her childhood gone. In its place stood a long modern stable.

  Mr. LaCroix might not have come to Plumas County with much in the way of manners, but it appeared that he had brought along more than enough money to make up for it.

  Sarah was a few steps from the entrance when she heard a loud, shrill whinny. All of her healing instincts rushed to the surface at the sound of pain. She broke into a run and was a little surprised to find LaCroix matching her pace.

  She found the mare lying
on a pile of fresh hay in her stall. The horse lifted her head as they approached, her giant brown eyes wide with pain and panic. It was obvious that the terrified mare was already wary of strangers. As she took a step forward the mare started kicking violently. Sarah jumped back.

  LaCroix didn’t show any hesitation. He rushed in and knelt by her side. He laid a hand on her neck and brushed back her mane. The mare calmed dramatically at his touch.

  “She wasn’t like this when I called you,” he said.

  Sarah inched forward, doing what she could to avoid the mare’s powerful back legs. She knelt down in the hay and laid her hands on the mare’s distended belly. The foal was starting to show. Sarah could see two hooves and a short stretch of leg. Another contraction racked the mare’s body, but the foal didn’t budge.

  Sarah reached into her bag and snapped on a pair of long, clean gloves. She slid her fingers up the foal’s leg and felt inside. Her hand came into contact with haunches instead of a head. Damn.

  “The foal is breech, and it feels stuck. No wonder you’ve been having such a hard time, girl.” Sarah gently petted the mare, but she only tensed further. It seemed that Grant was the only one with the magic touch when it came to the skittish creature.

  Grant glanced out the window behind him at the darkening sky. “How quickly can you do this?” he asked.

  Sarah frowned and shook her head. “You must be pretty new to horse ranching, Mr. LaCroix.”

  “Been doing it my whole life,” he said. “And call me Grant.”

  “Well, then you don’t need me to tell you, Grant, that Nature runs on her own schedule, no matter how inconvenient it might be to the rest of us.”

  “I don’t need the reminder, I assure you.” It seemed that he was none to pleased with her on any level, professionally or personally. “This just needs to be done before the sun goes down.”

  “Or what? You’ll miss the first couple innings of the game? You'll live,” she said. “Besides, I’m afraid I can’t do this without you.”