Love Me, Master Me (The Dungeon Fantasy Club Book 6)

by Anya Summers

  Then he left her on the couch and she whimpered at the loss of him.

  "Not to worry, love, I just need a few things."

  He strode out of sight momentarily and came back without his pants on, hefting his black goodie bag and two pillows. Seeing his erection bobbing at attention, she licked her lips. She wanted to feel him sliding inside her again.

  He chuckled darkly at her expression as he moved around her.

  "Lift your hips, love."

  She did as he asked, bringing up her bottom, and he fitted two pillows under her rear, which elevated her lower half to a thirty-degree angle. She shivered. He planned to take her rear not from behind, but from this angle? She'd never had anal this way; it had always been from behind. She panted as excitement swamped her system.

  Then Bastian withdrew a small package from his black bag, ripping it open and removing a vibrator. He withdrew two more items before he rejoined her on the couch. Her anticipation swirled in heady, rhythmic thumps as he positioned himself between her thighs. Bastian set a lube vial and condom package on her belly. Then he took the slim vibrator, running it between her folds, rubbing the smooth latex over her clit and stimulating all her nerve endings before he inserted the four-inch vibe inside her pussy.

  Her overstimulated flesh contracted around the vibrator as he switched it on, notching it up to the highest setting. The pulsing whirl sent delicious waves of ecstasy humming in her veins. She kept her eyes on Bastian as he picked up the foil package and fitted the condom over his large cock. Still on his haunches, he picked up the lube, slathering some over her back entrance with his fingers. He coated her, inserting one digit past the tight ring of muscle. Delilah breathed deeply, forcing herself to relax at the combined sensations of his finger pushing deeper inside her anus as the vibrator sent corresponding waves of pleasure through her pussy.

  When Bastian inserted a second finger, working it inside her ass, Delilah entered a new phase of ecstasy. Every part of her being seemed to ignite and spark. Desire and pleasure built as Bastian thrust his fingers in and out, preparing her for his cock. Her eyes came close to rolling back into her head when he added a third finger. She panted and tilted her hips up, granting him deeper access.

  And then he withdrew his fingers, coated his condom covered cock with more lubricant, tossing the package on the floor beside them, and fitted his head at her back entrance.

  "Look at me, Delilah."

  She raised her half closed lids. She'd been unaware she'd shut them, she was in such a haze of need. When her gaze connected with his, she groaned at the hungry expression masking his visage. He thrust his pelvis, sliding the head of his firm cock past the tight ring of muscle. His girth was so much larger than his three fingers had been; her body protested the extra expansion.

  Bastian rolled his hips, withdrawing the tip slightly before penetrating further inside. He worked his hips like that, grinding and thrusting, in and out, going a little deeper each time until he sank balls deep without any hindrances. Bastian positioned her legs so that her calves rested on his shoulders and leaned forward slightly, which pushed his member even deeper inside her back channel.

  She mewled at the intensity of it all. The feel of the vibrator buzzing in her pussy and his thick cock embedded in her ass was almost too much. She kept her gaze trained on his as he began shuttling his length in and out of her rear. It set her nerve endings on fire. Positioned as she was, with her legs hooked over his shoulders and her arms restrained above her head, Delilah could do nothing but revel in the pleasure.

  Bastian's grunts mingled with her moans as he slammed his cock in methodical thrusts, bent on drawing out the torture. She was mindless with desire. The combination spiraled her body onto a high plateau of delicious sensation where every tingle, every jolt was more intense than the last. Over and over again he thrust, his face stern as his own passion amplified with each plunge.

  Delilah's body reached, climbing toward a pinnacle she couldn't see. Bastian leaned forward, increasing the tempo of his thrusts, and she was lost. He hammered his cock in her back channel; his pounding becoming more urgent as his climax neared. Bastian's rapid-fire plunges barreled her body over the ledge.

  "Ahhh, Bastian," she screamed. Her body clamped and trembled. Her eyes rolled back in her head as a million fireworks exploded simultaneously in her system.

  Bastian strained and went rigid above her, his pelvis slamming into hers as he came.

  Delilah lost consciousness after that. Her body floated in this hazy space, like she was on one of the lazy rivers, without a care in the world. Bastian's movements, as he withdrew his member and the vibrator from her body, barely registered as she drifted.

  Chapter Eight

  Delilah whimpered at the sound of the alarm buzzing by her head. Sometime during the night, after their heated lovemaking on the couch, Bastian had transferred them into his bed, where she'd found herself turning to him again and again throughout the night. She'd lost track of the number of times they'd had sex, until they had both been too spent to do anything but sleep. It seemed throughout the night they'd both had this marathon mentality to see if it was possible to expire from too many orgasms.

  She still wasn't convinced she hadn't as she lay with his big body spooned against hers.

  Even now, after so many, her sore, chafed thighs quaked and her belly quivered. How could she want him again? His deep rumbling chuckle sounded as he turned off the alarm and nuzzled his unshaven jaw against the back of her neck. It sent a flurry of sparks resonating straight to her core. How could she want him again?

  He cupped her breasts, toying with her sore nipples that were raw from his attentions.

  "Morning," he mumbled and sucked her earlobe into his mouth, nibbling on it.

  "Morning," she said, her breath expelling in a rush as he ground his morning erection against her rear.

  Christ, the man was potent!

  One hand meandered down over her abdomen, his roughened palm igniting flames in her blood as he sank lower until his fingers strummed over the folds of her pussy. The man had magic in his hands. Those skilled digits could play her pussy with the same aplomb as a chord progression. After their night together, he knew just what strokes, what touches made her tremble and which ones made her scream as she came undone. The way his fingers moved in a syncopated rhythm against her clitoris made her moan and squirm against his cock wedged against her rear. She panted as her body coiled with need.

  She heard the rustle of a condom package being opened, then Bastian parted her thighs further, lifting one up over his leg. He shifted until the head of his cock nudged against her pussy. Delilah whimpered as he entered her with a single penetrating thrust of his pelvis. He felt so good. His thick member buried deep inside her channel. The walls of her pussy clenched around him, attempting to draw him deeper into her womb. Bastian growled in her ear as he rolled his hips, establishing a pace meant to drive her insane.

  He surrounded her with his big body, the hard ridges of his chest firm against her back. From this angle, as he held her close and pumped his cock inside her in a lazy seduction meant to drive her wild, his fingers continued stroking her clitoris like the strings of a guitar. Trapped in the confines of his arms, she arched and writhed, needing the release only he seemed capable of providing her with.

  Bastian's touch, his lovemaking, devastated her. She knew on a deep internal level that after the last two nights, she'd never be the same ever again. Delilah came, her body splintering into a million gold twinkling lights, before she was fully awake. Bastian slammed inside her quivering passage, his cock jolting, spewing his seed into the condom.

  He turned her face toward his and claimed her lips. The intensity of his kiss—the way he focused his full body on making her mindless, and ensuring she knew without a doubt that he was the one doing it—felt like he had branded her. Delilah feared the way her body responded to his but was too far gone to care at the moment. The man had one hell of a mouth on him. He broke
the kiss, caressing her face with his hand, a devilish smile hovering over his lips. His bemused expression was all satisfied male Dom.

  "Wear my cuffs tonight at the club." He rubbed his shadow beard along her jaw and she trembled. A part of her wanted those cuffs with a fierceness that stole her breath. She wanted to belong, and not just to anyone, but to him.

  Instinct and self-preservation chose that moment to rear their damn heads. It was too fast. She'd lost too much, and was nowhere near ready to commit to anyone. "No."

  He flinched slightly at her refusal before he recovered, consternation filling his gaze.

  "Why not?"

  "Because I said no," Delilah said, hoping that he would drop it.

  "But that's not a reason. Are you going to honestly tell me that nothing has changed between us?" Bastian held her face between his palms as he studied her reaction.

  "Well, no. I never said that. I just don't want to wear your cuffs." She wished like hell she could avert her eyes, so he wouldn't see the need in them that countered everything she just said. Delilah wanted that belonging, craved it like she craved air to breathe.

  Bastian's gaze hardened, no longer the playful, sexy man he was just moments before. He asked, disgruntled, "Why not? What would be so bad about wearing my cuffs?"

  "I can't. I'm sorry. I wish you'd respect my wishes on this. I don't know entirely what we are, but if there is one thing I am, it's a realist, Bastian. Can you honestly tell me whatever this," she gestured between them, "is going to continue when we go our separate ways after the wedding?"

  "I don't know, but you're not even willing to give it a chance to be something." A mask shuttered over his features, shutting her out, and Delilah felt the loss of his warmth, the loss of the potential, keenly.

  "I didn't say that. Why do we have to put a label on it? Why do I need to wear your cuffs for us to enjoy what we have right here and not try to make it something more that it's not?"

  "So you'd rather we just screw. Got it." He started to back off but her hand on his chest stopped his retreat.

  "Bastian, I'm just not ready to wear them. It has nothing to do with you at all. Please understand that my ex, he used his role as my Dom in a perverted way, not out of the love he professed, which was a lie to begin with, but as a way to control me in every way. I spent four years having him direct my every move, only to discover it had all been a lie. Only to realize the biggest thing I'd lost when I was with him had been myself. I'm sorry, I just can't. I don't know if I will ever be able to wear another Dom's cuffs."

  Feeling the shadow of her own fears and shortcomings hovering like a dark cloud, she withdrew from the bed before he could stop her. Bent on retreating to her room, Delilah moved to where she'd deposited her clothing on the coffee table and began to dress. She'd just fastened her bra and had her dress clutched in her hands when Bastian's arms slid around her middle.

  "I can wait until you're ready. I didn't mean to push. Can I ask one thing of you, though?"

  As if she could refuse him when he was being so understanding.

  "Yes."

  "Do a scene with me tonight at the club, and only me."

  Trying to lighten the mood further, she leaned into him and said, "I thought you'd never ask."

  "I have just the thing," he promised, and nibbled at her neck. "Come shower with me. I promise to wash every nook and cranny."

  "How could I refuse such a gallant offer?" How could she indeed, as he scooped her up and carried her into the bathroom where he proceeded to show her just how clean a body could get.

  *****

  Bastian's fingers strummed chords as his band did a run through of their numbers in the ballroom. They had added some covers of popular wedding songs as well, so that there were some dance numbers, some slow ballads, and just for the hell of it, they'd even tossed in the electric slide. While he played, he couldn't get the image of Delilah sprawled naked and writhing underneath him out of his brain.

  She'd been a revelation last night. Bastian couldn't recall ever indulging in one woman to the point of gorging himself on her flesh. And surprisingly enough, he wanted more. Wanted to watch her eyes glaze over as she came, feel her snug pussy clench around his cock as she screamed his name while she climaxed. He felt like the god of sex after last night.

  The perfect nature of their interlude was marred by her refusal to wear his cuffs. But somewhere between the fourth or fifth time he'd been buried balls deep inside her, he'd made the decision that she belonged to him. That he wouldn't stop until she proudly wore his cuffs. He wanted a true Dom and sub relationship with her, with all the bells and whistles. Her refusal had stung. He couldn't lie, he'd expected her to be all on board after the night they'd shared. Maybe all the fame had gone straight to his head. Both heads, actually, since he couldn't remember a woman turning him down for anything. And, in their world, him asking her to wear his cuffs was akin to giving a girl his letter jacket in high school. It was a proclamation to all the other roosters that this little chicky was spoken for. Yes, it was rather territorial and Tarzanish, but he was a guy. There was something rather elemental about staking one's claim.

  Except it was through his need, the yearning she evoked, that he'd almost misfired with her again. Although this was all new to him, these feelings she alone seemed to evoke in him, and it terrified the daylights out of him, it was no excuse for being an ass again. He knew that.

  Bastian hit the final chords on Streets of Ember, and there she was in the audience. Her practice with the orchestra players must have ended already. Lust burned its way through his stomach, clawing at him to claim her for the entire world to see. The woman was lovely in her fitted cashmere dress in a burnished copper color that reminded him of the Australian outback. It amplified her lush curves but he wanted to remove the garment, feast on the sumptuous globes of her milky white tits and sink into her softness.

  She made him homesick, which for an unwanted orphan from Australia was a unique sensation—and not for the lavish, overpriced mansion in Malibu, but for the swath of land he'd purchased Down Under. Funny, but he'd bought that plot on a whim after the band earned their first platinum album, longing for a piece of the land in the country of his birth. Except, looking at her, her killer body with her hair upswept into one of those messy topknots, staring at him like he was an edible concoction, made him want to spirit her away from the rest of the world. She created a yearning inside him to build a home on the land that was his birthright, to make something that could be handed down to future generations.

  He'd never even considered this with another woman, never felt the urge to settle down. But for the orphan boy from Perth who never thought he'd want to have any ties or family, she suddenly made him want things, reviving dreams he'd thought had died out almost three decades before.

  She clapped when their music ended, and he did a little salute.

  "Well, now aren't you a vision." Jax stood at the stairs, holding his hand out to help her up.

  Bastian couldn't help the jealousy that surged when she blushed at his buddy's words.

  "Thank you, Jax. Sorry to interrupt, but Bastian asked me to stop by and see if we could make a go of the duet."

  "You're the best interruption we've had all day, right lads?" Jax tossed her way with a flirtatious grin.

  There were grunts of ascension from the rest of the crew. The randy bastards knew she was off limits and were just trying to get a reaction out of him. They knew him better than anyone, so it wasn't a big surprise that when he'd kept missing his mark earlier, they had zeroed in on the cause of his dopey expression like hounds after a fox.

  "How did your practice go?" Bastian not so gently shoved Jax out of the way and pulled her over to center stage.

  "Great. We're ready, even if Solomon, our resident slave driver, wants another run through tomorrow. How was yours?"

  "Same. But I'm the slave driver." He gave her a look from head to toe that said he liked applying that same skill set to every facet o
f his life.

  A rosy flushed crept up her neck and she replied, "So I noticed."

  Giving her a sardonic grin, he handed her the music. When her fingers brushed against his, electricity sparked between them. She'd wear his cuffs, he'd make damn sure of it.

  "Okay, where do you want me?"

  If that just didn't make him think of a million naughty devious desires. He was in all new territory, this yearning he had to claim her as his, standing on the precipice of falling for her. If mere words made him want to unwrap her dress from her delectable body like she was a late arrival Christmas gift, there was no hope for him.

  "Here's fine." He positioned a microphone near the front of the stage about three feet from his, adjusting it down a few notches so that it fit her smaller height. Why hadn't he noticed before just how small she was? The top of her head barely reached his shoulder. Maybe it was partly due to the fact that since they'd met, they had spent more time naked and horizontal than upright.

  He tested the microphone, making sure it was turned on. Then he grabbed a stand for her to place the music on.

  She transformed under his eyes as she studied the words, humming the notes under her breath, from being his every dark fantasy to a premier performer at the top of her game. They'd done a brief overview of the song this morning after their rather lengthy shower.

  "Ready?" He quirked a brow as he settled his acoustic guitar over his shoulder.

  She nodded.

  Bastian signaled Eric, who counted out four beats with his drumsticks before beginning the slow, steady beat. Lachlan had moved from the synthesized keyboard to the baby grand. The rich sound as Lachlan caressed the notes made Bastian smile. And then he strummed his fingers over his strings.

  He started singing, his gaze rapt on her for any changes.

  "Stroke of midnight just a chance

  Strangers meeting love at last

  With a simple look at you I finally knew

  You were the missing piece of my soul."