She did, tipping her hips so her butt raised high and her pussy opened to expose everything.
His breathing came fast. “Get up on your knees.”
Slowly she bent both her knees, pulling them closer to her until her thighs were vertical. The position exposed her even more, her legs spread, her hands locked. They were so close to the good part now, her body vibrated, waiting for his next command, his next touch.
“Tell me what you like, Macy.”
She knew the standard answer Doms liked to hear. He may not be that far advanced, though. Maybe he was honestly asking her what she’d like him to do to her. “I’d like to feel the flogger—”
The sting of the rubber lashes across her upper thigh surprised her, sending torrents of desire shooting through her cunt and pulsing into her breasts.
“Tell me what you like, Macy,” he repeated.
He did know what he was doing. “I like whatever pleases you.”
“Mmm hmm. You know what pleases me?”
“Yes.” She tensed, waiting for the next sting.
It came, across her butt cheek. The stinging warmed her skin, followed by flares of lust blazing from her ass to her pussy.
Another lash, then a dozen more, each of them sending naughty spikes deep into her core. It had never been like this. She’d never enjoyed the level of pleasure she felt with Trace. Their emotional attachment enhanced the physical response. She abandoned herself, trusted him to give her everything, body and soul.
His breath panted from his lungs. He had to desire her as much as she wanted him.
Something touched her inner thigh. Cool, like leather. The riding crop? Yes, she wanted to feel the sting. She made a tiny whimper, and whispered, “Please?”
With a groan, he drew back and brought the whip down on her right cheek, then her left, then softer on each of her thighs, but still with a sting.
The burn lasted just seconds but gave her a new sensation, one she’d never known. Throbbing pulses of carnal need converged in her core, and her pussy lips swelled and tingled.
“No,” he groaned. “You’re not submissive enough to deserve the crop.” The sound of the flogger hitting flesh made her hold her breath, but he walked to the side of the bed, slapping the rubber against his palm. “Do you even deserve more flogging?”
From where she lay on the bed, with her head turned toward the window, she couldn’t see him. Not daring to turn her head without permission, she said, “My pussy. Please.”
He touched the strips of the whip to her most sensitive flesh. “Has it been a bad pussy?”
She bit her lip, loving the way he stayed in character, but let her determine the severity of her discipline.
“Very bad.”
In a second, the stinging strips of rubber lashed her inner thighs and swollen lips. Her slit contracted, feral waves of decadent sensation gripped her deep inside her belly. A soft groan escaped her throat before she could stop it. The second strike came faster, tingling through her as her body slid closer to orgasm. Her hips bucked, driving her to the edge of bliss.
“You will not come without my permission,” he commanded. “Up on your hands.”
Shaking, her head spinning with the needed release, she pushed her upper body from the bed. Her breasts jiggled, sending the clamps swaying, tugging at her in waves of dark pleasure.
He stood next to her. She could see his jeans and the immense erection captured behind the denim.
“I hold the power of your orgasms.”
“Yes,” she agreed, wanting to urge him faster, but knowing the rules. Obeying them.
Trace walked to the other side of the bed and crawled to her side. On his knees, he laced a hand in her hair and turned her head. His kiss was all powerful. He took from her, teaching her, holding her captive with his mouth. His tongue flicked and tasted, twined and tangled. Abruptly, he ended the kiss and turned her head the opposite way.
“Look at yourself.”
A large mirror on his low dresser sat at the perfect angle for her to see both of them. Her body, restrained and clamped, shivered with satisfaction at the perfect vision. Her on her hands and knees with her sexy cowboy beside her, and his hand in her hair.
He slid his other hand up her thigh and she caught his reflection. Dark eyes, nostrils flared, he reminded her of a wild stallion.
His hand cupped her pussy and a jolt went through her. Her hips bucked, begging for more.
He gave her what she wanted, sliding his finger through her quivering pussy lips, over and over again, just brushing her clit.
Her frustration level rose, and as he came closer to her hood, she jerked her hips, trying to force his hand.
He spanked her, loud and stinging. “No, Macy. That’s not allowed.” He spanked her other cheek. “Do you understand?”
His refection stared at her, his hand resting on her ass. When she didn’t answer, he swung again, twice, harder, the pleasure sending powerful contractions to her belly.
“Yes, I understand,” she cried, wanting his hand back on her pussy more than she wanted to feel the exquisite sting of his palm.
Sliding his hand deep into her folds, he resumed his leisurely petting. “You’re so wet. Your honey is flowing down your legs.”
She felt it, slick and hot. She couldn't remember ever being this high. Never experienced a connection to a man that made her body vibrate, her heart sing, and her mind crave more. More of this, more of him.
He released her hair and took her breast in his hand.
The touch, the knowledge of what was coming next, nearly threw her over the edge. Her head dropped, but through her hair she watched him in the mirror.
His hand at her breast massaged, barely flicking the clamp on her nipple. On her pussy, his fingers increased speed, spreading hot, lovely tremors through her core. He traced a finger over her mound, circling, spiraling, drawing closer to her clit. He touched her aching bud, rubbing slowly, increasing the tempo and the pressure until she writhed against his finger.
When her mind clicked into orgasm, she froze, pulling herself back, remembering her role.
“May I please come?” she asked, her voice weak with the intense concentration of holding back her release.
“Good girl,” he drawled. “You may come now.” His finger on her clit moved in an amazing pattern that flung her body into orbit.
Macy squealed and let herself fly.
He removed the clamp from her breast.
The delicious pain of the blood rushing back to her nipple sent her even higher, and she shouted even as tears leaked from her eyes.
His finger on her clit doubled its pace as he removed the other clamp.
Her orgasm shot higher, blocking out everything but the touch of his finger and the throb in her nipples. She swam through foggy realms where pain and pleasure mixed to give her the perfect release.
As she sailed back to reality, she felt Trace kissing her intimately at her core, licking, nuzzling.
“Can you take more?” he asked.
Her body quivered, demanding rest, her mind blinked on and off, requesting sleep. But if this truly was her one and only chance with Trace, she wouldn’t waste a second.
“I want more, please.” Had that been too demanding? Would he punish her? When he didn't move, she pushed a little further. “I want you inside me.”
Trace jerked. Oh, shit, that was all it took. An invitation from her and his cock went from hard to painfully turgid, hot, and jumping with the need to be inside her. He should discipline her for giving him orders, but he'd been the one to step out of Dom mode, asking her if she wanted more.
He rubbed his hands over her ass cheeks, touching his hand marks, the light traces of the flogger, and the red strips from the crop. The evidence of his desire for her showing on her body, knowing she’d enjoyed it as much as he had. “Perfection. You’re so beautiful,”
He eased his palms down her soft thighs. Touched her calves, her silky skin covering defined muscles. He
slid his fingers over her feet. Later, he’d make foreplay out of rubbing them, and taking each of her pink-nailed toes into his mouth, sucking and tickling with his tongue.
“Trace.” She arched her back, giving him a view of every sexy part of her, the little rosebud of her anus, her swollen, glistening lips, and her hard clit, silently compelling him closer.
He smiled at her impatience, and, unable to resist, bent and licked her soft, pink pussy, devouring the juices that continued to flow from her slit. Running his tongue up, slowly to where her perfect rosebud tempted him. Would she like this?
His tongue tasted her skin as he pressed kisses to her ass cheeks, spiraling closer to her bud. When she didn’t draw back or call the safeword, he tasted her anal opening.
She cried out, wordless sounds, moans, her body quivering. When he licked her anus again, she rewarded him with sensual little whimpers.
In his jeans, his cock nearly exploded, wanting to be free, needing to be inside her. Anywhere inside her. Their sex play was over. He just wanted to concentrate on making love. He jumped up and removed his pants and snapped on a condom. With his cock at the opening of her hot, swollen lips, he said, “Look at us, Macy.”
His eyes locked on the reflection of hers. Her cheeks glowed pink, and her parted lips looked swollen. Macy was a woman who desperately needed another orgasm. Trace was the cowboy who was going to give it to her, and keep giving until she told him she couldn’t come any more. Watching them in the mirror, Trace held her ass cheeks, prodding the tip of his cock into her slit.
She sucked in a breath, still watching them, still as glazed with passion as he was. Trace took his cock in his hand and slid it up and down her pussy, lubricating it with her cream. He rubbed her clit, taunting the bud with the ridge at the head of his rod.
Sensual, piercing cries came from her mouth each time he dragged his head across her, and as her body shook with oncoming orgasm, he slid his shaft to the tight opening of her pussy and pushed inside.
“Oh, God,” they both cried at the same time.
She vibrated, her slit sucking him in further. She clenched her pussy around him and rolled her hips in a primitive rhythm that pulled and gripped his cock until he pistoned into her, the manic ride sending him up, higher, right on the edge.
He’d already come twice tonight. He should have some stamina, but his balls ached with the need to ejaculate immediately. As he began to thrust, he pressed his chest against her back, covering her, aligning his arms next to hers. Possessing her totally. He slid a hand to touch her clit, pinching it between his thumb and finger, playing with it, needing to hear her scream with pleasure.
She did, within seconds her back arched. Her head came up next to his as she shouted her release. Around his cock, her canal spasmed. The intense squeezing spun him into mindless carnal ecstasy, nearly making him shoot his cum. He held off, he needed this perfect moment to last.
Giving in to the temptation to mark her as his, he gently bit her shoulder, and her contractions increased in strength and frequency as she cried with renewed pleasure.
Trace had never known a woman as sexual as Macy, amazingly responsive to him, and uninhibited in bed. As interested in bondage as he was.
Her head dropped as the aftershocks of her release shuttered through her, and her arms shook. She had to be exhausted, ready to collapse. “Darlin’, put your head on the pillow.”
“No, Trace. You haven’t—”
“I will, Macy. Just let go. I can hold you.” He straightened behind her, one arm under her, holding her hips at the perfect level as he slowly rotated his hips, circling his shaft inside her, prolonging his pleasure.
She laid her head on his pillow, and a sweet desperation gripped his chest. Made him want to find a permanent place for her in his bed. In his life.
“I want to hear you scream,” she whispered.
“Aw, darlin’, I want that, too, but I need to slow myself down.” He looked at her reflection in the mirror, and winked. “I do have a reputation to uphold.”
She giggled softly and bit her lip. “I bet I can make you lose control.”
His heart pounded in his chest, wanting her to do it. Needing her to make him come. “It’s a bet.”
“Slide your cock into my ass.”
He knew he’d lost the bet the second she said it.
Her tight little hole would take him, send him soaring in seconds. He pulled his cock out of her slowly, her juices dripping from the condom. Gently, he slid two fingers inside her slit and captured her natural lubricant. Spreading it over her little rosebud, he circled her hole with his fingertips.
She made little cat-like sounds and squirmed closer to him.
Trace eased in one fingertip, stretching her. When she relaxed, he eased further in, and she opened more. She was ready.
Grabbing his cock, he touched the tip to her sweet ass then pushed, sliding in easily, just the head. His lower back seized with searing hot tightness, warning him that an orgasm was seconds away. He wanted to be inside her when it happened.
Easing in, his eyes rolled back in his head. Each inch farther inside her became mind-blowing pleasure. Tight and hot, she took him all, up to his balls.
“Good,” she murmured. “Feels good.” Their gazes caught in the mirror. She smiled. “Fuck me, cowboy.”
His balls tightened, his body convulsed. He had to last… Easing out of her, he slid back into her puckered hole, slowly burying himself to the hilt in her tight, hot ass. He repeated the intense motion, thrusting faster each time. Until his body overrode his control.
The release pumped from his balls, shooting from his rod as a jolt of pleasure swirled up his spine to his brain. His mind soared through space, while his body flared with heat each time his racing heart beat. Holding her hips in shaking hands, he drove himself into her ass hole, his balls empty, his cum spilled, but his shaft still stood hard, still needed to be inside her.
After a minute, he withdrew. He released her leg restraints and after he crashed to her side, he unlocked the handcuffs. Pulling her on top of him, he grinned. “You won the bet. Anything you want is yours. You just need to ask.” His heart gradually slowed to normal while his body tingled with a major afterglow.
She kissed his shoulder. “Anything?” Her voice purred.
He pulled a pillow under his head to look down at her, combed his fingers through her soft hair. He would give her anything. His house, his horse, his heart. “Name it.”
“Would you feed me?”
His brow lifted. “Are we talkin’ food here, or is this sexual?”
She laughed. “This time it’s food. All the sudden I’m starving.”
His stomach growled at the thought of whatever JaniceLynn left in the oven for them, which smelled pretty damn good when he was in the kitchen before. He bent to kiss her. “I’m your servant, ma’am.”
He picked up his briefs and made a quick run to the bathroom. When he emerged, she stood and he handed her his shirt.
She slid into it, smiling. Nothing in his closet had ever looked so good. No one had ever felt so good in his arms, or been as perfect in his bed. He still didn’t know what Macy was thinking. Was this his one night with her, or would there be more?
Her stomach growled again, and he bottled up his need to question her. At least until after they ate. Flinging an arm around her shoulder, he walked her down the long hallway toward the kitchen.
She glanced at the pictures in frames on the wall, and stopped, pointing at one. “It’s Silas.”
Chapter Seven
Trace flipped on the hall lights and Macy stepped closer to the photograph, inching up on her tiptoes to look into the face of the old cowboy. His shock of white hair, long mustache, and sparkling, inky-blue eyes unforgettable. Eyes so much like Trace’s, it warmed her heart.
“Yep, that’s Silas,” Trace said, standing beside her.
She smiled, wishing she’d had more time with the sweet old gentleman. A horse. Unbelievable. He'd left
her a horse.
“Sit down and you can tell me the whole story over a glass of wine.” Trace led her into the dining room and pulled out a chair for her at the big, family-size table, intimately set for two. “Red or white?” he asked, picking up her wine glass.
“Red, please.” She and Silas had shared a bottle of wine on the airplane.
Trace poured two glasses, lit the candles, sat next to Macy, and held her hand, silent, patiently waiting for her to tell the story.
She sipped her wine. “I was bumped up to first class on a flight from New York to Chicago. Silas was sitting next to me, but he never said why he was on the plane, and I didn’t want to pry.” She tipped her head, hoping Trace would fill in the details.
He sighed and his eyes clouded. “About a year ago, Silas found out he had cancer. Inoperable. While he was still in good shape, he decided to visit a few old army buddies. He had friends in Atlanta, New York, Chicago, and Santa Fe.” Trace shook his head. “Crazy old coot wanted to take the bus to save money.”
“Oh.” It came out a soft whine, but how sweet was the idea of Silas wanting to give his family as much inheritance as possible.
“So his family, which is me and a few distant cousins, chipped in and bought him first class flights.” He stared at his wine glass.
A pang of sorrow clutched at her heart. “You must have loved him a great deal,” she said softly.
“We were all each other had. He raised me after my folks died. It was hard to watch him waste away those last few months…” Trace cleared his throat, turned away, mumbling, “I’ll be right back.”
Pots and plates clicked in the kitchen, and she left him alone with his grief.
He came back carrying two plates heaped with turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, stuffing, and cranberries.
When he set the plate in front of her, she inhaled deeply, the delicious scent making her stomach rumble. “Holy Christmas, do you eat this well every day?”
He shrugged. “Special occasion. It’s not often we get a guest way out here.”
She reached over and touched his arm. “I love that I’m your special occasion.” She furrowed her brow. “And I think I know why Silas named me in his will.”
Her Cowboy Stud Page 6