The Dani Collins Erotic Romance Collection: Mastering Her RolePlaying the Master

by Dani Collins

  Heat flooded into her loins and she shifted on him, unable to escape the marble length inside her.

  “Ah, it has potential, does it?” he asked.

  “No,” she claimed.

  “Yes,” he corrected against her ear. “You like the idea of being forced to enjoy yourself, don’t you? Helpless to prevent it.”

  “No,” she swore, but melted around him, pulling at the stiff length she had no choice but to accept within her.

  “What if I tied you up?” he whispered.

  “I’d scream,” she vowed, and tightened her hold around his neck, needing the press of his chest against her swollen breasts, pushing herself deep into his lap because her pussy needed more than he was giving.

  “Would you like to be disciplined? Should I use something harder that would genuinely hurt? Maybe leave a mark?”

  She stilled, thinking about it.

  “No?” he asked with a gentle kiss at her temple. “Then perhaps I would simply tighten your bonds and continue having my way with you.”

  Excitement returned in a rush and she swayed her shoulders, grazing her nipples through his chest hair. “I would fight you,” she told him.

  “I’d overpower you.” He stilled her now, so she could do nothing but clench on his cock. “I’d bind you to the bed and let another man fuck you.”

  “Would you?” She pushed back a little and he allowed it. Unable to see his expression, she waited to hear the truth in his voice.

  “I would let you think it was another man.” He stroked a hand down her throat. “If it would excite you.”

  “But it would be you.” Involuntarily, her vagina contracted, flooding with heat.

  “You like that, don’t you?” He was speaking with his accent, letting her believe it right now, and it excited her unbearably.

  “What if I brought a woman to make love to you?” he asked.

  She shook her head, but wriggled in his lap.

  He chuckled. “The idea excites, but the reality not so much? Come along, Arianne. Would it not please you to feel the softness of a woman’s skin stroking over yours?” He fluttered light fingertips down her front, blowing softly.

  Her nipples prickled and stood up.

  “Women smell good,” he coaxed, his fingers moving between their joined bodies and pushing into the humid pelt of their mingled pubic hair, avoiding her clit.

  “They aren’t as aggressive as men. Can you not feel her seducing you, Arianne? Her soft kisses? The hesitant way she tongues your mouth open?” He brought his damp finger up to part her lips into a pout, coating the inside of her bottom lip with her own flavor only faintly scented with his musk.

  “Her hair would fall across your chest.…” He tickled his fingertips outward across her collarbone and shoulders. “She would spend a long time suckling these luscious nipples, never leaving whisker burn. Licking under here…” His knuckle traced the sweat-damp crease beneath her breast. “Her soft hands, small, uncallused, would press you backward and part your thighs.”

  She tightened on him in convulsive little swallows of her pussy, her clit swelling and yearning for the feathery touch that drifted to the backs of her knees, climbed as high as her patch then edged only the pubis.

  “She would compliment you on how pretty your cunt is,” he whispered. “She would know what it wanted. Her tongue would circle and dab and push into you. She’d suck on your clit.”

  “Please,” she whispered, trying to piston herself on him.

  “Shh,” he said, stroking her hair, enfolding her quivering tension against him. “Not yet. Don’t come yet, darling. Tell me what else excites you.”

  “You. Everything you do to me.”

  “Not good enough, sweetheart. Dig deeper.”

  “It’s embarrassing,” she protested.

  “No, it’s safe, darling. We’re talking about the idea, Arianne. Not making it real.”

  She ducked her head against the heat of his chest and said, “The day you sent me for a manicure…”

  “Yes?” He tickled his fingers down her spine.

  “I wondered what it would be like to be a…hooker.”

  Inside her, Dominic’s prick throbbed.

  “That excites you?” she asked.

  “The idea of buying you as my personal sex slave? You’d better believe it excites me.” He pressed her lower back, increasing the pressure of his pubic bone against her clit. “What else?”

  “I wondered…this is more just curiosity, mind you,” she said, trying to downplay her interest, but she couldn’t stop grasping the pulsing length of him. “What does a dildo feel like?”

  He made a ragged, grunting noise and crushed her in his arms. “That depends on the size of the dildo and the orifice it penetrates,” he said through gritted teeth, shifting beneath her so his feet were more firmly planted on the floor. So he was more firmly planted in her brimming furrow. “What else?”

  “You. And me. Like this. Completely naked. Looking in each other’s eyes.”

  “No.” He tried to pull her off him, but she tightened arms and legs, clinging, forcing herself on him.

  “Yes. You want it. I can feel it. You can’t lie eith—ah, ah—er.”

  As they wrestled, him trying to escape, her maintaining a savage grip, their struggles plucked at the highly tuned nerve endings in their swollen organs.

  “No,” he said again, but rolled her beneath him on the edge of the bed and pumped hard, his cock plunging into her with rapid slaps that burned. “No, no, no!”

  And she said, “Yes, yes, yes,” as they pitched into sweaty, sticky ecstasy.

  Chapter Nine

  “This isn’t very comfortable,” Arianne said.

  Jason surveyed her in the candlelight, her hands braced on the far side of the tub, knees open and resting on the edge in front of him, her gorgeous body naked but for that blindfold she kept begging to remove.

  “You said you wanted us to be completely naked with each other,” he reminded, using the removable showerhead to spray his hand, checking the temperature. “I want you to think very hard about that.”

  “Does that mean you’re considering it?”

  He shouldn’t. He knew that much. But Arianne was fulfilling some of his most cherished fantasies, allowing him a freedom with her body that not only excited him, but sowed seeds of a possessiveness he’d never felt in his life.

  “I won’t consider it until I’m sure you’re fully aware of the consequences.”

  She gasped a little as he turned the warm water on her pussy, rinsing her dark brown curls.

  “Too hot?”

  “No, you just surprised me. What are you going to do?”

  Mark her in a small way, jealous man that he was becoming. He used his fingers rather than a cloth to manipulate her folds, unable to resist easing a finger into her slippery depths just because he could. Because, for the moment at least, this pussy and this woman belonged to him.

  “I just told you,” he answered her.

  “I don’t understand.” She arched a little. “Use your thumb on my clit.”

  “Not yet,” he said but flicked the button of gathered nerves once, just to hear her catch her breath. Damn, he wanted to go down.

  Reaching for the items he’d left behind him on the counter, he shook the can, then sprayed foam into his palm.

  “What was that?” she asked.

  “Soap,” he prevaricated, painting her triangle of hair with playful strokes, careful to avoid the sensitive membranes of her inner slit. “I’m cleaning up this dirty little puss of yours.”

  “But I like the feel of your come inside me. I like the way it smells when it’s on my skin,” she admitted in a quiet voice.

  “Do you?” He traced all the way down, coating each hair. “Lift your hips a little.”

  “Tell me what it is. It smells familiar.”

  It ought to. He’d seen it in her bathroom countless times and thought of doing this very thing. “You likely only ever use it
on your legs.”

  “Dominic! You’re not—”

  “No, no, don’t move. Stay just like that. We have to wait. It doesn’t sting or anything, does it?”

  “No. It tingles like it always does, but I don’t want—”

  “A bald pussy?”

  “Exactly. I’m going to feel stupid.”

  “Why would you feel stupid? Who is going to know but you and I?”

  “Well, no one, but still.”

  “Still what?”

  “Are you going to do it?”

  “If you want me to.”

  She made a disgruntled noise, slouching in her stretch across the tub. “I just don’t know why you would do this.”

  He set his hand on her knee, drawing circles with his thumb. “So that you will think, really think, about what it means to be naked. To look at someone and know they know every kink and bend in your sexuality, Arianne. Every time you self-pleasure, you’re going to feel how naked you are and remember what you revealed to me today. You’re going to remember that you asked me to reveal myself to you. You’re already regretting letting me do this, aren’t you?”

  “No. Maybe.”

  Her knee twitched beneath his hand as though she wanted to close her legs and stop what was happening.

  “Let me tell you something else,” he said, picking up the showerhead and easing the spray over her thighs, across her stomach so the water sluiced down. Hair fell away revealing flushed inner lips unfurled against the pale, unprotected outer lips of her labia.

  She jerked as he turned the spray to directly hit the newly exposed flesh.

  He turned off the water and draped a towel over her lap, used a light touch to pat her dry, but knew by the way her knees pulled inward that she felt the new sensitivity.

  “Exactly,” he said, drawing the towel away so he could see her in all her naked, splendid glory. “You take away barriers and you feel more vulnerable, don’t you?”

  “I’m not sure.” She shifted, reaching to feel for herself, but he caught her hand and pulled her forward, off the edge of the tub, easing her onto her back on the mat under his knees.

  “You get to enjoy this later,” he told her. “Right now it’s all mine. Here, use your hands to hold your knees up and back.”

  She made a protesting little noise but let him guide her into pinching her red nails behind her folded knees.

  “Oh, love, look at this pretty little peach. Makes me hungry for a bite. Can you bear to be this defenseless, Arianne?” He used the rough flat of his tongue to sensitize her, drawing a keening noise from her parted lips. “See? Intense, isn’t it?” He licked again, lapping with deliberate aggression, knowing by the humid release of her heady scent that she liked it, but knowing too by the jump in her stomach muscles that she wasn’t entirely comfortable.

  If she had struggled or closed her legs he would have stopped, but she only turned her head on the mat and whimpered as he took soft, wet bites and slurped her juice, gorging on the nectarine he’d made of her.

  “Dom,” she finally begged. “Please. It’s too much.”

  “But it’s done now,” he said, wanting to impress the reality on her. “We can’t go back.” And he was too engrossed to let up. He wasn’t using his fingers, wasn’t sucking her clit. He was demanding she respond to the stimulation on her outer, undefended flesh.

  His prick rose in excitement as she grew hotter and wetter, as she writhed and struggled to free her hands from the tiny prison she created with her own doubled legs.

  “My clit,” she panted. “Suck it.”

  He ignored her, diving into the tight hole that pursed and exuded remnants of their last intercourse. Swirling his tongue away from there, he used it on her as though sectioning an orange, sucking at her naked folds, making her sob.

  “Please, Dom. That feels too— I can’t—”

  Rearing up on his knees, he grasped her hips and drove his cock into her, grinding his rough pubes against her naked mound. Her shins dug into his armpits, so he kept her legs pinned. Her hands stayed in the trap of her own making.

  She cried out and struggled, but he held her just like that, thrusting in tight little pushes. “Hurt?” he asked, knowing it might.

  “No, yes, no.” She thrashed her head on the mat. “Oh, God. Stop. You have to stop.”

  “Really?” He paused, surprised because he could feel the approach of climax in her quiver.

  “No,” she moaned, and jerked, shuddering into orgasm beneath him with sudden, jagged sobs.

  * * *

  He left her alone in the bathroom because she asked him to, then paced the bedroom of the suite like an anxious bridegroom, listening at the door more than once. He dressed, pulling on the safety of his disguise because he very much feared he was going to need it when he faced her again. Then he couldn’t even bear the sight of himself when he went behind the screen to fetch her clothes.

  The sound of the door had him sidestepping out, throwing her suit from the other day across the foot of the bed and rushing to her, only to come up short when he saw the remnants of tears in her eyes.

  “Are you all right?”

  “Of course.” She swiped beneath her lower lashes and smiled, not a trying-to-be-brave smile, but a gorgeous, happy smile.

  “God, I thought I’d hurt you,” he said, relieved yet still unsettled.

  “No,” she murmured, shaking her head, pushing off the doorjamb in a drunken kind of move and standing close enough to reach out and graze fingers across the laces at his groin. “Why didn’t you finish?”

  Because he had believed he’d gone too far and it had scared the starch right out of him. Frowning with concern, he said, “You cried yesterday, too. Why?”

  She considered him, and for an intense second, he thought he’d forgotten to replace his mask or slipped up with his six-years-of-British-boarding-school accent. She seemed to look right past all of it and know him for who he was. His blood congealed in his veins.

  “Do you mean to tell me I actually have one secret you haven’t divined?” she finally asked with a hint of bemusement.

  “Don’t tease me,” he growled. “It’s important.”

  With a wry smile, she said, “Yes, it is. That’s why I’ll keep you guessing for the moment. I mean, look at me.” She scooped up her sex-messed hair, her raised arms lifting her breasts and narrowing her waist. Her feet were bare, but she’d tucked the heel of one into the arch of the other, so her one knee was turned out. As she arched, her bare pussy lips parted in a softly blown kiss. “I’m absolutely exposed to you, aren’t I?”

  Now that he knew he hadn’t hurt her, his cock returned to full, heavy readiness.

  “But you have plenty of barriers,” she murmured, her gaze climbing from the growing bulge behind his laced breeches to the chin he hid behind a blond goatee and eyes he narrowed on her from behind his mask. “I’ll make a deal with you, Dom. Tell me why you need these shields between us, and I’ll tell you why I cry when I come.” Stepping closer, she stroked light fingers along his collar, touching the cords in his neck and the fine hairs at the base of his throat. “What crooked twists in your psyche are you hiding?”

  It wasn’t the kinks he was afraid to show her, but the vulnerability of his straight, home-cooked, mashed-potato core. For all the hot, sweaty, finger-licking sex he wanted from her, he also wanted casseroles and pool races and bar-side amusements. The thought of admitting that to her scared the hell out of him.

  “I had a very nice time today, Arianne,” he said, straining to get the words out of his cowardly throat. “What time shall we meet tomorrow?”

  * * *

  Damn that man, Arianne thought good-naturedly as she made dinner for herself. He was right about one thing. Her bare pussy made her think of nothing but the sex they’d shared and how defenseless she felt laying herself open to him.

  Naked under a muslin skirt, she savored the tickle of crushed cotton grazing her ultrasensitive mound as she moved around the kitc
hen, trying to process everything she and Jason had shared today.

  He was wrong if he thought she couldn’t accept the consequences. Yes, it was almost frighteningly intense, but she was growing to appreciate the heightened sensations. She liked feeling hyperaware of her sexuality and linking those thoughts to him. Dominic.

  Jason.

  She missed Jason, she realized with a pang, which was weird, considering the kind of time they were spending together. She loved getting to know a side of him she hadn’t known existed, but she hadn’t seen hardly anything of her favorite neighbor.

  Impulsively she speed dialed his house.

  No answer. She tried his cell.

  “‘Lo.” He sounded as though she’d woken him. Perhaps he’d fallen asleep at the hotel after she’d left him.

  “I’m making that seafood fettuccini you like. Want to join me?”

  “Love to, but I’m in Denver.”

  She craned her neck at the window for signs of life at his house. “How are you in Denver?”

  “It’s this invention they call an airplane. You get on them and they fly you there.”

  “But—” They’d been together a couple of hours ago. She was supposed to meet him tomorrow after lunch. “How long are you there for?”

  “About a week.”

  She frowned, listening hard for teasing in his voice. “You’re messing with me. You never said anything about going to Denver.”

  “I haven’t seen you,” he said mildly.

  Right. Shields. His stubborn determination to keep them erected between them annoyed her, mostly because she didn’t understand why they were so important to him. He was an incredibly confident man. This shouldn’t be uncomfortable for him.

  “Do you trust me, Jason?”

  A brief pause that rang with surprise, then, “Of course.”

  “Does Dominic?”

  “You’d have to ask him.”

  She thought she just had, but okay, if that was how he wanted to play this, she’d continue the ruse. Suppressing a snort, she sipped her chilled pinot grigio then said, “I don’t think he does. I asked him to reveal himself to me today and he refused.”

  After a long second, he sighed. “And now you’re hurt. This is why—”