The Connaghers Series Boxed Set

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  “You will if I tell you to.”

  He opened his mouth to retort, but at the steady, unflinching way she stared back at him, he must have decided not to risk it. Because as much as she wanted him between her thighs, she’d sure as hell make him wait if he thought to challenge her. His jaws clenched, muscles flinching beneath his cheek, but he didn’t say another word.

  In reward, she lay back on the pillows. “Stay exactly where you are.” When he didn’t answer or acknowledge the command, she arched a brow at him.

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  His tone was more growl than acquiescence but she’d take it. “Good boy.”

  He made another rough grumble, his upper lip curling with disgust. “I’m probably not supposed to growl either.”

  “I never said that. A sub’s sweet groans and cries of ecstasy are like music to my ears.”

  “I’m not a sub.”

  He had a very good point. While he was attracted to her and enjoyed her commands so far, that certainly didn’t mean he’d be willing or even able to fully submit to her. Some light play might be all he could deal with, and that’d disappoint the hell out of her. “We’ll see.”

  “If I’m not, you walk?”

  “When it’s not good for me, I walk. Same as you.” He didn’t like that thought at all, if the grooves deepening across his forehead were any indication. Ignoring him, she stood and headed for the closet to hang up her dress. Partly a test, because she wanted to see what he’d do. Wait and stay… or follow, even though she hadn’t given him an explicit order? Either she’d deal with, but it’d tell her a lot about his personality.

  Of course he followed as if determined to prove exactly how un-submissive he was. “It’ll be good for you, baby.”

  Without looking at him, she unzipped the dress and let it slide off her shoulders and down her back, revealing the matching golden straps of her bra. “Oh, is that so? How’d that work for you with all those other women over the past few years?”

  He made a ragged sound as if she’d punched him in the gut. Or lower.

  She had, in a way. No man liked to be reminded of a weakness, especially when it came to his performance and virility. But he needed to be reminded of exactly why he was here. What he needed from her. It wasn’t sex, exactly. No, what he needed from her was control.

  Letting the silk slide down her hips, she stepped out of the dress, making sure to bend over enough to give him a good long look at her assets. Golden lace, barely there, and certainly light enough that the dampness of her desire would be clearly visible. He made another sound, a quick gulp of air.

  Her skin tingled with the force of his gaze and her instincts told her he was going to reach out and touch her. She could almost feel the trailing of his fingers across her buttock. Or the firm grip on his hands on either hip. Exactly how he’d touch a woman. Any woman not her, not the Mistress. His Mistress. Oh, God, please, someday.

  She took a quick step into the closet and she felt the barest graze of his fingers, the breeze from his fingers sliding by. “If I have to remind you of the rules again, you’ll pay the consequences.”

  “Are you going to punish me?”

  Despite the amusement in his voice, she could hear the underlying tightness of his need. And yes, a slight tremble of anxiety. He didn’t know what the hell he was doing.

  She allowed herself a quick glance at him, drinking in his tall, lean frame propped against her closet door. Trying so hard to be casual and cool, while his eyes smoldered and his cock strained at the sash she’d tied around him. She made sure to look long and hard at his crotch, so he’d be aware of the way his body responded to her.

  “That depends,” she drawled out, slowly raising her gaze back to his. “Are you wanting me to punish you?”

  5

  The hell if he could think with his dick tied up in a bow. His fingers itched to jerk the sash off, throw her over his shoulder, and haul her off to bed. It wasn’t her threats of punishment that stilled his hand, though. It was fear that he if took charge, as usual, that the blessed erection he’d finally regained would seep away and he’d be right back at the beginning.

  With burning, desperate need—and no ability to satisfy it.

  She didn’t have to warn him that this was her game. Play by her rules, or she’d walk. And if she walked…

  “If it means you’ll take me to bed, then you can punish me any way you want.” He swallowed hard and clenched his fists, fighting down the urge to seize control of the situation. “Ma’am.”

  The slight sting to his ego was immediately salved by the heat of her glowing eyes. “Then you can go lie flat on your back in my bed and wait for me to join you.”

  Relieved, he did as she asked. No, as she told him. I’ve got to get my mind wrapped around it. She orders. I do it. Or she walks.

  “Make yourself good and comfortable,” she called after him. “You’re going to be there for awhile.”

  He ground his teeth but swallowed down the retort. Fuck waiting. Fuck her. Yeah, please, soon. Shit.

  Slamming his fist into a pillow a couple of times in a mockery of fluffing it, he lay down as ordered. Simmering hot, both his mood and his lust. It felt like he was careening down a freeway in the dark with no headlights in his first car. An old 1968 Mustang that was more rust than anything else until he could afford to fix it up piece by piece, leaking gas like a sieve. One tiny spark would have turned him into a fireball, but damned if he’d park that beast and walk or ride his bike to school.

  He lifted his head, moving the pillows until he could see her. She still puttered in her closet, hanging up the dress, putting her shoes away, stripping off her lingerie as if they were priceless artifacts, and then slowly making her way around the room picking up his clothes he’d tossed about. He hadn’t exactly been tidy and by all accounts, Mal appeared to be a neat-freak.

  I won’t leave my crap around for her to pick up again. Not happening on my watch.

  Not that she seemed to mind. In fact, she hummed softly as she walked around the room, fully aware that he tracked her every movement. He’d never known a woman so comfortable in her skin. She didn’t flaunt her body. She just owned that fine ass and sweet tits like a she was a queen and she knew it, just like she knew he was looking and getting harder by the moment. In fact, she loved every moment of his attention if the knowing smile on her lips was any indication.

  Finally, thank God, she came to the side of the bed, but instead of joining him, she rummaged around in the drawer of the nightstand. Condoms he expected. A hank of white cotton rope gave him pause. Thick enough he wouldn’t be able to snap it no matter how hard he tried.

  She gave him a wink. “In case you need some help keeping your hands where I tell you to put them.”

  His heart pounded and sweat broke out on his forehead. Anxiety? He wasn’t sure. “I don’t think I’d like being tied up.” Helpless. A spasm rocked through his body and he still didn’t know if the idea terrified him, pissed him off, or… sent him into overdrive. His dick was still hard, so he wouldn’t complain. Yet.

  She cupped his balls and he hauled in a hissing breath. Fuck, it felt like fire bloomed in his guts. “You didn’t think you’d like that big cock all tied up either, but he’s looking pretty happy.”

  Her fingers roamed higher and it was all he could do to lie there and pant and hope he didn’t come again.

  “Not too tight yet, but I’ll keep an eye on it. You ready for your orders?”

  Blinking hard, he focused on her face. “Ma’am?”

  “It’s simple, really. You know the first rule already.”

  At her lifted brow, he managed to answer, though his mouth felt like it was full of rocks. “Don’t touch you unless you say.”

  She nodded, trailing her fingers up his stomach, so light and teasing it made him hop around like a June bug on hot pavement. Then suddenly she was on top of him, settling down high on his chest, her knees planted on either side of his ribcage. His hands lifte
d reflexively, but he caught himself just in time and slammed his arms back down hard to the bed.

  But her pussy. It was right there. So close, open and glistening, her musky scent filling his nose. If a drug lord had barged in with guns blazing, Colby doubted he’d have been able to drag his gaze away in time to save them both.

  “Push your hands back a little and grip the bar of the headboard. It’ll be easier for you if you have something to hang on to.”

  It took a few moments for her words to sink in, but then he did as she suggested and wrapped his palms around the cool round metal bar.

  “You ready for the second rule?”

  He figured that she’d want him to look up at her face, some confirmation that he heard and was paying attention, but she edged closer, sliding her knees up over his biceps, giving her some leverage—but also widening up her thighs and bringing heaven closer to him. Opening his mouth, he started to lift his head and get his first taste of her, but she pressed his forehead back down. Refusing him.

  He groaned with frustration and she laughed with a husky catch in her voice. Her folds were so wet. She wanted him, even knowing his problem. Even though he might not be a submissive that suited her style of domination.

  She wants me.

  He growled and pushed his head against her fingers, but Mal was no little cream-puff girl. She rose up, putting more of her weight onto her knees, pinning his arms and his head at the same time, and he couldn’t get his mouth on her. At least not without risking banging her head on the wall or tossing her off the bed if he heaved with all his strength. He couldn’t risk hurting her.

  Somehow, when he’d imagined her thighs wrapped around his head, he hadn’t pictured it quite this way.

  “Don’t come until I tell you. That’s the second rule. Got it?”

  He nodded his head as well as he could under her hand, but that wasn’t good enough for the Mistress of Dallas.

  “Say it. Now. Out loud.”

  “I won’t,” he panted. “Come. Until you say.”

  “Good boy.” But she still didn’t let his head up. “Take all that need, all that frustration, and let it growl in your voice as you say my name.”

  “Mal.”

  Rock hard muscle beneath her, pinned, waiting for her command. Fuck. Was there any bigger turn on?

  She lifted her hand from his head and he immediately leaned up and sucked at her flesh like a starving man. Letting her head fall back, she held herself still and allowed herself to simply feel. It’d been too damned long since she’d had a man’s tongue beneath her, and she couldn’t fault his technique or his enthusiasm. He wasn’t afraid to get messy and dove right in, nose deep, tongue flattened against her, eager to explore. It was easy to come. Easy to let the pleasure pour from her lips on a deep purr of satisfaction—especially when his enthusiasm, and yeah, desperation, increased exponentially.

  He worked his face harder against her, putting those neck and shoulder muscles to good use, but he managed to keep his hands locked around the lower bar of the headboard. Even more importantly, he didn’t come. She glanced over her shoulder and checked the condition of his cock. Painfully hard, deep purplish red, still fully engaged in their play. So far so good, though she’d need to get that belt off him soon to avoid compromising blood flow.

  But first…

  With the edge of her desire knocked down a bit, it was time to play, at least a little. She shifted her weight forward, making sure he felt the force of her knees holding him down. She sat deeper on him, pushing his head back down to the pillow, both to give his neck a break, and to make him feel her dominance. The first time had been light, pleasant, fun. Immediate gratification. This time when she came, she was going to detonate his kink cherry. He’d know once and for all that he’d been well and truly dominated.

  His shoulders bucked up beneath her. Testing her strength. If she softened, he’d have his hands on her in a second, likely rolling her beneath him. Everything he’d do with a vanilla woman in the throes of ecstasy. Wrapping her hands around the bars of her bed, she bore down harder on him and began moving on top of him. Riding his face, letting his shoulders rock her. He managed to spear his tongue inside her a few strokes, until she pulled back a moment to make sure he could catch his breath. His chest heaved beneath her, every muscle and ligament standing out in stark relief beneath his taut skin. It took every ounce of his strength and determination to keep his hands where she’d told him.

  It’d be so easy for him to throw her off. Ignore her command and seize her breast in one of those powerful hands. Flip her off to the side. He could be balls-deep in a second. And yeah, she wanted that too—but in her time. Not his.

  He didn’t have to lie beneath her like this. He allowed her to have her way with every inch of his magnificent body. That, more than the friction of his whiskers against her tender skin or his tongue on her clit spiraled her lust higher. He could have refused. He could have fought. He could have denied her.

  But he didn’t. He allowed it.

  So many people thought submission made a man whipped. Weak, emasculated, humiliated. Some men definitely got off on that. But for her, the ultimate submission was exactly this. A strong, powerful man who chose to allow her full access. Who denied himself in order to please her.

  Such an incredible man.

  Shuddering, she came again, grinding her clit harder against his face, even while she managed to reach back and yank the bow loose on his cock.

  He heaved up beneath her, dislodging her back onto his chest.

  “Fuck,” he roared out, rolling his head back and forth on the pillow. “Mal, please, for Christ’s sake.”

  Panting, she worked the belt off. “What do you want, soldier boy?”

  “Let me fuck you.”

  His words sent another wave of lust thundering through her. He didn’t demand his own pleasure. He didn’t make a statement of his needs. Even with blood flooding his restricted cock, he still managed to ask, let me. Not I want.

  “Go for it, sugar.” His eyes popped open, his biceps bulging even more if that was possible. One last desperate grip on the bed in case he was mistaken. “Show me how good you can fuck. Give me all you’ve got.”

  6

  Panting, Colby flipped her on her back and rose up to his knees. Blood pounded in his skull like a jackhammer. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so painfully hard. On the verge of release, trembling with the need to sink deep inside her.

  It should have felt great, but instead, a black pit loomed deep in his belly. Dread. Fear. He’d have rather faced off against a whole squad of terrorists without a single weapon than fail her now. His fingers trembled so hard he barely managed to get the condom on, sweat burning his eyes. Any second now, the erection would fade. He’d feel this terrible, overwhelming need and be completely unable to do anything about it. This gorgeous, sexy woman would look up at him and the fire in her eyes would inevitably fade to disappointment. Pity. Maybe even ridicule. He’d seen it before. He—

  Pain cut through the vicious twirling thoughts. Sharp enough he sucked in a hard breath and bit back a yelp.

  Mal set her nails deeper into his thighs and this time he couldn’t hold back the shocked gasp. Plenty of women had scratched him before, but it’d been in the midst of mindless pleasure. Not with the calculated, deliberate intent to cause pain. It shouldn’t have surprised him, given all he knew about the Mistress of Dallas. Of course she’d like to deal pain. He’d seen the evidence. His brain just hadn’t made that connection to him. How she might use it in bed. She hadn’t brought out the whips and shit, so he’d mistakenly assumed he’d be safe.

  He’d somehow managed to forget that she was the Mistress of Dallas.

  “That’s better.” Her voice was husky, rumbling with the languorous timber of a lioness settling down to feast. “Get that dick into me and get out of your head.”

  His brain stuttered, unable to process her words. Again, he’d had plenty of women talk dirty
to him, but not with Mal’s directness. She said what she meant and meant what she said and if you hesitated even a moment in executing her command, she snapped. Not with words or anger. Oh no. This time, she leaned up enough to sink her teeth into the fleshy part of his forearm. And this was no love bite. She bit like a predator determined to bring down her kill. The kind of bite that broke her prey’s spine and sent him crumbling down on top of her. Exactly as she intended.

  Gripping skin and muscle in her jaws, she bit down harder. Bruising him, maybe even breaking the skin. It hurt enough the muscle spasmed and flinched, which only seemed to turn her on even more.

  And him, evidently, because his cock twitched and pulsed against her. Sliding in her wetness. Hungry and seeking her entrance as if it had a mind of its own. Determined to get inside her as she’d ordered. It was easy to slide into her, balls deep. No faltering. No fumbling. No frantic pumping with his own hand trying to maintain enough of an erection to penetrate. It was easy. She was easy.

  No, hard. She bit so hard. Releasing his arm and moving up to his shoulder now that she had him closer. His trapezius burned and throbbed. The side of his neck. She wouldn’t leave hickeys. She left bruised rings of teethmarks. Somehow that pushed him over the edge. He lost his mind, lost control of his body, as if everything inside him detonated without warning. He became one giant muscle quivering with effort, straining so hard that everything went black.

  It took him a few minutes to become aware. To realize he was sprawled out on top of her without any effort to spare her his weight. Sweat burned his eyes. With growing horror, he realized he’d probably come way too quickly—yet again—while sweating like a pig who’d just run a marathon. And then like a pig, he’d collapsed on top of her and smeared that sweat all over her while squishing the breath out of her.

  Yet damned if he could move. He couldn’t even seem to lift his head.

  “It’s all right,” she whispered against his ear. “You’re good. You’re safe.”