The Connaghers Series Boxed Set

by Joely Sue Burkhart

  The suede was butter soft and smelled so damned good. “I’ll let you do anything you want to me. I mean it. As long as whatever you use is for you and me alone.”

  “Possessive,” she drawled, dragging the straps across his chest to the other shoulder. “I like that in a sub, to a point. So we’re going to play a little game. I want you to eat your cobbler while I lightly and playfully spank your delectable ass. And when you’ve finished your dessert, I’ll untie you and you can have your wicked way with me, any way you choose. Deal?”

  “Deal,” he said immediately.

  “No worries, no hesitation?”

  “None. Not if I get to make love to you when you’re done. I’ll eat it so fast you won’t get more than a handful of strokes in.”

  “Fair warning.” Though she didn’t sound concerned or disappointed at all. “Remember you can always tell me red or blackberry and walk.”

  He waggled his eye brows, making her laugh. “And we still get sexy times?”

  “Of course. But I’d really like you to try.”

  Try? Fuck that shit. He’d conquer anything and everybody for a chance to make her smile. He leaned down, mouth hovering over the cobbler. “I should probably warn you that I was first runner up in the pie eating contest at the county fair two years in a row.”

  She pressed against the backs of his thighs, draping herself over his back so that his bound hands touched her stomach. She leaned harder against him, giving him time to adjust his stance beneath her to take her weight. Leather trailed light over his skin, her fingers over his flanks. The strokes blended together, become one. Leather slid over his dick, making him shudder.

  She let out a husky laugh that made his balls tighten. His dick twitched, already leaking. And she hadn’t even started hitting him yet.

  “I should probably warn you, too.” She shifted to his left side, pressing against him so she could whisper in his ear. “Seeing you bent over like this is putting some very dirty thoughts in my head.”

  “Yeah?” He ground out, squeezing his eyes shut as if that would stop the images from filling his head too. But it was too late. Having her against his back like that…

  She squeezed his ass, the firm grip of her hands, her strength, making his stomach quiver. Leather strands tickled the back of his legs. He couldn’t help but remember the box of pony gear. The tail. Though it wasn’t a fake tail he was thinking about inside him.

  “I’m not biting your hand or running away yet.”

  “Eat your pie, soldier boy.” Her breath hot in his ear, she gave him the first stroke of the flail. He jumped, but it didn’t hurt. He’d just forgotten about it. “But know this. Someday, this ass is going to be mine.”

  Every submissive she’d taken over the years, every scene she’d played, paled in comparison to this. Her fierce, protective soldier boy, tied up, willingly planting his face in cobbler while she spanked his ass. After giving her his vow and his name. After going to his knees. For her, and her alone.

  She wrapped her left hand around his cock and gave him another stroke from the flail, slightly harder. Nothing that would truly hurt him, or even make him flinch, for fear of hurting his stomach. Lifting his head, he breathed hard, neck corded with effort of holding back his desire.

  “Same rules as before, sugar. Don’t you dare come before that cobbler’s gone and I’m finished with you.”

  Each time he started to make a dent in the cobbler, she distracted him with a good, hard pump to his cock. Or a slightly harder stroke to his ass. His skin was starting to turn just a hint of pink. New sensations would be flaring through his skin, nerve endings more sensitive and alive than ever. He wasn’t into the pain itself, but the thought that he’d endure it… That he’d allow her to tie him up, bend him over, and stick his ass up for her to play with…

  That he’d be open to letting her peg him…

  It was almost enough to send pleasure cascading through her at the thought alone.

  Then he fucking begged, and she couldn’t find it in her stone-cold Mistress heart to refuse him.

  “Mal, please,” he forced the words out around a mouthful of berries. “I’m this close to blackberrying out just to get inside you.”

  She loosened her grip on his dick a little and glanced at the plate. “You’ve got one bite left, sugar. Surely you can manage that for me.”

  He groaned. “For you.”

  Watching him lick the plate clean, she wanted his mouth licking her as diligently. Her nipples rubbed on the linen, painfully hard. It wouldn’t take more than a few strokes to send her skyrocketing with him, which was exactly as she intended. She didn’t want him thrusting too hard, straining, for fear of injuring himself.

  “Done,” he panted, tilting his head to turn those baby blues to work for him too. “Mal, please.”

  Taking a firm grip on his cock, she put the flail down and jerked the knot loose so the could free his hands. She backed up, literally leading him by the cock, refusing to let go. Because if she did, she had a feeling he’d try to scoop her up in his arms and burst open those fragile scars. Purple juice stained his face, bits of berry globbed on his chin, but she didn’t care. She had no intention of making him wait long enough to wash his face.

  As soon as she bumped into the bed and felt the mattress against the backs of her thighs, she let go of him and started the tug the shift over her head. His hands joined in, urgent, his breathing loud. But instead of tossing the nightgown aside, he buried his face in it.

  She sat back on the mattress and scooted to make room for him. “The real thing smells better than the nightie.”

  When he threw it aside, his face was wiped clean. “I know. But I wasn’t only smelling.”

  He grabbed her knee, hauled her back closer to the edge of the bed, and quickly buried his face between her thighs. Fisting her hands in the sheets, she threw her head back and allowed the stroke of his tongue to carry her into the stratosphere. He came up onto the mattress on his knees, scooting her higher on the bed. That cut through the bliss in a hurry. She gripped his nape and scowled at him. “No lifting.”

  “Just a little.” He sank into her like he was sliding into home plate, head first, all in, and groaned, deep in his throat.

  He shook, already climaxing, and she held him close, stroking his back, her mouth at his ear, whispering nonsense. “That’s it, sugar, let go, I’ve got you. My soldier boy. My husband.”

  Breathing hard, he lay still against her a moment, and then shot up like that fake horse tail had goosed him. “Oh fuck!”

  She sat up too, her fingers immediately seeking out the wound on his stomach to make sure he wasn’t bleeding. “What? Are you hurt?”

  “Condom,” he whispered, his eyes wide. “I forgot.”

  Relieved, she tossed herself back on the bed. “No worries. I’ve been on the pill most of my adult life.”

  He stretched out beside her on his elbow. “I hear accidents can happen, though.”

  Surprised, she searched his face, trying to tell if he knew about Vicki’s news. He didn’t seem to have first-hand knowledge. “It can,” she agreed, watching his reaction. “This is something we probably should have discussed before we got married, but how do you feel about kids?”

  “Bring ‘em on. The more the merrier. Or take ‘em and leave ‘em. I don’t really care.”

  “No really. I want to know if you’re open to having kids, maybe even sooner than later. I’ve got a few years on you, you know.”

  He kissed her, evidently sensing a bit of insecurity in her words. “I honestly don’t care. I love kids, but I’ve got a new baby nephew and Amelia to horse around with already. I want you to be happy. If that means having a baby, then let’s go for it. If that means you want to spend all your days at work and nights torturing me, that’s fine too.”

  His choice of words made her laugh in protest. “I don’t want to torture you.” He flashed her that cocky-bastard grin and she amended her words, “Well, okay, just a little.�
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  “That’s what I was hoping you’d say.” He stroked her cheek, his brow drawing up with his own concern. “As long as I’m enough for you, that’s all I care about.”

  “Oh, sugar, why would you even think that? Of course you’re enough for me.”

  “I know you’ve played a lot of Mistress games, but this is all new to me. I don’t know how far you can lure me, even with blackberry cobbler.”

  She laughed and pulled him down to her, tucking his face into her neck. “I have played a lot of Mistress games, and most of the submissives I’ve played with have known exactly what they wanted and needed in the scene. I mean, if they needed punishment, they were bratty and broke the rules on purpose. If they wanted to be humiliated, they’d playact right into being ashamed and naughty. They knew what they wanted from me, and because I’m a damned fine Mistress, I made sure they got what they wanted while figuring out how to pleasure myself too.”

  He hummed out a pleased purr against her skin. “You are a mighty fine Mistress, Mal.”

  She kissed the back of his head. “But you know what I’ve learned? Those submissives were there in the scene to get what they wanted. That was their primary goal. And there’s nothing wrong with that—that’s why the clubs exist. So people can find others who share their secret needs that maybe society frowns upon. But not a single one of those submissives came to me with the sole intention of making sure I got what I wanted. Except you.”

  He lifted his head so he could scowl down at her. Sweet cocky fool. “You’re the Mistress. You’d damned well better get what you need first.”

  “Which is why you made sure I came first tonight, even though I had your cock begging for mercy.”

  “Of course.”

  “And that, soldier boy, is why I love you so much. You can protect and serve me anytime you want.”

  “Marines don’t protect and serve. That’s the police, and I’m not a cop any more.”

  “You know what I mean.”

  He rubbed his lips against hers. “I feel like I ought to be apologizing.”

  She threaded her fingers in the short hairs at his nape, giving a little bit of a tug. His nostrils flared and his cock stirred against her thigh. “Now what?”

  He grinned, sitting up enough to snag her nightgown. “I’m pretty sure I ruined your fancy Victorian nightgown.”

  Blackberry cobbler was smeared all over it. She took it from him and tossed it back on the floor. Then with a very firm hard look in her eyes, she planted her palm on his chest and pushed him toward the mattress, flat on his back. “I think I’ll have to punish you if those stains don’t come out.”

  Eyes heavy lidded, he stared up at her and without her request, slid his hands up over his head, searching for part of the bed frame to hold onto. “Yes, ma’am.”

  About the Author

  Joely Sue Burkhart has always loved heroes who hide behind a mask, the darker and more dangerous the better. Whether cool, sophisticated billionaire, brutal bloodthirsty assassin, or simply a man tortured by his own needs, they all wear masks to protect themselves. Once they finally give you a peek into the passionate, twisted secrets they’re hiding, they always fall hard and fast. Dare to look beneath the mask with delicious BDSM in a wide variety of genres with Joely on her website, www.joelysueburkhart.com.

  Wondering what’s next? Sign up for her newsletter and receive exclusive free content, including a follow-up story with Rae and Conn!

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