Dominant Persuasions Anthology: 12 Tales of D/s, Where Mastery Meets Passion

by Anthology

  “I’m not. Like you said, I’m smart. Weren’t you the one that called the campus police? Even as I checked John’s vitals, I was well aware of what went on around me. When I lost my temper and tried to go after them, I saw who held Donnie pinned against the wall with one hand and held a phone in the other. I understood what was going on. You can’t tell me I’m brilliant one moment and treat me like a dumb blond the next.” She watched the Oh shit, I’m in trouble look cross his face and couldn’t help but glory in the small feeling of satisfaction it brought her. She leaned forward and cupped his jaw.

  When he spoke, it cooled the temper simmering in her blood. “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry.” Simple, straight to the point, and no excuses. She could deal with that.

  Fucking Beth. Little minx.

  * * *

  Fucking Max. Royce would love nothing more than to screw with his friend some more, but as he looked into Ember’s eyes, he decided he might have to buy his friend a bottle of scotch or name his and Ember’s first born after him. Maybe marriage and babies were a long way down the road, but Royce had no doubt both would happen and he couldn’t wait.

  Ember rose on her knees, laid a butterfly soft kiss on his lips and all thoughts flew out the window but one. Take her. He had a naked, sexy as hell and willing Ember Ross in his bed. He was wasting time on daydreams of the future when he should be living in the moment.

  He spoke softly against her lips. “Sub? What do you think you’re doing?” He slipped into his role as not just a Dom, but as Ember’s Dom, like it was a second skin.

  “I’m kissing my Dom. That okay with you?” She trailed light fingers down his chest and he swore. How could he argue with that? But she wasn’t in charge here. He let her in, took what she gave, and changed the tone of the kiss. He’d never been hungrier for a woman’s mouth in his life. Simple, heated, and sexy, when her tongue tangled with his, it set fire to his blood. He broke away just enough to see her eyes.

  “Like I said, we’re not going forward until we’re both on the same page. In here, in this bed or any other, I’m your Dom. I’m in control.”

  “Yes, sir.” When she whispered her instant, quiet acceptance, she sealed his fate with two little words. He took her face in his hands and held her gaze with his. First things first, he had to do away with those devious hands. Then he had to get things back on track.

  He captured the mischievous fingers drawing sensual circles on his lower abdomen and held them still. “Royce. From this point forward I want to hear my name come from your lips.”

  “Yes, Royce.” When she said his name, his cock bucked against his pants.

  “Lie back and put you arms above your head.” She did as he instructed and opened her legs. He wiped his hand over his mouth and tried to shake her grip on his lust loose. Turning his back on her, he went to his walk-in closet. He found the drawer where he kept condoms and everything else he needed.

  * * *

  Ember waited on Royce’s bed in a state of shocked bliss. She told herself that it was too early for a celebratory dance, claiming that all her dreams were fulfilled, but try telling her heart that. That all-too-important organ held more power over her life than should be allowed. It did far more than pump blood through her body.

  Improbable? Yes, definitely. Did she care? Nope.

  Sure, finding Royce after all these years and having him fit so perfectly into her life seemed too good to be true, but when her dream sat in the palm of her hand, she’d be an idiot to not grab hold and nurture it.

  A moment later, Royce walked in nude. Heavily muscled, broad-shouldered and all male, his presence filled the room. A lock of dark hair fell over his deep brown eyes, and he pushed it back with one hand. In the other, he held a length of material and a strip of condoms. His dark eyes raked over her with fevered heat.

  He stalked to the bed, determination stamped in granite across his features. Without a sound he took the ties and secured her wrists to the headboard. He trailed a fingertip down her cheek, the side of her throat and through the valley of her breasts. “Open your legs wider and keep them open. Remain silent.”

  Imagining that he would continue where they left off earlier, she happily complied. She’d do nearly anything to have him inside her body again. Already, the heavy, aching appetite returned. Arousal bloomed and spread, leaving her in a euphoric stupor.

  His finger trailed down in a feather light touch, barely grazing her skin. It skimmed down between her hips and veered down to one upper thigh. In a slow glide it moved over the sensitive skin of her inner leg. So faint, she wasn’t quite sure she could feel it, the digit drew a line up close to her sex. The sensation was equal parts erotic torture and a tickling agony. Her instincts screamed at her to close her legs and end the sweet misery.

  But that was his point and the reason he’d left her legs untied. She had nothing to brace them on. He had her right where he wanted her, a gasping, desperate mess of need. The muscles of her inner thighs twitched while she fought to obey. He traced a path down to one knee and then slowly returned, the rough pad of his finger rasping gently until it was mere inches away from her core.

  Her legs snapped shut.

  Immediately she opened them to their former position but it was too late.

  He remained silent, but she knew immediately what her punishment was. The teasing started over. With a fingertip on the inside of each exposed thigh, one trailing lazy swirls up her flesh and the other following a downward path, she fought to hold still. Languorous hunger morphed into an intense, starving need.

  Her legs twitched involuntarily.

  Royce slapped a light smack on her pussy. A streak of hot pleasure, mixed with a dash of stinging pain, burst inside her. Gulping back a cry, she held onto her wits with a tenuous grip. The burn spread into tingles of ecstasy, and she pressed her lips together to contain a moan. Her breasts throbbed until even the slightest breath amplified the sensations coursing through her body.

  Both fingers traced up and skimmed the joints where her thighs met her pussy. Soft touches lighted over her outer lips. Her hips arched, seeking more. Another light smack landed on her sex. A moan escaped.

  Another hard tap landed on her clit as she closed her eyes, fighting to regain some semblance of control. Stars burst behind her eyelids. Her composure evaporated. Every single ounce of authority belonged to Royce.

  The heat of Royce’s body blanketed her as his soft lips touched her mouth. She gasped and let him in. Their mouths merged as his heady flavor soaked into her. Saturated by him, she reveled in her submission.

  He broke away, gasping. Kissing his way from the corner of her jaw, down her neck and to her breasts, he set her world on fire. Desperate, she begged him to take her body and make it his. Nonsensical pleas filled the air as he took one breast in his mouth and the other in his palm.

  The hot suction of his mouth drew on her aching nipple. Teeth bit down and fingers tugged, all the while she begged for more. Wishing she could hold him to her, she urged him on.

  His mouth pulled away and his body backed off. She wanted to cry at the loss until she saw him roll a condom onto the hard, straining length of his cock.

  “Oh yes, Royce, please.” She begged, desperate, not caring in the least over her loss of restraint.

  He reached under one of her legs and took hold of her hip. In his other hand he held his cock to the entrance of her pussy. He rubbed the head over her clit, then slid it up and down the opening of her wet channel. She gripped the ties binding her wrists, waiting, afraid to do anything that might break the spell.

  If he didn’t take her, finish her, she didn’t think she’d survive the tempest of sensual turmoil he’d stirred in her.

  The heavy muscles in his chest heaved with each breath. His eyes glinted with the fire of dominance. Finally, when Ember didn’t think she would make it another moment, he pushed his cock inside her with slow deliberation. The ridged head rubbed over her tightened muscles, stretching her with a delicious burn. M
illimeter by millimeter, Royce took possession of her body until she couldn’t handle anymore. He stopped, drew back and plunged in again, rocking her.

  She braced herself as best as she could, waiting for the next drive, but he paused. Releasing her leg, he shifted, covering her as he reached above them. A moment later, he repositioned them and pulled back to ready for another plunge.

  He growled in her ear, “I want to feel your nails in my back. Don’t disappoint me.”

  With that he pushed into her and began fucking into her in a ruthless pace. Each thrust scraped over her hypersensitive, desperate muscles. Finally, in her erotic daze, she realized he’d freed her hands. She clutched his shoulders and knew his last order was one she’d have no trouble obeying.

  Exquisite, raw ecstasy flowed through her in a flood of overwhelming sensation. She gripped the breadth of his back and held on. Harder, faster, he rode her until she couldn’t breathe.

  Deep inside, an explosion of electric bliss ignited. Fire tore through her, lighting every cell with joy. The orgasm whipped through her, snapping her with bright ecstasy.

  Holding tight to Royce, she gulped for air as the heady pleasure swelled again.

  He pounded out a furious, crazed rhythm. His body crashed into hers, each impact, a brutal crush of flesh against flesh until impossibly, the bright storm of orgasm brewed anew.

  Never stopping, he wrapped an arm under her hips and shifted them until his cock delved even further inside, setting off another brighter, hotter eruption. Scorching ecstasy surged into and out of her as she screamed his name.

  His pace quickened, his thrusts shortened, until a harsh groan filled the air. His hips pistoned, bucking against hers as she held on and shattered into a thousand pieces. He collapsed atop her and rolled them until she lay on his chest. His heart thundered beneath her ear, a rapid, steady beat.

  He spoke to the top of her head in between deep breaths. “You hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  “My heart. It’s beating for you.” One big hand smoothed the tangle of her hair down her back. The other cupped her ass.

  Men.

  She smiled into his chest. Throwing herself into the moment, she sat on his lower belly and gripped his chin. With all the joy inside her, she smiled and kissed him until they were both breathless.

  She’d finally found her Dom.

  About Amy J. Hawthorn

  As a teen, Amy J. Hawthorn fed her reading appetite with fantasy and horror stories. Then she stumbled upon a pretty book cover—complete with a bare-chested, sword-wielding, Highlander. That Highlander and his author showed her the magic of a Happily-Ever-After.

  She has read her way through Kentucky, Arizona, Southern California, and then back home to Kentucky, where she’s living out her own Happily-Ever-After.

  amyjhawthorn.com

  Other Works by Amy J. Hawthorn

  Protecting Kate – Dark Horse Inc. Book 1

  Catching Cara – Dark Horse Inc. Book 2

  Lacey Temptations – Crave Book 1

  A Craving for Two – Crave Book 2

  Azrael’s Light – Unearth Book 1

  Sunlight’s Kiss – Unearth Book 2

  Dillon’s Gift

  Out of Order

  Bella Juarez

  Book Description

  Journalist Marianna Banta embarks on a search for a faceless drug lord who gunned down her husband, and submissive. When Marianna follows the killer’s bloody trail to Tampa, she finds herself face to face with a man who could derail her quest.

  Green Beret MSGT Lars Nielson has returned from the battlefields of the Middle East. Memories of violent, missions have taken up residence in his tortured mind, leaving him broken. He comes to Tampa on a secret quest of his own and finds a challenge. When he takes a job as a bartender at a local BDSM club, he becomes fascinated by the fine art of Shibari, and while tying the intricate knots, his troubled mind finds peace.

  When Lars and Marianna meet at her family’s BDSM club, there is an instant attraction they can’t deny. Can Lars coax a lifelong Domme into the coils of his Shibari ropes?

  1

  As Lars Nielson stepped into the jetway, a sudden clap of thunder caused him to tense and glance out the small window where big raindrops pelted thick Plexiglas. He redirected his focus and tried to shake off his constant war footing vigilance. He hadn’t flown into Afghanistan, Iraq, Pakistan or Syria. He was home, in the United States, no enemy stood waiting to fire mortar rounds or RPGs at incoming aircraft. He’d come to Tampa to see an old friend. He relaxed and breathed a sigh of relief. Someone bumped him, making him turn suddenly.

  Five-seven, one thirty, female, Caucasian… easy… just a distracted passenger.

  The woman glanced at him, irritated at the interruption, and then she backed off slightly as their eyes locked. He was doing it again, his don’t fuck with me or I’ll kill you look. A deadly stare he’d mastered that could frighten people into speaking without being prompted or move out of his path in a hurry.

  “Sorry,” the lady mumbled as she passed.

  He straightened and continued walking to the terminal. He’d never get laid again if he didn’t ease up. As he walked toward the baggage claim, the whirl of a blender as he passed a coffee bar brought back a flood of horrifying pictures he couldn’t scrub from his memory. During one of his tours in Pakistan, he’d been sent to observe an interrogation. Since the prisoner wouldn’t talk, his Pakistani counterparts decided to bring the man’s wife in and torture her while her husband was forced to watch. As the questioning escalated, the interrogators brought out a hand drill and drilled into various parts of the woman’s body while her husband looked on. Lars couldn’t get the sight of her blood or the sound of her screams out of his mind. Picking up speed, he rushed into a bathroom stall in time to throw-up.

  The violent act of vomiting seemed to wash away the memory for now. When he looked in the mirror, he noticed his pallor. He splashed some water on his face and rinsed his mouth. The cold water calmed him and helped him to get his bearings. After six tours in various theaters for Operation Enduring Freedom, each adjustment back to a normal life had gotten harder and harder. Now there were no more tours and reacclimating this time had been impossible. He talked himself through putting one foot in front of the other and getting the hell out of such a crowed, unsecured place.

  Everywhere he looked there was the potential to hide an explosive and/or sneak a weapon or bomb in or out through the doors that led out of the airport and onto the tarmac. If some jihadist Johnny decided to lay low and work as a baggage handler, he could walk through one of those doors and take out a lot of people before anyone could react to take him down. Lars considered his tactical options as he looked around. He wasn’t armed, and if a terrorist fucker knew what they were doing, a lot of people would be hurt. Still, he looked at the numerous restaurants and gift shops and considered what he could use as a weapon to take down someone trying to do innocents civilians harm.

  Baggage claim couldn’t have come into sight fast enough. By the time he’d reached it, he’d spooled himself into a paranoia that had him jumping at every out of place sound or movement. He glanced to his left and saw the doors and daylight. As he stood waiting for his duffle bag to arrive, he closed his eyes and took several deep, calming breaths. The breathing did the trick; his shoulders relaxed, and their release eased his whole body. The ringing in his ears decreased an octave at a time, and as he took another set of deep breaths, his heart rate returned to a normal pace.

  Just as he got his bearings, someone grabbed his shoulders and squeezed. Lars’ fight or flight instinct took hold, but before he reacted, he heard a familiar voice,

  “You sorry motherfucker! Why didn’t you call me to tell me you were already here?”

  “Mac…” Lars said with relief as he turned. “You seemed to find me just fine,”

  “You gave me a date, no time, no airlines. I’ve been stalking the baggage claim for the last hour. You’re a
civilian, Val; you don’t have to keep your itinerary a secret anymore.”

  Lars smiled at the use of his spec ops nickname or handle. His teammates had assigned him the handle Valkyrie. As a sniper it had been his job to watch over the battlefield and provide cover and intelligence. One of his teammates had been a philosophy major and was into Norse mythology. The Valkyrie, much like a sniper, watched over the battlefield and chose those who would live or die. The nickname matched his Norse family origins and stuck. Soon after, he’d lost his given name and came to be known has Val to his teammates.

  “My bad. Old habits are hard to break.”

  “And you don’t answer your texts.”

  “You sent me a text?” Mac dropped his head and gave Lars a silent, seriously? Digging out his phone, Lars remembered he hadn’t turned it back on when he deplaned. When the phone had logged onto the local network, the text indicator lit up a notification. In fact, Mac had blown up his phone with several messages. “What the hell? Six text messages? I’m not your fuck buddy.”

  “When you didn’t acknowledge, I started getting a little worried, like maybe you were lost.”

  “I’m not the one who used to get lost, dumb ass. Did you ever learn how to read a map?”

  “What the fuck for? I have a Garmin and Nuvi,” Mac reached beyond him and picked up the heavy duffle bag, “Come on, I’ve got your place ready.”

  “Mac, you don’t need to do this—”

  “Yes I do. Don’t worry; I have a motive. I want to talk with you about something as soon as you get settled.”

  “Why wait? Tell me now.” Lars shifted his rucksack and took his duffle from Mac.

  “Let’s go get some chow, and we’ll talk.”