Hard Hand

by Sierra Cartwright

  “Jesus, Avery. I had no idea.”

  “So, yeah. That night, behind the mask, I could be the woman I wanted to be. I needed that crutch to shut out his voice in my head. It was my first scene in a really long time.”

  He dragged the knot from his tie. “What he told you was bullshit. You’re not too much, too demanding. You’re exquisite in every way.”

  She gave a ghost of a smile as relief poured through her. “It’s going to take me some time. But if you have the patience, I want to try.”

  “Will you come to me?” He extended his hand.

  On shaky legs, she stood.

  She crossed the room to him; then he eased her into his lap, facing him with her knees on the cushions. His eyes were melted steel, offering promise and reassurance. “You’re enough. We will figure this out together.”

  Drinking in his approval, she nodded.

  “Tell me what you want.”

  “I want you to kiss me, Sir. I want to wrap my arms around your neck. I want you to be hard with me. I like it rough. I want you to put your leg between mine so I can rub my hot pussy on you. I’m desperate to come. I’ve been masturbating, but I haven’t been able to have an orgasm. And if you tell me I can’t have all of those things—any of those things—I will say yes, Sir, and be happy. Just be my Dom.”

  He put his hands on either side of her head and kissed her, long, slow, stoking embers until the flames roared into an inferno. She inhaled his spice and the freshness of honesty. His breath was warm on her face, and he moved his thigh between hers, achingly close to her pussy.

  “Are you horny for me?” His eyes narrowed, and she shuddered.

  “Yes.”

  “I want you all in, Avery. All in. First, you need to be rewarded for your honesty. Lift up your skirt.”

  Because it was so tight, it took her a few seconds to do as he instructed.

  “Ah. Panties. Just like the night at the Royal Sterling. I guessed you were the type of woman who would wear them unless your Dom instructed otherwise.”

  She met his eyes.

  “Consider yourself instructed.”

  She shivered. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Get rid of them.”

  Since that was a difficult task in her position, he helped her.

  “Now put your arms around my neck.” He dampened his finger, then glided it across her clit.

  His touch was exquisite. She wrapped her arms around him and moved in rhythm with his strokes. There was no place she would rather be.

  “I want you to be thinking…”

  “Sir?”

  “About how many stripes you’re going to get from my cane.”

  Fear, excitement, doubt, hope all surged through her. “You don’t have it.”

  “In the car, I do,” he countered. “I’m thinking three for each day you’ve been gone.”

  “That’s too many,” she protested, scared, hungry.

  “Better idea?”

  “No, Sir.”

  “Let’s go get my cane.”

  In that moment, she knew—knew—he would give her what she needed. She sighed, content, maybe for the first time ever.

  EPILOGUE

  “So…” Avery reached for her Dom’s tie and began to loosen the knot at his throat. Four months prior, she’d moved in to Cole’s beautiful house. Built on more than half an acre on a cul-de-sac up against a mountain in a gated community, it was as much a fortress as it was a place to retreat. The fenced perimeter was protected by a state-of-the-art security system designed by a Hawkeye operative in Colorado.

  Anyone approaching the fence was greeted by a rather polite British voice advising that they were trespassing and that the police had been notified. In addition, video was livestreamed to the authorities. There were other fences and tripwires, and, of course, the house itself had a secure room with numerous monitors that also could be accessed from Cole’s cell phone.

  A little at a time, he’d shared some stories from his past, and she understood his need to know what was coming before it arrived. To his credit, though, he’d realized she needed more comfort than he did. They spent most of their weekends working together to transform the six thousand square feet into a home. She’d set up a place to work, and the previous day, he’d surprised her by having several potted palms delivered for their living room.

  They’d spent considerable time discussing their relationship and expectations. And he’d decided to accept Hawkeye’s offer to run the Nevada field office. Even though she would have been okay with whatever career path Cole chose, she was thrilled that he was home almost every evening and most weekends. There were crises he didn’t talk about, and she respected that. When he returned to her, he always pulled her tight and kept her there.

  “So…?” he prompted.

  She took a breath. Each time she stated her needs, it was easier. But it was still far from natural, even though he was true to his promise and made it as easy as possible for her. “Diana and Alcott are having a play party next weekend.”

  “Are they?”

  Avery tugged the knot open and left the ends of the bloodred tie hanging down his jacket. She couldn’t get enough of him. Every day he assured her it was more than mutual. “I’d like to go, Sir.”

  A slow smile settled on his face. “Would you?”

  “I ordered a new outfit. Just in case you said yes.”

  He lifted one eyebrow in a sexy way that showed his interest and shot heat through her. That was something she adored about him. When they were together, all of his attention was devoted to her. Many nights they took a dip—naked—in the pool. Sometimes they curled up on their new couch and watched her favorite drama. At least twice a week, he spent considerable time planning a scene that shattered her, healed her. “Tell me about the new clothes.”

  “The top is called a bralette. But it’s a little more complicated than that.”

  “Lace?”

  “Leather, and it sort of looks like a harness.”

  “That may be my new favorite word.” He pulled her against him. “I’m thrilled to have people see you wearing it.” He touched her collarbone. “And of course, I will want to attach a leash to it.”

  His cock was raging hard, and she guessed what was next. Still, she waited on the command she knew was coming.

  “Drop your clothes, Avery.” His words were forged in steel, instantly dropping her into a submissive state of mind. Cole knew her sensual triggers, and his voice was the most powerful.

  He released his grip on her. In a fluid movement, she pulled her sundress up and off, then dropped it to the floor before kicking off her sandals.

  He swept his approving gaze over her. “Let me see you.”

  She drew a steadying breath, no longer from concern. He appreciated her, everything about her, even the things she considered flaws.

  Avery turned her back to him, spread her legs as wide as possible, then held her ankles.

  “So gorgeous.” He grabbed her ass cheeks and squeezed. Hard.

  His fingers dug deep enough to hurt, but she didn’t wince. Instead, she closed her eyes in submission.

  “All day, I thought about this,” he said, spreading her wide for his inspection. He skimmed his finger across her private parts, being sure she’d complied with this morning’s order to be clean-shaven.

  Not knowing what to expect was an extra bonus. At times, he wanted her natural. Once he’d directed her to be neatly trimmed. Mostly, he wanted her bare. He didn’t allow her to anticipate and in fact had chastised her for doing so. Since it had hurt to sit down after that, she’d learned her lesson.

  He was the Dom—in charge—in the best way possible. Over their months together, she’d learned to trust him. He didn’t criticize her or have mercurial moods. They’d had a few disagreements, but they’d sat together at the dining table, across from each other, taking turns talking, with no raised voices.

  Over time, trust had blossomed into the first tendrils of love. She’d passed in
fatuation, and the more powerful emotion was new and a little scary, leaving her giddy.

  “How long since you’ve tasted my belt?”

  Her world swam.

  “Answer me.” His words were soft, but his tone was not.

  She thought back. His cane, she remembered. And his hand. Even the flogger. “Too long, Sir.”

  “I agree. Let’s rectify that.” He released her. “I want you over the back of the couch.”

  Conscious of him watching her every move, she brought herself upright and walked across the room to get into the position he’d requested.

  Cole said nothing, allowing the time to drag and her tension to build.

  Something crinkled, and she turned her head to the side to see what he was doing, but he wasn’t in her range of sight. She could guess what he was doing—removing his suit coat? And his tie? Rolling up his shirtsleeves?

  Her breath whooshed out when he lifted her, tipping her forward. Frantic, she grabbed for a cushion for stability. “Sir!”

  “Much better. Don’t you agree?”

  Her feet no longer touched the stone floor, but she knew better than to argue. “Yes, Cole.” Something cold and wet pressed against her rear. She froze.

  “Clenching will make it worse, Avery.”

  Breathing deep in this position was almost impossible—especially with him doing evil things to her.

  He pressed forward. Avery’s tightest hole stretched to accommodate him, as it always did. “Urgh.” The metal snuggled in.

  “Very nice.” Cole twisted the plug around and around, driving her out of her mind. “I love having your ass stuffed full.”

  Because it heightened her arousal and because it pleased him, she liked it too.

  To warm her up, he smoothed his hands over her back and shoulders, then her buttocks, even the tops of her thighs. She allowed her body to go limp, going to a place deep inside her mind where she could push away the stresses of the world and connect with her Dom.

  The first few strokes of his belt were soft, a hint of what was to come. As the minutes drew on, he deepened the intensity.

  “Leather was made for your ass.”

  “Yes.” The word emerged as a mumble, but he understood, as he always did.

  The next stripe caught her beneath the buttocks. She yelped from the wave of pain. Within seconds, it eased off, and pleasure surged in.

  He slid his finger between her labia. “You like this.”

  Avery struggled to stay in place, but she was so aroused that she jutted herself backward, seeking more.

  He laughed, a diabolical sound, and moved his finger away from her.

  Protesting would earn her a longer spanking, so she clamped her lips together.

  “You are a quick study.” Approval laced his words, making her glad she’d remained quiet.

  He gave her ten more stripes, each one making her cry out louder. And when it was over, he helped her up.

  Overwhelmed, she slipped to her knees.

  Shocking her, he knelt too, facing her. He took her hands in his, and she met his eyes. For once, they were unreadable, their gray color lighter than normal, like liquid silver.

  “Sir?”

  “I love you, Avery.”

  His words and the pure conviction in them made her shake. A lump lodged in her throat, making it impossible to respond.

  “I’ve known it for a long time, but I didn’t think you were ready to trust the words, until now.” He continued to hold her with one hand, and he used the other to notch her chin up. His smile was tentative, and it was one of the few times she’d caught a glimpse of him without his customary alpha male confidence. It humbled her, revealed the depth of his honesty. “It’s okay if you don’t return the sentiment—”

  “I…” Desperately trying to swallow the wedge of emotion, she nodded. The tears spilled.

  With exquisite tenderness, he used his thumb to capture one, but he didn’t try to wipe them away. “I’m taking it that means you love me too?”

  The words, admission, came from deep inside her. “Oh, Cole…”

  He kissed her intimately, with domination, but also with affection. She clung to him and his strength as if she never wanted to let go. He tasted of promise. Of a hundred thousand tomorrows.

  When neither of them could breathe anymore, he ended the kiss.

  “That was…” She managed to dislodge the knot in her throat. “I love you, Cole. There’s never been anyone like you in my life.”

  “Precious, precious sub.” He grinned, a cocky tilt to his mouth. The macho Dom was once again in control. “We should order some food. You’ve got a long night ahead of you, and you’re not leaving the house for a very long time. Now that I have you naked and plugged, I plan to keep you that way.”

  Oh. “For how long?”

  “The rest of your life will do.” His eyes gleamed. “For a start.”.

  Keep reading for a sneak preview from Billionaire’s Matchmaker.

  Be sure to check out the bestselling Bonds heroes, beginning with Crave.

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  PREVIEW: BILLIONAIRE’S MATCHMAKER

  Rafe Sterling strode through the door of his downtown Houston office and into a Monday morning predawn ambush.

  To make matters worse, his shoulder hurt from where he’d landed on it during a bicycle race the previous day, he’d slept badly, and he hadn’t had a single cup of coffee.

  Three women stood with their backs to the window, a terrifying army in silk and stilettos.

  His mother, Rebecca, had her arms folded across her chest, wearing resolve like armor. His sister, Arianna, was in the middle, and she squirmed under his scrutiny. Good. At best, she was a reluctant accomplice.

  The third woman, all the way on the right, he’d never met.

  Her well-defined cheekbones were striking, and her lips were painted a wicked shade of fuck-me red. She wore her long brunette hair loose, the locks flowing around her shoulders. But it was the way she studied him, with total focus, that riveted his attention. Her eyes were a startling shade, not hazel but deeper, like gold. For a moment—a fascinating, unwanted, and mercifully brief flash of time—he imagined them swimming with tears of submission.

  He cleared his throat, and she broke their connection by glancing toward the floor.

  Fuck. Her gesture arrowed through his gut. For the first time in years—since Emma—he was captivated.

  Rafe shook his head. He had no patience for relationships, not even with a woman who wore a skirt that hugged her enticing curves.

  “Rafe, darling!” His mother broke ranks and took a couple of steps toward him.

  Galvanized, he closed his office door behind him. Better to meet the battle head-on so he could get on with his day. “Morning, ladies.”

  He crossed the room to drop an obligatory kiss on his mother’s cheek, then he noticed a pile of folders on his desk. Something to do with the visit from the unnamed woman, no doubt.

  With distrust, he flicked another glance in her direction. Who the hell was she? “To what do I owe the pleasure of your company?” Rafe eased into his leather executive chair.

  His mother took a seat across from him and skipped any further pretense of pleasantries. “You need a wife.”

  “Ah.” He slid the manila menaces to the edge of the desk and resisted—barely—the urge to knock them into the waiting trash can. “Understood. Now this is the part of the confrontation where I tell you I will find a bride when I’m damn well ready. Thank you for your time and concern.” He attempted a smile. Judging by his mother’s wince, the curl of his lips was closer to a s
narl. “I’m sure you can show yourselves out.”

  “Don’t be rude, Rafael Barron Sterling.”

  He quirked an eyebrow. His mother hadn’t used his full name since he was in college.

  “Your father is planning to marry Elizabeth.”

  Rafe opened his mouth, then closed it without speaking. He didn’t need to state the obvious. His parents were still married.

  “It’s imperative we make you the CEO of Sterling Worldwide. This madness must stop at once,” Rebecca finished.

  “Mother—”

  “He bought her a forty-thousand-dollar ring. I saw a picture of it in his email. Gaudy. He has terrible judgment and even worse taste.” She shoved the manila folders back to the center of the desk.

  Because of Theodore’s unstable behavior, his mother suspected her husband had the early stages of dementia. His physician disagreed, saying that Theodore was at an age where he’d acquired vast wealth and wanted to enjoy it. The motorcycles he couldn’t ride and the yacht that needed a crew were proof of that, as were the classic Rolls Royce, a chauffeur, a château in France, and a twenty-three-year-old mistress to enjoy it with.

  Rafe suspected that both his mother and the doctor were partially correct. Theodore had never wanted any part in Sterling Worldwide. He’d been the unexpected and much pampered late-in-life and third-born child of Barron and Penelope Sterling. His parents had believed Theodore to be nothing less than a gift from God, and they’d treated him as such, indulging his every whim, allowing him to travel the world from a young age, buying him gifts that had been denied to his siblings. He’d also bypassed the boarding schools that the other Sterling children had attended. But his parents had insisted on a college education. They’d made a sizable donation to the university’s foundation to ensure he received passing grades. Surprising everyone, including himself, he’d excelled in business school.