“When you come, I want it on my fingers. I want it on my skin. I want to taste it after I’m done fucking your ass.” His guttural tone only made her wetter.
True to his word, he filled her cunt with three fingers, and in time with thrusting inside her ass, he worked her hard. Pain, pleasure, and need blurred together.
His thrusts became less controlled, and his thumb pressed on her clit. “Come now. Give me that sweet honey.”
Before he was finished with the sentence, she let the tidal wave roll over her. All sense of reality left. There was no pain, no anger, no responsibility. There was only the erotic pressure on his body on hers, his firm hands that held her steady. Everything narrowed to him. When he jerked and released hot cum into the condom, the sensation sent her into another orgasm.
Her scream was echoed by his shout, and she would have collapsed if he hadn’t been right there to catch her. Her heart raced, and she gasped to try and breathe.
He nipped the skin at the back of her neck and slowly slid his fingers out of her pussy. When he rested his chin on her shoulder and licked his fingers, she trembled with desire. “You taste so good.”
Gently, he eased away from her, and she was shocked when he licked her ass, a soothing sensation that almost made her cry. His hands caressed the backs of her thighs, the sore flesh of her butt and her lower back. He removed the condom, and she couldn’t help the hungry sound she made, wanting him in her mouth.
When he rose, he helped her stand with him and then moved to the chair. He folded her in his lap, and she tucked her head on his shoulder. She couldn’t help the shuddering, contented sigh that escaped her lips as she relaxed, a rare thing for her.
She floated, nameless, boneless. Thoughts didn’t intrude or interrupt her moment of pure nothingness. For the first time in her life, she could just be.
Chapter Six
The woman was addictive. It was late by the time he let her sleep. He’d seen submissives drop into sub space before, but Nell stayed there for hours. When he’d reminded her about her safe word in the middle of their last session, she’d gazed at him blankly for a full, agonizing minute before she nodded and repeated the word she needed to know to stop the play.
After that, he’d slowed it down, brought her to one last orgasm, and let her sleep.
His mind spun, and he eased out of the rumpled bed where they’d spent the last few hours. A shower would help him think. Yet the hot spray of the water and the routine actions of personal hygiene didn’t clarify the muddle in his gut.
The last time he’d gotten this involved, he’d paid an extremely high price. He’d never been in a relationship that wasn’t regulated by the rules of some kind of contract, and his last serious one had been no different.
It was impossible not to make comparisons. Nell had little to no experience with the D/s world. Laura had been a submissive for years. Nell was thirty, younger than he was, and independent. Laura had been older than Mark and rather helpless.
Their relationship had begun when they met at a BDSM meeting for singles, but Mark had never had the overwhelming desire to possess Laura the way he wanted to possess Nell. When other submissives had accepted his dominance, there was only the mutual pleasure between them. Somehow, Mark had a deeper, more primal response to Nell. Her passion and her openness were traits that drew him like a bear to honey. He knew the dangers of opening up to anyone, even someone he cared about.
It was Laura’s insensitivity that had caused Mark to close off, to develop safeguards with any woman he wanted to have sex with. She was incapable of keeping any secrets, and Mark was eternally grateful she had known very few of his. Despite a nondisclosure agreement he’d required as part of their contract, she’d revealed their personal relationship to outsiders. It had taken money, persuasion, and legal threats to shut down a nasty story in the papers.
That had been four years ago, and he had learned a hard lesson. He had studied Nell before he made any move.
Since Laura, Mark only had relationships within the context of a D/s contract with women he had vetted himself. He kept women happy with fantastic sex and domination. The only thing he demanded was privacy. It was easy to keep his distance, protect his feelings, keep it light and easy.
Was it the magic of Vegas? The gambler spirit that had to imbibe every square inch of this place must have made him foolish. Because even as he was rinsing himself off and grabbing a towel, he was considering a risky move. He wanted to tell her, to explain why he was the way he was. To let her know his intimate fear.
The women he’d been with in the last four years knew next to nothing about him. They were not women he worked with, and they weren’t women he considered partners. Nell was different. That prospect terrified him.
It wasn’t like this was one of his elaborate business ventures. She was a woman he wanted as a submissive. And a damn good secretary.
He met his own gaze as he wiped the steamed-up mirror. Liar. It should be that simple, but it wasn’t. He would have to be much more cautious or risk getting hurt again. That was not going to happen. He’d seen what pain did to people in love. His parents had degenerated into quiet strangers, one buried under the weight of failure and the other escaping with pills and doctors.
No matter how tempting and sweet Anelda Armstrong might be, he wasn’t going down that road. Ever.
That thought was still resounding in his head when he tried to cross through the bedroom to go to the living room. As if the entire lecture to himself had been for nothing, he approached the woman asleep under the twisted covers and proceeded to straighten them, to tuck her in. Then finally he gave up and crawled in with her, pulling her into his arms and covering them both.
Even though he worried that his heart was in grave danger, even though he knew this woman could destroy him, the feel of her warm breath on his skin soothed him, and he fell fast asleep.
* * * *
Warm lips closed around Mark’s cock, and he didn’t want to open his eyes in case it was a dream. No, it was Anelda, her mouth closed around his dick and her hand squeezing his balls. Fuck, it was good. He curled his hands around her head and thrust up, hitting the back of her throat. She moaned and sucked until he was sure he was going to come.
“Anelda, I don’t want to come in your mouth,” he stated sternly.
She groaned in protest when he gripped her hair and pulled her away. Her eyes were sleepy, half-lidded, filled with need.
“Get on top of me,” he ordered. “Use those talented fingers to put a condom on me and get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait.”
Scrambling, she ripped open one of the condoms he’d stashed beside the bed and slid it over his hard length. He gritted his teeth against the erotic sensation of her fingers.
Then she straddled him and eased his dick to the entrance of her hot pussy. The warm, waiting feel of her made his heart race faster and his cock throb. When she sighed and rested her hands on his chest, his stomach clenched. There was nothing better than this.
When she tried to move, he held her still. She attempted to shift, but he slapped her ass with a sharp smack. “Hold still. Don’t move. Obey me.”
He cupped her tits, his fingers exploring the texture of her nipples and the fullness of her breasts. She trembled and shook as he stayed buried inside her, his dick filling her completely. He moved his hands over her skin, needing to touch every inch of her. He wanted to brand her as his.
She obeyed him, remaining still, her body a quivering mass of tight muscles trying to stay in place.
“Bend down,” he said and captured a nipple in his mouth as she leaned toward him. She gasped and arched, just the small movement squeezing his cock. She was like deep, rich wine, heady and warm. She went to his head and made him drunk.
With her flesh in his mouth and his dick inside her, he wrapped one arm around her waist and clamped down, driving himself deeper. She screamed and twisted, her orgasm squeezing him until he couldn’t stand any more.
Frantically, he thrust inside her, but it wasn’t enough. In a move that only worked because his brain wasn’t in charge, Mark rolled her onto her back and began to pound her flesh with his.
She thrashed beneath him and dug her fingernails into his back. He growled as she came again, the keening sound she made ringing in his ears. He gripped her hair and held her head so he could take possession of the sweet mouth that had started that morning insanity.
He’d lost his mind. This wasn’t fucking. It wasn’t domination and submission. It was passion, desire, things that were complicated and messy. And he didn’t fucking care.
She scratched his back as she convulsed around his cock again, and he couldn’t hold back. His release exploded, his heart pounded, his shout and her scream muffled by their fused mouths.
Her tears wet his cheeks as well as hers. The only time she’d let tears fall was when she’d been experiencing pain, yet he didn’t think that was the case this time. He broke the kiss but only to catch his breath and dive in to kiss her more. He softened his touch, still dragging his cock in and out of her hot channel, reveling in the aftershocks that made her body shake.
“You came without permission, Anelda,” he whispered softly.
“Yes, Sir. I did.” She met his gaze. “Will you punish me? Please?”
It was at that moment that Mark realized he was completely gone over Anelda Armstrong.
* * * *
“Damn it. I want to take it.” Nell was pissed. She’d always fantasized about a cane and floggers, but the reality was frustrating.
After great morning sex, the rest of the day was spent discovering more about this strange man who was her new boss and her Dominant.
“Knowing your limitations is a gift,” he said calmly as he stroked her sore ass. She was facedown on the couch on his instructions when the caning ended before it began.
“I feel like a wimp,” she complained. It was a letdown to find out she couldn’t take the cane more than twice before she screamed salmon.
“You’re not a wimp,” he said, amusement in his voice. “Some things you have to work up to.”
She squirmed as his hand touched a sensitive spot on her butt. “So you said, Sir.”
He’d asked her what she’d fantasized about and told her the cane was too harsh, but she’d been determined to try. They’d talked about a lot of things like movies and music, not just sex. It was Sunday evening, and their plane was scheduled to leave early in the morning.
What would things be like after that? She was in uncharted territory. Work and her personal life had always been separate and unconnected. Now, they seemed bound together in a tangled mess. “I’m worried about tomorrow, Sir,” she said.
“Why?”
“I know what to do as a secretary,” she answered. “You’ve taught me the basics to be a submissive. I don’t have a clue how I’ll do both.” She sighed. “This doesn’t exactly encourage clear thinking.”
He chuckled, and she smiled at the sound. Who would have guessed that the CEO of ConFed had a warm sense of humor?
“On the contrary, Ms. Armstrong. To avoid punishment takes clear thinking.” His tone was filled with amusement.
“That’s assuming I want to avoid punishment, Sir,” she quipped and was rewarded with his laughter.
She turned around, ignoring her sore butt, wanting to see his face when he laughed. It took her breath away. His brown eyes, always so sad and serious, were twinkling and happy. His face was relaxed, his angled features less sharp as if his smile rounded the edges. He was naked, his chest warm to her touch, and his hands were gentle as he stroked her upper arms.
He lifted his eyebrows. “Something on your mind?”
“I like it when you smile. I want to make you smile more.” She held his gaze, and his smile faded, replaced by something that wasn’t sad or tense, but the twinkle was still there.
“You make me smile all the time.” He cupped her chin and pressed a butterfly kiss to her mouth. “Just by breathing.”
He was going to back away, but she wrapped her arms around his neck. She sat up and kissed him, wanting to please him, wanting all those stupid little things that seemed impossible to have with someone she’d known for less than forty-eight hours.
Maybe it was Vegas, filled with quick marriages and easy commitment, that made her want more from a man who had her under a completely different kind of contract.
She had to stop romanticizing this. He wanted a submissive. He wanted a secretary. Neither of those said girlfriend.
He shook his head and tapped her nose with his forefinger. “Ah, that brain of yours. Always thinking.” He stroked her hair and brushed some strands away from her face. “Don’t worry so much. We’ll figure it all out.”
She nodded, believing him. He was so reassuring, so solid. When had anyone been dependable for her? She loved her parents, but they were flighty and impulsive like the rest of her family. She’d been the first one to have a retirement plan, a stable investment account, financial stability.
Any time she’d been impulsive in the past, she’d regretted it. But as she rested her head on Mark Conner’s shoulder, she realized that whatever happened, she wasn’t going to regret this. Even if he broke her heart.
And that looked more likely with every passing minute.
Chapter Seven
The airport was relatively quiet since the crush usually descended on the weekends. Nell glanced around and wondered about her two friends. Had they gone home on their scheduled flight? She’d cancelled her seat on Mark’s order. She’d texted Tori Saturday night and Sunday afternoon.
It seemed odd that her friend, normally one of the nosiest people she knew, seemed uninterested in Nell’s stay with the new boss. Tori’s response to the texts had been the same both times: Okay.
Weird.
Nell hadn’t heard from Gina at all.
“I’ll go check on the plane,” Mark said. “I’ll be right back.”
“I’ll be here.”
It was a distinct pleasure to watch him stride down the corridor to the private plane area. He had a fantastic ass, and she appreciated it…aesthetically, of course.
“Now that’s a smile of someone who had a Vegas weekend.”
Nell whirled around and narrowed her eyes. What the hell was Pete doing here? “I worked all weekend,” she said tightly and raised her eyebrows. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Working?” Pete inquired. Shit. Pete Dawson was a reporter, a contact in the business section of the Los Angeles Times. She’d passed on information to him and set up interviews, the last one a desperate attempt by her company to stay in business and resist the ConFed takeover.
“What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly, ignoring his ambiguous question.
“Someone told me that the CEO of ConFed had a private plane here.” His blue eyes were sharp and assessing. “You should know. You work for ConFed now, right?”
“Just because I work for the company doesn’t mean I get to be in such rarified circles,” she said evasively.
“Oh, come on, Nell. You know where all the bodies are buried.” He leaned closer, and she forced herself not to flinch.
“I’m afraid you overestimate me.” She gave him a steady look.
Pete cocked his head to the side. “There’s a lot more going on with this little takeover than the usual ConFed raid. A lot of money has gone unaccounted for.”
Nell froze and tried to keep her face unreadable. Poker. They were playing poker. Who the hell had given Pete this information?
“I’m just the human resources girl, Pete. Sorry.”
He studied her for a moment. “Make sure you keep your nose to the grindstone, Nell. I would hate to see it get in the wrong business.”
What did that mean? She cleared her throat and smiled. “Nice to see you, Pete. Good luck.”
She moved away quickly. The last thing she wanted was to introduce a business reporter to Mark Conners. It was
clear that Mark’s early experience with the media had been traumatic and ugly. He kept his identity a secret and valued his privacy. Nell wasn’t going to risk exposing him.
She headed in the same direction Mark had gone and put distance between the reporter and herself. She glanced over her shoulder and plowed right into Mark coming back for her.
“Oooph.” She staggered, and her foot slipped out from under her. She would have landed in an undignified heap if Mark hadn’t caught her.
“Gotcha.” He smiled at her, and the flash from a camera lit up his face.
She whirled around to see Pete give her the thumbs-up and disappear. “Damn him,” she muttered.
“Who was that?” Mark’s tone was cold.
Her heart pounded, and she turned to face him. “I’ll take care of it.”
“Anelda,” he said in a warning tone.
She sighed. “His name is Pete Dawson. I know him. I can get the picture back.”
Mark frowned but took her luggage and led her to the private plane. Nell followed him and tried not to worry. Pete didn’t know who Mark was and had no idea if this was her new boss or some stranger. She would get the picture back.
The airplane was private but small, which was a little nerve-racking for Nell. She headed for one of the six seats and started to buckle herself in, but Mark called her. “We aren’t taking off for another twenty minutes. Come here.”
He had taken a seat toward the back, and when she came close enough, he gripped her wrist and pulled her into his lap. “I want you to get on your knees beside my seat, head bowed, eyes down, hands behind your back.”
She swallowed and bent her knees. The aisle of the plane’s interior was carpeted with a scratchy material that scraped her skin, keeping the fact that she was kneeling at the forefront of her mind. Mark had said they would go to the office from the airport, so she was dressed for work. A black pencil skirt, a loose, collared white blouse, and her black pumps was her typical attire. She’d worn her hair in a severe French braid to keep it contained for the trip.
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