by Nadia Aidan
A storm of emotions warred inside of him, and he narrowed his eyes at her, wondering if this was another one of her manipulations, another one of her games.
“Unlike me?” he asked quietly.
“Unlike you?” She looked up. “What about you?”
His lips twisted into a cruel smile. “You were about to say he didn’t make you feel like a whore—unlike me.”
Something flashed in her eyes, something that reminded him of the Cherie he’d met eight years ago. “I wasn’t about to say that, but it is the truth. No, he didn’t make me feel like a whore, unlike you. And that’s because he was a good man, unlike you—”
Her words snapped something deep inside him, and he grabbed her by the arms, cutting her off as he dragged her up against his body. “I was a good man, before I met you!”
Her eyes dimmed, and he shoved her away unable to stand the look of pity in her eyes. He didn’t want or need her damned pity.
“Did you ever think that the reason everyone else treats you like a whore is because that’s what you are? Because that’s what you’ll always be?”
The moment the words were out of his mouth, he regretted them, even more so, when her face drained of all colour. He’d wanted to lash out at her, make her swallow her stupid pity, but he’d never expected he’d hurt her. The Cherie he’d once known had been impenetrable, tough as nails.
He called after her when she spun away from him and marched out of the room.
“Cherie—damnation!” He caught up to her just before she stormed out of his home.
“Let me go!” She struggled against him. “I’d rather go to prison than endure this—”
“Endure what? The agony of sharing my bed? You’re a madam, for Christ sakes, and yet the thought of fucking me is such a vile notion that you’d rather go to prison?”
Bitterness twisted his words. He should have let her go to prison, should have let her languish there for the rest of her life. But he couldn’t—not now. The seed had been planted, and now, he was determined to have her back in his bed, for as long as he desired her. She could wish for a prison cell all she wanted, but he was no longer prepared to let her go.
He crushed his lips to hers, dragging her back inside and slamming the door behind them.
Cherie twisted in his arms, fighting against him as much as she was fighting her own desire. Fucking him a vile notion? Never. And that was exactly the problem. With his body, Shane was going to take her very soul, every piece of her heart. She could see it in his eyes. She didn’t know if he even realised that yet, but she saw the determination etched across his face, and she fought against it, knowing that in his arms, Shane could ask for anything, everything, and she would give it. Already, she felt her will slipping, crumbling, and when she parted her lips, letting out a tiny moan, he stroked his tongue inside, his mouth fully claiming hers.
He gathered her body close as he walked her towards the bedroom from which she’d just fled, his lips never once leaving hers. His mouth against hers was skilled, seductive, and a gasp unwittingly escaped her, at the sharp pang of jealously that shot through her belly.
Shane lifted his head. “What’s wrong? Did I hurt you?”
She shook her head, her hands curling in his blond locks, dragging his face back down. She would never admit it to him, that the thought of him kissing a parade of women, making love to all those women that had come after her made her mad with jealousy. But the practiced skill with which he coaxed a moan of desire from her lips was something no man had been born with, not even the most skilled charmer. No, Shane had learned the art of seduction, just like every other man, in a woman’s bed.
His hands against her back, slowly undoing the ties of her dress, dragged her back to the present.
“Turn around,” he whispered, and she didn’t hesitate, her body shivering with need. It had been so long since a man had warmed her bed, but that wasn’t why she shivered. That wasn’t what fuelled her desire. It was Shane. Many nights, she’d wondered what type of man he’d grown into, what type of lover he would be once he’d finally shed his innocence. Tonight, she would have her answer, although in many ways she already knew. If he kissed the way he made love, then he would brand her, claim her, demand her complete and utter surrender.
Her dress pooled at her feet, and she turned to face him. Desire burned hot in his gaze, turning his blue eyes to molten silver.
With shaky hands, he reached for one strap of her chemise and pulled it down. He did the same to the other, and the flimsy garment easily slipped down the length of her body.
She heard his sharp intake of breath, and she met his gaze, the hungry look in his eyes sending wetness pooling between her thighs.
She stood before him completely naked, having foregone her more racy under things in her haste to clothe herself when he’d awoken her yesterday evening banging like a crazy fool at her front door.
She felt exposed without them, but he didn’t seem to care. He probably appreciated her naked state—less work for him.
He stripped out of his shirt, revealing the corded, defined muscles of his chest. Shane had certainly filled out in all the right places, and when he removed his jeans, her eyes widened, because she didn’t think it was possible, but Shane had filled out there, too.
“Good Lord,” she whispered in awe, his soft chuckle slowly dragging her gaze back up to his smiling face.
The last thing was his Stetson, and she bit back a smile at how he carefully placed his hat aside. Cowboys and their hats.
He turned back to face her, dragging her into his arms to once again claim her lips. He kissed her as he backed her up against the bed, following her down when she stretched out, his hard, muscled body covering hers.
She parted her thighs, and he easily settled within the circle of her legs. She held her breath when she felt the tip of his cock nudged against her dripping slit. She expected him to push inside, release his seed and be done with her for the night, but he didn’t do that.
She sucked in a breath of air when he kissed a languorous path down the length of her body, dallying to lavish hot, wet kisses against her breasts.
“I always thought you had the most beautiful breasts,” he said against her smooth flesh, his lips drawing the tight buds within his mouth. She remembered he’d been practically obsessed with her breasts back then. She’d figured it was because he probably hadn’t seen very many sets, let alone touched them. But now, she was convinced he simply enjoyed that part of a woman’s body because he’d certainly seen and touched his fair share, if the way he flicked his tongue across her tightened buds, sending pleasure shooting down her spine, was any evidence.
He bestowed a great deal of loving attention upon her breasts, before sliding lower. He dipped his head between her thighs, his warm breath fanning out to whisper across her warm cunt. She stilled in surprise, her hands gripping his head.
“What are you doing?” she panted.
He lifted his head from between her spread legs, his eyes twinkling.
“Come now, Cherie. What kind of madam are you if you don’t know what I’m doing?”
She glowered at him. “I know what you’re doing,” she snapped. “I just…I mean…why?” She started to pull away from him. “I can take care of you, if that’s what you want, but you don’t have to do this.”
His hands pressed firmly against her thighs kept her from moving, and he stared up at her, his full, sensual lips wearing a dark scowl.
“Cherie, when I want your lips wrapped around my cock, I’ll put them there. And trust me, I will—probably very soon—but right now, you are right where I want you to be.”
He moved to lower his head, but again, she stopped him, her hands tugging at his hair.
“Cherie,” he snapped impatiently, and the flashing in his eyes told her she was reaching the end of his rope with her.
“It’s just that I don’t understand. You said you wanted to use me the way I used you. You said I was your whore.” Sh
“I didn’t say you were my whore, Cherie, because you’re not. If I wanted a whore, I’d have asked you to send me one—”
“But you said you wanted to use me—”
“And I intend to, but…” he continued when she opened her mouth to cut him off again. “I have no intention of taking my pleasure and giving you none. Oh, no, Cherie, that would be too easy for you.”
His eyes turned dark and dangerous then, desire hovering within them.
“Too easy? I don’t understand.”
“You would love for me to come to your bed every night and rut atop you like some wild animal, like one of your guests. And then you could sleep good at night, knowing you were right to leave me behind, believing that I turned out to be no better than any other man, because I never cared enough to learn how to please a woman—to please you.”
“But I would never have thought that. You pleased me then,” she said softly, and something flashed in his eyes before it quickly disappeared, replaced by a cockiness that only the most confident of men displayed.
“In that case, I will please you again, over and over until you regret the day you left me. When I’m through with you, Cherie, you will leave my bed, unable to go to another’s, and you will fuck other men, knowing it will never be as good as it was with me, that you’ll never have what I gave you ever again, but that you can never come back to my bed, because I won’t want you.”
He dipped his head then, his lips curling around the tiny nub at the apex of her pussy, his tongue stroking inside her heated channel. By the third time she climaxed against his lips, her juices filling his mouth, she understood this indeed was the greatest torture of all. Because she knew Shane was the only man with the power to give to her what her body so desperately craved, but that once he was through with her, she’d never feel this way with any man ever again.
Chapter Four
The sound of Cherie climaxing against his lips was the sweetest thing he’d ever heard. He lapped up her juices, savouring the taste of her on his tongue, filling his lungs with the scent of her.
As he moved up her body to nestle his cock against her wet folds, he knew whatever hell he’d sentence her to when he cast her aside was a hell he’d suffer too. He hadn’t lied. He’d left a trail of women in his wake, hoping with each one he’d somehow erase the memory of that night with Cherie from his mind, but not one of them had the power to rid him of the raven haired beauty who had haunted his dreams for the last eight years.
Yes, there would come a day when he’d send Cherie on her way, but he knew just as she would never find a man to give her what only he could, he too would never find a woman who made him feel complete. After all, he’d already tried, and still, she was the only woman whose kiss was so potent he could spurt just from the silky taste of her mouth. Only Cherie had the power to fire his blood and ignite his desire with just a simple sigh of pleasure, just a single look.
He held her body open beneath him as he eased inside her dripping heat, and he struggled to breathe, her cunt seemingly strangling his dick. He knew he was a large man, and Cherie had been tight around him the time before, but not like this.
He stilled, her harsh pants breaking through the lust filled haze that clouded his brain.
“You want to tell me how a whore makes a living if she doesn’t fuck?”
Cherie’s eyes darkened. “Who says I haven’t been fucking—”
“You may have played me the fool once before, but I am not an idiot. Christ, Cherie, you’re as tight as a virgin. What the hell are you playing at here?”
He closed his eyes for just a moment, trying to block out the feel of her pussy, snug around his length, that swelled just a fraction at the thought of just how tight she was.
“I’m a madam,” she remarked, as if that explained everything, when it explained nothing at all. He’d been in the acquaintance of madams before—he’d fucked them all. Last time he checked, they took men to their beds, just as their girls did, although they had the luxury of being more selective.
He felt his balls drawing up tight against his body, so he pushed inside her slowly.
“We will discuss this later,” he gritted out. Time for talking was over, but he would discuss this with her later. Right now though, he needed to get inside her before he embarrassed himself and spilled his seed before he could even get into her pussy.
“Lock your ankles around me,” he commanded, a sharp groan pouring from his lips when the slight change in position caused him to sink farther inside her.
He gripped her hips, pushing himself deeper, and he had to force himself not to cry out and just come right then when the walls of her cunt bore down on him.
He moved within her, his strokes shallow at first, forcing her open, forcing her to accept him. As she stretched around him, her body accommodating his entire shaft, he went deeper, until he could bury his length fully inside her.
He struggled to breathe as her drenching heat coated him, easing the slick passage of his dick. He rocked inside her, his thrusts going hard and deep, her cries of pleasure echoing off the walls.
The bed squeaked, protesting their rough lovemaking, but Shane didn’t hear any of it. The only sounds that pierced his ears were her throaty screams that carried his name on a series of hoarse cries.
He ground his teeth together when she dug her nails deep into the skin of his shoulders, her thighs clamping around his hips. She came again, her body exploding beneath him, causing her to tremble in his arms, her wet release gushing out of her, all around his stroking shaft.
The scent of her climax filled the air, her musky release mingling with the sweet jasmine of her perfume. He dragged in a deep breath, taking all of her inside him, at the same time he gave her all of himself.
His climax rushed through him, suddenly, violently, and he let out a harsh bellow as he erupted inside her, burying his ruddy shaft against her womb as he filled her with his hot seed.
His release was so powerful that he collapsed against her, his heart hammering inside his chest. He struggled to drag in a breath, his hands roaming across her smooth skin until their stilted breathing quieted.
He stared into her beautiful face, her long sooty lashes resting against her creamy skin, her breathing even, and he already knew she was on her way to sleep. She probably thought he would follow soon after, but she was wrong—very wrong.
Now that his body was satiated, the need to find release in her sweet channel no longer clawing at him, he could make love to her properly, the way he’d sometimes fantasised he would if he ever caught up to her. Only on the stillest of nights would he allow those darkly provocative thoughts to take root.
He’d learned many things since Cherie had ushered him into manhood. Making love to her, the way he’d just done, was pleasurable enough, it certainly eased his lusts, but it wasn’t how he longed to take her. Cherie would soon learn that when he took a woman, he didn’t just make love to her; he branded her, dominated her.
He rolled away from Cherie, his movements quick and quiet. When he finally shook her awake, he’d be ready. He would make love to Cherie the way he’d longed to from the moment he’d dragged her back to his home and taken her into his bed.
* * * *
Cherie’s eyes fluttered open, and she yawned, slowly coming out of her lust induced slumber. She noticed immediately the room was different. Candles flickered in every corner, casting dancing shadows along the walls. She slid her gaze around the room, her eyes landing on him at the same time she realised her hands were clasped above her head, her wrists bound to the bed.
“Shane?” She didn’t even recognise her voice—it was tentative, uncertain. But then she didn’t quite recognise him. Shane stood above her, his stance wide, his handsome face harsh from the sharp light. There was something in his eyes, something dark and dangerous that made her heartbeat quicken and her belly flutter.
He didn’t say a word as he moved towards her, and that’s when she noticed the leather cow whip in his hand. She sucked in a breath when he trailed the rough, uneven leather across her bare legs, gently stroking the skin along the inside of her thighs.
She held his gaze, shivering at the dominance that radiated behind the stormy blue depths. She licked her lips, wondering, waiting for what would come next.
She didn’t have to wait long. With the flick of his wrist, the whip struck her across her breasts, forcing a sharp yelp from her lips.
“What the fuck, Shane!”
His eyes darkened, but still he remained silent. A tiny twinge of pain still lingered, and the milky skin along her breasts grew an angry crimson. She gasped softly when he cupped the mound of flesh he’d just struck with his whip, kneading and teasing the pliable flesh. When he dipped his head, dragging a coral tipped nipple between his lips, she cried out, her hands clenching above her head. He soothed her aching flesh with his warm tongue, as he drew lazy circles around her sensitive flesh.
She groaned in protest when he stood to his full height again, and her eyes remained riveted on the whip in his hand. So when the next strike came she was more prepared for it. The pain that slashed through her wasn’t quite as sharp this time, but it hurt nonetheless, until he leant down to soothe her again, his tongue tasting her, his lips suckling at her breasts.
She didn’t know how long this went on for, but by the time he set the whip aside, angry red slashes crisscrossed her breasts, and a deep aching need throbbed between her thighs.
“Shane—”
Her voice was tinged with desire and desperation, and he silenced her plea with a single finger against her lips.
“Turn over onto your belly.” The deep rumble of his voice startled her for it was the first words he’d spoken since he’d roused her from her slumber. She realised almost as soon as he’d begun that Shane had changed in the years since they’d parted ways. She’d met men who enjoyed the pleasure of dominance, but none had ever taken a whip to her. Had Shane not tied her up, she probably wouldn’t have allowed him to either. But whatever Shane had learned about the dark arts of dominance in the passing years, he’d learned well. She now hummed with such a throbbing need that she almost didn’t recognise her own body.
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