Dungeon Royale (Masters and Mercenaries)

by Lexi Blake

  Except you. Except this.

  He rolled her over, and she’d never in her life felt more vulnerable than that moment when he stared down at her, no expression on his face. He was remote, unattainable. He could ruin her with a few callous words. He could lift her up with well-placed ones. It was frightening just how much he meant to her, how much power he had over her when he was so damaged himself.

  His fingers came down to brush her tears away. “You crying damn near kills me. I don’t know why. I’ve watched women cry before. I’ve made women cry before. Something about your tears wrecks me. And yet I want them. I want you to cry because you’re bloody beautiful when you do it. Because I want your tears. I want them for me. I’m a greedy fucking bastard, and I want you to cry for me.”

  Because he couldn’t cry for himself. Likely hadn’t since he’d been a child. He seemed to study her for a moment before speaking again. “I won’t go easy on you. And I don’t want you to think we’ll be together when this is done. I’ve decided I don’t want a partner. Never again. If you like, you can have access to The Garden. I’ll give you a full membership and I’ll vet anyone you play with, but I won’t touch you again after this is done. I know you won’t believe me, but it’s for your own good. I’m not the man for you. I’m the man who’ll make you cry, and I don’t want that. I think you deserve better than that.”

  She would take it. It was a step in the right direction. At least he admitted he cared about her. “I want this time, Damon. I want the training. I promise I won’t beg you to keep me in the end. If you walk away, I’ll somehow manage to survive without you.”

  His eyes closed, but when he opened them again, he relaxed and rolled off the bed. She thought he was going to leave her, walk away and go about his business. He would leave her to Charlotte and Chelsea.

  He shoved his boxers off his lean hips, kicking them aside and stroking his big cock. “Fine. If this is the way you want it, I’ll teach you. Your first lesson is how to suck my cock. Get on your knees and show me what you know.”

  She scrambled off the bed, her backside aching, but it was a pleasurable thing now. Her heart started to pound in her chest, excitement driving her. “I don’t know very much.”

  She sank to her knees, trying to emulate the position Charlotte had taught her the night before.

  He loomed over her like a decadent dream. “You will when I’m done with you.”

  She licked her lips, ready to learn everything he could teach her.

  * * * *

  She was going to kill him. He might not make it to the meeting with Baz. He’d just let Penelope give him a heart attack.

  He’d fallen into bed after hitting the bottle far too hard. His head was aching, but it was nothing compared to the pain in his cock.

  He knew he should turn her away. He should be brutal with her, force her away. Save her.

  Her eyes came up, staring straight through him, and he knew he was a bastard, son of a bitch. Selfish. He put a hand in her hair, letting it sink into her curls. He was so selfish because he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say the words that would make her hate him forever. Fuck. He didn’t even want to.

  His cock strained toward her like the fucking thing had a brain and knew where it wanted to be.

  “Spread your knees farther apart.” He was supposed to be training her to be his submissive. Not his bloody partner. His. Now that he finally realized he was stuck in this mess, several realities occurred to him, the chief one being that she belonged to him for the duration. At the end of this operation, he would give her up and make sure that she never saw fieldwork again because he wouldn’t trust anyone else with her safety, but for now, Penelope Cash belonged to him.

  His to train. His to fuck. His to pleasure. The word beat through his system like the most addictive of all drugs. His. His. His.

  Her teeth sank into her plump bottom lip as she moved, spreading her knees, showing him her pussy.

  His pussy. It was his for the time being. Tag had been right about that. It was his pussy, the best he’d ever had. At heart, he supposed, men were still animals fighting for the right to mate with their chosen female. No matter how nicely he dressed, he wasn’t really civilized. Penelope Cash had proven that to him once and for all. He was just an animal driven by instincts. The instinct to fuck, to protect, to possess.

  “How much experience do you have?” The question came out casually, but inside he really wanted to know. He wanted to know how many men had been stupid enough to know the sweetness of that gorgeous, bratty mouth only to allow her to get away.

  “None when it comes to this,” she offered, wiggling a little.

  “None?”

  “I told you. Peter didn’t think it was sanitary.” Her lips curved as she said the words. Before when she’d talked about her ex, there had been a layer of sadness, of embarrassment. There was nothing but a little naughtiness now. Her tears, those sweet tears, had dried and she was ready for play.

  He tightened his hand in her hair, pulling her gently back so she was staring up at him. “What do you think? Did you like it when I sucked your cunt? Did you like it when I fucked you with my tongue and ate that pussy until I had my fill?”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  He tightened his hold until she hissed slightly. “What do you call me?”

  “Master.”

  He would only be her Master for a brief period of time, but she would use his proper title until he had to let go. He would get everything that was due to him while she was his. She was wiggling again. Despite the emotion of the morning, he found himself smiling. “Is there a problem, love? You seem to be a bit uncomfortable.”

  “Yes, Master.”

  “Tell me what’s paining you. Tell your Master what part of you aches.” He knew, but he wanted to hear it from her lips. Spanking her felt good and right, and he wouldn’t do it unless it was for her pleasure and his, or she spouted shite like she had earlier. He wouldn’t allow her to talk poorly of herself. Not while he was her Master.

  She frowned, her mouth going into the sweetest pout. “My bum hurts, Master. It still burns a bit.”

  He stroked his cock, wanting to draw this out. “You should remember that feeling, love, because every time I hear you speak like that about yourself, I’ll make sure to set your arse on fire. Am I understood? You want my training, you’ll play by my rules.”

  “Yes, Master.” She was watching his cock, her eyes on the head as he stroked himself. So responsive. She was completely untutored, her sensuality only just emerging. It was a gift he didn’t deserve, but fate had shoved her into his hands.

  “Is a sore bum your only problem, love? Do you have a wet pussy as well?”

  She nodded. “Yes, Master.”

  God, he loved hearing those words out of her mouth. “You’ll get no relief until you give me what I want. Lick the head.”

  Penelope leaned forward, her mouth coming open with a sweet obedience that had his cock swelling further. Her tongue came out, swiping across the head of his dick, licking up the pre-come that had beaded there. She didn’t hesitate, didn’t pull away, simply lapped at the slit on his dick, tasting him with honest, open curiosity.

  He held his ground, though it was hard to stay on his feet. The pleasure was so intense as she ran that sweet tongue all over the head of his cock.

  “I like how you taste, Master.”

  Fuck. “Suck the head. Take me deep.”

  She leaned forward and worked her mouth around his cock. It was awkward but endearing how hard she worked.

  “That’s right, love. Do you know how good your mouth feels? Run your tongue all over me.” He set his hand in her hair again, threading it tight this time. She was a natural, not because she was perfect, but because she wanted it, wanted him. That was all he needed.

  Over and over she worked his dick, taking more each time, with the same diligence she probably used when she was translating a document.

  “Take more.” He pulled gently on her h
air and reveled in the way she shivered. He could smell her arousal.

  His cock was past hard. He’d moved into completely new territory. All the blood in his body was rushing to his dick, and it made him a little light-headed. He shoved his hips toward her mouth, gaining another inch before allowing her to drag back almost all the way out of her mouth. She tickled his slit and then began her excruciatingly slow pass over his flesh. Her eyes were closed, but there was peace on her face, the same peace he’d seen in natural subs serving their Masters.

  She would need this. Even after he was gone, she would need to submit to a man who had her best interests at heart. Not everywhere. She would need to be a full partner in their regular life, but in the bedroom, she needed this.

  He wouldn’t be the man to give it to her.

  Ruthlessly, he shoved the thought away. He would deal with that when he had to. For now, he was going to take everything she had to give him. He would be selfish and soak up her sweetness.

  “More.” He wanted the back of her throat. He wanted every inch of his cock inside her.

  She licked and sucked and worked him until she’d gotten to his base.

  His eyes rolled into the back of his head. “You have to stop.”

  With regret, he pulled out of her mouth because he didn’t want to come yet. He wanted inside her. He wanted to be on top of her.

  “Master, I don’t mind. I want to swallow you.” Her eyes were wide as though she was worried she’d made a mistake.

  “And I want to fuck you. Who’s in charge? Get on the bed and spread your legs for me. You’ll get a belly full of my come, but not today. Right now, you’ll get on that bed and wait for me. You’ll take me when I want, how I want. This is how the relationship is going to go. You will obey me or there will be punishment.” He had to give her one more way out. “Think it through, Penelope. I’ll be hard on you. While you’re with me, you’re mine and I’ll want you three times a day. I won’t care that you’re sore or sleeping. I’ll wake you up and get you ready for me. I’ll take you when the mood strikes me and when I feel like it, where I feel like it. If I want to shove your skirt up in a coat closet, I’ll do it and you’ll present to me and make it easy. So if you don’t want that, walk out now. I’ll find a way around this.”

  She looked up at him and, for a moment, he was worried she would do just that. She would stand up and get dressed and walk out of his life forever and he wasn’t ready. God, he might never be ready for that. He wanted this time with her.

  Rising from her knees, she went up on her toes, bringing her lips to his chin. She kissed him there, an oddly sweet affection. “Yes, Master.”

  She turned, showing off that outrageously hot arse of hers, climbed on the bed, and then slowly spread her legs.

  Time seemed to stop, just for a moment, as he looked at her. Presentation. The sweet offering of a submissive to her Master. Charlotte Taggart had been talking about more than castrating him. She’d told Penelope exactly how to get to him. He was being manipulated by a translator who had never been in the field, never even had a real lover in his mind. Penelope was up on her elbows, her legs spread wide. It should have been a tawdry display, but not for her. No. She didn’t look like a whore. She looked like a temptress offering him so bloody much more than sex. It was innocent and sweet and just the slightest bit false because she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

  “Master?” Her voice shook just slightly as though worried her game was up.

  “Who does it belong to?” It didn’t matter. He knew he should walk away and it didn’t matter because Ian was right. That was his pussy and he couldn’t walk away from it, from her. He might find the strength later, but he couldn’t now. He couldn’t devastate her a second time and he damn straight couldn’t disappoint himself. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

  “You.” She met his eyes. “It’s yours for as long as I am.”

  He fell on her, using none of his usual grace. He wasn’t an animal in bed. He was always controlled and slightly cool, but not this time. This time his need to brand her beat through his veins, forcing him to spread her legs farther and make a place for himself at her core. With virtually no finesse, he slammed inside her, his cock unable to wait a second more.

  She would fight him now. She would see him for what he really was, what he always tried to hide.

  Her nails sank into the skin of his shoulders, the pain biting through him with abandon. Her legs wrapped around him, enveloping him. She wasn’t pushing him away. Penelope was fighting to keep him close to her.

  He took her mouth as he forced his cock high into her pussy. His tongue slid against hers, dominating her, fighting for control. She didn’t just lie back. She gave as good as she got. Her tongue pressed against him, her mouth allowing him access. The hard points of her nipples rubbed against his chest, and he couldn’t stop the growl that came out of his throat. He let his weight push her into the mattress as he began to thrust in and out.

  He wasn’t thinking about the future or the bloody past. There was only Penelope, his sub.

  He let go, pounding furiously into her, not giving a damn about anything but sinking his come deep inside her. Over and over, he fucked as far as he could into her. She thrust her pelvis up, taking him deep as her hands slid to his back, leaving her mark there.

  She came first, nearly screaming into his mouth. The tiny muscles of her cunt tightened, milking his cock for all they were worth.

  He held her tight and rode it out, giving up his come in long jets, letting it find a spot deep inside her body. He’d never taken a lover without a condom and never would again. Only from her would he find this connection, this amazing sensation of nothing being between them.

  Pulsing pleasure swept through his body, and even though he was empty, he couldn’t stop his hips from moving against her. He simply let his body sag onto hers, let her run her hands through his hair, soothing him.

  His heart pounded, blood rushing through him. Alive. He felt alive when he was with her. Not cold but warm and happy.

  If she died, he would let Baz take him.

  Fuck. He was going to get her killed because warm and fucking happy didn’t work on an op. Cold. Calculating. He needed to be the same agent Ian Taggart talked about—the one who made the hard decisions. Not the one who slept with his head cradled to his sub’s chest.

  He rolled off her, utterly unsure how to handle things. “That was good.”

  A stupid thing to say, but he couldn’t think of another way to break the moment between them. He didn’t want to hurt her again.

  She laughed a little. “Yes, it was. Now you feel free to run away, Damon. It’s all right. I’m fine. I understand that this is all about sex and this is how all of our sexual sessions end, with you taking a shower and going about your business. I intend to do the same.”

  He turned to look at her. She was smiling slightly, utterly unlike what he’d expected. He’d expected tears and regret, but she looked satisfied and relaxed and slightly amused with him. It rankled. Had she not felt what he had? “Is that right?”

  “You can’t help it. You’re a very foolish man.” She rolled off the bed with a casualness he wouldn’t have suspected she possessed. “But I’m taking the shower first this time. You left me without hot water last time. I’ll meet you downstairs. We have a conference at eleven, right?”

  She stretched, not seeming to mind that she was naked and had the faintest pink sheen to her arse. His cock rumbled again, stiffening as he watched her move. It was perverse. It was exactly what he should want. She was accepting the limitations of their relationship, but he was getting irritated at the very thought. Had she just used him for sex? “Yes.”

  “Excellent. There’s time for breakfast then.” She walked away, not bothering with the robe at the end of the bed. “See you later, Damon.”

  He watched her walk away, unable to take his eyes off her. What the hell had just happened?

  He hea
rd the shower turn on and wondered if he’d created a monster.

  Chapter Twelve

  Penelope shifted in her corset, trying to get used to the feeling of not being able to breathe at all. In any way. She stared at herself in the mirror, for once not hating the way she looked.

  She was more confident in her body. Sex with Damon every night and every morning and sometimes in the middle of the day had gotten her used to being naked around him. Since the debacle in Nigel’s office, almost a week had passed, and Damon was as remote as ever. Except when he took her to bed. Or against a wall. Or on top of his desk.

  He’d taken to calling for her in the middle of the day. She would walk in thinking they were going to work and he’d immediately order her to strip, and his cock would be inside her the minute her clothes were off.

  He gave her everything in those moments. And absolutely nothing but his polite charm outside of them.

  It was frustrating.

  “You look gorgeous,” Charlotte said, giving her a wink as she joined her in front of the dressing room mirror.

  “I look half naked.” More than half really since Damon had ordered her to wear a piece of floss between her arse cheeks.

  Chelsea snorted a little. “Enjoy it while you can. You’ll probably be fully naked by the end of the night.” She started to move, but her leg seemed to slip. She caught herself with a wince.

  “Are you all right?” At first Chelsea had seemed dauntless to her, unapproachable, a bit cold. Over the past few days, Penelope had come to see beyond the façade to the vulnerable young woman beneath. Chelsea didn’t like to show it, but she cared about the people around her. Even though she called one of them Satan.

  “It’s just my leg. Nothing new. I’m fine.” Chelsea rubbed her thigh through the PVC she wore.

  “No, you’re in pain,” Charlotte said, reaching for her sister. “Are you going to take something?”

  Chelsea shook her head. “No. If I start taking pills, I might not stop. I can be honest about that much. I need a session. Do you think…”