Dan tasted a hint of salt as he began to suck her juices into his mouth. From above him, she moaned and grabbed his head. She pressed her pussy against his face and he responded by inserting the point of his tongue into her opening. He longed to fill her with his cock, but this was about his Mistress and her pleasure. His mouth would have to do for now.
“Oh, suga’, that feels so incredibly good. Someone has certainly taught you your manners when it comes to this…” She groaned.
Never taking his mouth away from her, Dan reached between her legs and inserted a finger into her pussy. He pressed against the upper wall of her vagina where he felt the slight difference in the texture of the tissue and she responded by bucking off the edge of the seat. He pushed her hips down into the chair with his free hand and then reached under her. With the middle finger of his right hand still pressing against her g-spot, he parted her ass cheeks with his left, gathered the moisture that had collected between them and began to spread it over her tight hole.
“Yes. Do it now.” She was still in control, still issuing orders…still his Mistress Belle.
Dan pressed against the skin surrounding her tight hole, testing her for readiness. He felt her hand grip his; the action making her command known without words. She was so wet now that he was able to insert his middle finger into her, able to move it beyond the resistance he felt just inside.
Dan tongued her clit then took it between his lips as Mistress Belle screamed his name.
Chapter Five
Exhausted, Dan let himself into his hotel room. After his night with Mistress Belle, he’d stopped for a drink in the hotel lobby and had run into a few of his colleagues. One drink had turned into three and it was now after two in the morning. He knew he would be struggling to stay awake during the conference the next morning.
He engaged the deadbolt, reached to turn off the light by the door and moved to the bed where his wife lie reading a book.
He kneeled then leaned up to kiss her on her cheek as she smiled down at him. He raised his hand to her, his wrist still firmly encased in the silver handcuff she had placed there earlier in the evening.
“Tonight was amazing, Mistress. You truly outdid yourself.” He told her.
She reached down to him, unlocked the metal on his arm, placed it aside and began to rub at his slightly reddened skin. “Is that right? I’ll remember that tomorrow night when you’re complaining about how uncomfortable you were sitting in those conference chairs all day.”
“You’re right; sitting will be uncomfortable tomorrow, but worth every minute. Thank you again, Mistress.”
She laughed. “No need to thank me. You know how much I enjoy our scenes.” She pulled him up into her embrace and placed a kiss on his mouth. “Tonight was particularly fun. It was so nice of Mistress Celine to allow us to use her home. Remind me to send her flowers tomorrow, will you darling?”
“Of course. What time would you like your coffee tomorrow morning, Mistress?” It was Dan’s greatest pleasure to serve her and he was proud of how well he did so.
“Let’s just see how late we sleep.” She pulled back the comforter and patted the pillow beside her. “As for now, it’s time for you to be in my bed, subbie.”
A Few More Rules
By Dorothy F. Shaw
Dedication
For all the women who need to be in control, and for the men who are strong enough to beg them to be…
Acknowledgements
Thank you to my sweet Bethany, for allowing me the use of your name and image for the inspiration of the heroine. She’s not you, of course, and you are the furthest thing from a female Dominant, but that’s why it’s called fiction! Much love, honey.
A big thank you to author Sidda Lee Rain! As usual, Momma, you carry me through as my writing sprint partner in crime! I got nothing but naked love for you!
Super big thank you to author Megan Hart for beta reading this little novella and letting me know it didn’t suck. And also, the title suggestion. My writing slump was long and deep and I’m grateful it’s over. You’re always reminding me that my writing doesn’t suck…and this go-round, I really needed to hear it. And for that, I am eternally in your debt. Love you, bebe!
CHAPTER ONE
“Be right with you!”
Rig Jenkins glanced to his right as a petite bar waitress brushed by him in such a rush, the only thing he caught a glimpse of was her back. And also her backside—and a mighty fine glimpse it was. As Rig took his seat on a stool at the bar, he also took a little more time to behold her backside before she turned and ran off to another table.
“What can I get you?”
Rig turned and faced the tall brunette, wearing more makeup than he preferred to see on women, behind the bar. Clearing his throat, he glanced over the booze lining the shelves behind her. Whiskey and Bourbon was definitely a thing in this place. Eyeballing the bottles along the back wall, there had to be at least a hundred and fifty plus different kinds. A good mix of craft and domestic beer on tap too. He smiled at the brunette. “‘Lotta choices, ma’am.”
She smiled back at him, her glossy red lips shining in the overhead spotlights. “Craving anything specific?”
Rig rubbed his palms together. He was craving plenty, but what that was exactly, he wasn’t about to get into with her. “Guessing I’ll keep it simple tonight. Shot of Jack and a Coors Light bottle, please?”
She winked. “Coming right up.”
As she went to work filling his order, Rig glanced around the table area in search of the petite waitress who’d rushed past him not three minutes earlier. She was off in the far corner, nodding, a soft smile on her face, as a guy, sporting a big belly and cowboy hat, talked to her. Though Rig could only see her profile, it was obvious she was a pretty girl.
“Here you go.”
Rig focused his attention on the shot and beer now placed before him on the polished wood bar top. And then the smiling, brunette. She was pretty too, but more on the level of too much makeup, too high maintenance, which added up to definitely not his type of pretty. He nodded and lifted the shot. “Thank you, ma’am.”
“So polite.” She tipped her head to one side and tucked a lock of her long hair behind an ear. “Name’s Cassy. If you need anything else. Anything at all, don’t hesitate to holler.”
Her eyes went soft and all doe-eyed. The silvery eye shadow coating her lids sparkled along with her shining red lips from the overhead lights as she made a show of blinking all slow and alluring.
Rig smirked and tossed the shot back. Yep, all done up and definitely not his type. And even though he saw tits and ass on a daily basis working security at Deuce’s Cabaret, Cassy’s cleavage pushed up from the tight leather vest she wore was nothing to shake a stick at.
However, they weren’t a pair he’d choose to shake his stick at.
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Bethany Carlson shifted her hips side to side, smiling as she listened to one of the regulars prattle on about something with his work, and people not doing their jobs, and yada-yada, blah, blah…only he could save the day because of how smart he was.
The band was gearing up to start, and as the guy paused in his—look at me, I’m just so amazing—story to sip his drink, Bethany took it as her cue to get moving. “You need another?”
“Absolutely!” He smiled, his full round face appearing rounder.
She didn’t want to be rude, truly. She was raised to know better. Instead, she smiled, she nodded, and did her best to appear interested, while at the same time figuring out a way to move along and tend to her other customers. Smile, nod. Smile, nod…rinse, lather, repeat. “Coming right up!”
On her way back to the waitress station at the end of the bar, another customer snagged her arm and asked for a refill and a menu. Then another requested their tab. Thursday night at The Whiskey Barrel was ladies night and always busy. Busy was good for Bethany’s wallet.
The crowd favorite, local band, Zona Road, provided a full play list of c
ountry cover songs and did one hell of a job belting them out. The patrons, a mix of old and young, country danced until their hearts were content on the small dance floor, and Bethany navigated in and around them and the others surrounding the tables, keeping everyone’s drink card full.
After calling out her order to Cassy, she closed out the tab for the customer who had asked, pulled the pen she’d stuck in the bun at the back of her head free and laid it in the bill-folder ready for signing. Stepping away, she delivered it to where it needed to go, grabbed a couple of empties off the table, promised another bill to a customer and rushed back to the bar.
Hustling from one customer to the next, making sure they all had what they needed, was the name of the game. Though it kept the tips rolling in, which is what she needed most, a bonus benefit was it also helped keep her ass at the size she much preferred it to be too.
With a menu tucked under one arm, the new bill-folder under the other and drinks in both hands, Bethany spun to head off and make her deliveries…and collided with a rather large patron passing in front of her.
“Shoot!” The trickle of cold liquid slid down her hands and forearms, and she instinctively shot her hips back in attempt to keep the spillage from hitting her bare legs.
The guy grabbed her upper arm. “Oh, damn. You okay?”
“Yeah. All good, just need a towel.” She glanced up, ready to reassure him with an easy smile…and lost her breath. My, oh my. Before she realized what was happening, he’d snagged a bar towel from the stack next to the waitress station, took one of the drinks from her hand, and began cleaning her up.
Bethany stood dumbstruck, taking in his features. My word, he’s beautiful. And tall, so tall. The rough rub of the stiff cotton towel on her forearm snapped her out of her momentary drooling-over-a hot-guy stupor and she slid the rag from his hand. “Thank you, I’m okay.”
He stuck his hands in his pockets. “I’m real sorry for plowing into you like that, ma’am.”
“No harm—a tremor ran through her—done.” Did he…ma’am? The sound of the word as it rolled from his tongue, his deep voice with a slight southern accent, had heat radiating from her lower abdomen through her limbs as a shiver zipped down her spine and the hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
Working as a bar waitress these past couple of years, Bethany had been addressed a thousand different ways. Honey, baby, sweetheart, miss, dear, sweetie, even cutie…but never ma’am. Apparently “ma’am” birthed a fire inside her so hot, it turned her blood to burning lava unlike anything ever had before.
Wow, she more than liked, if not loved the sensations, as well as the mental and emotional responses running rampant through every inch of her body, but hell if she had any idea why she was reacting this way.
In an effort to distract herself, even if only a little, Bethany finished the clean up job. When she was done, she tossed the towel aside and did her best to put a lid on the vibrations still ping-ponging around her insides. She cleared her throat in order to talk and not sound like a complete doofus. “I’ll take that drink back now.”
With a slight shake of his head and a sexy smile arching his too perfect lips, he glanced away from her for a heartbeat, and then met her gaze again. “Yes, ma’am.”
Heat rose up Bethany’s neck and face, and she thought for sure she was the color of a bright red apple. Good grief. He stepped closer and the scent of clean soap filled her lungs…and her knees went loose. The warmth radiating off his big body surrounded her and every inch of her skin tingled in response. And then another shiver raced down her spine. Unable to stop herself, Bethany tilted her head back to keep eye contact and let out a sigh. Gorgeous smile…
The urge to tell him to get on his knees plowed through Bethany’s brain with a force so severe, she sucked in a breath. Before the words had a chance to manifest, the feel of the cool glass hit her palm and Bethany tore her gaze away long enough to grasp the drink in her hand so she didn’t drop it. Catching his eyes again, she couldn’t stop a smile from arching her lips—not that she wanted to stop it though. “Thanks.” She shrugged as relief spilled through her that she hadn’t blurted out a command she’d never in her life given before. “Gotta go deliver these.”
Another moment passed, the tension between them thick as molasses, before he nodded and stepped aside. Instantly, Bethany felt the absence of his big body as if he’d been wrapped around her but suddenly let her go and pulled away. An almost feral craving clawed at her insides to have the heat of him around her again.
Which was crazy!
Aside from when he grabbed her arm, their bodies hadn’t even touched!
Stupid crazy!
Frowning at the profound feeling of loss inching along her skin and settling in her stomach like a block of ice, she stepped away and headed toward her waiting customers. It wasn’t like she didn’t see good-looking guys on a regular basis. She saw them all the time. The bars were full of them. And country bars had them in spades for sure. She never engaged with them though. She never flirted or lingered or was even interested. What on earth could be so different about this one? Why him?
But good grief, his smile! The man’s smile took his already good looks and sent them right off the charts. The light was dim in the bar, but not dim enough where she couldn’t see the color of his eyes. They were blue and gorgeous. Close cropped, brown hair, chiseled jaw line. Full lips. Over six feet tall, and definitely muscular—as in washboard abs kind of muscular. She didn’t need to see beneath his t-shirt and flannel to know that was a fact. The boy was straight up fine. No doubt about it.
But her sudden attraction to him was more than all of those things combined. Question was, did she want to find out how much more?
CHAPTER TWO
Rig watched the epitome of the perfect girl next-door walk away from him, and once again, he admired the incredible view of her behind in denim short shorts. Except this time, he also took the opportunity to check out her silky legs. His jeans got a whole lot tighter in the fly area and his palms ached to know if her skin felt as soft as it looked.
She wore very little makeup, if any at all. Which he loved. Her hair was pulled into a thick bun, positioned low at the base of her head. She wore a flannel shirt, tied into a knot at her waist and some sort of barely there lace tank top underneath it. And cowgirl boots, good God, boots! Rig ran his palm over his head. Damn, she was fine.
He’d called her ma’am—no different from how he addressed all females he came in contact with. It was a respect thing his Momma and Daddy ensured he learned as a kid, but for some reason when he said it to this girl, it felt way different. The second the respectful term had passed his lips, her eyes had flared, a fire sparking in them. But then, almost immediately, as if he was connected to her in some mystical way, his body responded like she’d called him directly to her—and he followed the instinct, stepping as close as he could get.
God Almighty, when Rig touched her arm and the heat of her skin passed through the thin flannel sleeve to his palm, his dick had gone rod hard. Even so, he knew on some sort of molecular level he’d been wrong to touch her without asking. When he let go, all he could think about was how much he wanted—no, needed to touch her again.
After she’d taken the bar rag from him to finish cleaning up the spill, he stuffed his hands in his pockets like a stupid insecure teenager. He didn’t trust himself, and looking like a fool was far better than touching her again without permission.
Truth be told, the way some of the world lacked respect for personal boundaries, made Rig’s stomach turn. No matter a person’s gender, they didn’t have the right to touch someone without their consent—another thing his parents had made sure he understood even as a small boy. Though his family wasn’t perfect, without a doubt, his parents had raised him right.
Once he’d started getting older, and having girlfriends, Rig never laid his hands on a woman without being invited to do so. But this instinctual pull, driving him to go to her, was somet
hing entirely different. Unable to process everything swirling around his head, Rig moved back to his seat at the bar and ordered another beer.
An idea niggled at the back of his mind, just out of reach. Rig sipped from the beer bottle and watched his tiny waitress move about the bar as the idea—which had started as little, and ridiculous—grew. Until there was nothing to do but throw all the doors and windows open and face it.
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