Feral King (The Dominant Bastard Book 1)

by Sparrow Beckett

  How could he expect her to choose him over her own flesh and blood?

  If she didn’t come back it wouldn’t surprise him. Church was never coming back. Maybe Church was what had kept Sutton here all along. They’d always had a strong bond. Church had always been the easy one, so Severin had never begrudged the fact that Sutton liked him more. She’d never said so, but Church was never any trouble, and had turned into someone she could be proud of.

  Severin was a disappointment. None of the things she’d ever worked on with him had sunk in. He was the same mess he’d been as a teenager, only in a bigger shell.

  Minnow gave a small cry but didn’t open her eyes. Were people supposed to wake someone having a nightmare? He couldn’t remember. Her breathing changed. She rolled onto her stomach and squirmed against the bed, whimpering. Not a nightmare. She was such a sensual little thing with her long eyelashes, pouting lips, and with her rounded ass that begged for his attention. He groaned inwardly, sinking back onto the couch beside the window. Apparently she even thought about sex when she was asleep. She mewled, and his cock went hard immediately, more than willing to accommodate.

  What was she dreaming of? Or more importantly, who?

  “Please.” The word came out as a breathy whimper. “Oh please. I’ll be a good girl.”

  He palmed his erection, meaning to readjust himself in his jeans, but he’d been up half the night wondering why he hadn’t taken her the night before, and the series of erections he’d had as a result were starting to wear on him.

  She was probably thinking about Rodrigo, and how hard she’d come when he fucked her. It was his own fault for insisting, but now she was probably going to fantasize about Ro forever. He’d have to live with that.

  Watching Rodrigo fucking her had been so fucking hot though – because he’d told them to. Both of them looking to him for direction and approval had been a heady experience.

  A plaintive sound of pain split the silence of the room, and her hips rocked harder against the bed. “Please no, you’re hurting me, Mister Leduc.”

  Fucking hell.

  Her eyelids flickered, and her desperate whimpering grew louder.

  Nights ago, she’d given him permission to touch her while she slept, so really there was nothing stopping him but his own stubbornness.

  “Miss Korsgaard!” he barked.

  She frowned in her sleep, but didn’t rouse.

  “Minnow!”

  This time her eyes did open – warm brown, confused. She winced as though waking pained her.

  She rolled back onto her side and slid her hand under the covers, focusing on him drowsily. She gasped, and her eyes fell closed for a moment. When she opened them again there was undisguised lust in her gaze.

  “You just had to ruin that for me,” she said, her voice husky and full of mock accusation. She bit her lip, and her hips bucked. “Be a gentleman and let me come, Mister Leduc.”

  “How’s your ass this morning?”

  “You’d have to try it and tell me.” She stretched out on her stomach again. “Probably tight,” she said sleepily, raising her hips as though to give him better access. “You’d have to use your fingers first.”

  He swallowed hard, trying to compose himself enough for a clever comeback.

  “If I took you up on that, you’d probably regret it.”

  “Probably, but it felt so damn good in my dream, I’m willing to take the chance.” She laughed to herself. “That’s how you can tell you’re getting to me. You’ve kept me on edge for so long I’m grateful to dream about getting something I don’t even want.” Her gaze dropped to his jeans. “Could you use some help with that, Master? You can use my mouth, if you’d like.”

  “I’m perfectly comfortable. Let me see the damage I did last night.” He pulled back her covers, and she shivered.

  “It’s cold!” She burrowed into the mattress, but stuck her ass out at him in invitation.

  He sat next to her on the bed even though he didn’t have time for further temptation. Slower than strictly necessary, he slid down her flannel pajama pants, revealing her mouth-wateringly curved posterior. She had the kind of body they rarely put in magazines, but most men had to fantasize about. The only thing better than the way her tits jiggled when he spanked her was the way her ass jiggled. With the tiny waist to hang onto, and that sweet face to make you believe she’d never had a perverted thought in her life – and yet the mind behind those innocent eyes was so fucking dirty.

  When he finally got her pants down under her ass, the flesh there was mottled red and purple, and one large handprint was a perfect raised welt on the back of her thigh. He was simultaneously disgusted with himself and turned on all over again. She made the sexiest sounds when he spanked her, and she had an ass made specifically for spanking.

  “Does it still hurt?” He prodded at a bruise and she hissed.

  “Uh huh.” She pouted at him reproachfully. “You broke it.”

  “It’s not broken,” he said, smiling at her bid for sympathy.

  “It is! I can’t even sit on it.”

  “That’s no problem. You’re supposed to kneel at my feet, not sit around on your ass all day.”

  “It’s hard to kneel at your feet when I can’t find you.”

  He stretched out beside her and she turned onto her side. Face to face, they were so close to each other they could almost kiss. She wriggled even closer, and her brows drew together in supplication.

  “You need to shower and get dressed. We’re going into town.”

  She groaned, and her thigh brushed against his erection.

  “Please, can I suck your cock before we go, Mister Leduc?” She shifted lower and moved her fingers to just in front of the button of his jeans. “Please? I need something. I can’t go out in public in this condition.”

  “How is sucking my cock going to help you?”

  She groaned again. “If you come in my mouth I can guarantee it’ll help me.” She brushed her fingers over the button of his jeans and whined like a puppy that wanted a treat.

  “Denial is good for the soul.” He got out of bed, denying them both, and the sound of desperation she made was so sexy his cock twitched.

  “You’re making me crazy. I need to get you used to being touched – at least by me.”

  “So you can touch me whenever you want?”

  “No, Master. I wouldn’t take liberties. I just think you’d give in to pleasure more if you got used to me touching you.”

  “And how do you propose to get me used to something I don’t like?”

  “Let me do things for you. I could shave you, brush your hair, give you massages.”

  “You’re just trying to get your hands on my dick.”

  “My hands? Sure, but that’s not all I had in mind.” She pulled her pajama pants the rest of the way off and his body responded immediately to the implied invitation. When she knelt up on the mattress and her fingers moved to start unbuttoning her top, he was riveted in place. The prim neckline became exposed cleavage, soft belly, bellybutton, open shirt. She slid the edges of her shirt slowly aside, lingering over her nipple, brushing back and forth over it until it was a stiff upturned peak begging for his mouth. The smoothness of her pussy beckoned to him, inviting him to explore her again.

  Fuck exploring. He wanted to claim her as his...

  But not yet. Especially not when she was trying to bait him into it.

  He gave her an arrogant grin. “Shower and get ready.”

  “I couldn’t be more ready,” she said, begging with her eyes.

  “I’m serious. We’re going into town.”

  She swore and collapsed onto the bed, her hand sneaking down to cup between her legs. The subtle play of her fingers made him grit his teeth.

  “You’d better not come without permission.”

  Her gaze grew hazed with lust as she watched him. Slowly, her legs parted and she began to stroke herself there, her hips shifting as she teased herself. She angled her
lush body to show him what she was doing.

  “I’d never come without your permission unless it was an accident, Mister Leduc.” Her breath caught and her eyes fluttered closed as her cheeks bloomed pink with desire.

  Watching was rewarding bad behavior, even if it was sexy bad behavior, so he went through her closet.

  “What are you doing?” she asked, laughing. He heard the rustle of her sitting up in bed.

  “Choosing what I want you to wear.”

  “To go out?” she asked, incredulous. “Is this some sort of fancy date with power dynamics thrown in?”

  “No. This is me choosing what I want to see you in.” He chose a red sweater that would go well with her coloring, and a pair of jeans he liked on her, and threw them onto the bed.

  “Oookay.”

  He went to her drawer and she scrambled off the bed. “Stay on the bed,” he snapped.

  “But –”

  “But?” He turned to face her, and she nibbled at her bottom lip. “I hope there’s nothing embarrassing in here.”

  “You’re going through my things?”

  He snorted. “Yes. And I will whenever I please.”

  “Ugh.” She pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes, as if she couldn’t bear to watch.

  More curious now, he went through the contents of each drawer, holding up various bra and panty sets he hadn’t seen on her yet – some functional, some meant for the eyes of a lover rather than to be worn under clothing. Both aroused him for different reasons.

  As he sorted through things, he took note of various personal items she had tucked away. A picture of her with an older man and woman – all three of them smiling. He assumed they were her parents, from the resemblance. Strange how there was only one picture. He held it up.

  “Parents?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you like them?”

  “Sure.”

  “Why don’t you ask me for time to see them?”

  “We were – never close. They moved to Africa to do missionary work after my sister’s wedding. They’re nurses.” She shrugged. “They’re nice people, but they don’t understand where they went wrong with me.” The one-shouldered shrug said it didn’t matter, even though he could tell it did.

  He got a handle on the unexpected rage this roused in him. How dare they think there was anything wrong with her. “There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re fucking perfect.”

  She blinked at the ferocity of his words.

  “If you locked me in a tower and threw away the key, it would be years before they noticed I was missing.” Her voice was quiet, but her expression was one of self-mockery, as though her pain was silly and inconsequential.

  Her pretty mouth twisted mischievously, apparently done with being sad. That momentary flash of vulnerability, though, clung in his thoughts. So many fucking people were alone in this world, sometimes even the ones who supposedly had families.

  “I’m too...sexual to fit into their world. They completely wrote me off at sixteen after I asked for birth control.”

  “Sixteen?”

  “Yeah...I probably shouldn’t have told them my boyfriend was in college.”

  “You were fucking a college boy?”

  “Kind of.”

  “How can someone kind of be in college?”

  “Well...he worked there.”

  “As?”

  She sighed then smiled wryly. “A professor.”

  Protective urges surged. Some asshole had taken advantage of her when she was hardly more than a child? Had the guy been prosecuted? Had someone broken his fucking legs yet?

  Her hands went up in a warding gesture, and she grimaced. “Don’t blame him. I worked at the coffee shop on campus. He thought I was several years older than I was, and I never corrected him.”

  He snorted. Ridiculous. Like anyone would have believed a sixteen-year-old was an adult? “You seriously think he never figured it out?”

  “Oh...when I ended up in his freshman class a couple of years later he was horrified. I don’t think he could have faked his reaction to finding out my real age at that point. I got a great mark in that class,” she mused.

  He started to laugh, but was still skeptical about the guy being that obtuse. The funny part to him was that Minnow was obviously still proud of her conquest, even though in retrospect she had to know it had been completely inappropriate. “So you’ve always been a hellion?”

  “Yeah,” she sighed. “It’s hard to be a good when I get a total girl boner for men in authority.”

  “Should I be checking your ID to make sure you’re not underage, Miss Korsgaard?”

  She gestured at her handbag, which was on a chair by the bedroom door. “It would be less embarrassing than what you’re going to find if you keep going through my shit.”

  If that wasn’t incentive to keep going...

  “So who introduced you to kink?” he asked casually as he piled the trinkets he came across on top of her dresser. A small stuffed bunny that had obviously been well loved, a bundle of ancient-looking letters tied with ribbon, a child’s jewelry box with a fairy on it. Handcuffs, nipple clamps, a vibrator.

  “The professor,” she replied. “Well, that’s not entirely true. I was kinky even when I was a kid.”

  “Was he your first lover?”

  “No.”

  He raised a brow at her and she rolled her eyes.

  “But you hadn’t needed birth control before that?”

  “Nah. The girl I dated before him was always careful to pull out.” She winked.

  He would not allow his mind to drift to Minnow making out with a woman. No. Not letting himself think about it.

  “Nothing?” she asked, incredulous. “Not even a flicker of interest?”

  He shook his head. “I’m not saying I wouldn’t watch, but you’d still need permission.”

  “Of course, Master. I’m an honorable slut.”

  He inclined his head, glad she followed those sorts of rules, at least. “Who are the letters from?”

  “From my grandparents to each other, during the Vietnam War.”

  “Have you read them all?”

  “Nooo... No, no. I can’t read them. They’re really fucking dirty.” She giggled. “At least I know where I get it from. My mother was going to burn them.”

  He turned to the next drawer.

  “Wait!” she said, her voice shrill. “Don’t you think that’s enough self-disclosure for one day?”

  He gauged her reaction to his hand on the drawer pull. She looked like she might faint.

  “Apparently not.” He opened the drawer.

  “Don’t be upset. I can explain.”

  In the drawer with her socks and flannel pajamas was a very familiar looking shirt.

  He pulled the shirt free and held it out. “And here I thought you were an honorable slut.”

  “There’s honor among thieves?” she said hopefully.

  When he crossed his arms and raised a brow, she shivered.

  “Why is one of my T-shirts in your drawer, Miss Korsgaard? It’s not even clean.”

  “If I washed it, it wouldn’t smell like you.” She fell back on the bed, the shirt she wore parting to reveal the bounce of her breasts as her body settled on the mattress. With her legs hanging over the end of the bed way they were, he was tempted to part those creamy thighs of hers and use his tongue to find out just how aroused she was.

  “Why would you need a shirt that smelled like me?”

  “I just...wanted it. I’m sorry. I didn’t think you’d notice.”

  “Is this the one I put on you after the night in my office with Rodrigo?”

  “Yes.” She smiled shyly, looking up at him from her back, her expression soft and receptive. It was so difficult for him to believe she liked him more than Ro, but she was gradually convincing him.

  He put the shirt back in her drawer and she clapped her hands. “Thank you!”

  “If you want to steal anythi
ng else of mine, you’d better ask first or there’ll be painful consequences, understood?”

  “Oh,” she said, sounding nervous.

  “Was that the only thing you’ve taken, Miss Korsgaard?”

  “Well...yes.”

  “You don’t sound sure.”

  “I didn’t technically take it, but I should probably return your tie from Church’s wedding.”

  “And why do you still have it?”

  She winced. “Reasons.”

  “Reasons?”

  “Nefarious reasons, Master. Can’t we just pretend I gave it back?”

  He shook his head and she sighed, but crawled to the headboard with a sexy grace that made him want to start the day off with sticking his stiff prick in her ass. From under her pillow she withdrew the tie, more creased than the last time he’d seen it.

  “Have you been tying yourself up with my tie?”

  She made a sound of scorn as she handed it to him, but didn’t actually deny it and wouldn’t meet his gaze. As soon as the silk touched his hand she headed for the shower, as though avoiding further questioning. At the door, she turned back, her face hopeful.

  “Would you like to shower with me, Mister Leduc?”

  “No. We have to be downtown in an hour to drop off a bike.”

  She sighed and gazed at him longingly, then strolled off into the attached bathroom, giving him one more enticing look over her shoulder before dropping the unbuttoned shirt to the floor and sauntering away.

  The meeting was in an hour.

  This wasn’t the time.

  His dick disowned him as he walked away from her invitation.

  *

  Watching Minnow throw one of her shapely, jeans-covered legs over the monster bike was an instant hard-on. The thing was too big for her, but she managed it fine, cruising along the highway at a dignified pace showing the confidence of a rider who didn’t feel the need to grandstand to prove her skill.

  By the time they reached Rodrigo’s, he was ready to throw her down on the front lawn and screw her in front of the buyer.

  Rodrigo and the buyer stepped out into the driveway just as they pulled up, and when Minnow pulled off her helmet, Ro grinned, looking impressed.

  “That’s a lot of bike for such a little girl,” Rodrigo said, winking at her.

  “I like them big,” she shot back.