The Submissive's Last Word (The Power to Please, Book 4)

by Ward, Deena

  I smiled. I could do that. I placed my palms on his hard chest for balance, and I began to ride him. The angle was different with me on top, allowing deeper penetration. It was glorious. The aftershocks of my orgasm were brilliant bursts of pleasure in my clit.

  Gibson squeezed my breasts and thumbed across my nipples. I burned under the desire I saw in his face, in his eyes. His approval was one more erotic layer piled upon a dozen others. No one, I thought, had ever made me feel as sexy as he did.

  I settled into the rhythm of making love to this powerful man who let me take the lead but was always, always in control. I watched him watch me, and when it became too much, I threw my head back, closed my eyes and simply fucked him, simply felt what it was to have his hard cock inside me, to experience the slick, tight slide and pull.

  I fucked him until his hands closed around my hips and he began lifting me, driving me down onto him, up off of him. And the familiar pressure rose above the regular pleasure and I gasped, working for it, fighting for air, flying as Gibson’s breath blew hot and fast, and his dark eyes somehow became even darker, more intense.

  It was a deep, deep thing, this orgasm. It grew inside me, far inside, and when it exploded, it crashed outward in a violent shock that made me half rise up off of Gibson, then slammed me back down again. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t cry out, so intense was this thing, so volatile.

  As soon as Gibson felt me go, he drove his hips upward, ever faster, faster, until he trembled, and his body jerked underneath mine. I felt the tremor pass through his hips, into his cock and up into my pussy. He ground himself up against me, and I ground down onto him.

  His cock twitched inside me as he came, filling me, and he cried out his release. I maintained the rhythm he had lost in his pleasure, until at last, when he was finally spent, I collapsed down onto his chest, my head falling against his shoulder.

  He wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me tight. We lie there together panting.

  My mind was empty, I was replete.

  And the world was a far lovelier place than it had been in a long while.

  Chapter 8

  Full night fell while I dozed in Gibson’s arms. When I woke, I didn’t want to move, afraid of breaking whatever good luck spell had brought us back together. He must have sensed my waking, though, because he ran his hands down my back and made me shiver.

  I kissed his chest, and he nuzzled my hair, then I crawled off him far enough to reach the nightstand and flip on the small lamp. I belatedly thought of how my hair was probably sticking up all over my head and quickly went to work combing it with my fingers, trying to get it back into shape.

  Gibson stretched lazily on the bed. “You look beautiful.”

  “For a woman with bed-head, you mean.”

  “For any woman.”

  “That kind of talk is seriously going to get you more action if you don’t watch it.”

  “I’d hate for something like that to happen.”

  I grinned and sat on the edge of the bed. “Are you hungry?”

  “You’re not going to make me eat another dreadful omelet, are you?”

  “You wish. No, I’m out of eggs.”

  “I’ll handle it,” he said, and he sat up, reached over to where his pants lay on the bed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. In a few seconds he placed his call. “Make up a couple plates of food and bring them over to the lakeview cottage please. Thanks,” he told whoever was on the other end of the call.

  He tossed the phone aside. “There. It shouldn’t take ten minutes. They’ll fix us up something from the picnic.”

  “For some reason, I thought you were going to have eggs delivered,” I said.

  “You did?”

  “I really did.”

  He smiled. “I can change the order if you want.”

  “Don’t you dare!”

  He grabbed me, pulled me into a hug, and kissed me until I shivered.

  I leaned against his chest and sighed. “So, I guess I’m making you a bad host, keeping you away from your guests.”

  “They’re not my guests. It’s Paulina’s party. I only went because you were there.”

  “How flattering. I thought the draw was the fire pit and the roasting pig.”

  “You were why I went, the pig pit was why I stayed.”

  “That makes more sense. Do you think everyone’s gone home yet?”

  “I don’t know. They’ll likely stay until Paulina allows them to leave.”

  “Just so we’re clear, you don’t have my permission to leave this bed until tomorrow, and only then since you probably have to work.”

  His hand closed over my breast and squeezed lightly. “I do have to work tomorrow, otherwise I’d let you hold me hostage as long as you want.”

  I played my fingertips over the ridges of his stomach muscles. “Guess we’ll have to make the most of the time we have left.”

  He pinched one of my nipples between his thumb and forefinger, igniting a buzz between my legs. “I don’t know if I’ve ever told you, but I’m fine with only a few hours of sleep a night.”

  “Mmm, I probably am, too.”

  “Probably, huh?”

  “Yeah. Since I don’t have to go to work, I can sleep all day if I want.”

  “Good point. Beautiful and smart. No wonder I can’t keep my hands off you.”

  I groaned as he pulled on my nipple, distending the pink flesh and making my heart flutter. “If you don’t stop that, I won’t be in any condition to answer the door when the food comes.”

  He released my nipple and it snapped back into its normal shape, then he went for my other nipple. “That’s okay. I’ll take care of it.”

  He bent me backwards, laying me flat on the bed. He lowered his head to my breast and sucked my hardened nipple into his mouth. His other hand reached between my legs and I groaned, long and low.

  Oh, yes. He would take care of it. He knew exactly what to do.

  At six-thirty the next morning, we stepped out of the cottage and headed for the big house. He tucked me in beside him, his hand at my waist. The morning was chilly and the grass wet with dew. A low-lying wispy fog layered the ground in hit-and-miss fashion.

  I covered my mouth and yawned.

  “You should go back to bed. I can see myself off to work,” Gibson said.

  “No. I want to have breakfast with you. I won’t get to see you again until tonight.” Part of me recognized the silliness of that particular argument, but the rest of me didn’t care.

  He squeezed me and we walked on in silence. The sun was only now rising and the birds and other wildlife began to stir. Between the quiet and the light fog, it seemed otherworldly on the estate that morning.

  We were nearing the big house when I noticed a figure materializing out of the fog. Whoever it was, he was wide and muscular. I soon recognized it was Toy.

  We greeted him, me a little self-consciously since it was obvious that Gibson had spent the night with me, what with him still wearing the white clothes from the night before.

  Toy didn’t appear fazed at seeing us together. Something did seem different about him, though, and I realized with a start it was because he was wearing street clothes, jeans and a t-shirt, running shoes. He had a big duffle bag slung over his shoulder.

  He looked at Gibson. “It’s back to the grind for me. Vacation’s over. Thanks for everything.”

  Gibson brushed aside his thanks, telling him that he was welcome any time. Toy told him Paulina had invited him to stay the next weekend. They shook hands, I said my goodbyes and Toy jogged off into the mist, heading for one of the estate’s garages to collect his car, I presumed.

  I knew that Toy had only been staying on the estate the past two weeks because he was on vacation, but I was going to miss him. It was going to be odd not having him loping about the place, half-naked and anxious to please. I wondered if he regretted having to leave, returning to the city and his job. He was a physical fitness trainer and it was diffic
ult to imagine him barking out orders to anyone, even paying customers.

  We didn’t meet anyone else on our way into the big house. We went upstairs to Gibson’s bedroom, where he promised to hurry if I wouldn’t join him in the shower. I swore I wouldn’t, and laughed, since we tried bathing at the cottage already that morning and it had only resulted in the need for another shower.

  I wandered around Gibson’s airy bedroom. He had a massive bed, with ornate ironwork on the headboard and footboard. I imagined him stretched out on that bed at night. I imagined myself beside him.

  The room’s decor was thoroughly masculine, though not obnoxiously so. I appreciated the rich colors and the look and smell of aged leather. In keeping with the rest of the mansion, the room was appointed expensively, but in a rustic way that maintained the aged villa look and feel.

  I trailed my hand over the patinated bureau on my way to the balcony. A pair of glass-paned doors opened onto a generous balcony that overlooked the rear of the estate. I walked up to the railing and looked down into the quaint courtyard underneath. The estate had a number of these closed courtyards that opened off of different rooms on the first floor.

  Looking further out, through gaps in the fog, I surveyed the damage on the south lawn. It appeared no attempt had been made yet to clean up the mess from the picnic. The canopies were still in place, with blankets and pillows scattered about underneath the shelters and onto the open lawn itself.

  I thought I could make out costumes tossed onto the pair of stages where Paulina held her tableaux vivants. Tables were loaded down with used glasses and plates and other items I couldn’t make out.

  What a mess. And no Toy around to make quick work of it. That stunk.

  I looked farther into the distance, toward Xavier’s and Paulina’s house. It sat on a small knoll, a fair distance from the big house, surrounded by ornate and bountiful gardens. Smaller than my cottage, Xavier and Paulina had designed and built their home themselves. They didn’t want a large house to take care of, so they kept the rooms to a reasonable number and size for two people who hosted the occasional guest.

  It was a jewel of a place, a three-sided affair with an elaborate courtyard in the center, an eccentric combination of ancient Roman and Spanish decor. Brightly-colored mosaics tiled the floors and in places even the walls. Fountains created by an artist friend graced the interior courtyard. And there were plants, of course, everywhere.

  I wondered what it looked like in the winter, and thought with a burst of happiness that I might be around to find out.

  I noticed some movement at the entryway of the house. It took a few moments, but I soon realized two people were moving down there, walking toward the big house. I thought it must be Xavier and Paulina.

  As they got closer, though, I realized it wasn’t them. No, these people were shaped all wrong and couldn’t be Xavier and Paulina. One person was tall, bulky, and walked with a big-man lumbering step, not ungraceful, but not smooth either. He couldn’t possibly be the refined, elegant Xavier.

  The other person was much shorter than the first, dainty I thought, definitely feminine in her walk. She couldn’t be Paulina though. Paulina was long and lean, tall and willowy. This person was womanly in form, curvy and ...

  Curvy. Hmm. And a big bulky man. Double hmm.

  I stared hard at the couple slowly making their way closer. Yeah. Sure enough. Brown hair. The man had a beard. Bingo. Guilty.

  It was Ron and Elaine Hoyte doing the walk of shame across the south lawn. Holy crap. They had spent the night at Paulina’s house.

  My first impulse was to let them get a little closer then yell down and invite them in for breakfast just to watch them squirm. Fortunately, I realized in time that I’d be giving away my own secrets if I did that. I ducked inside Gibson’s bedroom before they spotted me.

  I plopped down on a leather bench and covered my mouth.

  The Hoytes and the Martins. Oh, and Toy. Don’t forget Toy. The Hoytes, the Martins and Toy, together, all night long. How the hell, exactly, did that work? And did I truly want to know?

  I did want to know, actually, but in an abstract way, not in a nitty-gritty detail kind of way. I knew Xavier didn’t go for Toy, and I seriously doubted that Ron would. So that left Elaine bearing the burden of the submissive role with three dominants. Yikes. But she hadn’t ever said anything about being attracted to Xavier. And where did Toy fit into things?

  There was something wrong in a world where people so much older than myself had a wilder, more complicated sex life than I did. I thought I had been adventurous in the last few months, but around them, I was a fuddy duddy.

  When Gibson came out of the bathroom and was still in the process of drying himself, I told him who I spied on the lawn.

  He didn’t seem surprised. “I thought there might be something between them. But don’t jump to conclusions. They may have had too much to drink and weren’t safe to drive home.”

  “Oh,” I said, kind of disappointed at the possibility of an innocent explanation. “But let’s say that it wasn’t about drunk driving. Let’s say that a little something-something was going on. How do you suppose that works with the five of them?”

  Gibson grinned, then began pulling his clothes out of his bureau. “I have no idea.”

  “You said you thought there was something between them all. You must have an idea how a five-some works.”

  “A five-some?”

  “Is that not what it’s called?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Whatever. Come on, Gibson. Give it up.”

  He pulled on a pair of boxer briefs and I tried not to stare. “It’s whatever they say it is. Whatever they do, it’s up to them.”

  “Obviously. You know what I mean. Toy would kind of be on the outs, since only Paulina would want him. Ron, Xavier and Paulina might all want Elaine, while Elaine only wants Ron and Paulina as far as I know. Then there’s Paulina. She’s like the catnip in the whole thing. Everybody wants her. Toy and Elaine want her as a top. Xavier and Ron would want her as a bottom. I have no idea how that would work. And I’m feeling kind of bad for Xavier since it looks like only Paulina would want him, same as Toy, and that doesn’t seem any fair. Though wait, who wants Ron? Just Elaine? Oh man.”

  Gibson finished putting on an undershirt, then pulled on his socks before opening up a drawer and removing a neatly folded and starched white shirt. “Sounds to me like you’re working it out on your own and don’t need my opinion.”

  “Quit side-stepping.”

  He shook out the shirt and stuck his arm in a crisp sleeve. “I don’t know why you think I know what happened, or how it happened.”

  “Because you’re the experienced one. You’ve probably seen this kind of thing before.”

  He finished putting the shirt on and proceeded to button it up. “I haven’t, though.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Seriously.”

  “Wow. And you aren’t even a little surprised by it? You act like it’s nothing.”

  “I wouldn’t say it’s nothing, but it’s definitely not my business.”

  I watched him walk over to his massive closet, thoroughly distracted by the sight of him in shirt and briefs. “If you’re implying I’m nosy, you couldn’t be more wrong. But I can’t argue you out of it right now. Did you know you’re almost as sexy putting on your clothes as you are when you take them off?”

  He turned and looked at me. “I had no idea.”

  “Lucky you. It’s a morning of totally new concepts for you.”

  “You’re brave for someone who’s in constant danger of a spanking even when you’re not being an imp.”

  “You don’t have the time.”

  “I can always take the time.” He stepped toward me.

  I laughed and jumped behind the leather bench. “That’s okay. Not necessary.”

  He gave me a long-suffering look. “Fine. You’re safe, for now. However, you’ve brought up some interesting
points this morning that have me thinking of what I need to do with you.”

  I watched him return to his closet and step inside the huge room. “You can’t say something like that and leave it hanging, you know.”

  He grunted a muffled assent, then in a few moments came out of the closet with a pair of pants and a belt. He bent over to put them on. “Your education has been neglected and I intend to begin remedying that tonight.”

  “Oh, that’s kind of exciting.”

  “I’m glad you approve.” He buttoned and zipped his pants, tucked in his shirt, then strung the belt through the loops. “I’ll pick you up at your place at seven o’clock.”

  “Where are we going?”

  “It’s a surprise.”

  “What should I wear?”

  “Dress casually.”

  “Huh. Would that be ordinary people casual or rich tycoon casual?”

  “I wasn’t aware there was a difference.”

  “Rich tycoon casual it is then.”

  He returned to the closet and I heard him sliding hangers around. He came out in short order carrying a suit jacket and a tie. He stood in front of the mirror and flipped up his collar. I stepped forward, between him and the mirror.

  I took the tie from his hand. “I’ll do that.”

  He seemed pleased to pass the task off to me. I tossed the tie onto the bureau. He wore a bemused expression as he watched the tie fly through the air. “You’ll be needing that.”

  I reached for his belt buckle. “Yeah, but not yet.”

  He looked down at my fingers unbuckling his belt. I pulled the belt out of the loops and dropped it on the floor.

  I unbuttoned his pants, unzipped them, pushed them down over his hips.

  I knelt down on the thick rug, spread my fingers over his briefs, tracing the outline of the growing bulge underneath the cotton fabric. He flinched when I touched him and I heard his hissing intake of breath. I ran my fingers under the elastic waistband and looked up into his dark eyes.

  “I took your pants off,” I said, “so I could watch you put them back on. So sexy. Now that they’re off, though, I might as well have a taste or two. I hope you don’t mind.”