Defiance

by Cherise Sinclair

  She settled cross-legged in the center.

  After stripping, he sat behind her, so close his hard erection pressed against her buttocks. For a moment, far too short a time, he reached around her and played with her breasts, cupping and teasing them.

  She felt the haze of arousal settle around her.

  He chuckled. “Sorry, kitten, that was just for my own enjoyment. Before I started.”

  “Started?”

  “You’re all tensed up.” After squirting lotion into his palms, he began to massage her shoulders. Her neck. Her arms. His hands were strong and warm.

  As her body loosened up, she realized how stiff she’d been. Not surprising, what with plane flights, waiting rooms, and facing down an annoyed Master.

  His fingers hit a knot, dug in painfully, and then all the muscles around it relaxed and warmth flooded that area. “Oooh.”

  Z’s low chuckle filled her ears.

  As the air filled with the scent of citrusy vanilla, he murmured, “Mmm. I like this fragrance on you.”

  The minute she’d sniffed it in the salon, she knew it would appeal to him.

  When his hands moved away from her back, the temperature in the room rose. His warm, slightly callused palms slid silkily over her breasts to tease her nipples back to hard points.

  Low in her body, a molten pool began to form.

  Her breasts were tight and achingly swollen when his stroking moved down to her stomach.

  When her head cleared enough that she could move, she turned to kneel, facing him. After getting her own squirt of lotion, she ran her hands over his hard muscled arms.

  Looking up, she caught her breath. His gray eyes were the color of steel, filled with a devastating confidence…and heat.

  Desire simmered in her bloodstream. Slowly, she traced the divide in his biceps and triceps, avoiding the healing wound on his deltoid. Her fingertips moved down the contoured line between his pectorals, each ridge of his abdominal muscles.

  Smiling slightly, he rose to his feet and gave her a look. Proceed.

  Still on her knees, she leaned forward to kiss the hollow at the angle of his hip and groin. And then she closed her mouth over him.

  She heard his low inhalation. He let her enjoy herself for far too brief a time, then gripped her hair. Taking control from her. “Hands behind your back.”

  Her whine was an audible protest.

  The sound of his deep masculine laugh filled her with need.

  He was thick and hot as he moved in and out. As her tongue traced the veins, the rougher dent on the underside.

  Her head controlled; her hands behind her back; submission and desire. Her body seemed to be melting into the floor.

  “There, now, that’s enough, kitten.”

  * * * * *

  Pulling himself out of her warm mouth, Zachary settled in front of her on one knee. Because he needed to touch her.

  Looking at her, he smiled. Her lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed with arousal. Her breathing was faster.

  After taking more lotion, he ran his hands over her, simply enjoying all those lush curves. He paused. Her skin was incredibly soft. More slowly, he stroked his palms over her back, her ass, her legs. Silky smooth. Someone had utilized the salon’s services. “Mmm. Very nice, kitten.”

  She smiled at him, delighted he was pleased.

  After a quick kiss, Zachary cupped her breasts to savor the succulent weight. Her pale pink nipples tightened into hard buds.

  When she’d been breastfeeding Sophia, her breasts were heavier, the areolas darker and larger. After weaning, her size had slowly changed back. Now, the nipples were lighter and smaller again. Her breasts had grown a bit softer with a slight sag, which she’d complained about adorably.

  Soon they’d grow again for the new babe.

  He couldn’t imagine any size or shape where he wouldn’t want to have his hands on her.

  “Stand up and spread your legs,” he said softly.

  She did.

  He watched the color rise from her upper chest into her face as he curved his hands around her hips and used his thumbs to open her labia, exposing the clit. A tremor ran through her as he leaned forward, licked the pink nub—and held her in place.

  “Z…”

  Ah, she knew better. He nipped an outer fold in reprimand, receiving a more pleasing, “Master!” before enjoying himself a little longer.

  In fact, he didn’t stop until her clit was swollen and hard…and her knees started to buckle.

  Rising, he turned her toward the door. “On the bed, on your back. Legs open, hands over your head.”

  Her eyes were wide.

  Yes, it had been a while since they played in the way they both enjoyed.

  Since a delay would only increase her anxious anticipation, he went into the bathroom and took the time to shave off the day’s worth of beard-growth. Although he often enjoyed being territorial and marking her with beard burn, they still had to make an appearance at the memorial tonight.

  He’d settle for leaving his handprints on her ass instead.

  A glance at the gauze dressing on his side showed it was still dry. The wound was a dull ache—nothing that would slow him down. Good enough.

  When he walked into the bedroom, the lights had been dimmed, and a beautifully naked blonde lay stretched out on his bed. Fingers laced together, her arms formed a circle above her head. Her lips and cheeks held the glowing flush of excitement. Her nipples were tightly pebbled, the tips a darker pink.

  Obediently, she’d parted her legs, exposing a perfectly bare pussy that glistened with her arousal. Yes, she’d been thinking of what would happen as she waited.

  “You really are beautiful.”

  Her eyes lit. In spite of how often he told her, she always looked surprised.

  As he walked to the bed, her gaze dropped to his rigid erection. Amusement tilted his lips. She wasn’t the only one who was impatient for what was to come.

  But he’d make them both wait while he dealt with one unresolved matter. Because he had a cruel streak at times.

  Stretching out on his left side, he propped himself up on his elbow while angling his forearm so he could set a hand over her laced fingers and pin her in place.

  Her eyes widened as she tested his grip and realized she was trapped.

  Was there any Dom in the world who didn’t enjoy the first quivering response of a submissive?

  Bending down, he kissed her, feeling her lips soften and open to him. Everything, body and soul, lay open to him.

  Z’s kiss was slow and thorough, and Jessica realized his hand was cupping her breast.

  When he pinched her nipple, rolling the peak between his fingers, she wanted—needed—to move, but his other hand kept her arms trapped over her head.

  Submission. Her body was on an elevator, sinking downward, all the way to subterranean levels.

  Still holding her hands down, he kissed her neck, her collarbone, and bent to suck on each nipple in turn. His free hand stroked over her lower belly and between her legs, sensitizing her clit, her entrance.

  She was slick with arousal…and squirming with need.

  When he lifted his head, her wet nipples puckered in the cool air of the room. His eyes were thoughtful as he regarded her silently.

  “What?” The question almost burst out of her.

  “I almost forgot. You deliberately came here, ignoring my orders that you stay home with Sophia.”

  “You’re going to discipline me because I made a decision based on the incomplete information you gave me rather than all the facts? Seriously?” Her head might explode.

  “Little one, if I’d told you everything, would you have obeyed me then?”

  Her mouth opened. Closed. Because…hearing he was in danger would have only strengthened her resolve to try to help. As long as her daughter was safe, she would have defied him and come here.

  And Master Z wouldn’t let her disobedience go unpunished.

  “I’
m screwed, aren’t I?” she said glumly.

  “You will be, pet. You’ll also be spanked.”

  “I think it’s just wrong to beat on the mother of your child.”

  “Do you?” he asked thoughtfully. Releasing her hands, he pulled them down to her sides as he sat up.

  When he didn’t yank her across his knees, she had a moment of hope. Was she actually going to win an argument? A D/s argument?

  Picking up the oversized pillow at the head of the bed, he set it on her pelvis, and rolled her on top of it. Her face lay against the mattress. Folding her arms across her low back, he secured them with one hand.

  The pillow had raised her butt in the air. Oh, God, she so hadn’t won.

  “Who better to beat on than the mother of my child?” He rubbed her bottom and began.

  After five light swats, a warm sting bloomed over her buttocks.

  “Spread your legs, little one.”

  A flush of humiliation warmed her face. How many years would she have to be married and submissive before she’d lose all her modesty? It sure hadn’t left her yet.

  His voice grew softer. “Now.”

  With a protesting moan, she opened her legs.

  His fingers slid over her wet pussy, drawing the moisture to her clit. Skillfully, he rubbed. Firmly. Softly. Circling. Stroking almost to her anus and back.

  Tormenting her until she was panting with the engulfing need.

  He spanked her again, harder, each blow a noisy slap against burning, stinging skin. Only she was so aroused the blows felt like hot caresses that zinged right to her clit and amped up her excitement as if he was playing with a rheostat.

  “Zeeeee. Please.” Her hips twisted. Lifted.

  “All right, pet.” Pushing her legs apart, he settled between them. His thighs were hot against hers as he pressed his cock against her.

  Cheek against the mattress, she panted in anticipation. Everything down there throbbed. Waited.

  He entered her with a teasing inch…and with a merciless thrust, impaled her on his cock.

  She gasped at the exquisitely painful, breathtaking feeling of being filled so full. Of being taken. As she strained to accommodate him, her interior walls pulsed a protest around the intrusion.

  “I have missed this.” His voice was deeper than normal. Harsh.

  “Whose fault is that? Sir.”

  “Bad submissive.” Chuckling, he swatted her bottom in a stinging reprimand.

  She yelped…and burst into giggles.

  “You’ve been associating with Gabi too often,” he murmured before gripping her hips and yanking her back onto his cock forcefully enough to make her gasp.

  There he stayed, deep inside her, as he pulled her upright onto her knees and leaned her back against him. He held her in place with a hand on her groin and one on her throat. As his warm hand curved around her neck, the slight pressure increased her sense of vulnerability, holding her immobile. His thick cock pulsed inside her as his fingers danced across her pussy.

  She lifted her arms to touch him, to entice him, to make him start thrusting. Something…

  The hand around her neck curled an infinitesimal amount tighter in warning. “Don’t move, little one. Not at all.” The finger circling her clit never slowed.

  Deep inside her, pressure coiled. Grew.

  Oh God. Poised on an excruciating edge, she shook with the need to come.

  He kept her there. With torturous slowness, he moved inside her even as he stroked her clit.

  “Please,” she whispered.

  “No.”

  Mercilessly, he continued until her muscles were drawn taut, her nerves screamed, her insides clenched around him.

  “Yes, that’s very nice.” Slowly, he pulled out almost all the way.

  And stopped. Stopped everything. With a steely grip on her throat, on her pelvis, he held her caged as she whimpered and shook with desperate need.

  Somehow, everything inside her gathered even tighter.

  Suddenly, his fingers slid and circled the very top of her clit. With one driving thrust, he buried his length.

  “Oh, God.” A quaking sensation rippled deep inside her, increasing more and more, until it burst outward in rippling waves of exquisite pleasure.

  “Mmm.” His voice was a pleased rumble in her ear as he bent her forward until her cheek pressed against the mattress. Her butt stayed up in the air.

  His hands closed on her hips, and he claimed her with merciless, pounding thrusts.

  Another climax rolled over her. Mind-shattering pleasure engulfed her, consumed her.

  He was deep inside her when his body went taut with the hot spill of his own release.

  Still inside her, he rolled them both onto their sides. Cheek against her hair, he whispered, “I love you, Jessica.”

  As he wrapped her tighter in his arms, she glowed with the bone-deep satisfaction of wonderful sex.

  And being loved.

  Chapter Eight

  Over the last hour, the hotel lounge that Zachary had rented for Mako’s wake had grown crowded. A gratifying number of military personnel, NCOs and officers, had stayed for the send-off. Toasts and speeches had been given. Stories had been shared. The formalities were over, but no one was hurrying to leave.

  The private lounge was a comfortable place to spend an evening, Zachary thought. Smaller than the public cocktail lounge, the room resembled an Alaskan fishing lodge with dark beams, hardwood flooring, antler chandeliers, and carved wood and leather furniture. Behind the mahogany bar, bottles of spirits alternated with trophy fish mounts. Across from the bar, a river rock fireplace with a rough-hewn mantel had a crackling fire. Guests had drawn near to bask in its warmth.

  No matter how comfortable the setting, he’d rather be in his suite, talking and making love to Jessica again.

  He was proud of her for braving his displeasure. For confronting him. And when he’d explained the trap for Weiss tomorrow, even though her face had gone pale, her voice was steady when she agreed a controlled setting would be safer.

  His Jessica was quite a woman.

  Earlier, he’d left her curled in bed, fragrantly warm and satisfied. Even as she insisted she’d attend the reception to support him, she’d fallen asleep. Lack of sleep, worry, pregnancy, and good sex had wiped her out.

  Smiling at the memory, he stopped by the bar to pick up a Glenlivet scotch, then continued through the lounge, checking that the hotel staff were on the job, and making introductions as needed to ensure the guests were mixing.

  In one corner, Bull was talking to a couple of generals who had good tales of when Mako’d been their drill sergeant.

  Near the center of the room, Cazador was being entertained by officers who’d had Mako as their first sergeant.

  Zachary smiled. No matter the rank, some sergeants were unforgettable, epitomizing everything the military stood for. He regretted not knowing Mako before he’d left the service.

  At the door, deVries and a hotel security guard barred entry until guests were checked against Weiss’s photo to ensure the lounge remained a no-shoot zone. DeVries had closed the window drapes, and made sure the door from the deck wouldn’t open from the outside. He’d even put a sign on the door: PLEASE USE LOBBY DOOR TO EXIT.

  Zachary had to admit it was a relief to let his guard down for a while.

  As he crossed the room, he noticed Mako’s oldest son had finally taken one of the oversized leather chairs. Bull and Cazador had been giving their brother increasingly worried looks.

  The man looked up and gave Zachary a half-smile. “Any more run-ins with your sniper?”

  “Let’s hope he’s smart enough to avoid rooms filled with military personnel.” Zachary eyed him. “Gabriel, are you even supposed to be out of the hospital?”

  “I’m not much for staying where someone puts me.”

  Zachary frowned. This son had gone into a mercenary outfit and had recently been in combat. Despite obviously being in pain, Gabriel had the hyper
vigilant and deadly air of someone still at war. “Cazador said you were wounded?”

  “A bit. Got me in the shoulder and hip.” Gabriel waved a hand at the couch across from him. “Join me if you want.”

  Zachary took in the drink in Gabriel’s hand, the pain lines on his face, and the haunted gaze—and he sat down. “I hope you’re not adding alcohol to pain medication.”

  A corner of Gabriel’s mouth drew up. “No, Doc. My last pain pill was at noon. I wanted to be able to drink my ass off, if needed.”

  “Good enough.” Zachary studied him for a moment. Along with the pain was evidence of a lack of sleep. Grief for Mako…along with…guilt?

  Gabriel motioned with his drink. “Your bodyguard mentioned your wife is here. Did I know you were married?”

  “Not only married, but we have a daughter. She’s one and a half.”

  Some of the lines on Gabriel’s face disappeared with his smile. “Approaching the terrible twos?”

  “God help us.” Zachary missed the imp more than he could express. “She can make you want to strangle her one moment and melt your heart the next. I wouldn’t—”

  “Look at this.” A striking redhead in a form-fitting blue dress stopped beside their sitting area. Her voice dropped to a sultry purr. “Here are two good-looking men sitting all by themselves. Alaska women should be ashamed.”

  Zachary eyed her. She didn’t appear to be military, didn’t look like one of the guests, really. In fact, he’d bet she was traveling for business and had gotten into the reception on the arm of one of the soldiers.

  As she started to sit down, Gabriel’s irritated shake of the head halted her. “Our Alaska women can tell when a man is hunting and when he’s not. Sorry, miss, but we’re not.”

  “Well, then.” Ignoring Gabriel, she ran an interested gaze over Zachary. “I’ll be at the bar if you change your mind.”

  Zachary watched her sashay away. “With that refusal to admit defeat, she probably does quite well in life.”

  “Maybe. Although it’s irritating as hell.” Gabriel lifted his beer. “A belated congratulations on your marriage and child.”

  “Thank you.” Zachary sipped his drink, enjoying the slow bloom of warmth and studying the man opposite him. Gabriel had been a reserved child. The adult was probably even more reticent. Nonetheless… “Can I ask how you got hurt? Mako said you and Hawk were with a mercenary outfit.”