I say nothing because he isn't asking for a response. He continues to hold me down with one hand while his other moves between my legs. Two fingers curl inside of me and slide in and out with slow, agonizing strokes. He has me lifting on my toes for an altogether different reason than when he hit me with his belt.
"I want this," he says. "I want you at my mercy…whenever the fuck I want." He withdraws his fingers and I almost give a little whine, but stop when his index finger finds my clit.
Most men are clueless about the clit.
They struggle with what to do with it. They flick it. Push on it. Rub it raw.
Not my Tank.
He's a clit virtuoso.
The pad of his index finger presses over the sensitive bundle of nerves while he slides his middle and ring fingers back inside my pussy. I grind against him, needing him to move, to stroke me, to make me fly. Instead, he bites my ass…
Hard.
I give a little screech.
"Greedy sluts don't get what they want. You'll get what I give you, when I give it to you. Now, stop wiggling." He punctuates his words with a pinch to my clit.
Pain shoots through me, more surprise than anything else, then he follows with a little flick which has me seeing stars.
It's not enough to come.
I'm not quite there.
But I'm pretty damn close.
"Please…" I beg.
"Please, what?"
"Please let me come." It's impossible to keep my hips still and I grind against his hand.
He pulls just far enough away to let me know who is in control. I'm not going to get what I want unless he gives it to me.
He releases me and I stand on shaky legs. His foot moves between mine and gives a little nudge.
Obediently, I widen my stance which gives him better access to torment me.
"What's going on in that pretty head of yours?"
I'm about to answer when his finger glides across my clit and presses with just enough pressure that I come before I can think.
I ride his fingers, spiraling into oblivion, and come undone in his hands.
Breaths stagger out of me. I'm stupid drunk on pleasure and my entire world shatters into an explosion of shimmering light. I grip his hand, needing him to stop stimulating me as an orgasm rips me apart from the inside out, but Tank is relentless in what he wants.
I spiral, untethered, but he reels me back in. His touch grounds me, providing the anchor I desperately need, but then I fly again as he sends me back over the edge. My world tears violently into tiny pieces until I no longer exist.
The sounds coming from my throat are barely human and I gasp with the struggle to breathe. Tank stands behind me, a bastion of strength, while all the bits of my existence struggle to reform.
"S-s-sir!" I can barely speak. I forget how to breathe. My heart may or may not be beating.
But I know one thing.
I need him inside of me, stroking me, centering me, and helping me find my way back to him.
Tank knows what I need and there's no further need for words. The rasp of his zipper barely registers, but I feel the weight of his hand on my back pushing me down.
I collapse over his desk. My hands are somewhere above my head, pawing at the warm wood, while the flare of his cock presses against my wet heat.
Then he's there. Slamming forward. Stretching my walls. Filling me up.
There's a pinch of pain, but it's the overwhelming fullness which finally closes my lids. My entire body stills as his fingers clamp over my hips.
Then he begins to move.
In and out.
In and out.
All the tiny pieces of my existence, all the worries and fears, coalesce and come together. Like a beacon of light, I follow his lead. Heading toward his light, I find my center.
His breaths pulse in and out, chugging, as his hips rock forward and back. He begins slow, maybe knowing I need that time to find myself, but it doesn't last long. Tank is a man who likes to fuck. The harder the better, and as raw as he can have it.
The hard edge of the desk rams against my hips. It's a different kind of pain, something I can ignore. My entire existence narrows to a sliver. It's me and him. Nothing else matters.
The intensity of his fucking increases. He's no longer concerned about me. This is all about him chasing his pleasure and seeking release inside the woman he loves.
And he does love me.
I know this in every fiber of my soul. This man adores me. He worships me.
He's in love with me.
Chapter 8
Tank's breaths come in short, staccato bursts. Huffing in and out, he slams his dick in me then slowly pulls out, only to repeat the process again.
It's violent, hard, and deep.
And I'm right there with him. My insides tighten and my body shakes.
I come with a long, keening cry, almost whimpering, as pleasure rakes along every nerve in my body. Like a wet noodle, my body simply gives up.
I'm spent, satiated, and floating in bliss.
Tank is right there with me. Moments after I come, his body gives a series of jerks as he releases inside of me.
Then he collapses on top of me. The cotton of his shirt scratches against the tender skin of my ass. The heat of his body covers my back. The sultry scent of him floods my senses as he jerks my head to the side. Positioning me where he wants me, he covers my lips with his.
The kiss is slow but determined.
He claims me with his mouth, tangling our tongues together as he sweeps in deep. Tiny nibbles to my lips turn to delicious nips as he moves his kisses from my lips to my tender earlobes.
Kisses, nips, licks, and gentle sucks have me squirming beneath him because this is my ticklish spot and he damn well knows it. I can't help but squirm beneath him. His laugh is deep and powerful, satisfied and cocky as hell.
"Damn but I love you." He sweeps his hands up to cuff my wrists. His hands are so large they swallow mine and I find myself shackled in his powerful grip.
With a low growl, he nuzzles my neck. "I'll never have my fill of you."
I allow my lids to flutter open, but I can't really see him.
"If only I could live my life inside of you." His cock gives a little jerk inside of me.
We're still connected as he lifts the weight of his body off mine. One arm hooks around my waist and he pulls me up until my back presses against his chest. The movement breaks our connection and his cock slips out. I feel its long length against my ass as I lean against Tank's chest. My hands move down, finding his wrists, and I pull his arms into a cage around me.
"God, but I love you." I speak the truth.
We stand there for what seems forever. I breathe in through my nose, filling my senses with the scent of him. His arms relax but I'm not ready for our connection to end. Tank shifts his weight. I brace for the chill of his absence, but then my entire world tilts as he takes me into his arms.
On strong and sturdy legs, he carries me to the couch and lowers me down. I'm cradled in his lap with his arms still folded around me. It's not something I expect and I look up at him, brows pinched together with a question. I'm about to speak, but he presses the pad of his thumb against my lips.
"Shh…lean on me, my sweet girl. Let's sit for a moment."
His fly is down and his cock is still out. It's softening but still very prominent. My panties are…somewhere, and I'm very aware of my short skirt with nothing on underneath. If someone walks in on us, there's no doubt what they will see.
I wriggle a little, but Tank grips my hip.
"Don't move." He shifts me in his lap and leans back to a more comfortable position. "Let's sit for a minute. I need to feel you."
My Dom is a gentle man, but it's a side he never shows the outside world. I may be the only person in the world ever to see this side of him.
"You shaved for me." He says it with a chuckle.
"Waxed. Do you like it?"
"Uh-huh…sl
icker than I'm used to. I can't wait to feel you against my mouth. It's been too long since I've tasted you."
I don't think it's been that long. We fuck all the time, but I can't keep a smile from filling my face.
"I want to taste you." I peek up at him and notice his expression. He wants that.
Me on my knees.
His dick buried in my mouth.
There's something about being on my knees, his cock shoved deep into my mouth, which hits me in all the right spots. I love being able to serve him like that. I'm not the only one who needs release from the burden of my thoughts.
Tank's job is intense. The amount of money he manages makes my mind go fuzzy. He manages my money and I'm happy to have him do it. I make enough in interest and dividends to live off my investments.
I think.
I'm not really sure anymore. I gave Tank control of my finances a few years ago, and since moving in with him he refuses to let me pay for any of our living expenses. I have a credit card I use to buy what I need. There's an account that pays off the balance. That's the extent of how I manage my life. Other than that?
Tank manages all the little details.
I snuggle against him and play with his tie. I'm strangely content.
While I'm absorbed with his tie, he threads his fingers in my curls and combs out the tangles.
"You said you made a list?" His words pull me up short because it's not what I expect.
"I did."
"And?" He sounds inquisitive, but I sense this is simply a stepping stone to what he really wants to discuss.
"Do you want to see it?" The long column of Cons concerns me. I'm afraid to let him see the one lonely entry in the Pro column.
"No." There's no hesitation in his response.
"You don't?"
"If you want me to look at it I will, but I really wanted you to think about what we can become."
"What if I'm happy with where we are?"
"Are you?" He doesn't sound convinced. "Are you happy with where we are? Or are you worried about where we might go?"
It takes a moment. "I've never really thought about it that way." I slip my finger between the buttons of his shirt and play with the soft cotton of his undershirt. I draw little circles trying to distract myself.
"I want you to consider things from a different angle. We're great. You and I have a connection few people find in life. We fit together like two perfect pieces of an imperfect puzzle. Many would be jealous of what we have."
"Is it not enough?" I pull away so I can look at him. I need to see the expression on his face.
"It can be. I'm happy. I'm content. This…" he makes a vague gesture encompassing the two of us curled around each other, "It's perfection."
It is perfect, yet he wants to change it.
"Why do you want to be my Master?"
I don't think I've ever asked him directly. He's been pushing for this, telling me his desire, but never really explaining the reasons why.
Why have I never asked before?
Because I'm afraid?
"Because I want this. I could ask you why you don't want to be my slave."
"This?" I ignore the second half of what he says.
"Yes…this."
"I don't understand. We already have this."
What is this?
I'm struggling to understand.
"We have love, trust, and the need to explore our darkest fantasies." His tone is calm, even, and displays far more control than I exhibit. "You crave discipline. You love when I dominate you. I see what it does for you, how it makes you glow from the inside out. You're not content with what most consider a normal relationship. I've played with different levels of domination with you. When I pull back, when I don't force control, you whither before me. When I'm strong, demanding, and resolute in my position of authority, you flourish."
That can't be true.
And yet, when I think about it, I can see his hand at work.
Like any relationship, ours ebbs and flows. We struggle and thrive. There are ups and downs, but we ride those highs and lows together; always together.
Can it be?
I push against his chest and take a long hard look at him.
"Have you been experimenting with me?"
"I wouldn't call it experimenting. I'm simply trying to find a balance."
"A balance?"
"Are you questioning me?"
"That depends. Do I have that right?"
"You always have that right."
"Do I? As a slave, I don't. I have no rights."
He huffs a laugh. "Is that what you think?"
Maybe I don't understand what it means to be a slave, but that's exactly what I think. I kind of see the whole slave and Master thing as a very black and white proposition. Complete and total surrender means he can do whatever he wants, whenever he wants. Where does that leave me?
Who wouldn't find that terrifying?
He lifts me off his lap and I kind of flop on the couch beside him. Standing, he tucks his dick back inside his pants. "I would think you'd have more faith in me. After everything we've been through…I expect more from you."
I can't help the anger brimming inside of me. It spouts out of me, spewing forth with vitriol and an anger I shouldn't direct at him.
But I do.
I open my mouth when I should keep it shut tight.
"What the fuck, Tank?"
Chapter 9
Those are the kind of words which most definitely land me over his lap. Tank doesn't tolerate cussing and he hates any kind of back talk.
I'm really surprised when he doesn't yank me off the couch and plant me over his knee. My mouth gapes when he walks away. With his back to me, he stares out at the skyline. It's a breathtaking sight, but he's not admiring the view.
I count the deep intake of his breaths, certain he's slowly counting to ten. In all our years together, he's never struck me in anger. Tank is better than that.
He's a man who knows his strength and the vulnerabilities of those smaller than him. As an ex-prizefighter, one misplaced punch given in anger is something I don't want to contemplate. I give him space while we both collect our thoughts.
He has been experimenting on me. The man admitted it to my face.
But is what he said true?
Do I flourish beneath his rule?
Maybe I've been sending him mixed signals? It's possible.
Which means this mess is mine to clean up.
I unfold my legs, rising from the couch, and go to him.
His entire body stiffens as I draw close. He doesn't turn away. Instead, he stands like granite. His gaze cuts across the distance. Maybe he's lost in thought? Maybe he's counting to twenty again as he reels in his anger. I don't know.
From behind him, I wrap my arms around his waist and lean against his powerful back.
"I'm sorry." I press my cheek against his back and grip him tight around the waist. "Is it my fault? Have I been sending the wrong signals?"
He grips my hand and pulls me around in front of him. Rather than spinning me to face him, he pulls me against his chest so we're both looking out over the city.
"You have enough trust in yourself to take the necessary step. This is why I want the auction. I want you to let go. Maybe by giving up a little control, you can set your bids and let fate decide how long we explore the possibility."
"Will you be upset if you don't meet any of my bids?"
I set the reserve amount on my time. If I want, I can set one night of my time in the millions.
Tank is generous to a fault, but there are limits to what's available for his charitable contributions. I can rig the auction if that's what I choose.
It's what a loser would do. And it would be a wasted opportunity for the women's shelter. They'd lose out on a significant contribution.
I'm kind of stuck. Whatever price I place on my time needs to be fair. Not that I'd be the first woman on auction night who walked away unclaimed.
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In my deepest heart, I don't want that. Which means I will be his slave for at least a night.
But a week?
A month?
A year?
I shiver at the thought. I can't do any of those, but I can survive a night.
"I hope you value us as a team to not have that happen." His arms tighten around me. "Do you see that out there?"
I'm not sure what he wants me to see. I see the skyline of a beautiful city. High-rises mix with shorter structures. The architecture of our city is award worthy.
"It's beautiful." I settle for something that can be interpreted a thousand ways.
"I want to have that with you. To have you by my side forever is what I want, and I'm not upset with you. Your worries and concerns are valid and what kind of man would I be if I dismissed them? What kind of Dom would I be if I didn't value your opinion?"
I hear what he's saying. The next thing, in that string of thought, would be what kind of Master would he be. It's a good question and I know the answer.
I feel it in my bones as it seeps in to touch my soul.
Tank will be a magnificent Master. I just need to let him lead.
"I've come to a decision," he announces. "And I think it's for the best."
"You have?"
His voice rumbles over my shoulder and I glance at his faint reflection in the glass. His brows pinch together and his lips thin into a resolute line.
"I think you need to pull out of the auction tonight. This is something we're not ready for. I don't want to pressure you into doing something because you fear it will upset me, or disappoint me, or worse."
"But Katy…"
"Will understand. Out of everyone, she'll understand. Our time will come, or it won't. Regardless, what we have right now is pretty damn perfect. I want to watch the sun set with you in my arms, not just tonight but for all the nights which follow. That is more important than any of the rest. You're my life."
I don't want to believe him, but there's an honesty about Tank that can't be denied. He's never one to beat around the bush, or speak in riddles. With him, you get what you get. Or rather, I get exactly what he says.
But to back out of the auction?
It's really funny, but that fills me with dread. Not because of any concerns I have with Tank. I believe what he says. He's not a man to bullshit and he's never said something to me he didn't believe just to save my feelings.
Michelle: The Ties That Bind (Auction Night Book 3) Page 5