Her lips curved. “He enjoyed teaching new subs, and he was very strict. No backtalk, only ‘Yes, Sir.’” Her smile grew at the thought of him. “I think I tested every limit he set, kind of like Jessica does.”
“And what did he do for punishment? Are any of those scars from him?”
“No, he never did anything to break the skin.” The thought would have appalled Master Chris. “Spanking, paddles. A flogger or cane once in a while. He embarrassed me once, and that was horrible.” She winced inside at the memory, and then added, “But I’ve done so much since then that I don’t embarrass easily.”
“That’s good to know,” he said. After setting his beer down, he lifted her onto his lap as if she didn’t weigh a pound. With unyielding hands, he leaned her back until her head rested on the arm of the couch, her body across his thighs, and her legs on the seat cushions. Her bustier flopped open, leaving her breasts pointing up in the air. After licking his finger, he ran it around her nipple.
Her face heated. What was he
“Good girl.” His voice warmed. He ran his big hand across her breasts and down her stomach in long, slow strokes as if petting a cat. “So, with the strict Dom, how often did you climax with him?”
“Every time. Sometimes even when I didn’t expect to.” She sighed. The happy memories felt so distant, glowing somewhere on the horizon, nowhere she’d ever be again.
“And with the bastard, how did you fare, orgasm-wise, with him?”
Somehow it was getting easier to talk with him, maybe because of his lack of reaction to whatever she said. Just that intense attention. His hand caressed her breasts. “At first, really good. And later, not at all.”
“As the pain got worse.”
“Yeah.” She breathed in and dared to ask, “So what happens tonight?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” he murmured. “I had a long day, and it feels good to get off my feet. I like having you stretched across me, offering me your breasts. And your mouth.” He bent to take her lips, harder than he had last week, taking possession, demanding her tongue back. He drew the kiss out, nibbling on her lips, before plunging back into her mouth. No hurry, no urgency. Just firm lips against hers, the plunge of his tongue, the slight scrape of his beard shadow.
Her body warmed as his scent engulfed her, soap and leather and a hint of masculine musk. His hands moved over her breasts slowly, massaging, circling the nipples. Then he took a peak between his fingers and sent jolts of pain/pleasure through her.
By the time he drew back, her breathing was ragged, and her hands were clamped onto his rock-hard biceps.
He glanced down at her pleated PVC skirt. “Nice skirt.” His hand ran up her leg, under the skirt. When he discovered the bikini briefs she wore, his brows drew together. “Lift your hips up.”
She did, and he yanked the briefs down to her knees. “Lift your legs.”
Acutely conscious of where they were, she raised her feet so he could slide the briefs off. She started to lower her legs.
“Leave your knees bent. And, Beth, don’t wear underwear to the club again. Am I clear?” The implacable gaze returned to her face.
“Yes, Sir.”
“Good. Any time I am not clear in my instructions, you are permitted to ask.”
She nodded and then froze when he flipped up her PVC skirt to expose her completely. She felt like a piano; his left hand playing with her breasts, and his right… His right hand moved up her leg and settled against her pussy.
“Sir, this isn’t a scene area,” she told him as if he didn’t know. This just wasn’t right. She glanced around to see if anyone-
“Keep your eyes on me, sub,” he said, pinching her nipple, and hot desire ran through her as if her breasts and clit were connected by high-voltage wiring. Lower down, her nerves flared to life as his sure fingers slid through her folds. When had she become wet?
His fingers circled her clit, never touching, and the nub began to throb. This was too much like last week. How did he do this to her?
With his left hand under her back, he lifted her, bringing her breasts up to his mouth. His right hand rubbed gently over the hood of her clit as his hot, wet mouth sucked her nipple. She trembled as hot need flared like lightning inside her, turning her insides molten.
His finger grazed over her clit, once, twice, and her core constricted.
He went back to stroking her folds.
“Open your legs farther.”
She didn’t want to, really didn’t want to. Her fear had disappeared, oddly enough, but lying across his lap felt wrong. Too intimate. Scene play was more focused and less personal, at least when she had her way. The Dom would be standing and doing stuff. She shouldn’t be sprawled half-nude on a Dom’s body.
“Beth.” He drawled with a faint southern accent, the warning clear.
She moved one leg. An inch.
As his brows drew together, her foot crept to the very edge of the couch cushion. And as the movement opened her slick folds under his hand, he pushed his finger into her, hard and fast.
“Aaah!” The nerves inside her flared to life for the first time in years. Shocked, she arched her back, and he bent his head to take her nipple in his mouth as if she’d offered her breasts to him. He bit gently on the tip.
The sharp stab of need sizzled all the way to her pussy, and she tightened around his finger. When he sucked on her nipple, the pulling sensation squeezed something deep inside her.
He slid his finger in and out of her vagina, and his thumb angled to slip over her clit. The rhythmic sensation was impossible to ignore, coordinating with his sucking and biting on her nipple. Tension coiled inside her as her body swept out of her control. Her entire lower half burned. Every touch sent her higher and higher. She grabbed his arm, her fingernails digging into his wrist, needing something, anything to hold on to.
He paused, and little mews of need escaped her. He started again, driving into her forcefully, his thumb directly on her clit. Her thighs trembled as her muscles stiffened and held. Another fierce plunge, another stroke of his thumb over her clit and the room sheeted to white, a fireball of sensation exploding inside her. Pleasure sizzled through her nerves.
His thrusts didn’t stop. As her hips bucked, his left arm turned to a vise around her, holding her for his touch as he wrung every last spasm from her.
Damn, she was a gorgeous sight when she came, Nolan thought, his hand over her pussy, his finger still deep inside her. As her eyelids fluttered shut, her muscles went flaccid. He’d known she was tense, but not how extreme it had been until now when the stiffness flowed right out of her. He bent to lick her nipples, soothing the red marks his small bites had created. Each time his tongue touched her, her pussy twitched around his finger.
There was nothing as fulfilling as having a woman come apart in his arms, and this little sub had badly needed to get off. And more. Her scream of release had echoed with pain. He’d breached the barriers she’d erected to keep people out.
He hadn’t expected she’d trust him enough to let go. Not yet. But she was submissive, through and through, and dominance, not pain, was her key.
Sliding his finger from her body won him a low moan and blinking eyes. “Sir?”
Well, now that felt good; her unthinking acknowledgement of his mastery even before her brain turned back on. He flipped her little skirt down and gathered her up so her head rested against his chest. Her breath created a warm spot on his T-shirt.
Over the background noise in the club, he heard footsteps approach. Z stopped in front of the couch, a subbie blanket over his arm.
Nolan grinned and nodded, thinking that the Shadowlands owner should be called
