Reading His Submissive

by Brandi Evans

  The porch lights were still on so she could see all the way along the deck as it stretched back and eventually transitioned into a pier. The pier butted up to the water and what she assumed was his houseboat; she could only see an outline of the vessel in the darkness.

  And there was Buddy, curled up in his doghouse. The doghouse was nice too, built to match the cabin. Sure, Carter didn’t have a dog.

  She stepped onto the deck and back into the warm scent of honeysuckles. “This place must be a major babe magnet.”

  “I honestly wouldn’t know.” The sound of keys dropping on the counter made her turn. “I don’t bring women home.”

  He what?

  He couldn’t have stunned her more if he’d pulled out his taser and shot her. He didn’t bring women home, and yet, she was here. Her presence in his space meant something. She meant something to him, but she didn’t want to let herself ponder the implications, nor did she want to ruin the beauty of the moment by saying something incredibly stupid. Instead, she sauntered back in his direction.

  “Would you like a drink?” he asked, not making eye contact, as if he’d realized only too late what he’d said and the implication those words had had—and he knew she knew it, too.

  “Not really,” she answered.

  Why take a downer like alcohol when she was riding so high?

  “There is something I want though.” She stepped squarely into his personal space, drew her lips over his, and then pushed onto the counter beside him. “But it’s not in the food or beverage department, although I’m pretty sure I’ll need something to drink afterward.”

  “I’d consider it a personal failure if you didn’t.” He stepped between her splayed legs, hooked his hands behind her knees, and yanked her against his hard body and rapidly growing erection.

  She draped her arms around his neck, leaned in, but pulled up short of lip-to-lip contact. “Did you have something specific in mind, Sir?”

  A shiver played over him. “I fucking love when you call me that.”

  “Good to hear, Sir, because—”

  He didn’t let her finish; he took her lips and subdued her tongue in record time.

  Wrapping her legs around his waist, she held him as firmly between her thighs as she did her arms. If she held him hard enough, could she burn away all the shadows surfacing from her past?

  She broke their kiss and nipped her way along his jaw to his ear. “Not that I want to close the house up again, because the sultry night air feels almost as good on my skin as your touch, but I don’t want to give your neighbors a peep show either.”

  “What neighbors?”

  Good point. No one was around for miles, but apparently, Carter understood her need for increased privacy.

  “Alexa, turn off main lights,” he said.

  Alexa did her thing, and they were plunged into darkness, save for a solitary light coming from a floor lamp on the far side of the room. The soft glow was enough she could make out his outline but not too much more.

  “Better?” he asked.

  “Perfect, Sir.”

  “Good.”

  He unzipped her dress, and the straps fell from her shoulders and the material pooled around her waist. Her bra followed quickly, and he covered her naked breasts with his hands and pinched her hard nipples.

  “Sir.” Instinctually, she tightened her legs around him, gaining leverage, and arching to increase the contact, both her sex against his cock and to give him more unfettered access to her breasts.

  Sir didn’t disappoint. He nipped his way along her neck to her collarbone. He followed the delicate bone to the center of her chest and kissed his way down, down, down her torso.

  She wound her fingers into his hair as the first brush of his lips grazed over an erect nipple, and she pressed a kiss to the top of his head. How was he able to arouse so much in her with such a simple act?

  He switched breasts, running his hands up her thighs and under the hem of her dress. In one flick of the wrist, he bypassed the material of her lacy panties, pushed the material aside, and drew his fingers through her labia.

  “Such a wet, little pussy,” he mumbled, her nipple still caught between his teeth.

  She chuckled. “Like you wouldn’t believe, Sir.”

  “That so?”

  “You’re more than welcome to check for yourself, Sir.”

  “Oh, I was planning to, just not at this moment.” He stepped back and extricated himself from her grasp. “Hop down and get on your knees, pet.”

  She still hated that word—pet—but she loved the dominance in his voice when he said it, the way it weaved through every aspect of his expression.

  Shadows played over him, painting him with an element of foreboding sweetness she was quickly coming to adore—probably more than she wanted to admit. He would, after all, ultimately break her heart; all men did. But for now, she wanted to give herself to him willingly and without hesitation.

  Heartbreak was tomorrow’s problem.

  Legs and arms trembling, she pushed from the counter. Her dress tumbled to the ground, and she lowered to her knees. Even without restraints, with only his words, his presence, and the look on his face, he held so much power over her it should scare her. He’d looked at her like this at the club, but here, another layer was present, there but undecipherable.

  “Sit on your hands,” he ordered as he pinched her chin between his thumb and forefinger, holding her so she couldn’t turn away. “I don’t bring subs home, so my options for restraints are a bit limited. I don’t like using my work cuffs because they’re not lined, and I don’t think you’d be comfortable with me using my belt.”

  A strike of emotion flashed inside her. Despite his direct words, an element of intimate knowledge bubbled up and spoke to her. No belts. He’d remembered her preferences—and respected them.

  “Thank you, Sir.”

  He bent at the waist, pressed a gentle kiss to her lips, but said nothing. Not that he had to. The slow, deliberate way he removed his shirt and popped the button of his jeans spoke volumes to what he was feeling.

  Something he’d said to her during their last time together at the club screamed in her head…

  Yeah, that’s what I’ll do first. With your body bound open to me, I’ll paint my pre-cum on your lips and only when you’re shaking and begging for my cock will I finally slide deep into your mouth. I won’t stop until I reach the back of your throat.

  And damn it, she was past ready for his cock to be inside her. After all the playing they’d done, all the orgasms he’d given her, and not a damn one of them had been with his cock. That shouldn’t be physically possible and yet…

  He wrenched his zipper down, one tooth at a time. The act took forever, and by the time he pushed his jeans aside far enough to free his erection, her mouth was watering. She drew her lower lip between her teeth. Wanting someone this much wasn’t healthy, was it?

  Index finger to her chin, he tilted her head up and stepped into her, dick in hand. “Don’t move a muscle, pet. Do I make myself clear?”

  She nodded frantically. “Yes, Sir.”

  “Good. Now, open your mouth.”

  Carter’s dick went painfully hard as Genny’s lips formed the sweetest “O” he’d ever seen. He had to fight the urge to lose himself in her body. This was about more than sex. No point in lying to himself. She did something to him he couldn’t explain, but having her on her knees, mouth open, was not the time for him to ponder what that something was.

  Stroking his length a few times, he drew a bead of precum to his tip and carefully, like he was painting a masterpiece, eased his glans over her bottom lip. His eyes had adjusted enough to the darkness for him to make out the iridescent liquid as it sparkled on her lips, and if possible, his dick hardened more.

  She exhaled a long groan, and her eyes rolled back in her head. If this wasn’t a sign she wanted him, he didn’t know what was.

  He painted her top lip; he had to hold himself back from p
lunging deep. He doubted he’d last long once he was inside her, and he wanted to make this good for her. She’d been dealt such a shitty hand in life. He couldn’t change any of it, but he could make this a night she’d never forget.

  A night neither of them would forget.

  “You’re being such a good girl,” he murmured. “I think you’ve earned some cock, emphasis on some.” Leaning forward, he choked up on his dick, so she couldn’t access more than his glans. “Here ya go.”

  She flicked the tip of her tongue over the slit on his tip. Each stroke grew in intensity and duration until, at last, she completely enclosed his glans between her lips.

  “Now, don’t move,” he said as he cradled the back of her head with his free hand. “Not a single muscle.”

  Releasing his cock, he pressed deeper into her mouth. He didn’t go over safewords with her; after two classes and years working at Restrained Fantasies, she knew the rules. He had faith in her.

  Bringing his other hand to the back of her head, too, he kept pushing forward, listening to her intakes of breath, feeling the way she tensed, reading every aspect of his sub. He wanted to push her boundaries, but he didn’t want to push her too far, too fast.

  Her eyelids fluttered closed, and a look of fierce determination seized her. She was fighting herself to take him deeper, and he fucking loved it.

  “Breathe, pet,” he murmured. “Breathe.”

  Her shoulders rose, hitched a little at the top, and then lowered again.

  “Very good.” He cupped her chin and tilted her face up as gently and as far as he could, considering their positions. And almost came right then and there.

  An intense vulnerability painted her expression. It was a look he’d seen on many a sub before her, but with her, he had so much more to unwrap. Along with the vulnerability, trust was there, too, and given her tragic history, he was sure trust wasn’t something she gave easily.

  But she’d given it to him.

  Freely.

  And without asking for anything in return.

  She was fucking slaying him.

  “Dear, god, Genny. Do you have any idea how sexy you look with my dick in your mouth?”

  Pleased.

  It was the best word he could conjure to describe the new expression settling on her face.

  “On your feet,” he said as he yanked his dick free.

  A bit dazed, she complied.

  As she moved, he kicked his shoes and jeans free, eliminating what clothing remained between them, and then tugged her to the table. A floor lamp sat in the corner a few feet away, allowing him a spectacular view of her creamy, tattoo-decorated skin.

  “Lie on your back and spread your legs,” he ordered. “Wide. And make sure your head’s hanging off the edge of the table. I don’t want any part of you inaccessible.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  She got into position while he plucked her panties from the floor. The delicate strip of fabric wouldn’t make the perfect pair of restraints, but he needed something.

  He pressed a quick kiss to her swollen lips before taking her hands and crossing her wrists at her lower belly, just over her mons. He looped the material around her wrists and secured it as best as he could.

  “Finger your clit,” he ordered as he manually extended her fingers and peeled her labia apart. “Like you told me you do when you get yourself off.”

  “Sir?”

  “You heard me.” He wove his fingers between hers and drew the pads of their fingers in a circular motion over her distended clit, instantly making her shiver. “I want to see you give yourself an orgasm while you’re sucking my cock. I want this pretty little pussy drenched when I finally slide inside it. Do I make myself completely clear?”

  “Y-yes, Sir.”

  “Good.” The hitch in her answer made him smile. She was already close which was good because so was he.

  He pulled his hand free, happy to see her obeying his command. She swirled her fingers over her clit, faster than he would have imagined. Was she closer than he’d anticipated? He fucking hoped so. The sooner she came, the sooner he could make her come again, this time with him right there with her.

  Leaving her to play with herself, he stepped to his left so he was standing at her head, and tapped his dick to her mouth. “Open up.”

  She obeyed.

  He didn’t take his time this go around; he shoved in nice and deep and started pounding.

  Her entire body tensed at the invasion. Had she ever been taken like this? Giving a blowjob was one thing; taking one was an entirely different beast altogether. It was riding in a rocket as opposed to being strapped to the fuselage.

  Her feet came off the table, and her back arched. However, she never stopped stroking her clit. A sub’s constant self-pleasuring, he’d long ago discovered, was vital. So long as his subs were pleasuring themselves, they were okay.

  “Good girl,” he crooned, palming her breasts and pinching her nipples as he fucked her mouth faster. He took great care not to ram too deeply, which was a fucking shame. She had a fantastic mouth. He could fuck it all day and never grow tired.

  Her legs straightened again, but she immediately pulled them back and planted her feet on the wooden surface.

  He hooked his hands behind her knees and pulled her legs back and wide, so she was splayed open before him. Giving her a better angle to stroke herself while giving him a spectacular view of everything.

  The creamy skin covered in tattoos.

  Her soft curves in the moonlight.

  The frantic movement of her hand as he rammed into her mouth over and over and over.

  Fuck!

  His balls tightened and drew in toward his body. He was so close to blowing he—

  Her right leg jerked out of his grasp. Oh, fuck yeah, he knew what that signaled. Releasing her other leg, he leaned forward, knocked her hands out of the way, and fingered her clit himself.

  Fast.

  Hard.

  Unforgiving.

  Never stopping his frantic thrusts into her mouth, he stroked her clit until every muscle in her body went taut and froze. She laid suspended in the moment before ecstasy; only then did he pull his cock free and focus all his efforts on getting her off.

  “Sir!” she screamed, her body convulsing so intensely she writhed on his kitchen table. God, she was fucking incredible when she came—and he’d made her this way.

  The breeze picked up, caressing her body and playing with her hair as she continued shaking apart. Would he ever tire of making her come? Doubtful. Her sweet mewls. The soft “O” of her lips as pleasure-soaked sounds tumbled free. The need she created deep inside him.

  The need to join her in pleasure.

  The need to possess her, body and soul.

  He was wholly and royally fucked.

  When her convulsions slowed, he grabbed her by the hips and rolled her onto her stomach. Bent over the table, feet on the ground, torso flat against the hard surface, she didn’t move, didn’t protest. She laid there, breathing heavily as he yanked his jeans from the ground, dug his wallet from his back pocket, and fished out the condom he always kept tucked inside.

  He wasted no time ripping into the foil package, rolling the rubber into place and positioning his glans at her entrance. He was far too impatient to take the time to move her to the bedroom. They’d get there, but for now, his need to finally, fully claim her came first to everything else. Left palm pressing flat against the table, he thrust forward, and in one frantic motion, joined their bodies.

  “Fuck,” he said with a long groan. She was scorching hot and so wet he almost lost control.

  Gathering her into his arms, he tugged her pliable body upright, against his, and into a fierce bear hug. And started pounding.

  “Sir.” The word was a murmured sigh which only made him hold her tighter, force away any remaining space between them, physically as well as emotionally.

  “Come for me again,” he said, his breaths coming out in puffs agai
nst her neck. “Come for me, pet. I want to feel your pussy spasming around my cock while I’m coming.”

  “Yes, Sir. More, Sir. Harder…”

  He gladly gave her everything she begged for—and then some.

  Keeping one arm locked around her middle, he pushed his hand down her body until he found her clit. He trapped the distended bud between the tips of his index and middle fingers and squeezed. He pushed on the bud in a downward motion, catching it between his fingers and his unforgiving cock.

  “Oh god, yes!” Her body twitched, a spectacular primer he was rapidly growing attached to.

  He almost had her. He only had to hold on a few more moments.

  “Genny,” he whispered. “You have no idea how crazy you make me. I think about you every minute of every fucking day. I crave you, Genny Malek.”

  And she was gone.

  His name tore from her lips, and she convulsed in his arms. Her release gave him the final push he needed. Wrapping both arms securely around her middle and burying his face against her neck, he let himself go. He came on a hot rush, filling the condom as her cries filled his ears. He’d never felt more complete in his life.

  Or more broken.

  Chapter 7

  They’d fucked on his table, and now, they were eating on his bed. If this wasn’t ass-backward, Raven didn’t know what was.

  After nearly orgasming her into a coma, he’d carried her to his bed. He coaxed a little water into her and held her while she’d come back to earth. And then, when she had regained a modicum of sanity, he’d given her one of his Dallas Cowboys T-shirts to wear and made her a sandwich and one of his favorite citrus smoothies. She hadn’t realized quite how hungry she’d been until the orange and pineapple concoction had touched her taste buds.

  They’d followed the nutrient-dense meal with some cookies and ice cream. She wasn’t hungry anymore, but she had to admit she found feeding him immensely erotic.

  A scar on his left pec caught her attention. This was the first time she’d seen him shirtless in the light, so she’d never noticed it before. It looked fucking lethal.