I was going to do that. I was just having too much fun watching Joker and Hound fight about it.
“Okay, honey.”
“Okay.”
“I best go, because they are actually carrying knives.”
I knew he was totally over it when I heard his quiet laughter.
“Later, Boone,” I said when it was done.
“Ryn?”
“Yeah?”
“Pack a bag for tonight.”
“Of course.”
“And don’t eat, I’m making us dinner.”
“I hope you’re a better cook than me.”
“I am.”
I burst out laughing.
When I stopped, he ordered, “Bring a silk scarf. A long one.”
I cast my eyes down as I experienced another private quiver.
“Yeah, baby?” he asked.
“Yeah,” I whispered.
“Later, sweetheart.”
“Boone?” I called quickly before he rang off.
“Yeah?”
“Thanks for looking out for me.”
“Anytime,” he repeated.
And that…
Now that was a knight’s vow.
* * *
I chewed.
I swallowed.
I looked to my guy.
And stated firmly, “This sucks.”
His brows went up. “You don’t like your steak?”
Oh, I liked my steak.
A thick juicy fillet, grilled to perfection (that being medium rare), and as if that wasn’t enough, also topped with this crazy-good bleu cheese sauce.
This with some Brussels sprouts Boone roasted in oil with bacon pieces, bits of onion, and he’d seasoned them to perfection.
And some boiled new potatoes that he didn’t just boil, drain and serve.
Oh no.
He tossed them in some buttery herbed concoction that made them heavenly.
So he could seriously cook.
But that wasn’t it.
He lived in a freaking Lowry loft.
One mammoth room (outside laundry and bath).
Whitewashed brick.
Big windows.
Clean-lined, modern, comfortable-looking furniture.
Great rugs.
Massive bed.
And he had a kickass Dyson fan pointed at the bed, so I knew he was a white-noise-while-sleeping man—I mean, did we fit or what?
He even had a gallery wall that, when I gave him a look after checking out all the kickassedness that was framed on it, he shrugged and said, “I get into art.”
Yeah, he did, and he had an eye.
He even had a dining room space with an actual table.
Like a grownup.
Which was where we were, eating his awesome food.
“No, my steak is awesome,” I told him. “What sucks is that you’ve totally got it way more together than me.”
“Babe,” he muttered, before shoving more sprouts in his mouth.
“Please tell me your mother, or even some ex-girlfriend, decorated your house,” I begged.
He chewed and shook his head.
“So you’re good at interior design too?” I squeaked.
“I can pick a couch,” he stated.
“And rugs. And art. And freaking coffee table books.”
He grinned at me. “I like Annie Leibovitz.”
I shook my head, speared a new potato and chewed on it angrily.
“I don’t get why this is an issue,” Boone noted, watching me chew.
“Well, you wouldn’t, because you’re the together one in this relationship.”
“I wasn’t the last three days.”
That shut my mouth.
“My woman had it together,” he went on. “She reached out. She kept us connected, even when she wasn’t getting anything in return. She had it together trying to keep us together. And I was a dick.”
“Boone, you weren’t a dick,” I said quietly.
“I was a dick.”
“Okay, you were a dick, but then you stopped being a dick and that’s all over. It’s behind us.”
“Your pad is kickass too,” he pointed out.
“I am dark and you,” I motioned with a wide swing of my fork, “are way light.”
“Can’t have light without dark, can’t have dark without light. Fit seems perfect to me,” he muttered, forking into a piece of steak he cut.
I watched him put it in his mouth.
God, how, even after our dramatic snafu, did he keep getting better?
“Got an answer for everything, don’t you, baby?” I whispered.
He was slightly bent over his plate, so it was sexy as all hell when he lifted just his eyes to me, swallowed and said, “Yup.”
“Just so you know, all that was my way of saying I dig your space and I dig you can cook.”
“Got that, Rynnie.”
I smiled at him.
He smiled back.
Then I stuck my fork into some Brussels sprouts, informing him, “You do know this means you’re doing all the cooking.”
“Don’t mind that,” he said.
“I’m hell on wheels in a grocery store though,” I shared. “So I can do that.”
“Nope, grocery shopping together,” he declared.
“But I can take that chore.”
“I like the idea of being out with you.”
Well, that was sweet.
But.
“It’s just the grocery store.”
“Ryn, you’ve had boyfriends.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’ve had Doms.”
“Well, yeah.”
“Have you had both in one guy?”
I shook my head.
He put his fork down, sat back, and I braced because I knew something big was coming.
I was not wrong.
“Then you best know what you signed up for, Rynnie.”
Yep.
Something big was coming.
I put my fork down.
He watched.
Then he launched in.
“You’re gorgeous,” he announced.
Oh boy.
My heart was hammering again.
“Boone,” I whispered.
“You’re gorgeous and you’re mine.”
Now my breath was quickening.
“Part of what I get off on is that. I can take you out, and you’re gorgeous, and men are gonna look at you, and want you, but you’re mine. But more,” he leaned toward me, “in other very important ways, you…are…mine.”
Yup, now practically panting.
“I own your pussy, Kathryn, and I’m gonna do what I want with it, and you’re gonna let me.”
I squirmed in my chair.
“I own your mouth and I’m gonna fuck it and you’re gonna suck me for as long as I tell you to, and I’m gonna do whatever the hell else I wanna do with that mouth, and you’re gonna let me do that too.”
I was captured by his gaze, captivated by his words, unmoving, unspeaking.
Just feeling.
A lot.
All good.
So, so gooooood.
“Every bit of you. Your ass. Your tits. Every inch of your skin. You’re gonna give that up to me.”
“Yes,” I breathed.
“I take you out, to dinner, a movie, even the grocery store, men look at you, and they don’t know all that, but I do. I know in those times, you’re there, at my side, being you, being gorgeous, and I’ll be proud you’re on my arm. I also know all I can do to you when I get you home. And that is a really, fuckin’ huge turn-on, baby.”
It really fucking was.
I nodded.
“Now eat your food, Kathryn, because now my dick is hard and you’re gonna need to do something about that.”
I swallowed to battle my suddenly dry mouth and my suddenly enormous need to suck his cock.
He dipped his head to his food, “Go on, sweetheart.”
Al
l right.
One could say this whole D/s thing filtering into life was going to work great.
I bent and ate my food, going slowly so I wouldn’t expose what it would expose if I did what I wanted to do.
Wolf it down so I could do something about my man’s hard dick.
Boone took his time too.
It was torture.
And it was awesome.
* * *
Boone was lounged back on his deep-seated couch, his legs open.
I was on my knees between them, his cock in my mouth.
He was stroking the back of my neck as I sucked it.
I was trying not to come as I sucked it.
Boone was fully clothed, just his jeans open, his dick out.
I was completely naked, my hands tied with my own scarf behind my back.
And I was realizing Boone not only liked being in control, he had iron control, because I’d been blowing him forever, and I around about immediately needed that big dick somewhere else.
And I needed that bad.
I didn’t get it and wouldn’t get it for a while, I knew, when he told me, “Slower, Kathryn.”
Oh God.
I lifted my eyes to his.
His were turned on, but languid, and totally amazing.
“My sweet little fuck has a sweet mouth,” he murmured.
I slid him out only to run my tongue from base to tip.
“And a sweet tongue,” he went on. “Take all of me, Kathryn.”
I went back to blowing him, beginning to understand the “work” part of him working me.
Though it was more like me working him.
I did not mind.
I eventually got so into it, I sped up again.
He didn’t repeat his order to slow down.
He leaned forward, put his hands under my arms and lifted me up.
I got his hint and climbed on, straddling his lap, relieved like crazy I was going to get his cock another way.
I didn’t.
He stayed slouched and settled me in his lap so I felt his dick, but I didn’t have it.
Oh no.
“Boone,” I whispered.
“Shh,” he shushed, moving his hands on me.
Oh no.
I had a feeling I was wrong earlier.
Now he was going to show me what working me was.
I was right.
He did.
Touching me all over, but specifically spending a long time playing with my tits, until I was wriggling in his lap, breathing shallowly, staring down at him watching him watch himself work me up, and watching him getting off on it, while I was getting off on feeling what he was doing to me, as well as watching him do it.
But I was not getting off enough.
“I need to come, baby,” I said, grinding my pussy against his cock.
His eyes came to mine. “I know, Kathryn,” and he pinched my nipple.
Mammoth pussy spasm.
I jerked.
God.
“Arch for me,” he ordered.
Anything.
Anything to take me closer to really getting off.
I arched for him.
“That’s it,” he murmured. “Rub your wet cunt on my dick, Kathryn, show me how bad you wanna get fucked.”
I did that too.
With his hands he spanned the juncture of where my thighs met my hips, thumbs in, then one went down and he rolled my clit.
Oh no.
My head shot forward as my body jolted with sheer electric goodness.
And unadulterated need.
“Boone,” I whimpered.
“Take it.”
Oh God, I was going to come.
“Honey,” I panted, my pussy clenching at nothing, feeling empty.
God, I’d never felt this strong a need.
“You’re gonna ride me hard, Kathryn, need you primed.”
I was already primed.
He kept working me.
God, oh God.
His free hand moved to my tit and he worked me in both places.
God, oh God.
I whimpered as I moved wildly against his cock.
“She needs fucked,” he muttered.
Yes! I did not shout.
He took his thumb from my clit, wrapped his hand around his cock, and instantly, I shifted to give it room.
“Drive down,” he commanded roughly.
I did not delay a nanosecond.
I took him.
And when I filled myself with him, my entire body spasmed.
Boone spanked my ass hard.
And when I felt that, I barely stopped myself from coming.
“Ride,” he growled.
I rode.
And rode.
I did it wild.
And Boone watched.
Me. My body. My face. My sex lifting away and then accepting the invasion of his.
I was close.
Oh God, he was going to let me take myself there.
My head fell back.
He yanked me off his cock.
No! I did not scream.
Then I was face and belly down on his couch, legs straight, and he was straddling me.
With one hand, he took hold of my bound wrists.
With the other, he guided his cock in the tight wet between my pressed-together legs.
Then he thrust deep.
It was slow, it was rhythmic, it was so spectacular, I was pretty sure I fell into a trance.
And then he started yanking back on my wrists as his cock started pounding inside.
Oh yeah.
The other was really good.
But this was so much better.
“You’re gonna come with just my cock, Kathryn.”
Oh yeah, I was.
“Do it now,” he commanded.
My head jerked back, and I let it go.
I was gasping, mewing, still getting fucked, still coming, when he pulled out again, shoved my legs open, went back in, but did it covering me, his face in my neck, a forearm in the couch, the other hand he shoved under me.
He went after my clit.
Too much.
“Boone.”
“Again,” he growled, rolling my clit and fucking my pussy.
Try as I might, I was not a multiple-orgasm or a quick-recovery-then-another-orgasm person.
Until then.
His grunts in my ear, his cock, his finger, my hands bound.
My head went back and hit his shoulder as my next orgasm rolled through me.
“Yeah, Kathryn,” he rumbled. “Keep coming.”
I did, trembling beneath him, my eyes closed, my lips parted in a silent cry, my body racked with pleasure.
“Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah,” he grunted.
Then he shoved his hand between us, feeling him fucking me in another way, and he groaned into my neck as he came inside me, still pounding, I was still coming, doing it knowing with no doubt this man was my goddamned fucking everything.
I knew how big it was for him (and I was really freaking pleased about giving him that) when his hips jerked uncontrollably against mine when his orgasm started waning.
He did not glide this time when it was over.
He seated himself deep and sank his teeth into my skin where my neck met my shoulder.
Marked.
Nice.
Then he took his forearm out of the couch and he gave me his weight.
And he meant to give me his weight.
He used that hand to pull my hair to one side where he growled in my ear, “Yeah. She can take a good,” he tensed between my legs and I gasped a small, happy gasp, “solid,” he did it again, so did I, “fucking.”
He pulled out suddenly, and I mewed in disappointment when he did.
But then he untied my wrists.
I’d learn immediately that didn’t mean we were done.
He leaned over me, slid the scarf under my cheek on the couch, and tied it around my neck.
I shivered.
He tied it in such a way, one end was long, I felt it as he ran it in an unbearably tender way down my back.
This meant Boone had just collared me in a damned sexy way.
And leashed me.
Dear God, he was good.
Boone then rolled me to my back, settled his weight on me, and looked in my eyes.
“We’re not done, Kathryn.”
“Goodie,” I forced out, still not quite recovered.
His eyes charged. “My sweet little fuck likes to fuck.”
“Uh, yeah,” I replied.
“Get your ass to my bed, baby, and it’s good you don’t gotta work tomorrow, because I’m gonna fuck you ’til you can’t move.”
“I think you already accomplished that. I’m not sure I can make it to your bed.”
“Suggestion?” he asked.
I nodded.
He dipped his face closer and I saw his eyes flash.
Okay.
My Dom was in the mood to dom.
Oh yeah.
“Try.”
After delivering that order, he rolled to my side, his back against the back of his couch.
And I got my ass to his bed.
* * *
Boone pulled my prone body on top of his.
Well, my chest to his chest, my legs were off to his side.
And in that position, my head fell to his shoulder, my lips close to his throat.
“You all fucked out, Rynnie?” he asked, sounding amused, sounding replete, sounding cocky as fuck, which was hot as all hell.
One could say I was all fucked out because honest to God, I could not move.
And that was all good.
“Yep,” I mumbled.
He cupped one cheek of my ass in one hand, the other, he started to draw patterns on.
“You’re gonna sleep in my collar.”
Nice.
“Okay.” I was still mumbling.
“Okay,” he murmured, turned his head and kissed my neck where my scarf still was. “Straddle my thigh.”
It was a Herculean effort, but I managed shifting my leg a couple of inches so it fell between his and I was straddling his thigh.
Then I was pretty sure I slid into an instant doze.
“Babe,” he called.
I blinked and saw Boone’s stubbled jaw.
“Yeah?” I answered.
“I’ve collared subs before.”
Straight up, I got that he’d had women to whom he did what he did to me that night, but I didn’t need him reminding me of that.
Especially not now.
Not after he’d given me the best scene I’d had bar none by far in my entire life.
“But none of them ever slept collared,” he finished.
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