Diablo Blanco Club, Rite of First Claim

by Qwillia Rain

  “But?”

  “I walked in on him screwing another model. When I confronted him, he laughed. Told me I couldn’t expect any man to want me. Maybe for a romp in the sheets, but not forever. What man could bear to love me when there were more beautiful, skinnier women in the world?”

  “Tell me his name and I’ll bury him.” Mike tucked her close against him.

  She shrugged. “It was a long time ago. I got over it.” Lyssa smoothed her hands over Mike’s shoulders. Staying mad at him was growing impossible. Like she’d told her sister, who could resist a puppy? Her eyes drifted over the taut lines of his chest and down his abdomen. It was hard to suppress the smile the sight of his erection brought to her lips.

  “What about after me?”

  She could have sworn she’d heard an edge of jealousy in his tone. It would only boost his arrogance and give him the impression that she cared, but she couldn’t lie. “No one.”

  That made him pause and pull away to look down at her. “No one?”

  Lyssa shook her head. “No one. It just seemed unnecessary.”

  “Unnecessary?” Mike tugged her close, his hands warm on her hips. “Lyssa, a woman like you was made for loving. Sex fires you up. It practically oozes from your every pore.”

  Lyssa laughed. “Well, if it does, the men around me are immune to my charms.”

  Mike smiled and eased the robe off her shoulders. “Or maybe you were just waiting for the right man.”

  Lyssa draped her arms around his neck. Her senses hummed with excitement at the heat generated by his attentions. “Possibly,” she agreed, snuggling closer. “I guess I’ll settle for you until Mr. Right comes along.”

  The slap to her bare bottom startled a cry from her that quickly turned into a squeal of suppressed amusement as Mike lifted her off her feet and carried her to the bed.

  “Oh, you’ll settle for me, will you?” he growled, dropping her onto the bed and following her down. Crouched over her, Mike pinned her wrists above her head and nudged her legs apart to slide comfortably between them.

  Lyssa rubbed against him, tempting him to move over her as she wrapped her legs around his hips. The base of his erection coasted over the taut bundle of nerves peeking from beneath its hood. Labial tissue, plump with arousal, hugged his flesh as Mike rocked against her. “I’m sure you can produce a good argument.” She laughed, arching close and rubbing his chest with her breasts.

  “Perhaps I just need to make my point a bit more vigorously,” Mike returned, releasing his hold on her to quickly don a condom before filling her body with his in a single, smooth stroke.

  She hadn’t moved her hands, and his fingers returned to grip her wrists. Lyssa gasped, her breath frozen by the fullness stretching her. Even with the numerous times he’d made love with her over the last two and a half weeks, it still required a few moments for her body to adjust to the thickness and length of his penis filling her. She wriggled her fingers, scrambling to hold on to something even as he shifted his grip so only one hand bound her arms above her head. His left dropped to caress the smooth length of her thigh riding his hip.

  “I want you to do it again, Lys.” Mike moved against her, thrusting deep, then retreating.

  Lyssa wriggled against him. “What? Do what again?”

  “Squirt.” He smiled at the surprised look she knew had to be on her face. “Do you know how fucking powerful that is? Knowing I can make you come so hard your body gushes?”

  She rose with him, meeting each thrust, absorbing the force and power of his possession and craving more. “I don’t know if I can.” She wasn’t lying. Lyssa truly didn’t know what had created the sudden ejaculation when she’d climaxed.

  Mike leaned close and kissed her, stroking over and around her tongue, rocking his body deep inside before pulling almost free, than sliding home in a fast, heated thrust. “Mmm, guess we’ll just have to keep trying until we figure out what does it.”

  Lyssa moaned at the images and temptations that flooded her mind. Her body trembled in anticipation. If there was one thing she’d learned about this man, giving up wasn’t part of his vocabulary. Or his nature. The niggling voice whispered a warning, but Lyssa ignored it, surrendering to the fire and passion building inside and channeling those feelings back toward Mike.

  Lyssa wrapped her legs tight around his hips, holding him as close as possible. Just thinking about Mike staying increased her arousal, her excitement.

  At no time in their weeks together had he even hinted at leaving. As much as she fought the temptation to dream, it was getting harder to stay reserved, to keep her heart guarded against his promises to stay. Forever.

  Chapter Thirteen

  On the Steak Wednesday before Thanksgiving, the taillights of Tuma’s new car had turned the corner at the end of the cul-de-sac before Lyssa and Mike gave a final wave to Ben and Vance and closed the front door.

  “Do you think she’ll make it back to the apartment okay?” Lyssa asked.

  “She’ll be fine,” he assured her.

  Lyssa glanced over her shoulder at him as she headed into the kitchen and packed the leftovers into the refrigerator. “I don’t think she’ll get any sleep tonight.”

  Mike had to agree. “You’d think it was the night before Christmas, not Thanksgiving, as excited as she is.”

  The water splashed into the sink, and Lyssa added a squirt of soap, her voice raised enough to be heard over the noise. “Well, she is meeting her family for the first time tomorrow.”

  He leaned against the counter. “I think Vance knows.” He wasn’t sure how he felt about the other man being privy to his secret.

  Lyssa considered his suspicion seriously before she nodded. “He might. I think he told me he knew a little African and Swahili. And many of the businesses in and around San Diablo have used him as an interpreter because of his language skills.”

  “Do you think he’ll keep it to himself?”

  She smiled at him. “Oh yes. About the only person he’d tell is Ben.” Her grin faded slightly. “And they’re both very good about keeping secrets.”

  When she turned to the sink and shut off the water, Mike had a niggling suspicion Lyssa was talking about more than the secret of his daughter. Not wanting to put a pall on the relaxed feeling he’d shared with Lyssa during the evening, he went into the dining room and collected the last of the dishes. Returning to the kitchen, Mike helped load the dishes into the dishwasher after Lyssa rinsed them.

  When he’d set the last one in place, he told her, “Tuma and I can pick you up tomorrow around eleven. Mattie said she was planning Thanksgiving dinner to start by two.”

  “I’m going over there at nine to help Mattie and Etta with the preparations.”

  Mike wiped his hands off on a towel and then leaned against the counter. “Then we’ll come over earlier.”

  “Don’t change your plans for me.” Lyssa set the last of the leftovers in the refrigerator. “Besides, I think it’s best if you and Tuma arrive together.”

  Mike wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her close. The clean scent of her body mingled with her honeysuckle perfume and the lavender-mint dish soap. “But I’d like to have you with me when I introduce her to our family.”

  He sensed the tension spreading through her body, although her expression did little to betray it. Her hands pressed low on his abdomen, and she shifted back so their eyes could meet when she explained, “No… I-I’d rather we not show up at my sister’s house together. There would be too many questions.”

  “Too many questions?” He released his hold on her. “What kind of questions are you afraid of, Lyssa?”

  His gaze followed her as she wiped the kitchen table off. “You know what I mean.” She smoothed the cloth over the wooden surface one last time before she turned to face him. “Mattie would start dreaming up some happily ever after ending between us.”

  “And that’s bad?” Keep it cool. Getting angry will only make her freeze up.


  Lyssa nodded. “Yes, you know it would be. She’ll be hurt and disappointed when our agreement ends in a week and we go back to the way it was before.”

  Mike was sure incredulity covered his face. He reined in the jumbled emotions wanting to detonate and focused on the note he heard in her voice. A part of her didn’t believe a word she’d said. Somewhere, deep inside, he was certain she’d begun to trust in his vows to her. At least he hoped she had. “I told you I’m not leaving. After the time we’ve been together, can you really say you don’t believe my promise?”

  “Do you?” There was a hint of skepticism in her voice, but Mike was sure it was forced. “I never promised anything beyond these thirty days, Mike. If I arrive for Thanksgiving with you, it would encourage my sister to hope for something that simply isn’t going to work. I won’t hurt her that way.”

  “I could make it a command.”

  The temptation to tell him to do so glittered in her eyes, in the flash of relief stealing across her face. It was a command he felt Lyssa truly wanted to follow, but she fought that desire. Just as she’d reined in her natural submission during their time together. Instead she snorted. “I don’t think so, Mike. You aren’t my master anywhere except when it comes to sex. No man tells me what I think or do, not even you.”

  It was in every line of her body, in her set expression. Like words on a page, Mike could read the way Lyssa fought the urge to give in to him. In the time they’d been together, she’d admitted to seeing why Mattie was so satisfied with Bryce. No other man had shown her the capabilities of her body the way he had. In the last few weeks he had seen how satisfied and content Lyssa was, at least sexually. The temptation to please him in other things beyond the sexual crept into her actions at odd moments. Mike had watched her dither over those behaviors. Sometimes she pushed the urge aside, but more often than not, she gave in to them, and her pleasure was palpable when he acknowledged his. Submitting to him brought her peace. He’d seen it. Felt it. Until now.

  Mike watched her carefully as he asked, “And what if it pleased your master to have you arrive at Thanksgiving dinner with him?”

  Her expression gave her away. Like every other time he’d pushed too far, she shut down, slapping up the walls and hunkering down as if to ride out a storm. He wasn’t surprised when Lyssa shook her head. “Then Master would have to be disappointed. And what’s with referring to yourself in the third person? We agreed this whole Rite of First Claim thing was so you would finally realize we aren’t compatible.”

  Mike moved forward, backing her up to the table, disillusionment poking away at his patience. “That’s all you think we’ve been doing? Did you think to work me out of your system?”

  The look in Lyssa’s eyes was cautious, but not her voice. “It’s why I agreed. It’s why you asked.”

  He’d taken his time, pushed when it was necessary, and backed off when she became skittish, but the warning Mattie had given him weeks ago whispered in his head. “You’re going to have to break her.” Contemplating the task and actually doing it were two very different things, but the dominant within him recognized that the only way to prove his commitment to Lyssa would be to rip down the last barrier she held between them. It would require locking down every instinct within him to protect her.

  When Lyssa’s eyes went wide, Mike knew determination showed on his face. It was in the very controlled way he held himself as he lifted her onto the table and braced his hands on the thick oak surface on either side of her hips. The tiny V at the base of her throat betrayed the way her heart pounded in her chest. If she was wondering if she’d pushed him too far, she’d have to wait to find out. In careful steps, he mentally locked down the emotions her distress could trigger. Nothing would stand between him and the lesson his woman needed to learn.

  Intent on showing her how wrong she was, he offered, “Then let’s see if your plan is working, shall we?”

  He stripped the buttons from the holes on her blouse and tugged the sleeveless covering off her shoulders and down her arms. The indigo dyed silk fluttered to the tiled floor. He loosened her matching wide-legged pants, eased them over her hips and off her legs before dropping them onto the top. Bra and panties were discarded next, and then followed the jeans, long-sleeved Oxford cloth shirt, and boxer-briefs he wore.

  While his hands dealt with his clothes, his mouth seduced hers. Once finished removing his coverings, Mike lowered Lyssa onto the clean surface of the table and slid his attentions from her lips to the tips of her breasts. He’d noticed the swollen mounds had grown sensitive in the last week, and the firm tug of his teeth on one crest sent Lyssa’s back bowing away from the surface beneath her. Recently he’d learned how quickly Lyssa climaxed from simple stimulation to her breasts. He wedged his body between her thighs, the firm ridge of his aroused penis snuggled into place within the bare, moist folds of her pussy. The wiry curls at its base scraped along the pulsing opening and the wakening nubbin of nerve endings.

  “Is this enough for you, Lyssa? Or do you need more?” he growled.

  The hard muscles beneath his skin flexed in response to the slide of her fingers. Moving down, she traced the crease separating the thick curves of his pectoral muscles from the ridged line of his abdominals. Then she investigated the ribbon of hair dividing the washboardlike contours of his abdomen until it widened as she reached his navel.

  The damp crown of his cock bumped the side of her palm. When she would have wrapped her fingers around him, Mike grabbed her wrist.

  “Answer me. Is this enough for you?”

  Lyssa rocked her hips against him, nudging his shaft deeper between her labial folds. “No,” she admitted.

  A tiny grimace and momentary flash of anger betrayed the frustration her honesty created. In the last three weeks, he’d worked her hard, but now he was sure she craved the feeling of his thick shaft powering into her. Pushing her past limits she’d never known existed within herself.

  “Do you need more?” He teased, moving his body forward and back, rubbing, taunting, tempting her with penetration but not fulfilling it.

  Her fingers clutched his waist, pulling him closer as she wriggled against his shaft. Without result. Gritting her teeth, she admitted, “Yes. I need… I want more.”

  “And what if I don’t?” Mike stepped away, the only contact between their bodies the grip he retained on her wrist and the rub of her calves along the back of his thighs.

  He watched Lyssa swallow the plea rising within her. During their time together he’d shown her numerous times that he was fully capable of denying his needs in order to prove a point to her. In answer to his question, she cleared her throat and replied, “That’s your decision.”

  “And if my decision was to fuck you until you begged for climax but denied it to you?” Mike lifted her from the table and set her on her feet before him. She needed to know the difference between what he’d given her and what she thought she wanted.

  A whimper sneaked past her control. The thought of remaining on the edge of climax indefinitely both frightened and stimulated her; he easily read that in her expression. In their time together, he’d taught her the pleasure to be found within the pain of prolonged arousal. It worked to his advantage now. She swayed closer to him, her body rubbing against his, her juices slicking her thighs. “That would be your choice if you felt I needed it.” She slipped easily into the role of submissive, deferring to his direction. He doubted she was even aware of her behavior.

  “Very good, you remembered.”

  Lyssa nodded. “Rule number two.”

  Mike stroked his hands over her swollen breasts. He used his fingertips to pluck at her peaked nipples, registering the gasps and moans Lyssa couldn’t stifle. “Do you need to be fucked, pet?”

  Determination filled his voice. Lyssa lifted her gaze to his. What did she see in the dark brown depths of his eyes? Did she sense something stirring? He’d chosen each word for a specific reason. Confusion fogged her expression. She didn’t appe
ar to have figured out what he was getting at. Not yet, but it was there.

  “Do I need to be fucked?” she asked.

  According to what Mattie had told him, Lyssa couldn’t trust emotions. Need was based on emotions. Ergo, Lyssa refused to trust need. She refused to give in to need. Mike’s gut twisted when he recognized the path she’d chosen. He didn’t want to go there, but he would. He would because his woman had not yet learned to trust completely.

  She held his gaze and lied. “No, I don’t need to be fucked.”

  He tried to hide the disappointment, but a flash of emotion flickered across her face, warning him she’d read it in his expression.

  “Then you want to be fucked?” he asked.

  Resolve glinted in her eye as she nodded. “Yes, I want to be fucked.”

  She was so damned stubborn. Mike knew there would be no reasoning with her. No getting her to admit how she truly felt. The second the words left her lips, Mike knew them for the lie they were. He allowed her to believe he accepted them. But he never would.

  How could a man walk away from the other half of his soul? He had already resigned himself to waiting her out if Lyssa didn’t succumb in the next week, but he’d be damned if he would leave his woman ignorant of his displeasure with her recalcitrance.

  There had been no other men since she’d made love with him four years ago. When he was through with her tonight, there’d be no way she’d allow another man to touch her. Leaning forward, he wrapped one hand around the back of her neck and raised her chin with his thumb. “You want to be fucked, Lyssa?”

  Something must have shown in his face, because hesitation flickered in her pretty, blue eyes. “Y-y-yes,” she stuttered.

  “Turn around and lean on the table.”

  She hesitated, then did as he asked. The curve of her bottom was tempting. The puckered rose of her anus was hidden between the smooth round cheeks. But it was the wet pink folds beneath that drew his attention. Still aroused, her thighs flexed and relaxed as if trying to satisfy the internal muscles. He knew her body, knew what pleased her, but for just this moment, he forced himself not to care. He was tired of waiting. Tired of coaxing her along, trying to convince her of the rightness of their being together.