Her muscles strained to the limit. Her chest heaved up and down. Her eyes locked on mine. I stroked myself as I reached for a condom in the nightstand. I was happy I had a huge supply. We were going through them quickly. I rolled the condom down my cock. I slapped my cock against her pussy.
She yelped.
"You want this?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Tell me you want it."
"I want your cock."
"Where do you want it, sub?"
"In my pussy."
"Say please."
"Please."
"Please what?"
"Please, S—" Before she finished my name, I shoved my cock in her so deep, it hurt.
We both cried out.
I pulled back and did it again. I didn't care if she was sore from the night before; I needed her. I wanted to fuck her in a way that made her miss my cock when it was gone.
I fucked her while paying attention to her body. I studied the way her body responded to different sensations. The way she grimaced when I pulled her nipples; the way she screamed when my cock hit her at a certain angle. I committed her every response to memory for future use.
When her pussy tightened around my cock, I knew she was close. I had felt it last night. That was my cue.
I stopped moving, my cock sat halfway inside her pussy.
She blinked, and her mouth twitched. With the expression on her face, she wanted to protest but knew better.
"You are learning fast, my little puppy," I said.
She grinned again, loving her new nickname.
"I think we should use this opportunity for another lesson." I rested my hand on her stomach.
She narrowed her eyes.
"You don't come until I command you to come."
She swallowed.
"Say it."
"I don't come until you tell me to come?"
"Why?"
"Because you said so."
I laughed, and she twitched around my cock.
"Good answer." I pushed into her.
She moaned.
I laid down on top of her.
Her tits smashed against my chest. Her nipples hardened. I pushed my hand into her hair and ran my fingers over her scalp.
She ran her fingers down my side, and it did something inside me.
I wasn't going to last long.
I fucked her slow and steady with short thrusts.
She whimpered with each. Her pussy clenched around my cock.
I felt her teetering on the edge.
She wore the strain on her face.
If I weren’t enjoying her struggle so much, I would almost feel sorry for her.
Because I said so.
"That's it, sub. You wait. Until. I. Tell. You." I paused between each word to thrust home my point.
Sweat popped out on her skin.
Her nails dug into my sides.
If she needed something to anchor herself to prevent herself from falling over the edge, I was a willing anchor. I wanted her to leave her mark on me as I left mine on hers.
We were in this together for as long as I said so.
I snaked a hand under her ass and pulled her closer. I pushed into her and remained inside her as far as I could go. I gripped her hair with my other hand and pulled. The angle allowed my pelvis to rub against her clit. Her pleasure senses must have been in overdrive.
That was my goal.
I released her lip and whispered in her face, "Come for me."
Her eyes rolled back in her head, her body arched further. Her pussy held my cock in a vise. She rode out her orgasm on a slow and steady moan. It vibrated off her body and into my balls.
They drew up, and I released with a roar.
Her legs shook uncontrollably, and her breath was shallow and erratic.
When I could produce a conscious thought, I gathered her in my arms, rolled our side, and held her close. When she stopped shaking, she was silent, but tears were running down her face.
She’d blissed out.
I held her, watching her face, her mouth, and her body tics when she subbed out. It was a beautiful sight. When she blinked back into existence, the look in her eyes . . . I'd die happy knowing someone looked at me like that.
Brooklyn
After fucking me into subspace, deeper than I ever remember going before, I laid in his arms thinking how lucky I was to find him when I did.
One month ago, I woke up every morning wondering how I could make today a good day. How could I make sure the stuff in my life I loved would outweigh the stuff in my life I hated? It was a hard balance and took a lot of energy.
Today, I woke up happy. Everything I took on today would be seen through Harrison colored glasses. I knew in my heart the world was safe because I had Harrison in my life. He was mine.
When I came down from my high, he kissed me. He carried me into the bathroom because my limbs weren't working. He ran a shower for me and washed me with magnolia flavored soap. He wrapped me in the softest white terry cloth towel and carried me to the couch under the window. The warm sun shined down on me, and I felt covered in warmth and love.
He kissed me once more and rubbed my cheek.
I studied his face and the way he looked at me—like he really saw me and liked what he saw. It was a gift.
"Close your eyes." I did as he asked. He knew best. "Rest a bit. I'll be here when you wake up."
True to his word, he sat right in the same spot when my eyes fluttered open.
"Hey," I said.
"Hey," he said.
"How long was I out?"
"About an hour. Not long. You need your rest."
"I have better reasons to be awake." I reached out and touched his face.
He smirked.
He'd shaved. His chest was bare, but he wore baggy gray sweatpants.
I sat up; the bed was stripped and the kitchen cleaned.
"You've been busy this morning." I ran my hand through his hair.
He turned.
"Multitasking," he said and smiled. He pulled my hand out of his hair and kissed it. His expression turned serious. "I want you to move in with me."
I sat up, grimacing from the pain in my strained muscles.
He helped me sit up but remained on the floor.
"I just want to keep an eye on you for a while." He caressed my cheek.
"I appreciate it. I really do, but I think I need to stay put. At least until the divorce is final."
"How long?" he asked.
"His lawyer is drafting the papers as we speak," I answered.
"You don't have a lawyer?" Harrison frowned.
"I signed a prenup. "It's pretty straightforward. Besides, I have everything I need right here." I reached for him. He took my hand.
"You still need a lawyer to look at the final decree,” Harrison said.
"I just don't want to piss him off." I stood up, not wanting to have this conversation.
Harrison pushed me back down.
We both cringed when I fell back on the couch. I rubbed my sore ass.
"I want it over with. He seemed relieved when I asked, but that's because I made it seem like his idea."
"What do you get?"
"A hundred thousand for each year of marriage and the house," I said.
He dropped his head.
"Don't give me that look. It was important for him to know I wasn't with him for his money." I leaned over and kissed the top of Harrison's head. My hands landed on his shoulders, and he looked up. "It's important for me, too."
"You're not after me for my money?" Harrison asked.
"That depends. Do you have any?" I looked around his place.
It never crossed my mind until he mentioned it. He drove an American-made SUV. He lived in a warehouse. His family had money, and his friends had money, but nothing in his life screamed independent wealth.
"Not as much as some people." He shrugged.
"Um." I sat back on the couch. "Oh well, I guess I'll keep you a
nyway."
He raised his eyebrows and pushed off the floor. He wrestled me onto the couch.
"You'll keep me," he said.
I giggled as he tickled me.
"Maybe," I said, trying to catch my breath.
"Maybe." My towel slipped down.
Harrison laid loud kisses on my chest and down my stomach. My giggles turned into moans as he slowed down and ran his tongue over my skin.
He trailed kisses up my stomach and ended at my lips.
"Hey, pup?"
"Yes, sir.” He stilled me with his serious expression.
"You couldn't get rid of me if you tried."
I tackled him back, vowing to never let him go.
We laid on the sun warmed couch, holding each other and saying few words. It was a Saturday, and neither of us felt much like moving or thinking too much.
His stomach growled and brought us back to reality.
"We need to eat," I said.
"We can have something delivered." He tapped my nose.
"We can go out." I sat up.
"What do you feel like?" he asked.
"Mexican."
"You are turning into a Texan." He laughed.
I spotted my clothes folded on the table.
"I think I need to go home and change. I don't think sequined boy shorts are appropriate Tex-Mex attire."
"You'd be surprised." Harrison stood up. "I'll get dressed, and we'll stop by your place, and you can grab some stuff to stash here. You know. Just in case you find yourself stuck here for a day or two at a time."
"You're not going to let me go easy, are you?" I asked, but I knew the answer.
He stopped in the middle of the floor and turned.
"Never."
We parked in the garage at my place and rode the elevator straight up to my floor. I excused myself and left Harrison in the living room as I changed into a white tank top, a black sheer button-down shirt and black leggings.
I hurried to pack a bag with more essentials to leave at his place.
He seemed uncomfortable in the apartment.
"Hey." I wrapped my arms around his waist and laid my head between his shoulder blades.
"You like this place?" He laced his fingers with mine.
I breathed him in, loving his scent. It was so demanding if a scent could be demanding.
"Not really." I squeezed him. "I've lived in high rises all my life. Ranging from two rooms in a run-down building to this eight-room monstrosity. It all feels the same. Not quite mine."
He turned in my arms, bent over, and lifted me up.
I wrapped my legs around his waist.
He held me, kissed me, and pressed his tongue into my mouth. He carried me toward the door.
He grabbed my bag and carried me down the hall.
We made it back down the elevator and into his SUV without seeing another soul.
We enjoyed our first night out, our first date. Harrison took me to a restaurant in Uptown. We sat outside, enjoying the last of the comfortable weather in Dallas before the heat of the summer set in. We drank margaritas, and I stuffed myself on chips and queso.
He showed me how to properly roll a fajita, and we laughed and joked around. We made a great effort to put the rest of real life on the back burner for a while.
When we returned to his place, Harrison pulled up to the curb.
“The code to get in is four, three, eight, seven. I need to take care of something. I'll be back in thirty minutes. When I get back, I want you kneeling in the middle of the bed"—his eyes gleamed—"wearing nothing."
I leaned in and kissed his lips and whispered, "Yes, Sir."
Twenty-Two
Brooklyn
Last night, Harrison’s goal was to assert his dominance over me for my benefit. He wanted to push me out of my own head and remind me what I knew and loved about myself.
Tonight was all about him. I was his plaything, and he was going to use me to his heart’s content. He needed tonight as much as I needed last night.
I set the timer on my watch to twenty-seven minutes. I entered his place. I jumped in and out of the shower in record time. I wrapped a towel around me as I walked across the vast room, my feet slapping on the smooth wood.
Crush was in the same building, but you couldn't tell.
I placed my bag in the closet. I ran my fingers over his clothes. Jeans, t-shirts, and a couple of suits in garment bags hung in the back.
I opened one.
It was dark gray with blue micro pinstripes. I imagined how he would look in it. His eyes would pop from the color. The label was from a local tailor I recognized in Highland Park.
He had worn it before; the jacket smelled like him.
I explored the place a little more. I couldn't sit still. Tonight made me nervous. The workbenches were empty, but faded outlines were visible where equipment used to sit. I would love to see his workspace. See him at work, creating and turning something plain into something beautiful.
My phone alarm startled me. I turned the phone off and sat on the bed until I heard him at the door. I got to my knees, lowered my head, and placed my hands on my thighs.
It wasn't until he open the door that my nerves dissipated.
I breathed in and out and waited for his command.
He stopped as he approached.
I felt his gaze on me.
I remained in position. Head bowed.
A few long minutes had passed before he moved again. He headed toward the closet then to the kitchen. He had yet to address me, but I knew he was as in tune with my presence as I was with his.
He approached me but detoured to my left side. He dropped something on the bed and walked behind it.
He stood in front of me.
Finally, he addressed me.
"Look at me, sweet pup."
I raised my head and took my time to take him in—from his shoes to his thighs and his abs, chest, and face. His eyes, hooded and dark, made my insides flip.
"I brought you a gift, sub." He handed me a box.
"Thank you, Sir." I set it down on my thighs and lifted the lid. My eyes grew wide, and a smile crept up on my face. My heart fluttered.
Inside was a full set of brown leather ankle and wrist cuffs. The leather was smooth but thick. Lined with black velvet, each cuff also had a wide D-ring that shined. They were brand new and beautiful.
I giggled.
"You like them, sweet sub?" he asked, his tone full of hope.
I grinned up at him and nodded.
He reached for the box.
"Give me your wrist."
I reached up and locked eyes with him as he fastened the cuff on my wrist. When he dropped my hand, the weight of the cuff felt substantial but comfortable.
"The other one."
I offered him my other wrist, and he secured the cuff and let it drop.
"How do they feel?"
"Natural."
He laughed.
I inspected my wrist covered in the leather. It made me lightheaded and giddy.
I grinned up at him.
He offered me his hand. I placed mine in his, and he helped me up. Standing, he kissed me on the nose and then turned me around. He pulled my arms behind my back and clipped the cuffs together.
"Still natural?"
"Yes, Sir."
"You're lying, my sweet sub." He chuckled and kissed me on the shoulder. He pushed me forward. "On the bed."
I crawled onto the bed and sat back on my heels in the middle. Harrison knelt behind me. He reached up and gripped the back of my neck and guided my head down to the bed.
"Are you ready for me, sub?" he asked.
"Yes, Sir." I couldn't imagine answering any other way.
He ran his hand down my back between my arms. The strain on my shoulders wasn't bad, but it was intense. I rolled my shoulders back a little.
"Are you comfortable?" he asked.
"No, but I'm fine."
"Good. Soon, you won't worry about the
pain in your arms," he said.
I swallowed and willed myself to calm down.
"What's your safe word?" He asked.
"Biscuit," I answered.
"Okay?" He tapped me on the ass. "Say it again."
"Biscuit," I said and exhaled.
Harrison pulled me up on my knees again. He knelt in front of me on the bed and made me look him in the eyes.
"Brooklyn. I want you to understand. If you need to use your safe word, use it. It won't hurt my feelings, but I need your help until I learn your limits. Okay?" He caressed my cheek.
"Yes, Sir. I understand."
"Good." He scooted to my side and guided me back down to the bed.
When his hands left my body, I shivered.
His voice warmed me back up.
"Good girl."
Harrison knelt back on the bed. From my vantage point, I couldn't see what he was doing, but I soon felt it. He rubbed a hard leather paddle over my ass—first, the right cheek and then, the left.
He let me feel it; the softness of the leather and the thickness of the paddle.
He rubbed it across my ass.
I felt the weight.
He pulled it back a few inches and smacked me with it in quick succession.
It didn't hurt, but I flinched anyway. It tingled and woke up my senses.
"How did that feel?" he asked.
"Nice," I said, and I meant it. It felt good. It felt the way it was supposed to feel.
He rubbed it on my ass for a few more seconds. When he hit me again, it took a moment for the sting, but when it came, I felt it in my core. I moaned and instinctively tried to move away from the pain. With my hands secured the way they were, I didn't have much leverage to move.
Harrison wrapped his arm around my thighs and pulled me back into position and hit me with the leather paddle again.
I cried out, and tears stung my eyes.
He kept going.
I ground my teeth, and I tried to pull away from him in earnest.
He held on strong and continued to paddle me.
I kept telling myself to hang on; I could take it. It couldn't continue for much long.
When I was about to give up, when in my head, I knew I couldn't take another hit, he stopped.
"Breathe, sub."
I gasped for air. The pain dulled while he paddled me, but it came all at once, and I whimpered into the bed.
Salvage Him (Highland Park Chronicles Book 1) Page 17
