His Submissive (Boston Doms Book 2)

by Jane Henry

  "Is that a bump in your towel, or are you just happy to see me?" she teased.

  "Brat," he half-growled, half-laughed in her ear, landing a teasing swat to her leg. She moaned. "Happy to fucking see you?" he said. "Understatement of the fucking year."

  She welcomed him, opening her legs wide and arching her back, every bit of her body begging him to take her. Towels tossed to the floor, their damp bodies met and he marveled at how perfectly she fit under him, so soft and yielding. His lips met hers as he thrust into her. She was warm and as he filled her, his own heart constricted, a warmth in his belly spreading as his desire mounted.

  "Jesus, baby," he groaned, and he was at a loss for words.

  You feel so right.

  I need this.

  I don't want to let you go.

  "I know," she whispered, and he saw a tear escape and roll down her cheek. "Please don't stop."

  He did not. Again and again he thrust, her breath and his rising together until he came, her own climax shattering as her body trembled beneath his.

  His forehead touched hers as their breathing slowed, and he braced himself so he wouldn't smother her. But he was reluctant to separate.

  "I could stay like this forever," she whispered.

  "Hell yeah," he groaned. "You're beautiful, and I love you."

  "You're not half bad yourself," she said.

  "Oh yeah?" he retorted. "For your wiseassery you shall be punished with the removal of my member."

  "Ohh, oh no," she said in a half-sob half-giggle as he withdrew from her and rolled over on his side. He nabbed one of the towels and cleaned her, then pulled her up on his chest.

  "Are you mine?" he whispered, running a hand down the smoothness of her naked skin, all the way to her bottom.

  "All yours," she said.

  "Good girl," he whispered. "We'll get some sleep now."

  They'd sort out everything else in the morning. That would involve her moving in, telling Dom and Heidi, and a solid affirmation of her obedience to him, and he knew, but wouldn't tell her now lest she worry and not be able to sleep, that a nice, long, cleansing session over his knee was in order.

  Those were minor details, though. What mattered most was the he was done holding himself back. She was his, and he was not going to let her go.

  Chapter Eleven

  Hillary woke slowly, keeping her eyes closed as she stretched. She could feel golden sunlight on her face, hear the sound of water running, and smell coffee brewing somewhere, but her mind was reluctant to come online. It was replaying this amazing dream where she and Matteo had made love all ni—Oh. Wait.

  Her first clue that it hadn't been a dream came when she rolled over and the muscles of her legs and arms ached in protest. Her eyes flew open. She sat up quickly and took stock. Minor abrasions on her wrists, matching ones on her ankles, and—oh my God—she was definitely one hundred percent naked under these sheets… in Matteo's bed.

  Her heart started beating faster and her brain finally woke up completely just as the sound of water cut off and Matteo emerged from the attached bathroom, bare chested with a towel slung around his waist. He stopped in the doorway and regarded her lounging in his bed, his expression a mixture of concern and possessive heat that made her stomach start to bubble.

  "Uh… hi," she offered shyly, gripping the sheet across her chest.

  His expression softened. "Hey, baby. How are you feeling?"

  She contemplated for a minute and decided to go for the simplest answer.

  "I'm okay, I think. A little sore," she said, displaying the faint red mark on her wrist. "And a little achy, but otherwise… okay."

  He stalked closer to the bed and sat down by her hip, cupping her cheek in one strong hand.

  "I'm glad you're okay physically, Tink, but I meant how are you doing mentally? Emotionally? The shit you went through last night…" He cut off and shook his head angrily, as though he'd like the opportunity to take Marauder apart again, this time more slowly and more painfully. The sight sent warmth flooding through her. "It's not the kind of thing you're just going to move on from. More than likely, shit's gonna surface from that. And when it does, whenever it does, you've gotta share it with me. We're a team. That's how this works."

  Tears stung her eyes. "I love you," she said, biting her lip.

  "I know," he told her, his smile bright, unreserved, and totally focused on her. "I love you, too."

  She took a deep breath and gave him the whole truth.

  "I'm really doing okay for now," she said, lifting her hand to trace a water droplet down the smooth skin of his bicep. "When I think of what happened last night, I mostly remember the way you looked when you burst into the room—like you were ready to spit fire and rip through anyone who'd hurt me. I remember the way you took care of me, at the club and… you know… later. And I remember that you finally told me you love me."

  He narrowed his eyes, as though trying to assess whether she was telling the complete truth. She laughed softly.

  "Truly, Matt," she said, moving his hand from her cheek and grasping it in both of hers. "It wasn't like last time. You were looking out for me from the beginning, you found me right away, and the whole time, I just knew you were coming for me. I knew I wasn't alone."

  His eyes glittered into hers. "Not for a minute," he said, his voice husky.

  Hillary smiled.

  "So, things might come up in the future, I know you're right," she told him. "And I promise, I'll share with you, if and when it does. But for today… I think Marshall Griffson has already taken up more than enough of my time and attention. I think we need to move on, you know?"

  He nodded slowly.

  Another thought occurred to her and she widened her eyes in panic. "Oh, crap! Today's the rehearsal dinner! What time is it?"

  She twisted her body toward the nightstand, where Matteo must have plugged her phone into charge. Just when she thought she couldn't love him more! She needed to call Heidi! Was Heidi freaking out?

  But just as she grabbed for the phone, Matteo's hand wrapped around hers, carefully avoiding the mark on her wrist, and stopped her.

  "Baby," he said, his voice low. "I get that you want to move on. And believe me, there is nothing that I'd rather do. But we have one more piece of unfinished business to discuss."

  Hillary's eyes widened. "We… do?"

  Hadn't everything been resolved? They were in love, and he'd rescued her like the knight in shining armor she'd known him to be.

  "Last night, you eavesdropped on a conversation. Again," he told her gravely. "And then, far worse than that, you deliberately changed the plan, a plan that was created specifically to ensure your safety. And in doing so, you put yourself in jeopardy."

  Hillary closed her eyes as shame washed through her. Everything that had happened last night could have been avoided if she hadn't overheard that conversation and overreacted. And, as scary as the whole experience had been for her, how terrifying had it been for Matteo? She had known with every fiber of her being that Matteo would do whatever it took, would level the freakin' city if necessary, to find her. But he hadn't known where she was. He hadn't known whether she was alive or dead, hurt or frightened… He hadn't known whether he'd ever see her again.

  She opened her eyes.

  "I'm so sorry," she told him. "I just… didn't think. I was so irresponsible."

  Matteo nodded, and she could see an uncharacteristic hesitation in his face. His jaw moved back and forth, and he stared at her intently, but didn't speak.

  "So… you need to punish me?" she surmised. She wasn't looking forward to it, but she knew she deserved it.

  "You know what? No," he told her, standing up quickly. "You've been through enough. Let's get dressed."

  Hillary frowned and grabbed for his hand as he was about to turn away.

  "Wait! Matt…You've been saying that I need to tell you what I'm feeling, to be honest with you…" She shook her head. "But… I think you need to be honest with me.
What happened last night didn't just happen to me… I mean, it did, but… it also happened to you. Don't you, um, need to share your feelings, too? Doesn't it go both ways?"

  Matteo swallowed hard.

  "My feelings? You wanna know my feelings?"

  She nodded, gripping his hand more tightly.

  "I've never been more scared in my entire goddamn life," he told her, removing his hand from her grasp as he turned away to stalk towards the window. She winced at the raw pain in his voice.

  He laced his fingers together on top of his head, making the muscles in his back bulge and ripple.

  "You know, about six years ago now, I was stationed in the sandbox. And one morning, there were five of us on this Chinook heading for a tiny little village where insurgent activity had been reported."

  She nodded encouragingly, even though he couldn't see her. She had no idea what he was talking about, but she was glad that he was talking.

  "We started taking enemy fire, right? The pilot was taking evasive maneuvers, but we got hit pretty badly. One of the gunners, Reilly, was shot in the neck, he was bleeding all over the deck, the pilot was dipping and swerving so much that I legitimately thought we were gonna drop out of the sky at any point… It's happened to other guys," he said softly.

  "My God," Hillary breathed, twisting the sheet in her lap. "What happened?"

  He shrugged, as though the outcome wasn't worth discussing. "We gained altitude, the pilot was able to straighten us out and get us to base, and I held Quik-Clot to Reilly's wound until we made it back."

  He turned around and looked at her, and the sunlight streaming in the window only highlighted the bleakness of his expression.

  "The point is, that was the most scared I'd ever been, Tink… until last night. And back then I knew I might not make it home, but that was an acceptable risk I took to do a job I felt was worthwhile. A risk I was prepared to take. Last night? Wondering, for just a second, if maybe I'd lost you?" He shook his head. "That's not a risk I can handle."

  Hillary blew out a breath. "And it was my fault," she whispered, watching him closely. "I put you through that."

  He said nothing, but his jaw worked from side to side.

  "You have every right to be upset at me," she told him. She shifted her weight to her knees and crawled across the bed towards him.

  "I feel so stupid," she told him in a small voice. "And so, so sorry for worrying you and disappointing you the way I did."

  "No, baby," he told her, stepping forward to grasp her face in his hands. "Stop."

  "But, I did!" she cried. "Please, Matt. I need to know we're okay and that you really forgive me!"

  Matt closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head ruefully. When he opened them, his bleak expression was gone.

  "I was thinking that not punishing you would be the right thing to do for you," he said, sifting his fingers through the fine blonde hair at the sides of her head. "But I'm thinking you need it as much as I do."

  What had he told her before? Whatever the issue is, the punishment clears the air and we move on. Would that still apply to something this huge? God, she hoped so.

  "I want us to be right again," she whispered, gazing up at him.

  "We will be," he told her firmly, his clear green eyes meeting hers. A little knot of tension she hadn't known she'd been carrying loosened.

  "Hillary, do you know why I'm angry with you?" he asked solemnly.

  She wet her suddenly dry lips. "Because I eavesdropped on your conversation… again," she said in a soft voice. "Because I disobeyed and put myself in danger."

  He nodded. "Those things, yes. But because, above everything, there needs to be trust between us. You need to trust me in order to obey me. And I need to trust that you will obey me and keep yourself safe."

  Hillary nodded, tears of remorse stinging her eyes.

  "Present yourself for punishment, baby."

  Hillary bit her lip. Her breath hitched as she turned herself around on her knees. As she lowered her chest and felt the slick coolness of the sheets against her nipples, her heart began to beat in a crazy rhythm. She dreaded this as much as she craved it. How was it possible to both want something and dread it simultaneously?

  She pressed her cheek to the mattress, stretched her arms out in front of her, and heard Matteo inhale sharply behind her.

  "That's right, Hillary. Arch for me. Just like that," he told her. "Don't move." His tone was stern and demanding, but there was a raspy catch in his voice that promised pleasure. She shivered and closed her eyes.

  She could hear him moving behind her, and she was curious, but didn't dare lift her head to look around. Minutes passed. The HVAC system had kicked on, and the soft breeze on her backside made her break out in goose bumps, as every nerve in her body tensed in anticipation, but she was resolved to stay in position as long as it took. She wouldn't fail him again.

  A moment later, he was behind her once more, and his warm, callused hand roved over the curve of her backside. "That's my good girl," he told her, and Hillary felt tears spring to her eyes. It was exactly what she'd needed to hear.

  "I'm going to use the hairbrush on you, Hillary," he told her. Her breath caught. He'd never used that on her before. Crap.

  "Should you have been eavesdropping on me, Hillary? Didn't you learn your lesson about honesty last time?" he asked. A wave of shame rushed up from her belly, catching her unawares. She tamped it down ruthlessly.

  "No, sir," she whispered.

  Thwack! Bright sparks of pain blossomed across her skin and Hillary bit her lip. It wasn't so awful. She deserved it, and she could take it.

  Thwack, thwack, thwack, thwack. Four more strokes fell across her ass in quick succession, and her entire backside tingled hotly.

  "You disobeyed me, Hillary," he told her.

  "Yes, sir," she agreed.

  Several more hard lashes rained down, until her entire awareness had become centered on her backside, on each burst of pain melding into the whole.

  "You. Are. Mine," he told her.

  Then three more strokes landed nearly on top of one another, all clustered lower down, near her thighs. Tears sprang to her eyes and she blinked them back furiously.

  "And when you risk yourself," he continued, "by disobeying me, by failing to trust me, you are risking the most precious thing in my universe."

  Thwack, thwack, thwack.

  On and on it seemed to go, to the point where Hillary lost count. Surely he would be done soon? Each fresh tongue of fire proved her wrong.

  She'd been determined to hold onto her composure, to accept her punishment meekly, but as the stinging strokes continued to fall, she felt herself begin to squirm. Matteo's firm hand at her back pushed her back down.

  "Hold your position!" he told her, with another firm blow to her sit spot.

  Shit!

  This was way longer than any spanking he'd ever given her. What was he thinking?

  "Matteo, please, are we done?" she begged, in what she hoped was a meek voice.

  "You'll be done when I say you're done, Hillary," he told her, his voice not angry but determined.

  "But I can't take any more!" she cried.

  "Your safeword is red, Hillary, remember?" he said briskly.

  Thwack, thwack, thwack.

  Shit. Did she need to safeword? The spanking was beyond painful, yes, but it wasn't truly more than she could handle. She just wanted to know how much more to expect so that she could brace for it, so that she could… control it.

  Oh.

  And Matteo knew that. Because Matteo knew her.

  And he loved her. And he knew what she could handle.

  She could trust him. She had to trust him. She had to let go.

  The realization brought tears to her eyes that she couldn't keep back and no longer wanted to. A sob welled up from deep in her chest, and before she knew it, she was crying—full-on bawling, in a way that she hadn't allowed herself to cry in years.

  And Matteo was
there through it all. He stopped spanking her and instead began stroking her hair, telling her he loved her, rubbing her back, and reminding her that she was his good girl and he would never, never let her go.

  By the time her tears stopped and the emotional tsunami receded, Hillary felt lighter. Buoyant. Cleansed. Whole. And blissfully in love. She'd never met someone who could make her feel so many things at once… and who embraced her emotions so completely.

  Just when she thought she couldn't handle another emotion, Matteo stroked his hands up her thighs, readying her, sending bright ripples of sensation straight to her core… and she found she could handle just a little more.

  "God, I've dreamed about this," he groaned, his hands holding her hips firmly. "About you yielding to me the way you did, about sliding inside you this way."

  His words, the picture they conjured, made her ache, even as he filled her.

  "Is it as good as you dreamed it would be?" she asked breathlessly.

  He rocked his hips against her backside and made her gasp from the blissful combination of pleasure and pain. Nothing had ever felt so totally right, so perfect.

  "Shit, baby," he panted. "If I'd had a dream like this, I never would've woken up."

  And then, against all probability, Hillary found herself snorting with laughter even as her cheeks were still wet from her tears. Because apparently there was no limit to how many emotions she'd feel when she was with Matteo. And that was fine with her.

  * * *

  Matteo grabbed her hand and dragged her, giggling, down the street to Cara, her high heels slapping loudly on the pavement as they ran.

  "We are so fucking late for this rehearsal," he growled at her unnecessarily.

  Hillary had already received three progressively-more-impatient calls from Heidi, wondering where Hillary was, and she knew Matt had received at least one call from Dom. She was probably shirking her duty as bridesmaid, but Hillary couldn't bring herself to care as much as she should. Marauder was in jail, all of their friends and family were safe and happy (if somewhat annoyed), and Matteo was holding her hand. Everything beyond that was just details.