by Nina Pierce
What the hell happened to break the spell he’d cast?
Derek had subdued the wise-ass submissive who’d entered the room. He’d felt the power shift as he’d pressed her against the wall, her doubt melting at his commands and turning to trust. He’d drawn closer, intent on satisfying them both.
But Sara had checked out. He felt the truth beneath his fingers.
He straightened and stared at her. From all outward appearances, nothing had changed. She was a model submissive, eyes cast down to his chest, her shoulders thrown back, displaying her luscious breasts. But she had retreated somewhere—and not the thrilling expanse of subspace. They hadn’t even gotten to that point.
Derek expected not only total submission, but he wanted his slaves to be present for the taking. There would be no satisfaction for either of them if she didn’t come back to the moment—didn’t consciously and willingly give what he demanded.
With every intention of pulling her from wherever she’d gone, he needed her to acknowledge him. “The bench,” he commanded.
Sara obeyed, but her stiff movements betrayed her docility.
Even as she laid on the soft padding, her breasts hanging tantalizing on either side of the narrow bench, he could see she’d turned on some autopilot switch and separated herself from their scene. He pinched her swollen nipple and her body reacted immediately as her flesh pebbled beneath his fingers. But that was only physical—the emotional submissive had hidden herself behind some wall he now had to circumvent for the pleasure of both of them.
Scooping her golden curtain of hair to one side, he nibbled at the delicate shell of her ear. “Only the beginning, Sara.” Her eyes were shut tight, refusing to acknowledge him. The thought nicked at his shaky confidence.
His mind raced with conflicting emotions.
Ethan had trusted him enough with this woman to send them to his private dungeon.
Perhaps his friend had known this fragile submissive was just who Derek needed to find his dominant side once again. If he could get her to push past her wall of doubt and insecurity, perhaps he could also find pleasure and satisfaction in his abilities.
The shaky ground where they stood would be his battle field. But before Sara could believe he was capable of guiding her through her inner turmoil, he would have to prove it to himself.
He ran his fingers down her spine, feeling the tension of fear knotted in her muscles. “You’ve brought this punishment on yourself, Sara. Open your eyes. I want to see your obedience.”
Her lids fluttered open, her gaze clouded and unfocused. Derek would be damned if he’d let her shut herself off from him.
He could rise to this challenge.
He hadn’t known this is what he wanted when he left Boston this morning. But here, with this beautiful—obviously wounded woman in front of him—Derek understood why Ethan had extended the invitation. Derek needed to get back into the game and allow his dominant nature free rein or he’d never be truly whole again. He needed to dominate a woman who submitted without reservation.
In her present state, Sara wasn’t that woman.
The white-knuckled grip she had on the legs of the bench spoke of a submissive teetering on the edge of panic. Something had triggered this beautiful woman’s retreat. It was his promise as her Master to let the pain shatter the walls surrounding her fear and release the darkness clouding her eyes. He needed to strip away whatever bound her to the gloom and replace it with pleasure.
Derek couldn’t accomplish any of it without Sara’s complete trust that he would be there holding her and keeping her safe from whatever demons she would face.
He had every intention of earning that trust if it was the last thing he offered her this night.
His palm smoothed up the back of her leg, his fingers brushing the swollen flesh of her damp folds. He inhaled the heady aroma, letting it fuel his own pounding desire.
“I’m going to punish you now for your disrespect.”
“I deserve nothing more, Master.” Her voice was tinny, a hollow echo of the brazen bursts in the hall.
He chose a double-strapped paddle from the wall behind him. Slapping it against his palm as he walked back to her, he let her hear the sound and anticipate the pain he would deliver. He smacked it twice more on his palm before bringing it down hard on her ass.
She barely flinched.
He paddled her several times in rapid succession, reddening the luscious flesh of her ass in a mosaic of stripes. Her heavy lids slid to half-mast but didn’t close. Her breath quickened, tearing from her lungs in ragged puffs. Her nails bit into her palms as she fisted her hands around the legs of the bench.
She wasn’t fighting the pain, just the opposite in fact. She welcomed each hard slap of the leather, coming up on tiptoe, her hips canting to offer more of her ass to him. He obliged her with several more spankings. Moisture glistened on her nether lips and coated her thighs. She was obviously aroused by the pain, but something was definitely—off.
It wasn’t subspace making her glassy-eyed, but some inner turmoil only she could see. It kept her distanced from the dungeon—separate from him.
Fine. Challenge accepted.
Dragging the leather across the sensitive skin of her cheeks, Derek gauged her readiness. Her back arched and the taut muscles of her thighs quivered in anticipation. So well trained to the pain, the spankings alone had carried her to the edge of release. He tested his theory with three quick smacks to her glowing cheeks. When her back bowed and her chin lifted, Derek knew she was waiting for his command before rushing headlong into the abyss of bliss.
But he wouldn’t allow it. Not until her thoughts and desires—her every breath—was dependent on him.
“You are not to come until I give you permission.”
“Yes, Master.” She dragged out the title, pausing only a moment for his command. “I’m sure I haven’t learned my lesson. I deserve more.”
Exactly what he expected, she was too eager to accept the spankings. He needed to change tactics and find a way around her defenses. “No, obviously you haven’t.” He dropped the paddle, unwilling to offer the pain she needed to remain in control.
He moved to the side, standing in front of her unfocused eyes. “Sara, look at me.”
Startled at the command, it took a moment for her gaze to travel up his torso, hesitating at his chest, and then moving to settle on his mouth. He wasn’t sure if it was protocol that kept her eyes from finding his or the walls of armor she couldn’t see around. Either way, he was going to make her acknowledge him.
“Who does your body belong to tonight?” He unzipped his jeans and pushed them down his thighs, releasing his erection.
“You of course, Master.” Her gaze flicked down to his cock before she caught herself and focused again on his chin.
“That’s right.” He rubbed the head of his cock along her mouth, painting her luscious lips with the moisture beaded at its tip. He would wield his power until she was so overwhelmed with him there would be no one and nothing else.
Every breath would be filled with his scent, his musk melting on her tongue. Every thought focused on pleasing him. And when her body was clenched tight, begging for the relief of his cock to ease the heavy ache, then and only then, when she’d thoroughly and completely given herself over to his commands, would he allow her to soar in ecstasy, his gentle caresses proving how much she was cherished. “What you need, want or desire is of no consequence. This is about obeying me. Pleasuring me.”
“Yes, Master.” Her monotone voice clawed at his confidence.
Derek steeled himself against the panic tightening his chest. This wasn’t really about him and his insecurities. He needed to get Sara to stop thinking and analyzing so he could expose everything, including the demons possessing her.
“And right now, Sara, I want you to suck my cock.” Derek was pleased the words came out low and even despite the heavy pounding of his heart.
Her velvet tongue flitted out, eagerly li
cking the tip before sucking the mushroom head into the heat of her mouth. “All of it.” Derek twisted her hair in his fist, both to encourage her to take him deeper and offer support as she craned her neck to get a better angle.
With an eagerness he hadn’t anticipated, she sucked harder, drawing him into her mouth. The sublime pressure of the wet heat surrounding him sent electric jolts of bliss straight to his balls. He sighed out her name as his cock bumped the back of her throat and he pulled back. Her tongue flitted along the underside of his shaft as he slid nearly all the way out of her mouth. Leaning her head toward him, she hungrily swallowed his erection again, opening her throat and allowing him deeper.
His hips pistoned to the steady suction of her mouth, each thrust forward sinking himself into her silken warmth until he was fully enclosed in her mouth, her lips buried in the halo of his pubic hair. He gripped her hair tighter, holding her against his body as she sucked relentlessly, milking him.
He studied her eyes. Those beautiful sky-blue eyes that had twinkled with mischief as he’d guided her to the room. The eyes that now stared blindly at his hips. The eager sparkle of anticipation that had brought out the Dom in him—was now extinguished.
Even on remote control, Sara’s technique was amazing. Sensual heat bunched in his back and zinged along his nerves. The sexy slurping sounds of her mouth being fucked echoed off the walls with his own ragged gasps. The scent of Sara’s arousal wrapped around his nose and his body begged to fall into the sensations.
He couldn’t.
What she offered was no better than fucking a whore in the back alleys of the Combat Zone in Boston. An experience he’d never had, even as a horny fraternity pledge at Wentworth College a decade ago. And despite the fact that she’d brought him to the edge of reason, he pulled his body from her mouth.
He couldn’t reach her.
Obviously, he wasn’t the man she needed.
“Attila the Hun,” Derek said, frustration and hurt riding on the words, making them unusually loud.
The startled O of her mouth would have been comical if he wasn’t so pissed at his own inability to pull her from the darkness of whatever haunted her.
“Master?”
He shoved his wet erection into his jeans, hastily adjusting himself as he buttoned and zipped his jeans. “Attila the Hun, Sara. Your safe word.”
It took only a moment for her to drop her defenses and clear the haze of detachment, which pissed him off all the more. He should’ve been able to push through them.
“We’re done here, Sara.” Anger at his own shortcomings sliced through him, shredding the small bit of confidence that had brought him to the island. He stomped to the bondage chair, grabbed his T-shirt and angrily pulled it over his head.
“But I don’t understand.” She pushed up from the bench. “Did I do something to displease you?”
He focused on tucking his shirt into his jeans. “No, Sara, I just think—”
Grabbing his forearm, she took him by surprise. He stopped and stared at her trembling fingers. His gaze traveled up her arm, caught the heavy pounding of her pulse in her throat before settling on the confusion furrowing her brows and glistening in her eyes.
“Punish me then,” she begged. “I’ll take whatever you think I deserve. Just don’t leave like this. I can give you whatever you want.”
“The problem is I can’t give you what you need.” He turned and left, praying he was making the right decision. He felt every unshed tear glistening in her eyes like a punch to the gut. It took every ounce of willpower he had to walk from the dungeon, every step testing his resolve and ripping at his very soul.
Chapter Three
Damn, it stung.
Sara rolled onto her back in the beach chair. The thick cushions cradled the tender flesh of her ass that still held the marks of her Master’s punishment. But that pain was nothing compared to the sting of rejection Derek had dealt her last night. She was still reeling from the blow.
Lying on her private stretch of beach for over an hour, the morning sun cocooning her in warmth, Sara had been going over and over every detail of the previous night, coming back to the same conclusion—Derek wasn’t as inexperienced as Ethan had led her to believe.
A gentle breeze blew off the ocean, cooling her skin and fluttering the gossamer curtains of the cabana where she hid. Sara knew she was a coward, but she had no desire to run into the man who hadn’t found her worthy. No Dom had ever used her own safe word and walked from a scene. She wasn’t really sure how she was even supposed to react to that reality.
Sara could deny it all she wanted, but the man had deserted her, leaving her needy and wanting. It wasn’t even the fact that she’d been teetering on the edge of orgasm—because, shit, the man had known how to wield a paddle—it was how he’d bumped up against her defenses and had chosen not to ignore them. No other Dom had pushed the way Derek had, and she’d been proud her walls had stayed intact. Unfortunately, he would have none of it. Despite her pleas, the man had left the dungeon because she refused to give him anything more than her body.
She’d known what he wanted last night when he’d walked away from her. She’d been unwilling to trust him—or any Dom for that matter. Oh, she trusted them to keep her physically safe. Trusted them to push her to her limits of sublime pain. Even trusted them to be discreet about her fetishes. But she’d never trust them to strip away her defenses and expose her insecurities.
Her heart was safely tucked away behind stubborn walls of doubt where it would stay.
No one would ever again touch that part of her. Never again would she belong to anyone. Been there. Done that. Have the scars on my soul to prove it.
Gulls squawked overhead, alerting Sara that she was no longer alone.
“Did someone order breakfast?” Ethan called from the walk. His rich baritone voice washed over her, warming the chill Derek’s rejection had left.
“Over here, Ethan,” she called, wondering how many other guests had the privilege of room service delivered by the manager of XTC Resorts at Pleasure Cove. Stretching lazily, she worked out the tension in her muscles and stood.
Ethan’s bare feet carried him up the two stairs and into the raised cabana. A large basket overflowing with food filled his hands. The white cotton pants, slung low on narrow hips, billowed around his muscular thighs. He wore no shirt, and Sara took a moment to enjoy his toned pecs and washboard abs as he set the basket on the small table beside her. Heat flooded her cheeks when he turned and caught her staring.
He bent and placed a chaste kiss on her lips, amusement sparking in the ebony depths of his eyes. “Like what you see?”
Sara refused to give her friend the satisfaction of admitting she’d totally been checking him out. “XTC Resorts is a paradise,” she replied, casually lifting a shoulder with the corner of her mouth. “What’s not to like?”
“Yeah, whatever.” He laughed as he pulled out a chair and invited her to sit at the table.
“So, how did I rate your company this morning?” she asked. “Don’t you have more important things to do than check up on wounded birds?”
The hesitation of Ethan’s unpacking was so brief Sara could have brushed it off as her imagination. But when he looked at her, she had no doubt he’d known how last night had ended. “Can’t a guy just want to have breakfast with a lovely woman?”
“Nice recovery.” She rolled her eyes and shook out her napkin, laying it across her lap as if it could protect her from the truth. “Did you and Derek do the whole Do you have any idea how screwed up that sub is? or did the guy just flat-out ask for a refund?”
Setting the basket aside, Ethan settled in the chair across from her and simply stared. Her dear friend had deserved neither the tone nor the attitude. Unfortunately for him, she was feeling grouchy enough to want to take out her frustration on someone. Ethan just happened to be the only available target and he knew it.
“I caught sight of him leaving the club by himself last night.
” Ethan spooned fluffy scrambled eggs onto a plate, added some fresh fruit and a croissant and handed it to her. “And I saw a shaky submissive slink out thirty minutes later without her collar. Eat.”
Her body responded to his command, automatically picking up the fork and spearing a strawberry. But her sour stomach rebelled at the thought of digesting it and she set it back down again. “How’d he look?”
“Frustrated. Confused. Disappointed. Pick one.” Ethan dove into the huge mound of eggs he’d served himself.
“Not angry?”
“Angry?” Another fork full of eggs stopped halfway to his mouth. “Why would he be angry? You know better than that, Sara. Nothing you did or didn’t do in that dungeon would ever make a good Dom angry.” He ate the eggs and poured them both coffee from the ornate carafe he’d set on the table. “And Derek might not believe it, but he’s one of the best. Why do you think I invited him here this weekend?”
She took the cup he offered and added three packets of sugar and a heavy dollop of cream. “I thought the Doms you invited this weekend had come for training.”
“There are all kinds of reasons Doms train, not all of them have to do with inexperience. You should understand that better than anyone.” He winked as he lifted his cup in a mock toast.
She wanted to be angry. Wanted to rail against what he’d set her up to do this weekend. “I wasn’t the one who was doing the training last night, was I?” She fingered air quotes as she spoke. Clarity dawned.
Ethan set down his cup and leaned forward on his elbows, his fingers steepled in front of his lips. “You can’t hide forever, Sara. I won’t let you.”
Tears stung the back of her eyes. “It’s not really your choice, is it, Ethan?”
“You can do this. Let this weekend be a chance for you to see that there are good guys out there. Let the past go.” He wrapped her hand in both of his. “History won’t be repeating itself. I won’t let it. Trust me. Trust Derek.”
“He did talk to you.”
“He cared enough to want to know what he’d done wrong and how to fix it.” Ethan shrugged and sat back. “Yeah, we talked.”
