by Opal Carew
Opal Carew
Can she find happiness in the arms of a man she doesn't love?
Feeling lost and abandoned by the man she loves, Sylvia tries to bond with her new Master, Mr. King. Sylvia will do anything to please him as he dominates her with a strong hand—commanding her, disciplining her, even sharing her with his business partners—just like Mr. Grant did. Mr. King fulfils her every fantasy. But unlike Mr. Grant, he cherishes her, and shows her the love she craves. She truly wishes she could give him what he wants. Her love. But she knows in her heart, she will never stop loving Mr. Grant.
5 Stars!
Very well written, makes you feel as if you could be one of the characters in this story. I like how they don't cut her any slack and make her fantasy come true with a bang.
Annette
5 Stars!
Totally HOT and sexy!
I loved it. Where were my friends like this when I was single? Holy mother! I hope there's a sequel. I want to see how it works out with the big boss. :)
Slinkydennis
4 Stars!
Exciting and Intriguing
Exciting and intriguing book, as always kept the sizzle throughout the whole novel. I could not put the book down till I finished reading it all.
Leslie
The Office Slave
#6: Yes, Sir
Copyright 2016 Opal Carew
Discover more books by Opal Carew at her website
www.OpalCarew.com
Ebook Design by Mark's Ebook Formatting
All Rights Are Reserved.
No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.
This is a work of fiction. All of the characters, organizations, and events portrayed in this story are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
First edition: February 2016
www.OpalCarew.com
To Wes
with hugs
Opal Carew
A knock sounded at the door and Sylvia’s gaze jerked to it.
“That will be your new Master.” Mr. King handed her a brown envelope. “The contract is in here. I've already signed it. Go answer the door and give it to him.”
She walked toward the door, her stomach churning as she realized Mr. King hadn't said for sure that it wasn't Mr. Robertson he was selling her to.
She reached for the doorknob and turned it. Then she pulled the door open.
Sylvia’s heart stuttered when she saw his tall, muscular frame in front of her. She glanced up into his glittering blue eyes.
“Mr. Grant.”
“Hello, Sylvia.”
Numbly, she handed him the envelope in her hand. He took it and drew out the paper inside and glanced at it, then he smiled.
“It seems I'm your Master again.”
Sylvia sat in the car beside Mr. Grant, her heart pounding. Could this really be happening?
Did she really belong to Mr. Grant again?
Joy soared through her at the thought. She wanted to be in his arms. To be swept away in the passion of his kisses.
But he'd said nothing to her since he'd told her he was her Master again. He'd just led her through the hotel to his car in the parking garage.
She wanted to know what he was thinking. How he felt.
But Mr. Grant wasn't the kind of man to share his feelings.
He pulled up to his house and got out of the car, then opened her door and led her inside. She knew it should feel like coming home, but in truth, she'd only been here a very short time, especially compared to the weeks she'd spent with Mr. King.
She stepped out of her shoes and turned to Mr. Grant, not knowing what to expect. She gazed into his inscrutable steel-blue eyes.
“I'm… glad I'm back,” she said. “Mr. King was good to me, but...”
As she stumbled through the words, his undecipherable expression changed. He stepped toward her, his eyes blazing with heat.
His arm came around her waist and he pulled her tight to his body, then his lips swooped down on hers, claiming them with passion. His tongue drove into her.
She felt herself backed up, then the wall pushed against her back.
“You are mine.” His words spiked through her. Possessive and challenging.
He grabbed her wrists and pushed them over her head, then pinned them to the wall with one hand. She arched against him.
He pushed under her sweater, his hand cupping her naked breast beneath. She cried out at the intense delight of his big fingers squeezing her gently as his thumb stroked her hardening nipple. He pushed her sweater up to her shoulders and gazed down at her exposed breasts.
He pulled the sweater over her head and tucked it behind like a cushion, the sleeves still encasing her arms. When his lips brushed the pulse point at the base of her neck, she murmured softly, quivers dancing down her spine.
Then his mouth covered her nipple, the warmth of him surrounding her, and her head dropped back against the wall as she moaned.
He sucked and she gasped, her body trembling with need. His hand glided down her belly, then tucked under the waistband of her jeans. His fingertips brushed close to her intimate folds. Oh, God, she wanted him to touch her there.
She heard the snap release, then the zipper opened. His fingers glided over her delicate petals of flesh and she arched against his hand. He pulled it away again, using it to push the jeans down past her hips. As they thumped on the floor, his hand found her again.
“Oh, Mr. Grant. Yes!”
His fingers slid inside, finding the wetness there. His mouth moved from her breast to her neck and he nuzzled.
“You're wet for me,” he murmured against her ear.
“Yes, Mr. Grant. I want you so badly.”
He laughed and claimed her lips. His fingers glided deeper inside her, stroking her passage. Need coiled inside her, tighter and tighter as she squeezed him inside her.
“Do you want me to fuck you?” he asked.
“Yes. Oh, please.”
He nipped her earlobe, sparking her need higher.
“What do you say?”
“Master, please fuck me. I need you.”
He laughed again, a joyful sound. She heard his zipper, then felt his hot tip bump against her heated flesh.
Oh, God, he was going to be inside her again.
He glided over her slickness, teasing her until she thought she'd die of need. Then he centered on her and glided forward. Her wet flesh parted as he speared into her. Slowly. Stretching her. His thick cockhead dragging along her canal.
He pushed in. Deeper and deeper. She pushed her wrists against his hand, just so she could feel the power of his grip around her. Pinning her to the wall.
“Oh, fuck,” he mumbled when he was halfway in. “I've missed being inside you like this.”
Then he drove the rest of the way in, his groin hard against her, compressing her against the wall. But all she could feel was his thick shaft inside her. Filling her.
She could stay like this forever.
He started to move. The feel of his hard cock dragging back over her sensitive skin, sparks flaring through her, made her moan.
Then he thrust deep again.
“Yes,” she exhaled.
He drew back and thrust again.
“Oh, God,” she whimpered.
He lifted her knee, opening her wider to him and thrust deep again, then again. Pleasure hummed through her, every cell vibrating.
He pivoted his hips, changing the angle and she cried out as th
e wild sensations knocked her off balance.
“Oh, please, Master. Fuck me harder.”
He surged forward, driving her hard against the wall, stealing her breath away. Now he drove into her like a jackhammer. Fast. Hard.
She panted as her body flooded with quivering, boisterous joy. She could feel the orgasm fast approaching. Her body trembled as his big cock pumped into her with lightning speed.
Mr. Grant seemed wild and out of control. As if his need for her overrode everything else.
“Oh, God.” A wave of heat washed through her and her insides melted. “You're… Oh… making me come.”
Then it hit her like a tsunami. Her senses exploded in a surge of frantic joy. She arched against him, her moans filling the room. He plunged deep again, then pinned her to the wall as he groaned his release. Hot come filled her insides and she wailed again, the pleasure shooting higher still.
He pulsed against her, his body tense, moaning.
Finally, they collapsed together, his hard body holding her tight to the wall. His hand released her wrists and she wrapped her arms around him, reveling in the feel of him so close. Holding her so tenderly.
Finally, he drew back and smiled.
He stroked her hair from her face and she felt like he was going to kiss her, but then he drew away.
“Your room is ready for you. I'll get your things from Mr. King's later, but you really don't need much right now.” His gaze shifted to her sweater, still tangled around her shoulders. “Like that sweater. You should take it off.”
“Yes, Mr. Grant.”
She pulled the sweater over her head.
As he watched her, his smile faded. He stepped closer and ran his finger along her neck, under the rhinestone collar she still wore. She'd totally forgotten about it.
“This goes.” He reached around her neck and unfastened it, then clamped his fingers around it and slid it in his jacket pocket.
He tipped up her chin. “I have some meetings this afternoon, then a dinner appointment, so I'm going into the office now. Do whatever you want this afternoon, but I want you ready and waiting for me at seven sharp. Understood?”
“Of course, Mr. Grant.”
He smiled. “Good.”
Mr. Grant couldn't believe he had Sylvia back. Life had been pure hell without her.
He had insisted that Mr. King let him see Sylvia on her birthday, unrelenting until he'd finally convinced him. Mr. King really did care about her and knew that Sylvia wanted to see him. So he'd agreed.
Then this morning, Mr. King had called him, saying he would give her back. When pressed, he'd admitted that once he'd seen them together, he couldn't deny the connection between them. Mr. King felt that keeping Sylvia from him was cruel and unfair, and he cared too much for Sylvia to do that to her
Mr. King said that it was clear that Sylvia loved Mr. Grant. And he returned that love.
The fact that Sylvia loved him made Mr. Grant swell with delight. But whether he returned that love or not… didn't matter. He would find a way to conquer the feelings and keep them in check, whatever they were. He would keep control. Of her and of his feelings.
She wanted him to control her, so it would be good for both of them. Together, they would find a way to be happy.
At five to seven, Sylvia stripped off her clothes and knelt on the living room floor beside the fireplace, waiting for Mr. Grant to return. The hours had passed slowly this afternoon while she'd longed for him. Now each minute that ticked by seemed like an hour.
The clock on the mantel ticked past seven. She ached inside, longing for his touch.
Finally, at about seven ten, she heard the door open. She could hear his footsteps on the hardwood floor leading to the living room. Then he stood in the doorway. She gazed downward, being properly submissive, but she could sense the heat of his gaze gliding over her.
“Face the fireplace and bow down,” he commanded.
She turned around, still on her knees, then leaned forward until her arms rested on the floor, her cheek pressed to the carpet, her ass still in the air.
“Yes. That is how I'd like to see you when I come home.” He crouched behind her and stroked over her ass, then down her thighs.
She desperately wanted him to brush her sensitive folds.
But he didn't.
“Very good.” His hand slipped away and he stood up. “Now I have something for you. You may stand up and face me.”
She pushed herself to her feet and faced him.
He handed her a pink shopping bag. “Go and put these on and come back here.”
“Yes, Mr. Grant.”
“Call me Master tonight. Or Sir.”
“Of course, Master.”
She took the bag and went to her room, then pulled the items out. There was a leather bra and very short skirt. But there were also a couple of other items in boxes. One box contained nipple clamps with a chain connecting them, as well as beads dangling from each one. The other was some kind of device to attach around her clit, according to the directions.
She donned the bra and skirt. The bra was a half-cup, leaving her nipples uncovered. She attached the nipple clamps. The chain hung between her breasts and a little string of beads dangled from each nipple, giving a little extra tug on her clamped buds.
Next, she fiddled with the clit thing. It was like an elongated U, about four inches long. It was a little tricky, but she was able to slide it into position with a little patience, the curved part curling around her clit. The long arms of the metal clip clamped her folds together. As soon as she had it in place, she found the gentle pressure around her clit very stimulating. The device kept her clit pronounced and exposed
A little string of beads hung from the clit clip, too. When she stood up, she saw that it dangled below the hem of the short skirt.
She started to walk toward the door and drew in a breath at the low level stimulation of the clit clamp. The sensation was mild, but delightful.
She walked into the living room and stood in front of Mr. Grant. A broad smile spread across his face as he stared at her clamped nipples. Then his gaze lowered to the beads dangling from between her legs. He reached forward and touched the beads, making them swing a little and she drew in a breath at the quivering sensation.
He lifted the skirt and stared at her bare pussy, then stroked up the beads, stopping short of touching her.
“Do you like this on you?”
“Yes, Master.”
He nodded, then tugged lightly on one of the beads dangling from her nipple, making her nub ache. He ran his finger along the chain between her breasts, then pulled. A sharp sensation spiked through both nipples.
“Turn around and bend forward.”
She obeyed. The skirt was so short, she knew her ass and pussy were totally exposed to him. His fingers glided along her folds. Her insides quivered with the need to feel more of his touch. His finger lightly brushed over her clit and she gasped. The sensation was so much more intense than usual.
“Very good. Now sit down beside me.”
She settled onto the couch beside him.
“Keep your legs open.”
She opened her legs, knowing anyone standing in front of her would see everything under the short skirt. Mr. Grant picked up the remote control and turned on the TV. As soon as the show started—some kind of documentary—his hand glided up her thigh, then his finger brushed her clit. Electricity spiked through her.
During the whole show he would occasionally brush over her sensitized clit, keeping her at a level of arousal that drove her crazy. When she arched or squirmed, he instructed her to be still, which was a difficult feat. Even when his hand lingered out of reach, just resting in her thigh, her clit throbbed.
She wanted his attention. Needed it desperately.
As if sensing her yearning, he stroked her clit again. She stifled a moan. Even the lightest brush sent her close to the edge.
He stroked again and this time she couldn't stop the deep
moan from escaping her lips.
His finger played over her and she arched. “Oh, Master. I'm so close.”
“Don't come.”
The pleasurable sensations washed through her, and she clung to her desire to follow his commands, but she was slipping… fast.
He continued to stroke her bud lightly. Her head tossed back and forth.
“Oh, please, Master. Let me come.” She arched, pushing her bud tighter to his finger.
At a sharp tug on her nipples, her eyes widened. He'd pulled the chain.
Then he stroked her clit again.
“Oh, please,” she whimpered.
His hand drew away, leaving her clit burning with need.
He stared at her bud, which had to be pushing straight up, tingling at the heat of his masculine gaze.
“Touch it.” His words, spoken quietly, but with authority, quivered through her.
She brushed her finger over the bud. Pleasure vibrated through her.
“Stroke it quickly.”
She flicked her finger over it rapidly, heightening the sensations.
He removed her nipple clamps, then squeezed her nubs as he watched her, rolling them between his fingertips. She moaned, his touch combined with her own bringing her closer and closer to the edge.
“I can't...Oh, God, please, Master. I beg of you.”
He sucked on her nipple, a deep draw into his mouth. She felt herself slip to the edge, hovering on the precipice.
“Come now.” Then he suckled hard.
A shocking jolt of pleasure spurred her over the edge and she wailed, filling the room with the sound of her release. The orgasm washed through her like a flash flood, brief but intense.
Mr. Grant flicked the clit clamp from her, freeing her folds, then his fingers drove inside her. The feel of the thick digits stroking her passage, sent her over the edge again. As he thrust inside her, his tongue found her clit and he licked it. Her wail turned high pitched as she exploded in ecstatic bliss.
He kept her riding the wave, with licks and strokes that kept her insane with need.
Finally, the pleasure faltered, and slowly faded, until she was slumped on the couch panting.
