Master of Hearts: A Domination And Submission Romance Anthology

by Erika Masten

  “Sarah’s Seduction: Temptation”

  Present Day

  “Hold out your wrists.”

  Devon’s voice slid over me like warm, thick honey. Sitting on the edge of the hotel bed, I felt my stomach tighten as I imagined what would happen once I obeyed him. An intoxicating paradox of fear and lust overwhelmed me. Bound, I would be at his mercy. He could strip me, fuck me, hurt me, love me, exalt me, or break me.

  All at once or not at all.

  My lips parted, alerting him to the reason why my breathing quickened and my limbs trembled.

  The ruby scarf trailed to the floor when he dropped his arm.

  I was afraid I had disappointed Devon, made him think I wasn’t serious about being here. Before words of apology could trip their way out of my closed throat, Devon crouched before me. He smiled, brushing back my hair with his free hand.

  “I know you’re scared, Sarah. It’s okay.”

  My lips curved into a stiff smile. I wonder if it looked as awkward as I felt. “Are you mad at me?”

  “No, of course not.”

  He trailed the tip of one finger across my chin and down my throat. Goosebumps exploded. Heat gathered and concentrated on the path where he had touched me. I needed to know what else Devon was capable of making me feel even though it scared me grim.

  “I almost didn’t think you’d come.”

  “Really?” My voice was high like that of a schoolgirl. Clad in my black skirt, sensible white dress shirt, and black ballet flats, the description seemed apt. The white lace bra and panties underneath definitely completed the symbolism. In his presence I felt innocent, virginal to all the ways a beautiful, dominant man like him could taint a closet-submissive like me.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The corner of his mouth lifted into a lovely smirk. “Don’t apologize, Sarah.”

  I fixated on Devon’s lower lip, wanting to kiss and take the fleshy part between my teeth. In the pulsing corners of my mind, I craved to be wanton and shameless for him…because of him.

  It was supposed to be so simple and it still can be. I just need to let go and be who I want. And that’s what I’m scared of.

  As if he had read my mind, Devon praised me, words buttery soft and potent. “It was incredibly brave of you to come here.” He squeezed my bare knee. “You do know that, don’t you, Sarah?”

  I swayed forward. His soft voice did delightful things to me. I could imagine myself doing whatever Devon wanted as long as I could listen to him forever.

  Unfortunately, the problem came when marvelous imagining became barbed reality.

  * * *

  Six Weeks Before

  I always liked going to the used bookstore on Tuesdays. No crowds to trip over and the freedom to browse whatever I wanted in relative privacy. Clad in my favorite black wool overcoat and armed with matching scarf and hat, I braved the winter’s chill temperature as I crossed the near-empty parking lot. My eyes fixated onto the lighted interior, imagining how warm and toasty it must be inside, while doing my best to ignore the bladed gusts of wind blowing through the night sky.

  Another brave soul must have also enjoyed this bookstore enough to risk being frozen to death during the trip between car and door. I envied his long legs as I watched him eat the distance quickly. He was going to reach warmth that much faster than me despite having parked further away. I was tempted to run to end the torture but stubbornly kept my rapid-but-not-running pace.

  Dummy, just run! It’s too cold to try and look cool!

  The man reached the entrance and waited. Before I could wonder why he would willingly suffer the frigid temperatures one second longer than needed, he turned towards me. I then realized he was waiting for me. Surprised by his gallantry, I picked up my feet into a peppy trot.

  “T-Thank you!” I managed through chattering teeth just as I stepped onto the curb.

  Holding the door open, he waited until I passed before replying, “You’re welcome.”

  Although I made it a habit to not notice strangers unless absolutely necessary, I couldn’t help but notice the jolt his soft voice created inside me. It made me feel liquid, as if my insides had melted just so I could be shaped into whatever he wanted.

  Dazed by my peculiar reaction, I looked behind me, needing to visualize the face that came with such a beguiling murmur.

  Oh my…

  This man was handsome, gorgeous, fine, sexy, beautiful—every word I’ve used to describe dorky first crushes to celebrity heartthrobs, all of them fit this polite stranger perfectly.

  He was tall, well over six feet. Clad in a charcoal gray pea coat, his frame boasted wide shoulders; the type a woman could always feel protected when resting her head on them. His dark hair glinted with surprising hints of gold at the temples, making me wonder if he had been a blond baby once about thirty years before. His face was all masculine angles, dark, slashing brows, shaven skin, full, sensual lips and the warmest chocolate-brown eyes I had ever had the pleasure of seeing.

  Yes, you are very, very nice to look at.

  I noticed all of this about him in the span of a blink. I composed my face in lines of neutral acknowledgment even as I was sure blushes steadily heated my cheeks to a delightful color somewhere between fire and lava.

  I was also sure I couldn’t hide the unexpected effect he had on me. So I turned about and briskly walked down the nearest aisle. My back burned, itching as if he had run his nails down them.

  I couldn’t look back again.

  * * *

  Present Day

  Devon’s cologne entered me with each deep breath. I rested my head on his shoulder, afraid and excited by being on his lap. His strong arms linked about my waist, confining but not restrictive.

  “I want you, Sarah. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yes.” I felt his hard cock beneath my thigh. It invoked gorgeous imagery of me worshipping it, laving it with my tongue before sucking it deep into my mouth. I pictured him naked, on his back, while I worked him with my pussy. I could almost feel the tug of Devon’s lips on my nipples, alternately paying them gentle attention before turning borderline-vicious.

  But what I wanted to do to him was not what either of us ultimately wanted and therein squirmed my hesitation.

  “I want to take care of you, make you mine. Do you understand all that entails?”

  My eyes seared shut. Images bursting with possibility washed over me much like an orgasm. Shaken, overcome, and wanting all his unspoken promises, I shook my head. The tip of my nose brushed his neck. My lips wanted to follow.

  “I want to play with you, make you my special girl. I want to buy you pretty things, dress you up, and spoil you rotten. Then I want to punish you for it.”

  My God!

  Devon’s wishes were so decadent and barbaric. It should have scared me but I wanted to be his slave princess, bound to him at his feet.

  “Sarah, I want to know you completely, find out what makes you laugh…what makes you cry.”

  “Cry?” Blinking rapidly, I felt my breathing change as if he had already blistered my ass.

  “Absolutely.” Devon kissed my ear, a stingy sort of caress designed to leave me wanting more. “I want to punish you when you’ve been bad just so I can make you a good girl again.”

  Oh God, yes!

  I knitted my fingers together. I imagined him placing me over his knee, one hand wound tightly in my hair. I’d beg, cry that I was sorry and wouldn’t be so bad again even though we’d both know it would be a lie. He’d rightfully tell me to hush before demanding I count out each stroke.

  The first one would shock me to silence. I’d scramble to chirp out “One!” Devon’s hard thighs would hold firm beneath my fidgeting. I’d wrap my arms around his calf, being careful not to unnecessarily crease his dark dress pants.

  I’d make it to seven before breaking. He would shake my head once, barking for me to focus or he’d start all over again. Of course, this would make me cry more but because I wan
ted so badly to please him I’d manage to obey. Just when I’d think I couldn’t take another blow to my tender, flaming ass, my mind would empty out, catapulting me over the pain and into bliss.

  Aware of my breaking point, Devon would quickly gather me in his arms, telling me how proud he was of me and what a good girl I was. He’d wipe away my tears with his thumbs, solicitous to my condition but the hardness beneath my leg would let me know how badly he wanted to fuck me. It would take several, long minutes for me to come down but I’d know I could take as long as I needed because Devon would hold and love me always.

  After I was calm, he would set me on my feet. He’d have me state why I was punished and what I learned. My answers would melt the sternness right off his handsome face. Devon would undress me, kissing the skin he uncovered before pressing me down on my knees…

  I dragged in a shaky breath. I knew what I wanted but was I brave enough to take a chance it might not turn out how I fantasized?

  A hot tear dripped down my cheek and splashed onto my lap. Mortified, I tried to wipe it away before he noticed.

  It was too late.

  Devon ran his hand from the top of my head to the bottom of my spine. “Ssh, pretty girl. Don’t cry. Tonight I won’t make you do anything you don’t want to do.”

  Instead of reassuring me, Devon’s promise filled me with dread. I wished he’d take the choice of submitting to him away, tie me up, and make me his little doll; something to be played with, possessed, owned, and ultimately loved.

  Everything I ever fantasized about, lusted for, lay next to me in the form of a scarf.

  So why was I so afraid?

  * * *

  Six Weeks Before

  The greatest thing about going to used bookstore was you just never knew what you were going to find.

  Anytime a title caught my eye, I ran my finger down the spine to get a feel for it. If it felt right, I’d pull it down. If it didn’t say anything to me, I’d keep moving.

  If the Good Samaritan was a book I’d have grabbed him, paid for him, and had him in bed with me right now.

  Hmm, too bad. What was that saying? Oh, yeah. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride.

  I couldn’t help but be a pervert and wish I could be riding him right now.

  I floated down one empty aisle after another. Nothing snared my interest. The desire to peruse the shelves was nonexistent. My thoughts were much like the scattered cartons dotting the floor; filled and waiting to be explored.

  I just couldn’t shake him from my mind. He seeped into me. The possibilities of who he was clung to my growing desires. I imagined him to be a scholar at one of the nearby universities. He’d own a cat only because I had an affinity for men who preferred cats over dogs. Because of his brilliant mind, he’d be prone to arrogance but that would be tempered by good humor. All in all, he was the kind of man girls like me grew up wanting to marry.

  Marry? Slow down with the wedding bells there, Sarah, you freaky thing!

  I found myself past the romance section and standing in front of the small erotica section.

  Subconscious at work or what?

  Shaking my head at my overactive imagination, I scanned the selection of paperback and hardcover editions crowded onto two shelves. While I wasn’t an erotica connoisseur by any stretch, I did have several of the classic titles in my personal library but nothing really modern. The problem I encountered was so many titles focused on the physical but left the emotional untapped. I wanted both but had yet to really find anything that satisfied.

  I pulled down a copy of Anne Rice’s Sleeping Beauty series. It was the first volume in an older cover I didn’t possess. Engrossed in studying the colorful artwork, I didn’t notice anyone coming down the aisle. It wasn’t until I felt a presence at my arm that I looked up.

  It’s him! What’s he doing here?

  Embarrassment crashed into me. The Good Samaritan caught me looking at erotica books! Damn it, didn’t he know the rules not to crowd at the same bookshelf? Never mind the inadvertent poaching that might happen, it also made sure I’d have my privacy and he would be saved from making judgments on my reading material.

  Temptation to shove the book in my hand back into its spot rode me hard. Clenching my jaw, I refused to give in. I was here first and why should I be embarrassed anyways? Without sex none of us would exist, so why was it okay to do it but not talk about it or write about it?

  Mentally frothing at the mouth in my self-righteous indignation, I almost missed his gesture.

  He had pulled out a book and was currently holding it towards me. Surprised, I took it from him. Before I could thank him, he turned around and walked away.

  Okay, that was weird.

  I looked down and read the title. Nine and a Half Weeks. Flipping open to the copyright page, I saw it was a first edition copy at a really good price. I also noticed a business card peeking out from the next page. Guessing it to be a remnant from the previous owner, I pulled it out in curiosity. Bold graphics in black and yellow energized me. My gaze zeroed in on the bottom right corner.

  Devon McNeill, CEO DM Labs Inc.

  I glanced back to the book’s title page and saw he shared the same last name as the author. I wondered if coincidence held sway or something stranger. I noticed a hand drawn arrow beneath the name. Turning over the card, I saw a note with the current date.

  Hope you take a chance on the book.

  I’ll be here next week on the same day and time if you want to discuss it.

  Numb yet exhilarated, I shelved the Anne Rice volume. I walked to the front counter, selected book clutched against my chest. Smiling on cue as the cashier asked if I found everything I wanted, I glanced over my shoulder, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man apparently named Devon.

  * * *

  Present Day

  “Lie down. That’s a good girl.”

  We lied on top of the beige comforter, my back to his front. My head rested halfway on the puffy pillow and his arm. I drew my legs up and his followed right behind.

  “I’ve never done this before, Devon.”

  “I know.”

  “Gone to bed with a man I barely know, agreed to try a lifestyle I know even less about.”

  “I know.”

  “How?”

  “You’d already be bound, gagged, and naked otherwise, my little kink virgin.”

  A nervous giggle erupted from me as I turned my face into the pillow. “That quick?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “Have you known many kinky women?”

  Devon lightly ran his hand over my shoulder. “I’ve been with a few.”

  Confession was good for the soul. Already I felt tons lighter. Now Devon knew I wasn’t anything like the women he had before. Now he could go if he had any illusions about me.

  My chest tightened.

  Devon stroked my side as if he knew the twisted path my thoughts traveled. His next words confirmed it.

  “You’re thinking too hard, Sarah. I like you and I think you like me. I didn’t want you here tonight for a one-time thrill. I do also want to see you beyond this room. This is just going to be one aspect of us—although an important one. It doesn’t have to be terribly complicated, Sarah, as long as we both understand what we want.”

  I sighed, not sure what to say to that since I already came to the same conclusion.

  “I have a few questions to ask you and I want you to answer me from your gut. Don’t rationalize, okay? Just answer me honestly.”

  Shifting position so my face wasn’t hidden in cotton anymore, I swallowed thickly before answering, “Sure.” I wanted to choke my meekness dead. Where was this coming from? It infuriated me and made me want to stuff my cautious side into a trash compactor.

  “Do you want to be with me?”

  My heart jolted, blood pumping manically throughout a body that swung between lust and fear. I knew this answer. I knew it the first moment he appeared before me. I knew it every moment afterwards.
>
  “Yes. I want that very much.”

  Devon wrapped his free arm around my waist and pulled me closer. “What scares you about being tied up?”

  “That you’re crazy and you’ll hurt me and I’ll end up on the news.”

  Wow.

  Talk about my internal filter not kicking in. I’m sure I offended him. If he was crazy I was definitely going to end up dead—although that was a given since I was already here. If he wasn’t crazy, then I’m sure I just fucked up any chance for something more.

  Devon laughed softly in my ear. “Thank you.”

  He didn’t sound sarcastic but genuine. That couldn’t be right. I pretty much insulted his sexuality and questioned his mental stability. Very unsexy.

  “For what?”

  “For obeying me.”

  My insides sloshed liquid hot and I clenched hard. An unbearable itch reared its lusty head. I wanted to touch myself. I wanted him to touch me more. I wanted him to lick me, to suck my clit between his lips, to finger me while I danced hard on his beautiful mouth.

  “See, Sarah? Being with me doesn’t require that much more than what you just did. You don’t have to think, just feel. As much as I admire your thoughts, when you’re in my bed I don’t want that. I want your instincts, the same part you used when you answered my questions.”

  My thighs shifted. I grew increasingly aroused even though he hadn’t touched me below the waist yet. Between his voice and my wicked imagination, I was primed to be naked and underneath him.

  Devon licked my ear. “You’re responding to me already, Sarah, aren’t you?”

  I shuddered, overcome by the sensation. “Y-Yes.” I didn’t want to deny it. Telling him the truth felt right and natural now. I didn’t have to pretend to be someone I wasn’t. I could be nervous, shy, scared, and very excited.

  “Are you now ready to trust me a little?”

  I pushed my bottom into him and lifted my leg onto his, leaving myself accessible.

  Please, please, please don’t make me say it. You know what I want.

  “Tell me, Sarah.”

  A note of warning sharpened his words. I heeded it even as I craved to push again.