She’d laid her head on his shoulder after her climax and he was stroking her back as she nuzzled his neck. Her tongue traced the bottom edge of his ear lobe and then she whispered. “Fuck me, Jasper, please. I want you to fuck me.”
No way in hell was he going to say no to that. He rolled them as one so she was on her back underneath him, but pulled out. “On your tummy. Knees together, ass up.”
She followed his orders, burying her face in a fluffy pillow and bracing her hands against the headboard. She’d be glad she had.
He straddled her below her hips, parted her cheeks and angled himself inside her. She felt different this way and he squeezed her small body between his legs before he grabbed a hank of her hair and started fucking her, hard. If he could make it last, he knew he could squeeze another orgasm out of her like this. It was the one position that could get her off without him having to stimulate her nipples or her clit. Maybe because they were rubbing against the bed, or maybe because it made her feel subdued, conquered. He held off as long as he could and just before he was about to explode inside her, he swatted her ass hard, and she gasped.
“Oh, god, Jasper, I’m going to come. I’m going to come.”
“Do it, Keyne, come on, I want to feel what I do to you.”
She shuddered beneath him, wracked with relief and he let go, his own release spilling deep inside of her. All this, from a giggle. He loved her.
Chapter Twenty-two
July
Time to put Keyne to bed. His most and least favorite part of the day. Least because it meant he would be without her for hours upon hours, most because he loved the way she fell asleep under his hands, the comfortable surrender she offered without a second thought. She trusted him so much she could sink into dreams, some that still haunted her, believing he would be there if she needed him. Because he would be.
Tonight he had a special surprise for her, one that had kept his cock half hard whenever he’d thought of it—which was a lot. He hoped she’d be as happy. But if he knew his little girl, and he prided himself that he did, she’d be thrilled.
She was already in the bathroom when he came in, a headband pushing back her burnished hair so she wouldn’t get soap in it. He admired her from the door, how comfortable she looked performing her bedtime ritual without a stitch of clothing on. Beautiful. When she was through she turned and noticed him, her face lighting up. “I didn’t see you there.”
“I know.”
She sank to her knees in front of him, lowering her head and spreading her hands, palm-up over her knees. He petted her, the soft hair smooth under his fingertips. “I have a treat for you, little one.”
“For me?” Keyne wasn’t much for trinkets and baubles and though he’d hand her the world on a platter if she asked for it, she wouldn’t. She had that ease of anti-consumerism that came of never worrying if she’d have enough. There was always more than enough and it bored her. You couldn’t throw objects at a girl like Keyne and expect her to be impressed. Carefully thought out, meaningful, spare gifts? That was the way to her heart.
“Who else would I spoil?”
She flushed, pretty clouds of pink blooming on her cheeks, overshadowing the sprinkle of freckles.
“No one.”
“Come on then, it’s time for bed.”
She followed him on hands and knees to the bed and he drew back the covers as per usual. Confusion darkened her face, but she didn’t protest, didn’t ask questions, and fuck did that make him hot for her. She climbed up and lay back, waited for him to tuck her in. Instead, he reached a hand under the covers at the foot of the bed and drew out her gift. When she saw what it was, her eyes went glossy and fever bright. He smiled as her hands curled into the sheets.
He wrapped the padded cuff around her ankle and she looked like she might die, but she closed her eyes, steadied her breath and only when she heard the click of the lock did a moan escape from between her lips. He’d bet his Aston Martin she was soaking wet.
When it was secure, he gave her permission to try it out. “Go on, see how much you can move.” Or, what would excite her more, how little. The chain that attached the cuff to the bed wasn’t long—she wouldn’t be able to stand on the floor—but it was enough to allow her to roll over, to seek his body on his side of the bed if they got separated during the night.
She made a tiny pleading noise when she tugged her ankle against the restraint, and her eyes had gone wide. “Thank you, Master.”
He leaned over to plant a kiss on her forehead and she squirmed underneath his touch. Perhaps this wasn’t a great idea. She was going to be so horny she’d be impossible to get to sleep.
“You’re welcome. Although it’s really for me.” The lie came easily, knowing his pretense would make her even hotter. “My cuff, my chain, my key, my girl. All mine. There’s a spare key under the mattress in case of emergency, but if you use it under any other circumstances, the punishment will be severe. Do you understand?”
“Yes, Master.” Keyne wouldn’t touch that key unless the house were on fire, and the thought brought his desire to a boil. He stripped off his tie and jacket, discarded his cufflinks, and rolled up his sleeves before he fell on her.
He claimed her willing mouth with his, thrusting a tongue between her teeth and sweeping it through her mouth, tasting every inch of her. Fresh and cool, he kissed her until the last lingering taste of toothpaste was gone and then kissed her more while she pressed her slim, naked body against his.
He sat back, straddling her thighs and slapped a breast, earning a startled gasp that turned into a moan, silenced by another slap to the other breast. He hit her until her small, high tits were pink, nipples hard and begging to be suckled, so that’s what he did.
She was writhing underneath him and he could time almost to the second when the breathy desperate noises would turn into begging. How he loved to hear her beg. “Please, Jasper, oh, please.”
“Please what?”
“Fuck me, Jasper, please. I need to be fucked.”
He grabbed a handful of her hair and wrenched it in his fist, pinning her to the pillow. “You need what I say you need and you’ll get what I allow you to have. You’re such a naughty, undisciplined little thing. Haven’t I taught you better than that?”
It was all part of the game. He loved that she could only hold out for so long before she started begging. He supposed he could train it out of her, but he loved how frantic and desperate she got, how wild he could drive her. He didn’t want a stony, perfectly obedient submissive. She was flawed and needy and he liked her that way, enjoyed gently mocking her lack of self-control.
“Yes, Master. You have. I’m sorry. I know better. It’s— Oh!” He’d cut off her apologies with a hard twist of a nipple.
“You’re new, aren’t you? Not used to being used like this? Is it too much for you?”
He punctuated his questions with hard rolls and tweaks, eliciting squeaks and squeals and he knew she was close, so close. She loved having her breasts treated so roughly.
“Teach me,” she begged while he worked her over. “Please, I promise I can learn to be good for you. Please, Jasper, keep me.”
Though she didn’t do it on purpose, those words were just as good as her safewords to him. Keep me. Whenever the thought entered her mind that he might not, he knew he’d pushed far enough, maybe too far. He unzipped his fly and spread her legs, a surge of blood rushing to his cock when her ankle caught on its tether. God that made him burn for her.
He pushed inside her with no preliminaries and fucked her hard, driving moans and pleas from her with every thrust. He fucked her with abandon, letting his control slip for a moment because no matter how crazy it made her to get fucked this hard, she couldn’t come from it. So he drove into her until he was close and then pinched a nipple, twisting the hard peak between his fingers and tugging away from her body. “Come on
Tinker Bell, come for me. Show me you’re my good little girl and come for me.”
She mewled and twisted underneath him and a second later, her pussy clenched around his cock. It took a few more vicious thrusts on his part until he spilled his release inside her. Was there any better feeling in the world than claiming a woman like this? One who wanted to be claimed, conquered? If there was, he hadn’t found it and he’d looked. Alcohol, drugs, nothing compared to this.
He rolled off her, zipped up and took her in his arms, holding her tight and close. She was still pressing against him making those desperate noises and he smiled. So sensitive, so pretty. He held her until her tremors stopped and her breath was deep and even, well on her way to sleep. At the first sound of her piglet snores, he disentangled himself, dragged the covers over her and headed down the hall to get back to work.
When he came back to their bed several hours later, she was curled up on her side, hands tucked up by her chin. He briefly entertained the idea of restraining her that way at night as well, but then she wouldn’t be able to finger the star on her bracelet. If he couldn’t be there to comfort her if she woke, he wouldn’t take that from her. So not a regular thing. Maybe a special occasion. He climbed in beside her, tempted to lift the covers to see her ankle tethered to the foot of the bed, but he knew if he did he wouldn’t be able to get to sleep without shagging her again. She needed her rest; they were going to Yale tomorrow so she could start getting used to campus before September.
It was thoughts like that that brought him up short. Most of the time, she was Keyne and he was Jasper. How old they were and what they did while they were apart didn’t matter nearly as much as what happened when they were together. So often he felt like the hours he didn’t spend with her were filling in the gaps between time when he could have her by his side again. A distraction, an annoying dream to be waded through until real life restarted.
But sometimes he remembered she was only eighteen. He’d been mastering her in one way or another since she was seventeen. Though he’d like to think he’d gone about it honorably and with the best of intentions, he sometimes worried this life he’d introduced her to wasn’t what she would have chosen if she’d known anything else.
Power exchange was intoxicating and heady, but just because you were addicted to something didn’t make it good for you, didn’t make it what you really wanted. He’d seen more than a couple of people who did a line or two at the occasional party turn into serious cokeheads to maintain that delusion.
Would Keyne have stumbled into this if Gavin had lived? Would Gavin and Keyne have ended up playing these games? Would his bounding puppy of a brother have been able to get it up to offer her the control and the dominance she craved? Or would his brand of enthusiastic affection have been enough for her? Would she not have realized this was an option? Would she have wanted it if she did?
An idea started forming in his mind. One that would let him keep her if this was truly what she desired, but would offer her a release valve if it wasn’t. He’d feel like his veins and arteries had been ripped out, his body a useless shell with a heavy aching heart the only reminder he was alive, but he would live. And so would she. Maybe more happily than she would with him. The thought of her with anyone else made his muscles tense so hard he had to mindfully relax and bury his face in her hair to forget.
Not yet. He wouldn’t have to give her up yet. For now, he would keep her.
Chapter Twenty-three
August
It was the day before she left for New Haven. Yale wasn’t far, but anything that put more than fifteen minutes between her and Jasper made her anxious. New Haven was an hour. Despite Jasper’s best efforts to make her feel good about it—visits to campus, encouraging her to be in touch with her suitemates, leaving Yale T-shirts and pennants in her room—she’d been getting increasingly worried about it.
The nightmares that had never left got worse and she’d wake up more frequently in a panic, clutching the star dangling from her bracelet and tugging at her ankle until the resistance comforted her. She was not at all thrilled she was going to live in the dorms and therefore couldn’t keep a cuff chained to the foot of her bed. It hadn’t occurred to her when she’d insisted on staying in the dorms as she was supposed to. Not that it would be the same, opening and closing the lock herself, but at least in the middle of the night, the pressure, the sense of being held would be a relief. She’d have to rely on the star on her bracelet to remind her.
She’d considered asking Jasper to come and put her to bed while she got used to being at school. She was pretty confident he’d do it, but she was already going to have enough of a hard time at school. No need to pile on the weirdness factor of being put to bed like a child. Bad enough there’d be more people to learn her story, cast her sympathetic glances, offer trite apologies, and in the case of boys, use insincere sympathy as a way to try to get in her pants.
Lying on her chair in the bathroom, she waited for Jasper. She had strict instructions, her favorite kind, to not get ready, that he would prepare her himself. What might that mean? They weren’t going anywhere, so he would have myriad ways to torture her, make her ache for him.
When he walked in, it was in a navy blue suit and a tie she’d picked out for him. It entertained her, the small ways in which she could leave her mark on him as he left his mark on her. He studied her for a few minutes, his eyes lingering over the body she’d posed just so when she’d heard him enter her room.
“Come here. Not on your knees.”
She followed him into her dressing room and sighed when he draped her over the stool. He worked in silence, inserting a plug and a dildo, larger than the ones he usually chose for her. Sometimes it was an ownership thing; he did it because he could. Tonight wasn’t one of those, though. Tonight, he wanted her constantly aware of the toys he’d pressed inside of her.
The harness was fastened around her to keep the toys in place and he had her step into a dress he’d picked: green and close fitting, the top constricting enough that it gave her a tiny bit of cleavage. She could barely breathe and she liked it. The shoes on offer were high and narrow—she’d need to cling to him for balance as they went down the hall to the dining room and walk in small, mincing steps. Her pussy squeezed around the dildo buried in it. He was going to make her crazy.
He always made her crazy.
Jasper settled her at the table, pushing her chair in, and sprawled in his own seat. The way he took up so much space, so casually . . . Out in the world like on the subway or at a table in the school dining hall, a man doing that would’ve made her crazy. But here, with Jasper? Her lungs tried to expand beyond her constricted ribcage. It was so sexy. The entitlement, the ownership, the mastery. It made her rub her thighs together.
He clucked at her, shaking his head. “Be still, naughty girl. I want to look at you, pretty like a picture for me. You’re my little doll to toy with, aren’t you?”
She stifled the moan rising in her throat. Yes, she was. “Yes, Master.”
She sat still and silent, his eyes roaming over her and it made her ache in so many ways. Most of them she was used to, delighted by, reveled in, but there was something about the way he looked at her she didn’t quite like. It was a note she wasn’t used to hearing in the symphony of his want for her and it unsettled her stomach.
The first course came and she sipped at her soup as she was bade. Lobster bisque, one of her favorites. Jasper asked her questions in between spoonfuls, mostly to do with her packing. Was she ready for tomorrow? It would be a busy day.
Then their places were cleared and helpings of hake almondine placed in front of them. She was chewing her second mouthful when Jasper sighed and her heart lurched against her ribs. Something must be wrong. A sigh was not a characteristic noise for Jasper.
“We need to talk about school, Keyne.”
“What about it?” A thrill ran through her when
she thought he might tell her she couldn’t go, he couldn’t bear to be without her, he was going to chain her to their bed and never let her out. But he wouldn’t do that. He was too responsible.
“While you’re in New Haven, I think it’s best if we don’t . . . do this.”
Her fork clattered to the plate, the sound of the silver clanking against the china echoing through the suddenly tomb-silent room.
“What do you mean?”
His eyes were dark under his heavy brows as he focused on her. Mostly she loved the weight of his attentions, but right about now, it felt like she might be crushed by them. “I mean I won’t be your master while you’re away.”
Jasper’s face blurred through the tears rising in her eyes and there was a rushing in her ears, like she was caught in rapids and being carried along and couldn’t grab onto anything to drag herself out. “Why? Did I do something wrong? Are you tired of me? You promised, Jasper.”
He’d promised he would keep her and now he was throwing her away? How could he? Her hands curled into fists in the tablecloth so she wouldn’t throw something at him, and her chin trembled. She was doing her best to fight back tears but it was hard. He was abandoning her.
But he wasn’t. He was right by her side and then lifting her up, cradling her on his lap as he took her seat.
“You didn’t do anything wrong, Keyne. I’m not tired of you. If anything, I love you more than I ever have. I’m crazy about you, addicted to you. I’ve never wanted someone as much as I want you. You’re perfect for me.”
His soft sure words in her ear eased some of her worries, but the overriding reality was he was ditching her, leaving her alone and, especially with all the pretty words he’d just given her, she didn’t understand. “So why are you leaving me?”
He ran a big hand through her hair as he urged her head to his shoulder and rocked her. “I’m not leaving you, sweetheart. You’re leaving me.”
His Custody Page 22
