Enticement (Master Class Book 2)

by Sierra Cartwright

  “Such a pretty sub,” he said.

  “Oh, Sir.” She squirmed as arousal built. “I want…”

  “Talk to me.”

  “Harder.”

  He gave it to her, not with the ferocity she expected, but a solid, steady, rhythmic beat that took her on that journey inside herself where floating and happiness combined.

  She hadn’t realized it had ended, but when she blinked, she was against his chest, comforted by the power of his arms.

  “You’ve made it ridiculously difficult for me to get on a plane after tonight’s party, Ella.”

  For the first time, she was tempted to suggest he stay. But she couldn’t. Didn’t dare. They had an agreement. And she was going to be strong. Damn it.

  She composed herself, smoothing her hair and reaching for the smile she’d perfected while working at the country club.

  He helped her to stand and held on to her waist.

  Ella told herself to pull away, but she couldn’t make her body obey her brain’s orders. “The coffee sounds as if it’s finished brewing.”

  “It does.” He seemed as reluctant to let her go as she was to move.

  It was as if they were both aware of how little time they had together, and how much each moment mattered.

  “Cream and sugar?” she asked.

  “Black.”

  She shuddered.

  “I forced myself to learn to appreciate it. A lot of times cream and sugar are luxuries.”

  Another reminder of his self-discipline and the difference in their lifestyles.

  Pierce followed her into the kitchen. The man consumed her, from the way her skin bore his marks to the way she inhaled his scent. He’d rearranged furniture, even made himself at home in her kitchen. Intuitively she knew it would take time for her life to become ordinary again.

  He’d already placed two mugs on the counter. One was blue, glazed and had a brown moose etched on it. A friend had brought it back as a souvenir from an Alaskan cruise.

  The second was one she’d bought on a whim after a bad day at work.

  He read the inscription aloud, “I was supposed to be a princess. Seriously. Someone better fix this shit.” He traced the gold-colored tiara. “This true?”

  “Some days, I wish it were.”

  “Use it often?”

  “No.” She shook her head. Then she corrected the lie. “Well. Maybe.”

  “Maybe?”

  “Almost every day.”

  Pierce filled both mugs. It had been a long time since a man had been in her kitchen. And she didn’t remember one ever making her a cup of coffee. She was pretty sure it was the first step toward becoming a princess. If so, she wondered where she collected her tiara.

  She added a couple of teaspoons of sugar and a dollop of French vanilla cream to her cup then closed her eyes for an appreciative sip.

  When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her. “What?” she asked.

  “How do you expect me to keep my hands off you when you do that?”

  “Do what?” She looked up at him as she blew on the coffee.

  He plucked the mug from her hand and slid it onto the counter.

  Heat blazed in his blue eyes, thrilling her and making her molten.

  Before she’d realized his intention, he had her back against the cold stainless steel refrigerator.

  He grabbed her hands and pinned her arms above her.

  Shockwaves of awareness ripped through her.

  “Spread your legs, princess.”

  She did not need to be told twice. Ella opened for him.

  He fished a condom from his front pocket. She wasn’t quite sure how he managed—maybe through the force of his willpower alone—to open the package, lower his zipper and roll the condom down his thick cock.

  “Impressive staff, Sergeant.”

  “It’s amazing how resourceful I can be when something matters.”

  “And?”

  “And fucking you right now matters more than anything.”

  He lowered his head toward her and devoured her mouth in a searing, sensational kiss that made her forget her own name.

  “On your tiptoes, Ella.”

  She did as he ordered, helpless to do anything else.

  Pierce pried her knees a bit farther then bent so he could position himself at her heated entrance.

  “You’re ready,” he said unnecessarily. “Hot. Wet.”

  “Yes, Sir.” Everything about him aroused her. “Fuck me.” He must have showered while she’d still been sleeping, and she breathed in his crisp, clean scent, that of spring and seduction.

  He pushed into her, impaling her, giving no quarter.

  “God, yes,” she moaned.

  “I could hold you like this all day.”

  He filled her.

  How long he kept her like that, she had no idea. Their gazes met. For a moment, something ghosted across his eyes. Regret? Doubt?

  While she was still puzzling it out, he began to move. The pressure caught her unawares and she glanced away, severing the connection, the moment lost.

  “The minute I get done fucking you, I start thinking about it again. I’ve been waiting for you to get out of bed. I’d have given you five more minutes, but that’s all.”

  It required all her abdominal strength to take him in this position. He demanded more from her than she’d given anyone else.

  It was soul-searing.

  He found his rhythm in short, sensual strokes.

  She leaned her head on his shoulder, realizing he was supporting her with his body weight.

  He overwhelmed her.

  With his free hand, he reached behind her neck and tugged on her hair.

  He claimed her with another kiss, this one brutal, stealing her breath. Everything he demanded, she gave. Everything she offered, he returned. It, he, this…exceeded her dreams, and an orgasm began to unfurl deep inside. “Sir?”

  “Yeah,” he said, the word graveled.

  Her body went rigid.

  “That’s it. Squeeze my cock.”

  She clenched her internal muscles. He rewarded her with a guttural moan, and she rode a wave of exhilaration. Big, strong, special operator Pierce Holden was weak, for her.

  And then…

  She splintered from the inside out.

  “Fuck…” He tightened his grip on her wrists, holding her in place as he surged up, his cock becoming harder with each abbreviated thrust.

  His breathing was heavy and heated against her ear. There was no place she would rather be.

  She lifted her heels from the floor, leaning into him, trying to accept more from him.

  “Fuck.” He went still for a second then groaned deep in his throat.

  He tightened his hand in her hair.

  She adored the way he did her, possessed her.

  Her calf muscles were quivering by the time he slid from inside her. She had never been more tender than she was right then.

  “I want all of you, Ella.”

  For her, he was like an addiction. The more she got, the more she wanted.

  By slow measures, he released her hair, then her wrists.

  She lowered her arms then shrugged away the tension she hadn’t noticed until now. After making slow circles on skin, he rubbed her shoulders.

  “I think I need a warm bath. I’m starting to fantasize about that as much as I am you.”

  “You’ve earned it. I’ll make breakfast.”

  “You don’t need to leave?” God, did that sound as desperate to him as it did her?

  “I have to help my parents set up. At least that’s what Morgan says. But Mom hired caterers. I suspect the command performance is more of a way for them to spend time with me.” He shrugged. “I need to get in a workout and a run before I head over there. But I’ve got time enough for all that.”

  “Pancakes?” she asked hopefully. “I have a mix.”

  “Do you have flour? Eggs? Milk?”

  “You don’t need a box?�
��

  “Just the ingredients.”

  “There’s a cookbook in the cupboard above the stove.” She pointed.

  “Bacon?”

  Her mouth started to water. “I like to eat a big breakfast on the weekends, but I’m too lazy to go out and get it.”

  “Then it will come to you.”

  “This can’t be real. Pinch me.”

  “How hard? And where?” His grin made her shudder. He stepped back and she realized his jeans were still around his ankles. “You drive a man to distraction.”

  “No apologies for that, Sir.”

  “I suspected as much.”

  She refilled her mug then hurried upstairs to soak in the tub as he moved around, opening and closing cupboard doors and the refrigerator, clattering pans and dishes.

  He didn’t ask questions. And if he cursed, he did it under his breath.

  Was the man competent at everything?

  Within twenty minutes, he shouted that breakfast would be on the table soon.

  She took her time climbing out of the bath before drying off. Then, self-consciously, she left the towel draped over a rack in the bathroom.

  He was right. Being nude made her hyperaware of her submissive role.

  After fluffing her hair, she pulled back her shoulders.

  Then, on impulse, she went into the closet and slipped into the high heels that he liked.

  When he saw her walking down the stairs, he dropped the spatula.

  In that moment, she realized she had as much power over him as he did over her. She looked at the floor so that he didn’t see her triumphant grin.

  He’d set the table with napkins, placemats, even her nice silverware. He’d added a bottle of pure maple syrup and two glasses of orange juice.

  “Pretty fancy,” she noted, watching him transfer the bacon onto a platter. “I figured you would have opted for paper plates and plastic utensils.”

  “And I guessed a princess would appreciate a nicely set table.”

  “I could get used to this shit. Seriously.” She moved a small pile of bacon and a huge fluffy pancake onto her plate.

  He put the remaining food on his own plate.

  Watching him eat was impressive. Fast and efficient.

  In contrast, she wasn’t halfway finished when he went into the kitchen to fetch the coffee pot to refill their cups.

  He sat back to watch her.

  “You’re making me nervous.”

  “Oh?” He took a drink, unconcerned.

  She swirled the last bit of pancake in syrup. “This was amazing.”

  “I cook when I have the chance.”

  “I’m surprised.”

  “I like good food. Don’t have the temperament to go out much.” He shrugged. “So I’m self-taught. Television shows, mostly.”

  “I pictured you as a man who watches sports or history, maybe even military. But a cooking channel?”

  “I have big knives.”

  “Of course you do.”

  “And a barbecue.”

  “Like that old saying, men will cook if danger is involved?”

  He lifted a shoulder.

  Having him at the head of the table, broad and so tempting, while she wore nothing, made the meal and conversation surreal. “You know, Sir, this whole lack of clothing thing is distracting.” How was she supposed to keep her hands off his inviting chest?

  “If I was here longer, you’d have more of an opportunity to get used to it.”

  “A robe would make it easier.”

  “Things that are worthwhile aren’t often easy.”

  “Is that another of your philosophies?”

  “Never thought of it that way.” He slid his cup onto the tabletop. “But, yeah. Like the caning you took last night. The end result was that you were proud of yourself. I thought you were spectacular.”

  “And I had a world-class orgasm.” She popped the last bite into her mouth. “Worthwhile.”

  He gathered the dishes and carried them into the kitchen.

  “I’ll wash the dishes,” she said, trailing behind him. “Since you cooked.”

  He nodded and folded his arms, resting his rear on the counter.

  “Uhm, don’t you need to get ready to go?” She rinsed the plates.

  “Nope.”

  She opened the dishwasher and bent to pull out the bottom rack. “You’re staring.”

  “Yes. I am.”

  “You’re being lecherous.”

  “Dominant,” he corrected.

  “Dominant? How is gawking being a Dominant?”

  “Ensuring my sub is paying attention to details.”

  “Lecherous,” she reasserted when he ogled her ass.

  “Maybe. And maybe I’m thinking of a way to fuck you this afternoon at my parents’ party.”

  “No.” She dropped the dishrag she’d been holding. “Nope. Absolutely not. Not happening.”

  “Want to bet?” He came up behind her, snaked an arm around her waist and brought her back against him.

  Resistance vanished when he pressed his hardness into her.

  Unable to stop herself, she rested her head in the seductive spot just below his shoulder.

  “And do you know what else, Ella?”

  “Hmm?”

  “You’re going to like it.”

  “If it happened, no doubt I would like it.”

  “By this afternoon, you’ll be ripping my clothes off me.”

  She wiggled around, tipped back her head and met his gaze. “You’re on, Sir.”

  He propped the pad of his thumb beneath her chin then captured her mouth in a kiss that devoured her. All of a sudden, she was no longer convinced she could resist him.

  Chapter Five

  “I want you to wear this one to the party.” Pierce plucked a hanger with a little black dress from Ella’s bedroom closet and offered it to her.

  Her eyes were as wide as they were scandalized. “It’s way too short. It’s the kind I wear when I go out with my girlfriends. I’ve never even worn it to work.”

  “It’s exactly the right length. It covers everything important.”

  “But…”

  He perused her gorgeous body, from the fiery highlights in her hair to her painted toenails, and all the delicious, uncovered skin in between. Pierce knew he’d fantasize about this scene in future…a lovely sub, naked for her Dom. “I think it’s perfect.” It wasn’t inappropriate in any way. Since the temperature would be in the low nineties, warm for May in the Denver area, plenty of women would be in similar dresses. “What were you planning to wear?”

  She pulled out a blue, flowy thing that would cover everything, even, he imagined, her toes.

  “You don’t like it?”

  “It’s fine. For another occasion. Such as…” He searched for an appropriate word. “Winter.”

  Ella frowned. “It’s one of my favorites.”

  “The other one will be easier to manage when we have mad, passionate, crazy sex.”

  “Would you stop?” She rolled her eyes. “We are not doing the wild thing at your parents’ house.”

  “Have you seen the way I look at you?”

  “Yes.” She hesitated. “And with your military training and all, you have excellent control. So it should be easy for you to behave yourself.”

  “I think you’ve confused control with stamina.” Pierce couldn’t recall ever having such playful banter with a woman. He should have left an hour ago. “I could fuck you all day. But resist you? Impossible.” Though he was running out of time, he had no regrets. Instead, he wished he had another hour with her. Ella was more than the perfect sub. She was a sharp, beautiful woman he enjoyed being with. There was no tension, no pretense.

  He told himself it was because this was a short-term agreement. But he wished he could be sure of that. “Wear the dress. For me?”

  “I’ll consider it.” Before he could give a fist pump, she added, “No matter what I wear, there will be no wild, crazy, pas
sionate—whatever adjective you want to use—sex.”

  “Wild, crazy, passionate and unforgettable sex.”

  “I’ve told you—”

  “It’s not happening,” he interrupted, repeating her words. “No way. Not ever. Uh-huh. I heard you. Every word.” He grabbed the dress, tossed it onto the bed, then snagged her wrists and secured them behind her at the small of her back. Then he exerted enough pressure to force her onto her tiptoes.

  “If that’s true, then tell me what else I said.”

  “I quote… There’s absolutely no way we are having sex at my parents’ house.”

  “That’s right, mister. I’m glad you understand, Staff Sergeant Holden. Sir. No sex at the party.”

  He captured her lips.

  She tasted of sweetness and sass, laced with the inevitability of her surrender.

  He explored her mouth, communicating in no uncertain terms how much he desired her. Pierce slipped a hand between her legs, teasing for a brief second. Then he squeezed one of her ass cheeks, hard.

  She leaned into him.

  “I’ll see you this afternoon,” he promised as he ended the kiss.

  “What?”

  He released her wrists then took a step back.

  “Wait. You can’t do that.”

  He grinned.

  “Leaving me turned on like this is mean.”

  “Let’s consider that stage one in my devilish seduction plan. I’m calling it Operation Fuck Ella Senseless at the Party.”

  “Operation…?” She gasped. “I’m warning you, Staff Sergeant Holden—”

  “You’ll be ripping my clothes off,” he reiterated.

  “I won’t.”

  “Oh, you will. It’s a promise.” He traced his thumb across her bottom lip. “Do you want to start now? Get a little practice in?” The idea of Ella removing his clothing, one item at a time, made his dick hard.

  She placed a hand on his chest. “Do we have time for me to take your clothes off, Sir?”

  Not unless he was going to be late.

  His bold submissive pulled her hand away and reached lower to grab him through his jeans.

  He allowed her to, enjoying every second of her teasing. Moments before he was going to need to unzip and shove his erection into her mouth, he stopped her.

  Her eyes were wide, darkened to the color of a fine, aged brandy. Perfect. He wanted her obsessed with thoughts of him.