by Dani René
“You said you’re a thoughtful and caring Dominant.” She throws my words back at me, and I’m mentally kicking myself for telling her that. I said it to make her want me, but now that she does, I don’t know what to do with this . . . desire.
“I am,” I affirm.
“Then . . .” her words tinker into nothing when I trail my hand over the right cheek of her ass, my fingers finding her apex. My middle finger strokes her slit. The heat emanating from her is addicting. I stroke her pussy lips, feeling the smoothness below the lace. Fuck. She’s bare.
“Is your pussy smooth?” I ask. She nods. “Have you ever been eaten out?” My question causes her to blush, but she nods again. “Not by me,” I tell her, my finger now pushing the lace into her hole, drenching it in her sweet arousal. Her scent filters up to me, and I can’t help inhaling her. Jesus Fucking Christ. I lift her. Turning around, I place her on the desk, shoving her thighs apart.
“Carrick.”
“Shh,” I grunt, dropping to my knees. I grip the scrap of black material hiding what I need and rip it from her body in one harsh tug. “Good God, Kitten, you have a beautiful little cunt,” I growl. Leaning in, I don’t wait for her to respond and lap at her smooth lips.
“Oh God!” Her cry is loud as I suck her clit into my mouth. My teeth graze the hardened nub of flesh, pulling and tugging at it as her hands find purchase in my dark hair. She tugs and pulls at me, but I’m in control. Or at least, my version of control. My tongue darts into her hole. It’s tight, dripping with slick arousal I drink up like she’s my only sustenance.
My fingers press into the sensitive skin of her thighs, and I know I’m bruising her, but I don’t stop. My mouth is working her cunt, and I revel in how her back arches into a perfect curve, lifting up from my desk. Her whimpers and mewls grow into an erotic symphony echoing around us, filling my ears with the most beautiful song I’ve ever heard.
Peyton is lost in her pleasure, and I’m the conductor. She sings, and I tell her what to say. Our movements sync, our pleasure hits its peak as she gushes, her body pulsing around my tongue as slick, musky, sweet honey drips from her into my mouth, feeding me every ounce of the sweetest juices I’ve ever tasted.
I slow my movements as her body shudders, trembles, and shakes. Her legs are tight around my head, but as she falls limp onto my desk, I release her, rising to watch her eyes flutter open in euphoric bliss.
“Have you ever been eaten out?” I ask again.
She nods. Then, she graces me with a smile that drips beautiful poison onto my dead, blackened heart. That same organ that once loved, ceased to beat for almost eight years. Fear grips me along with need. I want her, but how can I ever be with someone when my heart is not mine to give?
6
Peyton
When my eyes finally open, I stare at the most beautiful golden eyes I’ve ever seen. They’re sparkling in the dim light with desire and lust. He smiles then, almost ruefully, and I wonder if he’s sorry he just made me come all over his desk.
“You’re beautiful when you lose control,” he rasps with satisfaction. His fingers thread through mine as he murmurs the words. I sit up as he helps me onto wobbly legs.
“I don’t often allow myself to feel, to let go.” My honesty is raw as my throat burns with emotion. I walked in here to give in to the need I’ve been feeling for the past two days. Every night when I went to bed, he haunted my mind. Each morning when I woke up, it was his eyes I wanted to look into. It’s strange having someone you don’t know occupy every part of your day.
He did that to me. And now that his lips glisten with my arousal, I find myself wanting more. More of him. More of this feeling that I am a woman who can be desired.
“Were you serious?” he asks, dragging me from my thoughts, causing my eyes to snap up to his, meeting his curious stare. “You want me to train you? To take you on as a submissive?”
“Yes,” I respond. Stepping closer to him, I trail a fingernail down his tie, then I grip it, pulling him closer to me. “I want this,” I whisper on his lips. My tongue darts out tentatively to lick the juice from his full lips. The familiar flavor of my desire bursts on my taste buds.
I may be a virgin, but I’ve played with myself and tasted my own juices from my fingers many times. I was always curious as to why men enjoyed going down on a woman. Michael was more experienced than I was, and when I asked him, he told me every girl is different.
After spending three long years with him, I never trusted him enough to have sex. To give him that part of me. I’m not religious, so I wasn’t saving myself for marriage. All I wanted was someone who’d give me the same pleasure I give him.
“If I train you, we do it no strings attached. I don’t do well with being tied down,” he utters, and I can’t stifle the giggle bubbling in my throat.
“Is that why you enjoy tying others down?” It’s a playful response to his rather serious words. It earns me a dark chuckle which vibrates in his chest.
“Kitten, if you only knew the things I want to do to you and your perfect little body,” he rumbles, his hands finding purchase on my hips as he tugs me closer, pressing what I can feel is a rigid erection against my stomach.
“I can tell, Mr. Anderson,” I say, pursing my lips as I press a kiss to his. It’s slow, sensual, but as soon as his tongue asks for entry, I allow it easily. He licks into my mouth, tasting me as I do him. It’s addictive. This feeling of need that drives people to fuck.
No emotion. No love. Just pure animalistic fucking.
I never understood it. How you can allow someone into your body without feeling anything for them. But the way Carrick kisses me, I can believe that many women have given themselves to him freely. Begged him. Because as scared as I am, I want it.
“There’s something I need to tell you first,” I whisper against his mouth, sucking his tongue into mine, harder, flicking my own tongue over his. Teasing him. Needing him to make me feel something other than this numbness I’ve been living with for so long.
“Honesty always. Tell me, Peyton,” he says. The darkness that swirls in his eyes remind me that he’s a stranger. I may not know everything about him, but I find myself confessing.
“I’m . . . I’ve never been with anyone.” My cheeks heat with embarrassment. I don’t know why, but shyness overcomes me in that moment.
“You’re a virgin?” His question is pure shock. I lift my gaze to his, meeting his impossibly beautiful golden eyes. I nod. “Jesus.” The word is grunted, his fingers press harder into my flesh. “How can you want this life?”
“I want to learn. I want to find ultimate pleasure, but I want you to do it. Savannah’s told me a lot about the different things . . . I mean . . . There’s just so much . . . Please, Carrick?” I plead. I’ve heard her stories where she’s confessed to feeling free. Of finding pleasure in spanking or being blindfolded and flogged. She’s even told me about pinwheels. Small metal spikes used during sensation play. Yes, I’m a virgin, but I’ve heard enough to know this is what I want.
“If I do, this is between us. We fuck, we play. I’ll drop you into the darkest abyss of desire where you’ll question yourself, your body, your needs, but you’ll want it. Ache for it even. We’ll indulge in anything you want to learn.” His words only add fuel to the already burning fire within me. “You will learn this life each time we’re together. I’m going to push all those rigid fucking boundaries you’ve become accustomed to. I’m going to break them down. As I take pleasure from your body, you’ll find euphoric release each time, that I assure you.”
I nod, opening my mouth, but he places a finger on my lips to silence me.
“But one thing I need to make clear, Peyton. You’ll give me your body, your mind, but never, and I mean never allow your heart to get involved. It’s not what I want. And it’s not something I can give back. I only take what I can give in return. This isn’t a relationship. It’s an agreement.”
“No hearts. Got it,” I mumble against h
is finger, which now trails over my upper lip, then my lower one. I open, taking the digit into my mouth while meeting his stare, sucking on it, causing his gaze to darken with unadulterated lust. It’s clear, staring back at me, his beast that hides in plain sight comes forth.
“I’m bad for you in so many ways,” he remarks with pain hidden behind each syllable. As much of an asshole he was the night I first met him, there’s agony lacing his tone. I see the broken man before me, and all I want to do is fix him. But I learned from a young age, you can’t change someone if they don’t want to be.
I’ve had good men forced upon me by my father before he found Michael. Men he thought would make perfect husbands for his princess. But they were all not interested in the innocence. They wanted girls who they could parade around on their arm. I was the nerdy girl in jeans and Chucks.
“I never asked for a good man,” I tell him honestly.
“You should be careful, Kitten. There are men out there who will only use you if you say something like that.” He says this to scare me. To give me an out, but I don’t take it. Instead, I bite down on his finger, flicking my tongue over the tip, eliciting another deep groan from him.
When I finally release him, I respond, “Like I said before, Carrick Anderson, never judge a book by its cover, because there are always pages that hold the darkest secrets.” I want to tell him about my life. About how I grew up and all the things I’ve seen. I want to give honesty a chance, but like he said, this isn’t a relationship.
“Then indulge in my world for a few weeks. Give yourself time to learn, to experiment, and to experience. If it’s something you hate, you’ll know. If you take to it, then you’ll be able to find a Dominant and know what he’ll expect of you.”
Nodding, I take a step back and toe off my shoes. He watches me like a hunter would watch its prey. That’s what he is. A predator.
Before he has time to ask what I’m doing, I drop to my knees before him, my fingers work the zipper of his slacks, and I shove them along with his boxers down. His cock, thick and hard, juts out in my face. It leaks with his arousal, and I lap at it, taking in my first taste of the man who’s going to be my owner for a month. Veins trail maps along the rigid shaft, and I lick each one, reveling in his flavor.
“Peyton,” he hisses when I take the crown into my mouth, allowing my tongue to dart over the tip, taunting him. My eyes snap up to his, meeting his gaze as he fists my hair. “Jesus,” he utters again as I slide his shaft deeper into my mouth.
The movement causes his hips to jerk forward. The head of his cock slips into my throat, causing me to gag. My eyes tear up, but I don’t blink. I allow myself to breathe through my nose.
“How does a fucking virgin know how to suck a cock like a slut?” he bites out, pure unadulterated pleasure on his face. He’s handsome. He’s stunning, breathtaking. I can’t believe I’m doing this. “Can you take me all?” He grunts through his clenched teeth, and I know he’s barely holding onto his restraint. I don’t move my head, but I shift my hands behind my back, giving him wordless consent to take me.
His nod is all I need to know he’s about to use me. With his hands fisted in my blonde locks, he pulls out and drives back into my mouth. The movement causes me to choke again, but he doesn’t relent. He takes his pleasure from my mouth.
Again and again.
In and out.
Deeper and faster.
My clit throbs with need to be touched, but I know better. I’ve read all the books. I recall how Savannah told me stories about not listening to Mason. If he hasn’t given me permission, I will not touch myself. He fucks my mouth like a man possessed, and I’m kneeling at his feet, praying for more. My inner masochist awakens, and I want him to hurt me, to give me pained pleasure so profuse I can no longer live without it.
I want everything this man is giving. His body shudders as his cock jerks in my mouth, shooting jet after jet of hot release onto my tongue, and my throat works to swallow quickly. His head drops back then, and he chants my name. He sings it to God above, but I know there’s no one up there. I’ve known that all my life.
In the heart-numbing pleasure that’s racing through my veins, I know the only one who can hear Carrick now is the devil who taunts me from the fires of hell. The one who’s gifted me the life I’ve lived. As much as I want Carrick to believe I’m a sweet, innocent girl, I know deep down my heart is as black as coal. I learned life is one fuck-up after another. So here I am. I fled to Chicago, and I’ve found someone who can give me purpose.
He slips from my mouth. I lick my lips at the salty taste of his release. Gently, he reaches down, offering me his hand. “There’s something about you, Kitten,” he says with the lightest touch to my face. Stroking my cheek, he leans in and plants a kiss on my lips. “Something so damn dangerous,” he says, not knowing just how true his words are.
“I could say the same about you,” I tell him. My eyes rove over him as he tucks himself back into his slacks. Once he’s zipped up, he smiles, his gaze on me.
“You’ve proven to be a good girl so far. We’ll test your limits as we go. I want you to sign an NDA, an agreement that we are doing this together. That you’re asking me to be your Dominant. It’s nothing serious. It’s just to ensure we both get what we want out of this.” I turn as he passes me, heading to his chair. He slips into the seat, opens his laptop, and pulls up a document which starts printing behind him.
“And what is it you want out of this?” I question, unsure if I want an answer or not.
He doesn’t look at me for a moment, and I wonder if he’s going to afford me a response. When he finally drags his attention to me, he meets my questioning gazes and smiles. His mouth curls into a smirk so full of promise, dark and alluring, yet frightening at the same time, It makes me wonder if the stories I’ve heard about him are true.
“I get you. I get closure. And I get my final goodbye,” he tells me confidently, causing me to furrow my brow in confusion. His full lips purse into a tight line.
A serious expression darkens his face, and I know that if I pushed, he’d either punish me, or he’ll close off. Even so, I take a chance. “That sounds forbidding. Are you planning on killing me once we’re done?” I joke, seating myself on the edge of his desk.
“I’m planning on taking back a part of me I lost a long time ago. Something I will not tell you, but let’s just say, as I help you learn, you help me heal.”
“A broken man.” I nod, watching his eyes darken as he narrows them at me. “What did she do to you?” I ask, knowing I’m pushing buttons because his mouth turns severe. He rises from his chair, rounds his desk, and plants a hand on either side of the wood where I’m sitting. As he leans in, fear skitters down my spine. His expression is thunderous. Almost murderous.
“If you ever ask me something like that again, I won’t go easy on you. I’ll make those pretty green eyes drip tears all over my hard cock while I shove it in your throat. Then, once you’ve gagged on my dick, I’ll bend you over, whip you until your ass is a bloody mess, and fuck your tight little virgin hole until you’re screaming, begging me to stop. However, like I said, I’m not a nice man, so I won’t stop. I’ll continue owning your body until you’re a whimpering mess on the floor. Do you understand me?”
Placing my hands on his chest, I push him away, hop off his desk, and stride over to the bar. Grabbing the bottle he was drinking from earlier, I pour myself a steep shot and down it in one long gulp, savoring the burn. When I turn to him again, I smile. “I understand,” I start, swaying my hips as I near him again. “Let me tell you something, Mr. Anderson. You don’t scare me. I may be a virgin, but I’ve seen worse, been through worse, and I’ve survived worse. Which means any threat you throw my way, I’ll take, I’ll own, and I’ll walk out on the other side with my head held high and my tight little pussy ready for more.”
We stare at each other for a long while. We wage war between each other in those moments. Him needing me, me aching for him. Bo
th dangerous to the other, but not wavering nor walking away. This man may be the one to finally make me fall. And that is the only thing that scares me.
He reaches up. Cupping my face in his hands, he brings his mouth crashing down on mine in a kiss so heated, filled with so much yearning I’m tempted to jump on him and beg him to fuck me right now. My hands grip his shirt, pulling him closer, as if we can climb into each other, to mold ourselves into one form and sear our souls in the darkness it seems we both revel in yet try to run from.
My body yields to his in a way I’d never experienced. His fits along mine like it was always meant to be there. He pulls away, his face a picture of perfection. Angular jaw, prominent full lips, his eyes, those golden-colored orbs, pin me to the spot. His hair is a mess of dark waves, one falling just over his forehead making him look younger. His face almost more youthful than his possible mid-thirties.
“You’re quite the challenge, Kitten,” he says with pride.
“I’m much more than that, Carrick. So much more.” It’s not me being overconfident. It’s the truth. When I walked away from my life in New York, nothing could stop me from starting fresh. When Savvie told me to come here, to spend time in Chicago with her, I didn’t think I’d be walking into an agreement like this.
“Tell me.”
Shaking my head at his command, I step away from him, needing space. The claustrophobia seems to strike me then, knowing I’ll never be able to tell him who I really am. What I’ve really done.
“I don’t like asking twice, Kitten.”
“I thought you said no personal details?” I respond, turning to glance at him over my shoulder. He doesn’t answer, merely shrugs. “Don’t ask me to give you something you cannot give in return.”
“Touché.”
With that, I turn, grab the contract which lies on his desk, and leave him in his office. But before I go, I tell him while staring at the wooden door before me. “I’ll get back to you with this.” I wave the pages and step out into the hallway.
