I shifted in my chair. His tongue was dark pink and the perfect length, not too long or too wide, the kind of tongue that looked clean and velvety, gliding across my body and my lips.
My breathing sped up.
Thankfully, our main courses arrived, with fresh drinks and a waitress who got in and out without looking at him once more. I wondered if he made her feel uncomfortable. Women looked at him, but so far, none of them had approached him. I thought that was interesting. Their survival instincts probably warned them to stay away despite their attraction. My survival instincts drove me toward him because in him there was a magical painful kind of life.
He ate his burger with vigor, taking off his suit coat and rolling up his sleeves. It was unbelievably sexy watching him eat such a huge burger, his jaw powering through the massive mound of beef between buns, his tongue licking his lips and lapping at the dripping cheese.
He made it look so good, I dug in much the same way, closing my eyes and moaning at the taste of fat and grease. He moaned in response, agreeing with my wordless groan of pleasure.
“Mmm-mmm,” I managed.
“Mmm-hmm,” he replied.
Conversation ceased as we devoured our food. It was strange for me, and extremely addicting, to exist inside of such a normal moment. I hadn’t known normal could be good. I licked a line of grease from my inner wrist to my palm, stuffing fries into my mouth and drinking beer across from my master.
I gave up three-fourths of the way in. My stomach was in pain, so full it didn’t know what to do with itself. I regretted my dress and the beer.
He finished off his burger with a quiet, “Damn,” and sat back himself, wiping his hands on his napkin. “I don’t think I’ve ever had a burger that good, at least not with a hot woman devouring said burger across from me.” His eyes twinkled.
I was too full and drunk to reply. I was afraid I’d do something embarrassing. Like burp in his face or worse, wish I was a burger.
“Did you really just yawn?” He studied me, an unpleased raise in one brow. “It’s not even eight. I’m tempted to cram some fun down your throat.”
“That the only thing you want to cram down my throat?” I bit my lip to keep from laughing at the shock in his eyes.
He looked away, his lips thinning.
A second later, I remembered why that joke wasn’t funny. In seconds, I was hurt and angry all over again.
“Ready?” he asked curtly, gathering his suit coat and standing to pull it on.
“Jaxon?” I tried.
He didn’t respond but to give me his hand to help me up. He peeled off a hundred-dollar bill from his wallet and tucked it between my empty beer glasses, grasping my hand and leading me out of the restaurant. It was freezing outside, the coast a foggy ice cube.
He turned the heater on the moment we were inside. Down the street, the nightclub pumped music from its open doors, people outside smoking in close to nothing, deep male laughter mixing with the fog. I didn’t know why, but I knew he wanted to go. Maybe Vega stole that time from him, maybe that’s why he was so obsessed with my age. Because his mistress spanked his away.
“You want to go?”
He looked away, sticking his key in the ignition. “No.”
I tried a different tactic. “I kind of want to go. See inside.”
But he chuckled. “You’re incapable of lying. Not to mention that you’re terrible at it. Plus, my sweet girl, you’re not even twenty-one. You can’t get in.” He leaned across the seat toward me, his face open in the most earnest expression, almost as if he were asking for a kiss. I came to him like a soul seeking his, taking the deep toe-curling kiss he gave me with barely contained moans and grabbing. “You really are kind of young.” His eyes gleamed when he pulled away. “Says a lot about me.”
I giggled, snuggling in the front seat as he pulled into traffic. I was stuffed, drunk, and the heater blew warm air across my exposed skin. He was shaking me awake. “Get up, Miya.” I protested, shoving him away. He sighed and scooped me up, carrying me into the cottage and lying me down in the master bedroom.
With my eyes closed, my senses still sought him out. He took my heels off one at a time and set to massaging my feet, scraping his knuckles down my arches in a way that made me feel it in all the tense parts of me.
“I’m going to open a bottle of wine.” He pulled me to my feet and kissed my closed eyes and protesting lips. “I’m going to take you out of this dress first.” He grabbed the skirt part and rolled it smoothly over my waist and pulled it free of my arms, which I rose tiredly. “And these panties.” He guided them over my ass and down my legs, pulling them loose of my feet when I stepped out of them. Bundling the cloth in his fist, he brought it to his nose, inhaling the scrap of black panties deeply.
I watched the entire time in a deep trance.
“Give me your wrists.” He tied my panties around each one and then used the thong part to fasten them, pulling tightly on the tie he created. His fingers moved easily around the knots and twists, like he’d done his best to tie more than just me.
He undressed partially, leaving himself in his charcoal slacks and nothing else; his belt was in his fist. “Let’s go drink some wine.”
I followed him into the living room. The lights were still off—he hadn’t turned them on when he carried me inside—and the moonlight shone off the coast. We were a ways off the beach in the cliff, but I could see the midnight water and the moon shimmering on the inky surface.
He positioned a throw rug right in front of the glass patio doors and opened them. The sounds of the distant beach and the woods came in, soft and soothing in my current ramped up state.
“Sit.” He pointed, belt still in his fist, face stern as I fell to my knees and tucked them underneath me on the deep red throw rug.
I didn’t know what this was, but I went along, because whatever it was, I wanted it.
He came back with two glasses filled with wine, a glass of ice, and his belt was around his neck; the buckles clinked together ominously.
He settled down beside me on the rug. Without speaking, he put an ice cube in his mouth and sucked on it, eyes on the distant beach, leaning back on his elbows.
In the moonlight, my dark angel was in his element. So much darkness with a touch of life, turning his shadows into unfathomable corners and his muscled body into a shimmering land of contours and smooth hard skin.
“You’re not to say a word or make a sound. I’ll guess what you want, and what I want is what you’ll get. If you speak, moan, or spill, that’s five spanks. Anywhere I choose.”
My breasts rose and fell with my heavy breathing.
He slid forward and sucked my nipple into his mouth. I blew it instantly. His cold tongue from the ice and his warm lips sucking softly on my excited flesh had me moaning.
His eyes flashed sinisterly and he rose to his feet, unwinding the belt. “Take your punishment silently. Every response I hear adds two spanks in the same spot.”
He stalked me in a tight circle, my panting body on high alert. His belt fell across my lower back. It was such an odd place to get a spanking and I wasn’t prepared for it. The sharpness of the pain was sensitive on my skin. I reacted. A small squeak. I got two spanks in fast succession in the same place.
The belt floated across my skin a second before he spanked my shoulders. I barely reacted. But he knew I had, and two sharp spanks followed. With my arms bound, the heightening of my senses and the flood of anticipation and want in my blood had me in hyperdrive.
A cube of ice fell from his lips from above me and slid between my breasts and down my stomach, the cube barely missing my pussy.
Before I could recover, his belt met the unprepared flesh of my thighs. I could tell he was getting frustrated with my reactions. His next two spanks hurt on my thighs. I bit down on my tongue as he stalked my body, searching for his next spot. I heard him crouch behind me. He grabbed my hair in his fist and pushed me forward, baring my back to him as my bound
hands tried to find purchase on the rug.
The belt traced down my naked spine. He spanked me across my shoulders hard. I bit down on my tongue and for the first time did not react.
“Good girl,” he purred. He stood, dropping the belt on the rug and returning. He picked up his wine glass and took a long drink, eyes on the water as if I wasn’t on edge beside him. “Part your legs.” I let them fawn open. “Bend at your knees with your heels on the ground, but don’t lie back.”
My core engaged immediately. That was the hardest part. I had a flat stomach and a skinny waist not because I was fit, but because I’d grown up hungry. I had no muscle mass. I just knew I would react.
He took a drink of his wine and set the glass down. Then he lay between my legs, kissing my inner thighs with his lips closed, his throat engaged to keep the wine in his mouth. He kissed up to my core and kissed right above my clit. The red wine warmed from his mouth drizzled slowly down my pussy, dripping from my clit and my sex, curving down my slit and into the carpet.
My abs burned and my inner thighs shook. But I didn’t react.
No reaction got more good, but the more good meant more chances to react. He wanted to cause me pain and pleasure tonight his way. I was his to torture and own.
He took the glass of wine and brought it close, pouring a light stream of wine over my pussy. I wanted to watch, but I had to keep my abs engaged or I’d fall back.
Getting no reaction, he set the wine down and brought his tongue down on me. I bit mine harder to keep from whimpering. He devoured me, deep plunging laps of his tongue. He sucked my clit into his mouth as his hands urged my thighs apart further. Then he looked up and our eyes locked. He sucked my clit harder, my stomach muscles contracted like a wave and my bound wrists fell, my hands settling on his hair.
Between my bound wrists, I held his gaze as he ate my pussy, his tongue sliding slowly from the top to the bottom of me in slow intentional laps. He shoved his tongue inside of me, filling me as deeply as his tongue could.
It was unbelievably tempting. Every muscle in my body was screaming for me to relax, enjoy it. My tongue was swollen from biting it. I didn’t want him to stop. I was so close to an orgasm, I could feel the tingling already in my clitoris. My brain fogged and I felt overwhelmed.
I gave up. I lay down and shoved his face against me by his hair, ready to ride my orgasm out in a bliss of monster and angel.
But he stopped, wrenching me up by my bound wrists. He scooped up his wine and belt, the sound of his swallowing throat behind me.
“You have the best tasting cunt. Sweet and wet. It goes perfectly with this wine.” He leaned over me, letting a stream of wine from his mouth rain down on my chest. The red wine dripped in rivulets over my right breast and around my nipple. It was warm and smelling strongly of spicy fruit.
My toes dug into the carpet.
“Hold out your arms.” His belt traced down my left arm and my right arm before it cracked off them both.
I took it with barely a reaction. He took another drink, watching me as his belt traced a crooked path over my bare flesh. My muscles were coiled in anticipation.
“Put your arms over your head like you’re reaching for the ceiling.”
My breasts perked from the pull of reaching high.
The belt slid across my breasts and nipple, the smell of wine and leather swirling around me. He spanked me across my stomach. The sharp heaviness of the leather on my overworked abs made a small squeak escape.
I saw his grin in the dark. He grabbed my wrists and threw them back, sending my back into the rug. Then he stood over me like a demon cultivating my pleasure and dismantling my heart. He sent the belt across my stomach twice, hard, fast. I reacted. So he did it again. I reacted again. He hit me harder the third time. I bit down on my lip so hard I feared it would tear, but I lasted through it.
“Roll over onto your stomach,” he ordered. “Press your thighs together and cock that ass in the air.”
I didn’t know if the rush of endorphins and trepidation had something to do with it, but I wasn’t drunk anymore. I was high instead. Shooting his dark and swallowing his bad.
The wine slide between my cheeks a second before he spanked me on my backside. I felt him move and then his hands parting my cheeks, baring my hole to him. The wine was warmed from his mouth as it poured across my puckered entrance. Something hot and wet followed. His tongue. I bit into my bindings, my lower back keeping my ass in the air as he licked erotically on me. I heard his growl, his moans, his chains clanking as my monster lost himself. His tongue went on and on, licking me so deliciously, I felt close to giving in. The slight pressure of his tongue on my hole was heady, but the way he licked me was headier.
He was in a daze, feasting on me. His wet laps of his tongue, the groans from his chest, the feeling of his nails digging deeply into my ass as he spread me for him—Jaxon lost control.
He grabbed my wrists and lifted me, pushing down on my lower back and opening me for him. I heard his zipper roll down a second before his cock slammed into me from behind. My pussy and I both screamed as he fucked us senselessly. My body was his and I let him have it, coming so hard around his cock my orgasm lasted the entire time he pounded into me.
I was my own kind of dark when he pulled out of me and I still wanted more. His hot stream of cum shot across my lower back and ass as he growled behind me.
Lost and crazed, he spun me onto my back. He landed between my legs and his tongue was on my core once more. He ate me relentlessly, his tongue caressing my clit and entrance, building the pleasure, burning the pleasure—lighting me in this rapid consuming kind of fire.
His fingers plunged into my tightness and pumped roughly as he sucked my clit. My body trembled as my orgasm started to rebuild. I was both frightened and impatient. This orgasm would be different.
I could feel it.
It rolled over me like a dark tidal wave. I screamed, my throat stuck in a soundless shout of dangerously perfect torture.
He didn’t stop. He pumped his fingers faster, licked my clit harder, building and adding on to my orgasm. Chills broke out across my body and my eyes rolled back into my skull.
My dominant owned me completely and irrevocably in that moment.
He crawled over my bound, destroyed body and grabbed my hands, tangling our fingers where they lay above my head as his lips found mine. His kiss was erotic, deep, I felt how much he was mine in that moment. Even bound, Jaxon belonged to me. His pleasure, his pain—it was all mine as much as mine was his.
His cock teased my entrance before softly entering me. It was a sensory overload to be kissed like everything as he gently made love to me. He rocked his hips into me as his tongue devoured me.
I didn’t realize he was crying until he pulled away to shove his face into my neck and I heard his sharp influx of air. I lay dismantled. I couldn’t think straight, let alone tend to him.
He made love to me in the most loving way. I thought I was beyond another orgasm. Didn’t think I could. But he got one more from my oversexed body. He came deeply inside of me, pressing himself to the hilt and emptying himself as he kissed my neck and slid his tongue over my shoulders.
“What are you doing to me?” he whispered, his deep voice barely a breath in the crook of my neck.
“The same thing you’ve been doing to me.” I brought my arms down his back and hugged him as best I could.
We were in too much of a daze to speak beyond that. I drifted in and out of sleep with him on top of me, still buried inside of me. We slept conjoined on the rug under the moon within the shadows and the light.
Right where we belonged.
20.
I was sore everywhere.
My mind was still in shambles, tattered and torn, as I tried to understand why I was sleeping under Jaxon and why the air was like ice.
Why it smelled like wine, why my pussy was achy. Why my heart was sated, why my soul was too. But really, I wanted to know how I was going to
wake a man who was snoring like a bear without getting bitten and not pee myself silly.
In the light of morning, I was slightly mortified to be bound, naked, and still full of his morning wood. My bladder was pressing.
“Jaxon?” I tapped him with my fingers, my bound wrists hanging down his back.
He grumbled under his breath, burrowing deeper on top of me.
“I’m going to pee.”
“So pee.” He moved his hips once. “Orgasms are always stronger with a full bladder.”
Oh no. We couldn’t have sex right now.
“Mmm,” he rumbled, picking up speed. I was stretched with him; my inner muscles had molded around him overnight. It was the first time he was inside of me where I didn’t need warming up.
“Jaxon,” I hissed, pushing at him with my elbows. “Let me up right now.”
He reached down to massage my clit as he worked himself in deeper. “I’m not afraid of a little pee, my sweet girl. You’re the one who held it for days just to be a brat.” I heard the idea in his voice before he even said it.
“You’re not going to use this as a punishment for something I did weeks ago.” I tried and failed not to react to his touch. “At least untie my wrists.”
He sighed, rose onto his elbows, and looked down at me, his sleepy eyes stern. “If you keep talking I’m going to have to gag you.”
I gawked at him. “Jaxon Damon, you will get off me and let me up, or I’ll—”
He gave me a bored look before he put his hand over my mouth and increased his pressure, flicking my clit back and forth with his thumb as he rocked himself into me. I growled through his palm, but he only pressed harder, dark intense eyes boring down on me. It was the look in his eyes that finally won out my lust. The frightening amount of attention he put on me was heady, to be seen so deeply from the man I wanted to know.
I focused on that look as my bladder begged for release. His hand left my clit to cover my mouth with two hands. I thought that was purely him being a jerk. I was barely making any sound. I was terrified to orgasm. I was seconds from relieving myself and the pressure was building the longer he stroked my g-spot. He seemed to know exactly where it was, brushing up against it repeatedly, hitting that deep ache and pulling the desire right from me.
Dark Master (Dark Masters Book 1) Page 18
