by Maren Smith
Their timing couldn’t have been better. Distracted by everything else that was going on—the explosion, Carmen, Kaylee, his cousin, arguing with the building code enforcer about reopening the Castle—Marshall had relented far quicker than he would have otherwise. He’d given them a solid dressing down and demanded that Tasha apply once again through the proper channels. She was to fill out all the paperwork—honestly this time, he’d reminded her with a steely glare—and if she passed all the requirements, he would officially employ her.
Tasha and Eamon had managed to wait until they were outside Marshall’s temporary office in one of the outbuildings before falling into one another’s arms with passionate relief. “At least your CPR cert is real so you won’t have to do that again,” Eamon had quipped, his kiss cutting off her breathless giggle.
Dominick, despite his imperious, infuriating, “I told you so,” was thrilled—not only because he’d once again been right and could rib Eamon about it forever, but because he could genuinely see how happy Tasha made his best friend.
And she did. Eamon had never known such joy. At first, he’d been unsure whether it really was love he felt for her or simple lust, but when that bomb had gone off…
Tasha, as he’d come to find out, had thought the exact same thing.
Now they were inseparable, spending every spare moment they had in one another’s arms, eating together, sleeping together…
He had become, Eamon reflected, allowing his hand to trail further down until he was tracing the fresh welts on Tasha’s plump, perfect ass, as annoyingly devoted to his woman as his friends were to theirs. The brief time they’d spent apart—while she’d gone back to Wabasha to give notice on her apartment and pack her belongings before coming back—had been enough to prove that he could no longer imagine his life without her in it.
And he wouldn’t have it any other way.
She was resting her cheek on his thigh now, her arms around his calf, still kneeling at his feet. It was her favorite position when she needed to come down and relax.
“Sweetheart,” he said gently.
“Yes, Sir?”
“Sit up.” It was a command she immediately obeyed, rocking back on her heels and gazing up at him with devotion shining in her eyes. “Do you know what this is?” He held out the box containing the slender, rose gold collar he’d had especially crafted for her.
She nodded. “A collar, Sir.”
He smiled. She no longer needed to be reminded to use honorifics—they slipped from her lips automatically these days. “It’s your collar, if you’ll have it.” Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew a much smaller box containing an exquisitely wrought capital ‘E’ pendant. “Well,” he added, “my collar, actually.”
Funny, how just a few short weeks ago, he would have been rewarded with a blank stare but now, after an intense indoctrination into the lifestyle, the implications of what he was saying made her eyes fill with tears.
He cleared his throat, hardly able to believe what he was doing but unable to imagine not doing it. “Tasha,” he began, “would you do me the honor of—”
“Yes!” she cried, leaping into his lap and covering him with kisses. “Oh my God, yes! Oh, just wait until I tell Lishy, she’ll be—”
“Wearing my collar to let the whole world know that you are mine?” he interrupted her, gripping her hair and yanking her face back, fixing her with his best Dom glare.
It worked, as it always did, and she settled immediately, gazing at him with eyes filled with love. “Yes, Sir,” she breathed. “Always.”
He kissed her then, relishing the familiar tightening in his chest and the pulsing lust in his groin she never failed to evoke in him, even though he’d already kissed her more times than he could count. “Good,” he growled at length, getting to his feet, lifting her to stand with him before pointing to the floor. “Kneel.”
She quivered as she obeyed, letting out a tiny moan as he fastened the collar around her neck. “Thank you,” she whispered. “I love you so much.”
Moving to stand in front of her, Eamon unfastened his pants. “Prove it,” he said, releasing his already throbbing cock, and as she willingly leaned forward and wrapped her lips around it, he smiled.
He had gotten used to this and now, he never wanted to give it up.
The End
Tabitha Black
USA Today bestselling author Tabitha Black has been writing erotic spanking fiction for over a decade, mostly in the ageplay and historical genres. More recently, she's discovered the joys of writing more contemporary, edgier books with a greater emphasis on BDSM – one of which, Sharing Silver, has been nominated for a Golden Flogger award and won the Spanking Romance Reviews award for best ménage 2015.
Having lived in four countries on three different continents, and been an active participant in her local kinky communities, she likes to "write to discover what she knows". Her own personal kinks include anything and everything to do with spanking, fireplay, edge play, scarification, age-play, and too many more to count. Some girls like wood, some adore leather, but Tabitha is partial to big, shiny, ornate knives… nothing else makes her quite as weak at the knees.
She lives in Europe with her Daddy/Sir, and a lilac cat who likes to sneeze in her face.
Tabitha loves getting mail, so if you want to drop her a line, please do so at [email protected]. You can also check out her website here, follow her on Twitter @BlushingTabitha, Instagram, or join her Facebook page. Thank you for reading!
Don't miss these other exciting books by Tabitha Black and Blushing Books!
Taken in Hand
Estelana
Summer Camp
Little Tudor Rose
The Abbeyville Way
Conquering Cassia
Silverlake Priory series
Educating Eva, Book 1
Masters of the Castle series
Fulfilling Her Fantasy
Sharing Silver
Tempting Tasha
When the Gavel Falls (box set)
His Empire series
Restraint - Book 1
Denial - Book 1
Red Petticoat series
Sapphire's Surrender
Anthologies
Confessions of a Spanking Author
Hero To Obey
The Dark Forest
Little Victorian Ladies
When the Gavel Falls (Masters of the Castle)
Witness Protection Program (Masters of the Castle)
Audiobooks
Little Tudor Rose
Conquering Cassia
Connect with Tabitha Black
www.tabithablack.com
[email protected]
Controlling Carlie
BJ Wane
Chapter 1
“You know what I want, little one.” He pointed to the sofa. “And what to do. Present that ass for me.”
As always, that dark, commanding tone sent a delicious shiver of anticipation rippling down her spine. Her hands went to the hem of her short skirt and hiked it up. Keeping her eyes leveled on his bright green, enigmatic gaze, she hooked her thumbs into her panties and slowly lowered them to mid-thigh, no further. He liked it when she left them on. Turning, she bent and braced her hands on the seat of the sofa, her back tense as she waited with bated breath for what he would do. Was he in the mood for her pussy, or ass tonight? She never knew, and he rarely let her know beforehand.
“Sir?” she asked, her voice a quiver of both longing and unease when she heard the telltale sound of his belt being pulled off. She tightened her buttocks, preparing for the lick of pain against her flesh, and the pleasure she never failed to reap from it.
His wide palm cupped one buttock and squeezed. “You’ve been so good today, little one, you deserve a reward. Five swats with my belt. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”
“Oh, yes, please, Sir.” She quit questioning why she enjoyed his dominance so much, how she could find such pleasure from the pain
, and his pleasure in delivering it. It was what it was, and he had always been the one, the only one, she could imagine giving up herself, her very soul to.
“I do love hearing you beg.”
The swoosh of the folded-over, wide black leather always preceded the strike, and she curled her fingers into the sofa to brace for the slash. He didn’t begin with a slow warm-up, like he would if he was intent on giving her a long session. Instead, the first strike delivered a fiery hot streak blazing across the middle of her butt. She sucked in a deep breath and waited… waited… there. The heat made its slow way down to her pussy, warming and dampening her sheath with the throb of arousal.
“Oh, God,” she moaned upon the next blow which landed right below the first. “Please.” How pathetic was it, she was already so needy for him he’d reduced her to begging?
“That’s my girl,” he crooned with the delivery of the third swat. With one finger, he traced over the ache and pushed gently, drawing another moan from her. “Pretty. So pretty, I find myself hard-pressed to wait much longer to fuck you.”
“Then don’t,” she tossed back, unable to hold back an impish, teasing grin.
He huffed out a laugh and snapped the leather just under the curve of her buttocks, on that ‘oh, so sensitive’ skin that damn near sent her face down on the cushion. “That’s what your impatience will get you.”
By the time he finished the fifth and last stroke and dropped the belt, her ass was a mass of pulsating, heated flesh, much like her pussy. A hard thrust of three fingers deep inside her drew her to her toes, a few deep plunges with strategic glides over her clit sent her whirling toward a climax that he stopped short of exploding with his sudden withdrawal.
“Not yet.” With a wet glide up her crack, he pressed against her anus. “Deep breath and push out.”
She didn’t need his instruction but cherished it anyway. It proved he looked out for her, cared enough to make sure she was prepared for whatever he did, and always would be. Breaching the tight rim of her back hole, he entered her with two of his pussy-dampened fingers, forcing her to blow out the deep inhale he’d just told her to take. Then his cock nudged her seam, sliding between her slick folds with the ease of a knife through softened butter.
“Fuck, but I love being inside you.”
Not as much, couldn’t possibly be as much as she loved having him inside her, she thought as he set up the familiar rhythm of shafting her vagina while finger-fucking her ass at the same time. A cry spilled from her lips as his driving plunges sent her down to her elbows, leaving her hips elevated higher, and making it easier for him to deliver those downward thrusts even harder and deeper.
More… more… more… she chanted inside her head while she spiraled out of control and the darkness behind her closed eyes lit up with the sparks of pleasure sweeping her body. How could anything feel so good, how could she crave this, him so much…
“I wish I knew.” Carlie Simms saved and closed the file then swung her gaze from the computer to stare out the window of the small book store she managed. When writing those scenes, she always pictured herself in the place of her character, submitting to the only man she ever fantasized about in that way. Just how long was she going to put her life on hold for a man who refused to see her as anything but a little sister? The bad part was she couldn’t blame him. With her mousy brown hair, boring brown eyes and short, round figure, she wasn’t someone who made men pause for a second look. And Luke Montgomery, well, he’d always drawn women’s eyes like a damn magnet, and she assumed he still did.
She didn’t even know if she was submissive or not, into kink, or how much kink. Her sex life had always been as pathetic as the way she pined over Luke, month after month, year after year. She’d always been better at seeing to her own orgasms than the few men she’d allowed into her bed. But in her dreams, Luke always drove her to the highest peaks by using methods she’d only read about and heard about through the local BDSM club grapevine.
It had been over seven months since he’d returned for a visit to Granger, Ohio, the small hometown they’d both grown up in. His frequent calls, texts and e-mails to check up on her were never enough to appease her craving to see him, talk to him in person, to just be near him.
“God, I’m pitiful.” Rubbing her brow, she heaved a dispirited sigh and glanced around the still empty book store. The Saturday morning regulars would be in soon to check out the week’s new releases, those who still preferred paperbacks, and she always looked forward to chatting with them. She read everything from historical romances to nail-biting suspense to gory horror, and was currently waiting with gut-clenching anxiety to hear whether her last erotic mystery submission would be accepted by one of the biggest publishers in New York. Books were all she’d had to keep her company since Luke moved to Maryland after joining the FBI. Between writing her own fantasy-filled stories and selling others, she’d lived in a vacuum of other people’s lives for far too long, always waiting, hoping for a sign she could be more in his eyes than Evan’s little sister.
Carlie’s heart still ached when she thought of her brother. At the tender age of thirteen, she had thought nothing could be harder than losing her mother, leaving her twenty-year-old brother, Evan, as her guardian. They’d spent those first months dealing with their grief and anger by lashing out at each other, then found it easier to cope by clinging together. His death in a car accident ten years later almost destroyed her. If it hadn’t been for Evan’s best friend, Luke, she wouldn’t have made it through that dark time. She’d never imagined she would later resent the close bond the two had shared since grade school that made Luke promise Evan he would always look out for her and protect her like a sister should anything happen to Evan. Her brother had been gone five years now, and she still missed him as much as she craved to be more in Luke’s eyes than the little sister he never had.
The bell over the door pealed and Carlie looked up, smiling when her best friend, Jana, breezed inside. “Whew! It’s going to be another hot one,” Jana commented, strolling over to the counter and leaning on her arms to gaze down at her. “Please tell me your smoothie machine is working.”
“Yes, I had it fixed a few days ago.” Nudging her glasses back up, Carlie rose, stretched, then turned toward the industrial blender, asking over her shoulder, “What kind?”
“Banana. Have you heard anything yet?”
Jana was the only one who knew about her writing, the only one she let read her work and whom she trusted to keep it quiet. Even though everyone in town knew what went on up at the Castle, few would ever admit to being a guest for fear of self-appointed morality-enforcers showing up on their lawns. Carlie was a private person and didn’t want anyone to know about her writing, at least not until she’d been accepted. If that ever happened, she’d be glad to shout it out herself.
“No, but it’s only been a month.” She peeled a banana and tossed it in with the yogurt and fruit juice. “What’re your plans for today?”
“Well, in about an hour, I’ll be on the bus up to the Castle for the night. When are you going to be ready for some hands-on research? Thanks.” Jana took the cold drink from her and brought the straw to her mouth with a sigh.
“Maybe soon. I don’t know.” That had been Carlie’s standard response for years now. The truth was, she feared reality would never live up to her fantasies, that BDSM wasn’t her thing because the only one she could ever imagine herself doing anything kinky with was Luke. Even though he’d been a Master at the Castle for years, he’d never hinted she held any appeal for him other than as a friend and the girl next door he promised her brother he’d look out for.
“Right,” Jana drawled. “That line has gotten old. Someday I’ll talk you into it, wait and see.” The door opened again, letting in a blast of August heat along with two customers. “I gotta run.” She grabbed a romance off the new release rack and plopped down money for both the book and smoothie. “I’ll come over tomorrow and fill you in. You’ll be so jealous,
you won’t be able to wait until your next day off to go.”
Carlie smiled at her persistent friend. “Seems I’ve heard that line before.” She waved her off, eying the eager bounce to her step with a wave of jealousy. She didn’t need to hear any more about Jana’s experiences at the Castle to stir her interest in something she’d never had the guts to try. Until she could imagine herself exploring the kinks the BDSM club was well known for with someone other than Luke, who showed no interest in her that way, she wouldn’t humiliate or disappoint herself by caving to curiosity.
By the time five o’clock rolled around, she was more than ready to head home. She’d sold more smoothies and cold drinks than books, which wasn’t unusual. If it weren’t for the trade-ins and the online sales of used books, she doubted the store would stay open. The owners, Maggie and John Klein, opened the small book store and café over thirty years ago. They closed the café when they retired and hired her to run the rest, leaving only the drinks, cold in the summer and hot in the winter, for customers to indulge in when they came in.
Carlie walked the few blocks to her residential neighborhood, and as she turned the corner onto her street, her eyes automatically went to the house next to hers, Luke’s home. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment when his sporty black Mazda remained absent and the house showed no signs of anyone being home. Why she continued to look for him, she didn’t know. He always told her when he would be coming back to Granger for a visit, and had mentioned just last week, the last time she’d heard from him, that he had no plans to return anytime soon.
