Controlling Her Pleasure

by Lili Valente

  “You can, Erin, and you will. I’m going to modify your ink this weekend.” He forced the words out through his tight jaw, refusing to listen to the voice of reason. “If you decide what you want by Sunday afternoon, I’ll do my best to accommodate your request. If not…I’ll decide for you.”

  “You’re fucking kidding me.” But the way she flung her lipstick back into her purse with enough force to make it bounce back out again made it clear she knew he wasn’t kidding.

  He lifted one shoulder. “This is something I feel strongly about.”

  “Yeah? Well, I feel strongly about getting the hell away from—”

  His hand whipped out, closing tight around her upper arm, not hard enough to bruise, but firm enough to let her know he meant business. “Don’t touch that door handle. You’ll kill yourself if you jump out of a car going eighty. Do you understand me?”

  “Yes.” She shivered lightly in his grasp and Blake felt the tension suddenly leave her body. She slumped slightly in her seat, her lips parting and her eyes sliding closed.

  Goddamn, but she looked almost…aroused.

  Like she’d gotten off on the controlling way he touched her. Like she enjoyed…

  But he had to be misreading things. Erin was one of the toughest girls he’d ever known, pure steel beneath the sass. She was a fighter, a scrapper, not a submissive, and there had been nothing in their early relationship to hint she wanted to be dominated.

  But then, she’d said her ex-husband was “controlling,” and he couldn’t ignore the way her body language had changed when he’d pulled out the Big Bad Dom voice, the one the girls around the Vegas parlor jokingly called his “Yes, Daddy” voice. It was the one he used in the Vegas bondage clubs when he needed to indulge that side of himself, the part of him that needed to command another’s pleasure to fully experience his own.

  Could Erin…

  Just maybe…

  There was one way to find out.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Blake

  “Put your purse on the floor,” Blake continued in the same firm voice. After only a beat of hesitation, Erin obeyed, making his cock twitch with excitement inside his pants.

  Down, boy. She might just be scared. It might have nothing to do with sex.

  It was true. She might just be intimidated. Sometimes he forgot his mere size alone was enough to frighten people, even without the scary voice. He’d never been the kind of person to use his bulk as a tool to get what he wanted. Still, it was something he had to consider.

  He loosened his grip on her arm and softened his tone. “I have some questions. Will you answer me honestly?”

  “Yes,” she whispered, her voice thick with what sounded more like desire than fear.

  “Are you turned on right now?” he asked.

  She shivered again and her breath caught, but she didn’t speak.

  “Answer me, Erin,” he said, his cock swelling inside his jeans. “Are you turned on? Tell me the truth.”

  One beat, two, and then the word he didn’t realize he’d been afraid to hear until she said it. “Yes.”

  Oh. Fuck. This wasn’t good. He’d been right about what Erin wanted, but it would be so wrong to act on what he’d learned. Any Dominant and sub interaction should be based on respect and trust. He would never enter into even a casual scene with a sub with any agenda other than shared mutual pleasure. To use this to control Erin, to persuade her to let him alter her tat, would be wrong.

  But then…he didn’t have to abuse the knowledge. Once they arrived at the cabin, he could go back to treating her like an old friend and keep all persuasive efforts aboveboard. Or at least above the waist. Right now, however, he had thirty more miles before he’d be out of urban areas and onto the dark mountain road leading to his cabin. He couldn’t afford to have Erin jump to her freedom or risk the chance that someone might notice a girl tied up with rope in his backseat as he drove through downtown San Bernardino. And he could think of the perfect way to occupy her busy little hands, to keep those fingers so focused she wouldn’t even think about going for the door handle.

  “Are you wet?” he asked before he had the opportunity to talk himself out of his decision.

  “Yes.” Erin moaned softly and Blake saw her hands clench into fists on her lap.

  Oh, yeah.

  She was more than ready for what he had in mind. It was clear in every tense line of her body.

  “In a few seconds I’m going to tell you to touch yourself,” he said. “When I do, I want you to slide your fingers in and out of your pussy. Play with yourself until you’re hot and wet. Will you do that for me?”

  “Yes.” She spread her legs wider and Blake had to fight the urge to turn off at the next exit and find the nearest motel.

  His cock was already ridiculously hard, his balls aching like he’d been sucker punched between the legs. He was going to walk like he’d been riding bareback by the time they made it to the cabin. But then, that was only fair. He deserved to suffer, especially considering what he had in mind for Erin.

  “I want you to touch yourself everywhere and anywhere it feels good.” He paused for a moment, his own desire spiraling higher when Erin stayed perfectly still, waiting for his command. She was obviously no newbie and understood the kind of pleasure that came with bending her will to another’s. “But don’t touch your clit. That part of you is mine for the next hour. If you come without touching it, that’s fine. But if you disobey me, if you run even a pinkie finger over it, I’ll know. And you’ll be punished. Do you understand?”

  “I didn’t agree to punishments and we don’t have a safe word,” she said, her voice breathy with excitement.

  “No, you didn’t, and no, we don’t. If that bothers you, we can stop right now.” He sounded surprisingly calm considering how desperately a part of him wanted Erin to obey him, to let him guide her to her pleasure. He could already picture her with her head thrown back, her eyes closed as she drew closer and closer to coming on her own hand, could practically hear the sound of her eager fingers delving in and out of her slick cunt. “Is that what you want?”

  A brief pause and then she sighed, relaxing back into her seat. “No…sir.”

  The addition of the typical sub term of respect sent another jolt of need surging down to his already aching cock. “Good. Now put your hand down the front of your panties. I want to be able to smell how wet you are by the time we hit the San Bernardino exit.”

  Erin spread her knees and lifted her skirt, giving him a clear view as she slowly slid her hand beneath the white fabric and over her mound. She moaned as she pressed her fingers deep inside her channel, the sound so thick with need he had no doubt it had been a while since Erin had indulged this side of herself.

  Was that because of her ex? Had he been one of those sadistic types who got off on making his sub’s life a living hell?

  Blake had met his share of Doms like that, cowards who needed to walk all over another person to make themselves feel like men. They were the kind of assholes who gave genuine Dominants a bad name. Blake had never entered into a full-time commitment with a submissive, but if he ever did, his girl would be treated with nothing but kindness.

  True, sometimes “kindness” could take on unconventional forms in the BDSM world, where even punishments and pain could be considered kind if they were what the sub needed to get off, to feel safe and cared for. Blake had played with a number of women who needed to be spanked, told they were dirty whores, or bound and gagged and fucked with what most people would say was a lack of gentleness in order to experience their greatest pleasure.

  But he’d never hurt a woman. He’d never left his lovers with emotional or physical scars.

  Not like the kind Erin had acquired, if the tears streaming silently down her face were any indication. Even as she played with her pussy, clearly aroused by what she was doing, she wept. He could practically feel the pain inside of her fighting her pleasure, and it was enough to make his heart wrench unc
omfortably in his chest. She’d been through something, something bad, and she was still suffering from the side effects.

  Could he add to that pain? Even if she had betrayed his trust? Was he that mentally screwed up by the almost mystical connection he felt to the only person with whom he shared identical ink?

  Unfortunately, the answer to all three questions was yes.

  “You’re safe, Erin. Nothing’s going to happen that you don’t want to happen. At least not until Sunday afternoon,” he said, ignoring the flash of conscience the last words inspired. “Relax. Concentrate on your pleasure, on getting my pussy as wet as you can make it.”

  Damn, he’d staked a claim without meaning to. But then, it was hard not to think of her pussy as his, especially when he knew exactly how he was going to reward her obedience, with his face between her legs, eating that pussy until she came so hard she couldn’t remember her own name.

  It had always felt like Erin was his, a part of him ingrained so deeply he worried that not even eliminating their matching tattoos would force her out. Or that, even more disturbingly, he even wanted her out.

  Get it together, Blake. This weekend is about taking back your life, not getting even more obsessed with a woman who couldn’t care less about you.

  It was true. A part of him wanted to believe Erin had loved him back when they were kids, but if she had cared that much she wouldn’t have acted the way she did. She wouldn’t have promised him forever and then run as fast and as far as she was able the very next day. He had to follow through with what he had planned, no matter how tempting it would be to play power-exchange games with Erin all weekend and forget why they were shacked up in a cabin in the middle of nowhere.

  He’d picked the location because he didn’t want anyone to see or hear if she wasn’t cooperative, but it would also be the perfect place to stage a private scene. No one would be able to hear her scream when she came, again and again, on his face, his hands, his cock, his—

  “God, Blake. I’m so wet,” she said, squirming restlessly on the seat beside him. “Are you going to fuck me?”

  “Do you want me to fuck you?”

  “Yes…please.” She moaned again, and her hand moved faster between her legs, driving in and out of her slick heat, but not touching her clit. She was being obedient, doing her best to earn his approval. “I want you to fuck me. Hard.”

  Shit.

  Hard. That was exactly what it was going to be to resist losing himself in Erin. As hard as the erection pressing so fiercely against his fly that Blake swore he could feel the metal teeth of his zipper through his boxer briefs.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Erin

  Erin felt like she was going to die. Right here, right now. Spontaneously combust from the force of her sexual frustration. On her headstone they would write, “If only she could have gotten off before it was too late.”

  “Please…please, Blake.” Erin moaned, moving her hand faster, driving fingers into the aching, bruised place her pussy had become. She’d never been so hot or so wet, never been poised on the verge of a shattering orgasm for so long without being able to come.

  It was torture. Pure, horrible, wonderful torture.

  “Just a few more minutes. There’s a place to turn off the road and park in about half a mile.” Blake’s voice was maddeningly calm as he steered through the almost complete blackness of the mountain road.

  She wanted to slap him. And then fuck him.

  She wanted to rip open his pants and straddle him, riding his cock while she sank her teeth into the thick muscles of his shoulders. She wanted to feel his strong hands digging into the flesh of her hips, highlighting her pleasure with a little pain. And then she wanted him to punish her for biting him without permission, have him turn her over his knee and redden her ass until—

  “God. Please! Now!” She couldn’t take much more, and her lurid thoughts certainly weren’t helping any. Her breath was coming in swift, shallow pants, and her entire body felt like one screaming exposed nerve.

  She needed to come. Now. Not in a few more minutes.

  “Lower your voice, sweetness.” And then he slowed down, until it felt like they were crawling up the side of the mountain in a freaking horse-drawn wagon. There was no one else on the road at nearly two in the morning. He could drive ten miles an hour if he wanted, make sure they didn’t reach that turnoff until morning if she weren’t obedient.

  God. Damn. Him.

  Erin pressed her lips together, the part of her that wanted to tell him to go fuck himself warring with the part of her that was willing to do anything it took to win Blake’s approval. From the second he’d used that deep, silky Dom voice on her, she’d been a goner. No matter how freaked out she’d been that the sweet boy she’d once known had turned into the kind of man who would tattoo another person against her will, that shock had faded to the back of her awareness once she’d realized what else he’d become.

  Dominant.

  Wonderfully, perfectly Dominant.

  In the past forty minutes, he’d controlled her more completely, more skillfully than Scott had managed in three long years. It was more than the tone of his voice, or the way he kept his cool no matter how she’d tried to tempt him into putting an end to her torture with a quickie in the back of the Expedition—and she had tried every dirty trick she could think of that didn’t expressly violate Blake’s order not to touch her clit.

  It was something else, something she couldn’t quite put her finger on, that made her want to please Blake, to be a good sub in a way she never had been before. He emitted an aura of Dominance, one that reached out and surrounded her in bliss when she was pleasing him and froze her blood in her veins when she was not. The odd sensation made her feel connected to him. It was like they’d already made love, even though he hadn’t so much as breathed on her skin.

  Making love…

  Whoa. No way. She was not going to go there.

  She would submit to Blake, she would fuck Blake, but there would be no lovemaking. She didn’t need the complication of that particular emotion. Even if she did, Blake would never want to make love to her, the way they used to all those years ago. She’d broken his heart and her promises, two things she’d known even the eighteen-year-old Blake would never forgive, let alone the hardened man he’d become.

  The realization was enough to cool her lust a few degrees until he spoke again.

  “Take off your shirt,” he said. “I want to see you play with your nipples.”

  Oh. God.

  He knew how sensitive her breasts were, how she’d been ready to head for a home run the first time she’d let him get to second base in the back of his Impala. Just a few minutes of playing with her nipples and she’d been wet and ready, practically dying to feel Blake inside her, no matter how lousy her first few experiences with boys had been.

  “Now, Erin. Make them hard for me.” He reached out with one hand and gently undid the top button on her shirt. “I want your nipples tight when I take them in my mouth.”

  She couldn’t get the damn shirt off fast enough.

  Her bra followed a second later, and then her hands were on her already aching tips, squeezing, caressing, rolling her nipples between her fingers and thumbs until they stung. The slippery wet heat from the fingers she’d had in her pussy smeared across the pebbled flesh, adding to her pleasure until she was squirming in her chair.

  “Blake. Please, Blake,” she whispered, squeezing her thighs together, seeking relief from the erotic torture he was forcing her to inflict upon herself.

  His eyes flicked from her breasts to the road and his breath finally began to speed. He wanted her. So, God, why wouldn’t he take her? If she had to wait a second longer to feel his cock in her, she was going to scream.

  Or take matters into her own hands. Every sub had a breaking point and she was reaching hers.

  “Don’t do it, Erin,” he warned as if he’d read her thoughts. “We’re almost there. Keep your hands on y
our tits.”

  “I hate the word ‘tits,’ ” she snapped, her tone a cross between a whine and a growl. How had he known? She hadn’t made any sign she was planning to move her hands.

  He chuckled, a deep rumble she felt vibrating her already humming nerves. “Really? You’re not a tit girl?”

  “Fuck you. You know I am. I just don’t like the word.” For a split second, she wondered if Blake would revoke her ability to speak for her rebellious tone, but the bastard only laughed again.

  “That’s a shame. I like the word ‘tits.’ ” She could imagine the shit-eating grin he had on his face though she couldn’t see more than his profile in the dim moonlight. “I’d especially like it if I were fucking your mouth, pumping between those pretty lips. I’d like to tell you I was about to pull out and come on your tits.”

  Oh. My.

  Erin’s entire body shuddered.

  “Then I would, hot and thick all over your soft skin,” he said, ratcheting up her desire another impossible notch. “I’d rub my cock all over your chest, spread my cum on your nipples, play with you until I was hard again and then push your pretty breasts together and fuck your tits. Would you like that, Erin? To have me fuck your tits while you played with yourself?”

  She almost came right then. The man was a dirty-talking master. Before she could remember the words she needed to tell him just how hot the idea of him fucking her tits made her, he spoke again.

  “Take off your panties, but leave your shoes on,” Blake said as they rounded a curve in the road and a lookout point came into view. “We’re here.”

  Erin had never been so thrilled to see a parking area in her life. Or so scared.

  What was wrong with her? This is what she’d been dying for since the second Blake told her to put her hand down the front of her panties. Why was she suddenly scared of what was going to go down between them? She wanted this, needed him more than she’d ever needed almost anything.

  There’s your problem. And that’s after less than two hours with the man. What state are you going to be in after two days?