Masterpiece (The Masters of The Order Book 1)

by Verne, Jillian

  I can’t do it.

  Darion tilted her head back and pressed his lips to hers in the softest of kisses. His silken hair swept over her shoulder like a blanket to cloak her. A strong hand gripped her bound wrists in a steel hold, but feathery kisses dusted over her face to gently coax away the fear. Her breathing slowed.

  Darion reached around her body and cupped her breasts, sampling the contours, grinding his palms against her, squeezing and testing her weight. Then he turned his attention to her nipples, swirling circles around each, pinching and pulling. The touch alternated between exceedingly gentle and painful as firm hands played with her body. The mild hum of arousal ramped up to a bass beat that thudded in time with her pounding heart. By the time he released her, she was ready to crawl out of her skin with need.

  Holding her by the biceps, Darion brought her to a stand. She wobbled as he turned her body to face him.

  “Spread your legs. Chin up,” he commanded.

  She swallowed hard, struggling to stay focused, and complied.

  Darion plumped her breasts with his palms and primed her with slow, dragging strokes of his tongue before drawing each nipple into the hot suction of his mouth. Softly at first, then harder until the sharp pulls forced a moan.

  He eased back with one hand still over her breast and dangled a small chain in front of her. He told her he would clamp her and she really expected to like it. He pinched and placed the clamp over the wet tip.

  Wrong! It hurts like hell.

  His hand gripped her chin to make her look into his eyes as the harsh sting of tiny metal teeth sent sharp streaks of pain in all directions. His eyes were intent on her face as if he was reading her mind again. Before her body could adjust to the single clamp, which was harrowing enough, Darion heightened the pain. He pulled and flicked the metal, all the while absorbing every response in her eyes. When he opened the other clamp and brought it to her breast, she whimpered at what was to come. He didn’t hesitate. The sensation was fiendish and she struggled to breathe through it. A merciless tug on the chain between the clamps shook her from head to foot.

  He turned her body again. When she realized that he intended to lay her face down over a table, she resisted. The pain was already too much to bear, but she was no match for his strength. He pushed her down with a steady hand between the shoulder blades. The press of her chest against the cold tabletop sent a new wave of torture through her enflamed flesh and she struggled against him.

  He held her down. “Take the pain, Julianne. Take it for me.”

  Her nipples were sore, so incredibly sore, but there was no denying the low ache that gripped her between the thighs in an unyielding clutch. Her body began to tremble, torn between the demand for release from the horrendous pain and the mounting pleasure. The lines were blurred and she couldn’t decide which satisfaction she needed more. She strained harder against his hand.

  Darion pressed his hips against her bottom, bringing the front of his legs against the back of her thighs, and arched his body over her, covering every inch with hard muscle. His weight pinning her intensified the pressure of the clamps. The skin of his chest was hot against her back. Thick strands of silky black hair fell over her face like a veil, blocking her sight.

  He went completely still. Just breathing.

  Blind, bound and blanketed by powerful male, her vulnerability was complete. The overwhelming magnitude of Darion’s dominance brought tears to the corners of her eyes. She was powerless. His to do with as he pleased. They wouldn’t continue because she liked something he did or stop if she did not. Whatever he wanted would happen.

  Instead of trying to fight her position, she concentrated on relaxing into it and focused on Darion’s heat, his hefty weight and the steady heartbeat against her back. Breathing in his familiar scent, she let his power penetrate.

  The fear ebbed away.

  As if acknowledging the transformation in her, Darion whispered against her ear, “Perfect submissive.”

  The words unhinged something deep inside and sent her floating, transported to that place where erotic pain inexorably entwined with pleasure. The pulse in her tormented breasts morphed into something utterly delicious and a soft, guttural moan escaped her lips.

  Her entire being hummed with the satisfaction of pleasing her Dom.

  *****

  Nicolai watched the sexy play from across the room.

  Watched his Beauty come undone while Darion tested the limits of her willingness to submit. He fought the urge to intervene when Julianne struggled against Darion’s control even though he understood the process that Darion was carefully guiding her through. He could see Darion studying every response and trusted him not to harm her. He really wasn’t pushing very hard, at least not by their standards, but there was no way around the fact that Darion could be frightening.

  Very frightening.

  When Julianne crossed over, Nicolai almost collapsed. Almost came too. Everything Darion was doing was something he yearned for, but with Julianne, could not bring himself to do. The idea of dominating her in this way debilitated him. Darion obviously knew that to have orchestrated this little show.

  By the time Darion eased off Julianne, the proof of her arousal trickled out of her body. He crouched behind her. After securing each ankle to the table, he ran his fingers through the coating on the insides of her thighs, painting her juices over the skin.

  “Our Beauty is very happy, Nicolai.”

  Her pleasure was so complete that even he, with all his reservations, couldn’t deny it.

  “Yes, she is. Happy and so very beautiful."

  His woman was incredible and he could take her to incredible heights. He bit his lip and let Darion continue.

  *****

  Darion began to fondle her.

  A single finger trailed over each sensitive fold, but avoided the spot that yearned the most for his touch. Julianne gasped when he began to drill that finger in and out of her body with unhurried precision. Each measured glide brought more desperation. So very close, but never offering mercy to the screaming need.

  Why wouldn’t he touch her there? Darion was eye level to her bottom and she couldn’t resist tempting him with a little wiggle. She heard him chuckle, but that penetrating finger never deviated from its cruel path.

  Darion’s hands moved against the inside of her thighs and pushed up hard. His thumbs separated the moist skin and his tongue slid over her sex. Slow, heavy drags were followed by quick, fluttering flicks. It was too much, but not enough. She thought he’d been torturing her before, but what he was doing now was unfathomable. The gnawing ache of arousal became so extreme that she could barely breathe. When her legs started to tremble, he stopped.

  Darion laid himself over her again. He brushed her soaked hair back and didn’t allow his to cover her face. Turning his head away from Nicolai, he rested it between her shoulder blades and whispered, “See each other.”

  She rolled her eyes up to find Nicolai staring at her.

  There it was, plain and clear on his face: the darkness. The passion that he may be able to harness, but that in the end, needed to come out and play dark games. No more regret. He wanted to play those games with her. Pure, unadulterated, uninhibited sexual desire charged between them as they locked eyes across the room.

  Darion’s hand slid over her mons and a lone finger began tapping her clit in a steady rhythm. The focused contact was alarming, the enormity of its impact, shocking. Each repetition built the intensity. The blue of Nicolai’s eyes blurred as she lost focus. The mounting orgasm was enormous.

  “Don’t you dare come without my permission,” Darion warned.

  The command ricocheted around inside her head, filling her with a blend of shock and a determination to obey. But the tone in his voice only pushed her closer to the orgasm that his words sought to deny and the staccato stimulation was electrifying her entire body.

  She fought the demand for release, determined not to come without permission, but h
er pussy contracted harder with each tap. Every muscle tensed as she struggled. Darion removed his finger just ahead of her quickly waning control and she moaned in relief and frustration.

  He sucked the sweat off her nape and licked down her spine. His tongue slid into her cleft as a single wet finger probed her back entrance.

  She went rigid. They hadn’t discussed anal sex.

  “Does that scare you, Julianne?”

  Unsure of the answer, she searched her heart for the truth of her feelings. “No, but my virginity belongs to Nicolai. I want him to be the first.”

  Nicolai reacted to the words as if she’d touched him.

  “Thank you for your honesty,” Darion purred.

  He rested his hands over the curves of her backside and moved lower with his mouth to suckle the fleshy underside of her bottom where it met the inside of her thigh. The wet sensation was soft, almost tickling her, and so foreign. It made her pussy throb even though no part of him touched her there. She rolled her hip and sighed with pleasure.

  Teeth sank into the soft skin with a vicious bite.

  She wailed. The pain was clean and sharp and sent her toppling right over the precipice. With a hard backward jerk of her hips, she came. The violent climax rocked her despite all her effort to control it.

  “Naughty girl.” Darion smacked her bottom with clear amusement as the last jolts of orgasm snapped through her.

  She was still shaking when he released her ankles and moved to a settee.

  “Come to me, Julianne.”

  God, that voice. There was so much power in it. His lips held back a smile, but she saw it dancing around the edges of his wicked mouth.

  She knew what would happen next and wanted to run.

  Run away.

  Run to Darion.

  Her emotions were so confused. The tender spot where he bit her ached. Her pussy ached more. For a moment, she could only stare as her instincts warred inside of her.

  Darion stared back. There was no cloaking what he was feeling now. The menacing grin said it all. Yes, be naughty. I will only enjoy your punishment more. He patted his lap in lurid invitation.

  She stepped forward on shaking legs. In what seemed like a single motion, fast and fluid, Darion trapped her. Robust hands grabbed her waist and forced her into a straddle over his knees. A muscular arm pressed against her back. Long fingers twined into her hair. His mouth took hers.

  Darion’s kiss was so different from Nicolai’s, much harder and more demanding, but it had that same familiar note of possession. She was his right now and that made her hot. Her own taste on his lips made her hotter. Knowing that Nicolai was watching made the whole scene an inferno.

  Darion’s hand roamed down her body as he devoured her mouth and the clamp she’d all but forgotten released. The rush of blood into the freed nipple was agonizing, almost worse than when the little devil first bit into her. She wanted to jerk away, bring her hands over the revitalized pain, but the binds on her wrists and the fist in her hair held her in place.

  Darion angled her body away from his and licked the tortured nipple. Under the wet strokes, the fiery sting became a low throb. He removed the other clamp and that diabolical tongue met the glaring pain once again. When his fingers slid over her slick core, her entire body writhed with an all-encompassing need for release.

  “Come again without permission. I dare you,” he threatened.

  Her desperate cries echoed off the high ceiling of the foyer. Those fingers, that tongue, slipping over her sex, over her breasts, tore at her self-control until all she could do was beg.

  “Please, sir. May I come? Please. I can’t...I can’t stop it.”

  Darion laughed, a smooth, relaxed laugh, and removed his hand. “You beg so sweetly, Julianne. How could I refuse?” His words promised relief, but he left that pit of exquisite need empty, aching and unsatisfied.

  Twisting her shoulders, he pushed her down across his thighs. He arranged her hips closer to his, shifting her body effortlessly over his lap, and positioned her precisely for his hand. She knew he was strong, but in this position, it was so much more apparent. A ruthless pinch over his bite mark reinforced her vulnerability to him. He scraped his fingernails over the globes of her ass, heightening the sensitivity of the skin, before beginning to spank her. Light smacks at first, progressing to harder, more directed blows until each one was delivered with biting force. The hand over her mouth kept her from being propelled off his lap and muffled her mounting sobs.

  The potency of the pain quickly overwhelmed her and she began to really cry. The experience suddenly didn’t feel sexy. She wasn’t enjoying it. It just hurt. Badly. And it was transformative, the dynamic of the exchange with Darion inexplicably altered by the stunning pain. She knew submission could be much worse, excruciatingly so. How would you feel if I whipped you in that foyer? Darion was essentially playing with her body and she couldn’t handle it.

  I asked for the dark, thought I was suited for it, but even this is too much.

  Searching for strength within herself, she found none. Everything she believed about herself slipped farther away with each blow. One more and she would break. Her belief that she could satisfy Nicolai would be inexorably shattered and her world would come crashing down around her. Right on the brink of her complete collapse, Darion stopped.

  Just stopped.

  Her body deflated and a gentle hand began to caress her. She was scared, hurting, and most of all, confused. The hand stroking her curves was spreading a prickling warmth through her body, building the arousal once again.

  How can that be? One minute, I can't bear the pain; the next, it's sublime.

  Leaning very close to her ear, Darion whispered, “I think you’ve learned your lesson on the need for limits, but you are still missing something very important, my lovely. It takes a lot of strength to accept the will of another person even when you enjoy it. But you’re not alone, Julianne. Not anymore. Look at Nicolai.”

  As if compelled to obey, she looked to Nicolai. Everything about him, the stiff posture, the tight press of his lips, the fierce eyes, showed the tenuous grip he had on his emotion. He’d read her weakness just like Darion had and the pain of knowing that brought a fresh wave of tears.

  Darion stroked her back and spoke in a voice, so gentle that she almost couldn’t believe it was his. “You and Nicolai are one. Put your faith in your lover. When you don’t have the strength to go on, you have his.”

  The words broke through the complexity clouding her mind. It's so simple. I do love Nicolai. I do have faith in him. And I'm never alone. Accepting Darion’s guidance, she fell into the ocean of Nicolai’s eyes and let him carry her.

  Nicolai’s expression softened and he blew out a heavy breath.

  When Darion began to slap her again, the seductive power of the harsh experience settled in and her entire being surrendered to the freedom of being mastered. It still hurt, but she accepted Darion’s dominance. She willingly chose to suffer any pain he wanted to give.

  A singular thought entered her mind, over and over, like a mantra. Satisfy you, satisfy myself.

  Each strike of that stalwart hand peeled back another layer of her understanding about the woman who lived inside of her. The woman who not only needed the forceful abandon, but thrilled to it. The woman who was ready and able to give everything to the man staring at her from across the room.

  She reached out to Nicolai with her eyes and poured everything she was feeling into her voice, praying that he would understand the depth of her simple words.

  “Satisfy you, satisfy myself.”

  The recognition in his face offered all that she begged him for.

  He saw her.

  The real her.

  Every truth. Every desire. Every need.

  Her message finally got through.

  *****

  Those beautiful, tortured eyes struck him like a lightning bolt and Nicolai saw his muse as if for the first time.

  Satisfy yo
u, satisfy myself.

  Julianne was exactly what Darion said. A perfect submissive. Two simple words that are infinitely complex. Words Darion believed in, but he never could.

  Until he witnessed this.

  The words of Julianne’s journal rolled through his mind. He thought he understood them, but he didn’t. Seeing his muse play out this dark scene revealed their true meaning. Julianne had endured and been molded into a woman who was obedient to the exclusion of her own will. Even though she was scared, she obviously enjoyed what Darion was doing and if that type of play aroused her, he could certainly satisfy her. But pain was Darion’s trigger, not hers. Surrendering to Darion’s need for her to accept his pain was the only way for her to satisfy her own need. It was the catalyst that allowed her to strip herself of her limitations and fulfill herself by becoming whatever her Master needed her to be. Her submission was pure and honest and complete because she needed the total surrender to the will of another person to fulfill herself.

  While he lamented her suffering, in some twisted way, now he was actually grateful for it. What a fool he’d been. To think that by holding himself back, he could shield Julianne from the past. The past was what it was. And it had become an integral part of the strong, passionate woman with the profound courage to enter this room and declare herself to her reluctant lover in a scene with a man as formidable as Darion LeClair.

  And what a hypocrite to say that he wanted her free expression. He’d spent months trying to teach his repressed apprentice to break free of her chains. But all his behavior had accomplished was to chain her sexuality, the most fundamental form of expression. Instead of fighting her past, he should have accepted it and simply allowed all the beauty inside his woman, whatever its source, to flow free.

  Nicolai finally understood why every experience with Julianne felt new. He was born to create. Every breath he took fueled that need. He never believed a woman could give herself to him so sincerely that she could be molded into the living expression of his imagination. Julianne could. That fundamental truth made her his living, breathing ideal.