Take Me, Sir: Billionaire's Sub Book 3

by M. S. Parker

  “Pardon me, mum.”

  She blinked. “Did you just call me 'mom?'”

  I grinned, unable to stop myself. “Sorry, love. No offense meant. I said mum. Similar to your American ma'am or miss.”

  Her eyes widened, then narrowed. “You're British.”

  I purposefully thickened my accent. “What gave it away, lass?”

  She chuckled, and damn if that wasn't the sexiest thing I'd ever heard. I wanted to hear it again. Plus, that dimple appearing next to her kissable mouth...

  “Pink teddy bears?”

  Shit. She'd caught me off-guard, and I had no idea what she was talking about. “Pardon?”

  She gestured toward my arm, and then I remembered that I was carrying a box wrapped in cream-colored paper with pink teddy bears decorating it.

  “Gift for a friend.”

  Her eyes lit up. “Oh, Cross and Hanna.”

  “You know them?” How in the world was that possible? I hadn't been away that long. If they'd known her, why hadn't I met her before? Where had this exquisite creature been hiding?

  She nodded. “Hanna went into labor in the middle of her sister's wedding. I offered to lock up so the family could go to the hospital.” She held out a hand. “I can put that inside for you.”

  I was reluctant to let her have the gift, but not because I didn't trust her with it. I didn't want to have to walk away. As she took it, I found myself blurting out a question, “Would you like to have a drink with me?”

  She looked startled but didn't balk. Instead, she gave me a once over, her expression making me wonder if she was picturing me naked. Not that I minded. I'd like a drink, but naked was the ultimate goal.

  “I'll be back.” She turned and walked away, giving me a prime opportunity to check her out from behind.

  Damn, that was a nice view.

  Some guys may have liked girls who were thin, but I'd always been partial to curves, and this woman had them in spades. The dress she was wearing said she'd been a guest at the wedding rather than working. I couldn't tell what sort of fabric it was made of, but it clung to her body in a way that made me want to peel it right off. A deep blue that made her skin practically glow, the neckline was high enough to be decent, but low enough to tempt my restraint. The hemline affected me similarly. Without her heels, she was probably a good foot shorter than me, and the thought of picking her up and having her wrap those legs around me...fuck. I was uncomfortably hard by the time she came back outside.

  “I'm Kyndall, by the way,” she said as I led her across the driveway to where my car waited.

  “Dean.” I opened the passenger side door and didn't bother trying to hide my appreciative look at her legs as her dress rode up her thighs.

  She didn't say anything as I turned toward my hotel. There were plenty of bars and clubs I could've taken her to, but if things went as well as I hoped, it'd be a lot easier to ask her to come upstairs rather than going from a club to a hotel. Besides, the club I usually went to wasn't exactly the sort a man took a woman to unless he knew she was into the same things.

  I fully intended for us to drink and chat a bit first, even if not about certain sexual preferences. I wasn't looking for some random quickie. I was the sort of man who liked to seduce women before sex, even if it'd only ever be a one night stand. While I'd never met a woman who I could see having a relationship with, I never treated the ones I was with poorly. After all, I'd been raised to be a gentleman.

  The thought almost made me laugh. I was a gentleman. I could be as romantic as the next man, probably more so if I put my mind to it, and I enjoyed giving pleasure to the women I took to bed. I didn't mind sex that was mostly vanilla, and I always made sure that my partners came.

  But what very few people saw was that I had another part of me that wasn't very gentlemanly at all. A part that liked to use restraints and hear a woman beg for release. A part that got hard at the sight of a red handprint on a woman's ass, or hearing the crack of a crop against soft flesh. I liked handcuffs and blindfolds and toys and clamps and all of the things that had recently become a little less taboo to fantasize about. Except I didn't fantasize. I could get off without the domination, but I'd be lying if I said that wasn't a huge part of how I was wired.

  I glanced over at Kyndall and wondered if I was going to have to set down some ground rules about how this was only going to be one night. However, when I pulled up in front of the Beverly Hills Hotel, something that looked a lot like relief crossed her face. My gut told me we were looking for the same things from tonight. Good alcohol, and then no-strings-attached sex at a fancy hotel. After that, we'd go our separate ways. If our paths happened to cross again due to mutual friends, then so be it, but it wouldn't be anything either of us would go looking for.

  As we walked into the bar, I broke the silence to ask what she wanted, then ordered her Espresso Martini and my glass of Highland Park. I may have been born in London to American parents, but they claimed I drank like a Scot.

  We made small talk while we drank, keeping things casual. Nothing about families or our pasts, nothing about a future we wouldn't share. All of it was music and entertainment and hobbies. The sort of things that made us both a bit more relaxed, but didn't get personal enough to leave either of us with the wrong impression of what would happen if we moved things to my room.

  When. Not if. Because she wanted me as much as I wanted her. I could see it in the way she leaned toward me, how her eyes would drop to my mouth for just a moment. How she didn't mind when I indulged in a long look at her lovely body. When I asked her, I was certain she'd say yes.

  She finished the last of her drink and set down the glass, giving me an expectant look that warmed me straight through. She wasn't the sort of brassy, bold woman who often hit on me, but she was no shy, demure innocent either. She clearly knew who she was and what she wanted. The sort of woman who the Dom in me wanted to make submit.

  This wasn't the time or the place for it though. If I wanted a Sub, I'd head into the club and find someone who already knew about the lifestyle. I doubted, however, that no matter what elements I might have inclinations toward, sex with her would be far from boring, so I felt no need to stop things between us.

  I drained the last of my second glass and then reached across to take her hand. It was the first time we'd touched aside from our first run-in, and the shock that ran up my arm made me catch my breath. Why hadn't I been touching her this whole time?

  “Come up to my room.” My voice was rough, and the strength of the desire I felt surprised me.

  One corner of her mouth curved up. “I thought you'd never ask.”

  She laced her fingers between mine as I pulled her to her feet. We walked together to the elevator, the air between us thickening with every step. The moment the elevator doors shut, I released her hand and caught her around the waist. I'd been patient long enough.

  “You're absolutely gorgeous, love, you know that?” I put her back against the wall, leaning toward her until our bodies were only an inch apart. “Enough to drive a sane man mad.”

  “You're a fine lad yourself.”

  Her attempt at an accent made me laugh. “That's horrible.”

  She reached up and ran her fingers through my hair, then grazed them down my cheek. The moment her fingertip touched the corner of my mouth, my self-control snapped, and I closed the short distance between us, finally taking her mouth.

  I plunged my tongue between her lips, the flavor of her drink exploding across my taste buds, mingling with something I knew was just her. She tilted her head, arms going around my neck. Her body pressed against me, all those lush curves mine for the taking. I ran my hands down her back to cup her delightful ass.

  The doors dinged, and I reluctantly pulled away, pleased to see a slightly dazed expression on her face. I wrapped my arm around her waist, keeping her tight to my side as we walked out. I didn't know what perfume she was wearing, but I liked it.

  “The penthouse?”

>   I gave her a smile as I opened the door. “Impressed?”

  “A little.” She slipped out of my grasp and grinned before she turned her back on me. She reached behind her, sliding down the zipper of her dress to reveal a dark blue thong that just made her ass even more exquisite.

  “Bugger me,” I muttered.

  “How very British of you.” She was halfway to the bedroom when she turned again and let me see how her matching bra hugged her breasts.

  “Would you have preferred if I'd said 'fuck me?'” I made the last two words come out in a typical, flat mid-western American accent as I walked toward her with even, deliberate steps. “My parents were American, so I can use either one.”

  She reached behind her back again, and a moment later, her bra dropped to the floor. Not for the first time, I saw that strange combination of boldness and refreshing innocence. There was none of the arrogance that I'd seen in other beautiful women, none of the guile, but there was no embarrassment or timidity either. She was someone who was comfortable with her body and seemed to know what she wanted.

  And right now, I was fortunate enough for that to be me.

  “Right,” I practically growled. “Enough talking.”

  She gasped when I picked her up but didn't hesitate to wrap her arms and legs around me. I groaned as she rubbed against me, my erection pressing up against my zipper. A few more steps and then I was dropping her onto the bed. All that lovely hair spread out beneath her, her full breasts bouncing as she fell. And the only thing covering her was a damn thin scrap of dark silk.

  I wanted to rip it away, free my cock, and drive into her until we both saw stars. But I wanted to taste her too. See if her pussy tasted as good as her mouth.

  I dropped to my knees next to the bed and reached for her hips. I yanked her to the edge of the bed, then pulled off her panties, leaving her wonderfully naked. The hair between her legs was light and soft-looking. Her skin the perfect shade of pink.

  “Such a pretty pussy.” I pulled her legs over my shoulders. “Shall I see how many times I can make you come in my mouth?”

  “Do you have any idea how fucking sexy that sounds with your accent?”

  I chuckled. I'd had women comment on my accent before, but none of them said it quite like that. I didn't answer though. I was too busy leaning forward to run my tongue over her folds. She made a sound that I liked, so I did it again. Another great sound. Her skin was salty, but not unpleasant. I used my fingers to part her lips, and this time when I licked her, she let out what I could only call a wail.

  Fuck me. I really liked that.

  My new goal became seeing how many different sounds I could get her to make, and I immediately set about working toward it. I gripped her hips tight as I started to play with her clit, my tongue flicking across it before I started to suck, long even pulls that had her writhing. Her hands dug into my hair, nails scraping my scalp. Then she shouted my name – fuck that was hot – her back arching as she came.

  There was one.

  She wasn't faking, that was for sure. I could see and feel the orgasm going through her entire body. She was just that responsive, and it made me want to see how far I could push her.

  So I did.

  One climax rolled into another, and my name turned into a curse. And a few nonsense words that just made me try even harder. I wanted her completely senseless. Well, not too senseless to consent, because I wasn't sure how much longer I could hold back, but the nice sort of senseless.

  “One more time, love,” I murmured against her soft skin.

  “Can't.” The word was a whimper that made me close my eyes.

  I used the same voice I used on my Subs, hardly aware of making a conscious decision to do it. “Yes, you can, love. Come on, Kyndall, let go. Come for me, and then I'll give you what you really want.”

  I pushed two fingers inside her hot pussy, swearing as she gripped me tight. I curved them, pressing them against her g-spot as I wrung one more orgasm out of her. She didn't make a sound, but every muscle in her body tensed...then suddenly went limp, the only movement the harsh rise and fall of her chest.

  My knees popped as I stood. I'd been down there longer than I planned, but seeing the blissed out expression on Kyndall's face was worth it. I licked my fingers clean as I allowed myself the luxury of visually devouring every glistening inch of her.

  Then I started undressing, more than ready to feel her skin against mine. As I pulled a condom from the bedside table, I had a brief moment of wishing that I could take her bare. I'd never wanted that with anyone.

  Sex, for me, was about control. Pleasure. Not intimacy. Never that. Not because it scared me, but because there was no one I wanted to know that well.

  I pushed my thoughts aside and focused on the woman on the bed in front of me. I rolled on the condom, then moved to get Kyndall settled in a more comfortable position. She opened her eyes and smiled at me but didn't try to move on her own. The Dom in me preened, but I forced it down. That wasn't a part of tonight.

  She propped herself up on her elbows, eyes dropping to my cock. She licked her lips. “Is that for me?”

  I ran my hands up her legs as I positioned myself between them. “Every single inch.” She gasped as I started to slide in, and I swore, “Fuck, love, you're tight.”

  “Not bugger?” She chuckled, and I swore again at the vibration around my cock.

  “You do that again, and we're going to be done before I get started.”

  She reached up and pushed my hair back from my face, a gesture that almost seemed too intimate for what we were doing. I eased forward, both of us moaning as we came together. She shouldn't have fit me so well, so perfectly, but she did. One leg hooked over my hip as I rocked into her, letting us both have a few moments to get used to the new sensation. She was slick and wet, and I could almost feel her body throbbing with need. I'd brought her over the edge so many times that I knew she'd be on a hair trigger, ready to go with very little friction.

  Which was good, because I wasn't going to last as long as I normally could.

  I covered her mouth with mine, needing her kiss as I moved inside her. Her nails dug into my back, hips rising to meet mine, every sensation pushing me toward release. When her teeth sunk into my bottom lip, the sharp edge of pain to my pleasure sent me over the edge.

  Still, I pushed myself against her, determined to get her off one more time. Only after I felt her shudder beneath me did I let myself go completely, and for several blissful seconds, everything was perfect.

  As we came down, I rolled off her and gave myself time to recover from one of the hardest orgasms I'd had in a long time. I found that I didn't mind having her there next to me, but I knew I'd have to do the awkward after-sex talk before she got too comfortable.

  Before I could, however, she was moving up and off the bed. I watched with surprise as she picked up her panties.

  “Just let me run to the bathroom, and then I'll show myself out.” She smiled at me. “Thanks for that, Dean.”

  Okay, definitely not how I saw that going.

  Chapter Three

  Kyndall

  I always thought of myself as a strong person, brave even. I graduated from high school at sixteen and then moved to the other side of the country all by myself. I'd not only survived on my own, but thrived. Coming back here, though, seemed to sap all of that strength.

  Case in point, I was currently playing with my nephew in Dalton and Juliette’s amazing apartment, but I'd told my parents that this past week in LA had been spent house-sitting for my brother and helping my sister-in-law's parents with Anthony. While that was technically accurate, I'd kept the full truth to myself.

  I was staying in LA, at least for a little while. My parents had kept protests to a minimum when I'd stayed in Cambridge through summers, but I'd known that was because I was in college. Even the apartment I rented there had been in an area where other students lived. They'd never let me hear the end of it if I said I wanted to live the
re for good, so far away from family. And I didn't really want to be that far away from them all the time. Just far enough that I could have my own life without them interfering.

  Los Angeles was perfect for that. I was close enough that I'd still be involved in family things without too much trouble, but I'd be able to go about my day-to-day business without running into my parents. And with Dalton here, it'd be easy enough to imply that he'd keep an eye on me. And, with Dalton, at least I'd have an ally in Juliette.

  A string of babbling sounds and half-formed words drew my attention back to the dark-haired little boy in front of me. He was almost a year old, and it still amazed me how a child so young could have so much personality. I was thirteen when my niece Mara had been born, but I hadn't spent much time with her, some because I'd been focusing on school, but some because my parents and my sister had always made excuses about why someone else was the better choice for a babysitter. By the time the other kids had come along, I was already in college, so this past week with Anthony had been something new.

  I was actually better with the kid than I expected to be. I wasn't sure if that was because I'd just been nervous about my lack of experience, or because a part of me took my parents' lack of faith in me to heart. Either way, I'd been pleasantly surprised by how much I'd enjoyed babysitting Anthony. Not that I'd done it a lot. Juliette's parents had kept Anthony most of the week, but their flight had left at ten this morning, and Dalton and Kyndall's plane was running a couple hours late, so they'd taken me up on my offer.

  “You're going to be a real lady-killer.” I ran my hand over Anthony's silky hair. He looked so much like Dalton's baby pictures, except with dark hair instead of light. “All right, so there are some things you need to know to survive our family. First, I know most people might tell a kid to take it easy on their parents, but not me. Your father's awesome, but I want you to give him hell.”