Her senses sharpened in a new and amazing way. The clamps on her tits, the bullet on her pussy, and the strikes of the flogger all created a carnival of sensation that she reveled in. The ball of hurt and anger wasn’t weighing her down, stifling her. It wasn’t gone, but it didn’t frighten her anymore. She’d faced it, released it into reality, and she was still here.
Thoughts scattered and her body humming, she arched as another orgasm swept through her. She cried out and begged as she never thought she’d beg. “Please, Sir. You. I need you. I want you. I—”love you. No. She couldn’t say those words. She was too broken, damaged.
As quickly as she’d gone up the heights of pleasure, she dropped at those ugly thoughts. What would Finch think of her now? She was a crazy person, screaming out curses and rage.
When he stepped in front of her, she couldn’t look at him, couldn’t let herself want him so much. But it was no surprise that her Master provided no escape from the truth. “You what, Victoria?”
“Sir—”
He tugged on the chain connected to the nipple clamps, and she gasped. Fuck, it felt good. The pain ripped through her as the bullet buzzed against her clit.
“You will tell me.”
“No,” she said. “Please don’t make me. Finch—” He yanked on the chain, and she snarled at him. “Knock it off, asshole.”
“What is my name, Victoria?” he said sternly.
“Fucking asshole,” she snapped.
He move to one side, and his hand was a blur as he swung and connected with her ass.
Oh fuck. Oh fuck. So good. So perfect. Do it again, Sir. Please.
“What is my name?” he asked again.
“Atticus.” Oh, she knew that wasn’t the right answer. The three swats against her flesh confirmed it.
He stepped closer, and his right hand slid over her skin to slip along the seam of her ass. When his fingers probed her tight hole, she squirmed to get away. Yet something inside her also loved the sensation of pain and pleasure his exploration brought. “Maybe you’ll remember what my name is if I shove my cock inside your ass.”
Her heart rate was off the charts, and she began to pant. Yes. She wanted him to fuck her, and she didn’t care how he did it. But there was the bigger part of her that wanted his cock inside her pussy, face-to-face. Maybe that was too vanilla for him.
The crack of his hand against her thigh got her attention. “Just as I thought. You think too much.”
“Master,” she whispered. She knew his name. Master A. That’s what they’d called him at the BDSM club. Gina had told her. He was an adept Master, and she was a novice, a fool.
He cupped her face with both his hands, his body pressed against hers. She wanted him naked. His voice was like warm water on her skin. “Say it again, Victoria. I find I like the sound of it on your sweet lips.”
She licked her lips that didn’t feel sweet but seemed dry as dirt. “Master.”
The sound unleashed something in him, and he tore his clothes off. Her mouth watered as she watched him. Naked, he was incredible. She noted he put on a condom, and she whimpered in need. He was finally going to fuck her.
He lifted her legs and cut the ties that held her ankles together. He made her straddle him, and he slowly penetrated her, inch by inch, his gaze never leaving her face. She moaned at the sensation, the incredible feeling of his possession. His hands were like a heated brand on her ass as he thrust deeper. She arched her back and cried out for more.
His cock filled her, and she went insane beneath his demands. More, more, more! Faster and faster, he rammed her. His growled words were incomprehensible to her. She was lost in sensation, drowning in her need.
This time, her release caught her by surprise. She hadn’t thought she could, hadn’t believed any woman could come that many times. But she did. Her choked cry was followed by his roar of satisfaction. He continued to thrust inside her, making her twitch and jerk.
“And who do you belong to?” he demanded.
Belonging. That was the moment she’d known. When he’d said she belonged to him. That had been what was always missing with everyone. She didn’t belong to her mother, even though she’d been physically related. She didn’t belong to her aunt, who wanted no one. She didn’t belong to her friends, who loved her but never delved beneath the facade she’d presented.
This man was the first person to accept it all, and he took her as his. His.
Emotions that she’d kept so deeply buried that she hadn’t even known they existed rose to the surface. A well of sadness and loss that had begun as a child when she realized she was alone in a crowd of people because she felt different and ended with the death of her mother. It boiled over and swamped her.
The tears that came didn’t flow from her like gentle streams but burst out of her like water released from a dam. She couldn’t breathe or think or stop any of it. Her chest hurt, her throat ached, her nose ran, but the tears kept coming.
Her wrists were freed, and she didn’t care. Warm arms surrounded her, and she thrashed to get away, wanting to curl up in a ball alone.
“Stop that crying. You’re a spoiled rotten brat. You’ve got nothing to cry about.” Her aunt’s voice. Her mother had ignored her tears, and Aunt Angela had demanded she stop.
But she couldn’t stop. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I want to stop, but I can’t. I’m sorry,” she wailed, and the tears flowed faster.
But the man who held her didn’t shush her or tell her to be calm. He didn’t make any demands at all. He held her close and stroked her head. His words finally began to make sense to her. “I’m here, Victoria. I’m here.”
“Master,” she said, sobbing. “I’m a mess. I’m broken. Please.” She was so ashamed. “Take me home.”
“No, soniye.” He wiped away her tears that were just replaced by more. “Answer my question. Who do you belong to?”
She drew in a shuddering breath and closed her eyes. “You. I belong to you,” she whispered.
The bands around her chest loosened. Her breath came easier. Her muscles relaxed. Most of all, the tears stopped. Not like they were shut off or even as if she was “cried out,” but more like she was comforted and it was going to be okay.
He did that. This man, this Master, who knew her and still wanted her, he had faced the pit of despair inside her. She reached up, her hand trembling, and touched his face. “I love you, Sir. I didn’t want to tell you, and it’s okay if that’s too much, but I had to let you know.”
She had the questionable pleasure of seeing shock on his face. Surprisingly, he swallowed, as if he was preparing his words. She braced herself for the inevitable rejection.
Because she’d been expecting his immediate emotional withdrawal, she wasn’t prepared for his intense response. He jerked her closer and took possession of her mouth, savagely demanding her surrender.
His kiss held everything she’d ever wanted. It was fierce and protective, yet dangerous and hot. His hands, strong and warm, held her tightly to him, as if he was afraid she’d get away. But she wasn’t going anywhere. She loved him. He’d faced her demons and laughed at them. He’d never demanded more than she could give. He had accepted her exactly as she was and never insisted she be something else.
She indulged herself and buried her fingers in his hair, pressing her body to his. To her surprise, he trembled against her.
He broke the kiss and panted like he’d run a mile. “I love you too. With all my heart.”
Could it be true? It seemed like a miracle. “You do? Really?”
His dark gaze was filled with fire. “I’ve loved you for a long time, but I didn’t realize it until I saw another man’s hands on you.” His arms tightened around her. “I knew then that you were mine and no one else could have you.”
“That sounds a bit possessive, Finch.” Though she joked, her heart was filled with joy at his words. “Just as long as you realize that the same applies to you.”
He raised his eyebrows. “Oh
?”
She brushed her mouth with his. “You belong to me, Sir. Every beautiful, sinful, tempting inch of you.”
Beneath her lips, he smiled. “Brat.”
“Asshole.”
As he kissed her again, so tenderly that she thought she might cry more, she remembered how frightened she’d been to give in to the temptation to submit to him. She realized that yielding to the temptation had freed her in more ways than she could imagine.
And surprisingly, she appeared to be what he wanted. It seemed like a miracle. “Finch?”
He squeezed her ass. “What, brat?”
“Thank you.” She couldn’t meet his gaze. “Thanks for—”For what? What was she trying to say?
Her Master knew. “No, Victoria. Thank you. For sharing your heart. For trusting me.”
“I swear, Finch. It was my pleasure.” A giggle rose and escaped.
“Sir. You’re supposed to call me Sir, remember?” he said, exasperated.
“You like it too much.” She snuggled closer.
“I think you just want me to spank you again.” He laid heron the couch and loomed over her.
When she sighed, he laughed, and she bit him gently on the shoulder. “Don’t laugh at me. I love you, and yes, I do want you to spank me again.”
But as he began to kiss her from her collarbone to her belly button and lower, she thought maybe it could wait. He seemed to know it.
“Later, soniye. Later.”
Loose Id Titles by Jennifer Leeland
Declaration to Submit
Temptation to Submit
* * * *
The MARKED Series
Marked for Pleasure
Marked for Desire
Marked for Danger
Marked for Surrender
Jennifer Leeland
I never considered myself a writer…
I loved Harlequin romances when I was little and used to sneak them from my mother's bookshelf. But my father influenced me with Agatha Christie, Ngiao Marsh and Arthur Conan Doyle. I loved to write but never thought about becoming an author.
It has been a fabulous journey. I have a special relationship with my characters, who both annoy me and inspire me. And yes, they talk to me. In the shower. In the car. When I’m trying to sleep. Many have asked me why I write erotic romance. Believe me, it would probably be easier to write something my mom could tell her friends about. But I love the emotion, the conflict, the possibilities contained in erotic romance. When I read, I want to indulge in fantasies. I hope I can do the same for others.
I live with a Redneck, who loves to brainstorm with me on occasion, and my two dirt-faced Okie kids in the Northern California boonies.
Links where you can find Jennifer Leeland:
Web site: http://www.jenniferleeland.com/
Blog: http://jenniferleeland.wordpress.com/
Temptation to Submit Page 10
