by Cathryn Cade
His hard hand stung, and the sound of his palm connecting with her skin was loud in the quiet room. She clenched her fingers in the sheet, a squeak of pain escaping. She bit it back and waited for the next swat.
“All done.” He left her with a bottom that was on fire and a strange sense of satisfaction warming her heart.
“Good girl,” he praised her, his hand settling warm on the small of her back. “Now what do you say?”
“I’m sorry for not minding you, Trace.”
“Thank you.” He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “We’ll be talking more about punishment, though. You need to know when to push it and when to mind me. I want to be fucking you, not disciplining you. Were we at the club, I’d have used a paddle instead of my hand.”
“Yes, Trace.” She didn’t like the sound of that at all. Note to self: no misbehaving at the club.
She searched his face when he urged her onto her back, and relaxed a little. He might sound stern, but the easing of the lines around his mouth said he’d enjoyed spanking her.
He shook his head at her as he knelt between her open thighs, bracing himself easily on one arm. “You acted out on purpose, didn’t you?”
She reached up to stroke the sleek skin over his ribs placatingly. “I thought you’d like it.”
“Oh, I liked it. Anytime you want a spanking, I will be happy to give you one. Deal?”
She nodded, her cheeks hot with a kind of shame, because how twisted was that to agree that she would ask for spankings? But her pussy was also contracting with pleasure at the thought.
“Now lean up on your elbows,” he commanded. “And spread nice and wide for me. Want you watching when I come inside you this first time.”
Sara did as she was told, and the sight of him ready to take her, the sight of her open and wet for him, her sparse red curls and wet pink folds so fragile in contrast to his male size and strength, made her whimper with a pleasure-pain so strong it was nearly an orgasm.
“Sara,” he whispered, watching her. “If I touched you right now, you’d go off like a little firework, wouldn’t you?”
She nodded, writhing under his gaze, tightening her inner thighs on his, so much larger, more powerful and dusted with dark blond hair. “Yes, Trace.”
His nostrils flared, his jaw tightening. “Then let’s find out how fast, shall we?”
Yes,” she got out, and then he touched her. The firm pad of his finger stroked over her clitoris, once, twice, three times, and Sara came, hard, her pussy clenching around emptiness, gasping his name.
“Trace. Need you inside me,” she gasped. “Please.”
“Beautiful woman begging for my cock—I’m not arguing,” he said, leaning over to kiss her.
He took his cock in hand and guided himself to her opening. They both watched as her labia yielded to his shaft, then stretched as he slid inside. Sara whimpered at the sensation of being stretched to her limits as his thick shaft filled her. He drew out a little way, then thrust back in, farther this time.
“Christ, you’re so tight.” He thrust again, stopping when he met resistance from her body. He patted her thigh urgently. “Lift your legs up. That’s right.”
Sara slipped her hands under her thighs and lifted her legs higher, wider, changing the angle of her body.
“Ahh.” He groaned as he moved again, this time sinking all the way in, his groin flush with hers, his hips cradled by her thighs.
Trace looked down between them as he pulled out, then drove back in, deep inside her.
“So fucking hot, so pretty,” he said. Then he lifted his head and watched her face as he thrust again and again.
Sara whimpered as his cock rasped against tissues that were so ready, so excited yet stretched to the point of pain. He thrust harder, and drove against her G-spot.
“Trace,” she moaned. “Yes. Yes, oh please…don’t stop. Don’t stop.”
He kissed her again, sucking her lower lip in hard and then letting it go. “That’s right, Red. Beg me. Beg me sweet. Need to hear you.”
He followed this command by a sharp smack on her thigh. Sara went wild, pleasure imploding around his cock.
“Trace, please oh please,” she whimpered. “Oh, oh. Please don’t stop. Please, oh it’s so good.” Then her words broke and trailed off in a high, thin cry as he went wild in her arms, hammering into her with long, hard strokes that made the bed creak, the heavy headboard slamming against the wall, and her world narrow down and down to the man over her, inside her. Making her come harder than she ever had before.
When at last he was still, his heavy weight pressing her into the bed, his chest moving like a bellows, breath damp and hot in her hair, Sara lay under him, her body and mind lax with pleasure.
Trace groaned. “Amazing.”
She smiled, turning her face against his. “It was?” She slipped her hands up the damp sides of his torso and stroked his back, damp with perspiration, the long muscles moving under her touch.
He lifted his head and gave her a quizzical look. “I don’t know what you’re comparing to, but yeah. Hell, yeah.”
She chuckled. “I agree. I don’t, um, have that much to compare to. Size- or skill-wise. But you…” She broke off, shrugging.
He grinned at her and pressed a kiss to her lips. “Now you’re just gonna make my big head swell like you did my little one.”
He moved, and she caught her breath at the pleasure as her pussy contracted in answer. He noted this, his eyes narrowing. Then he lifted up enough to crook one leg under hers, still inside her. He reached between them, his fingers in her wet folds.
“What are you doing?” she asked, shivering as he found her swollen clitoris and stroked it.
“Petting you,” he said. “I only get one orgasm per, but you can do more than that.”
She really, really liked what he was doing, but she’d never come more than once, and she’d already broken that record tonight. “I don’t think so, Trace.”
He raised his brows and pinched her clitoris between two of his fingers. “I do. And here’s the deal, Red. When I tell you to come, you come. Or, if I tell you to wait, you wait. You got that?”
She shivered again, her pussy contracting around his cock as he pinched gently, then stroked. “Oh. That feels…”
He withdrew his touch, and then she started as he slapped her on the inner thigh, a sharp sting. “How do you answer me, Red?”
“Yes, Trace,” she said instantly. “I, um, come when you say I do.”
He nodded and bent his head to kiss her again. “And you wait when I tell you to wait.”
She kissed him back, savoring his warm, lazy mouth. He stroked her again, his touch firm and knowing. And incredibly, Sara felt arousal gather stronger and stronger, her pussy clasping his cock, which was still big even though relaxed.
Then he stopped and pulled carefully out of her. Sara gaped at him, shocked, her pussy empty and now pulsing with need again.
Trace tapped her nose with his finger. “Now, you’re gonna wait. Until later this morning, then I’ll let you come. If you’re good, that is.”
He raised his brows at her, and Sara dug her nails into her palms instead of smacking him across his handsome mug, which was what she wanted to do. Frowning, she searched his gaze with her own. Why should she wait instead of catching the orgasm that waited just out of reach?
“Why?” she asked.
“That’s an honest question, so I’ll answer honestly. I want you to submit to me, Sara. I want every one of your orgasms to be mine. I want to be there every time you come, whether I’m touching you, inside you or just watching you get yourself off, because I wanna watch. Can you do that for me?”
Could she? If she said yes, this was another step deeper into his domination. She wasn’t a liar or a cheater. If she agreed, that meant she’d do this. She stroked her fingers over the hard swell of his bicep, warmth replacing her disappointment as he waited, not impatient but not giving an inch either. His patience, his v
ery sureness melted her resistance.
“Yes, Trace.”
He grinned, eyes twinkling. “That’s my girl. Now go get in the shower. And I’ll know if you touch yourself.”
She eyed him over her shoulder as she slid off the bed. “You better not have a camera in the bathroom, Bowen. That’s just too weird.”
He shook his head at her. “I have something better. I know women, and I’m learning you. So I’ll know.” His gaze lowered to her ass, and he smiled. “You look good with your ass pink. Thank you for that. More where that came from if you disobey me.”
“I agreed,” she said. “I’m not a cheater.”
He gave her that look that said she’d surprised him and he was taking it in, learning her, storing this new information away. “You’re right. I’m sorry, Red.”
His apology was sincere. Also, in some weird way, his edict was like a warm touch that followed her away from his arms. He cared what she felt, how she felt, and wanted to be the one who made her feel good, sexually at least.
“We’ll go down to breakfast as soon as you’re ready,” he called after her. “Then I’ll show you the pool.”
A swim. That sounded great. She hadn’t had a swim since last time she met Daisy and Carlie at their favorite park on the Columbia River. And a swim with Trace, even better. She just hoped he’d behave himself.
He did, sort of. If one could count the fact that the swimsuit he’d bought her was a shiny black one-piece with high-cut legs, and instead of a halter, the bodice was a complicated mix of fabric and chains. Sara struggled into it, snapped the halter at the back of her neck, gasped and then glared at her reflection in the mirror. He’d bought her a swimsuit with a collar.
“Trace Bowen!” she yelled through the bathroom doorway. “This thing makes me look like bondage Barbie!”
He instantly appeared in the doorway, wearing a pair of gray-and-white swim trunks that hung from his narrow hips, revealing the sexy cuts above his hipbones, and his bellybutton. Which she wanted to jab with a sharp object.
He waggled his brows, a slow grin appearing as he looked her over from head to toe. “Hmm, I’d say more like Nadia Naughty, super spy.”
She curled her lip at him. “So funny. I am not wearing this thing in front of your family.” Half her ass was hanging out, although at least it was no longer pink.
“That’s too bad, Red,” he said regretfully. “’Cause it’s either that or naked.”
Then he swooped, grabbed her around the hips and hauled her over his shoulder. Sara let out a shriek and beat her fists on his back. “You put me down. Trace!”
He didn’t listen, although she scolded him all the way along the hallway and out through a side door and across the lawns. She also pinched him in the ribs and kneed him hard on the pec. All of which he bore with stoic patience, until they reached the pool. Sara had one glimpse of the expanse of turquoise and a few people sitting around the edge, and then she was flying through the air, still over Trace’s shoulder.
She landed feetfirst, which was the only reason she didn’t murder him. Instead, she surfaced, tipped her head back to sweep her wet hair from her eyes and glared. Then she pasted a hurt look on her face and sniffled.
“Trace,” scolded his mother from the edge of the pool. “What on earth? You’ve hurt the poor girl. Come here, sweet thing, and I’ll get you a towel.”
“Thank you,” Sara said.
She swam over to Frances, who wore a white linen cover-up, a huge picture hat and sunglasses with mules on her feet. She beckoned to Sara and clucked to her as Sara climbed the steps from the water.
“Oh my,” she said when Sara stood before her. “What an interesting bathing suit. Have a towel.”
Sara took the towel, stuck her tongue out at Trace, who was watching from the water, and followed his mother to a chaise lounge. He gave her a look that said he knew exactly what she was up to, and swam away.
Frances and her two cronies were drinking mimosas—strong ones. Sara drank half of hers and then said bravely that she guessed she would swim a little, if Trace would be nice to her.
Frances immediately yoo-hooed him over to the side of the pool and lectured him lovingly on being gentler with his lovely date. Sara smiled angelically at him and slipped into the pool to swim away.
Trace stayed by the side of the pool, hanging on the edge and charming his mother’s friends for a while. When he swam out to Sara, she’d completed four laps.
“This collar makes my neck itch,” she told him.
He tipped her head up and examined the spot, his hands warm in the cool water. “Stop scratching, Red, you’re going to give yourself a rash.” Then he grinned at her. “Although you deserve one. You make my palm itch.”
“I’d say we’re even,” she retorted.
He shrugged. “You may be right. Although I’m not sorry. That suit looks even better wet.”
“I’m burning it when I get home.”
“That’s all right. I have pictures.”
“I’ll burn your phone too.”
He kissed her, right there in front of everyone. “No, you won’t.”
She pulled away, and he pulled her back. “Manda and her bitches just arrived. I need you.”
Sara sighed. “Oh, all right. Nadia reporting for duty.” She thought her fake Russian accent was pretty good.
“Thanks, Agent Naughty,” he said, his hands on her mostly bare ass. “I’d say you look great undercover, but…not much of you is under cover.”
He laughed as she splashed water in his face.
Chapter Eleven
Jake clicked his phone off and laid it on the bedside table. Carlie leaned up on an elbow, pushed back the hair he had just finished messing up and looked at him, holding the sheets to her breasts. She was enjoying their lazy Sunday morning, in his king-size bed. Outside his house, the morning fog that sometimes rolled in even in summer was burning off, and a strip of sunlight had made it under the half-pulled blinds.
“Was that Trace?” She’d heard his name once, then the rest of Jake’s side of the conversation had been a series of manly grunts, yups and nopes. Typical Jake, not wasting words.
“Yeah.” His gaze cut to her, and he shook his head once. “This is gettin’ weird. You and me, Daisy and Dack, and now he just spent the weekend with Sara.”
Her eyes widened in delight. “Oh my God. Really? What happened?” She and Daisy had been hoping and praying for this ever since Sara met the handsome stockbroker and became unusually flustered.
“Took her down to his mom’s for some party. He fuckin’ hates her second husband, so why he took Sara there is anybody’s guess. He said she went as a friend, but…”
“But what?” She leaned closer. “Jake—gimme.”
“Gimme?” he repeated, one of his heavy brows flying up. “Is that ladylike? I’m shocked, Ms. Melton. What would your mother say?”
Oh, he was so teasing her. He knew she wanted details.
She growled and pulled up one knee for leverage to lunge astride of him in the bed, the sheets discarded. He laughed, the deep huh-huh in his chest that she loved, as she landed on his groin, her hands on his forearms, and let her force his massive arms back on the pillow.
He grinned up into her face. “You gonna force me to talk? Is that how this works?”
She rolled her eyes. “I wish. No, I’m here to give you an incentive, Sergeant. Talk, and I stay here and do whatever you want.” She rolled her hips, the movement pressing his cock into the sleek furrow between her thighs.
He groaned. “Baby, you just got done wearing me out. I need some recovery time.”
Smiling smugly, she bent to touch her nose to his, her long hair falling around them in a curtain. As usual, his scent and heat sent a shiver of pleasure through her. “How about for a kiss, then?”
“Hmm. Now that might work. If it’s nice, long one.”
“Those are my favorite kind,” she whispered and kissed him on the wide mouth that had irritated,
befuddled and bedazzled her for months by looking so grim when he saw her. Until she finally realized that it was because her huge, tough Marine wanted her, and was fighting the changes he knew this was going to bring.
As their lips met and clung, he tugged his arms free and closed them around her, caging her in a gentle prison. He deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with hers. Mm-mm, Jake kissed her every time like this might be his last chance, and he was getting everything he could while he could. This always made her melt. Naked kisses were even better.
It was a long time before they parted just enough for him to sigh, his chest moving mightily under her. “Can’t believe I waited so fuckin’ long to kiss you, baby.”
“That’s okay,” she said with a quick kiss on the little creases beside his mouth. “Now you can make up for lost time.”
Then she lifted her head and frowned at him. “And now I want my information. Please,” she added quickly when his brows lifted in a familiar, arrogant command.
He smirked. “Dunno, subbie. Might need another kiss, somewhere else. You’re gettin’ me all worked up again.”
“I did notice that. Hard not to, with you, Sergeant.”
His smirk widened into a grin of pride. “Thanks, baby. You’re good for my ego.”
“You don’t have an ego, you just have a—a dominating streak as wide as your shoulders.”
“And you love it,” he shot back.
She gazed into his gray eyes, eyes that could be as cold as ice, or warm and twinkling as they were now. Eyes that held her future, whether he knew it or not. And this was scary, because she knew he wanted her now, but for how long?
“Yes,” she admitted. “I do.” And let him see her heart in her eyes.
He stilled, his gaze probing, then filling with something like wonder. He opened his mouth to speak, swallowed and tried again. “You mean you love me?” he asked, his voice rough with emotion.
Her heart thumped but then settled as an absolute rightness filled her, warm and light and buoyant. “Yes. I love you, Jacob Stone.”
Jake gave a deep groan, and his arm tightened on her waist, the other loosening so that he could cup the side of her head in his big hand. “Aw, baby. I guess I— Fuck, I mean I know I love you too.”
