Iron Dominance

by Cari Silverwood

  Steadily, he thrust in and out of her mouth, gripping her shoulder and head. She tasted saltiness and the sweetness of the grape juice from where his fingers had touched his cock.

  He slowed, drew back to her lips with just the head inside.

  “Enough.” He withdrew, his cock popping wet from her mouth. This time, he was the one gasping. She looked up at him from beneath her brows and lazily curved her tongue across her lips. Daring him.

  “Ha.” He laughed throatily. “You’re getting too cheeky. Your turn.”

  Returning with the cushions, he dumped them at her feet. The strength in his arms surprised her as he tilted her back, arranging the cushions under her neck, back, and bottom until her lower body arched upward, her arms trapped under her, though padded by the soft cushions. He’d slipped her leggings lower, wrapping them about her ankles like soft manacles. If she’d felt exposed before…now she was blatantly on display. Coolness licked her skin.

  Openmouthed, lips bruised, tongue still remembering his taste, she stared at Theo standing over her and wondered what he meant to do. Whatever it was, she could barely move in any direction.

  She shivered and felt a fresh tide of moisture flood her pussy.

  He spread her knees so her legs opened. “Stay like that, Claire. I want to see all of you.”

  He put his hand down there. Two of his fingers touched her turgid lips, moving her juices along her slit, then over her aching clit. She gasped and tensed. His fingers lifted away, and she heard him kneel by her side, then felt his fingers anointing her nipples with her own juices, his hands wrapping around each swollen breast as if they were fruit he could pluck.

  She strained, lifting her head to watch for a few seconds. All she could see was her squashed-together breasts and Theo.

  He rose up from his knees and kissed each nipple, laying his warm tongue on each, then licking across. So sensitive—she groaned and felt the tiny bumps on his tongue trail over her. She flopped her head back and thrust up her groin. Releasing one breast, he found her pussy, one finger slip-sliding inside her to its full length. Her muscles clamped on him, pulsing at the slide and tug. His other fingers, she lost count of how many, pressed in, stretching her.

  “Ah. Ah.” She moaned to the sky, mouth so open her jaw hurt. “More.”

  He lifted his lips from her breast, his fingers slipped from her pussy. “No talking.”

  “Uh.” Blindly, she nodded agreement. Anything to get him to resume all the things he did to her body.

  The renewed rhythm of fingers and tongue brought her, shaking, like the ratcheting upward of a chain, to the sweaty hot edge. When his thumb slid onto her erect clit, she thrust the tip of her tongue out. The slickness, the slip and slide inside, and the gentle twirl of thumb on her clit… With a small gasp and a scream, she let go. Exploding pleasure welded her body into one rigid arch of muscle, her pussy locking tight on to his fingers. Yes!

  Sunlight blanched like white fire through her eyelids.

  When she felt her heartbeat slow and her lungs calm, she opened her eyes to a slit to find Theo smiling down at her.

  “Now that was something wonderful to watch. Happy?”

  The words to answer him were lost in a dazed jumble in her mind.

  “My turn,” he said with a predatory glint in his eye. Again he arranged her body, turning her over so her ass was in the air, her face on its side against a cushion. “How are your arms? Sore? Numb?”

  Half-lost in memories of orgasm, she opened and closed her hands, abruptly reminded of the grip of buckle and leather around her. Nothing gave. Nothing seemed numb. She chose not to speak and shook her head. It would be sacrilege to speak. Her temples still thudded with the pounding of blood.

  With an open hand, he slapped her bottom, sending a jolt of pleasure to her loins, and she grunted, unable to stop the instinctive arch of her bottom upward. Already her body stirred.

  “I’ll take that as a yes, I’m perfectly happy?” He put that hand back and massaged. “Your bottom is so nicely made for smacking.”

  She knew she should glare back at him for that smug tone, but couldn’t—her body quivered with expectation. Ahh, that a simple smack could do this to her. She wished he’d do it again.

  She buried her face in the cushion, blocking out light and turning the world into one of pure feel and smell. And the ripe, rich smell of lust thickened the air.

  His hands gripped each cheek of her ass; then instead of his cock, something flicked across her sensitive clit and up along her slit. His tongue. Her fists clenched and loosened. With his tongue playing slither and glide across her labia and clit, slowly, he drove her back into arousal. Whenever she tensed as if about to come, he drew back for a few moments, until she was biting the cushion in frustration, her fists closed, her bottom straining up for more.

  She lost track of how many times he did this, and then, to her surprise, instead of his tongue, the blunt stretch at her opening told her his cock demanded entrance. With a body-jarring thump, he went all the way in—a savage thrust into her wet tunnel. She gasped. Oh. My. God. And again. His flesh slapped against her, stretching her vagina fully at the zenith of each thrust. She lay there accepting everything he gave her, loving it, wanting to take him in to the very limit.

  The cushions rocked under her to the movement of her body. She knew she grunted and moaned with each lunge, but nothing mattered. If anyone saw, she didn’t care. Something grabbed her clit. Ah, his finger, his thumb, and they squeezed in time to his thrusts.

  Too much. She crested a wave about to break, gasping, poised and straining, at the very heart-pounding edge.

  With one final push, his cock pulsed, and he came, erupting into her. She opened her mouth and screamed into the cushion at her own release. She lay there, almost mindless, shivering and throbbing now and then from the tardy yet delicious spasms in her womb.

  When he pulled off her leggings, undid the buckles at her back, and rolled her over, she let him, so limp and exhausted, she could barely raise a shaky hand to wipe the tangle of hair from her face. Theo kissed her softly yet thoroughly.

  “There, my love,” he said. “Let’s lie here a while. When you’re ready, we’ll swim.”

  He pulled her in close to his side, cradling her in his arms.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Theo ran his hand along the sweet undulations of Claire’s waist and hip before tucking his arm over her and cupping the roundness of her breast. He smiled at the signs of exhaustion—the rise and fall of her chest and the urgent beat of blood at her throat. Underneath her skin, Claire was all woman, and he enjoyed arousing her, but even more so, he loved coaxing her along the path toward submissiveness, her natural inclination, and that she resisted a little, every step of the way, just made it tastier.

  Sunlight gilded the tiny soft hairs at her nape. He drifted his fingertips across them just to see her quiver.

  “Uh-uh. Don’t,” she whispered, crunching her neck to escape. “That tickles.”

  “And this?” He used his teeth on the same spot.

  “That, I’d like more of.” She curved her neck the other way, exposing it.

  He chuckled. “Perhaps later. Are you rested enough for a swim? Can you swim?”

  She sighed, hard. “Yes.”

  “What is it? Hmm? Memories? You’ve not yet told me enough to satisfy my curiosity.”

  No answer. He pinched her side, and when she only squirmed, he pinched her nipple, held it.

  She jerked, then pawed at him, remaining silent, so he held on longer. Eventually she gave in. “What?

  “I need an answer.” He released her nipple.

  “We’re not still playing that game?” she said, tersely. “You said that Dankyo would handle this.”

  “He can get the details. This is personal. You and me. An answer, Claire. We need to be honest with each other, and I suspect there is a great deal you haven’t told me. But you will. I won’t, can’t, tolerate dishonesty or evasion in an employee
or a mistress.”

  That brought on another silence. He could almost see her mind ticking over. Stunned, certainly. She hadn’t realized how much he’d guessed. This had to come out sometime.

  Still silence. Perhaps a reminder was in order. He shifted his hand, wormed it down between them, found her little nether hole, and inserted the tip of his finger while securing her body with his other arm. “Or do I get to play here, next time we make love?”

  She squeaked and wriggled even more. Though, damned be, if he’d ever held anything that wriggled so cutely before. His cock thickened, hardened. He pushed his finger in to the second knuckle, and she stopped moving.

  “Is that…natural?” There was a breathless tone to her words.

  “Maybe. Are you enjoying that?” Just to check, he slid the finger farther, made his other finger lie along her slit.

  “I…I’m not sure,” she said quietly, but the twitch of her labia said otherwise.

  “Hmm.” He nibbled her ear. “We’ll definitely have to explore this another time. But it doesn’t excuse you from answering.”

  She sighed. “Am I your…mistress?”

  “I hope so. If not, I have no idea who I’ve been making love to.” He maneuvered his lower hand and sneaked a finger into her cleft.

  “Oh. Mmm. If this is your idea of torture.” Her bottom writhed back. “No. I’m sorry. Theo…” She swallowed, and his heart skipped a beat. This was the second time she’d said his name without prompting. “Swimming reminds me of training. I learned how to use a knife and fight in water. Things like that.” She shuddered. “I don’t like remembering. I don’t like killing.”

  “And have you killed?” He found he’d held his breath.

  “Once. They made us kill a prisoner each. Said it would harden us, make us stronger in combat.” Another shudder. “I threw up after. Do I have to talk about this?”

  “No.” She’d said enough to make him wonder at what, exactly, her employers were aiming at. The training was extreme for mere bodyguards.

  She’d said in combat, which seemed a little askew from being a bodyguard. He filed it away. Perhaps that avenue of investigation could stand further probing. The thought brought him back to the present and where his fingers were embedded.

  “Find something else to tell me. Something pleasant about your past.” He couldn’t resist moving his fingers again, down below. It mightn’t have quite been appropriate considering what she’d just said, but it worked in distracting her. He figured she needed diverting as much as he did.

  “You had a childhood, Claire? Surely they didn’t deny you that.”

  Claire stayed quiet a moment as she felt his fingers stroke inside her. This felt odd, even uncomfortable, yet combined with everything else he did, it triggered ripples of heat.

  “My childhood. We’re made to be about the same as an eight-year-old human,” she said, opening her legs an inch and letting her eyes drift to half-closed. “Does that shock you?”

  “No. I knew this. Our country has studied the making of, uh, the birth of, frankenstructs for some time.”

  “Birth?” She spat the word. She heard the hiss of exhalation from Theo. He withdrew his fingers. Ah, now that was a pity.

  “You’d rather another word, Claire? Words are just words. How we use them makes them what they are. And I say, you were born. Your childhood?”

  She shrugged, wondering what he hoped to gain from this. “Rarely, they let us run about the compound or play ball. The training runs outside were fun but not like the children’s games in those books you gave me.” She paused. “Is it really like that, all the time, for children?”

  “Not all the time,” he murmured. “But that someone is doing this deliberately to frankenstructs, simply to train you to do what they want…”

  She turned her head and looked into those near transparent pupils, saw sadness there, and put up her hand to touch his cheek. “Thank you, Theo.”

  He raised those thick eyebrows, questioning her.

  “For being so…nice.”

  “Nice?” His voice deepened to a sensuous baritone. “Nice is for men who wear frothy pink shirts and makeup.” He smacked the side of her bottom, hard, and she jumped. “Come. Time to swim.”

  Naked, wading into the river, surrounded by reeds and water lilies, with the morning sun glinting off the ripples of water, and Theo by her side—it was beautiful enough to make Claire wonder, Why am I here?

  Upon diving beneath the water, she saw the line between blue sky and the cold realm of rounded rock and drifting weed, submerged tree root and fish—it seemed to spell out the transformation of her life. Why indeed. Why does Theo bother with me?

  The other side to it, she thought, as she parted the cool waters with her skin, was to speculate what would happen when Theo suddenly decided she was no longer interesting. She had nothing to offer, except her body. No matter how much she willed it otherwise. It couldn’t last, could it?

  Then why did it feel so genuine when he told her he wanted her as his mistress?

  For a human, perhaps, it would mean little. A mistress wasn’t forever. To her, it was a world of difference from “slave.” The word made her someone of consequence, who mattered. Girlfriend, wife, fiancée, betrothed—any of them were wonderful because they all said she was a part of his world.

  Yet humans are fickle. I know that too, and being a part of his world is no longer enough. I think…I know, I want forever.

  More likely for the wind to always blow in one direction than for her to remain a part of Theo’s heart.

  She did a swirling kick to roll and swoop toward him.

  Enjoy. Stop worrying. What else can I do?

  She blew bubbles in the cold water, surfacing near him, gasping for air. Hugging her from behind, Theo’s arms enfolded her below her breasts—hard, muscular arms. She felt across his biceps. Every muscle was delineated like a diagram from a book. No matter how much exercise she did, she never quite changed into this. His body pressed against her, and she laid her head back. Though their skin had grown cool, his breath warmed her cheek.

  “What a lovely armful you are.”

  “I could say the same.” She stretched back and ran her hand down his side. “I love the way you feel too.” She heaved a sigh. “The way you hold me.”

  “Ahh. That’s some confession—from you, Miss Blabbermouth. Maybe if I tickle you some more, I’ll get even more out of you.”

  She giggled and slipped down through his arms. With a kick of her heels she dived away.

  “Hey! Come back!”

  For a while they chased each other through and under the water, until he cornered her in some reeds and forced a wet, slobbery kiss on her. It made her giggle even more. They ended up lying side by side in the shallows, just holding hands and looking at the clouds drifting past overhead.

  Theo pulled himself upright and sloshed toward the embankment.

  “Swim’s over!”

  “Oh.”

  Rising from the water, she found Theo staring at her. Feet sunk into the shallows, he stood straight and apparently unaware of how much he affected her. All that chiseled muscle, those broad thighs beckoning her to lay a hand on him, and, oh dear, the ridges of his stomach leading the eye down to look at his groin—

  “A river goddess,” he said, smiling. “Where have you come from? What have I done to deserve you?”

  She blinked, then shook off some of the water dripping from her nose and eyelashes. A goddess? Embarrassed, she bowed her head.

  “I’m the one who should be asking that.” She gathered a rope of her hair and wrung it out.

  “Never.”

  That struck like a spear into her middle.

  Happiness wasn’t normal for her. That one extra comment, it hit and tipped over the pile of compliments and joy that had been building up for hours. Too much, too soon. She felt sick. Deep inside a black mess of insecurities and anguish waited to boil over. Too damn much.

  She wished she could
go back to how she’d felt only moments before. Glumly, she turned from him.

  “Claire?”

  She picked her way back up the bank, the rounded rocks slipping underfoot. From the looks of the sun it must be midmorning. She barely hesitated before aiming for the pile of clothing.

  “Claire, don’t turn from me. Perhaps it’s time to remind you of my rules of politeness.” His words seethed with threat.

  A distant crackle drew her attention. She slipped automatically into the alert state training had drummed into her—scanning the shadows under the trees a few yards away, listening. The revolver was holstered in Theo’s belt at her feet. She bent, scooped up the belt, and nestled her hand on the butt. The gun slid out easily. A nice weight. It would kick up and back when fired.

  “There’s nothing here.” Theo stalked up behind her. “My men have been through here hours ago. If you’ve seen a footprint, it’ll be one of theirs.”

  “No,” she murmured, still checking the perimeter. “Not a footprint.” Something is out there and running. Maybe coming this way.

  The loud crunching and rustling of something big moving fast came from the right, where the shrubs were barely four yards away.

  She kicked into sharp time. The sound of Theo’s next words slurred and stretched. A black bear burst from the tree line, heading straight for them. Droplets of sprayed blood glistened, falling slowly, like red diamonds frozen in the sun. The bear was wounded and angry.

  A bullet might stop it quickly, or it might keep coming and shred them both before it died.

  “Get back,” she yelled to Theo. She aimed at the head—Damn, I hate killing it—then shifted and hit the foreleg. The impact spun the leg back and out before the bear compensated and came on, limping and even angrier. She side-stepped fast, then danced about wildly with her hands waving. “Hey! Here, stupid!”

  Too heavy to shift direction quickly, it lumbered round, swung its head her way, and came for her, eyes gleaming. Yes, one very angry bear. Claire took off, sprinting, toes digging into dirt. It’s coming! She could hear Theo bellowing. Ignore him. Mustn’t get too far ahead, or the bear’ll turn back.