The Dani Collins Erotic Romance Collection: Mastering Her RolePlaying the Master

by Dani Collins

Panic, disappointment and denial all exploded to churn inside her.

  “Perhaps someday you’ll have to,” he murmured and, with a languid move of his arm, opened the door about three inches. “But not today. Hello, Arianne. You look beautiful.”

  Joy burst within her, bringing a smile, pleasure, relief. “It was the spa. Thank you,” she said huskily, waiting for him to move.

  He didn’t, just watched her.

  Oh. Licking her lips, she stepped forward, not having to go on tiptoe much since the shoes made her so tall. She took a moment to tease him as Jason had teased her last night when he’d held her against her wall. She let him feel the heat of her lips against his, nuzzling and tickling, then slowly sealed their mouths.

  He opened his lips, pulled with light suction, flicked with his tongue, inviting hers. She complied, moaning softly as he drew on her, tangling and toying and finally releasing.

  She took a shaky breath.

  He smiled and took one more step back. “Come in.”

  She did, finding the room much as it had been the day before but with the sofa moved to the center of the room this time. It wasn’t really a sofa, but one of those divans with only one side and a partial back. He had draped it with a rust-colored sheet.

  As the door closed and locked behind her, he asked, “Did you enjoy the spa?” He picked up her hands in his gloved ones and inspected the crime-red polish.

  “I did, thank you.”

  He brought her hands up, barely rubbing her nails over his lips, so light she couldn’t even feel the pressure of it. “Did you enjoy your homework?”

  His gaze came to hers over her own knuckles, full of heat and knowledge, as though he’d witnessed how many times the fingers he held had groped between her thighs.

  “Yes.” She barely choked out the word through her clogged throat, barely held his gaze while intense heat blazed up to engulf her. The plump, overworked lips between her legs throbbed.

  With a faint quiver of his nostrils, he took a deep breath. “Were you alone in the elevator?”

  She swallowed. “Yes.”

  “Did you touch yourself while you rode up here?”

  She had wanted to. After fantasizing in that vibrating chair then feeling soft hands stroke and comb through her hair, she’d been on fire—but too scared someone might catch her to lift her skirt and soothe the growing ache.

  She shook her head.

  “You’ll have to do it here, then, won’t you?” He closed his eyes and sniffed again at her knuckles, ignoring her gasp as he turned her palms up, almost kissing her wrist before he suddenly straightened away. “But I forget. Today I may look and touch, but oral stimulation waits for another lesson. You’ll find today’s costume behind the screen.”

  “I—” She wanted to argue the suggestion of masturbating in front of him but he only looked at her with a bland expression.

  “Question?” he asked.

  Inhibition warred with the scent of fresh polish and hairspray. Her inhibitions were down in the spa, where he’d paid her to leave them. Swallowing back a protest that she couldn’t possibly stroke herself to orgasm in front of him, she shook her head and turned, forcing her feet to carry her toward the screen.

  “Imagine you’re walking a tightrope,” he said behind her. “One foot directly in front of the other.”

  She slowed her step, concentrating and placing each step deliberately. As she moved, she became aware of a sway in her hips, a shift in her center of gravity that changed her posture.

  “That’s very nice, Arianne. You’re an excellent student.”

  She glanced over her shoulder to see him watching and flashed a smile as she disappeared behind the screen.

  Of course she was immediately flummoxed. There was no getting out of this dress without destroying it, and she had no idea how she’d get into the new one. It took her a few moments to even figure out what it was.

  Stockings and a garter. Huh. Jason didn’t like pantyhose, but apparently Dominic liked them if they were black lace and ended midthigh. Okay. With some delicate wriggling, she was able to lift the skirt of the red dress and clasp the garter belt around her waist. These new nails got in the way of everything, she discovered.

  The buckles on the suspenders dangled cold and sharp against her thighs as she straightened the belt to the right position. Now the black miniskirt. Made of shiny black satin, it had none of the red dress’s stretch. Carefully easing the skirt over the belt, she got it up to where it hugged her hips tight, following the slope of her lower back as she zipped it. The hem barely reached a decent length. Her butt cheeks would be falling out along with the suspender clips.

  Next came the sheer black blouse, or— “Does the blouse go under or over the bustier?” she asked.

  “The blouse is for when you leave. You’ll need help with the corset. Bring it to me.”

  Meeting her wide-eyed gaze in the mirror, she reminded herself she’d asked for this. Carefully pulling the red dress over her head, she flattened the open corset to her front and walked out with its cool satin and firm shape concealing her breasts and stomach, leaving her upper chest, shoulders and back bare.

  Dominic regarded her as she appeared. “Where are the stockings and shoes?”

  “I was afraid my nails would snag them.”

  He nodded. “Let’s take care of that first.”

  Leaving her hugging the corset, he went behind the screen to retrieve the black stockings. He had black shoes dangling in his other hand when he reappeared. “Come.” He sat on the divan, his legs open, and pointed to the position between them.

  Arianne moved forward, catching her breath when he bent to take her heel in one hand and press the back of her knee with the other, lifting her leg until her foot rested on his thigh.

  Still using her forearms to cling to the corset, she dropped one hand as her skirt rode up, hiding the hair that tickled into her palm.

  “Are you eager to show me your homework already?” he asked, pausing with the lace of the stocking balled against her toes. The muscle in his thigh flexed against the arch of her foot. His breath grazed the bare skin of her inner thigh. His gaze, hot and knowing, lingered on her new manicure.

  “No,” she said, blurting the word without thinking.

  “Sure?” He moved so his gloved hand covered hers and he pressed, hard.

  The move unbalanced her a little. She had to push back. The pressure of her own fingers hit her mound, grinding beneath the will of his. Arousal spiked into her belly and stabbed between her thighs. If she swayed just a bit, rocked her hips forward and back, her lips would part over her fingers and she’d find herself slick and throbbing. Ready.

  She whimpered, holding very still. “Wh-why do you even want to see that?” she asked, her voice straining to a whisper.

  “Do you have any idea how sexy it is to watch a woman arouse and please herself?”

  “No,” she laughed. “Of course not.”

  “I didn’t think so.” He eased his pressure on her hand, skimmed his hand down slowly so he traced the seam between her two middle fingers. “That’s why I’m going to show you.”

  He turned his attention to rolling the stockings up her legs, his motions deft and well practiced, buckling them to the garters as though he’d done it thousands of times.

  Then he set the shoes in front of her. Tall, black and strappy, they fit perfectly. Hmm, it wasn’t as if Jason was in her closet to see her shoe size, but Dominic had even less opportunity to know. As she tucked her feet into the T shape he’d recommended earlier, she tried to surreptitiously study him, but he nodded and stepped behind her.

  “Don’t stand like that right now. We have to get you into this corset. Part your feet.”

  She tried, but the skirt had no give. Nevertheless, Dominic’s boot came between her legs from behind. She felt his hot, hard thigh invade the space between hers, cool leather and hard muscle against bare skin where the stockings ended.

  “What—”

&n
bsp; “Lean forward. Your breasts have to fall into the cups.”

  “But—”

  He took the edges of the corset in his hands and used his size and the weight of his chest to push her forward so she bent, thrusting her backside into his lap.

  His leather pants were soft enough to mold his shape and give to hers, but the light sweat on her skin, and the way he jiggled her, settled her firmly on his thigh. She became trapped by the skirt, and her inner thighs adhered to the leather.

  “Now use your hands to make sure your breasts settle into the cups.”

  The satin of the cups, gathered and soft, fell in slack bowls from the underwire. She ensured she was in position, sparing only the tiniest breath for a caress of the nipples she had pinched to the point of bruising last night, and said, “Okay.”

  The long cord of the lace slithered and tickled her back as Dominic worked it through the loops.

  “Lean on me,” he said, splaying one hand on her hip and driving her deeper onto his thigh.

  She made a sound of surprise and pleasure-pain as the hard muscle of his thigh hit her tender, throbbing lips.

  “Sore?” he asked, flexing his thigh muscle. “How many times did you practice, Arianne?”

  “Let’s just say I got it right.” She adjusted the satin cups over her breasts, trying to get the horizontal gathers just right. “Oh, there’s a hole in this one,” she said.

  “There’s a gap in both of them, so they can be peeled up and down, releasing your nipples and breasts for admiration and pleasure.” He yanked on the cords.

  She caught her breath. As she gasped and tried to fill her lungs, her nipple popped free, dark pink and livid against the black swatch of satin. She tried to hide it only to have him jerk on the cords again.

  “I think that’s too tight,” she said in a strained voice.

  “A little constriction—” yank “—can be exciting. Feel that?” He moved one hand to her thigh and slid her skirt upward, exposing her cheeks. Grasping her bare hip, he crushed her butt against his bulge. Amid the catch of tender skin on leather, and the thrill of something between fear and excitement at his strength and dominance, she felt a different abrasion.

  “I’m wearing laces, too,” he said. “Pulled tight enough to refuse release. Today, anyway. No matter the temptations.” His fingertip touched her tailbone briefly, then he slid his arm around her and drew her upward to stand, his leg retreating from between hers with a stinging tack that made her draw a sharp breath.

  She couldn’t draw enough. The corset pinned her into a Victorian posture that relegated her to half breaths and an arched back that encouraged her to stick out her backside.

  He tugged her skirt into place and said, “There. Walk a little. See how you feel.”

  She did, taking a small turn around the divan, passing the fireplace, watching out of the corner of her eye to see if he followed her with his gaze.

  “That’s very nice, Arianne,” he said when she reached the fireplace. “Stay right there. I have two other items I’d like you to wear.” He went behind the screen and she heard the drawer in the little table open and close. When he returned, he held something made of feathers.

  “A mask?” she asked as he fit the owlish, russet-colored confection over her eyes.

  “And…”

  “Lipstick?” He’d surprised her. She let him tilt her chin and apply it himself. The earthy terra-cotta color went on in short, dry strokes, tugging at her lips as he gently painted them.

  “They said it’s more of a stain. It won’t smudge when we kiss goodbye later.”

  “Mmm. That’s good, I guess.”

  “I trust it will be very good. Now stand as I’ve shown you, right here.”

  She did, letting him make tiny adjustments to her pose, the fall of her hair. The feathery mask tickled a little, but she recognized a certain freedom in wearing it, like wearing sunglasses. She always felt more at liberty to people-watch when her eyes were hidden by mirrored lenses.

  Was that how he felt behind his mask? She was so curious about him. And a little shocked that she responded so strongly to him. Jason was the only other man who made her feel this way. Was it the resemblance between them? Or maybe they were both really well schooled in making a woman feel this way.

  Dominic had opened his black case. The lid hid the contents and he extracted only one item before closing it. A camera.

  “Oh,” she said with nervous tension sinking into her.

  “Oh,” he repeated, gently mocking. “Hold still.”

  She did, out of shock, and he startled her with a brief flash. A tiny hum followed and a white square emerged from the bottom.

  He showed it to her.

  This was not his grandmother’s Polaroid. The shot was small but clear as life, yet the woman barely looked like Arianne. She was slimmer and more stacked than she’d ever felt. She had great hair, sensually pouted lips stained a provocative burnt-red, and the mask made her look positively exotic.

  “Do you think, Arianne, that you would feel sufficiently disguised to allow me to take a few more shots? Some that are a little more…suggestive?”

  “How suggestive?”

  “Come here.” He led her up the three stairs onto the rise where the bed stood and over to the bay window. The sheer curtains remained closed, the tiny space warmed by the high sun. “Like this.”

  With her back to the window, he braced her arms wide and high on either side of the frame, then nudged her feet open as much as the skirt would allow without riding up. He swung her weight to one hip, took the photo in a quick snap, then, without looking at it, turned her to face the window and arranged her in the same position. This time he kept her weight centered and encouraged her to arch her back. Two flares of light flashed from different angles.

  “Which one do you prefer?” Dominic asked, arranging the three new photos. In the first window shot, facing the camera, Arianne appeared negligent, sassy and confident. The next, with her backside thrust out and her face in profile, she appeared to be issuing a dare or invitation. Heat pulled and curled low in her belly as her gaze lingered on that photo. Finally she moved to the last one.…

  “That’s like pornography, isn’t it?”

  He’d crouched low and closed in on the back of the skirt. It framed her from skirt zipper to the tops of her stockings. The suspenders cut black lines down the backs of her thighs while the skirt’s hem was so short it revealed a few pubic hairs glinting in the frost of the window’s backlighting.

  “I like it,” he told her. “Here. Try this.” He shifted her again so she braced one knee on the bay window, her back against the recessed wall. One hand reached behind her to clutch the curtain rod, the other went between her thighs. “Lift your hips, darling. Make it look like you’re humping your fingers.”

  She bit her lip, wanting to thrust her fingers up inside the slippery cavity but resisting. She couldn’t. She just couldn’t.

  “Oh, that’s nice, darling. Hold that, just like that, with your teeth and…” She opened her eyes as she felt his fingers on her breast, exposing one nipple. “Push your hand a little deeper,” he whispered and she did, finding wet heat, throbbing desire.

  Three quick flashes.

  Breathing shakily, she removed her hand and straightened, glancing around for a surreptitious place to wipe her damp fingers.

  “Here.” He took her hand and slid it down the front of his shirt, letting her feel his flat, masculine breasts and the whipcord strength in him. “Now I’ll be able to smell you.” He lifted the shirt and ducked his nose to the faint streak, inhaling deeply.

  Arianne’s insides quivered.

  “Now look,” he said, lining up the latest three shots.

  Her vision blurred. She wanted to touch him again, not just herself.

  “I like this,” he said, tracing the silhouette of her exposed nipple against the white of the sheer curtains. “And look, the lipstick doesn’t stain your teeth.”

  Jason hate
d seeing lipstick on a woman’s teeth, she recalled vaguely, but the thought didn’t progress. Her mind was too busy exploding at the full frontal. No matter how she’d tried not to, she’d been touching herself and it was obvious. There she was, caught masturbating. Her worst nightmare.

  “This is very sexy, don’t you think?” The tip of his finger, encased in black leather, touched where her hand ground between her thighs.

  “You think so?” she asked, astounded.

  “Of course. It makes me want to do it, too.” He lowered his hand to the laces knotted so tightly across his sizeable bulge. With the heel of his hand, he pressed the length, gripped briefly in a motion that made the leather of his glove creak.

  Saliva gathered in her mouth and Arianne had to swallow. She wanted to do that. Touch and feel and see.

  “Come. Let’s have some fun with this one.” He took her wicked, fragrant fingers and tugged her toward the end of the bed.

  One knee went on the mattress at the corner, the other leg remained braced on the floor so the round bedpost rose high between her thighs. Arianne was unbalanced enough that she had to hold tight to the carved wooden curves and couldn’t stop Dominic when he tugged her skirt up, exposing her backside but allowing her to hide her sex against the post. She had covered her nipple again, but he revealed it.

  “Now ride the post, darling.” He pressed low in her back, encouraging her to arch. “Act like you want to fuck it.”

  She did. Letting her hair fall back and tickle her shoulders, she felt the hard shape of a rounded bead nudge at her slick, hungry mound. She couldn’t resist pressing until her own lubrication allowed the cool, smooth wood to part her lips and expose the sensitive knot at the top of her slit. Her internal walls begged for penetration but all she had was the smooth ball shape that spread her wide and stimulated her clit as she humped herself against it. She wished this were Dominic’s hard shape she was rubbing against, the thick ball at the end of his penis.

  “We are having fun, aren’t we?” Dominic said, jerking her back to him, the hotel room and the abandoned way she was acting.

  “I’m sorry!” She stumbled to her feet and jerked the skirt into place.