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

by Dani Collins

  Pulling his money clip from his pants pocket, he began counting off bills.

  “If it feels anything like when I come, I think they’d be grateful,” she said.

  He snorted and added an extra bill. “Okay, that was funny. We’ll make it an even thousand, but shut up now. And get up.”

  She yarded on her bound wrists and gave him a look.

  He tossed the thousand dollars on the bed that was scattered with money and unclipped her wrists. “Sit up,” he said.

  She did, facing him as he came around to the side of the bed.

  Pushing her feet out of the way to make room for himself, he sprawled across the wrinkled black sheet. Rolling onto his back, he pointed to his swollen cock. “Get on.”

  Oooh. She bit back a tart Don’t you mean “get off”? This manifestation of Jason was a little too dangerous to flirt with, however.

  Unfamiliar with the position, Arianne threw a leg over him and used her cuffed wrists to guide his stiff size into her recently anointed lips. She’d come like a screaming banshee, true, but it had been a clit orgasm, all from outside stimulation. She sighed in absolute rapture as his very memorable size pushed a determined path through the aching depths of her vagina.

  Staring at his chest—she paused to assure herself she knew those nipples and the fine hair that gathered around them—she dug her painted nails into his hard muscles, punishing a little for all that spanking but bracing herself, too, as she experimented, finding the rhythm.

  He rose to meet her so she rode him like a stallion, their movements not urgent, but steady, and just rough enough to be exciting. And even though she was ready long before he was, he let her come.

  He didn’t, however, let her rest. Even as she collapsed on him, he was saying, “Off. Up.” Guiding her hands to the headboard, he asked, “Hang on until I tell you.”

  She let her gripping hands make the promise.

  He nodded and moved behind her, thrusting his raging cock into her still-wet passage, making her cry out because she was sensitive from her recent orgasm.

  Driving with steady strokes, he took her from repletion to a twitching hunger in a matter of minutes. When she started to respond by meeting his thrusts, he slid a hand around and pressed two fingers over her clit.

  She moaned again, and he said, “Shut up,” but pressed harder, scrubbing his fingertips over the swollen bud so her pussy tightened of its own accord and a sudden climax thundered through her.

  It was all Arianne could to do hang on to the headboard as she panted and heaved between her own reaching arms, shaking and sweating from physical exertion.

  Somehow he got hold of the chain that dangled from her choker. Drawing it over her head, he used it like reins, tugging her backward. “Let go,” he said, steadying her with his forearm wrapped beneath her arms.

  His cock stayed firmly lodged inside her as she came back into his lap, her knees open over his.

  “Give me your hands,” he said, and looped the cuffs behind his own neck so her tits arched up to his cupping hands. From there he stroked and fondled her front while his thick length continued to throb with deep power inside her, warning her there would be no rest for a wicked, hungry cunt like hers.

  As he toyed and tugged at her nipples, she began to wriggle in discomfort, both because the position was awkward and because her pussy began to need more than mere penetration.

  He made a stern noise and pressed her deeper onto him, keeping her still while his fingers explored where her naked, wet lips opened over his hard girth. As he returned again and again to her clit, she tried to move on him. He jammed her into place and continued teasing and exploring. She lifted and he pinned, insistent.

  “Please,” she begged, and he bit her nape while he plucked her clit and made her convulse with orgasm and a ragged, lengthy moan.

  He let her fold forward onto her hands, and eased out of her then, only to relax backward so he lay beside her.

  “Up,” he said, pinching her hip where she had let herself sink onto the mattress next to him. His thick cock strained. How could he not have come yet? She was dying.

  Despite her exhaustion, she lifted. He slid beneath her, moving under her so his thick, wet cock, fragrant with her own scent, pressed against her cheek. Between her legs, his mouth opened on her relaxed lips, hot and unhurried.

  “I can’t,” she murmured even as she kissed his shaft, tasting.

  “Sixty-nine hundred dollars,” he said, turning his head to speak against her thigh, then opening his mouth on her in a hot soul kiss.

  She snorted, but opened her mouth on him, too, drawing the familiar shape of him into her mouth with a hum of homecoming. As she lazily sucked, he grew even fuller. His attentions on her nether lips became persistent. It felt good, but she wasn’t nearly so ready as the cock twitching in her mouth.

  “I really can’t,” she murmured, pausing to ever so lightly tease him with the scrape of her teeth.

  “Don’t make me spank you,” he said, his accent slipping. Two fingers delved.

  She protested with a little moan that was pleasure, too, and searched out a scrap of energy to suck harder. She had to make him come again before he killed her.

  But just as she began to think she had him, he rolled her off him. The loss of his lapping tongue was painful.

  “What? What’s wrong?” she asked with mild alarm. She’d begun to hunger for another orgasm and he was really close, she could tell.

  “Shut. Up.” He rolled her onto her back and pulled her hands over her head, binding her to the headboard.

  Opening her thighs, he knelt between them and hooked her legs over his arms, jerking her ass high for the entry of his turgid cock.

  “Augh,” she groaned as he took her.

  “Quiet,” he ordered, withdrawing until he was almost out, so her pussy had to cling hard to keep him, then with his own grunt of pleasure, he returned, thrusting deep.

  When she moaned this time, he covered her mouth with his and fucked her, sweaty and fast, deep and relentless. Unable to move, she could only let noises of pleasure escape her throat as he drove her to a crest that almost peaked then somehow eluded, driving her higher. Smothered by his lips, she moaned in exquisite frustration.

  He tilted her pelvis higher, ground himself into her at a sharper angle, elongating her pussy lips and finding that mysterious point that stirred her deepest response. As she stiffened beneath him, he grunted out a satisfied sound and kept her tight to that course, fucking with ruthless purpose.

  The sensations became intense, hitting her in rapid explosions of fierce power.

  She moaned a protest and bit his lip, trying to escape.

  He slammed into her, his prick refusing to let up, while sweat dripped off his pistoning form. Her whole body threatened to shatter. She was racked and bound and helpless to his unrelenting quest to pleasure her.

  Oh, God, she loved him.

  She broke with a scream. Wrenching sobs made her to struggle to break from his kiss so she could gasp for air.

  With a bite of his fingers into her hips and a keening shout of near pain, he came in a hot flood of heat. The pulses between them reflected back and forth, his, hers, she couldn’t tell. He spurted and she contracted. He thrust and she squeezed. He collapsed on her and she melted beneath him, bawling tears shuddering her breaths and soaking her cheeks.

  * * *

  Jason rolled off Arianne and eased her legs into a more comfortable position, then reached up to release her from the cuffs and tuck her bent arms between them. Cuddling her into his chest, he pulled the black sheet around her and rested his chin on her hair.

  He really didn’t like the tears. They scared him in a way he couldn’t face. Didn’t she understand? She was supposed to say the word, call a halt before it got this far. He wanted to cry, he was so upset at reading her wrong. He’d been convinced she was with him all the way, as ecstatic and elated by their game as he was. Deep down, he’d begun to hope he really could reveal him
self, that she was accepting of his kinky sex play.

  As he stroked and coddled her shuddering body with trembling hands, he tried to figure out how to get through this. Why had he put himself in this position, working so hard to convince her he was a stranger only to face the fact she might actually believe it and be crying because of it?

  Did she? He’d let his accent drift toward English enough times to tip her off that he was still Dominic. He hoped like hell that was the reason she’d opened up the way she had, giving him free rein over this piece of art she called a body. God, did she have any idea the gift she’d given him? He was awed by the trust she’d shown in him tonight. He wanted to reciprocate that, he really did.

  She quieted and relaxed heavily against him.

  He dipped his chin, trying to get a look into her eyes, hoping he’d glean some clue as to how to proceed.

  No luck. She’d passed out.

  * * *

  Arianne woke to find the cash stacked next to the clock. The note in Dominic’s handwriting read “Carlos wrote a check for sixty-nine hundred. Use this to buy yourself something nice on your cruise. He was extremely satisfied.”

  “Huh,” she breathed, recalling that she’d told Jason she wanted to meet Dominic so she would know how to satisfy a man in bed. Toss the grad cap in the air, she thought wryly, letting her pleasantly aching body fall back on the bed.

  After a few minutes of savoring all the ways he’d left her so deeply satisfied, she reached for the money and counted it.

  Elated, she wanted to phone Jason and tell him how she’d earned it—in vivid detail. She wanted to amuse her friend and arouse her lover. Masturbate with him, perhaps. Or invite him to join her here and reenact some of their fun.

  She damn well wanted him on that cruise with her.

  Tickling beneath her chin with the fan of bills, she considered how best to go about making such a wish come true.

  * * *

  When Jason saw Arianne’s number on his cell, he didn’t bother with a proper greeting, asking bluntly instead, “Are you all right?”

  “Of course,” she said breezily. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  Hell, he was sore and he’d seen the shadow of bruises on her legs and buttocks when he’d tucked her in last night.

  “I called your house. You weren’t home.” It was a lie. He’d stayed in the room next to her and driven himself crazy wondering if he’d pushed her too far. Shown her too much.

  “I’m home now. Packing.”

  “Right. The cruise.”

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “So…? Who are you taking?”

  “Well, you’re still out of town, aren’t you?”

  She hadn’t said Denver. The hairs all over his body stood up.

  Into his surprised silence, she interjected, “I left an envelope on your porch with all the details about the cruise. Would you see that Dominic gets it?”

  She knew. Of course she knew and she would continue playing this game as long as he let her. Everything in him deflated except for a small bubble of fragile hope, floating and floating and threatening to burst.

  He waited, wondering if she’d say something else, but realized this was one boundary he had to cross himself. Bracing his hand on the wall, he held the phone to his ear, throbbing all over with fear and longing.

  He could show up as Jason, pretend Dominic had refused and spend the cruise trying to console her. That might get them back to where they’d been, but that would never be good enough for either of them now.

  “What if he doesn’t show, Arianne?” he asked in a tone rasped by barely controlled emotion.

  “He has to. We never kissed goodbye.”

  Chapter Twelve

  Arianne watched the dock recede from her personal balcony. The crowd cheered and waved from the shore while the stateroom behind her remained silent and empty.

  She ducked out of the sunshine and salt-flavored air, into the shadowed interior. It was a beautiful suite, roomier than she had expected and softly scented by the freesias in the arrangement on the dresser. The bed was wide, its ocean-blue duvet unmarred. Her clothes, all new outfits purchased with Jason’s tastes in mind, hung in one half of the closet. The basket of goodies sent by her agency was already in disrepair after she had raided the chocolate and popped the champagne.

  She poured herself another glass as she contemplated the lonely weeks ahead of her. Neither Jason nor Dominic had shown. Shoot, she would have welcomed Carlos at this point, but apparently none of Jason’s manifestations had found the courage to face her. She would have to cruise alone, and while she no longer worried she couldn’t draw a man’s interest, there was only one man’s attention she really wished to catch and hold.

  His absence from her stateroom, despite the more or less engraved invitation she’d left on his doorstep, told her exactly what he did and didn’t want from her. She’d have to do exactly what she had sworn to him she’d do: go topside, not to find a stud, but at least make herself available enough that she could explore her options.

  She had half a mind to phone him right now and tell him that was exactly what she was going to do. Which was completely juvenile, but—

  A knock at the door halted her reaching for her phone. Crossing the carpeted room, she peeked through the peephole to see a man in black wearing a mask and gloves.

  Oh, my God.

  “Who is it?” she called in a voice that quavered.

  “Open the door, Arianne.” He braced himself on the frame and looked right into the peephole.

  “I don’t know who’s under there. Take off that thing you’re wearing.”

  He glared at her, motionless for several heartbeats. Then he bit the tip of his middle finger and peeled off one glove, then the other. Picking at his chin, he lifted the edge of his goatee, wincing as he removed it and finally lifted both hands behind his head to unknot his kerchief.

  When it hit the floor, he braced himself again. Jason wore Dominic’s clothes, and the auburn hair belonging to Carlos.

  “You said you didn’t want anything between us on this cruise, so remove this door.” He reached for the handle.

  She watched it turn, scared, only working up the nerve at the last second to reach out and click the lock so it would open.

  Jason pushed in, leaving his disguise on the floor outside.

  Arianne backed away, ridiculously scandalized by herself as every single wicked thing she and Dominic had done replayed in her mind with Jason watching her the entire time, his blue eyes knowing.

  His nostrils flared and his gaze slid down her, so possessive he stopped her heart. “You knew,” he accused. “All along.”

  She covered her mouth, surprised by how rapid her heart was racing, how exposed she felt. A fierce blush stung her cheeks, flushing her whole body in heat. He’d spanked her, controlled her, forced intimate, shocking pleasures on her.

  “I figured it out. I do know you pretty well, you know.”

  “And still invited me here despite that. Why? To kick me out? I’m claiming that goodbye kiss, you know.” He stalked her until she came up against the little dresser, the corner biting into her backside as he bracketed his hands outside her hips.

  He hesitated, his sultry breath curling over her lips, a threat, but not a real one. An invitation.

  Tilting her head, she opened her mouth in a damp kiss over his parted lips, rocking to find the right fit and sealing it with light suction.

  He groaned and increased the pressure, waiting for her tongue before he delved with his own, before he brought a hand to the back of her head and held her for the steady, encompassing loving of his mouth over hers. It was powerful, hungry and demanding, but so tender and cherishing, her eyes began to sting.

  She wore the red dress he’d first purchased for her, half expecting him to rip it from her body.

  He stroked over it with great care, his bare hands gently easing the stretchy neckline away to kiss her collarbone, revealing her shoulder, sliding it down t
o her elbow, lifting her arm free and bringing up her wrist to place a careful kiss in her palm, then brushing her fingertips over his eyebrows and lashes.

  Easing her fingers into his hair, she drew him to kiss her again while leaning on the dresser and opening her thighs in invitation. The bulge behind his laces beckoned and she lifted into it.

  He ignored her less-than-subtle invitations and stroked light fingers over her bared breast, down to her waist, over her hips. Then he freed her other arm from the dress. Bunching the bodice at her waist, he drew a soft hissing breath as he stared at her breasts then bent, and soft, nuzzling kisses graced their slopes. He lifted them with delicate care, one at a time, sucking with sweet tenderness until she moaned and brought her knee up to his hips, trying to draw him in.

  “Shh, not yet,” he said, and shed Dominic’s shirt, boots and leather breeches. When he was naked, he slid her dress down and off her hips. He carried her to the bed and lifted her foot, bracing her shoe on his stomach, removing and dropping it, then taking up the other.

  “Naked,” she murmured.

  “Completely,” he agreed and guided her legs open, settling over her, kissing her again while fondling and kissing her neck and breasts and stomach and inner thighs.

  “Jason,” she pleaded, trembling, and he rose above her, smiling.

  “That’s what I was waiting for,” he said against her lips, and reached to part her with the most male part of him, filling her with a luxurious, steady passion.

  She arched her head back, exposing her neck to his nibbling mouth, his unadorned chin, lifting her hips into his lazily thrusting pelvis.

  “It feels so good.” She blinked tear-damp lashes.

  “Don’t,” he choked out, cupping her face. “I can’t bear the tears, Arianne.”

  “But it’s so good,” she countered with deep emotion. “Can’t you feel how good it is?”

  He strained, his strokes slow but powerful, the culmination rising with subtle demand. She had steeped herself in sex for a week, but this, the very real sensation of Jason’s muscled body writhing on and in her own, was more moving and sexy than anything she had experienced thus far.