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

by Dani Collins

He brought the asparagus to her parted lips, startling her.

  “Let the tip sit on your tongue. Absorb the flavor,” he commanded in a tone that was…she didn’t know what he was trying to convey. He wasn’t coaxing. That would imply doubt in her following his order. No, it was more like he genuinely wanted her to enjoy the experience.

  She didn’t understand her desire to obey when the rebellious Violet was overtaking her soul, but she opened her mouth and closed her lips over the round spear, lightly sucking the feathered tip. Tangy juice flowed into the back of her throat.

  Porter licked his finger and thumb then took the naked shrimp to his mouth and ran the tip of his tongue along the buttery groove.

  An intensely wicked shock of excitement dove deep into her sex. Involuntarily, she drew in more of the asparagus. The slippery shaft tantalized her inner lips as it slid in, filling her mouth as she bit down to take it. She licked the creamy sauce off her lips.

  He didn’t stop staring at her mouth and his intense focus made swallowing difficult, especially when he abruptly consumed the shrimp and again licked his finger and thumb.

  “Did you ask for training?”

  Training. Submissive. Her belly rolled in confused dismay. “No.”

  “But you could use it. A good sub would say, ‘No, Sir.’ Why are you here then, if you didn’t request it? Your Master ordered it after the bad behavior Eloisa mentioned?”

  The reasons tumbled through her mind: her stepfather wanted to sell her. She wanted to escape. Eloisa wanted to exact revenge on both her and Porter. Rather than be specific, she offered the underlying truth behind all of those things. “I wasn’t given a choice.”

  “You still had one.”

  He and Eloisa sure knew everything, didn’t they?

  “Did you just dismiss what I said?” He paused in bringing a second spear of asparagus to her mouth. “I saw that little twitch through your expression. That’s what a good Dom does. Reads his sub for cues. And corrects her when she needs it.”

  I’m not a sub, she wanted to spit, but only opened her mouth to wait patiently for him to place the asparagus on her tongue. Ire made her revert to Ann’s behavior. Do as you’re told. Hate in private.

  “Look at me,” he commanded.

  She didn’t want to, but his tone made her lift her lashes. Her heart stopped. His pupils were vast, expanding like a black hole that wanted to swallow her up.

  “Defiance,” he confirmed, narrowing his eyes with keen insight and a flare of something that made her stomach bottom out in a startlingly sexual, quivery response. “If you don’t want to be here, and accept training, you can choose to leave both him and this kind of life.”

  Bizarrely, the fact that he said those words kept her pinned to her chair, desperate to hear more about what he believed she could do.

  He set aside the asparagus. His expression grew very serious.

  “My guess is you’re new at this and he’s never trained before.” He wiped his fingers on a napkin, something in the gesture disdainful. “I can see you have a certain natural passivity. That’s why he singled you out. From your side, you see that giving up choice frees you of responsibility. There’s no guilt in feeling pleasure if it’s born from a command to provide it for another, right? You become more of an object that doesn’t have to worry about the messier side of being human.”

  That took her aback. She already felt like an object. She hated it. She wouldn’t choose to be more of one.

  Porter shook his head at her withdrawal. “You were showing such good discipline. I’m jealous of this man you belong to, you know.” He studied her lazily.

  Her body reacted. Latent tingles of arousal expanded under his visual inspection. Her shoulder blades pinched together to push out her breasts a fraction. Her buttocks tightened.

  “I’d steal you from him if I could,” he continued, arm hooking over the back of his chair while he continued to inventory her from hairline to naked knees, his gaze like a possessive caress. “But I can’t take on the responsibility of a sub right now.”

  She snorted. It was more a choke of disbelieving laughter. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets as she processed why.

  “You don’t think I could make you mine?” he asked, tone lowering to a deadly level.

  “No, I—” Her fingers curled into her palms. “I mean, yes, I’m sure—” Shut up, Ann’s voice cried. Had she just assured him he could have her? “I was thinking of the other part,” she managed through an arid throat. “That you don’t have time because you’re getting married.” She fought the hysterical laughter churning behind the tight muscles of her abdomen.

  “That’s a business thing,” he said flatly, one hand waving away the detail as inconsequential. Like Ann was inconsequential.

  A grim thought seemed to hold him for a long moment before he added, “But if I had time for you, if I could take you, you would want me to, wouldn’t you?”

  Steal her? Rescue her, perhaps, but where did that thought even come from? She barely knew him. She wanted to trust him, but didn’t know if she could. He didn’t even know they’d met before tonight, that they were engaged. She shook her head, but it was a signal of supreme confusion.

  “No?” His tone froze her to the bone.

  “I don’t know,” she stammered, finding it wasn’t just an appeasement. She really didn’t know. She wondered if he was right about choices. When she considered the world of options in front of her, the consequences of running away to take care of herself were terrifying. Fear was making her hesitate and settle for the devil she knew. She was letting life happen to her, rather than taking control of her own. Eloisa hadn’t needed to tell her to change. She knew she had to.

  But she was afraid.

  That’s why she needed to become Violet.

  “It occurs to me that the decision you’re making is not whether you want to be a submissive, but whether you want to be with your Dom. Those relationships are as fragile as any other. If you’re not having your needs met, then defiance is the natural outcome. Stop shaking your head.”

  She hadn’t realized she’d been silently contradicting him, but stilled immediately.

  He made a noise of satisfaction. “You respond to me so beautifully, Violet. Do you want me to prove that you’re already gravitating toward me over him?”

  There was only him, but his certainty that she had another man in her life seemed to afford her some protection. She needed that right now when he seemed determined to overwhelm her—and was succeeding.

  “I’m going to tell you what I would do to you right now, if you belonged to me. That picture will stay in your head all night. Later, when you’re coming—and whether he allows you to orgasm or not, you’ll do it. For me. Because you know it will please me. Later tonight you’ll picture yourself with your elbows on that stool, your ass right here.” He pointed to the space two inches in front of where his crotch had an intriguing ridge behind the fly of his black pants.

  His hard penis. Ready for sex. She couldn’t breathe as she realized that he was hard for her.

  “You’ll imagine me sliding my hands up your thighs, baring your ass and toeing your shoes wide enough to open your legs. Then I’ll slide down my fly.” He smoothed the tips of three fingers along the long thick shape behind his zipper. “And you’ll be so wet and hungry for my cock, your pussy muscles tighten like this around me.” He fisted his hand. “Whatever is inside you tonight, even if it’s your own fingers, you’ll be wishing it was me.”

  Twin sensations accosted her. The pearly nub she liked to circle and stroke at night detonated with a sharp sensation, like she’d hit a peak, spreading a flush of excitement like lava up her abdomen, down her inner thighs and making her buttocks sting.

  At the same time, pain lanced the inside of her bottom lip, followed with the rusty taste of blood. Startled, she brought her fingertips to her mouth, blinking the well of tears from her eyes.

  “Did you just bite yourself? Let me see,” he ordere
d. “God, we’re a potent mix.”

  She hesitated and he brushed aside her hand to hook a strong finger under her chin, forcing her to face him. His touch sent a sluice of pleasant heat down her throat as he peeled her bottom lip down with his thumb.

  He eyed the injury before he dipped a finger into his drink and brought it back to rub cold alcohol over the cut.

  A tiny sound escaped her, as much a whimper of reaction as discomfort at the sting.

  “So responsive.” He continued to massage his thick fingertip against her sensitive membranes even after the taste of alcohol had dissipated.

  She fought the crazy urge to suck on his finger, but her nipples felt like shards of glass they grew so tight and sharp.

  “Eloisa is right about you being a treasure, Violet. You don’t hang a Monet in the waiting room of a dentist’s office. It needs to be appreciated, and so do you.”

  His words struck a surprisingly painful pang into her chest. She drew back, withdrawing as she dealt with the longing he’d provoked. She ached, yearned to be appreciated. Was that liable to come about here, with him thinking she was something she wasn’t?

  Maybe she was submissive at heart.

  The thought made frustrated tears rise to her eyes.

  “That bite must be deeper than I realized if the scotch is making you tear up. It was an excuse to touch you,” Porter said gruffly. “Not meant as a punishment.”

  “Chèrie, immédiatement,” Eloisa said, arriving near breathless to motion Ann to her feet. “You must go now.”

  Porter swung his gaze like a scythe. The look on his face made Eloisa stiffen, but she only lifted a haughty chin and said, “I did warn you.”

  Ann’s legs didn’t want to hold her, but the urgency in Eloisa’s manner alarmed her. Cain must have realized she was out of the house.

  Porter didn’t move, keeping her trapped in the tiny space where she’d slid to her feet. That weakened her knees, along with her resolve. “Please,” she begged. “I don’t want to get in trouble.”

  That made him turn his piercing look back on her. “Defy him,” he commanded.

  “I can’t,” she breathed, surprised by the depth of regret that blanketed her voice.

  They held a lengthy stare of wills, something she didn’t know she was capable of, but even though the basis of her defiance was fear of Cain, it felt oddly satisfying when his stiff posture broke first.

  Except he wasn’t giving in. He scooped an arm around her and pulled her into his crotch. Her breasts mashed against the hard plain of his chest and he covered her mouth with hard lips.

  She was so startled, she let it happen, kind of paralyzed by an electrical shock that jolted through her then held her in its grip. The pressure of his mouth parted hers and his tongue swept through, punching another jolt of excitement into her abdomen. She didn’t know how to react, but she liked the feel of his mouth working over hers, claiming and exploring, tongue dipping and sweeping hers into play. Was she supposed to caress his with her own? She couldn’t help it. The texture and novelty was too intriguing. Of their own accord, her lips followed his lead, parting wider in unreserved offering.

  Eloisa pulled out the opposite two chairs and yanked the table in a jarring scrape.

  Porter lifted his head and glared at the woman. Ann shakily pivoted out of his hold and sidled closer to Eloisa, heart hammering in reaction. And apprehension. The two looked like they wanted to rend each other apart.

  With a biting grip on her arm, Eloisa tugged Ann along with her.

  Walking away from Porter was like stepping from the desert sunshine into the frosty, air-conditioned interior of a glass building. She could still see him over her shoulder, knew she was safe from the blistering heat, but the white-hot glare would be waiting.

  As they strode down a narrow hallway a moment later, Eloisa said tightly, “You didn’t tell him who you are.”

  “No.” Of course not. Otherwise he would have known who she was being rushed home to.

  “Don’t,” Eloisa commanded. “Cosette forgot her mobile at the house.” Her significant look said it had been a deliberate ruse. “She’s been visiting with your stepfather, explaining the need to continue the spa treatments. He’s only asked for you once, but he’s quite drunk and she thinks it best if you return promptly so he’ll be less suspicious when you come back here tomorrow.”

  “I—”

  “You will return.” Eloisa overrode her protest before it formed, puzzling Ann.

  “Why?” she managed to burst out. Eloisa was obviously upset about the kiss. “I’m sorry I watched you the other night, but aren’t we even now? You don’t want me to marry him, and I don’t want to.” A funny quaver went through her, like she’d told a lie. “I’ll just leave….” The shapeless void opened before her, the one she knew she needed to step into, but feared because it was so empty and unknown.

  “Eventually yes, you will break it off. I’ll even help you, when the time comes, but for now let’s give him a taste of wanting without being able to have.”

  Ann stared at Eloisa’s grim smile, not prepared to be her instrument, but snagged by her promise of help.

  “Do as you’re told, Ann,” Eloisa urged with a firm hand on Ann’s tender shoulder.

  * * *

  Petting the kinky hairs between her legs that night, Ann stared at her dark bedroom ceiling and tried not to think about Porter. She didn’t want to obey him. Everything he and Eloisa had said about choice today whirled through her mind, confusing more than clarifying. Eloisa thought Ann could somehow trick or control him yet here she was, verging on the opposite: doing exactly as he’d ordered her to do.

  She had looked up Dominants and submissives as soon as she had returned to the mansion. The darkness of that world made her pull both hands into her chest and roll onto her side. Longing stayed as an ache between her legs, but a different kind entered her heart. Was that what Porter wanted in a wife? A submissive? He was so assertive she couldn’t imagine being any other way, not as his wife or as his lover.

  His lover.

  Here, in private, without consequence, she ought to be able to defy him. He would never know either way, but the image he’d painted in her mind was too tangible. Her hand drifted to cup her breast. The warm weight was topped by a distended nipple, so taut it barely moved under the friction of her flat fingers strumming against it. When she began to play with it, tight sensations pulled in her abdomen, sending trickles of delight between her legs.

  With a groan of both surrender and dismay, she stole a path with her other hand down to her hip. She imagined a wider, stronger hand, one that was bracing and possessive, setting itself flat against her skin. It splayed on her thigh and climbed inexorably until the hem of her short nightgown lifted, baring her to the waist. Grip digging into flesh, she imagined him turning her, positioning her as he’d said, elbows on the seat of the stool.

  The height of her shoes would make her bottom lift high into the air. He had talked about her wanting to be objectified. She would never want to be stripped in public and used, but here, alone in her bed, the fantasy was exciting. She’d never had such a dirty image fill her mind when she rubbed herself. Sometimes she had glimpsed a nice-looking man in public, but he’d always been a stranger. She’d never mentally brought any of them to bed.

  Tonight she had Porter. And words. Filthy words. Cock. Pussy.

  Hating herself for being unable to resist, she rolled onto her stomach and pushed the blankets off. She wanted the sensation of being exposed. The door was locked. Fonzo slept in his chair. No one would ever know she’d done this, but she wanted the sensations to be as strong as possible.

  Gripping the sheet beneath her, she imagined it was edge of the hard wooden chair. Her breasts flattened to the seat.

  He would make her wait for his touch. He had all the control, she acknowledged, listening for the lowering of his zipper. His hand, when he finally ran it over the curve of her ass, tickling lightly, was hot. He reached lo
wer, but didn’t touch where blood pounded like a pulse point. No, he only forced her legs a little wider.

  And stared.

  She was unable to hide or prevent how wet her pussy became. He teased her, waking up her swollen outer lips with a soft touch from behind, lightly rubbing the smooth, slick spot between her anus and her wet cavity.

  He ignored her button. One finger entered from behind so easily she barely felt it. He removed it and replaced it with another before tucking both wet digits into her.

  They were a tight fit that did indeed make her pussy muscles twist in ecstasy. She gasped, paralyzed with need to stay very still for him.

  Her nub begged with electric pulses for stroking. Sucking in her lip where the metallic taste of blood still lingered, she sensed he wouldn’t let this be over quickly. He removed his fingers and began working his cock into her. Deeper and still a little more.

  She arched her back, lifting her ass, instinctively wanting him as deep inside her as possible. “Fuck me, Porter,” she begged in a whisper. “Please fuck me.”

  He was a strong man. His weight rocked her on her feet as he began to move, withdrawing and sliding in again, wide hands gripping her hips to hold her steady. The movement shifted her on the stool, stimulating her nipples with burning friction. Her thighs were struck by his with each implacable thrust, his cock working her tight channel without pity. It was rough, but so good. Liquid heat trickled down the insides of her thighs and she tightened all her muscles, offering herself as she bore down on his cock, gritting her teeth….

  Unable to bear the tension, she pushed her free hand to her center. Her pussy was streaming with juice, her lips stretched open by her spread legs. The second she touched the engorged knot of nerves, climax struck. She rocked and rubbed as sensation exploded in a hot rush, spreading a blanket of stinging pleasure down her thighs, into her ass cheeks and up to prickle her breasts.

  As she writhed to keep the sensations going, she realized she was moaning into the mattress, control shattered by the intensity of her orgasm.

  Still twitching and pulsing, she withdrew her hand from her pocket and rolled onto her side. There she lay, blankets askew, legs still open, pussy sore from how hard she’d abused it. But oh, she felt so good.