Snow & Her Huntsman

by Sydney St. Claire

  Hunter shifted one hand to the back of her head and swallowed her cry of release. He eased his finger into her. Her pussy gripped him, consumed him with each pulsating spasm, each wave of desire as her body jerked over and over. Using his thumb, he drew out her orgasm, refusing to settle for less than all. When she slumped in his arms, he drew her close, his lips soothing, his mouth soft and loving.

  Rylee couldn’t believe what she’d done. She’d totally lost control, something she’d never done with another man but Hunter. Sex between her and her husband had never come close to the heat level between her and Hunter. Her hands dropped from his shoulders to his chest. Palms flat, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to push him away or bunch her fingers in his shirt and draw him even closer. God, what must he think of her? One kiss, and she’d gone up in flames, like a desperate and hungry woman.

  Which was true. But to show it and behave in such a manner horrified her. “I…” She didn’t know what to say.

  Hunter stepped away, she assumed to give her time to adjust her clothing. He picked up the invitation from the gray carpet. “My limo will pick you up at two on Thursday.”

  “Thursday?” Damn, her mind and body felt as though she were swimming through a thick gel.

  Handing her the invite, along with a large envelope he snagged off his desk, he held her gaze. “I’ll see you at Pleasure Manor. Your costumes will be delivered to your office this afternoon.”

  He tapped the envelope. “Instructions and rules. I suggest you go get your bloodwork done this afternoon. You’ll need to bring the results with you.” Hunter handed her the briefcase and her purse and hustled her to the door.

  Rylee blinked in confusion. Damn the man for being in complete control while she was a quivering mass of need. Her orgasm hadn’t eased her ache for this man. She yearned to have his cock plunging inside her, and she needed more of those explosive orgasms he’d been so good at giving her.

  But she hated being manipulated, and he was a master. He’d lured her in with hopes and dreams of saving her business and probably used Glorie to make her mad enough that she’d confront him. Now, he’d had the nerve to use her own body against her. “Dammit, Hunter, I never said—”

  Hunter halted her with the single lift of his brow. “Your body spoke for you.” He lowered his head and kissed her hard, swallowing her protests. “Thursday. And don’t bother wearing panties.”

  Chapter Three

  Rylee studied the richly appointed room through her silky, golden mask. Everything sparkled or glittered. What did one call a room in a mansion filled with antiques, gilt-framed pictures, and a gleaming baby grand in the corner? A formal parlor maybe? The room wasn’t big enough to be considered a ballroom, not to mention there was too much furniture. Couches and chairs lined the walls, leaving the middle of the room with enough space for the gathering group of men and woman eager for a weekend of role-play.

  Tall windows towered over the crowd along one side of the room, and French doors were open to allow a cool breath of air to enter. She took a sip of champagne. Soft strains of music provided a backdrop as participants entered, one or two at a time. Staring at the other guests, Rylee felt as though she’d gone back in time. Or at least through Alice’s looking glass.

  To her left, two women chatted. One wore a red cloak; the other wore a dress that looked as though it had been sewn from rags. Red Riding Hood and Cinderella? To her right, a brown-haired woman in a simple blue dress. Beauty looking for her beast? Beside her, a woman with blonde hair past her waist sipped her champagne. Had to be Rapunzel. There were more women grouped together toward the other end of the room, chatting softly and eyeing the offerings.

  Across from Rylee, men lined up one by one as they entered the room. Each man wore a mask. After he’d asked for her envelope, the butler—the butler, for god’s sake—had said masks were required when everyone gathered as a group. Handing over her blood results had embarrassed her a bit but not as much as the thought of agreeing to attend a fairytale event.

  A Fairytale BDSM event.

  What the hell are you doing here? “You’re here for your company,” she reminded herself. Sacrifices had to be made. She nearly burst into hysterical laughter. Sacrifice hell! Ten minutes alone with Hunter, and she’d practically thrown herself at the man like a cat in heat escaping out the front door.

  She pressed a hand to her jittery stomach. She felt as though someone had set off a hundred bouncing super balls inside her. “Relax. It’s only a weekend.”

  Only a weekend. Oh, my god. She hadn’t been able to stop thinking about that college weekend. Her face flamed. She’d never had as strong a reaction to a man before or after him, and here she was, ready—no, eager—for whatever he might demand. Her body throbbed in anticipation, and dammit, did she have to follow his orders blindly?

  No panties.

  Damn, she was wet and had been ever since the limo arrived. During the long drive, she’d struggled not to think of sex with Hunter. Instead, she’d tried to focus on saving her business, keeping control in her hands. What if she failed? Could she put aside her own needs and protect her employees?

  To calm her nerves and put her worries and fears from her mind, she focused on the men and, wow, what a line-up. Several wore velveteen tunics and pants that made them look regal enough to be a fairytale princess’s prince, but her partner was not a prince. He was a huntsman. Her gaze swept over the rest of the men wearing leather vests, harnesses, and G-string thongs that didn’t hide much. One man wore a full mask that gave him a very wolfish appearance. Holy mother of god! His tight, one-piece costume clung to every muscle of his very magnificent body like a second skin.

  A flush crept up her neck and into her face when she lowered her gaze. No crotch. Just a black penis glove that did nothing to hide the size of his dick, which she had to admit, was huge in its natural state. He even wore black gloves.

  He stared intently at the woman across from him, his glittering blue eyes dangerous. If Rylee were a betting woman, she’d say his partner for the weekend was the small, dark-haired woman in the red cloak. She grinned. Red Riding Hood and the big, bad wolf?

  Rylee studied the other men but didn’t see Hunter. She sighed again, desire creeping into her blood. “Wow!”

  Beside her, Cinderella nodded. “If lust could be bottled, this room would be worth a fortune.”

  Rylee figured Cinderella had it right. Another woman entered. She wore a sleeveless blue dress with a white blouse beneath and a white apron. The skirt was nearly crotch-short in front and dipped down to her calves in the back. Her dark brown hair hung past her shoulders. Belle from Beauty and the Beast? It was rather fun to speculate. The woman glanced at Rylee, and they smiled at one another. She joined Rylee.

  “Nice offerings,” she commented, her gaze roaming over the men across from them.

  “I’ll say.” Where was Hunter?

  The door opened, and two more women bounced in. Eyeing the staff’s they carried, Rylee figured them for Mary and Bo Peep. Chuckling, she eyed the three men on their hands and knees. The men wore leather collars and furry hats that covered their eyes—and little else.

  Bo whirled around, let out a peal of delighted laughter, and ran across the room. Rylee rolled her eyes. Bo’s skirt angled upward, leaving her very nice backside bare. Her red thong matched her skirt. She rolled her eyes when the women claimed their men and led them to the far end of the room.

  “Ah, Little Bo Beep found her sheep.” Red giggled.

  Cinderella squeaked out, “Lucy!” She was eying Bo’s practically bare behind.

  Amused, Rylee shook her head. Cinderella was obviously vanilla. Not that Rylee herself had much experience. That one weekend with Hunter was the extent of her experience in the BDSM world, but since the meeting in his office, she’d gone online and done her research.

  So where was he? Was this a joke? A trick? Worried that Hunter wasn’t going to show, Rylee decided to go find out. If he didn’t get her soon, she was
out of here.

  More participants entered. She had no interest in any of the men. There was only one man she wanted to see. If this was all some big joke, she’d make him pay.

  Hastings stepped into the room and drew her attention. “Queen Grimhilde.” A tall woman in black leather and lace entered.

  Glorie Amadori? Here? Oh, my god. Rylee nearly dropped her glass. Her startled gaze swept over the queen’s costume. The black corset snugged the woman’s more than ample breasts, leaving a generous amount of creamy flesh on display and revealed a narrow waist. The sheer skirt with red accents barely covered her crotch in front and trailed the floor behind her. Her toothpick thin heels were a loud staccato in the sudden silence. The woman’s mere presence was a command, a call to attention.

  She eyed the whip Glorie held. The woman was a Domme. Holy shit.

  If Henry could see his “Dragon Lady” now, he’d pee his pants. No matter her personal opinion of the queen bitch, Rylee had to admit the woman knew how to make an entrance. Anticipation hummed throughout the room.

  Four men, each impressive in size and stature followed the regal queen who glanced neither right nor left. Each man wore shiny black boots, a full mask, and a snug sling-style bodysuit that did nothing to hide their manly parts. Rylee did a mental eye roll. You’re not in one of your regency novels, girl. This weekend, it’s going to be cocks, tits, and asses, not penises, breasts or butts.

  Jerry had never talked dirty or used such crude language. She was definitely out of her element.

  Her gaze swept over the four men as they drew abreast, and then did a double take. Good god, there he was. Her lips parted as she drank in the sight of Hunter Finnegan, her huntsman, wearing a one-piece body sling that barely covered his cock. He strode past, and her mouth watered as she surveyed the G-string that revealed his nicely tanned, perfectly rounded butt. He had a most magnificent ass, one that begged to be fondled, and for the next few days, it belonged to her. She squeezed her legs together. Her juices were definitely flowing.

  The snap of a whip drew her attention back to Glorie, who stood surrounded by Hunter and the other three men. Rylee eyed the woman’s five-inch heels with envy, wishing she had the grace to wear fuck-me shoes like those.

  At the head of the room, Glorie took the time to meet each and every person’s gaze. Rylee swallowed hard when the woman’s eyes held hers, humor dancing deep within. Glorie was the only person in the room not wearing a mask. “Good afternoon, my lovely subjects. I’m Queen Grimhilde, Snow White’s evil step-mother, and as I survey all of you gathered in this room, I declare that I am still the fairest in all the land.”

  Rylee chuckled, and if her laugh was a tad nervous, well, holy mother of Jesus. Glorie was the last person she’d expected to see here.

  The whip snapped again, making her jump. “Your host, as usual, is otherwise engaged but has made available his castle and grounds. Most of you know the rules. Those who are new, your partner will explain what you need to know. You will be called forth and paired with your weekend partner. We’ll meet in the ballroom Saturday evening for the ball. Until then, remember—safe, sane, and consensual.”

  She began calling couples and sending them on her way. Bo Peep wasted no time shooing her sheep out the door at the back of the room. Mary took her time, sauntering with her lamb following meekly.

  With half the room yet to go, Glorie beckoned her forward. “Snow White, a word.”

  Startled by the hostility in the Domme’s voice, the glittering dark eyes, and the woman’s stiff posture, Rylee hesitantly stepped forward.

  Glorie trailed the end of the whip between Rylee’s breasts and tapped lightly. “You, my spoiled step-daughter have been very naughty. I’m afraid there’ll be no pleasure for you. Instead, you’ll go with one of my huntsman into the woods. I don’t expect I’ll see you ever again.” She gave an evil smile then beckoned to Hunter.

  “Take her away!” Her voice boomed throughout the parlor.

  Spellbound, Rylee wondered if the woman was playacting. Shit, she was the one who was going pee her panties, except she had no panties. Damn, too bad she couldn’t tell Henry about this. She’d signed a non-disclosure form.

  What happened at the castle stayed at the castle.

  Her huntsman bowed. “Yes, My Queen.” Then he glanced at Rylee. “Follow me, Snow.” Hunter strode out the door at the back of the room and out into the gardens.

  Hurrying after him, she waited until they were well out of earshot of anyone lurking nearby. “You might have warned me she was going to be here. That is one scary woman. She sounds like she hates me? So where are we going? We’re really not going into the forest are we?”

  Hunter stopped near a gate and turned. “No speaking.”

  “Huh?”

  He tipped her chin up. “The games have started, Snow. Other than when we are in negotiations or until you leave on Sunday, you are my sub, and as such, you will do as I say, when I say. At the moment, you will speak only when I give permission.”

  Rylee’s jaw dropped. “I’m your sub for sex. I agreed to let you spank me or tie me up.” If he thought he could order her around otherwise, he had another think coming. “We’re not having sex right now, so why should I act all submissive?”

  Images of her naked, bound, and helpless while he had his way with her shot through her mind and sent bolts of desire crashing into her core. She flushed.

  He lifted a brow and ran a finger over her heated cheeks. “Because you are submissive by nature.”

  “I have a mind of my own and a brain. I’m not a doormat, Hunter.”

  “No, you’re not, but your body wants what I can give it, and that means doing what I say. You’re free to think and voice your opinions during our negotiations, but otherwise, you are mine for the weekend. Your job is to feel and enjoy.”

  “And that means not talking?”

  “Not talking means you’re anticipating, Rylee. Not talking means your body is listening to mine.” His arms swooped around her, drawing her hard against his chest. “Not talking means you’re ready for this.”

  Hunter kissed her hard and deep, no sweet licks, gentle nibbles, or teasing. His tongue plunged in and took control. His fingers threaded trails into her hair, gripping the silky soft strands, holding her head immobile as he plundered, nipped, and laved. He drew her tongue into his mouth and sucked until she moaned.

  Her fingers gripped the straps of his body sling. Her knees trembled as need flared from her center. Her body tingled from her toes to her scalp. His other hand cupped her ass, dug in as he yanked her hard against his rock-hard cock.

  He lifted his head. “I could fuck you right here, and you’d beg me to take you.”

  She gasped. “No—”

  He whipped her around, one arm around her waist, the other edging beneath her skirt. His foot widened her stance. “Yes. If I ordered you onto your hands and knees, you’d do it. If I bent you over right now and shoved my cock into you, you’d scream with pleasure.”

  Her chest rose and fell. She moaned, even as she shook her head in denial.

  Hunter bit the hollow of her shoulder, then licked the sting, breathing in sunshine, roses, and the sharp tang of lust. “I’m going to bury my finger inside your pussy. Am I going to find you hot and wet?”

  She whimpered, her body molding to his, giving him the answer he needed, but he’d hear it from her. “Answer me. Are you wet and hot for what I can and will give you?”

  “Yes.”

  Brushing his palm against her bare ass, he smiled. “No panties. Very good.” He eased one finger into her sheath and felt his own knees weaken. God, she was wet, hot, and throbbing. “Tell me you want me.”

  Her head lolled against his shoulder in surrender. “I want you to fuck me.”

  “And you’d let me have you right now if I wanted.

  “Yes.”

  Hunter withdrew his hands and stepped back. If he didn’t, he would fuck her right where they stood. Instead, he watched
as she struggled to regain control. Her eyes were bright with desire and confusion as she stared at him.

  God, he wanted her to the point of pain—and not just physically. He’d waited so long for her, hadn’t believed he’d ever be given a second chance. Now that she was free, he had to find a way to convince her to give him—them—a second chance, “You have a choice, Rylee. Obey starting now, or I’ll send for a car to take you home.”

  Damn. The man’s voice dropped so low it nearly rumbled. Moisture leaked from her pussy, wetting her inner thighs. No way was she leaving now, and she wasn’t thinking of her company or the necessity to negotiate. She wanted this man, and she’d do whatever he wanted.

  “Yes, Sir,” she said meekly.

  “Be sure, Rylee. I’ll take you when I want, where I want, and how I want.”

  “I’m sure. Sir.” Part of her disliked adding the word sir, but she knew it was expected. It was part of the role-playing game, and she’d agreed to be his sub. For the weekend. And for the moment, it was all she’d admit to.

  He gripped her chin. “Much better. You’ve earned a spanking for your defiance. Two smacks now. Three later. When I decide.”

  “Now?” Her hand clapped over her mouth as her gaze swept the gardens. It was daylight. There wasn’t anyone around, but still.

  “Three now, four later.”

  Rylee started to protest then thought better of it.

  “You’re learning.” He glanced around, spotted a cement bench near a pretty flowerbed full of pinks, blues, and greens. He pointed. “That will do.”

  Biting her lower lip, Rylee took the path, fully aware of the man following so close the heat rolled off his bare chest and enveloped her. He sat. And waited.

  Sighing, she draped herself over his thighs. Good thing no one at her company could see her. She wiggled when his palms caressed her ass. She wanted to tell him to get it over with but wasn’t going to up the spank count.