by Angel Payne
She used his face as her anchor. Borrowing the strength that defined every inch of his bold features, she compelled her knees to move outward. The motion caused her bruised ass to brush the couch’s smooth leather, radiating heat through every layer of her sex until it ignited even the deepest caverns of her womb. She took a huge breath as Zeke did. As he exhaled, his eyes slowly closed. His thumb pressed harder against her clit.
“That’s the best perfume you could ever wear for me.” He snaked his finger up to her lips and stroked his thumb along the ridge of her upper lip. “Smell that, subbie. Breathe in how beautiful your cunt is to me.” He followed the tangy line he’d painted with the tip of his tongue. “You’re so hot. So wet. Like a peach cream tart, thick with need for me.”
“Yes.” The end of the word was lost to a sigh as she stretched out her tongue to meet his. Her taste buds were filled with his rich, virile taste, mingled with the fruit of her most intimate essence. The flavors instantly made her ache to taste him in other ways, and she squirmed against her bonds again in an effort to break free so she could touch him, hold him, suck him.
That wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.
With an impatient snarl, Z grabbed her thighs, which had gone to aroused paralysis beneath his assault. With one vicious shove, he splayed her all the way open for him. In another sweep, he roped both hands around her buttocks and pulled. Her breasts slammed against the wall of his chest. Her crotch hit the enormous bulge in his. A gasp fell from her. A groan fell from Z. He cut both of them short by spearing his tongue inside her mouth, claiming her with primeval fury.
By the time he tore free from her mouth, he’d already grabbed a handful of her hair and yanked hard. Rayna’s shriek erupted into the thick, dark air of the room.
“Again.” He growled it before taking the column of her neck in an open, feral bite, making her cry out again. “Scream for me again, little bird. Higher. Louder.” He wrenched his mouth to the other side of her neck and dug his teeth in harder.
“Shhiiit!” Rayna yelled. “Oh, Zeke! Please!”
“What?” he snapped.
“Sir!” she revised. “Please. Oh God—this is—I need to—ahhhh!” He dissolved her into another high eruption by sinking his teeth into her shoulder.
“What?” His mouth was back at her throat, demanding it against her sweat-slick skin. “Tell me what you need, subbie.”
“I—I—set me free. Please. I need to touch you. To feel you.”
His hair scraped her neck as he shook his head. “Uh-uh. Not your job. Not right now.”
“But—”
“Let it go, Rayna.” His guttural command came with another harsh yank in her hair. Her face was now a vertical plane over which he loomed, cutting at her brows, her nose, and her cheeks with jabs of his teeth until he came to her lips again. “You are mine to touch right now,” he said against her mouth. “Your beauty is mine to worship. Your mind is mine to inhabit. Your body is mine to use.” He took her in a biting kiss before commanding, “Now tell me you understand.”
She drew in a stuttering breath. It was a perfect emulation of the tatters of her control. “I—I understand.”
Shadows moved across his face as the storm turned into a squall. Wind whipped at the windows. His gaze, darkening to russet, swept over her entire form. His lips parted to reveal his clenched teeth.
“Now beg me to take you.”
As thunder shook the world, desire burned up her veins. “Yes,” she whispered. “Take me, Sir.”
He slipped his hands from her head to the band of his shorts. “Beg me to fuck you.”
She swallowed. “Fuck me. Please.”
With a feral grunt, he pulled his cock free. It burned at her pussy in seconds, the hot, moist tip sliding into her tissues, seeking her welcoming entrance.
“Damn,” he gritted. He leaned back for a second to scoop a foil packet off the floor. Inside five seconds, he’d torn it open with his teeth. In another five, he slammed the condom over his full, thick shaft. Rayna couldn’t help staring at his hard glory. She dug an anticipating bite into her lip.
Zeke grunted. “You keep looking at me like that, bird, and I’m going to explode right here.”
She took a chance on a sultry grin. “I’m a naughty girl, remember? Isn’t this part of the job description?”
His dark brows ticked. “Making your Sir come in his condom instead of your sweet body?” He clawed all ten fingernails into the welts he’d left on her ass. “Oh, you do want a punishment, don’t you?”
She gasped as he used his grip to grind her clit up and down his hot, huge erection. She lost the ability to think, much less maintain the smirk. Her body clenched, teetering on a wire between sanity and sensation. His words now made sense. You’re already halfway over. She understood now, because she’d tumbled more than halfway. The beautiful, black abyss in her senses was now a pull she couldn’t fight. And didn’t want to.
“I only want what you do.”
His nostrils flared. His stare turned to impenetrable shadow. He pulled back his hips. When he rolled them back on a single lunge, he filled her vagina with his cock.
“This,” he rasped. “I want this. It’s all I’ve been thinking about for two days. All I’ve been craving since the moment my cock left you before.”
A fresh burst of tears pooled in her eyes. “Me, too,” she said. “Oh, yes…me, too.”
A look mixed of pain and joy creased his features. “You’re so beautiful,” he uttered. “So goddamn perfect…bound for me like this, open for me like this, taking every inch of my dick like this.”
“Yes,” Rayna whispered. “All of it, Sir. Please.”
He rammed his lips over hers again before ordering, “Beg me for it again. Plead with me to shatter you.”
“Yes,” Rayna responded. “Yes. Make me come with your cock!”
His jaw hardened to dark stone. He curled his fingers into her hips, gripping her with inescapable force. He handled her like a toy for his pure carnal pleasure and she gave herself over to the joy of being just that, her breath escaping her on harsh gasps in time to every brutal crash of their bodies. With every thrust, his cock seemed to grow. His flesh shoved at hers, forcing her to accommodate him, giving her no quarter for comfort or ease. He took. She gave. Then he gave so much back to her. Fire. Friction. Tightness. Tension. Heat that built and grew, pulsed and pounded…
And released.
“Oh!” She cried it in pure shock. The orgasm overtook her from the inside out, radiating in a shockwave that really rendered her limbs to the consistency of a yarn doll. “Oh, my God. What the hell?”
Zeke bent his head to kiss her hard. “Let it come, little bird.” His voice was husky and thick. “Fuck. That feels so good. Let it come, because when you do, I’m going to burst deep and hard inside you.”
“Zeke!” His nasty words worked their magic. A second climax claimed her, more intense than the first. It ripped her mind free from what remained of its moorings, sending her over into the abyss of surrender. She was lost in an ocean of raw sensation, overcome by pure white heat as Z poured his cum into her a moment later on his own long, roaring groan.
She was washed in new beauty again—but this time there was no analyzing the flood let alone controlling it. The tears poured, untamed and unabated, as a blend of sorrow and elation tore back so many shackles in her heart.
She wanted him inside her forever.
But all too soon, he slipped away.
She mewled in protest as he pulled out. With an efficient swipe, Z pulled off the condom. She didn’t know where he put it, only grateful that he barely budged from her side as he did. With equal efficacy, he released her arms from the rope then stroked both of them, his gaze scanning every inch of skin where he’d cinched it around her. Apparently satisfied she was all right, at least in a general physical sense, he gathered her in his arms and carried her to the bed. Once she was there, he laid her carefully on her side before climbing in behind
her.
The feel of his huge body did nothing to stop the flood now bursting from her senses. She dragged in air, hoping to calm the storm down, but her ragged breaths were just a blatant reminder of how thoroughly he’d turned her inside out.
What the hell had just happened?
Would she ever be the same again?
Would they?
“Ssshh.” Z issued it into the hair he’d started to finger comb off her face. His tone was deep and resonant, as if he’d just read her damn mind. “Let it all come, bird. Let it all out. I’m not going anywhere.”
She twisted to face him. With a watery smirk, she asked, “Is that an order, Sir?”
His answering chuckle made his whole face go warm and sexy. “Sure as fuck is.”
She laughed, too, which provided the tears with another escape hatch. Zeke rolled her over, gathered her close, and stroked her hair as she choked her way through another sob fest.
“I’m sorry,” she finally blubbered.
“I’m not,” Z murmured back.
“I don’t understand all this.”
He lifted her chin with a finger. When she looked into his eyes, the passion that had darkened them swirled with rich caramel hues. “I do.” He gave her a fast kiss. “And it’s probably the best gift you’ve ever given me.”
She narrowed her eyes. “Better than the Yoda T-shirt I found for your birthday?”
He broke into a grin. “Yeah. Even better than that.”
“Explain?” She tilted her head.
“Later.” Anchoring the back of her head with his hand, he tucked her against his chest again. “Rest. I’m going to get up in a few and find some cream for your ass. Then you’ll sleep. A lot. Then we can talk.”
Though his voice was still full of command, there was no mistaking the encroachment of real life on them once more. She sighed deeply. It wasn’t like she hadn’t expected this part. She’d knelt for him with the full knowledge that no woman would ever hold that the space at Z’s feet forever.
Knowing it and accepting it were two different things.
She turned her cheek against his chest and gazed at the couch across the room. And conceded that she’d never look at that thing the same way as long as she was here.
And wondered if she’d look at anything the same way again.
And realized, even with the entire Seattle PD and a vengeful madman looking for them, that no moment in the last twenty-four hours terrified her more.
Chapter Thirteen
He woke up alone. And was puzzled why that bothered him so much.
A glance at the clock told him it was two a.m., though that wasn’t the reason for the disconcertment. In Special Forces, one lived by the time table of the mission. This was often the team’s lunch hour. The immediate circumstances weren’t a valid excuse, either. After funneling so much of himself into the needs of a subbie, it was often a relief when they snuck off to freshen up, letting him relock himself the way the he liked best: in silence and seclusion. The good ones figured that part out pretty quick.
But she wasn’t just a “good one,” was she?
She was the perfect one.
“Fuck.” He threw his forearm over his eyes, as if that would blot out the memories of her kneeling for him, opening for him, climaxing for him…giving herself to him. “You need to stop this right now, moron,” he told himself. “Perfect or not, it’s past tense now. It was good. It was a damn great adventure. End of story. She scratched her D/s itch, and you were the lucky bastard who got to help. She’s done; you’re done; it was great. Move the hell on.”
Even considering anything else with her would be a catastrophic mistake. His past was knife fights and naps in garbage dumpsters. Hers had been homecoming games and cupcakes. His present was missions, bullets, and terrorists. Hers was bandages, healing…and cupcakes. The last time he checked, bullets didn’t go well with frosting.
That didn’t stop him from wanting one last embrace.
Where the hell was she?
He sat up in bed, realizing that he didn’t hear her in the bathroom. A quick look across the room didn’t reveal a light under the door, either.
He swept back the covers and left the bed in one flow of movement.
Since he’d put his shorts back on when he’d gotten the cream for her ass, he only had to throw his T-shirt on now. He did that while crossing to the doorway to the landing. Once there, he stopped and listened to every corner of the cabin.
Aside from the post-storm drips off the roof and trees outside, he heard nothing.
There were no lights on downstairs, either.
Where the hell was she?
Following protocol from years of training, he clamped down the urge to yell for her. Instead, he padded to the upstairs lock box, quickly keyed in the code, and yanked out the Springfield .45 caliber stored within. With a fast flick, he opened the chamber and loaded a couple of bullets. He slid his thumb to the safety, preparing to flip it off if need be then took the stairs two at a time down, absorbing his weight with his knees and regulating his breathing so he made no more noise than a feather.
Which was what he felt like when he got to the ground floor and saw her again.
Moonlight shone through the back deck window, though the silver streams danced with the storm clouds, making the living room look like a mystical rainforest. Rayna, covered again to her knees in his Henley, stood in the middle of it—if that was the proper term for her pose. With one leg raised with its foot braced against her other knee and her hands pressed over her heart in a diamond shape, she reminded him more than ever of a graceful fairy tale bird. She was adorable. Amazing. If he hadn’t been all over her and inside her six hours ago, he would have even doubted she was real.
He couldn’t decide whether to keep staring at her, or order her to the couch so he could redden her ass again for scaring the shit out of him.
Not scratching that itch again, jackass. Remember?
The next moment, she took care of his dilemma, anyway.
“Put down the gun and come join me, Sergeant Hayes.”
Her voice was as ethereal as the light that surrounded her and soft as the smile she tilted at him. The fact that he stood there with the weapon didn’t seem to stun her in the least—which dazed him so much, he complied without a word. She rewarded him by extending a hand, pulling him next to her.
“You should be sleeping, bird.”
She arched both brows as she angled him to stand as she did, facing toward the panorama of cliffs and mountains that seemed to undulate beneath the clouds and the full moon’s glow. “Are you really going to try that one on me, SF boy?”
“And are you really going to call me ‘boy?’”
She turned her face up to him. Her eyes were full of dark emerald solemnity. “Then what do I call you?”
Hell. That was the sixty million dollar question, wasn’t it? He looked away instead of answering her, all too aware of the words that pushed way too close to the edge of his discipline. You can just continue with “Sir.” How does that sound? Or maybe I’ll just tell you how it sounds. Maybe I’ll tell you about all the submissives who have offered it to me in so many scenes, but how none of them filled my spirit with such satisfaction or pumped my body with such need. How it never gave me what your lips did…
“What are you doing?” he asked, instead.
“Just getting the chakras in line.”
She centered her stance again. This time she kept both feet on the floor. Without letting his hand go, she lifted her arms like a swan about to take flight. If his evasiveness ticked her off, she chose to play it close to her vest. Well, her chest. Like he could avoid noticing the sight, between her pose and the deep V of flesh exposed by the neckline of his shirt. Damn it. From his vantage point, he could see all the way in to the dark gold circle of her left areola, including the deep pink streaks left behind by his teeth. He smiled in grim triumph. He couldn’t touch her anymore but she’d sure as hell remember he had, at l
east for a few days.
It would be so easy to use their handclasp to drag her close again. To ram her against him, devour her in a kiss, shove that shirt up past her waist and—
“Come on, Z.” Her voice fell back into its gentle mist again. “Join me.”
The steamy fantasy bugged out like a greenie grunt under heavy fire. “Nah. Thanks. I’m good.”
“Yes, you are.” She curled a silky smile. “But how’re your chakras?”
He seriously needed to just let go of her. But goddamnit, he couldn’t. As his arm went along for the ride through a sweeping circle of hers, he muttered, “Bird, I don’t do chakras.”
“Really? Because you sure as hell tangled with a few of mine.”
Shit. How did he address that without coming off like an elephant on rice paper?
With a nervous snort, he rotated and adopted the same pose as her. “Is that good or bad?”
He watched her face carefully as she considered an answer. Her forehead crinkled just a little before she replied, “A little of each. So breathe in the next time we go up, okay? Hold it then let it out slowly.”
He rolled his eyes. “I—don’t—”
“In,” she decreed. Up their arms went. He snorted his way through obeying her. “Now let it out. Slowly.”
“Christ,” he grumbled—though damn if the action didn’t spread a nice layer of warmth through him. As she lifted his arm again, he ditched the snort in favor of really filling his lungs all the way.
And sneaking in a stare at her.
And marveling at what he saw.
With her hair a bright mahogany mess, contrasting with the porcelain serenity of her profile, she was as fascinating to him as the first day they’d sat and talked in the garden at the embassy in Bangkok. He took in the little curves at the corners of her lips, the gentle rise of her neck, the straight strength of her shoulders. There always seemed something new to notice about her, something else about her beauty that took his breath away.
And here she was…all his. Dressed in his damn shirt. Still covered in his bites.
Filling his cock with craving her beneath him again.
