Collared By The Cowboy (Bad Boys)

by Susan Arden

  “How will you know if I can stand more?” She scanned his face, looking for reassurance.

  “You have red and yellow. I doubt you’ll need them.” Brandon gently tipped her chin up to meet his gaze. “Baby, our bodies are roadmaps. I’m confident I can read yours.”

  “Mighty confident,” she murmured.

  He’d already demonstrated his expertise and insight into her. No matter, for a moment his arrogance chafed her. She lifted her arms as though by instinct, covering her chest.

  Immediately, his gaze sharpened. “Hands down, Mia.”

  She released a murmur of frustration in her throat as his large, capable hands guided her body down and across his lap. He moved her arms out in front of her shoulders, draping them over his legs, and her fingertips grazed the floor. He lifted her dress, baring her bottom. All at once, he pulled up the slip of material between her cheeks and rubbed his finger down through her dampness.

  “Oh. God!” She arched upward.

  “Steady, Mia. Trust me. This is about control as much as it is about honesty. You’re wet and excited.” His hand guided her down again, removing her thong as he held her over his legs. Then Brandon expertly thrust his finger in and out of her, and instinctively she clenched from the pleasure of his touch. She wanted to give in, but she couldn’t admit to being this needy. “Relax for me, baby.”

  He fucked her with his hand and her mind raced, along with her breathing and overloaded senses. It was true. Excitement, fire, and her desire to do what Brandon commanded awoke the same desire he’d crafted in her earlier, only now it went from blooming to damn near explosive. His husky voice swam seductively into her mind.

  “Please,” she breathed. “I want more.”

  “But that’s not what you need at this moment.” He drew her cheeks apart and blew across her skin, making chill bumps rush to the surface of her backside. She wriggled on his lap; the space between her legs swelled from craving more of him, coupled with being pushed to the brink.

  “Why are you drawing this out when I’m so on edge?” she demanded, bowing upward and attempting to see his expression.

  His eyes turned to her and she gasped. His pupils were fully dilated. “Last time. Stay still. I remind you, Mia, that isn’t a direction with latitude. It’s a directive that will be enforced.”

  “As in positive or negative reinforcement?” Her psychology training flared to the forefront, but this wasn’t a mental match where he'd let her get the upper hand using psycho-babble. She flinched when his hand pressed between her legs, drawing upwards and touching her in a place she’d never agreed to share with anyone. “That might be a hard limit.”

  With one hand, he swiped his fingers lightly over her crevice, then stopped and more firmly fingered her. “Your ass is so tempting.”

  “Sir, please,” she said in a strangled voice, flexing her hips. He moved his other hand from her shoulder to her face and stroked his thumb across her bottom lip.

  “You have a safe word.”

  “I’m not ready to use it…Sir.”

  “Just give into sensation. That’s all I want you to do. Close your eyes.”

  She felt a wisp of something smooth. Soft. Fragile.

  “Now open your eyes,” he said.

  She bit her lip and met Brandon’s gaze. He swiped a feather along her skin. A long, black feather. She smiled and stroked the feather with her fingertips. He grazed it arduously along her body, separating the silky plumes like the teeth of a comb across her skin and she moaned in pleasure. Her heartbeat thundered and she heard the pitter-patter of it in her ears like rain on windowpanes, but no rain fell.

  He inhaled. “We’ll begin. I want you to take a breath and trust me.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She closed her eyes, focusing on the sensations of the room. The hardness of his legs, pressing into her belly. His masculine scent bathed her mind until she felt the first stroke, feather-soft. The leather strands of the flogger traced her backside. Brandon’s gift to her—one she’d always remember.

  Then the strands grazed down her thigh. Brandon lifted the flogger and again teased the leather cords over her hip, cheek, and leg before he stopped. She felt the leather strands lift and tease the other side of her body and she couldn’t help shuddering.

  “Sir,” she moaned, pushing up her hips.

  “Ssshhh. Just feel what I’m doing.” His deep voice rolled over her skin as he repeated the rhythmic stroking of leather down the other side of her body.

  She rocked her hips against his hand and over his legs. “That feels so good,” she moaned, opening her eyes and inhaling. Glancing up and over her shoulder, she met his piercing eyes.

  “You’ll count out each flick delivered. Counting will help you breath and deal with the sensations. We’ll start with the first set of twenty. You’ll count backwards. If you do what you’re supposed to, no more spanks will get tacked on. Don’t tempt me to up the count tonight, darlin’. We’ll begin with an apology for disregarding my directions.”

  An apology! She gritted her teeth and inhaled, shifting on his lap, and huffed out, “I’m sorry.”

  “All right, I can see you’re going to hardheaded.” His hand came down with a sharp smack, delivering a sizzling snap. “Mia, you can do better.”

  For a moment, she couldn’t. Breathing required all her concentration. Her skin prickled with tiny dots of perspiration.

  “Well?” Brandon asked, his deep voice a warm caress over her back.

  She laced her fingers together and squeezed. “I-I-I didn’t listen. In the parking lot. Several times, actually. I almost fell and you were just trying to keep me safe. I’m sorry, Sir.”

  In response, Brandon rubbed his hand over her ass, his thumb swiping down and between her thighs. One light tease and she spread her legs, craving he’d do more.

  “Time to begin,” he said, ever so calmly.

  A sharp slice swished through the air before her brain could process the sound as delivering discomfort. Searing stripes of pain stung her backside, flaring brightly in her mind. She reared her head upward just as Brandon’s hand came down, pressing her shoulders. The leather strands of the flogger radiated with a bite across her skin, far different from the slapping sting of his hand.

  “Damn!” she yipped.

  “Count and breathe.” He leaned into her waist, his hand massaging the skin over her ass. Her attention divided into the categories of pleasure and pain, and she didn’t know what to focus on. She inhaled—or tried to make sense of the idea to breathe. The slice of pain dissipated, not completely, but enough so that she tuned into something as easy as inhaling to find a place to ground. “Mia, I’m waiting,” Brandon’s voice commanded her attention.

  His fingers remained poised at the space between her thighs and she moaned. “Twenty. Thank you, Sir.”

  “Baby, those words sound perfect coming from your mouth,” he said, running his skilled fingers across her sex.

  Oh Lord! She pushed her hips in the direction of his teasing fingers and he chuckled, pinching her clit. “Please, Sir,” she whispered.

  “Ready for more it seems,” he murmured. “Remember to count, darlin’.”

  Her body clenched in frustration—already craving the temptation he offered.

  “Yes, Sir.” This time she listened carefully for anything that remotely resembled a swishing sound. She caught the whoosh and tensed her body. One bright spark discharged within her mind. This time the pain bit into her skin, skittered to her core, and she scrunched her eyes shut. A cork in an ocean of glittery, jagged sensation. Red-hot-poker pain stabbed her ass and shot through her veins.

  “Mia. You will count for me. We will get through this. I will fuck you. Now focus on my directions.” The quiet commanding tenor of Brandon’s voice caught her and held her focus. “Count.”

  Count? What number…nineteeeeeen.

  “Nine…teen,” she spluttered with her eyes still closed. “Nineteen. Thank you, Sir.”

  Unrelenting, he
used the flogger on her other side in a twice-on-each-side pattern. Again, the swish and swat landed and she managed to count without freaking the hell out.

  She shifted on Brandon’s lap, her body heating and mind racing. “Fifteen. Thank you, Sir.”

  “You’re doing fine,” he said in a low pitch. “Open your legs for me.”

  “Yes, Sir.” It wasn’t any easier now. Really, her skin burned from his dead aim. Each time he swung the flogger, he hit the same spot and her body convulsed into a tight plank. But each time she did her part, he rewarded her with his fingers and a delicious tease. “Oh please,” she moaned, stretching her legs.

  “That’s it, baby. Open those lovely thighs wider. You’re wet and so beautiful like this.” His fingers spread her arousal in a tight circle around her clit, touching and tormenting her until she couldn’t think straight. This time he had her jerking in tight bounces until her hips jackknifed above his lap. She hungered for the next swat, arching up her ass, and silently groaning her plea for more. More. More, until he changed the strength of his spank.

  “Ow!” Her ass cheek burned worse than before. “What was that?” she snarled.

  “That’s not counting,” he reminded her in his steely Dominant voice.

  She curled her fingers into fists, inhaling a serrated breath until the sting subsided. “Fourteen. Thank you, Sir.” Pinpricks of perspiration broke out along her temples. Three more swishes and her voice quavered during each count. Not once did Brandon relent in his force and she sure as heck wasn’t going to beg. “Eleven. Thank you, Sir.”

  If anything, the smacks became more intense with each one delivered. Scorching came to mind. The scalded skin over her butt stung as though she now sported a third-degree sunburn.

  God bless! They were only halfway done. She inhaled, trying to find the place within herself where she could find relief.

  “You’re doing incredibly, Mia.” Brandon’s rich drawl filled her like a summer rain. “No tears or begging. So strong.”

  “Thank you, Sir.” Her voice wavered as her body and mind spun. Inhaling deeply, she glanced around this side of his bedroom, bringing up her shaking hands to brush back her hair. She’d been so wrapped up in manning her personal pain booth, the rest of the world didn’t matter.

  She caught sight of Brandon’s reflection in the mirror over the bureau and her body spread over his lap, his commanding expression, the silver chain and medallion swinging over his pecs, his flexing shoulder muscles…she could have watched him for hours. He lifted his arm, unleashing a sharp swoosh, and all her good ideas evaporated. He must have decided she could stand more heat, because this time he brought the flogger down and the swish snapped like a cat-o-nine-tails on her ass cheek.

  Tears prickled behind her lids.

  “Ten. Thank you, Sir.” Her voice came out a hoarse whisper. She was so close to sobbing, pushed to the limit. Red velvet. Should she say it? Or simply red…yellow. No! No! No!

  “Do you want me to stop?” Brandon asked, his voice coming out a low rasp.

  She couldn’t meet his eyes, afraid he’d read her thoughts. “Please, Sir. Continue,” she whispered.

  “You have the means to let me know—

  “No, Sir. I’m fine,” she said. Then echoed, “Fine.”

  “Baby…,” he halted as if he might continue speaking. He didn’t. Instead, he used the flogger without mercy—or that’s what it felt like to her—and she swallowed the whimper on the tip of her tongue, coupled with a plea to stop. She counted on cue, breathing in deeply as a hazy hum filtered through her awareness.

  Once more, he sliced the air with the flogger and down it, connecting her to him. Her body became a tight vessel of total sensation. She tried to think a coherent thought and her brain refused. A sparkly sheen surrounded her mind and she hiked her hips as though instinct had taken over. She wriggled as the space between her legs swelled and pulsed—increasing as she concentrated on the soothing, husky sounds Brandon made as he spanked, then massaged her bottom and thighs. She lived for his fingers and the emotive tracing of her sex, the separating of her lips, his drawing a trail around her entrance, and massaging her clit. He worked her into a frenzy until she sensed, climbing higher and higher, the tendrils of an impeding endorphin rush.

  The leather strips came down and she counted, “Six. Thank you, Sir.” Her voice sounded breathy to her ears. She felt the sting, but now it came coupled with a frisson of excitement as though she were at the threshold of something mind-bending—something ethereal. Each swat he delivered reverberated and coiled low in her belly. Bursts of pleasure released when the flogger connected with her skin.

  “Please,” she let escape from her mouth. “Oh, Brandon.” This wasn’t the sexy Please! begging him to fuck her. This was the all-encompassing, Thank you for knowing me better than I know myself acknowledgement. His hand came down, the leather flayed across her bottom and a mind-blowing buzz consumed her to the brim.

  “Five,” She counted, biting her bottom lip in sounding out the number and finished with a whispered, “Thank you, Sir.”

  The burning over her butt evolved from hot and bothered to a deeper state of erotic arousal. She swayed her hips and rubbed her breasts across Brandon’s muscular thighs.

  “Baby, hold still.” He used the flogger, changing sides, and she inhaled as though prompted. “You’re breathing. So sexy.”

  “Four. Thank you, Sir.” She drifted off, fantasizing and barely conscious of how she pushed her hips high, high into the air seeking his hand after two pleasure-bearing smacks.

  Each second wore into her like the scrape of sandpaper. Gradually, the numbers begin to dwindle and it was just she and Brandon. She tried to remain perfectly still. She heard only the swishing of the flogger lifted in her Dom’s hand and she suspected there was another part of this erotic adventure he’d like to teach her. Tantalizing her at every opportunity.

  “Mia,” Brandon raised his voice. “Last one. I want to hear you count it. Loud.”

  The intense smack came, sending a thousand electrical zings along her nerve endings. She arched as erotic ache and primal hunger converged. No longer pain driven, she groaned on the cusp of shattering. She needed Brandon now!

  She bit back a moan, rocking her hips against his legs. “One. Thank you, Sir.” Her arousal flared and she exhaled, giving in to his gentle hands hauling her upright onto his lap.

  “Come, Mia. God, you floor me.” He buried his head against her neck and growled seductively, “Baby, you’re more than captivating, and now you’re mine.”

  “Brandon,” she whispered, leaning against him. Her hands felt numb and she could hardly think as he lifted her off his lap and moved her to the center of the bed. He turned her over on her side, lifting her dress up her waist, and she noticed the sound of a bottle being squeezed. She flinched, swinging her head toward him. “What are you doing?”

  “Aloe vera,” he said, rubbing the gel between his palms. “This will help the burn.”

  His warm hands spread, tingling coolness over her skin. She arched, giving into his erotic massage as he stroked her bottom, then moved his fingers between her legs.

  “Feels sensational,” she murmured, rocking her hips.

  Turning her over so that she was flat against the mattress, he caged her between his palms, staring down into her face. “You get to pick the position.”

  “Like this, Sir.” She tugged at her dress with her bound wrists, and opened her legs wide for him to see the condition that he’d delivered her into—hot, wet, bothered…and oh-so-ready for him.

  He met her eyes with a fierce expression and a muscle throbbed along his jaw. “Raise your arms and keep them above your head. No moving them unless directed.”

  “Yes, Sir.” She hooked her fingers under his headboard and her body started to tremble under his watchful eyes. Oh. God. She was so close to bursting into flames.

  Without speaking, he lowered his zipper and pushed his jeans down his hips. His swollen coc
k glistened at the tip and appeared forged in steel. He climbed between her legs, sinking his hips down while fisting his hard-on, then hoisted her knee, wrapping her leg around his waist. His crown rimmed her entrance and he reached down, cupping her stinging ass cheek.

  “Your ass is beautiful. So damn tempting, painted pink.” She whimpered as he pushed forward an inch. There was nothing gentle in the way he hauled her up to him. “Got to get inside you. Now.”

  Brandon savagely slammed his cock deep inside her. She inhaled, as she felt the sting of him stretching her folds when he didn’t hold back, and the hot spark of sharp pleasure erupted deep in her belly. He buried his cock to the hilt inside her, returning deep and deeper with each hammered thrust he supplied. He delivered what he’d promised, pivoting his hips, fucking her hard and rough.

  “I’m so close,” she groaned. The coil inside her belly heated into a flame, then without warning unraveled. She yelled his name with her hoarse voice. The sound of skin slapping skin filled his bedroom as he bucked against her, forcing the ache within her to fully splinter, and she came apart under him.

  “That’s it. Mia, no holding back.” He thrust into her farther and farther, grabbing her by the hair at her nape, and plunging into her like he never intended on stopping.

  The roiling within her belly swirled wildly each time his cock rubbed against her swollen clit. She gripped the wood between her fingers as the pressure returned, another wave, more like a tsunami, built within her body, growing stronger and stronger. He hauled her hips up to him in rhythm with his ramming cock. He ground himself harder and deeper, having now located her secret spot.

  “Again. Oh, please again, Brandon,” she pleaded. She took what he had to give and held onto to him, calling his name over and over.

  “That’s it. So fucking good.” He tugged her arms higher above her head, pumping his hips as he kept his thighs aligned with her ass. “Say it! My name on your beautiful lips.”

  “Brandon, I’m coming apart,” she moaned.