Doms of Dark Haven 2: Western Night

by Sierra Cartwright, Belinda McBride,

  “I…” Why did he have to keep asking for clarifications? Her buddies simply accepted her limits without studying her reactions or questioning her answers. She shifted uncomfortably.

  “I know you’re not completely at ease. That’s good to a degree.” He leaned down and dragged her completely between his legs. His thighs closed on her upper arms like iron bars. When he threaded a hand into her long hair and tugged her head back, she stared up at him helplessly, knowing the quivers in her stomach had more to do with anticipation than fear.

  “Oh, you’re excited, all right. I can see it,” he murmured. He tossed his hat on the sack of clothing, and his mouth gently settled on hers. He tasted of mint. Clean and heady. His firm hand curved under her chin as he teased and nibbled at her lips

  With her hands tied behind her back, head trapped by his grip on her hair, and his fingers on her jaw, she couldn’t fight his assault—didn’t want to fight as heat flooded her veins. Her lips softened, opened.

  “That’s right. Let me in.” He took her mouth hard this time, as forceful as a Midwestern twister, rocking her to the foundation.

  When he sat back, she wanted to follow him, to crawl into his lap, to feel his hands on her. The way his knees tightened on her shoulders, pinning her in place, showed he knew…and wouldn’t relinquish control and let her.

  The knowledge finished off what his kiss had started. She felt the wetness where her bottom pressed against her legs. Her body was screaming, Yes, yes, yes. Sex!

  He rested a hand on her shoulder, heavy and warm, and she couldn’t help but remember the sure strength of his hands as he’d tied her wrists. “Well, sex does seem like a good possibility, doesn’t it?” he said in a low tone, watching her with those careful eyes

  Odd hazel eyes. Upstairs in the brighter lights, she’d thought they were green. Here, in the dimmer lighting, they appeared slightly lighter than his tanned skin—a brown with mesmerizing golden flecks. And filled with an intimidating self-possession.

  “Virgil, could I interrupt?”

  Virgil looked up from the pretty little sub to see the Hunt brothers’ friend, Simon. They’d talked before at one of the Hunts’ parties.

  “Xavier mentioned you’d come in with no gear,” Simon said.

  “I hadn’t planned to play tonight.” Hell, he hoped he’d walk in, get disgusted, and be done with this problem. Instead he’d had the opposite reaction. So now he had a submissive uncomfortable with bondage—only he could see she wanted it—and who definitely enjoyed pain. How could he possibly give her what she needed?

  “About what I thought.” The dom dropped a leather bag beside Virgil’s chair. “When Jake and Logan mentioned your visit, I gathered a sampling of things you might enjoy. Nothing extreme.”

  “Thanks, Simon, but—”

  “Keep it and put them all to good use.” His gaze flicked over Summer, and he smiled. “You can start on this impertinent submissive.”

  The noise she made sounded like the growl his cousin’s coon cat would make, and without looking, Virgil set his hand on top of her head. She quieted, and satisfaction washed through him. They were in tune already, and the way she focused on him, looking at him in a way she hadn’t with the other dom, gave him a charge almost like an adrenaline rush. “In that case, I accept.”

  “Excellent. I’m on dungeon monitor duty, so I’ll be around.” Simon strolled away.

  With friends like him, who needs enemies? Virgil frowned at the bag, undoubtedly full of everything needed to render a woman helpless, to keep her restrained. His head said no.

  Yet Summer was beautiful, on her knees, bound in his ropes. The desire to please him, to be under his control, showed in her eyes, and something inside him answered to her need.

  He nudged his foot against the bag. Undoubtedly it contained equipment to hurt her too. His gut clenched. But look at her. Lips parted, cheeks flushed. She’d requested pain, and her wide eyes begged for him to continue.

  His cock rose in full agreement, and he sighed. Damned if his dick and a willing sub hadn’t outvoted him.

  He needed to do this, needed to discover his own limits and try to resolve the conflict. And in the process, he’d damn well be a good dom to her. He rose. “Discussion’s over. We’ve got an available spanking bench right there.”

  She bit her lip, yet her squirm of anticipation lightened his heart.

  He undid the ropes from her wrists and checked the skin. Slightly reddened but no abrasions. He’d taken care when roping her. She had such pretty, smooth skin, and he hadn’t done a tie-down of a calf in a while.

  After slinging the bag over his shoulder to rest across his back, he lifted her into his arms. Round and soft. He rubbed his chin over her silky hair, breathing the scent in: peaches and vanilla. She smelled edible. Lickable. Fuckable.

  Built like a prayer bench, the spanking bench had a padded place to kneel and a higher padded four-by-four for the submissive to bend over. He hadn’t used one before, but he’d watched the previous couple. Straightforward enough. Seemed like the proper equipment, since he planned to warm Summer’s round ass as part of Xavier’s punishment.

  A little hurt with no lasting harm. But what if he liked it? Dammit.

  He set her down beside the bench, holding her upper arms to help her balance. Although she was average height, she seemed small. Womanly. He smoothed his palms over her curvy body, learning her shape and feel. Her bones were pleasingly padded, her waist curved in nicely, and her full hips begged for the grip of a man’s hands.

  “Stay right there and don’t move.” When he reinforced the command with the stern expression he used to intimidate drunks, a tiny shiver ran through her body. Ah. Logan had said a dom could often spot a submissive by her reaction to a command. Nice.

  She wanted his control—he’d give her what she needed.

  Keeping a hand curved around her calf so she wouldn’t lose the sense of being restrained, he knelt and opened the bag. Leather cuffs. Yes. A telescoping spreader bar. Oh yeah. A paddle? His stomach tightened. Then he nodded. Yes. Anal toys—not yet. The leather belt—hell no.

  In fact, part of him insisted he shouldn’t use any of this stuff.

  But the little sub’s arousal hung in the air, a soft fragrance that made him want to hear her whimper and beg for release. He wanted to know everything—her desires, what made her tick. Her voice had caught his attention; her appearance had roused him. Her giggling… Damn, he’d loved that, but the way she’d faced her fears? How could a man resist that combination of submission and courage?

  How would she react to the paddle? To his hands? He’d find out how they’d both react. That was why he was here.

  She stood quietly as he studied her. He’d scened with some subs at Serenity Lodge, but tonight felt different. He’d take her surrender, yes. He expected to have her squirming under him…but more. This time, he wanted to know the sub. This one. Summer.

  And to find out about the bad experience Simon had mentioned. Should he have pushed her more? Just how much did restraints really bother her? He’d have to watch her reactions like a hawk.

  But right now, the flush in her cheeks and the added pinkness of her lips said she wanted what he had to give. He slid his palm up her thigh to below her pussy, feeling the juices creeping down her leg and the heat of her skin. He left his hand there, enjoying the tiny squirms she gave.

  A squirmy soft woman with big blue eyes. He was a dead man.

  Chapter Three

  When Virgil removed the rope ties from her ankles, Summer felt more in control. Less nervous. Less excited. But she didn’t mind. Being unbound was so much safer and—

  Something closed around her left ankle. Her gaze shot down. A cuff? He set a spreader bar next to her feet. She stepped back.

  “For each time you move, I’m adding an extra swat.”

  She closed her eyes at the arousing threat. She’d gone past damp and well into really wet. If he kept talking to her in that rough, sexy baritone,
she’d never last.

  He cuffed her right ankle. “Open your legs.”

  She moved her legs apart, and he slapped her inner thighs lightly to make her spread more. God, the tiniest of stings and she almost moaned. Cool air wafted against the wetness of her folds.

  As he adjusted the spreader bar, she listened to the sounds around them: the faint beat of country music. A man’s low moan. A woman’s intermittent shrieks of pain. Low instructions from a dom. A woman’s scream of climax. What would it be like to be so lost in an orgasm as to scream?

  Virgil had made the spreader bar wider than her shoulders. He attached her ankle cuffs to each end. This time when she tried to draw her legs together, she couldn’t. The bar held her ankles apart, keeping her exposed. Oh Lord.

  Still kneeling, he ran his calloused hands up her thighs.

  Her breath stopped as his fingers approached her pussy. Her clit throbbed. She needed to be touched right there. Instead he folded her short leather skirt up and tucked the hem into the waist, and did the same in the front. After undoing the bows of her thong, he pulled it off. When he held the scrap of material to his face and inhaled, her cheeks flared with heat.

  “You smell nice, like sunshine and sex.” His hand cupped her exposed pussy, and he gave a pleased mmm. “All shaved and bare—nothing in the way of my tongue.”

  She hadn’t realized she could grow wetter.

  He rose, filling space with his solid presence, as if the world might bump into him and he’d never give ground. “Let’s get your vest off also. In fact, why don’t you undo it for me?”

  “Me?” She added quickly, “Yes, Sir.”

  He stood, feet braced, arms folded over his bare chest, and waited as she fumbled with the leather strings. Finally she reached the last one, and her vest fell open.

  “You, honey, have gorgeous breasts.” He slid the garment off and cupped her full breasts with hands so large she fit without overflowing. His movements as unhurried as his speech, he weighed and molded them.

  When his thumbs circled her bunched nipples, streaks of need shot straight to her clit. Seeing the heat and command in his eyes, she felt as if she’d gone wading and stepped off into deep water. She looked down only to see his muscular forearms and corded wrists and the erotic sight of his tanned hands on her pale skin.

  “Eyes on me, sweetheart.” He put his fingers under her chin and lifted her face up, holding her there as his other hand rolled her nipple. As he pinched it to the edge of pain, then stroked the ache away, he watched her with a penetrating gaze that pierced all the way to her soul.

  When finally he stepped back, heat simmered beneath her skin as if she had a sauna inside her…and the thermostat had broken.

  “I saw you with someone earlier, you know. You didn’t look like your head was in the game at all.” His eyebrows lifted. “Was it?”

  Her breasts were swollen, her nipples burned, and she needed a moment to process his meaning. Then she winced, remembering how Xavier had said she playacted submission. “Uh. I guess not.” Xavier was right, darn him. Her buddies never affected her like this, never shook her confidence, never took the control from her hands. They never made her feel sexy.

  Under the warm heat in Virgil’s eyes, she felt…beautiful.

  He pulled more cuffs from the toy bag. “Give me your wrist, Summer.”

  A tremor ran through her, shaking her balance. Unable to even step back, she chewed on her lip, wanting to protest that she’d already said no to bondage.

  His gaze was level. Steady.

  She put her hand in his palm. As he fastened the cool leather snugly around one wrist, then the other, the shaking grew inside, not from fear, but from need.

  He ran a finger under each cuff and tested the fit. “Use your safe word if you get scared, honey.”

  “I’m fine.” Her voice came out husky.

  “Yes, you are, aren’t you?” He kissed her lips lightly, then took a seat on the spanking bench. His firm gaze met hers. “I want those breasts,” he said softly. “Bring them to me, please.”

  Her nipples contracted so hard and tight she wanted to whimper with arousal. But she didn’t move, because if she did—if she followed his order—then she gave him even more than he’d taken.

  His voice turned dangerously low. “Now, Summer.”

  Her feet shuffled forward without any intention on her part, and under his authoritative gaze, her hands lifted her breasts, offered them to him.

  “That’s very nice, sweetheart.” He set one hand on her bottom, and his other pressed over where her left palm cupped her breast. His warm breath touched her nipple. One breath and another. With the subtle stimulation, her head spun, dizzy with need.

  The touch of his warm lips on the peak made her jump.

  The grip on her butt tightened, holding her firmly as his tongue circled her nipple. “Mmmm.” His deep voice was rich with satisfaction.

  When he glanced at her, she tried to back away. “No, Summer. Don’t move.” He paused. “Why don’t you want me to enjoy your breasts?”

  No one had ever questioned her so persistently. “Uh.” If she said, I want you to, he wouldn’t believe her, since she’d tried to retreat. If she said, I don’t like it, he wouldn’t believe her, since a blind man could see the way she responded to him. This man was as far from blind as any dom she’d ever met.

  “Summer?” His quiet voice ripped her anchoring away like the current in a fast river.

  “I…I’m used to a dom taking what he wants. Offering feels different.”

  “I see. Sweetheart, you’re going to offer me a lot more than just your breasts tonight.” His baritone was measured and sure.

  Her air hissed out at the dark promise in his eyes.

  He lowered his head, his lips enclosing her nipple with heat. He sucked hard and fast, and she gave a tiny scream. Each strong pull of his mouth on her breast somehow squeezed her clit too.

  When he straightened, she lowered her hands. “Do not move, baby,” he growled, and she froze, then pushed her breasts back upward.

  “Very obedient. Good girl.” His compliment made her float with pleasure.

  He touched her between the legs, where her pussy had waited forever for just that. Even so, she jerked at the jolt of exquisite sensation and got a low, “Uh, uh. Stay still, honey.” He traced a finger between her labia, slicking the wetness up and over her clit and back down.

  Her eyes closed at the incredible pleasure. Her nipples, wet and swollen from his mouth, bunched tightly and throbbed, and his finger multiplied the sensations streaming through her. When he pushed a slick finger up into her, her knees wobbled. More.

  She opened her eyes to see him watching her with a narrowed gaze.

  A flutter started in her stomach. “I—”

  “Shhh.” With his finger deep inside her, he rubbed his thumb over her clit, making little circles on one side until the nub hardened. Then he switched to the other side. The pressure in her groin grew, and his thick finger in her curled, rubbing something—somewhere—and the electrifying friction unraveled her thoughts completely.

  He moved away, leaving her close to the edge. Hurting with need. “You’re a beautiful submissive, Summer. I like the way you respond.” With sure hands, he lifted her onto the spanking bench and clipped her cuffs behind her back.

  She stiffened. “No. No, I don’t want my hands restrained.”

  “Yes. You do.” He squeezed her shoulders, massaging the rigidity away. “Bondage scares you for some reason, but you do want it. Need it. That’s clear, even to me.”

  Even to him? She shut her eyes in frustration. He read her more easily than almost anyone in the place.

  “Breathe for me, Summer.” She sucked in air. He stroked his hands up and down her arms as she tugged at the cuffs, reassuring her with his touch, letting her relax into his dominance. It had been so long since she could let go, could trust someone to have control. “Okay now?” he asked gently.

  “Yes, S
ir.” He’d acknowledged her fears but didn’t yield at all. Why did his decisiveness make her feel safer with him than with someone who’d give in to her demands?

  He pulled something from the toy bag. “Let’s drive you a little crazier, since Simon was so generous.” He stepped in front of the spanking bench, amusement lightening the heat in his eyes. He opened a package of nipple clamps. “I assume you’ve worn these before?”

  Oh God, as aroused as she felt, could she take more? Each beat of her heart sent a pulse of blood to her clit.

  “Summer?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  “I’ve learned I like the way a woman’s breasts look with this kind of jewelry.” With gentle tugs, he shaped her nipple long and taut, fastened on a clamp, and tightened the small screw to the point of pain. She stiffened, staring up in his face.

  A muscle flexed in his jaw. “You can take more.” And he advanced it a tiny bit further.

  She whimpered and tensed.

  “Breathe, Summer. Breathe until the pain eases up.”

  She knew how, but without that low commanding voice caressing her, she might not have managed. A few seconds and the bite of the clamp dulled to a throb matching the one in her pussy.

  “Good girl. Now this one.”

  Uhhh, two make the pain so much worse. Needing to push him away, rip the clamps off, she jerked at her arms—uselessly. The river of awareness that she could do nothing flooded her, sweeping away her willpower. “Virgil, please…no.”

  His hand stroked her hair. “Breathe again for me, baby. Deep breath now. That’s a girl.” He had a line between his brows and his mouth had tightened, but his eyes were level on hers.

  The burn eased, and God, she needed to come so badly she shook. She squirmed.

  “Be damned. You do like some pain, don’t you.” He wasn’t asking but stating a fact. He touched her cheek. “Bend over now.”

  From kneeling upright, she leaned forward. He adjusted her so her ribs rested on the leather of the four-by-four, and her heavy breasts dangled on the other side. The clamps tugged on her nipples like someone’s sharp teeth. And each bite seared straight to her clit.