Dark Submissive (Dark Masters Book 2)

by Shana Vanterpool

  I spun her around in front of me. “Hold on to the bar.”

  She gripped the edge of the counter. I stood up and stood behind her, palming her ass roughly. I dug my nails into her cheeks, spreading them apart so I could see her tight little asshole. I dropped to my knees. I leaned close and stroked my tongue over her hole. She moaned above me, husky and erotically. She arched her back, giving me her ass completely.

  I pulled back and spanked her ass hard. She exhaled in pleasure, the way I did after going hours seeing her. In acute relief. Her pale ass turned a beautiful shade of pink. I spanked her other side, letting my hand drop roughly on her smooth pale flesh until both of her pert little cheeks were glowing the color of her diamond ring. I stood up, pulled my cock free, and then eased the dripping tip of my cock into her tight ass.

  “Rub your clit as I take your ass,” I ordered. “I’m hungry.”

  She laughed throatily, and her hand dipped between her thighs. I pictured her fingers rubbing her sensitive clit fast as I stretched her ass with my cock. I pumped into her. When we came, it was together. Loud, gruff, and hot.

  I cleaned her up in the bathroom and then we both returned to breakfast like nothing happened. We ate together, going over the list of changes the realtor I hired to sale the house had supplied to make selling it easier. I wasn’t raising my kid in a house I’d taken submissive’s in. We’d move into the cottage mansion on the edge of the Oregon coast and raise him or her with the ocean as their playground. We would raise it without darkness.

  Innocence deserved only light.

  2. – Miya

  Heartburn was evil.

  I groaned, rubbing my chest, as I made my way to class that morning. My baby bump was barely noticeable in my sweater, but I felt like it should be huge, for all the turmoil it was causing my body. Horniness that never went away, heartburn that felt like fire, and nausea that only attacked me when there was oil anywhere near my food. Which was ironic since we were doing an entire unit on fried doughs in cooking class right now.

  As I dressed in my chef’s coat and put my hair in my net, I felt a flurry of excitement that was so bone deep it was healing. I never had a family growing up, didn’t know love until Jaxon. I’d been neglected, forgotten, and abused as a child. Now I was in love, had fought to be where I was, and I was going to be a mother. It felt like I was winning at all the things that had ever hurt me.

  And I would not, under any circumstances, let anything get in my way.

  And that included Jaxon’s fears. Somewhere along the lines he’d become transparent. His fears were as dark in his eyes as his monster used to be. He was terrified from the bones of his soul. I understood that, but he’d done amazing things, persevered through pain and neglect, and I had no doubt that the incredible man he was today would have no trouble being a father.

  And if all else failed, I’d tie him down and make him play peek-a-boo until his eyes exploded.

  The scent of heated oil attacked me the moment I stepped foot inside of the kitchens. The head chef was already at the front of the room. I settled at my station just as my phone buzzed. I already knew who it was, and pulled my phone out with a scowl, glaring at the text message.

  Jaxon: How are you?

  Breathing in patience, I texted back as sweetly as I could.

  Me: I’m fucking fine.

  I rubbed my temple, the scent of oil making me so nauseous I couldn’t see straight.

  Jaxon: I’m going to ignore your comment and chalk it up to the fact that you’re probably surrounded by hot greasy oil right now, and you’re five seconds away from puking up breakfast. I put some ginger ale in your purse, along with crackers, and gum. If you need me to come pick you up, I’ll be there, baby.

  I didn’t get the chance to respond. I made a dash for the double-swinging doors and burst into the hall, running for the bathrooms. I kicked the door open and then the stall nearest me, and sank to my knees, puking wildly into the toilet as the scent of oil turned my stomach repeatedly.

  By the time I made it back to class, they were already prepping their empanada doughs. I gratefully looked in my bag and pulled out the still cool can of ginger ale Jaxon packed, and drank it down, on the edge of tears. Sometimes I loved him so much I could scream. Other times, I loved him so much I could cry. But I loved him so much, and that was the part that mattered. I ate the crackers next, and then finished off my ginger ale. I felt half better and had enough time to get started on my dough.

  But the wind had been blown out of my sails. I wanted this degree in culinary arts. I wanted the same in business. I wanted to own a dessert shop, so Jaxon and I could spend the rest of our lives eating bubblegum macaroons, sipping sweet lattes, as our baby was surrounded by nothing but sweetness.

  It was a fixation. Raising a child around brightly colored confections. Silly maybe, it filled my heart with joy and longing. I’d grown up with people who stripped me of my power, who shattered my heart, and made me so empty there was a time I didn’t have a single clue how to smile. I wanted to raise my child around sugar and spice and everything beautiful.

  I needed that too.

  Jaxon probably didn’t want to be surrounded by sugar or spice, but he still needed it.

  We needed to heal.

  Wiping away my tears, I stared down at my limp dough morosely. How much longer could I keep my dream alive before I had to quit? To give in to Jaxon’s doting and put my feet up?

  Maybe this was all a dream, and I was going to wake up two years ago, back in Jaxon’s basement, right before he painted my empty world with darkness and dripping pink rose petals.

  Waging through that darkness gave me the prospects of so much light, it was blinding.

  As soon as I made it out to my car that afternoon after cooking class, my phone rang. I smiled through my mood, and brought the phone to my ear with a quiet, “Hello?”

  “Hello? Do I need to say it’s me? Or do you have other men calling your cell phone?” Jaxon stated.

  I sank down into the front seat of my BMW, staring at it in dismay the same way I always did. I loved the car, but it was so flashy and sleek. But Jaxon was getting harder and harder to thwart. “Oh, is this Jaxon? Fiancé number one?”

  He grumbled. “At least I’m number one. How are you?”

  “Nauseas and hungry.”

  He gave a short laugh. “That’s gonna be hard to fix. I have time for lunch. I’ll meet you down the street from my office? You know the place.”

  He hadn’t asked me.

  He told me.

  “You’re getting bossy. I only like it when you’re bossy when I’m naked.”

  “My deepest apologies, Miya. I sound like your master, don’t I, angel? Will you please grant me the gift of being in your presence for lunch?”

  I glared out the front window. “Condescending handsome jerk.”

  He chuckled. “Get your ass over here. We can skip lunch if you want? I can eat your sweet little pussy on my desk if you’d like. Might cure your nausea.”

  My panties dampened. I ached from so deep inside, I knew the only thing that would cure it was to feel his thick cock stretching me from the inside out. I needed to be connected to him in order to feel grounded. I’d lived through two years without him. I wouldn’t last anymore time apart.

  “Are you wet?” he purred.

  “So wet,” I exhaled.

  “Mmm. Get here. Now. Safely,” he added.

  I hung up and tossed my phone into the cup holder. It was the end of winter on the calendar, but it was still strong in Portland. The streets were thick of ice and traffic. By the time I made it to Jaxon’s office, I was a panting woman in heat.

  I marched to his office, ignored his secretary Callie—who glared every time she saw me—and pushed his office door open to find him sitting back and waiting. He was wearing all black except his button down. That was a deep, rich charcoal.

  “Lock the door,” he told me levelly.

  I turned the lock, waiting on my
next order.

  He pushed back in his office chair and patted the lip of his desk. “Take everything off from the waist down and park your pussy right here.”

  I felt a burst of emotion. “Please tell me it can be this way all the time? I feel like I’m in heaven, but my heart’s used to hell. Promise me, Jaxon.”

  Softness, a shade brighter than I had ever seen it, entered his dark, unfathomable eyes. “Forever, my angel.”

  On shaky legs, I did what he told. I took my boots off, and then my slacks and panties. I walked between his legs and the desk and then rose to place my ass on the cool surface of the desktop. He patted the arms of his office chair. I placed both heels onto either side on the arms, baring my pussy to my beautiful monster.

  He was my beautiful monster.

  Man in all the ways he was brutal. Strong in all the ways I was weak. Sweet when I was sour. Protective when I was brave. I loved him with everything inside of me. We’d been through so much, and so much still to come. I was lost completely when I met his eyes and saw the same chaotic love burning in his eyes.

  “Lunch time,” he murmured, spreading my thighs apart. He ducked his head and immediately began kissing me. He kissed my clit tenderly, making out with my sensitive bud until I was panting above him. He kissed my pussy all over, delicately sliding his tongue across the tiny gap between my lips and my opening. I shivered.

  “I love your pussy,” he said, his low voice vibrating my soul. “She’s so sweet, like honey and roses, and she’s so tight, like a warm pink hug.” His eyes drifted up and latched onto mine. “Cover your mouth.”

  I whimpered, slapping my hand over my mouth a second before he sent his tongue over my clit. I sagged into a bundle of ecstasy. He stroked my clit so good; hot excitement dripped out of me and onto his desk. He sucked my clit between his lips, and then he licked it at the same time he sucked, biting down when I was at my highest point.

  I came so fucking hard I saw rose petals behind my eyes. The glint of my diamond wedding ring on the edge of my vision. Happiness finally on the horizon. And when I thought I was as high as I could get, he urged two fingers inside me, and stroked my vaginal walls in a tight damaging circle, teasing that special spot inside of me as his tongue, teeth, and lips worked my clit.

  He wrecked me.

  I dropped my hand from my mouth and moaned at the horizon of good on the edge of my orgasm.

  “I want to stretch your little pussy. Make you sore so you think of me the rest of the day.” He inserted a third finger, rubbing my plush damp walls. “You want that? You want to feel your pussy ache because of me?”

  I let out a garbled moan of assent, watching his large fingers work in and out of my pussy.

  He worked a forth finger into me, and the moment he managed to get it in, it burned and stretched me to the point of pain. I watched in a daze as he slowly and methodically moved his fingers in a circle, stretching and massaging my tight walls.

  “Does it hurt?” He kissed my thigh, nipping at my soft skin.

  “Yes,” I whispered, on the edge of another orgasm.

  “How badly?”

  I hissed when he pressed deeper, my orgasm building. “Harder,” I begged. Just hurt me. Love me. Take me.

  He gave me what I wanted, stretching my tight hole beyond belief. It felt like when he took my virginity, like I would tear and explode all at once. But he was so calm. Intent. Hauntingly beautiful. I came in a fit of jerky movements and illegible words. My fingertips clawed at his desk. My moans scraped my throat. My pussy burned and danced in wonder. And then he pulled my clit back into his mouth, and I crumbled completely and perfectly.

  When I came to, he was pulling his cock from his slacks. He took hold of him in his fist, and then brought him close to my core. He stroked the head of his cock up and down my slit, coating his crown in my clear juices. He’d hurt me right now. I was raw and sore and tender. I almost came in response to the though, in the perfect place of pain and pleasure with my monster.

  He entered me gently until I was engorged by his massive length. My mouth opened in a soundless gasp and stayed that way. I made no sound as he fucked me, slow and deep, on his office desk. I stared into his eyes. Dove into the dark and incredible parts of his soul. His soul was mine. My soul was his. They had to be together to feel this whole.

  His hips stilled, and his hot load filled my insides, soothing the sore parts. He growled in my ear and pressed his face into my shoulder, riding out his orgasm.

  I walked out of his office flushed and high, grinning from ear-to-ear, and sore every single step of the way.

  ***

  I stared down the basement steps.

  It was almost eight-thirty. The house smelled of rosemary and garlic from the lamb roast I’d been cooking for dinner that night.

  I took the stairs into the basement, my pussy deliciously sore. I flipped on the lights and stared down the place I’d been rebirthed. Not all births are easy and sweet. Some are created in the dark, and every step out was seeking the light.

  Jaxon wanted to sale this house. I didn’t. We were born and connected here. How could we leave it?

  I wouldn’t argue with him, though. He wanted to leave the past behind. I would simply remember it for him. I turned the light off and went back upstairs to finish cooking dinner. When he got home, I was taking the roast out of the oven. Roasting food helped cut back on the oil.

  “Smells amazing,” he announced, ripping at his tie. He flung it over the back of the chair, and then he came for me. He cradled my face between his hands and stared at me, into me, a moment before he kissed me good.

  “Sex,” I whispered against his lips.

  He grinned against mine. “Not too sore?”

  In response, I stroked him through his pants. His length was long and hard. I grinned. He ripped at my clothes, I ripped at his—we connected on the kitchen counter, much rougher and harder than we had in his office. We ate dinner naked at the kitchen table, drinking ginger ale and stuffing fresh rolls and green beans in our mouths along with the roast.

  I was fed.

  I was sated.

  I was loved.

  And I was hopeful for a chance in the light with my monster.

  3. – Jaxon

  Sleep evaded me.

  Every night I closed my eyes, I saw all the ways I could fail.

  Every morning Miya opened her eyes, I saw all the ways I had to win.

  The larger her belly grew, the larger my fears became. The more I wanted my own mother. I realized what I needed to do. I had to close that door on her. She broke me, she created me, and she ruined me, but she was a part of me, and I had to rip her out of my soul, or I’d worry my entire life that I would become her. My child didn’t deserve that. No one did. And neither had I.

  I had to let my past go. The horrors. The mistakes. The darkness dripping from my fingertips. How could I touch my child and leave a smudge of it on their smooth, unblemished flesh?

  Miya watched me that morning. I wasn’t a good liar. I rarely did so anyway, so maybe that was why she was looking at me funny. She knew I was up to something. I gave her a tired grin at breakfast and sipped my coffee as she studied me over her mug of tea.

  “Why do you look funny?” she asked.

  I shrugged. “I always thought I looked handsome beyond belief. And here I am looking funny.”

  She made a cute face, her lips curling up in disgust. “Beyond belief? Maybe I’ll make you some humble pie in class today. You can eat it in front of the mirror.”

  My lips twitched, and my lie almost came out. “Naked?”

  “Sure. Just don’t get any of it on your penis. I like how cocky he is.” Her eyes danced.

  I laughed, shocked by her brashness. And turned on. My cock twitched at the idea of her loving him. It was hard to work oral into my sex life. I probably would always think twice about it. But at least I was willing to contemplate the prospect of her lips wrapped around my shaft.

  Contemplation c
ounted for something, right?

  My monster gave me the finger.

  She dropped the act. “What are you not telling me?”

  I sighed; may as well get it out. “I’m going to find my mother today.”

  She sat back, slightly stunned. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “Because I don’t want you to come.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because you’re pregnant. You’re mine. You’re my safe place. I don’t want her anywhere near my children,” I revealed, hating myself for admitting that out loud. It was one thing to think it to myself. Letting it out meant I had to do something. It meant I had to let her go. That hurt, so fucking much, I could hardly breathe. “I’m going to find her, and I’m going to tell my mother goodbye, once and for all.”

  I pushed my chair back and loosened my tie. It was hard to breathe.

  Her soft, blue eyes pierced my hard, black soul. “I want to be there.”

  “No.” I wasn’t budging. “I have to do this on my own. I want to think of you here as you are now. Beautiful and sweet. Untainted. I need that to get through this.”

  “Why are you doing this now?”

  “Because I want to cut all ties to my past, so they don’t get tangled in our future. My child won’t feel how I felt growing up, Miya. They won’t know isolation, abandonment, abuse, and heartache. They won’t!” I growled, slamming my fist down. “Let me do this.” I got up and went around the table. I bent down to kiss her shocked lips. “I love you. I’ll see you when I get home from work?”

  She nodded. “You’re strong.”

  “Miya,” I warned.

  “You’re brave.”

  “Miya.”

  “You’re beautiful.”

  “Miya.”

  “You’re mine.”

  I reached for the door handle.

  “You are bigger than your pains!” she called out when I stepped outside. “You’re everything!”

  I sank down in the front seat of my car and spent the majority of my morning tracking down my mother. I tried the warehouse where she slept, but she wasn’t there, and hadn’t been there for quite some time. I searched behind back alleys, put the word out there, and then did what I always did. I waited. Tapping my fingers on the steering wheel. Pacing the lot where I was parked, and waited near Forest Park and the Northwest Industrial Area. The Willamette River was to my back, and the manufacturing companies were to my front. Green of nature clashed with the cold silver of metal. The sun dipped below the trees. My stomach was gnawingly empty. My heart was sick.