Anna Leigh Keaton & Madison Layle - Incognito 04 - Healing Heather

by Anna Leigh Keaton

  She moaned and lifted to him, begging for more.

  When one thick finger entered her, she cried out. A second joined the first and, together, they slowly pumped into her. All her muscles clamped down, trying to keep him seated inside her, but he kept moving. In and out, in and out.

  His tongue and lips flicked and licked and suckled her clit until she was sure she’d burst. Her hands in his hair, she pulled him to her. She thrust her hips, his whiskers driving her insane. A third finger joined the other two at the exact moment his teeth scraped her clit.

  As she pressed her head into the pillow, her hips jerked off the bed, and she screamed as the climax tore through her very soul.

  Still he didn’t stop. His fingers pumped in a hard, fast rhythm.

  Another orgasm was building. Bigger, harder than the first. She whimpered with each movement of his hand and mouth. She wasn’t sure she could survive. Her entire body tensed.

  “That’s it, Heather. Scream for me, baby. Let me hear you.”

  She did scream, but not with completion. His words triggered icy fear, and she jerked his head away from her by his hair and scrambled from the bed, landing with a hard thud on the floor.

  She surged to her feet just as he sat up and reached for her. She screamed again at his touch and backed away.

  He rolled off the bed and blocked her exit.

  She grabbed the only thing she could, the digital clock on the nightstand and, ripping the cord from the wall, she held it like a weapon. “You willna hurt me!”

  Her body was in agony and her vision blurred, but she stood her ground. He would not hurt her. She wouldn’t let him. No one was going to hurt her ever again.

  “Get your fekkin’ arse outta me house!”

  He raised his hands as if in surrender and slowly backed away. “I didn’t mean to scare you, honey.”

  “Save your ‘honeys’ for some other muppet. I’ll not fall for your devil tongue.”

  Chapter Four

  From his position across the room, Paul watched Heather’s naked body shake with fury and fear. Her chest heaved with each heavy breath, and her hand was poised to throw the clock radio at his head. Her eyes flashed with challenge, daring him to take one step closer.

  Somehow he’d scared her and that worried him, but he hadn’t hurt her. He was sure of it. She’d been in the throws of a massive orgasm, her inner muscles milking his fingers like a vise. And then she’d freaked.

  He was surprised she didn’t have a wad of his hair between her fingers as hard as she’d jerked his head away from her body.

  Her beautiful, lush, womanly body. He realized now the hospital gown and her too-large sweatshirt had hidden a lot. Her breasts were large with dark nipples. Her belly was flat, except for a slight swell below her navel that he found incredibly sexy. Her thighs were soft, her legs shapely.

  “Did ye not hear me, gobshite? Get outta me house!”

  “I heard you, Heather,” he said, keeping his voice low. Her accent had become more pronounced, and though she was throwing curses at him and no doubt calling him names, it amused him. He checked his smile and crossed his arms over his chest, leaned against the doorframe, and blocked the room’s only exit, unless she chose to climb out the window. “But you haven’t heard me and, until you listen, I’m not leaving.” She needed to know he wasn’t going to hurt her, no matter what.

  “I willna warn ye again...”

  “You’re gorgeous when you’re all spit and fire. I especially like the way your wild red hair sets off the fire in those emerald eyes.” He made a point of looking at his watch. “But can you tell me how long your snit will last?”

  She reared back and flung the clock, but the throw went wide when the pain in her side doubled her over.

  He clenched his fists as his muscles tensed, but he didn’t move, even though it went against his very nature. He longed to put his arm around her, take care of her. Ease her physical pain and eliminate her emotional distress. It nearly killed him to stand still and wait until she calmed. Until she dealt with whatever it was she needed to deal with within herself.

  She collapsed against her low dresser, one hand holding her side, her eyes pleading with him to comply. “Why will ye not go?”

  “Because you’ve mistaken me for someone else. I did not hurt you, would never harm a single hair on that pretty head of yours, and I won’t leave until you know me for who I am.” He slowly moved forward as he spoke, his hands held out, low, with palms open. He lowered his voice, as if gentling a wild mare. “What did I say that frightened you?”

  He stopped in front of her. Her gaze dropped to the floor. Her knuckles were white as she clung to the dresser. When she looked up again, her eyes were clearer, focused. “I... You... He told me to scream.”

  The bastard had done one hell of a number on her. Rage simmered under his skin, making him wish he’d been the one who’d beaten the shit out of Harold at Incognito. Screw it; death would be too simple—too quick—for this man. Slow torture might do it. To show the son of a bitch what it was like for the woman he’d terrorized. What she was stuck living with day in and day out. The emotional anguish of living with the fucker in her head.

  Unfortunately, he couldn’t waste time fantasizing about impossibilities. He had a submissive woman who’d suffered more than a bruised side because of the asshole. She tried to hide the emotional scars, but they were there, very close to the surface.

  Cautiously, he lifted her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. When she didn’t cringe from his touch, he brought his other hand up to cradle both sides of her face.

  “I’ll never ask that of you again.” He ran a thumb over her cheek. “Not all Doms are brutal bastards, Heather. Safe, sane, and consensual—that’s the creed most of us live by. The creed I live by. Whether you trust me or not, I ask that you at least believe me when I tell you that I would never betray the trust of a woman in my arms.”

  She sucked in a quick breath as moisture glistened in her eyes, and then she stepped into his arms, burying her face against his chest as she sobbed. Her tears slid down her cheeks, wetting his shirt.

  He hugged her close and rubbed her back, her shoulders. Still fully clothed, he shifted uncomfortably, but didn’t release her. Having her warm, nude body against him was a sweet torture he couldn’t push away. But her emotional needs affected him as much as the feel of her.

  He knew of subs who’d suffered unsurpassable setbacks after their masters betrayed their trust. They not only lost faith in men, but the bad experience also made them less likely to trust their own instincts. The mental scars were often worse than those that marred the flesh. He couldn’t stand to see the same occur to her.

  He held her gently, letting her get used to his touch. Her crying jag slowly eased until she hiccupped, then she let out a shaky breath and turned her head to swipe at her tears.

  He worried about pushing her, but he worried that if she didn’t move past her fears, they could destroy her. Make her live in fear of all men, especially Doms. He couldn’t let that happen. Wouldn’t.

  “I know you’ve been through a lot, Heather, that you would be reluctant to enter into another D/s relationship. If you curled up in your home and never opened the door to another man for the next century, I’d understand. However, I’d like the opportunity to remind you of what a real master can do for his submissive lover.”

  She started to shake her head. “I’m not sure I—”

  “What’s your safe word?”

  She pulled back to look up at him, her delicate hands splayed against his chest, her warmth seeping through his T-shirt. His fingers lay interlaced and motionless at the small of her back as he awaited her answer.

  Wariness was written in her expression. Her eyes were wide and filled with fear and yet, he saw longing there, too.

  “Violet,” she said softly, her gaze steady on his.

  He took her arms and stepped back, then released her so that all physical contact was gone. “I can only gi
ve you my word that you’d be safe with me, that I’m strong enough to stop the instant you utter your safe word.”

  She hunched her shoulders and crossed her arms over her middle, as if the loss of his touch left her chilled. “And if I’m not ready to obey everything you say?”

  “Then we negotiate. I have no expectations, except that I want you to trust me.” He took one of her hands and practically had to pry it away from the security of her body. Her fist was clenched, either ready to strike if needed, or out of nervousness. Massaging it until her fingers relaxed and opened, he then placed a kiss on her knuckles and heard her breath catch. “We can take things as slow or as fast as you want.”

  “You’ll stop if I ask you to?”

  “Without hesitation. Safe, sane, and consensual. Remember?” He met her gaze with a level, sincere stare, hoping—praying—he was doing the right thing for her. Then he lowered her hand and gently pressed it against his crotch to show her what she did to him. How the sight of her naked body affected him. How her sexy Irish burr turned him on in a way nothing else ever had. He wanted her, but he wanted her willingly and without fear.

  “I’m physically attracted to you, Heather, but this does not control me. You can call things off at anytime.”

  She pulled back, and he released her hand immediately. On a quivery breath, she whispered, “Okay.”

  He gave her a smile, and said, “Just so we’re on the same page, my safe word is, whoa.”

  She blinked, obviously confused.

  He looked pointedly at the corpse that once was an alarm clock. “I thought I’d share that with you just in case your aim improves.”

  Her lips trembled an instant before bursting into a smile. With a chuckle, she playfully nudged his shoulder with hers. He grinned at her, then let his gaze slide over her body, which silenced her giggles and made her chew on her lush pink lip.

  “You almost called me Master once. Would that still make you uncomfortable?”

  She stared at him for so long he thought she might not answer, but then she lowered her gaze and whispered, “No, Master.”

  He couldn’t hold back the smile that curved his lips at the sound of her calling him Master with such a sweet Irish lilt, softly rolling the r. Tugging his T-shirt free of his jeans, he lifted it over his head and noticed her peeking at him through her thick auburn lashes.

  From the way her breath sucked in, making her breasts rise, and the subtle puckering of her dusky nipples, he knew she liked what she saw.

  “Assist me with my pants, woman.” Despite his effort, the command was laced with more amusement than authority, but she followed the order anyway.

  Unfortunately, his words condemned him to an exquisite torture as his little sub took her own sweet time unfastening the belt buckle. She deliberately teased, he was sure, as the back of her hands repeatedly brushed against his erection. By the time he felt the slide of the zipper, his jaw ached from having clenched his teeth in carnal frustration, and he throbbed like a pubescent with the prom queen behind the bleachers.

  He shoved his pants down, breathed a sigh of relief as his cock sprang free, and silently congratulated himself for having taken his boots off earlier.

  “On the bed with you,” he said with a grin. She scampered into the middle of the king-sized mattress. She winced a bit when she moved too fast for her sore side to handle, and he silently vowed to take his time to ensure she felt no pain, only pleasure.

  “Lie on your back.”

  “Aye, Master.”

  While she got into position, he dug through his pants pocket for his wallet and took out a condom packet—his only condom packet. He’d have to remember to buy more as soon as possible. Rolling the latex onto his cock, he watched her for any signs of uncertainty or fear. When he saw none, he crawled onto the bed and reclined along side her.

  She remained motionless, her deep green eyes gazing into his as he slowly ran his hand from her thigh, over the dips and curves of her smooth abdomen, up her body to settle over one plump breast. Her nipple puckered to a hard bead beneath his palm.

  “They’re beautiful.” He looked at her, trying to memorize every inch of her lovely face, tracing the scattered pattern of her freckles. He thought he could drown in her bright emerald eyes if he let himself. He wanted to. “You’re beautiful.”

  She smiled, and he leaned forward to capture it with a kiss. He’d meant it to be a soft caress of lips, but it quickly became much more. She tasted of mint and passion, and his hunger for more became unbearable.

  As his tongue tasted and teased, he slid his fingers over her navel, laid his hand against the silky smooth skin below it, then inched lower to tease her damp curls. She made a sound. A whimper or moan, he couldn’t tell, but when she sucked his tongue into her mouth, he answered with a groan and slowly curled his finger through her pubic hair to stroke her slick, hot flesh.

  Her hips lifted in silent demand for more. As his mouth ate at hers, twining her tongue with his, he circled her clit with soft strokes of one finger. Her breath hitched. Little erotic pleas that couldn’t be ignored came from her in wordless need.

  He slid a finger into her channel, and her muscles clamped around it. She was so sweet, so responsive. And she was so wet. When he slipped a second finger inside her, she sighed into his mouth and raised her hand to touch his cheek. Such an innocent response that made him burn with more than lust.

  He slid in a third finger, and her hips rose to meet each measured thrust of his hand. With his thumb, he returned to her clit and gave it special care as he stroked in and out, shallow and deep.

  Her breathing grew harsh, panting; yet she didn’t pull away from his mouth. If anything she attacked it with fervor. Her sharp little teeth nipped at his bottom lip; her tongue delved deeper as if she could devour him.

  She moaned and thrust her hips when he increased the pressure of each stroke on her clit. He pumped his fingers farther into her and ignored his own body’s needs as it begged him to do the same to her with his cock.

  And then, the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen happened. Her mouth pulled from his. Her back arched, body bowing, and her hooded gaze kept his captured while her body shuddered and she gave a soft cry as she climaxed. Her slick juices coated his hand, and her inner muscles squeezed him.

  He nearly came just watching her, feeling her, hearing her let go of her inhibitions and fears.

  He slowed his strokes, lightened the pressure on her clit, and soothed her until her body relaxed and the euphoric haze lifted from her eyes.

  A slow, sexy smile tipped her lips, and she sighed. “Thank you, Master.”

  Everything he’d done so far had been for her, and to hear her softly murmured gratitude made it worthwhile. But his own body ached with a need as of yet unfulfilled.

  “I’m not done with you, yet, Heather,” he nearly growled. He was so damn hard that he physically hurt with each heavy beat of his heart, but he hoped his honest admission wouldn’t scare her. Was she ready to go further?

  God, I hope so.

  Her eyes sparkled as she grinned. “I should hope not, Master.”

  It took him a second to realize she’d replied to his statement and not his thoughts, but when he did, his spirit soared. He did growl then as he flopped onto his back. “Come here, woman. Straddle me.”

  She did, and he gripped her hips, but he reminded himself to go slow. Be gentle. Her fingers bit into his biceps as he lifted her over his engorged length and settled the tip at her heated opening.

  He met her gaze, held it, and asked, “Ready for me, Heather?”

  “Aye, Master.”

  Careful of her side, he slowly lowered her onto his throbbing cock, inch by excruciating inch. Her nails left little crescents on his arms. Her inner muscles gripped him hard. Her heat and softness were nearly unbearable. Once fully seated, he held her in place so he could catch his breath and rein in what was left of his tattered control. No woman had ever done this to him. Inside or outside a D/s rel
ationship, he’d always maintained the upper hand, was a master at control.

  But this woman shattered him.

  Gentle, he reminded himself again. He must do nothing to frighten her. He decided to allow her some command for their first time, and let go of her hips to run his hands down her smooth thighs, then back up. Careful to avoid the big purple bruise on her side, he cupped her breasts in his palms.

  “Ride me, Heather.”

  Obviously surprised by his order, she hesitated, but then gradually started moving on him. He ground his teeth to avoid snatching her around the waist, reversing their positions, and pounding into her until they both screamed in sated relief. She moved with an innocence and timidity that drove him crazy and heightened his arousal to atmospheric altitudes.

  Her breathing became shallow. His was almost nonexistent as she slowly and thoroughly rode him into a state of erotic insanity.

  He kneaded her breasts, watching the pebbles stiffen. He flicked her nipples with his fingertips and ordered, “Harder, honey. Faster. Damn, that’s...oh, yeah.”

  She bounced on him, and his hips jerked upward to meet her. She yelped and for an instant, he feared he’d jarred her side, but when he looked up, her head was thrown back and her mouth open in a silent cry.

  The sight was too much. She was too beautiful. His little Irish goddess. As her body trembled and contracted around him, milking his cock like a tight, hot fist, his own release could no longer be stymied. With a shout of her name, he spilled into her with a force he hadn’t known possible.

  * * * * *

  Heather didn’t think she’d ever be able to move again. Lying on Paul’s wide chest, she didn’t want to move as the scent of sex and musk invaded her brain. His arms surrounded her. His big, warm hands rubbed her back and bottom. She must have died and gone to heaven. The massive orgasm had killed her.

  She sighed in contentment. It wasn’t often she’d been granted her own pleasures with the men she’d slept with over the past couple of years. Most sought their own release and never worried about seeing to hers.