“Do. You. Understand?”
“Yes, sir,” she purred.
His gaze narrowed, but one corner of his mouth hitched in a slight smile.
“You are trouble.” His hand slid up to cup her cheek.
“I can be.”
“Oh, I bet, you little imp.”
She bit her lip to keep from saying anything else.
He leaned over her and pinched a nipple, not too hard, but enough that she arched off the bed, hissing and gripping the sheets. He let go and blood rushed back into the abused peak.
“Hmm.” He pinched the other and she whimpered. “So responsive.”
She flopped back on the bed when he released her and glared at him, but she didn’t mean it. There was something about this man that brought out the truly submissive side of her. Even in her play-addled brain she could sense that. She had played with a few who encouraged certain submissive tendencies, but never anyone who made her feel as if calling him sir, and obeying his every request and command were natural.
She’d wanted something different, a new experience, and she was getting it. There probably wasn’t another man out there who could command her body the way he did.
He stood and removed his boots. Her pulse kicked up as he reached for the zipper on his jeans. She held her breath as he pushed the denim down his hips and thighs. He wore short, black boxer briefs, and his erection strained at the fabric.
She rose to her knees, barely restraining herself from going to him.
“Did I tell you to get up?” He kicked the jeans off and came to her, pushing her back on the bed.
“No.” She smiled, which probably wasn’t the reaction he wanted, considering his dark scowl, but he excited her. He aroused her. She wanted to deepen this connection until her heart beat with his.
He straddled her thighs and pinched both nipples. She squealed and arched her back, but he pushed her back into the mattress.
“No, what?”
“No, sir.” She giggled, unable to hold it in.
He released her nipples, cupping his palms over her breasts. A smile teased his lips as he studied her.
“I didn’t want to do this, but you clearly won’t learn.” His sigh was exaggerated. She could read between the lines. He was having as much fun as she was.
He grasped her wrists and directed her to lie with her arms straight over her head. As he leaned above her to fiddle with something on the headboard, she lifted her head and kissed his chest.
He secured her wrists in leather restraints, with a bar between her hands to hold on to. As he fastened the buckle on her left wrist, he leaned down just a little more and—she captured the hard nub of his nipple between her teeth and sucked it between her lips. She felt his intake of breath.
She swirled her tongue around the tight bead and let it go. He sat up and glanced at the little teeth marks above and below the areola.
“You must like to hurt,” he said, his voice pitched low.
“I like to play.” She pulled on the restraints, testing the give, and found there was none.
He leaned down and wrapped his lips around her sensitized nipple while he plucked the other with his fingers. His teeth gently abraded the peak.
She shifted her legs under him, wanting to hold him, bring him closer.
He switched breasts and she moaned.
He sat up suddenly and she whimpered at the loss of his body heat. The cool air kissed her damp nipples, tightening them further. Goose bumps chased each other down her arms and legs. He grasped the band of her panties and pulled them down her legs.
Oh, thank goodness.
He shifted lower, until he knelt between her calves. His gaze had grown darker, the pupils dilated, giving his eyes a feral glint. Her breath caught in her throat as he slowly leaned forward, placing his hands between her thighs. Their gazes remained locked as he stretched like a cat, lowering his shoulders and head until his face was above her mound. She shifted her legs open wider, holding her breath.
Her nerves screamed for something to happen. There was something about being with a man in the first moments of sex that always made her nervous. The what-if questions ran through her mind, but louder still was the way he stared at her. There was no denying he wanted her, and that she wanted him.
He urged her thighs open wider and his gaze finally dropped. He said nothing as he spread her folds, baring her most vulnerable of places. Her heart caught in her throat and she bit her lip. Oh, she wanted his touch there, on her clit, in her channel, but it didn’t come.
“You have to watch me,” he whispered, his breath fanning the apex of her thighs.
Poppy pried one eye open and then the other, not sure when she’d closed them.
“That’s my girl.”
Their gazes locked as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss to her clit, teasing the nub with the tip of his tongue. She gasped, but didn’t tear her gaze away. She couldn’t. Even the way he stared at her held a command.
Watch me.
Two thick fingers slid into her pussy. It was a tight fit, maybe too tight.
“Damn, Rapunzel. You are going to feel so good on my cock,” he said against her mound. His lips moved over her clit, teasing her more.
Poppy gripped the bar between her hands and wrapped her thigh over his back, urging him closer. Desire coiled tightly within her abdomen, almost too much, and still she watched him.
His dark skin against hers was lovely. The way shadows played across their skin, the way his back and shoulders rippled with his movements. She’d been right in thinking that all of him was hard. Every bit of him had been honed for a purpose, and right now it was focused on her.
Deep inside her, his fingers curled and her back arched.
“Oh,” she moaned. “There.”
He flashed a grin and bent his head, wrapping his lips around her clit and rubbing it with the flat of his tongue. She moved her feet against the bed, helpless. His unspoken command kept her in place. She was going to come. There was no stopping the sensation growing in her belly. She kept her eyes on him, watched his elbow pump back and forth as she felt the rough stroke of his fingers. Her eyelids grew heavy and her toes curled.
Can’t stop watching.
Her body burst apart at the seams. Her release coursed through her veins. Her internal muscles clamped down on his fingers and she screamed as the orgasm swept over her.
He stroked her through the release, each caress drawing the pleasure out longer. He whispered words of encouragement, praised her body, told her all the dark things he wanted to do to her. Each pass of his fingers sent little shock waves of pleasure through her. Feeling boneless, she let her hands hang in the restraints and her eyes finally close. Still, she felt restless. As satisfying as the orgasm was, she wanted more. She wanted everything this man had to offer.
He eased away from her, pressing a kiss to her thigh and mound. The bed dipped as he moved. She didn’t have the energy to open her eyes, but she heard his foot hit the floor with a thud, and then the snap of elastic, followed by rustling fabric.
Yes.
She forced her eyes open and found his gaze on her, one hand stroking his cock. A part of her quaked, unsure if they would fit together. He was a large man, in every sense of the word, and his fingers alone had filled her.
He reached for something on the bedside table. She caught sight of a gold foil packet and from somewhere deep within her, a second wave of energy reinvigorated her.
She licked her lips as he rolled the condom on. Their gazed remained locked as he climbed back on the bed, his eyes gone almost entirely dark. He leaned over her until they were face to face.
“Kiss me, sir.”
“That wasn’t a request.”
“Please, sir?” She strained up toward him.
He allowed her to worship him with her mouth, but just for a moment. He dug a hand into her hair, pressed her back into the pillows, and took control of the kiss. She felt his teeth on her lips, his tongue in her mouth.
There was no escaping him, as he now controlled her body and mind.
The blunt head of his cock brushed her thigh. She arched her hips, wanting him inside of her. He answered the silent plea and positioned his penis at her entrance. He levered up, staring down at her as he thrust, easing in a few inches at a time. She whimpered as her delicate muscles stretched around his girth. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes nearly rolled back in her head. He withdrew slightly and thrust again. She exhaled as she felt his stiff flesh slide deeper.
“You are so fucking tight.” He groaned. Tendons stood out on the side of his neck and the muscles in his arms bulged.
She wrapped her thighs around him, urging him deeper. They would fit. Just a little more. He withdrew and thrust again, with a little force. Stars filled her vision as he touched nerve endings that hadn’t been stimulated in ages, maybe never. He held still, completely inside of her.
Her back arched and she panted. How she wanted to dig her fingernails into his back, that tight ass, but she had to settle for the pole. Now if he would just move.
“Keep your eyes open,” he said.
“Yes, sir.” Anything to get him to move.
He withdrew ever so slowly, until just the head of his cock was within her, before thrusting back in with the same, torturously slow pace. In and out, he stroked her. She panted and squeezed her legs around him, but it did nothing to make him move faster.
The way he stared at her, it was as if he could read her soul, as if he understood her history, the peculiarities that made her unique; as if he spoke the language of her body. He looked at her as if she were the center of the universe, as if nothing else mattered more than this moment in time. It was intimidating and invigorating all at once, to think that this beautiful man was so wholly tuned in to her desires. The slow glide of his flesh, in and out of her, sent her body coiling tight all over again. Blood roared in her ears. She could feel her release coming, like ripples stirring calm water.
He lowered to his forearms, bringing their bodies more in-line. With each thrust, each time he plunged deep, his pubic bone hit her clit, sending little tremors through her body.
“Oh. Oh!”
He sealed his mouth over hers.
He thrust deep.
She came again, colors bursting behind her eyes, stirring her spirit. His motions became rougher. He moved in and out of her like a piston, fucking her through the orgasm. He levered her up until he could get his arm under her knee, lifting her leg to change his angle, open her farther. On and on the orgasm went, tightening her internal muscles around his cock, spiraling her into the stratosphere. He thrust harder, his gaze trained on hers, drinking in her orgasm, still in complete control. The pleasure of it became too much, almost overwhelming, as if it would consume her.
The thrusts grew uneven and his muscles seemed to ripple, his body undulating against hers. All of a sudden he froze, his jaw dropped in a silent shout.
For the span of a few heartbeats they remained still, then he pitched forward, hands on either side of her. He covered her with his body from head to toe, and kissed her deeply until it felt as if their souls had twined together.
It was the closest she’d ever felt to another human being.
Too soon, he withdrew and rolled to his side, trailing his hand down her chest and stomach. She was too tired to complain, but she knew they couldn’t stay like that. Not forever. All things come to an end.
He rolled off the side of the bed, landing on his feet, and removed the condom. There was a discreet wastebasket and table set up with cleaning supplies, both for the furniture and the guests. After he cleaned himself, he returned to the bed, unbuckled the restraints, and gathered her into his arms.
Holy shit. She wanted to do that all weekend.
Chapter Five
Damien paced down the hall away from the library, blowing out a breath.
He needed to get a grip.
One play session with a woman he’d barely met shouldn’t have shredded his control, but he was one breath away from dragging her off to his suite to chain her to the wall for a weekend. Or maybe a week.
“Sir?”
Damien turned around and almost knocked over a tiny slip of a woman wearing only fishnets and leather cuffs with the silver emblem of a House Surrender slave.
“Yes?” he growled.
“You said you wanted to be notified when your phone rang.” She produced his work phone, which he’d left to be watched in case of emergencies in what passed for an office.
“Fuck my luck.” He grabbed the phone and stepped into an alcove.
Phones were not allowed out of personal rooms for reasons of privacy. A photo snapped of the wrong person at the wrong moment could damage a career. If Dom Yamamoto had his way, phones wouldn’t be allowed on the premises at all, but there were exceptions to all rules.
This was one of them.
Damien’s voice mail chimed and the one voice he didn’t want to hear started speaking.
“Damien, it’s Gio. Huck Finn is moving up the timetable a week. I need you here yesterday, and I just found out now. Call me when you get this.”
Project Huck Finn was a go?
For a moment the world stopped spinning, his heart stilled, and nothing moved.
The mission he’d been working for years to make happen was about to go down. Countless murdered souls would find rest, and he would have some measure of satisfaction in slapping the cuffs on the worst criminal to step foot in Chicago in decades.
He’d spent nights pacing his office, trying to figure out a way to hang all the crimes they knew Emilio Molina had committed around his neck.
Damien could finally tell the families of Agents Wedell and Marlowe that the scum who’d killed their children was behind bars.
It was his career’s work, wrapped up in one mission.
A woman’s too-loud, cackling laugh brought the world crashing back in around him.
He had a switch in bottom mode still flying high from their scene, a play space to clean up, and obligations to his partner. She’d told him her aftercare needs were important. Hell, she’d seemed ready to walk away if he wasn’t able to provide the kind of post-play care she needed, but he simply could not provide it. Gio would need him at their staging point immediately. There might not even be time to go home, much less bring his Rapunzel off the post–play high.
He turned toward the slave waiting to be dismissed and blew out a breath. This fucking sucked. Guilt settled around his shoulders as the plan formed in his mind.
“Okay, listen to me very carefully.”
She nodded.
“I need Dom Yamamoto. Tell him it’s an emergency in my suite. I’m also going to need my car brought around immediately. Got that?”
The girl nodded again and he had to wonder if there were springs in her neck. She looked more like a damn bobblehead than a person. The house slaves were highly trained, but all spark of personality seemed to have been snuffed out, as if they looked to Yamamoto to give them an identity.
“Can you repeat that back to me?”
She rattled the list off almost verbatim.
“Good.”
Damien stepped into the hall and stared at the large, wooden double door to the library. His rope still hung on the handle.
God, he wanted to spend the rest of the night with her wrapped around him, golden hair spread across his chest, watching her smile for no reason whatsoever. She was a burning flame, a unique flower, a precious gem, and he was leaving her. If he didn’t go now, a drug dealer personally responsible for at least two dozen deaths could escape. Damien’s gratification came second to the good he stood for.
So he did one of the hardest things he’d ever done.
Damien turned and headed for the stairs, taking them two at a time up to his suite on the top floor. Her infectious laugh followed him, beckoning him to return, but he couldn’t. If it were any other mission, he might be persuaded to put it off, to stay a bit longer. But not Hu
ck Finn. It was too personal.
His toy bag would have to be packed up by someone else, which irritated him, but more than that, he was leaving a beautiful, willing, enticing woman. It killed him.
“Sir?” a wavering voice called from the doorway to his suite.
“Not taking any play partners,” he called out, without looking over his shoulder. Yamamoto often sent single females to him when they hadn’t found another partner for the weekend.
“Dom Yamamoto sent me.”
“Where is he?” Damien paused long enough to glance over his shoulder. The woman was vaguely familiar, probably one of the slaves who had been around for quite a while.
“He can’t come to see you. A new girl redded out of a scene and there was an accident. He said he would come up here as soon as he could, but he didn’t think it would be fast enough.” The woman was poised, despite wearing only the tiniest of panties and a transparent shirt-dress thing.
Calling red was when the submissive used their safe word for stop. It was especially bad if there was also an accident. Given the nature of what they did here, that could be extremely dangerous.
“Fuck my life.” Damien groaned and rubbed his face.
What should he do?
The only thing he could.
“Wait right there.” He headed across to a small desk, and jotted down two notes.
His note to Yamamoto was little more than bullet points. The other dom would understand. Of all Damien’s kink friends, Yamamoto was the only one who understood his job and what he did. But then, that was probably because Yamamoto was in deep with another agency, the CIA. Damien had met Yamamoto when the DEA muscled in on an operation and insisted they do a joint job, which had involved a sting operation where the target had an extensive home dungeon. Damien knew the moment he saw Yamamoto who and what he was. His history was tattooed on his body; he wore his dominance like a garment. The man was more complex than probably even Damien knew.
The note to Rapunzel was more difficult to write. He stared at the blank square of paper, considering his words. How to relate all that he wanted to say in just a few sentences?
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