The_Submissive - Tara Sue Me

by Erotic Romance

  He moved to the other side, starting gently, but gradually increasing his force until it became too much. I lifted my chest toward him without shame. If he kept up, I’d climax from his mouth alone. He continued his assault on my nipples while dipping a hand lower. Roughly his fingers pressed against me, working their way down my body to where my legs were spread, open and waiting for him. His fingers rubbed harshly and I pushed against him, needing friction, needing something.

  His fingers and mouth left, and I groaned as the cool air rushed in against my body. The bed shifted again and I felt him straddle me. His hard, thick length touched the valley between my breasts.

  He thrust against me. “Do you think you’re ready, Abigail? Because I’m tired of waiting. Are you ready?” He thrust again. “Answer me!”

  “Yes, Master. Please. Yes.”

  He lifted his hips and I felt his tip at my mouth. “Kiss my cock. Kiss it before it fucks you.”

  I pressed my closed lips against him and that’s all I meant to do. Really. But I felt a drop of liquid at his tip and I couldn’t help it—I stuck my tongue out and licked it off.

  Nathaniel drew in a sharp breath through his teeth and lightly slapped my cheek. “I didn’t tell you to do that.”

  Some part of me rejoiced that I’d made a slight crack in his carefully controlled demeanor, but then he moved down my body and lifted my hips with one hand and I didn’t care about anything except what he was about to do. Every nerve ending I had tingled.

  Slowly, he pressed into me and I groaned.

  Yes!

  He pushed more and I was stretched and filled. More than I’d ever been. He moved slowly, inching his way inside, until it got uncomfortable.

  He wasn’t going to fit.

  “Damn,” he said.

  I sensed him move up. He took my hips in both hands and rocked back and forth, working his way in deeper.

  “Move with me.”

  I lifted my hips and felt him slide in another inch. We both moaned. He gave a rough push and thrust in completely.

  Beneath the blindfold, my eyes rolled to the back of my head.

  He pulled out a bit and slid back in. Testing. Teasing. But I was finished with teasing. I needed more. I lifted my hips when he pushed in again.

  “You think you’re ready?” he asked. Before I could answer, he pulled almost all the way out, leaving me empty and wanting. He took a deep breath and slammed back into me, pulling out immediately.

  I pulled against the restraints, frustrated, when he didn’t return. And then he did. Again and again and again. Pushing me deeper into the bed with each thrust. I answered each one by lifting my hips to get more of him inside, wanting him even deeper. Wanting it even harder.

  I felt my climax building with each slam of his body into mine. He moved above me, his hands holding my hips in an iron grasp.

  “Come when you want,” he panted, thrusting again, and I came apart in a million pieces.

  He thrust deeper inside and held still, muscles shaking as he released into me. A few more quick thrusts and I came again.

  Slowly, his breathing returned to normal.

  Slowly, I came back to earth.

  Hungry hands moved up my body. He pushed my hair aside and whispered in my ear.

  “One.”

  He unbound my legs for our second time, though he left the blindfold on. He said he could go even deeper with my legs wrapped around him, and even though I knew he had lots more experience than I did, I wanted to tell him going deeper was physically impossible.

  Good thing I kept that to myself, because when he entered me a second time and wrapped my legs around his waist, he did go deeper. He hit spots I didn’t even know I had.

  I was breathless when he moved off the bed. He rustled beside me. I still couldn’t see anything, but I turned my head in his direction.

  He unbound my arms and took off the scarf. “You’ll sleep in my room tonight, Abigail. I’ll take you again at some point during the night and I don’t want to be troubled with walking down the hall.” He waved at the floor. “I made you a pallet.”

  Was he insane? He wanted me to sleep on the floor? I cocked an eyebrow at him.

  “Do you have a problem with my order?”

  I shook my head and, minutes later, fell asleep in between the cool sheets he’d laid out for me beside his bed.

  “Wake up, Abigail.”

  It could have been hours or minutes later. I wasn’t sure. It was still dark—only one candle lit the room.

  “Hands and knees on the bed. Quickly.”

  I scurried on top of the bed, still half-asleep, and positioned myself.

  “Lean on your elbows.”

  I dropped to my elbows.

  Two strong hands rubbed my backside and pushed my legs further apart. “You were tight the other way, but you’ll be even tighter like this.”

  Damn him and his sensual mouth. I was wide awake within seconds.

  His hands moved to my back, up to my shoulders and around my chest to roll my nipples. He gave each one a hard tug. His hands traveled back down to the spot where I pulsed for him and he dipped a finger in lightly. The finger traveled to my backside and ran around my smaller hole.

  I gasped.

  He pushed against it. “Has anyone ever taken you here before?”

  He knew the answer. It was on my checklist. I shook my head anyway, though, unable to speak. I wasn’t sure I was ready for that.

  “I will,” he promised.

  Every muscle I had tensed.

  “Soon,” he said, dropping his finger, and I let out a shaky breath. Soon, maybe, but not immediately.

  He guided himself to where I was wet and ready. His hands made their way to my head and he wrapped my hair around his wrists. His length pushed inside me as he pulled back on my hair. The delicious feel of him filling me was too much, paired with the sharp tug on my head. I let out a sigh of pleasure.

  He pulled out and slammed back inside with a hard thrust of his hips and a quick jerk of my hair. Over and over, and he was right, I was tighter. I felt every inch of him. Every thrust forced him deeper inside and pushed my knees into the mattress. I grabbed on to the sheets and rocked my hips up and back to meet him. He groaned.

  The familiar tingle of impending release built up and my body screamed with the intensity of it. Or it might have been me. I couldn’t tell. Didn’t care.

  Nathaniel gave one last thrust and I yelled with the force of my climax. He quickly followed, releasing into me with a grunt.

  I fell on top of the bed, panting. I might have dozed.

  I came fully awake when he flipped me over and pushed his hips in my face. “Round four, Abigail.”

  He was already half-hard. It shouldn’t have been possible. Damn. What time was it? I turned my head to see if there was a clock beside the bed.

  “Look at me.” He turned my head back to his cock.

  “I’m your concern right now. Me and what I tell you. And right now I want you to serve me with your mouth.”

  I opened my mouth, showing my willingness. And later, when he’d released into me for the fourth time and lay on top of me gasping, I smiled.

  I knew I’d served him well.

  CHAPTER

  EIGHT

  I woke to the feel of sunlight on my skin and blinked a few times in confusion. Where was I? I glanced to my right and saw the massive bed above me. Right. On the floor. By Nathaniel’s bed.

  I stretched my legs and groaned. I ached in places I didn’t know I had and a few I’d long ago forgotten. I tentatively got to my feet and took a few steps. I’d give my right arm and part of my left for a bathtub, but it looked as though I’d have to make do with a hot shower.

  After a long, thorough shower, I hobbled into the kitchen. Nathaniel sat at the table, my table, glued to his phone, texting or emailing, I supposed. He looked perfectly fine.

  Biology totally screwed women.

  Literally.

  “Rough night?�
�� he asked, not even bothering to look at me.

  What the hell, he was at my table, I could speak honestly. “You could say that again.”

  “Rough night?” he asked again, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.

  I poured my coffee and stared at him.

  He was teasing me. I could barely walk, my back ached from sleeping on the damn floor, it was all his fault, and he was teasing me?

  It was sweet in some sort of sick, twisted way.

  I snatched a blueberry muffin from the counter and took a cautious seat. I wasn’t able to hide my wince.

  “You need protein,” he said.

  “I’m fine,” I answered, taking a bite of muffin.

  “Abigail.”

  I stood up, hobbled over to the refrigerator, and took out a pack of bacon. Damn. Now I had to cook.

  “I put two boiled eggs in the warming oven for you.” His eyes followed me as I put the bacon away and retrieved my eggs. “The ibuprofen is on the first shelf, second cabinet beside the microwave.”

  I was pathetic. He was probably wishing he’d never collared me. “I’m sorry. It’s just…been a long time.”

  “What a ridiculous thing to apologize for,” he said. “I’m more upset over your attitude this morning. I didn’t have to let you sleep in.”

  I sat back down and hung my head.

  “Look at me,” he commanded. “I have to leave. Meet me in the foyer dressed for the benefit and ready to leave at four-thirty.”

  I nodded.

  He stood up. “There’s a large tub in the guestroom across the hall from yours. Make use of it.”

  And just like that, he was gone.

  I felt more human after a long soak and some ibuprofen. After drying off, I brewed a cup of tea, sat at the kitchen table, and called Felicia.

  “Hey,” I said when she answered.

  “Abby,” she replied. “I didn’t know you were allowed phone calls.”

  “It’s not like that.”

  “So you keep saying,” she said in that I-don’t-give a-shit-what-you-say-I’m-not-going-to-believe-you voice. “Of course, since you’re by yourself, it’s not like you have anything better to do.”

  It wasn’t often Felicia caught me off-guard. “How’d you know I was by myself?”

  “Jackson said he was playing golf and having lunch with Nathaniel and some Todd guy before the benefit tonight. Of course, you’re probably on a need-to-know basis with Nathaniel, so you wouldn’t have known.”

  I could hear her smug smile through the phone and I wondered why on earth I’d thought it was a good idea to call Felicia in the first place.

  “We didn’t have much time together this morning,” I said offhanded, like I couldn’t care less why Nathaniel hadn’t told me where he was going. It was a lie on my part—it hurt for some reason. “And remember, Jackson doesn’t know about Nathaniel’s—”

  “Honestly, Abby, your kinky sex life isn’t anyone’s idea of appropriate first-date conversation.”

  The front door opened and closed.

  “I have to go, Nathaniel’s back,” I said, thrilled to have a reason to hang up and thrilled Nathaniel was back.

  “Are you sure?” she asked, interested for the first time. “It’s far too soon—and Jackson said he’d call when they finished and I haven’t heard from him.”

  “Got to go. Bye.” I ended the call, right as someone walked into the kitchen.

  It wasn’t Nathaniel.

  A tall, willowy woman with short brown hair and red eyeglasses looked at me in shock. An expression that probably matched my own.

  “Oops,” she said. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”

  “Who are you?” I asked, certain that if Nathaniel had expected someone to stop by he would have mentioned it.

  “Elaina Welling,” she said holding a hand out. “My husband, Todd, and Nathaniel go way back.”

  I shook her hand. “Abby King. I’m sorry, Nathaniel didn’t mention anyone stopping by.”

  She held up the black satin evening bag in her hand. “I forgot to bring this by when I dropped off the dress.” Her eyes locked on my choker and, I swear, she gave a sly smile.

  “Would you like some tea?” I asked.

  “Yes,” she said, sitting down. “I think I would.”

  I poured her a cup and we chatted pleasantly. After only fifteen minutes, I felt as if I’d known her forever. Elaina was the kindest, most down-to-earth person I’d talked to in a long time. She’d moved into the Clarks’ neighborhood before high school and Linda had become a surrogate mom to her. Hearing that Elaina lost her own mother as a child somehow made me feel even closer to her. When I spoke of my mom’s passing four years ago, Elaina nodded, took my hand, and simply said, “You’ll always miss her, but I promise it gets easier.”

  During our conversation, I noticed her eyes drift to my collar several times, but she never said anything about it. I wondered briefly if Nathaniel had lied when he said his family and friends didn’t know about his lifestyle, but quickly decided he wasn’t the type to lie.

  Nearly half an hour had passed without our realizing it when Elaina looked at her phone and gave a little cry. “Oh no, look at the time! We need to get busy if we aren’t going to be late.” She kissed me on the cheek as she left and promised we’d talk more at the benefit.

  I have an active imagination, and when I first tried to imagine the gown Nathaniel would have me wear, I’ll admit my thoughts drifted toward leather and lace. But the gown waiting for me on my bed was gorgeous. A one-of-a-kind design I’d never have been able to afford with a two-year advance on my salary. Black satin, with a low gathered neck and delicate shoulder straps; form-fitting without being vulgar or revealing. It was floor-length and flared just a bit at the bottom. I loved it.

  I normally didn’t wear make-up, but Felicia Kelly was my best friend and she never passed a cosmetic counter without stopping, so I knew a thing or two about proper application. With my hair swept up off my shoulders in the best up-style I could manage, I looked in the mirror. “Not too bad, Abby,” I said to myself. “I think you might manage to make an appearance without embarrassing yourself or Nathaniel.”

  One quick stop in my bedroom to slip on the heels and I was off. Down the stairs to meet Nathaniel in the foyer, and, I’d admit, giddy as a teenager on her first date.

  I stepped into the foyer and stopped.

  Nathaniel waited with his back to me. He had a long, black wool overcoat on. A dark scarf was tucked around his neck and his hair brushed the collar. He turned around when he heard me.

  I’d seen Nathaniel in jeans and I’d seen Nathaniel in a suit. But there wasn’t a sight on this earth that compared to Nathaniel in a tuxedo.

  “You look beautiful,” he said.

  “Thank you, Master,” I managed to choke out.

  He held out a black wrapper. “Shall we?”

  I nodded and when I walked to him, it was as if I walked on air. I wasn’t sure how he did it, but he actually made me feel beautiful.

  He draped the wrapper around me, hands lightly brushing my shoulders. Unbidden, images of last night flashed through my head. I remembered those hands. Remembered what they’d done to my body.

  There was no other way to describe it, I decided as we walked outside—I was nervous. Nervous about being seen in public with Nathaniel. He’d said once he wasn’t into public humiliation. I hoped that meant he wouldn’t ask me to go down on him at the dinner table. And I was nervous about meeting his family. What would they think of me? He usually dated high-society types, not librarians.

  January in New York was cold, and it had been one of the coldest on record. But leave it to Nathaniel—the car was running and toasty warm inside. He even opened the passenger side door, like a true gentleman, and closed it once I was inside.

  We drove in silence for a long time. Eventually, he turned the radio on and a soft piano concerto filled the interior.

  “What kind of music do you like
?” he asked.

  The delicate melody playing had a soothing effect on me. “This is fine.”

  And that was all the conversation we had on the way to the benefit.

  A valet took the car when we arrived and we walked into the building’s entrance. Living in New York for as long as I had, I’d grown accustomed to the skyscrapers and crowds, but walking up the stairs that night, being part of the high-society crowd I typically just watched, made me feel overwhelmed. Thankfully, Nathaniel kept his hand on the small of my back, and it was oddly reassuring.

  Taking a deep breath, I waited while Nathaniel gave my wrapper and his overcoat to the woman working the coat-check.

  Within minutes of our entrance, Elaina trotted toward us with a tall, good-looking man in tow. “Nathaniel! Abby! You’re here!”

  “Good evening, Elaina,” Nathaniel answered with a slight inclination of his head. “I see you’ve met Abby already,” he said, his tone faintly quizzical. He turned to me and lifted an eyebrow. I hadn’t mentioned Elaina’s visit to him—though I had no idea why, I felt he’d disapprove.

  “Oh, lighten up.” Elaina smacked his chest with her purse. “I had a cup of tea with Abby when I stopped by at your house earlier today—so yes, Nathaniel, we’ve already met.” She turned to me. “Abby, this is my husband, Todd. Todd, this is Abby.”

  We shook hands and he seemed pleasant enough. Unlike his wife, his eyes showed no shock over my collar. I glanced around, wondering if Jackson and Felicia had arrived yet.

  “Nathaniel,” another voice said.

  The woman in front of us stood with a grace and elegance that gave her a regal appearance. Even so, her eyes were kind and her smile welcoming.

  I knew immediately she had to be Nathaniel’s aunt.

  “Linda,” Nathaniel confirmed. “Allow me to introduce Abigail King.”

  Nathaniel could call me Abigail, but I’d be damned if everyone he knew would. “Abby,” I said, holding out my hand. “Please call me Abby.”