by Alex Elliott
“Please,” I rasp as he slams his fingers into me. Each pump is as fiery as the flick of a cane across my skin. I arch my hips without thinking. He’s giving me what I need.
“Fuck me,” I moan.
“Not. Yet.” He withdraws his fingers and lifts off of me.
There’s the swish of the cane, down it comes on my bottom, and I arch upward in a haze of lust and need. I’m flayed from the inside out and I’m ready for him to force me to the edge. Every slice of a swat is a step closer. I count. Thank him. And he smacks me again. The rush of pain expands under my skin. There’s no escape. I shudder and bow my head.
“I...” My heart pounds. I’m in a place that’s foreign. Ungrounded. I need him and whisper, “Please.”
He comes to my side, lowering his face to my ear. “Tell me...should I stop?”
I’m so close. Shaking, I close my eyes as tears flood and threaten to overflow. His fingers trace my lips. “Beautiful. You’re so strong. Fierce. Mine.”
Swallowing hard, I’m desperate to find my footing. I open my eyes and meet his emerald gaze. Absorb his strength. I can do this. “Forty-five. Thank you, Master.”
“La mia dolce metà. You’re almost there. Trust me,” he murmurs, lifting upward and away.
Another five rapid snaps of the cane ensue, and the doorway within me bursts open. I’m coming undone and unafraid. I can’t explain this feeling of bliss, other than he’s in control. Caning me and crafting a mind-obliterating orgasm that builds and builds.
“Fifty. Thank you. Master.” My words flow on a hushed gasp, lower than a whisper.
All that I hunger to tell him remains caught in my throat with the emotions I fear I’ll shout in front of a room of people I know exist yet cannot see. These emotions, he constructs must remain as unseen as the people out in hall, and I swallow, biting back what I long to tell him...I’m open. He’s invading my senses. My cells. I’m his. All. The. Way.
He places the cane on the table off to the side, and leans over me, pressing himself against my ass. His cock is out, nudging my entrance. Heat radiates from my caned skin as he cups and peels apart my ass cheeks.
“Soon, I’m going to enjoy sampling your tight little ass. Not tonight. Do you want me to fuck your cunt?”
“Yes, please.”
“Better beg me properly,” he warns.
“Master, fuck me. Please,” I whimper, trying to widen my stance. Our bodies meld, he breaches my folds, and pummels his cock inside me.
His thrusts are hard, dominating and he wraps his hands over my hips, whispering my pet name, “X,” After he hisses out, “Ssss.”
He forces me to take all of him, slamming into me as I silently beg him to fuck me roughly. Please, master.
I feel the slide of his fingers around my neck, press and tighten. “That’s it. Open to me. I own you,” he whispers near my ear.
“Yes. Tighter.” Oh God—what a rush. He’s squeezing and slamming into me. Tendrils of pleasure explode, and I curl my hips, clenching around his cock.
The room dims as he pounds his length into me and I start to shout his name. Hedonistic rapture clouds my brain. Seamless black. Perfection...but it starts to recede.
Bennett lets go of his hold on my neck as he covers my mouth with his palm, preventing me from crying out his name. Trembling, I’m at the edge, ready to shatter. I curl upward, but he slams me down and like a demon as he fucks me and holds me silent, pins me to the bench.
“Take everything I’m giving you,” he orders.
Delicious dark pleasure rains down, and I soak his cock with my orgasm. He releases his hold on my face, and shifts his hands to my hips, pounding his cock inside me, grinding as he shudders. His body hovers rigid over me, until he exhales, blanketing his chest over my back.
“You’re such a dirty girl,” he whispers, biting my neck. His hands rub down my arms, to my wrists, freeing one then the other. He rubs his hands over the marks, red and the flesh on my hands is numb. I tingle as he touches me, kisses my shoulder. My neck. Me.
He slides his hard torso over my body and his fingers unbuckle the restraints at my ankles. I try to lift but he stops me. “Stay put. I’m going to take care of you.”
He picks a bottle from the nearby shelf, and squeezes a stream of clear liquid onto his palm. He rubs his large hands together and walks behind me. He places his palms on my bottom, and I sigh in relief. The liquid he rubs cools my scorched skin. He massages my cheeks and the scent of mint fills the air. Again, he squeezes the bottle and again he massages my bottom, splaying open my ass cheeks, and unleashing a masculine grunt of appreciation. “Incredible.”
“May I get up?” My legs are loose and I wobble unsteadily, until he lifts me up into his arms.
“I’ve got you.” His mouth glazes over mine in a tease of a kiss. “And I’m not finished with you. Tell me how hard you want to get fucked.”
“So. Hard!” I whisper.
Laying me on the bed, he takes my face in his hands, and resumes our kiss. He licks, sucks, and bites my lips with a few sharp nips. He holds me steady, tipping up my face and our eyes connect. His green and smoky. Intense. And it’s like I’m staring into a blazing fire as he gazes down at me. He rises and I reach out to him, but he’s too quick and steps back. My gaze traces a path down his body, focusing on the outline of his cock inside his leathers and he follows my eyes, rubbing his palm down his cock.
“What are you thinking, filthy girl?”
Without a shirt, his corded muscles are a play of shadow and light and if I could reach him, I’d pull him down onto the bed. Undo his zipper and ride him with my head thrown back, his name spilling from my lips.
“I want to ride your cock.”
He picks up a bottle of Macallan and pours a liberal finger or three into a glass. He walks to the side of the bed, and holds out the glass to my lips, tipping it until the liquor wets my lips and flows into my mouth.
“Oh you do...do you,” he replies. “Even after I just disciplined and fucked you?”
He lifts the glass and downs a sip. With his fly open, the place where his happy trail disappears teases me mercilessly. During my claiming on stage when he held my head, thrusting his cock down my throat, forcing me to take all of him, I’d gotten a close-up view of his shaved groin. The strange scars along his crotch match the ones on his arms. The ones he says were from an uncle who in a drug-crazed state abducted him when he was four and did things. Weeks in December when other children were wishing for Santa, what was his life like? Christ, I can’t believe his father didn’t go after that bastard and kill him. Or his mother. I would have. I feel so protective of Bennett, and yet, here we are. Putting ourselves out in the open so we can keep our secret.
So many secrets.
Which ones are real?
I don’t know. Right now, isn’t the time to decide. I refocus on my master. He’s the only person who matters. “I’m not the only person who groomed,” I say.
Setting down the glass, he pulls his boots off, then lowers his leathers, peeling them off his mind-blowing body. Now freed, his hard-on juts forward—thick. Long. And ready to resume our borderline savage fucking...again with people watching.
He picks up a filmy piece of material—a scarf. My heart pounds on the other side of my ribcage and I’m gasping in need as he winds the silk around my wrists He smooths his hand over my body and reaches for the glass of scotch.
“Don’t move, or I’ll take you back to the bench. Next time, I’ll use a whip on your perfect ass. Understand?”
“Yes, Master.” I fold my arms up along my chest and slowly, carefully he drips the liquor over my stomach. His cock judders, and crystal clear droplets release from the slit at the top of his crown.
Licking my lips, I’m filled with the craving to suck his thick shaft, and I tremble as saliva rushes into my mouth. He tosses back the rest of his drink, and lowers his body, wedging his broad shoulders between my legs.
“Say it,” he orders, spreadin
g my lips apart. “Beg for me as your Dom.”
“Suck on me. Hard, Master.” My pussy throbs from the stinging pain he inflicts.
Splaying open my lips with two of his fingers, he presses his warm mouth to my sex and I clench as jolts of pleasure flare inside my body. Our gazes connect and he drags his wet tongue through my pussy, stops and captures my clit between his teeth. He sucks on the very tip as the scotch pools in my navel.
“Master...” Every muscle in my body tightens. I’m unraveling as I refrain from bucking my hips in need of more. In need of all of him.
Arduously, he flicks his tongue up my seam which is waxed smooth. “Fuck, I love your cunt,” he growls.
I strain to breathe as the synapses under my skin fire each time his tongue laps across my flesh. Unrelenting, he licks a path upward sucking droplets of scotch off my skin. Holding onto one of my hips, he swirls his tongue within my bellybutton and thrusts a finger into my pussy. I arch against his mouth. A thousand sparks ignite as he pumps his finger and bites my belly. I’m coming—unable to stop.
“Please!” I half-scream and he laughs, the sound a warm vibration, scattering like a seismic whisper across my skin.
“Come for me.” He peels my legs apart, ghosting his lips down my abdomen, over my mound, and kisses my clit.
He fucks me, driving his tongue into me, hard and possessive. Over and over, he sucks on my flesh, biting my clit, spreading me apart, splaying me open, and showing me no mercy. Each flick of this tongue is a flash of ecstasy, and I cry out as he pins me to the bed. He’s forcing me to give myself to him. And I do.
With Ben, there’s no hiding or holding back, and this time, I release all the fucking way. I dive in to the feeling of falling.
“Dirty girl, now you’re ready to ride me.” He moves up along the bed, then he’s next to me, lifting me up as he lies down.
In an erotic fog, I straddle him as he grasps his cock, swiping the broad head against my sensitive sleek flesh and the massive shiver I’ve been holding back since he climbed onto this bed, overcomes me and my muscles quiver. “God. That feels...soooo good.”
Haphazardly, I plant my palms on his chest as he drives his cock inside me. I keep my body loose and relaxed, gliding down his length, dragging my teeth over my lip as he rubs against my G-spot. He’s not rough or savage—he’s gentle and I feel every hedonistic centimeter of him as he pumps his length farther inside me.
“Feel how deep I am?” he groans, grinding his hips against me. “Ride me, little sub.”
“Like this?” I’m so wet as I contract around his shaft.
Decimating pleasure washes through me, fueled by his hands gripping my hips, hauling me up and rapidly down onto his shaft. I rock on top of him, rolling my hips moving from slow and measured... to sharp and fast.
Bennett guides me, thrusting into me as his muscles carve into rigid bands over his shoulders, and down his arms. “That’s it. Fuck my cock. Harder!”
We’re moving in a sensual frenzy. Unrestrained and yeah, I feel so uninhibited in how I clench around him. His hands graze up my sides, capture my breasts, and he pinches my nipples. Each tug of his fingers coincides with his thrusts. I can’t contain the maelstrom of erotic bliss, swelling inside my body.
“Master!” I arch my neck from the coiled energy, binding my muscles.
“Don’t come. Not yet.” He grabs my hips and without warning tips me over. He switches to a commanding position over me. Lifting my calves over his shoulders, he drives his dick to the hilt inside me. With his arms caging me, he pounds his hips between my legs. “You need to be fucked like this. Every night. By me. Only me.”
“Yes, Master,” I whisper in response.
Our gazes lock. His eyes are as intense of his slams. Reaching for the headboard with one hand, Ben pounds his dick farther inside me, hitting my G-spot. Harder and fiercer he forges his presence inside me until I’m powerless to stop from semi-screaming his name. I’m imperfect at submission, but does it matter? He’s inside me, dominating my body and mind, and I’m clinching around him as another delicious orgasm unleashes and shatters into a million sparks, each one tinged with ecstasy that races through me—all at once.
He lowers his head, capturing my mouth as he flexes his torso. With my wrists bound, I rake my fingernails over his chest, marking him as mine. I beg him for more, for all he has and his slams make the bed creak louder as he pounds farther inside me. His pecs constrict into tight contours that I trace my fingers over. Trembling around his cock, I mold my hands over the carved muscle underneath my palms as he pummels into me and shudders—his muscles turn into corded bands.
“Baby,” he rasps softly into my mouth as he releases deep, deep inside me.
Chapter 6
HOW FAR CAN YOU BEND?
AFTER SEVEN hours at the House, Xavia is upstairs in her apartment. A night of... I scrub my hand down my face, struggling to classify what we did.
Last night, I would have bet my left nut my little intern would be nervous—Christ I was near to calling it off as I watched her kneel onstage. Club members clapped me on the back, asked if I’d share her, offered me obscene amounts of money, the unspoken wink and favor I’d be owed...all patently of no interest to me. I’m stunned by X—she was seamless in how she submitted to me.
Sitting inside my car, I study the shadows on the wall of her apartment. I know I should leave. Forty minutes ago, I blindfolded and put her in a privately driven vehicle, trusting a driver to drop her off—well fuck. I’m a schmuck, so shoot me. Following her here is breaking strategy with how we’re supposed to conduct ourselves. Tell that to my dick. That lead pipe appendage of mine wants more of her. An evening of hardcore fucking and I’m ready for another round.
In nine hours, I’ll pick her up and we’ll head to the vice president’s for lunch. Shit, I need to leave. Now, motherfucker! My phone buzzes and I pick it up.
“Yeah?”
“Where in the hell are you?” Jax asks.
“On my way home. Why?” I reach for the ignition and turn the key. The engine purrs. I’m ready to shift gears on every level of existence.
“You’ve got a fan club congregating here.”
I flash my gaze to my side view mirrors, checking out the street scene. “Sucks to be them.”
“Seriously, Ben. They want in on what you and Ms. Excess offered up last night. Some serious money is on the table.”
I’m not a piece of meat. After being abducted and held against my will, I close my eyes, refusing to revisit the shit I’d been through. “Fuck, when have I ever been for sale?”
“This is a one-time offer and dammit. Don’t let your pride get in the way! We could barter. Get our own security detail instead of being beholden to the brass.”
“I wasn’t the one who wanted the eagle in our nest. You’ve got stones for putting that on my head.”
“Naw, I’m putting that on your dick, ballbuster,” he bellows but I’m not moved.
If anything I’m sickened but I don’t let on. I’ve never let on, but Jackson Carter found out a few of the murky details of my fucked up history. I don’t know how. There’s no police record. My father made damn sure of that but somehow Jax has his ways as do I. We each specialize in obtaining enough intel on those near us to make sure no one ever talks. Probably why he and I are as close as two coats of paint at times.
“So far you’re talking out your ass.” I glance back up at X’s apartment. The windows are dark and my heart pounds. She’s in bed. Safe. Secure. Now, I can put my car into gear and leave.
“What you two did...I can’t begin to relay the uproar you two have caused. Giving a taste on stage. I’ve never seen so many people put out. They were ready to storm the hall, demanding that the door be taken off its hinges.”
“Good thing that didn’t happen,” I retort dryly. My muscles tighten. This is the first time in the history of forever when a flickering of apprehension slithers across my awareness. Like a premonition of something horri
ble to come...and then it’s gone.
“For the record, that move was pure genius in the aftermath. But shit, try telling that to Secret Service agents crawling up the walls. Those cocksuckers are antsy to make a name for themselves. They’re ready to lay down their lives. What’s a door?” He laughs darkly.
My gut wrenches. Second time in less than ten seconds. This is the proverbial snap—crackle—but no pop! “Well, since we’re talking record,” I say, without laughing. Actually, the blood in my temples thuds. “I’ll rescind our fearless leader’s membership without thinking twice if he—or anyone—countermands my authority!”
“Only you have the balls to even consider that one.”
“More than consider. I’m serious, Jax. Either we stand together on this one or we’re all fucked. We’re the owners of that club. Answer me honestly, whose order would you follow?” For once, I’m getting the distinct impression there’s a fissure that’s more than a crack in our agreement on how to run the House. “Whose?” I repeat again, when he fails to outright answer.
“Benedetto Antonio Stone,” he says in a serious tone. “I won’t dignify that question with an answer. What’s going on with you? Maybe that’s the real issue that needs to be addressed.”
I stiffen. Jax is the only person (besides my mom) who routinely employs the Italian version of my name to make a point. What would she think of Xavia if she were alive? Probably adore her. I clench my jaw from the sharp twinge in my chest. “Looks like we’re both minus answers this morning.”
He sighs heavy enough to make me aware we both pulled all-nighters. “Back to the business of the House. We may need to hire a scheduler.”
“Come again?” So far, we have drivers, security, serving staff, grounds people, cleaning crews, an accountant, an on-call staging outfit, and a handful of consultants. Our computer system allows for members to conduct online scheduling. “What’s wrong with how we do things?” I grunt.
“Because we’re overbooked and understaffed. That room, the one at the end of the hall you just happened to use, is now booked solid. Before we couldn’t give it away. We need to expand and discuss options. I propose additional wait staff, and we need to meet and vote on hiring onsite management.”
