Doms of Dark Haven 2: Western Night (9 page)

He was right; it had taken less than twenty seconds. And she’d spent more than ten minutes fretting.

He turned her so that she was positioned between two mirrors and could see the sparkle from the plug’s jewels.

Even she was surprised by how nice it looked, and how she barely noticed it in her. “Thank you for the butt plug, Sir.”

“Not everything has to be a struggle,” he told her, not for the first time, as he helped her to stand. He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Shower and meet me downstairs for breakfast. Skip the clothes. No more crawling unless ordered to, because I fancy watching you move.”

She nodded.

She showered and did her best to tame her hair with a brush and the hair dryer she found in a cabinet.

She walked down the staircase, appreciating its carved elegance more now in the daylight than she had last night. The color was a luxurious honey brown, and the way it curled around was beautiful.

He’d closed the blinds that were closest to floor level and left the others open. Rain drizzled against the windowpanes, but heated air spilled from the vents in the loft. He’d been busy. A plate of eggs and bacon sat on the table, and, lucky day, there was also fresh-squeezed orange juice in a glass and a steaming cup of coffee on the table.

But it was her dom who made her heart trip.

He wore tight jeans and a black T-shirt that emphasized his chest and muscular arms. Life could be much worse.

He stood when she neared the table. He waited until she was seated before he took his chair again. She thought she might swoon from his old-world manners.

He was right; her life would be much easier, much more pleasant, if she’d stop fighting him.

“Eat up,” he told her. “You’ll need the sustenance.”

As soon as they’d loaded the plates and cutlery in the dishwasher, he ordered her back to bed. “And crawl,” he said. “I want to see that butt bling.”

He watched from the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, yeah,” he said with a low, appreciative whistle.

For the first time in her life, she wasn’t self-conscious. She felt secure and confident in her body. If she were honest, she’d also admit she felt sexy as hell each time that small piece of steel moved inside her.

He followed a few steps behind her.

She knew she could stand when she reached the top of the stairs, but she stayed on all fours. If he wanted to appreciate the plug, she’d oblige him. She continued to crawl into his bedroom.

“Lie down on the bed,” he told her. “On your back.”

Good thing she hadn’t wasted time making it earlier.

“Arms above your head, sub.”

She curled her fingers around the headboard and watched as he stripped. His muscles were gorgeous; his arms were ripped, his legs solid and strong.

He momentarily vanished into the closet. When he came back, he was wearing a condom and his left hand was closed in a fist.

“I’ll be honest; it was all I could do to make it through breakfast,” he told her, kneeling on the mattress. “Having you across from me, naked, sitting on a plug. Count yourself lucky you got to eat.”

He leaned over her and alternately sucked on each nipple, drawing them one at a time into his mouth and making them into tight little buds.

He raised up and opened his hand, revealing a pair of vicious-looking nipple clamps attached by a length of metal chain.

She pressed her lips together, determined not to ruin the moment by arguing. Her eyes were wide, though, as she watched him, and her stomach tightened into a furious knot of fear.

“You’ve admitted to being a bit of a masochist,” he said.

She decided silence was the better part of valor.

“I’m starting you with tweezer clamps,” he said. “We can adjust the pressure so it’s not too tight to begin with. And they won’t accidentally come off, which could hurt.”

As if putting them on won’t?

He captured her right breast in his left hand and stroked the pad of his thumb over her nipple again until it peaked. “Keep breathing,” he told her.

He placed the clamp then adjusted the tension until she inhaled sharply. He tugged on the metal, ensuring it was in place.

“You survived it.”

She nodded.

He repeated the process with her other nipple, securing the clamp firmly on the flesh.

Then he wrapped the chain around a finger and tugged.

She arched and gasped, and her insides moistened.

He trailed a finger between her legs. “Definitely a bit of a masochist,” he said.

“If you don’t screw me hard, I might die.” She spread her legs farther apart, arching her back in silent invitation.

He took her in a single thrust.

She gasped, not just from the size of him, but from the exquisite tightness of the fit caused by the plug and the combined pleasure and pain from the nipple clamps. “Oh my God.”

“A little more trust, sub.”

He released his grip on the chain and cradled her head in his palms. She forced herself to hold on to the headboard as the weight of his powerful chest crushed her breasts. He drove into her again and again, some strokes long and slow, others short and powerful. The variety of his movements made her thoughts crash into each other. The clamps intensified the pressure of his body on hers, and she writhed beneath him.

Her orgasm overtook her unexpectedly, and she moved her hips quickly, greedily taking her pleasure. Lost in sensation, she came without asking permission.

As soon as her internal world stopped spinning, she realized he was braced on his elbows. His palms were still pressed against her cheeks as he looked down at her. His steel blue eyes were darker than normal, maybe because the sky outside was stormy gray. She licked her lower lip. “I’m sorry, Master Trevor. The plug… The clamps… Your cock… I’m afraid I lost control.”

“We’ll let that one go,” he said.

He feathered hair back from her face and began to move inside her again.

She concentrated on his pleasure, what he wanted. She wrapped her arms around his neck. She moved with him, following his unspoken guidance.

She realized she liked this, having him inside her, the way he filled her, the way he dominated her.

His body forced hers deeper into the mattress, and his orgasm rocked her as much as it did him.

“Rest,” he told her after removing her clamps. “I’ve got some work to do.”

She didn’t think she was sleepy, but the next thing she knew, an hour had passed. The plug was uncomfortable. And she didn’t want to remove it unless he said it was okay.

She noticed that her suitcase stood in the corner of the room. True to his word, he must have sent someone to fetch it.

She was uncertain what to do. She still wasn’t entirely at ease with her nudity, but having her suitcase there didn’t mean she had permission to get dressed. She was vain enough, though, to give up a month’s salary, for access to her makeup kit.

She brushed her teeth and tried to tame her hair in the bathroom mirror before going in search of Master Trevor.

She found him in his first-floor office, his fingers moving across a keyboard. He had two monitors, and one of them was the size of a small movie theater screen. She recognized a picture of David’s law offices.

She knew a good sub would kneel and patiently wait for her dom’s attention. But curiosity overcame her desire to behave.

Silently she moved into the room.

On the smaller monitor, she saw an e-mail he was composing. To someone inside his company? She shamelessly read as he typed out instructions for the recipient to schedule an appointment with David as soon as possible.

He hit Send, then sat back and folded his hands behind his head. “I know you’re there, sub. And you’d better hope you have a good explanation for your inappropriate behavior.”

Her heart thundered in her ears. She knew what she was supposed to do, but she couldn’t force herself to do it. Instead, she walked across the room and kissed the top of his head. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Why are you not on your knees?”

“Because I wanted to thank you.”

“I would have done this regardless of you,” he said, swiveling in his seat.

Their gazes met. Would he have?

“I still… Thank you.”

“It’s a worthy project. Master David does excellent work.”

“So do you, Sir. That’s why he wanted you. I know he tried to get at least one appointment, maybe more. Apparently you’re a difficult man to reach.”

“We get a lot of requests to help. We select several projects a year. This one just happened to reach the top of the list.”

“You are very generous, Sir.”

“And you’re an ill-mannered sub.”

He said the words without any heat.

Deliriously happy, no matter what his motivation, she grinned, her nerves vanquished by his actions. “Yes, Sir. Apparently I am. Very badly behaved.”

He pushed back his chair and said, “Across my lap to accept your punishment for not getting on your knees instantly and for reading my private e-mail.”

“Happily,” she said. She was grateful he hadn’t asked her to apologize or made her promise not to read his e-mail in the future. The truth was, if the situation repeated itself, she would behave exactly the same way again, shamelessly.

“A little bit of Machiavelli in you?” he asked.

“A whole lot,” she admitted, lowering herself across Master Trevor’s lap. If she hadn’t snooped, she wouldn’t have realized how wonderful he was, and she wouldn’t have realized how much she was falling for him.

* * *

Reckless, annoying sub. He sighed as she wriggled her pert little ass and stuck it high for his punishment.

He flattened one palm on the small of her back to hold her in place, not that he needed to. She’d all but asked for this spanking.

With his open hand, he spanked her hard half a dozen times, torturing each of her buttocks and even landing one on her heated pussy.

Vixen. Her pussy was damp from his hand.

She counted the spanks and thanked him for each. She didn’t fight or squirm—well, just enough to turn him on.

He tugged on the plug. She merely groaned and rubbed her pelvis against his thigh.

His hand was going to wear out before her rear ever did. He’d have to remember to always have a belt or flogger handy.

“Is Sir going to use me now?”

His cock was hard. With the way she was spread across his lap, she knew that. This sub, with her honest reactions, brought him to life emotionally in a way no other woman ever had. “That was punishment, sub, not foreplay.”

Suggestively she ground herself against his jean-clad leg. “Are you certain you don’t want to take advantage of your helpless sub?”

Helpless? Hardly. “Keep it up, Shelby, and you won’t get any more beatings.”

“Now Sir is just being mean.”

He laughed and helped her to her feet. “Get dressed. Skirt, shirt, heels. Nothing else.”

“Sir?” She rubbed her delectably reddened rear.

If he couldn’t take her out in the chaps she’d worn to Dark Haven, a skirt with no underwear was a good alternative. She had the most perfect, spankable ass, and he wanted access to it. “Ten minutes,” he told her. “We’re going to buy you a collar.” The bolo had been suitable when there was no other option. But she couldn’t shower with it or sleep in it. He wanted the mark of his temporary ownership obvious.

“I was going to ask, Sir, if I could remove the plug?”

He arched a brow. “Because?”

“It’s uncomfortable.”

“Ah. So your comfort is the most important thing?”

She opened her mouth, then wisely shut it again. “I’ll leave it in place, Sir.”

“Nine minutes, Shelby.”

She hurried up the stairs, and he watched her go. The idea of her being totally aware of that plug, that he’d put it there because he wanted it inside her, turned him on.

He’d been a dom for a lot of years, and he’d issued a number of orders before. But he’d never enjoyed it quite as much as he was with the not-so-submissive Shelby. Watching her responses made his gut tighten. She wanted to please him. She was sexy and sensual and completely unaware of her hold on him.

He heard water running, and he heard the sound of her footsteps. Having her in his home—bad behavior and all—made the place seem less vast. He’d bought this place for its wide-open spaces. He’d remodeled it to suit his tastes, masculine lines and textures, but until now, he hadn’t realized he had been missing companionship.

He returned to his computer to respond to a couple of e-mails. A picture of a house he’d remodeled was on the main monitor. He’d rather have a picture of her rear, snuggled by those chaps, for a screen saver. Then again, he’d spend all his time jacking off instead of getting work done.

He was waiting by the door when she came down the stairs eleven minutes later. It would be fun to punish her tardiness later.

But as he took a look at her, he couldn’t help his long, slow, appreciative whistle.

She’d followed his directions perfectly. She wore a black skirt, a black button-down shirt, and ridiculously high heels.

He’d bet big money she didn’t wear
that
skirt to work. It rose well above the knee. It was decent, but barely.

She moved slowly, in deference, he imagined, to the heels and the plug. She probably didn’t realize that her ultrafeminine movements were the stuff of fantasy.

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, she smiled before bowing her head. Then she shocked him by kneeling.

Christ
. Could she be any more perfect?

“Sir?”

“Speak, sub.” If she had any idea what she was doing to his libido…

“Um…”

“No prevarication,” he snapped. “If you have something to say, say it.”

“I’m…” She hesitated. She stammered, licked her lip. “Horny. Sir. The spanking…”

He struggled to suppress his smile. “And you’d like me to do something about that?”

“I thought about doing it myself, but I figured I’d be punished for that.”

“You’re right.” He crossed over to her and crouched. She looked up momentarily before obviously realizing her faux pas and casting her gaze down at the floor.

He reached beneath her scandalously short skirt and slid his index finger between her legs.