Authors: Scarlett Sanderson
A hand curled around her wrist and stilled her escape. She
turned and stared into the green eyes of her buff savior. His gaze pierced hers,
and the zings she’d felt moments ago burst around her body like firecrackers.
In
all
the right places.
She got a good look at him. The rest of his body was toned
like his shoulders. A lithe, graceful torso rippled into a tapered waist,
ending with strong thighs and legs. Despite being in a BDSM club where leather
dominated the attire, he wore ripped denim jeans and a tight white T-shirt, his
half-mask the only leather adornment.
“You okay? I’m sorry about the asshole.” He moved forward,
cradled her hand in his. Gently, he rubbed the pad of his thumb over her racing
pulse point.
The movement was soothing. Sheer, blissful pleasure slid
through her blood. His thumb worked over her skin, creating ribbons of heat.
Tessa bit down on her lower lip. She mentally fanned herself and prayed she
didn’t melt into a pool of orgasmic harmony.
His thumb moved around and around in a lazy circle. She
became mesmerized, watching it dance a pattern on her skin. Those electrifying
zings reached an all-time high as her body readied itself for action. Her
nipples peaked beneath the fabric of her shirt and moisture pooled between her
thighs. She’d been turned on by Karl’s spanking but this was different. A
deeper attraction on a base level. The deep-seated need to be fucked by someone
stronger than her.
The physical action she craved would never happen. She
didn’t do casual sex. Not with anyone from Inferno and especially not with the
buff god standing less than a foot away. He was too dominating, too arousing.
Raising her gaze to his, Tessa blushed. A predatory
confidence burned there, setting the green contours of his eyes alight with
what she could only describe as sexual desire. When he grinned and touched his
full upper lip with the tip of his tongue, she mentally bit down on her
knuckles and groaned. Her masked savior was sex on a stick. And she knew
exactly where she wanted to lick first.
“You seem a little dazed. Want me to repeat the question?”
His voice, a rich timbre in her ears, held a slightly Southern lilt that made
her desire more painful. She’d always had a weakness for a Texan twang.
She regained some composure and withdrew her hand from his
grasp. “I’m okay. A little shocked and feeling a little stupid. I should have
remembered my safeword.” She gave the guy a wry smile, feeling foolish for
allowing herself to be so naïve.
He pushed a hand through his spiky hair. She followed the
movement, fascinated by the length and slenderness of his fingers. “We pride
ourselves on a safe and discreet environment here at Inferno. I’m sorry you had
to experience that in your search for a Dominant.”
Tessa frowned. Just because she was on the receiving end of
a spanking didn’t mean she was looking for a Dominant. How could he assume
something like that? It wasn’t like she had it written on her forehead.
Lifting her chin, she stared straight into his arrogant,
cocky eyes. “How do you know I’m not here looking for a submissive?”
Her words brought laughter. Not just any laugh but a
throw-back-your-head-and-roar type of laugh. Her cheeks burned with
humiliation.
Gritting her teeth, she asked, “What’s so funny?”
The guy took a deep breath and looked down. His eyes danced
with humor and a mischievous glint, sending zings through her body all over
again. Her cheeks now burned with something other than embarrassment.
“What’s funny is the thought of you coming here to find a
submissive.” Leaning forward, he fingered her lapel intimately. His gazed
burned into hers. “You don’t have a dominant bone in your body, lady.”
Tessa didn’t know whether to grab his tight, white T-shirt
and beg him to kiss her or to be offended by his comment. He spoke with such
conviction, such absolute authority, she knew he had a dominant bone, and more
than one.
Still, it didn’t become a woman to let a man get the better
of her. On second thought, that was exactly why she was here. To let a man get
the better of her. The whole Dominant/submissive thing was really confusing.
“And how do you know I don’t have a dominant bone in my
body? You don’t even know me, mister.” There, she’d told him. “In fact, I might
be looking for a nice piece of ass just like yourself to take home. I’ll bend
you over and spank those tight buns ’til you scream.”
He raised an eyebrow and stopped rubbing her shirt. He just
stared at her, as if looking straight into her soul. Then, wrapping his fingers
around her arms, he gently pushed her against the nearest wall. Her back
collided with the concrete and she let out a squeak. Whether from shock or
excitement, she didn’t know.
He had her trapped, and Tessa loved every second of it.
Her breath hitched, her body cried out
kiss me, kiss me,
take me!
A body could be a treacherous thing. Her lips parted in
anticipation. Her pussy throbbed with delight.
The guy slapped one hand against the wall above her head. With
the other, he stroked her hipbone. The guy was
really
into stroking.
“How about I just bend you over my knee right here and give
you
a spanking?” The tone of his voice was low, intimate, husky. The sounds of the
club faded away. All she could hear was him, all she could smell was his spicy,
woodsy scent.
His breath tickled her ear as he leaned into her body and
whispered, “You’d like me to spank you, get those tight ass cheeks all red.
You’d beg me and I wouldn’t stop. You’d beg me to fuck you.”
Stunned yet shamelessly excited by this rough talk, Tessa
opened her mouth to speak but his lips covered hers in a kiss that was anything
but gentle. It was hard and brutal. Just how she needed it. Just how she’d
fantasized millions of times in the past.
His tongue forced its way into her mouth, dueling with hers
like they were two warriors battling to the last. They continued to kiss, to
explore each other. His kiss was hot and enticing, stoking a sweet fervor
inside her. Not once did he let up on the dominating assault.
She felt as if she would drown from the passion building in
her body. Her nipples became turgid peaks begging to be touched, her heart
slammed against her rib cage. Elation and excitement coursed through her,
mingling with the heady feeling of taboo. This illicit encounter with a
stranger shouldn’t make her quite so horny.
Be quiet!
He stroked his tongue against hers, teased the roof of her
mouth before drawing back. His labored breathing matched hers. She managed to
open her eyes and glance up. His thick lashes framed eyes languid with the heat
of their kiss. She swallowed and his gaze followed the movement of her throat.
He parted his lips, licked the lower one again. His nostrils flared with
passion.
She couldn’t read his emotions, other than his lust. He was
a stranger to her in every sense yet she knew his scent, the taste of his lips,
and she’d never been more certain that she wanted his tongue mating with hers
again.
Clutching his shirt, Tessa pulled the stranger toward her.
Her lips clashed with his, biting, nipping, demanding. She let out a small moan
as his hands tunneled under her shirt. His fingers stroked lazy patterns across
her torso. The contact of his skin against hers was electrifying. Every nerve
ending sparked to life. She wanted to wrap her legs around his waist, plaster
her body against his and have him fuck her.
The stranger placed fevered kisses on her cheek and across
her eyelids. He nibbled at her chin before giving her throat one long,
leisurely lick. Tessa sighed, wrapped one leg around his waist and draped her
arms across his shoulders, clawing at his shirt.
His teeth were doing wondrous things to her earlobe. His
tongue rimmed the shell of her ear, making her shiver.
She didn’t even know his name. The thought was like a bucket
of ice water across her heated skin.
What the hell am I doing? First the spanking incident and
now this!
Managing to lift her hands, she placed them on his broad
chest and pushed, wrenching her mouth from his in the process. His chest
heaved, his eyelids drooped lazily, his lips swollen. When they curled upward
into a coy smile, Tessa thought this stranger was the sexiest man alive.
Panicking at the thought she might have found a Dominant
after all, a man who could make her lose control, lose her will to do anything
but please him, she ducked underneath his arm and stepped away.
She turned to face him, raising her hands. “I’m sorry. I’m
really sorry.”
And she was. Sorry she couldn’t be the woman he wanted. Her
night of unbridled pleasure had come crashing down around her ears. Tears
prickled in the corners of her eyes. Why did finding sexual satisfaction have
to be so hard?
Jared stared as the woman ran through the crowd. Hands
reached out to stroke her and she slapped them away. Other people turned to glare
at the woman who disrupted their enjoyment.
He watched her go, his cock raging. He was so hard, the
pressure from his zipper bit into his swollen head. Not that Jared cared. An
edge of pain added to the eroticism.
He could still taste her on his tongue, feel her passion and
will to submit. Sure, it was buried deep, but a guy like him could always sense
a woman’s needs.
He wasn’t a Master, just a guy who liked some kink with his
sex. Kink added variety and spice.
Jared liked spice. He was also a Dominant. Not a Master—he
didn’t live the lifestyle 24/7—but he did like to be in control.
Pressing the heel of his hand against his crotch, Jared
shifted his weight. It had been months…no, a year…since he’d taken a woman.
He’d grown tired of the constant expectations. Many of the women he’d dominated
were either too experienced, demanding, topping from the bottom, or not really
submissive at all, just playing, acting the role for a cheap thrill.
The BDSM scene he moved in had become a cliché.
Disillusioned, Jared was sick of all the pretense. He needed someone fresh,
someone to teach, mold. Someone with innocence and no expectations.
The thrill of being in control didn’t excite him. No one had
interested or fascinated him enough. Until now. Until the woman with the
practical, short dark hair and blazing-blue eyes.
He’d seen her distress but before that, he’d felt her
pleasure. Seen it etched on her face. Her buried needs called to his. He’d
sensed her undiscovered craving. She thought she was looking for a Master. From
the defiance in her eyes, a Master wasn’t really what she needed. She wasn’t a
slave. A Master would make her panic, run away. What she needed was some kink,
a man who could make her lose control. A Dominant. A role he was very willing
to perform.
This woman was untouched. She wouldn’t make demands, she
wouldn’t have expectations.
How long had it been since he’d dominated a newbie? Years.
Maybe that’s what he needed, something fresh.
She would be an interesting experiment. A way to ease
himself back into the game. A way to regain the thrill.
A challenge.
Now all he needed to do was find her.
Chapter Two
“Big, juicy, hard, pert nipples. I cannot resist them. I’m a
nipple addict. I just want to suck and lick. I even think about sliding my
erection between their breasts and making love to them while those erect
beauties poke up at me.”
Tessa listened patiently to the man sitting on the opposite
side of the desk. The monologue about his breast obsession, nipples in
particular, rattled on and on. As a sex therapist, her job meant she had to
listen and advise. Many patients, especially the males, tried to arouse her
with descriptions. When they failed, they tried the shock approach. With ten
years in the business, she had heard it all. There was little that could shock
her.
Legs crossed, she sat taking notes on how best to approach
this case. Neil worked with a female swim team, so help for his
problem
was essential. Hard nipples abound in the cool arena of a swimming pool. If
Neil planned to avoid temptation—and a lawsuit—she needed to refocus his
attention on other things.
Easier said than done.
Right now he stared at her well-covered breasts. Even though
he could only distinguish the silhouette, his eyes were firmly glued to her
chest. His tongue snaked out to lick his bottom lip. She resisted the urge to
snap her fingers in his face.
Instead she coughed, clearing her throat. It diverted his
attention from her womanly assets. The key thing was not to humiliate Neil for
his secret desires. A good therapist listened and refrained from judgment.
A slither of sympathy ran down her spine. Back in college
she’d tried explaining her needs to her ex. Tessa believed that one day they
would get married. She trusted him enough to admit she craved dominance and
pain. She’d asked him to tie her up and spank her with a hairbrush.
She mentally winced as she remembered his reaction. He
called her dirty, depraved, made her feel guilty for asking for abominable
things.
Only really fucked-up people want to be beaten, Tessa.
A week later he ended their relationship.
“Well, Neil, I can see why this is classed as a problem.”
He nodded. Strands of dirty-blond hair fell across his
forehead. “And you can see why this is
urgent
?” He leaned forward,
tapping his fingertips on the desk.
Tessa leaned back. “Yes, Neil, I can understand.”
She had a knack for sensing problem patients. Already, Neil
was heading for her difficult-clients list. His sense of urgency, his
agitation, made her wonder if she could ease his nipple craving.
When the timer signaled the end of their session, Tessa let
out a huge mental sigh. Saved by the bell, at least for this week.