Break Me Down (16 page)

When Sam climbed off of him a few minutes later, she gathered herself back together and wiped away her tears. But a smile played around the edges of her mouth, belying the stern mistress face she was trying to pull off. She leaned into the car and pulled something out of her bag. A collar.

She put her hand out to him. “Ready to show everyone you’re mine, sub?”

He took her hand and pushed to his feet. “It would be an honor, mistress.”

She snapped the collar around his neck, the feel of the leather a thrill he hadn’t expected, and then she handed him a pair of tight black boxer briefs that had a zipper up the front. She cupped his growing erection. “Some things are meant only for my eyes, gorgeous. Cover what’s mine.”

He smiled and tugged on the shorts. He would’ve walked in naked if that’s what she wanted, but it did something to him to know that she didn’t want to share that view with anyone else. “All yours, Sam.”

“Mmm.” She gave the zipper a playful tug. “Boy, am I looking forward to undoing this later.”

“Man lingerie does it for you, mistress?”

She pressed up on her toes and brushed a kiss over his lips. “
You
do it for me, Gibson Andrews.” She laced her hand with his. “Now come on and show me what a good man whore you can be.”

He laughed and stole one more kiss. Then they walked into the big cedar-and-stone building hand in hand, both smiling like idiots.

Gibson thought the anxiety would return, that he’d feel the eyes on him and want to hide. But when they strolled past other members in the hallway and got raised-eyebrow looks—not at his state, because lots of people walked around in fetish wear here, but that it was him, Gibson the dom, wearing a collar—he only had to look at Sam’s face. The pride there, the pure pleasure she showed at having him with her like this, was all he needed. If he showed shame, it’d be shaming her. Screw that. He had the hottest woman in the place about to do depraved things to him. He was finally the lucky son of a bitch.

By the time they reached the demonstration room, he’d gone into role, finding the quiet in his head that he’d never been able to access before. He kept his head down and his focus on Sam, falling a step behind her on purpose. Onstage were coils of rope, a wall of floggers and canes, and a large Saint Andrew’s Cross at the center, a bare spotlight shining down on it. His stomach gave a kick—not of worry but of anticipation.

He didn’t even notice the audience in that moment. He couldn’t. Sam was going to use those things on him. All the fantasies he’d woven about her were now at his fingertips. Somehow, without forcing him, she’d moved him past the seemingly impossible hurdle anyway. He was out. Exposed. It was done. The people he was walking past saw what he was. No going back. Now he could simply enjoy the
after
. Finally, there was an
after.

An
after
with Sam.

Only when he got to the front of the room and kneeled onstage did he catch sight of familiar faces in the crowd. Pike. Foster and his girlfriend, Cela. Grant and Charli. A few other friends and acquaintances. Low murmurs moved through the group as Sam got things set up behind him. He scanned the faces and one after another only showed one thing—smiles. They were happy to see him up there. Happy someone else had found what they needed in this crazy world. Because that’s what friends did. They loved you
because
, not
in spite of
.

Those were the only people who mattered.

And right as Pike was giving him a ridiculous devil-horns/rock-on sign with his hand, Sam stepped behind him on the stage and wrapped a coil of rope around his chest. “Everyone, I’d like you to meet sub Gibson. The man I’m going to tie up, whip ’til he begs, and screw ’til the sun comes up.”

Claps, catcalls, and wolf whistles came in response.

She pressed her hands to his shoulders and whispered into his ear. “The man I’m going to love as long as he lets me.”

He smiled and turned his head to look up at her. “I’m thinking forever sounds good.”

She stepped in front of him and gave him the full impact of her smile. “I believe I can work with that.” She cinched the rope tight. “Now shut up and be a good boy.”

He closed his eyes and forgot anyone else was watching.

She was his.

And he, hers.

She’d broken him without even lifting a finger.

“You know, I did hire an entire crew to do this stuff for you.”

Sam rocked in the new white chair on the porch and sipped her tea as Gibson sanded the wood frame of the front door. “Yes, and I’m very grateful for the plumbing and electrical work they did. But none of them look as hot as you when they’re shirtless and sweaty. Can you stretch a little for me? Maybe drop something and bend over real slow.”

“You’re shameless,” he said, flashing her that sexy smile over his shoulder and raking her over with a slow, hot look. “I love it.”

A shiver went through her, that raw desire in his eyes like a stroke along her skin. She grinned back, admiring the fading marks on his back, wanting to lick them. She’d taken him to the Ranch a week ago, tied him up, and performed a whip demo. The people watching had been awed at how much he could take, what it did to him, how turned on he got. Even Grant had seemed impressed.

Her Gibson, man of steel.

But like that first night she’d put him on display at the Ranch—Gib’s coming-out party—after the whipping, she hadn’t shared the rest. Her exhibitionist streak was strong, but she found that her possessive streak was even stronger. She didn’t want to share Gib with an audience when things got intimate. The sex was for them alone. So when they played at the Ranch, they did the pain stuff in public and then moved to a private room or cabin. It worked for both of them.

But it’d been a week since she’d touched him. He’d been on a business trip for the last few days and the time apart had seemed like an eternity. When he’d headed here from his flight this afternoon, she knew he’d expected it was for immediate, urgent, oh-my-god-we-haven’t-seen-each-other-in-a-week sex. And, man, had she wanted to jump him when he’d strolled up the walk. But she’d wanted to play more. And she had a plan. So she’d made him strip down to his jeans and had put the boy to work, giving herself a view and prolonging her own slow-building pleasure.

She carefully adjusted herself in the chair to fully face him. “Ah, that breeze feels nice.”

“Mmm,” he said, focusing on his task.

“So glad I decided to forgo panties. Nice air flow, you know.”

His head whipped around, his gaze zeroing in on her thin sundress. But she had her legs tucked beneath her, concealing all her secrets.

He groaned. “You’re killing me, Sam.”

She took a long sip of her tea. “Show me. Unzip your pants.”

He licked his lips and set the sander aside. Then dusted off his hands before unfastening his jeans, opening his fly, and displaying his own commando state.

Mmph.
Desire was a sharp kick between her legs. Flat belly, dark hair, heavy, thick cock presenting itself proudly. If
she weren’t wet already, she’d have soaked through her dress. She set her tea aside and tipped her chin at him. “Come stand in front of me and let me look at you.”

His mouth hitched up at the corner, male smugness. No matter how submissive he was, the cocky streak ran deep. She loved that. He wiped his hands off on a rag and walked her way, stopping an arm’s length away from her, his cock displayed like the most decadent temptation.

“Hands behind your head.” She waited until he followed the instruction. “How many times did you fuck your hand while you were out of town?”

“How many times did you?”

Her gaze flicked to his, finding him with a smirk. Oh. He wanted to play that game. Bratty sub.
Bring it on.
She reached over to her glass, grabbed an ice cube, and promptly touched it to the head of his cock.

Breath hissed from between his teeth.

“I asked you a question.”

“Only when you gave me permission on the phone. I didn’t break the rules.” He grimaced. “Okay, that’s not true. Once. I broke the rule once.”

She hid her smile. “Tell me.”

“I was getting ready for a meeting and I forgot to wear loose boxers. The boxer briefs kept rubbing against the whip marks, reminding me of our night together. I wasn’t going to be able to give the presentation I needed to with a hard-on. So I went into the restroom and handled it.”

She lifted her brows. “You jerked off in a public bathroom. Your lack of control is astounding.”

And hot.
So hot.
God, he would’ve been wearing a suit. She could picture him there, looking sharp in one of those Armani numbers he had, tie perfectly knotted, fly open and fancy watch shining on his wrist as he stroked himself and bit his lip to stay quiet.

A sound of pleasure escaped her.

She froze.
Shit.
She’d been so good.

Gibson frowned “You okay?”

She shifted, and the toy she’d so successfully hidden from him for the last half hour moved into just the right place at the wrong time.
Oh, God.
She moaned and heat flooded her.

His eyes narrowed.
“Sam?”

“You don’t get to ask the questions,” she snapped, but the words didn’t come out as firm as she’d hoped.

Gibson stayed obediently silent, but his eyes moved downward. He knew.

But not everything. She grabbed back control. “I may have been compromised by a toy the whole time we’ve been out here.”

His lips parted. “Oh, fuck. You’ve been getting off while I work? You’re literally going to kill me.”

She smiled. “Maybe I’ll show it to you if you’re good.”

His cock glistened at the tip, pre-come joining the party and naked hunger crossing his face. God, she loved how turned on he got at even the thought of playing. “I’m all yours, Sam. Just tell me what you want. Let me touch you. Let me see what you’re doing to yourself.”

She let her eyes travel over him, eating up the view. All those cut muscles, shiny with sweat and flushed with excitement. The open jeans. The V of his pelvis. He was sex on a Southern stick. And she was pent-up. She would never last for what she had planned. “I’ll make you a deal.”

His brow arched.

She pulled the small remote from beneath her thigh. “I’ll let you have control of this. And I’ll lift my dress so you can watch me come.”

“Fuck yes.”

She raised a finger. “But when I’m done, I get to use the same toy on you.”

Gibson flashed teeth, thinking he’d gotten an easy deal. “Agreed.”

She let him lower his arms from behind his head and handed him the remote. Then, she moved her legs from beneath her and slowly lifted up her dress.

Gib’s attention was locked on her, but when she revealed what was beneath, his eyes went wide. “Oh, shit.”

She laughed, victorious. He’d been expecting a vibrator. And he was half right. The device had a vibrating portion that went inside her, pressing against her G-spot. But the
piece de resistance
was the impressively sized strap-on that jutted out from between her thighs in all its glory. That part vibrated, too, and the base was giving her clit a wicked little massage.

“What do you think?” she asked, teasing him a bit, expecting him to back out of the deal. She’d used dildos and plugs on him before now, but she’d been working up to this. She’d seen his face that day in the adult store. He hadn’t been ready then.

He was ready now.

Gibson laughed, a nervous edge to it. “I’m a little terrified. It’s . . . impressively sized. But I’m not going to lie. You look fucking hot. Will you spread your legs for me? Let me see what it’s doing to you.”

The genuine desire in his voice pushed all her buttons. She slowly spread her legs and stroked the rubber cock like she owned it, giving him a little show. She had no idea how men walked around with these things all the time—seemed cumbersome—but right now she was kind of enjoying the role reversal. She barely resisted the urge to strut.

Gibson groaned. “Jesus, I don’t know why that’s so sexy, but you’ve got my full attention, mistress.”

Lord.
How did she get so damn lucky? It had taken a lot for Gibson to get over that wall of shame, but, man, had he hit the ground sprinting once he reached the other side. She could see new kinky doors opening up all around him each day. This man was all in. He loved it. And she loved him. No more worrying about her desires being too far off the reservation. She’d found her match. She leaned back in the chair, the power humming through her veins, and grabbed the base of the
strap-on. “Get on your knees and suck my dick, Gib. Do it while you make me come.”

Gibson didn’t hesitate, didn’t balk. Fire flared in his eyes, and he grabbed his cock and squeezed the root like he was having trouble keeping his desire in check. It didn’t matter that they were outside on her porch. It didn’t matter that he was straight and had never given head before. If his mistress asked him to do something, he was going to do it with enthusiasm and enjoy it. He got to his knees and lowered his mouth onto the toy. Just seeing him wrap his lips around it did something to her. Amped her up about a thousand percent. Fuck, he was sexy.

He lifted that blue-eyed gaze to hers, sucked her like he meant it, and dialed up the knob on that little remote.

She groaned and rocked her hips toward him, riding the vibrator and giving him a show as he pushed her higher and higher toward release. It was quick and fierce, and before she had time to catch her breath, she was shoving Gibson away and getting to her feet, the dildo sticking out like a never-ending hard-on under her dress.

The sight made her giggle, and Gibson snorted. “Just happy to see me, I presume?”

She grabbed him by the shoulders and spun him around. “Shut up, boy. Bend over the railing and pull your jeans down. I need to be inside you. Now.”

“Here?” Gibson shuddered under her touch, unease surfacing. But when she confirmed that it was what she wanted, he followed her commands. He tugged his jeans down and braced himself on the railing. Naked and open under the sunshine. Giving her everything, trusting her completely. She grabbed the lubricant she’d hidden behind a potted thyme plant, but when she stood behind Gibson again, her eye caught sight of something on the railing.

She stilled for a second, her breath catching. On the railing next to Gib’s right elbow was a worn message she’d etched into the wood when she was a kid. Her grandmother had given her leave to do it because she’d planned to have the railing replaced. But her grandmother had passed a month later. The railing remained. Sam didn’t.

Samantha was here.
And a smiley face. That was the grand message of an eight-year-old.

Samantha was here.

And then she wasn’t. And that smile had left for a long damn time.

She pressed her fingers over the spot, rubbed the now-smooth edges.

Gibson noticed what she was doing and placed his hand over hers, squeezed.

Samantha was here. Now she was back.

And so was her smile.

Her grandmother might not approve of what she was about to do to Gibson, but she’d definitely be happy to know that after being lost for so long, she’d finally found her way back home.

She let go of the railing, grabbed the supplies, and then she was easing her way inside Gibson. He didn’t fight. He didn’t resist. His body was hers. Her heart his. She reached around him, stroking his cock as she rocked the dildo inside him slowly, dragging out the pleasure for them both, absorbing the low, sexy sounds he made and letting the need build inside her again. She couldn’t remember ever feeling more in tune with another person. They moved as one, their bodies joined in a way that
most couples would never experience, but it felt exactly right for them. This. This was what they’d both been waiting for all their lives. Freedom. To be who they were, to just
be
.

She picked up the pace, the need rocketing toward fever pitch. And the man who’d fought to keep his desires in the dark for so long begged his mistress for
harder, faster, more,
for everything, all under the gleaming sunshine, where there was no place to hide.

Yes to more. Yes to this. Yes to everything.

Before long they were both shouting into the wind, scaring the birds that had roosted in a nearby tree, and calling each other’s name like an invocation.

The flapping of wings filled the air as they both tipped over into orgasm and soared together. She gripped Gib’s waist and pressed her face to his back, feeling his strength, the power of their connection, the sound of his heartbeat as she let herself float back to earth.

This man.

“That was . . . wow,” she whispered.

He reached behind him and palmed the back of her head, his fingers gentle in her hair. “Guess we finally pulled the long straw, huh?”

She smiled against his skin. “Yeah. We did.”

Maybe the universe didn’t owe anyone anything.

But sometimes, it paid up in full.