What. The. Fuck?
She clenched her fists. This wasn’t how she responded to men. She had the utmost respect
for both sides of the D/s dynamic, but she was
not
on the
s
side. Why was her mind trying to sink?
“Stop fighting your natural response or you’re going to earn more punishment,” he
said, his tone cool but his gaze hot.
“I’m not fighting anything.”
He sighed and reached out to unfurl her clenched fists. “I hope you realize the more
you try to scramble for a ledge to grab, the harder I’m going to tug.”
She shifted her weight from one foot to the other, his quiet threat making it hard
to be still. “This is only supposed to be training, sir. It’s not required for me
to go into total surrender mode. I can’t. It’s not how I’m wired.”
His smile was slow, ominous. And she realized that instead of warning him off, she’d
set a challenge in front of a man who fed on winning.
Shit.
“Strip, Kelsey.”
“Sir—”
“Ten seconds to get out of those clothes or I’m yanking them off you.”
Her limbs reacted before her brain caught up, her hands grappling for the hem of her
shirt. She hustled out of her garments, sparing any grace. He couldn’t make her surrender
if she didn’t want to let him. Her mind was her own. But she had agreed to this training,
and she wasn’t going to continue being a brat about it. Physically, she could handle
whatever he wanted to mete out. And if she was honest, she was looking forward to
that part. Having his hands on her earlier had been one of the most thrilling moments
she could ever remember having with any man. But if he expected her to succumb to
the mindfuck part of the program, he was going to be sorely disappointed. She was
just getting her mind put back together. He wasn’t allowed in there.
Hopefully, her body would be enough. It always had been in her past relationships.
She bent forward and slipped out of her underwear, then straightened, standing bare
before him. His eyes tracked over her from crown to foot, his perusal like hot coals
rolling over her skin. She shivered, her nipples tightening and her heartbeat picking
up speed. He had a way of looking at her that made everything else around her seem
to fade and blur, like the only thing that existed in the world was him and his desire
to have her.
His tongue swept over his bottom lip, a little tell. Like he was working hard to keep
his composure and not pounce on her. She almost wished he would. That would prove
she was really in control after all. But he didn’t move. “Over my knees, love.”
She closed her eyes for a second, shoring up her nerve. She could do this. Pain wasn’t
her concern. She’d handled outright brutality and survived. But the spark of lightning
that had gone through her at the mere suggestion of his hand on her backside had her
more than a little panicked. She wasn’t supposed to like this part. “Yes, sir.”
She circled to the side of his legs, then lowered herself downward, draping herself
across his lap. Before she could press her fingertips to the floor to balance herself,
he captured each of her wrists and drew them behind her back, holding her in place
and rendering her completely dependent on his hold not to fall. She swallowed back
the anxiety that was tightening her throat.
A soft expelled breath coasted over her tailbone as Wyatt took in the view. “I could
be polite and say that I won’t enjoy punishing you.” His hand caressed the curve of
her ass, softly, reverently. “But you look so fucking sexy like this, I find myself
hoping you’ll try to get defiant with me again.”
“I didn’t mean to be defiant, sir,” she whispered, her body beginning to thrum with
anticipation. Each caress he gave her was like a dump of electricity into her bloodstream,
sending every bit of her into a vibrating, needy state. Her skin began to warm beneath
his hand. She found her lips moving in silent pleas. Pleading for more, for the sting
of his palm. She didn’t know what to do with that foreign desire, but she was beyond
the point of being able to tap it down or analyze it too deeply.
His knuckle traced her slit, the telltale moisture sliding along his skin. A soft
whimper passed her lips. “Very nice, love. Now, five swats for trying to top, and
ten more for talking back to me twice. Do you understand?”
“Yes, sir.”
“And no coming.”
“How would I come from—”
His hand came down on her with a breath-stealing blow. Her body rocked forward, the
hot sting rippling over her backside and the flannel of his pants brushing her clit
with wicked accuracy.
Sensation rumbled through her. And before she could suck in a breath, he spanked her
again—once, twice, three times.
Smack! Smack! Smack!
Each time brushing her sensitive bits more roughly against his legs.
Fuuuuuck
. The pain and edgy pleasure twined together, and she let out a woeful, desperate
moan.
“That’s right, love. Feel it all.”
His hand came down again, and her brain began to buzz. This was different. So different
than what she’d experienced before. Pure. Sweet.
Good
. Without conscious effort, her toes pushed into the floor, lifting her ass higher
for his hands. He smacked her again, right at her center. Hard. Thoughts evaporated.
Like the string of a balloon slipping from a child’s fingertips, she grabbed for that
last ribbon of control. But it was too late.
It was already gone.
She
was already gone.
TWELVE
Wyatt recognized the exact moment Kelsey slid under.
Her body softened against his legs, the tension in her muscles melting into liquid
warmth. His. Completely. The sight knocked him right off his rhythm. His cock throbbed
against the fly of his pants as he lifted his hand and brought it down on the lower
curve of Kelsey’s ass. Her smooth, golden skin had gone the prettiest shade of fiery
pink. He had the urge to lean down and lick the stinging marks he was leaving, to
feel the heat of her against his tongue. And God, her scent. Sexy and spicy and sweet.
He nudged her thighs open a bit wider, exposing the swollen lips of her pussy and
the shiny moisture glistening there. Despite her resistance to get to this point,
her body was obviously on board. And his was about to explode from the vision of her
gorgeous surrender. He pushed the hand he had holding her wrists more firmly against
her back and then slid two fingers from his free hand inside her, stroking her in
a spot he knew would test her ability to hold off orgasm.
She jolted in his hold, the hot, wet clasp of her sex clamping down around him and
nearly making him groan aloud. He wanted to be inside her so badly, to feel her around
his cock again. But he didn’t keep condoms down here, and there was no way he was
walking away from her for even a second. Not when he’d managed to push her into the
yielding state she’d made clear she had no intention of getting to.
He stroked her inner wall again, slow and steady, determined to drag her even deeper
into her body, her responses. No escape. No separating her psyche from the fact that
he
was the one making her feel this way. She huffed breaths as she fought her way through
the need to come. “Wyatt, please . . .”
“Shh,” he said, the soft begging making him even harder. He loved that he could bring
her to this desperate point, to make such a strong woman plead, that she trusted him
enough—whether consciously or unconsciously—to let him see her this way. “You have
five more swats left, love.”
He slipped his fingers from inside her, earning him another soft whimper, then took
his time delivering the rest of the blows. A nicer man would’ve made quick work of
it, would’ve let her off the hook. But he was enjoying her too much. Even when he’d
been deep in the scene in college, spanking hadn’t been a particular fetish of his,
but he could see it quickly becoming one with Kelsey. He could imagine himself spending
hours bringing Kelsey to the brink and back, reveling in those sounds and quivers
she made.
He put his strength into the last blow, the power of it rocking her roughly against
his lap. Kelsey cried out but it was all gritty desperation now, not pain. She was
way past that point, writhing against his legs, seeking the last little bit of stimulation
that would send her over. But this was punishment after all, and he wasn’t going to
grant her what she wanted quite yet.
He released her arms, being sure to keep her steady, and eased her to her knees on
the floor in front of him. She let out a soft mewl of protest but kept her gaze downward,
her blonde hair damp and framing her flushed cheeks. Beautiful. Perfect.
“Look at me, Kelsey.”
She raised her face to him, those blue eyes soft and yielding. Eager.
He tucked his hand inside his pajama pants, taking his now-aching cock in his palm.
“You see what you do to me. How much I love having you under my hand?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered as she watched his hand with rapt attention. He pulled his
cock free of his pants and stroked upward. The tip of her tongue touched her lips.
“I was going to fuck you again tonight. Was going to bring you to my bed, take my
time, and taste every sweet bit of you.”
A pained look crossed her face.
“But you tried to push the issue. To control how things went down. And so now instead
of tonight being about me pleasuring you, you will please me instead.”
She nodded. “I understand. I want to please you, sir.”
He rubbed the bead of moisture along the crest of his dick, watching her watch him.
She wanted this. Either the submissive in her had kicked into full stride, and the
thought of pleasuring him would please her. Or the defiant part of her knew that the
best way to get the upper hand on a male dominant was to bring him past the brink
of his self-control—and her mouth around his cock would be a surefire way to get there.
Either way, he was one step ahead of her. She just didn’t know it yet.
He spread his thighs wide, clasping his fingers around the base of his cock. “Take
me in your mouth, love. Show me how much you yearn to please.”
Kelsey’s lips twitched at the corners, a secret smile. Oh, yeah, the effect of the
spanking was fading and she was looking for a way to grab the wheel again. She scooted
forward on her knees and with the litheness of a cat, lowered herself to his lap,
wrapping her lips around the head of his cock and sliding down, down,
down
. Slow. Past the point where most women stopped. He felt the tip of him tap the back
of her throat.
He didn’t hold back the strangled groan that welled up in him. “Fuck, that’s good.”
She lifted her gaze, locking with his, as she slowly dragged her lips and tongue upward,
caressing him in the hottest, wettest, sensual slide. His feet arched—actually fucking
arched—with the sensation of it all. He laced a hand in her hair, gripping the side
of her skull as she continued her expertly crafted assault. And that’s what it was,
a full frontal assault on his willpower.
As if sensing the tug-o-war shifting in her favor, she let his cock slip from her
mouth, then dipped lower, gliding her tongue along the base and laving at his sac.
Like she loved it. Like she craved a taste of every part of him. And regardless of
skill or experience, nothing was hotter than a woman who sincerely enjoyed giving
pleasure—not marking time until it was her turn but truly relishing every moment her
mouth was on him. Unable to stop himself, he grabbed his cock with his free hand to
stroke as she took one of his balls in her mouth.
Fuck. Me.
His eyes felt dangerously close to rolling into the back of his head.
Then, as if to prove she wasn’t going to let up until he completely lost it, her spit-slicked
fingers teased lower, along his perineum and ringing the sensitive rim of his ass.
His hips lifted off the couch, his body going taut with the onslaught of responses
firing in his body. His balls drew up tight, his whole system on the verge of meltdown.
He thought he’d been prepared for the feel of her, had a plan, but goddammit, she
was throwing grenades at him left and right. This woman knew exactly how to bring
a man to his knees.
With the last shred of control he possessed, he gripped her hair and tugged her away.
Ragged words scraped across his vocal cords. “Enough, love.”
She blinked up at him in confusion with big doe eyes that nearly made him lose his
resolve. “Did I do something wrong?”
“No, you’re doing everything too fucking right. Believe me.” He released her hair.
“Turn around, face down, let me see my marks on your pretty skin.”
Though she seemed taken aback by the shift, she followed his instruction, turning
and lowering herself into a graceful pose, arms stretched out in front of her, the
long line of her back and the curve of her ass exposed to him, knees parted. The pink
welts on her flesh only served to make his cock throb harder in his hand.
He leaned forward on the couch, reaching down, and dipped his fingers into her pussy.
Christ, she was soaked, the evidence of her arousal now coating part of her inner
thighs. He couldn’t remember ever seeing someone so fucking sexy. He drew her moisture
onto his fingers, then pulled out and brought them back up to his cock, coating himself
with her juices and mixing it with the slickness she’d left behind from her mouth.
Her scent wafted up as it hit his hot skin, wrapping around him as he pumped his cock
with his fist.
It was no substitute for her mouth or the feel of her body around him, but the sacrifice
was vital to reiterate who was in control. He needed her to see that he wasn’t going
to let her down in this training by being easily manipulated. Every response she’d
given him showed how much her body and mind craved this kind of surrender. She might
not be ready to accept it yet, but he was more than ready to show her how much he
wanted to be the one to bring her there.
“Touch yourself for me, love. You have permission to come when I do.”
He stroked his fist along his cock with measured speed, drawing out the inevitable,
savoring the sight of Kelsey bowed and spread before him. She braced herself on one
arm and reached between her thighs, those slender fingers parting her folds and rubbing
her clit. No hesitation. No shame.
He loved that unapologetic sexuality of hers. In front of the world, she came across
as that sweet girl next door with the secret smile. But behind the scenes, she was
vixen personified, a woman who didn’t worry about how “nice” girls were supposed to
act. And after living his life in circles where “proper” behavior was like religion,
the sight of Kelsey taking her own pleasure was enough to make his blood feel like
it was going to burst out of his veins.
“That’s right. Show me how you like to be touched.”
She tilted her head back, her spine arching, and slid two fingers inside with a breathy
moan. Her hips rocked against her hand as she alternated fucking herself and stimulating
her clit. Wyatt found himself mesmerized and unconsciously matched her rhythm, as
if it was his cock pumping inside her instead of her fingers. He gripped himself hard
as he stroked, thrusting into his fist as Kelsey’s speed increased.
Acting on pure instinct now, he reached out and smacked her still-pink ass as he charged
closer to release.
“Ah, God.” Her back bowed again and she let out the cry, her fingers moving even faster.
“Please . . .”
Seeing her react so well to the pain only dialed up his need more. He hit her again,
his balls tightening and the pressure building inside him. “Come with me, love.”
Kelsey’s hair touched her back as she arched with the first wave of her orgasm, and
pleasure exploded through Wyatt, racing down his nerve endings and outward. He moaned
as his release slammed into him, his cock pulsing and fluid jetting forward, splashing
against Kelsey’s bare back.
Kelsey let out a few more gasps, her orgasm quick and intense, then she sank onto
her elbows, head to the floor, panting. She looked spent and a mess, in the best possible
way—her skin pink with his handprints and her back covered with his semen.
Marked. By him.
A dangerous warmth stirred in his chest at the sight.
No, don’t go there.
Wyatt tugged off his T-shirt and wiped his hands, then gently cleaned the remnants
of his release from her skin. “Kneel up, love.”
With languid movements, she pushed herself upward, and he wrapped the throw blanket
he’d grabbed from a nearby chair around her. She didn’t fight him when he kissed her
gently, picked her up, and brought her onto the couch with him. He arranged her across
the cushions and then tucked himself beneath her, letting her rest her head in his
lap. Not wanting to break the moment with a lot of talk, he turned on the television,
keeping it on mute, to check on the storm.
“I’m sorry I talked back,” she said, nuzzling into position like a cat. “I know better
than that.”
“Shh.” He combed his fingers through her hair, stroking any remaining tension from
her and enjoying having her there at his fingertips. “Was the punishment so bad?”
She smiled a bit, but kept her eyes closed. “Nah, but I may have trouble sitting on
the plane tomorrow.”
He chuckled. “Will it be wrong if I find you squirming in your seat particularly arousing?”
“Sadist,” she said with a real smile now.
“Only a little.”
She got quiet for a while, and he thought she’d dozed off, but then she shifted against
his lap. “Thank you for that. I’ve never . . . men have hit me before . . . but I’ve
never enjoyed it or felt safe while it was happening.”
He continued to stroke her hair even though her words made his other hand ball into
a fist. She’d said it as if she’d just tried a little pain play before and it hadn’t
worked. But he heard the hesitation in her voice, the part she wasn’t saying. Men
had hit her without her consent. The thought of anyone hurting her had murderous notions
forming in his head. And he couldn’t stop the under-the-breath question from slipping
out. “What happened to you, love?”
Her breathing stopped for a moment, like an animal caught in the beam of a flashlight.
“It’s okay if you don’t want to talk about it,” he said softly. “But the more I know,
the better this will work for both of us. I don’t want to do something that’s going
to inadvertently hurt you.”
She lay there for a long time, her hand idly tracing over his knee, and he thought
she’d decided not to share, but finally she seemed to deflate, releasing all her breath.
“Did Jace tell you what happened last year when Reid was shot?”
His stroking paused. “Jace and I weren’t really talking a lot then, but I saw the
news story. Reid and your sister tracked down your mom’s murderer.”
Kelsey wet her lips, her focus fixed on the TV screen but a far– off look in her eyes.
“No other names were ever released because of the nature of the crimes. But Brynn
didn’t track him down randomly. She was chasing after him because Davis had kidnapped
me. I had incriminating evidence he wanted. He held me against my will for three days—beating
me mostly, raping me twice.”
“Sweet Jesus.” His blood turned to ice and a sick, clammy feeling washed over him.
She closed her eyes, the muscle in her jaw twitching. “I’m not telling you to get
sympathy. I don’t want that. But you probably should know . . . in case I freak out
over something. I don’t get panic attacks or anything, and I’ve worked through a lot
of it with a therapist, but occasionally there are nightmares. And relinquishing control
will probably always be a little scary for me.”