His Only Hope: The Maison Chronicles, Book 2 (8 page)

“Thank you, Gabe.” Her lust-roughened voice, the way she said his name, drilled straight to his cock. He set aside the effect it had on his heart.

Katrina thought he’d been crazy, going so long without a woman, but now it made sense. His body knew what it wanted—Hope, and no one else. He didn’t know whether to laugh or lash out. Preferably at Master Asshole.

One arm wrapped around her tiny waist and the other grabbed her hair and tilted her head back. The beautiful line of her neck, the indentations of her collarbone made his cock throb.

He nipped her earlobe and her moan vibrated through his body. “One more thing,
cara
.”

“Yes, Gabe?” Another pulse of blood to his prick.

He licked the rim of her ear and she wrapped her arms around his neck and went boneless against him.

“Before we truly start, you have to know I won’t just play with you this weekend.”

“Oh no? Have plans for a Parcheesi tournament, do you?”

He let go of her hair to smack her ass. The crack, dulled by her pants, echoed through the room in time with her yelp. “I’ve missed your sense of humor. It provides so many opportunities for discipline.” He swatted her again and she yelped. “That was for your little smack on my chest earlier.” For a third time, his hand came down on her sweet rear and she sighed and arched into the spanking. “And that was just for me.” His grin felt feral, even to him. “And no, Parcheesi will have to wait, because when you’re not bound and getting punished, I’ll be fucking you silly. Starting now.”

She whimpered and it was the sweetest sound. He was afraid he’d bust the zipper on his jeans if she didn’t agree soon. She pressed herself against him and started lifting his shirt, but he needed to hear the words. “Yes or no, Hope.”

“Yes, Gabe,” she purred.

Hot damn, the weekend was looking up.

Chapter Seven

As soon as she’d agreed to his weekend terms, he’d carried her into the bedroom and settled her on the bed. Hope was dizzy with lust and joy. Telling Gabe about Master Joseph and her mother felt so good—but not as good as she’d feel in a bit.

She turned to him, wet with anticipation, wondering what would come next. He was always deliciously unpredictable. It was one reason why she’d been so enamored with him.
Had been?

She ran from that thought faster than a seam ripped and yanked her brain to the here and now. Gabe snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor between his knees. Time to sink into that clear, pure part of her mind where nothing mattered but pleasing Gabe.

He could throw her into subspace with a look, a touch, a word. And he was the only one who’d been capable of doing so. Damn, had she missed it. Submission gave her an unparalleled freedom.

Sinking onto her knees, she couldn’t help but notice the uncomfortable-looking bulge behind his slacks. She rested her head on his leg as she used to when he was working at his desk, sketching his newest designs. He stroked her hair and everything drifted away but the feel of his muscled thigh, his hands running through her hair, and the arousal she could just barely smell.

He let her revel in the moment, and that, more than anything, reminded her of why she’d been broken when she left him in California. He was a Dominant who understood that it wasn’t all about his desires. She had loved him for it. Did love him for it.

And in that moment, cushioned by Gabe’s gentle dominance, the thought didn’t scare her at all.

“Okay,
cara
.” His voice barely broke the silence. “Wrists.”

She knew this routine by rote. Placing her hands against his chest, she held her breath until one then both leather cuffs buckled shut against her skin. Their weight grounded her in the moment.

They were the same cuffs she’d worn at home with him every night, the cuffs he’d made just for her after learning collars made her uncomfortable—
Thanks, Master Joseph
. Lighter than most but still substantial, the cuffs suited her in every way.

She tried not to wonder if any other sub had worn them in her absence, but the thought crept in and turned her stomach. They were hers, dammit, and so was he.

“You’re wearing too many clothes.”

The interruption of his command was welcome. And a thrill of excitement zipped through her, replacing her unpleasant thoughts. “Oh? Whatever will we do about that, Sir?”

Gabe froze and she tried to remember why he’d react like that, but her brain was all melty. She looked up at him, loving the view.

“So. You’re using ‘Sir’, now?” His eyes were cautious, waiting for her response.

“Mmm, I guess so.” She nuzzled into his leg, feeling small and protected.

“Eyes up.” Her chin snapped up and she saw desire burned into every line of his face. “You never wanted to use that before.”

So much for sinking away into subspace. She gathered her wits about her. “It seemed to fit. Felt right. But I’m sorry if I—”

He yanked her to her feet and kissed her silly. “No,” he growled, “it’s just right. Now let’s get you naked.”

Hit with that tone, she’d have done anything he asked. Her nipples pressed against the lace of her bra, begging to be released. She reached for them through her shirt, rubbing the sensitive points…for about two seconds before Gabe snapped, “Hands behind your back.”

She twined her fingers together to make extra sure she didn’t reach for something, like Gabe’s zipper, and waited for his next move. She didn’t have to wait long.

Like a madman, he unbuttoned her shirt and flicked open her bra. The cool bedroom air on her nipples hardened them into little points. Gabe circled her like a hunter with its prey. Once he moved out of her sight, Hope let her eyes sink closed. She focused on the soft swish of his pants as he moved, the displaced air brushing across her flesh, the delicious smell of him.

Then his hands were on her, unclasping her fingers to remove her top and bra before he replaced her hands behind her back. A metallic snap later, and her wrists weren’t going anywhere.

“Damn you.” He knew how much restraints aroused her. He cleared his throat and she added, “Sir.”

“I warned you we were playing my game, baby.”

Warm hands landed on her skin, and Hope let her head fall back against Gabe’s strong chest. His fingers slid up and down her sides before landing on her breasts, heating the places the air had chilled.

He always felt warm to her, a luxury for someone who always wanted to wrap up in a blanket on a Los Angeles summer night.

The nights she spent with Gabe, she wrapped up in him instead.

His fingers drew ever-tightening circles on her breasts, and every pass he didn’t brush against her nipples made her wetter with anticipation.

“I love your tits.”

She loved when he used that word—so raw, so dirty, and he always growled it against her ear.

“Perky, full, with nipples that taste like candy.”

“Sure you remember?” she mumbled, drunk on his touch.

He squeezed her breasts, the constriction shooting arrows of lust to her pussy. His touch would be gentle and rough by turns, but always unpredictable.

“Wench. I’ll get there when I feel like it.” He nibbled her neck. “I’ll put you on your knees, arms restrained, and lick those pretty nipples until you beg me to fuck you.”

Her moan sounded desperate, even to her ears.

“You like that, hmm?” he growled before biting her earlobe.

Chills ran down her spine, a flash fire spreading out to her fingers and toes.

“You want more?”

“Oh God, yes please, Sir, please.” She babbled nonsense, begging for his touch, anything harder than the delicate circles he was back to tracing.

With his deft fingers, Gabe had her pants off in no time. He spun her around, pulling her against his hot, hard chest. She leaned up to kiss him, wanting to feel his tongue on something, anything.

“I don’t think so.” He stopped her with a hand and a wicked grin. “You gotta earn that, baby.”

Laughter bubbled from her, and God did it feel good. She’d not laughed like that in years. Hell, not since she’d left Gabe. “Whatever you say.”

His eyes went hard and he grabbed her arms. “Whatever you say…?”

She whimpered as a wave of arousal drowned her. “Whatever you say, Sir.”

“Better.”

He crushed his mouth to hers and she was lost. His tongue dived and swooped and threw sparks to every tingling nerve in her body. She’d missed this, the way he kissed with his whole being. She threw herself into it, lips and teeth and tongues meshing until she felt nothing beyond that moment.

One second she was kissing him, and the next she was lifted into the air and onto her knees, mattress beneath her with Gabe standing over her.

“Much better,” he said, using his hands to span her waist.

She loved how solid and big he was all over.

“Y’know, this isn’t fair. I’m practically naked and you’re still dressed…Sir.” Hope did her best fake pout.

Gabe’s smile had her tingles swarming back. Her pussy throbbed as he rubbed a hand against her mound, protected by nothing but her black lace thong. She arched into his touch and he pulled his hand back. Her panties were soaked through and she felt so empty.

She needed him inside her, hot and hard. Sooner would be better than later, but Gabe seemed as if he was going to take his sweet time on this one.

“How can you have the world’s most perfect breasts?” He lifted them from her chest like an offering to his lips. He leaned forward and sucked one nipple into his hot, wet mouth and she about lost her mind.

Between his hands and mouth on her, Hope’s sense of space-time was distorted. One second, Gabe teased her breasts, the next she was on her back, wrists unhooked from each other.

“Arms above your head. Don’t move them.”

He trailed his hands up and down her flesh, from shoulders to toes and back again, with just enough pressure to tease. The pads of his fingers skimmed across her panties, the friction tickling her clit. She arched her back, wanting more of his touch.

“Sir, please, I need you now.” She wrapped her arms around his neck, urging him to suck, to bite, anything but stop touching her.

Which is exactly what he did.

“Bad girl. I told you not to move your arms.” He sighed and shook his head. “And I was enjoying your sexy black lace panties too. You know I’m a sucker for your pale skin framed in black.” He re-pinned her hands and rose from the bed. “Let’s try this again. Don’t. Move.”

“Yes, Sir.”

He traced her body inch by inch with his eyes, searing her skin. Her lids drifted closed under the weight of her lust, but she could still feel him staring at her.

A throat clearing pulled her out of the sensual reverie. When she reopened her eyes, Gabe had lost his shirt.

“Oh, sweet lord and hot damn,” she breathed.

Her mouth watered at the sight of his golden skin. Broad shoulders tapered down to a whittled waist and his sexy hip muscles pointed toward the bulge in his slacks like a giant arrow. Muscles corded his arms and chest and abs, and he sported a new tattoo on his left pec, a soaring bird that was linked to his sleeve tat with beautiful abstract swirls of color. She didn’t have a chance to think more about it because Gabe pulled a knife from his back pocket.

“Oh…Gabe. Sir.”

He remembered her weakness for sharp, shiny things. Yeah, because she hadn’t been wet enough already.

She whimpered as he flicked it open and knelt on the bed. The cool steel pressed lightly into her neck and trailed down between her breasts and across her hip, leaving nothing but a burning line of sensitized flesh behind. She lifted her head to see the razor-sharp blade slide under her panties. With a flick, he cut one side then the other before she could protest. A clatter of metal on wood rang through the room and his knife-free hands returned, pulling the thong from her body.

“Don’t say a word,
cara
. I’ll buy you more.”

Well, there was no arguing with that. He knelt between her legs and spread them farther apart. She squirmed under the penetrating gaze locked on her pussy. She’d never let him go down on her or stare at her naked and spread-eagled because her scar raised too many questions, but the time for that was past.

But it didn’t mean she was suddenly comfortable with the attention. Her legs trembled and inched closed.

She got a solid smack on her thigh for that one. Two years ago—hell, two hours ago—Hope couldn’t have imagined not freaking out from the contact, but as Gabe’s hand soothed the area and his thumb gently caressed her scar, she only felt a twinge of unease. And that vanished when he leaned down to kiss the ridged, scarred skin.

“Keep ’em spread, baby. I’ve got time to make up for.”

Hell, that sounded like fun. He exhaled across her inner thigh, tendrils of air teasing her exposed core. “Gabe, please…”

“Baby, you’re out of practice. Ask properly.”

Her mind froze under all the naughty things she could demand, the delightful things his talented tongue could do. Her foray into kinky la-la land got cut short by a pinch to her other thigh. She gave an undignified yelp and fought every instinct to close her legs. She won—kinda—but just enough to avoid another pinch.

“I’m waiting,
cara
. Tell me what you want or I’ll just have to spend the rest of the evening staring at your charms and exploring at my leisure.”

While that was a tempting offer, Hope knew she didn’t have the patience for that. Waiting had never been her strong suit, and was only something she could abide when tied up—of course, she could only abide because she had no other options. “Please, Sir, Gabe, lick me, taste me, make me come!”

“Demanding wench, aren’t you? I suppose I can tackle the first two, but whether you get to come or not is still up in the air.”

“Ah, dammit. Tease!” She tilted her head up to watch him, loving the sight of his dark hair and eyes against her pale, pale skin.

He bit into the flesh of her mons as he laughed, and the vibrations awoke long-dormant never endings.

Since her mother had taken a turn for the worse all those months ago, Hope had been too busy to remember she had a sex drive, much less do anything about it. She hadn’t come in…far too long.