Lyon on a Leash (13 page)

It took him a moment to respond. “Yes, ma’am?” His voice sounded scratchy.

“I’m ready for you to finish the massage.” With that, she turned and lay face down on the bed.

Seconds passed before he spoke. Even then, his voice was low and tortured. “Yes, ma’am.”

They said payback was a bitch, and damned if they weren’t right. After deliberately teasing Marcus, Vera realized she hadn’t thought her seduction scene through. If she had, she’d have remembered you never cornered a lion in his den.

Strong hands stroked her back in a criss-crossing pattern, warming her flesh. Aromatic odors of wildflowers and lavender from the massage oils filled the room.

Uh oh
. Releasing a moan, she closed her eyes as his palm started at the top of her nape, gently squeezing and rubbing the fragrance into her skin. His hands traveled south, both palms tackling the knotted muscles in her shoulder and upper back. Once that shoulder was relaxed, he moved to the other and then her arms. The only sounds in the room were her grunts over a knotted muscle, or a moan of pleasure as the muscle became pliant beneath his palms. Floating in bliss, she remained silent as his hands covered her ass and kneaded it through the flimsy lace.

A smile inched up her face when she felt his lips brush across her rear cheeks. With entirely too much ease, he turned her over. Lids lowered, she watched him concentrate. After pouring a generous amount of oil in his hands, he started at her feet, pulling each toe, flexing and contracting her foot and then massaging her calves.

It was heavenly.

As if by magic, her legs widened as his thumbs dug into her quivering thigh muscles. Anticipation sat heavy on her chest, making it hard to take full breaths. His hand hovered over her pussy and landed on her stomach. Disappointment lanced through her. Still, she didn’t correct him; she wanted to see how far he’d go.

He stroked and rubbed her stomach, paying attention to her navel, before moving up to her breasts. They ached for his attention. He startled her by pinching and pulling her nipples and then surrounded each breast with his hand.

Her legs flew up from the bed as heat streaked to her core. Their gazes locked as he continued massaging her breasts, as though her body wasn’t on fire. After a moment, she willed her legs back to the bed and ordered her throbbing core to calm the hell down.

It wasn’t listening.

Instead, pulsating need ricocheted between her core and breasts, cresting back and forth in a continuous loop. It wouldn’t be long now. If he would just touch her, she’d go over the edge. On a harsh breath, she closed her eyes, trying either to reach her climax or abandon it. Frustrated when neither happened, she opened her eyes.

“May I touch you, ma’am?” he asked, his voice tight.

“Yes, damn it,” she growled, pissed that she’d caved, but teetering too close to give any other order.

Without his speaking another word, he touched her wet folds. She was drenched, which made his gentle probing easier.

“Now.” She hadn’t meant to yell but he was taking too long. The massage, his touch, the fragrance, and the knowledge that he was there simply for her pleasure tipped the scales. His finger entered her while his thumb flicked her clit. The bed dipped. His tongue flicked against her. Tensing, she grabbed his hair.

“Oh my God,” she babbled as he lapped her juices. His finger continued thrusting while his tongue played with her clit. She was so damned close. He did something with his tongue that caused a scream to lock in her throat. Her eyes widened, her back arched, and her inner walls clenched. She threw back her head and screamed as undeniable pleasure ripped through her, leaving her limp in its wake.

As her breathing calmed, his hand stroked from her neck to her navel. A small smile lit his face. When their gazes met, he spoke. “Thank you, Mistress. You are so beautiful.”

She chuckled as she straightened on the bed. Now that the adrenaline had died down, she felt chilled. “Yelling and screaming? You call that beautiful?”

“More like the reason you were yelling and screaming.” He shrugged. “Seeing you in the midst of pleasure is beautiful to me. I like giving that to you.”

Her gaze flicked over his crotch. He was still hard.
Damn
. She scooted back on the bed, making room for him. He seemed surprised when she waved him down.

“Why are you so skittish?”

“I don’t mean to be. This is our first time in bed and I’m trying to read you. I’m not exactly sure what to do or not do. I just want you to enjoy yourself.”

She rose up and rested on her hand to look down at him. “And that’s how you get off? By making sure I’m enjoying myself?” Her voice held a thread of doubt.

His eyes glowed as he nodded. “Yes, ma’am. It feeds me. The past few days I’ve grown to care about you and that pushes my buttons to make sure you have everything you need to be happy and well cared for.”

She frowned. Happy and well cared for?
Is that what he thinks this is about
?

“Most men are that way when they meet someone they care deeply for,” he said, watching her.

“You’re not that way with everybody,” she said, remembering his reaction to her question about Angel.

“Not at all. I’d be worn out. Just one. Just you. My energies are focused on you and that makes me happy.”

She fisted his cock. Right now, this made her happy. Later, she’d think about the other stuff.

He gasped but continued to watch her.

“You’re thick and long. How big would you say you are?”

He frowned. “I don’t know. Average-sized, I guess.”

She snorted. “Average is a misunderstood term. There is nothing average about this.” She squeezed him again and ran her thumb across the head, spreading his pre-cum.

He moaned.

The more she stroked him, the harder and bigger he became. Yet he remained immobile beneath her hands, allowing her to do as she pleased. The thought that he was her sex toy sent a rush of moisture between her legs. She had never been with a man with Marcus’ level of control. The men she’d dated in the past few years either came too quickly:
I’m sorry, you’re just so good
,
baby
. Or they had no idea how to stroke inside her. Either way, most times after a date, she would return home to ride her sex machine to completion.

Diamonds weren’t a girl’s best friend. Her never-get-tired sex machine was. Holding his cock, she wondered. Could he compete with her toy? Lust and excitement warred inside her as she kneeled on the bed while holding his eyes captive.

If he wondered what she was up to, he never said. The right corner of his mouth curled as she threw her leg over his waist. That was when she realized she still wore her boy shorts. Growling, she jumped from the bed, pulled them off, and then returned to her position over him.

Grasping his hardness, she directed it inside her. The stretch burned a bit. She had to rethink things and take it slow. Inch by inch she lowered herself onto him, then rose to her knees to give herself some space. Marcus filled her to the brim already and she wasn’t yet seated on him.

Their gazes collided. His jaw was clenched tight. The tendons on his neck were stretched and straining. His eyes were dark and determined.

Her palm rested against his face to help calm him. Inside, she felt his pulsating cock and knew he battled for control.

She rubbed his face and touched her forehead to his. “Good job. Hold steady.”

He released a stream of air. Her words must have had a calming effect on him. Sitting up, she moaned at the delicious feeling of being full. “You okay? Can I move some?” She looked at him, waiting for confirmation.

Body tensed, he nodded.

She leaned forward for maximum contact, and lifted up slightly trying to locate her spot. She gasped when his cock stabbed it. From that point on, every movement she made, up and down, and even some hip rotation, was all about hitting her spot. Before long, she was in her groove and taking more and more of him. As she increased the speed, she felt his hands on her, assisting her with her thrusts. To his credit, he didn’t move. Well not much. He became her living dildo and that shit was too sexy to think about.

With his help, she was able to ride him faster and hit deeper. Eyes closed, she yelped as her orgasm built hard and fast. It began in her recently massaged feet, roared up her back, tightening everything in its wake as it shook her to completion. She didn’t have time to utter a word as she was catapulted into the best orgasm in her short history.

Still stuffed with him, her arms gave and she collapsed onto his chest. His arms wrapped around her and pulled the sheet over her sweaty flesh.

His heart raced beneath her ear. There was no substitute for cuddling against a real person after an orgasm. Her liquefied bones could do little else besides lie there while she regrouped.

Soft lips placed a kiss on her forehead. That was something none of her toys could give her. It dawned on her that he was still hard. During her ride, he hadn’t shot off.
Impressive.

Damn, if he wasn’t a keeper. Wait a minute, her inner voice cautioned.
Can he fuck
?

Of course he can
.

How do you know
?

She had no answer. It shouldn’t matter. After all, she had a toy that never disappointed as back-up. But still, she liked this. The sweat, the slapping of skin, the different groans and grunts, the energy and the aroma of mixed scents. Those things couldn’t be replicated on a machine.

Test him
. She squeezed her pelvic muscles.

He tensed beneath her.

She tightened them around him again.

He pulled her closer.

Smiling slightly, she gloried in her position of power of him, over this. Leaning forward, she whispered in his ear. “Fuck me.”

In the space of a heartbeat, he rolled them over, lifted her thigh, and held it in the crook of his arm. Then he thrust forward.

The swiftness of his movements took her by surprise. It took a moment to catch his rhythm, but once she did they danced in sync. The man had a memory like a recorder. He positioned her so that he hit her spot with each thrust. She was going blind with pleasure as he sped up, slamming into her with precision. He played her body like a master musician, each thrust building to a mind-altering crescendo.

“Oh shit,” she moaned as her body caught fire. She seized as her back arched. He didn’t slow down.

“You better come with me,” she growled. It was as though she’d released him from some hidden restraints. His pace increased, like a horse headed to the finish line. She yelled as her body exploded. He slammed into her once, twice, and froze on the third thrust, grunting deep in his throat.

Her heart beat so hard she was afraid of an attack. Hell, she might never pull out her Syb again. Gulping for air, she lay sweaty beneath him.

He rolled to the side and pulled the covers up over her. It was all she could do to move over so he wouldn’t fall out of the bed. The heat from his body warmed and soothed her. Something phenomenal had just happened. Right now, her mind couldn’t hold onto a single thought. Tomorrow, she’d think back on tonight. Granted, she was new to BDSM relationships but she needed to re-examine everything.

One question rang in her mind.
Who’d dominated who tonight
?

Marcus brought in the luggage and closed the door behind him. He took a moment to get his first look at his Mistress’ home. It was larger than anywhere he had ever lived before. Nestled on a cul-de-sac in a gated golf community, the two-story brick home appeared elegant and comfortable. He made good money, but he didn’t think he could afford to live in this house or neighborhood. He owned a mid-sized BMW, but she owned an S-class Mercedes. That was way out of his budget.

“Bring my things back here.”

He picked up one of her suitcases and rolled the other behind him as he walked in the general direction of her voice. She stood in the hall. Once she saw him, she moved into a room. Curious about her bedroom, he walked inside and looked around. There wasn’t much furniture. Cream-colored walls with bursts of burgundy and gold. A large king-sized bed was in the middle of the room, with a cream leather tufted headboard. Similar bold colors splashed across the bed; a burgundy and gold striped chair was tucked away in the corner along with a little table. The overall effect was soothing, even with the bite-sized explosions of color.

“Just bring it here.” She pointed to a short, four-legged stool.

He placed the bag on the stool. “Where do you want this one?” He nodded to the larger suitcase.

“Put it on the bed.”

He placed it where she could reach it at her leisure. The flight had been long, but first class was a lot more comfortable than coach. For some reason, she hadn’t rested well last night. That morning she’d been tired and irritable, snapping at him for not being able to read her mind. Even though she apologized after he’d explained there were going to be some things he didn’t know, she remained stiff and standoffish. The ride to her home from the airport had been utterly silent.