Master Me (14 page)

“It hurts but it’s not terrible. I’ve kept the ointment on it like you said to in your note.” She’d take up that pathetic note with him later when their emotions weren’t so high. She sensed any misstep might still send them down separate paths.

His fingers trailed lightly over her bruised skin. A tremble shuddered down her body.

“Hurt?” he asked.

She shook her head. Hurt? No, it felt so good. He continued his ministrations, dragging his fingertips lightly over every part of her ass, down her thighs, up her inner thighs. She desperately wanted him to touch her and sink his fingers into her hungry pussy. Already, tingles engulfed it and her folds filled with cream.

She moaned quietly as his fingers detoured to slide along the underside of her cheeks instead. Her breath left her as his lips touched her tender ass. Good lord, her 102

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womb throbbed with need. She desperately wanted to press her legs together to ease some of the clenching desire.

If he tried to make her wait for an orgasm leaving wouldn’t be an issue. She’d kill him. “I’m not going to Chicago,” she told him.

“Good.” His hands slid around her, one flattening on her belly while the other cupped her mound. As he continued to kiss her abused flesh, he slipped a finger inside her folds.

“Yes,” she hissed, trying to press into the touch. His hands held her still. Her head dropped backward. Blindly, she reached for his shoulders behind her for support.

Slowly, he explored her liquid cleft, drawing shudders from her surrendered body.

“I’m staying with Cress Construction,” she panted.

“Even better.”

“Max…I don’t ever want to leave you.”

She heard his desk drawer open but didn’t have time to wonder about it before he lifted her into his arms. A crinkle of plastic at her side told her all she needed to know.

Carefully, he carried her to the leather couch and placed her on her stomach.

“Max…”

“Hush.” He slipped a throw pillow under her hips. Gently, he parted her, dragging his thumbs over her weeping pussy. She needed him. She needed to be fully united with him again, to know the threat of separation had passed.

“Please,” she whispered as his fingers slid ever-so slowly in and out of her. He scraped over her clit and she cried out. “Please fuck me, Master.”

Relief filled her as he climbed on the couch behind her, pausing only to shove down his pants and yank on a condom. Urgency drove them. There was no time to fully disrobe. No more time to be apart. They needed to be together now.

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Despite the force driving them, Max gently probed her folds, parting her with the thick head of his cock. Slowly, he pushed inside her, parting her tight tissues, inch by torturous inch until he was fully seated against her. Violent tremors engulfed her.

“More,” she begged as her channel flooded and fisted around him. “You won’t hurt me, just please…”

Her entreaties didn’t sway him from his slow invasion and even slower retreat. She clawed the couch cushion. Desperately she tried to gain purchase so she could surge backward into him. His hand on the small of her back kept her where she was. “I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. “But I can’t let you go.”

His surges grew stronger. It still wasn’t enough. She struggled against his restraining hand, the battle raising her arousal to a frenzy. The more she fought the closer her release drew, coiling tighter and tighter.

“Yes,” she cried as it dragged him into the furious madness. Mindlessly, he pistoned forward, his balls slapping forward into her clit. A tingle of pain sketched over her ass, immediately replaced by fiery pleasure. It reached down into her pussy, flowing over her. Her orgasm rushed over her and she screamed, overtaken with the joy. A moment later, Max grunted his completion, stiffening deep inside her.

Tenderly, he kissed the back of her neck and slipped to the side, disposing of the condom and pulling her into his arms. He sighed but she heard his amusement in it. He toyed with her spent pussy as he spoke, reigniting the newly extinguished flames. “Not only did I fail you but I’ve trained you poorly. There is no way I would ever have been able to give you up to another. From the second you agreed to submit to me, you were mine and only mine. You’re perfectly made to fill my needs and no other’s. You alone are fully able to give me complete pleasure.”

She pressed her cheek into his shirt, loving that they’d both been so overcome that they hadn’t undressed. She smiled through muzzy happiness. “I see your dilemma. I’m a flawed slave.”

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“You’re perfect for me.” His hands abandoned her cleft only to appear in front of her face when she lifted up to protest in an un-submissive-like manner. Her complaint froze on her lips as she saw the gold dangling before her. She shifted her gaze to her tentative gray eyes.

“If I put this on you this time, it stays forever. I wasn’t wholly truthful when I gave this to you before. A collar like this is as binding as a wedding ring. My vows to love and protect and cherish you, to always be faithful to you are as binding as wedding vows. And I do love you, Ana. Imagining life without you… I need you beside me.

Forever.”

She didn’t need anything else. Sitting up, she lifted her hair. “I love you, Max.

Collar me.”

“I love you, my beautiful submissive. Everything I have is yours. I’m everything you need. Everything you’ve searched for. You never have to search again. You never have to say goodbye.”

Happiness exploded to every empty space in her body as he fastened the collar.

His. “Yes, Master,” she sighed and lost herself in a kiss that promised everything else they hadn’t said. But there was plenty of time for words. Later. They had forever.

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About the Author

When it comes to books and movies, Brynn Paulin has one rule: There must be a happy ending. After that one requirement, anything else goes. And it just might in any of her books.

Brynn lives in Michigan with her husband and two children who love her despite her occasional threats to smite them. They humor her and let her think she's a goddess…as long as she provides homemade chocolate chip cookies on a regular basis.

She attributes her writing success to Seventies music, her local road construction crews, a trusty notebook, and of course, her husband and willing research subject, AKA Mr. Inspiration.

Brynn welcomes comments from readers. You can find her website and email address on her author bio page at www.ellorascave.com.

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Also by Brynn Paulin

All Chained Up

On Your Knees

Wedding Jitters

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