Diablo Blanco Club, Rite of First Claim Page 11
His voice caressed her skin, drawing the tiny hairs covering her body to attention. She moved without thinking, pushed aside the bedding and swung her legs off the mattress. In the quiet of the room, her footsteps were silent on the carpet as she crossed the few feet between them to stand in front of Mike. The smooth lines of his chest drew her gaze, where it lingered on the muscled contours of his abdomen before dropping to the distinctive bulge behind the fly of his jeans. The instant she spotted the red leather paddle resting across his thighs, though, her feet shifted, intent on retreat.
“Stay.” Again he commanded, and she complied.
Lyssa waited, her common sense waking and trying to convince her to move away. But she’d made a deal. One she wouldn’t go back on, no matter how much her instincts told her she should. As Mike’s gaze traced her sleep-mussed hair before surveying the rest of her, she had to admit his slow perusal was arousing.
“Never leave your master unless given permission.” His tone was level, calm. He could have been offering advice about stock prices or the weather. “I had decided last night to forego the two punishments you earned, until I awoke this morning.”
Lysaa dropped her gaze to the paddle in his lap. “But how could I have earned punishment for breaking rules I never knew?” she blurted out.
“You broke rule number one when you approached Kringle last night.”
“But I didn’t belong—”
Mike rose from the chair, crowding close to her. Lyssa remained in place, making no attempt to put space between them.
“You’ve been mine for the last four years, love. You just refused to acknowledge it.”
“You certainly didn’t stick around for very long,” Lyssa sniped.
Mike held her gaze, his expression intent. “I apologized for leaving. I explained it was important, but it won’t happen again.”
The moment she rolled her eyes and allowed a sneer to twist her mouth, Mike’s gaze narrowed. She wasn’t going to argue the situation. There was no doubt in her mind that Mike’s promise was empty.
Cool leather coasted along the outside of her thigh before moving around to caress the curve of her bottom. “I told you then, no other men touch you.”
Lyssa cursed the jump in her pulse at the idea of Mike swatting her backside. The paddle he held in his grip kept drawing her gaze. What would it feel like against her bare skin? How would it sound as it moved through the air when he swung it? Would he have a heavy or light hand when he applied it? Did she even want to have him spank her?
The excitement tingling through her was disconcerting. With the number of times she’d been beaten by her father or watched Aaron Lawrence beat her mother or sister, the idea of a man taking a length of leather-covered wood to her against her will should have pissed her off. But it didn’t. If there was one thing she could count on, it was that Mike, no matter how angry or irritated or annoyed he might be, would never physically harm her. Despite knowing that, she still asked, “You aren’t actually thinking of spanking me?”
Mike ignored her question and asked one of his own. “Did you approach another man with the intent of having sex with him?”
Lyssa grimaced, and although she knew she probably would never have been able to tolerate Dayton Kringle’s touch, she nodded.
“I want to hear the words, pet.”
Her mouth went dry, and she swallowed. “Yes.”
“Did you belong to me at the time you entertained him?” Mike tapped the paddle against the outside of his leg.
“In a way, but your—”
The paddle was beneath her chin, gently raising her face to his in order for his gaze to hold hers. “Yes or no.”
It took everything within her to disregard the thrill skittering through her at the firm tone and direct look he leveled on her. The blend of power and calm he exuded was nearly palpable, and she complied before she’d consciously decided to. “Yes.”
“You’ll receive five swats for the first infraction. Your second was a result of attempting to deny ownership.”
She remained mute, knowing her taunts had been designed to do just that. Mike acknowledged her silent agreement with a curt nod. “Very good. The consequences for that will be three swats.” The paddle returned to his side while his gaze moved slowly from the flushed features of her face to the tips of her toes as they curled into the plush carpet. “Another two swats should remind you never to leave your master without his permission. How many swats is that in total?”
“Ten.”
He took a step closer and pressed a soft kiss to her lips. When he pulled back, Lyssa felt herself tilt toward him, wanting more. The fingers of his left hand cupped her chin, holding her still as his head dipped and he nuzzled her neck for a moment before stepping away. “Tell me our safe word.”
Her answer whispered out on a quiet moan. “Dragon.”
Another abrupt nod noted her response. “When should you use it?” he asked.
A deep breath helped clear her head, but her body still tingled at the thought of Mike spanking her. If she focused on the questions and kept her cool, she knew she could get through the next few minutes with dignity. The temptation to argue over the punishment still simmered, but she’d made a deal. For the next thirty days, she would allow Mike control of her body. It would be up to her to prevent investing her heart as well.
Before Mike could prompt her, Lyssa answered, “I should use the safe word if the situation becomes uncomfortable or unbearable for me to continue.”
Mike used the paddle to motion in the direction of the bed. “Good. Turn around and stand near the side of the bed.”
A foot or two from the bed, his command for her to stop halted her. “Lean over and brace your elbows on the bed. Keep your back straight and spread your feet shoulder width apart.”
Heat seared her face as she did as instructed. The rumpled sheets cushioned her forearms, and when she would have dropped her gaze to the mattress, Mike stopped her.
“Chin parallel to the floor, pet.” He moved into position on her left, the paddle in his right hand as his left adjusted the tilt of her chin before sliding down to caress her dangling breasts and then stroke along the taut muscles of her back to the generous curve of her bottom. “When the paddle makes contact with your ass, count off each strike.”
“Okay.”
His fingers returned to her chin to turn her face up to his. “When we are dealing with role-play, discipline, or punishment, you will refer to me as Master. You will answer with either yes or no unless you wish to ask a question. In which case, you will request permission to query by saying, ‘May I speak, Master?’ Understood?”
The look on his face, the tone of his voice, even the way he held his body—upright, stiff, resolute—told Lyssa any attempt at playfulness or sarcasm would not be tolerated. This was a side of him she had never been exposed to, and instinct warned her it was the side most dangerous to her heart. She replied with a quick nod and, “Yes, Master.”
He released her chin and repeated his earlier instruction. “Now, when the paddle makes contact with your ass, count off each strike.”
“Yes, Master.”
“Very good, pet. Face forward.”
Lyssa found herself staring down the hallway toward the foyer of her house. She twisted the bedding between her clenched fists, and her body stiffened as she waited for the first blow. In the few times she’d been able to convince Ben and Vance to let her experiment, they’d started with gentle swats and worked up to something heavier.
Mike didn’t do that.
The paddle made a distinct whoosh-SMACK as it moved through the air and landed against her bottom. The sting made her gasp, but she made sure to count aloud. “One.”
“Louder. I want to hear you,” Mike informed her. “Let’s try that again.”
Whoosh-SMACK!
A yelp escaped her, and Lyssa winced. “One.” Her voice filled the room as the sting radiated across her bottom.
Whoosh-SMACK!
A filament of heat crept from her bum through her torso and into her jiggling breasts, her nipples growing hard. “Two.”
Whoosh-SMACK!
“Three.” Lyssa began to breathe harder as the burn spread across her bottom. The temptation to wriggle sizzled through her muscles. Even as the tingle and heat built into arousal, the fourth swat landed. Whoosh-SMACK!
“F-four.” She squeezed her eyes shut and bit her lip, hoping to still the need coiling within her. He’d bested her twice earlier, pushing her to orgasm despite the efforts she’d used to stop it. She couldn’t allow him to do it again.
“Chin up.”
Until Mike spoke, she hadn’t realized she’d dropped her head. She lifted her chin again so it was parallel with the floor as the paddle landed. The blow vibrated through her lower body and into her torso. Her breath stopped with the flutter and pulse of muscles between her thighs. Gasping, she counted, “Fi-five.”
The heat of Mike’s callused hand against her hot flesh brought a cry to her lips. In spite of the sting, she couldn’t prevent herself from shifting closer to him, pressing her bottom into his touch, increasing the tingle shooting through her pussy. Moisture pooled between her thighs. When his fingers slipped lower, Lyssa dropped her head again and moaned.
“You’re wet, love. Are you finding this pleasurable?” Amusement filled his words.
It was impossible to deny considering how plump and sensitive her nether lips were. Breath uneven, voice shaky, Lyssa stammered, “Yes, Mi—Master,” she hastily corrected herself, but the way his touch stilled, she knew he’d noted the slip.
“Five more to go.” His fingers withdrew after applying a quick tap to her clit and a pinch to her throbbing bottom. “Chin up, baby. Remember, I want to hear you count.”
A whimper escaped her lips, but Lyssa lifted her chin and prepared for the next swat.
“And you may not come.”
Her eyes went wide, her body swayed, and she nodded her understanding, words locked in her throat at the thought of having to hold back even longer when her body so desperately wanted to explode.
The paddle rose and fell more quickly this time, with Lyssa barely finishing one number before she had to say the next. Whoosh-SMACK! Whoosh-SMACK! Whoosh-SMACK! Whoosh-SMACK! Whoosh-SMACK!
Instantly after the last strike landed and Lyssa gasped out, “Ten,” her knees buckled and she toppled half-on, half-off the bed. Her head swam, her breath labored in and out of her lungs, and her body shook uncontrollably as she struggled to hold off the climax boiling low in her belly.
“Stand up.” Mike’s voice crackled with authority.
It took her several seconds to gather her trembling legs beneath her and push herself to her feet. The burn across her ass increased. Her body ached to climax, but she fought the twisting, churning fire between her thighs. She refused to relinquish control to him. If she gave in to the desire to let him lead, it would end in disaster. This was for the best. Taking shallow breaths, she felt herself stagger, but she remained upright. She’d play the game, but she wouldn’t succumb to the pleasure of believing in the false promises her heart so desperately wanted to believe.
The heat from his body warmed her back. “Turn around. Face me.”
She gnawed at her bottom lip to distract her mind from the throb of her paddled flesh. The pulse matched the flex and release of her internal muscles as she battled the urge to come. Moisture coated her thighs; the smell of sex and arousal swirled in the evening air as she carefully turned and faced Mike.
Flames glittered in his eyes. The flush of excitement tinted the skin stretched taut over his cheekbones. At eye level with her, his nipples, buried in inviting chocolate curls, were hard, tempting her to lean forward and nibble at the swollen bud nearest her.
“Tell me what you did to be punished.”
Her eyes snapped up to his. Irritation mingled with regret as she watched his expression grow remote, cool. “I broke rule number one.” She kept her tone unemotional, not signaling any of the penance she felt for disobeying him. The thought alone baffled her. Penance and regret had never followed the abuses meted out by her father.
Mike seemed to understand her uncertainty. “You’re confused, aren’t you, pet?” He stepped forward and caressed her cheek with his fingertips. “You feel conflicted about the pleasure you find in letting me set the rules, don’t you?”
Her nod was hesitant. “Yes, Master.”
He cupped her cheek, his thumb stroking over her chin and down her throat, then back up. “As much as you’ve been in charge of your own business for so many years, you’re finding it uncomfortable to discover you don’t resent the role I’ve assumed.” Without waiting for her to confirm his analysis, he continued, “Fighting me for control will only make it harder for you to follow my instructions.” The fingers of his right hand moved between her thighs, parting the swollen lips and coasting over her engorged clit.
Lyssa moaned, sinking her teeth into her bottom lip as she quivered before him.
“You say you trust me, pet, but you don’t trust yourself enough to let me guide you completely.”
Lyssa tensed at his words, wary as she watched him without responding.
Mike eased his touch from her body, his gaze holding hers as he continued. “My pleasure should be your primary interest. My pleasure is your pleasure, Lyssa, but you must let me have control in order for you to truly enjoy submission. If you don’t let me lead, you fight both me and yourself. And you will lose every time.”
He waited for most of the tension to leave her body before giving his next instruction. “Get on the bed. Lay on your back.”
The sting from the contact of her reddened bottom with the duvet brought tears to her eyes, but she blinked, focusing her gaze on Mike as he stepped away from the bed and stripped off his jeans. The ache inside her intensified as the mattress shifted beneath his weight when he lay down beside her, close yet not touching her.
Lyssa lay faceup across the bed, her body one huge, quivering nerve. She paced her breathing, trying to gain a measure of control, to stave off the orgasm clawing at her center. Heat radiated from Mike’s hand with every stroke he made along her body. Never once did his skin make contact with hers. His hand hovered over her, allowing the warmth to penetrate her skin. First one breast, then the other, down her torso to her belly, the curve beneath her navel, and finally the damp petals of her sex.
Sobbing, Lyssa arched upward, nudging his hand between her thighs where he used his fingers to part her plump folds and settle over the wet entrance. She clenched her thighs, clamping his fingers between her nether lips while the swollen petals fluttered and flexed with need. Then he withdrew them.
Taking his time, he collected a condom from the nightstand and rolled it on before finally rising over her. Lyssa yearned for more, her body on fire with denied passion. His lips brushed hers as he whispered, “Let go, Lyssa. You may come.”
Six simple words and the world exploded behind her eyes. Her body bowed upward, the fire in her core coalescing with the heat of her ass. She pressed her hips against Mike, pushing and rubbing her belly over his thick cock, trying to increase the sensations bombarding her nerve endings, aching to feel him stretching her empty sheath. She wrapped her hands around him, her fingers clutching his damp skin and the muscles bunched beneath, shifting as he moved over her. The coarse hair on his legs scraped the inside of her thighs as she tangled her legs around his and held him tight against her.
Incoherent sounds spilled from her lips, somewhere between cries and gasps. Lyssa rode the first wave of climax, dropped into the trough that followed, and then started the climb along the crest of the second swell of sensations undulating outward from her core.
Her heart swelled, the sensations terrifying in their intensity as she marveled at how much this man could potentially come to mean to her and just how dangerous the agreement she’d made could become.
Mike waited for her breathing to even out before h
e dropped his gaze to the dewy skin below her belly button. Propped on one forearm over her, he stroked the dragon’s gold and copper scales with the fingers of his free hand. He’d noticed it the night before but hadn’t asked about it. “When did you have this done?” The softening of the snout and the sinuous, sensual positioning of the limbs gave the creature an earthy and decidedly feminine rather than fierce aspect. A primal part of him stirred to see her bearing his mark. Or something similar.
“Seven—no, six years ago.” Her voice was sleepy, unfocused, as she lifted her hand from beside her head to linger atop his hand. “It appealed to me when the artist created it.” The tips of her fingers skimmed along his as Mike traced the crimson and black rose cradled in the claws of one forepaw near where the dragon’s head rested.
When her free hand moved down and urged him to move, Mike sat up, exposing the inked art on his lower abdomen to her gaze.
“I was surprised by this. That we both have similar tattoos,” she told him.
Mike glanced down at the artwork decorating his pelvis and cock.
“Yours is masculine and intense. Its expression reminds me of an animal battling nature,” Lyssa confessed, eyes slumberous but slowly regaining the heat of arousal. Her fingers traced the design.
Mike pressed closer to her. His sheathed cock, still hard, nudged the wet folds of her sex. A tremor moved through her body as he smoothed his fingers over her dragon’s gold and copper haunches and along its tail. When the tip of his penis blocked him, he gripped it and used the latex-covered head to finish his exploration along the soft skin just above her mound.
Her breathing hitched, and she took a moment to recover before continuing, “It almost looks like the dragon carved above the doorway to the Club, with the green vines of a climbing rose wrapped around it.” Her fingers traced the four blooms along the greenery, each a blend of copper and gold the exact color of her dragon and a definite contrast to the ebony and crimson body of his beast.
Unlike the way the tail on her tattoo curled around her dragon, his dragon’s tail disappeared into the curls at the base of his penis before reappearing along the shaft of his cock and ending in a lethal-looking barb on his cockhead. The same head teasing the nude flesh he wanted to sink into. But he’d wait. She needed to be pushed just a bit more.