Diablo Blanco Club, Rite of First Claim Page 20

  If sexy and unattainable were the criteria for this gown, she’d done it. The contrast of silky, lightly tanned skin against lustrous white satin left him wondering where to look next. The skirt in both back and front dropped from the top of her hips on the sides down into a wide V. In the back, it dipped just enough to expose the twin dimples at the base of her spine, with the tip of the V practically pointed at the crease separating her bottom. The scoop created by the extra satin from the bodice swayed teasingly above it and tempted a man to move it aside for a longer look. In front, the V was the perfect frame for her tattoo. The edges skimmed the haunches and claws of her dragon, while the small pearl accent drew the eye to the sexy flesh hidden behind the cloth.

  He didn’t have to ask if she wore panties; there was no way she could. That fit perfectly within his plans for the outcome of this lesson. He’d ease her into play first.

  “Here, we’ll start with a few to show off the design.” Leading her to one of the horseshoe chairs, he stepped back, picked up his camera, and sighted through the viewfinder. “Hands down, Lys. Don’t hide that gorgeous tat.” He waited for her to drop her hands before pressing the button. The camera whirred and his body ached. She’d have to grow used to the camera being turned on her, just as her sister eventually learned that Bryce was never without paper and pencil when the mood to sketch struck.

  She looked stiff, uncomfortable. He needed her to relax and pretend the camera wasn’t in his hands. “So what made you decide to design wedding dresses?” he asked, his tone casual as he pressed the button and the digital camera whirred. A simple discussion between them as he moved around to try various angles.

  “A few friends of Bryce’s approach me after Mattie’s wedding,” Lyssa told him.

  “Okay, turn around. I want to get some shots of the back of the dress.” Mike set aside his camera and assisted her with her next pose. Kneeling in the chair, arms draped along the curved back, her cheek rested on her arms to display the provocative exposure of her spine, he stroked his fingers along the silky skin of her back. She arched beneath his touch; a sigh slipped free of her lips as he pressed a kiss to her nape.

  “Have to admit, her dress was unlike any wedding dress I’ve seen before or since,” Mike admitted, his tone impressed.

  Recomposing herself, Lyssa shrugged. “I believe every bride should look not only beautiful but sexy on her wedding day.”

  Mike chuckled. “I know Bryce’s mind was more on the wedding night than the reception.”

  Lyssa laughed, her face heating at the memory of her brother-in-law’s determination to send off the wedding guests long before the festivities had wound down. She eased up in the chair. “He was rather focused, wasn’t he?”

  “Definitely. Come on over here to the bed,” Mike directed her. He set his camera aside to smooth the slight creases in the skirt. “I don’t think a single man there blamed him.”

  Lyssa actually stopped and looked closely at him as she settled one hand around the thick post of the antique bed. “Even you?”

  Mike held her gaze for a moment. “To be honest, I was having my own share of fantasies at the time.” Behind one of the cameras mounted on a tripod, he adjusted the focus and angle. “But none of them centered around Mattie.”

  “Oh?” Lyssa watched him carefully.

  “Let’s just say the dress you wore that day conjured some wishful thinking,” he admitted as he moved to one of the cameras on a tripod. Lining up the shot, he pressed the button and listened to the autotimer engage.

  “Really?”

  Mike smiled at her and moved on to a second camera. He knew her body accepted what he could make her feel; he needed her mind to trust the feelings in her heart. “Oh yeah. I had a few fantasies of dragging you off.”

  He adjusted the focus on the second camera and started the automatic photo function before stepping over to the third tripod. “When you were a little girl, did you ever pretend to be a princess?”

  A soft smile lifted her lips. “After Mattie started school and we could play together there.” Shadows entered her eyes. “We weren’t allowed outside very often.”

  Silently cursing her bastard of a father, Mike wouldn’t allow her to dwell on the unhappy times of her childhood. He held her gaze, kept his emotions shackled, locked down. “What adventures did Princess Lyssa have?” he teased.

  A blush heated Lyssa’s cheeks when Mike looked through the viewfinder of the fourth camera. He pressed the button, then moved around it toward her. “Tell me, pet,” he coaxed. “Was Princess Lyssa a naughty young lady who needed rescuing by a handsome prince?”

  “Yes. No. I-It was just a game,” she stammered, avoiding his gaze.

  “Tell me your game.” His tone didn’t allow for misdirection. Based on the look in her eyes, and the way her left hand dropped to absently stroke the tattoo on her belly, Mike suspected that even as a young girl on the edge of puberty, Lyssa had imagined scenes of an unusual nature.

  Defiance gleamed in her eyes as she scowled up at him. “Mattie and I would play catch the dragon.”

  “Ah, and did you catch the dragon?” he asked. Before she could answer, he leaned forward and whispered in her ear, “Or did the dragon capture you?” A zing of triumph shot through him as he watched her tremble, the gooseflesh rising along her neck, arms, and down her back.

  He stepped away and lifted the camera he’d set on the table. “Take down your hair for me, pet.” He lifted the camera. The click and whir of the shutter blended with the sounds from the other cameras around the room.

  For a moment she was confused. “I thought you wanted me to wear it up?”

  “I’ve changed my mind.” Mike didn’t elaborate, merely waited for her to comply.

  Cognizant of the subdued lighting and the cameras surrounding her, she raised her hands and tugged the ivory hair sticks free, then removed the few hairpins she’d used to secure the French roll. Mike held his hand out for the items and set them on the table between the chairs. The soft waves brushed her shoulders and tickled her back as she pushed her fingers through her hair.

  “In your game, how did the princess catch the dragon?”

  Lyssa smiled as she recalled the adventures she and her sister and occasionally some of their friends had entertained themselves with at school. “It depended on the type of dragon we went after.” The bag of colored stones and glass beads they’d used to determine the dragon was still somewhere in her house. “The person playing the dragon would pick the color from a bag of colored stones and glass beads Mattie and I had collected.”

  “So what types of dragons did you and Mattie catch?” He moved around the bed to one of the nightstands flanking it.

  “White and gold dragons were easy to persuade to help in battles against evil princes and wizards trying to take over the kingdom.” Lyssa wrapped her arms around the bedpost as she watched him open one of the drawers. “Red dragons were harder to reason with, but if you could figure out the riddles and promised them treasure, they would help. Green dragons were trickier. You had to prove your honesty through tests and challenges.”

  “What about black dragons?” Mike asked as he began to toss items onto the bed.

  Lyssa swallowed heavily and admitted, “We didn’t try to catch black dragons.”

  Heat pinked Lyssa’s cheeks as a pair of white leather restraints bounced onto the ivory counterpane in front of her. She tried not to think about the other items Mike had produced, but it was impossible. The nipple clamps at either end of a string of pearls made the tips of her breasts sting in anticipation. She swallowed a moan when she spotted the graduated curves of an anal plug. The glossy black color looked sinister against the alabaster scarf beside it.

  “What type of dragon would you choose to be?” Lyssa asked, although considering the toys he’d laid out, she probably wouldn’t be too off base if she guessed.

  He held her gaze as his fingers stroked over the ebony plug. “Black, pet.”

  The muscles
of her bottom twitched, and her empty sheath clenched and ached for him to fill it. Thoughts spun, and excitement spilled through her system. Lyssa tore her gaze from Mike’s and looked at the other toys on the duvet.

  He followed her gaze. “The princess strayed too close to the caves,” Mike offered as he picked up the length of silk on which her focus had returned.

  “Are we finished with the pictures?” The soft click and hum of the autowinders emphasized the quiet of the cavernous studio. The subdued lighting only added to the fire stirring in her center. Darkness filled the rest of the converted warehouse. The barrier that closed off the reception area allowed none of the afternoon sunlight inside.

  “Only just starting.” Mike stepped behind her. “Close your eyes, Lys.”

  Lyssa hesitated.

  “Trust me.”

  It wasn’t a question of trust. No, she trusted him; she simply didn’t trust the emotions he professed to feel. She knew this couldn’t last. In the hidden gallery at the Folly, he’d whispered he loved her. It hadn’t been the first and probably wouldn’t be the last time he professed to loving her.

  She hadn’t taken his words for granted. She’d hoarded each confession from him, kept it tucked away in her memory so she could remember them after he was gone. But she continued to keep her own feelings carefully locked away, acutely aware that if she gave in and Mike didn’t leave, if she allowed him to tether himself to her, he would be the one condemned to a life he’d grow to resent when he realized she wasn’t worth loving.

  Lyssa shut her eyes. She tensed briefly at the brush of silk against her cheeks and over her nose, but the thought of not being able to see fanned the ardor already simmering inside her. Two tugs and a bit of pressure settled the silk over her eyes. His fingers stroked her loosened hair. “We dragons love our gold.”

  Frozen in place, Lyssa fought to still the moan trembling on her lips when his fingertips skimmed along the edge of her skirt. The heat of his touch taunted her nipples until they ached for the return of his attention. When he stepped closer, she couldn’t keep from arching into him. The heat between her thighs intensified at the feel of silk against leather. She’d recognized the full-sleeved shirt and black leather pants he’d changed into earlier as the same ones he’d worn at her sister’s collaring ceremony. Instead of the round-toed boots he’d worn during the ceremony, though, tonight Mike was barefoot like her.

  “Hold out your hands, princess.” His breath warmed her throat as his lips nibbled at the sensitive curve.

  The scrape of leather against fabric as he leaned around her to collect the cuffs seemed much louder with her eyes covered. The click of the cameras continued to go off in a rhythmic pattern. One. Two. Three. Four. She’d never dealt with the overwhelming sensory shift a blindfold created. The sounds and scents around her heightened the longer her eyes remained covered. Even the simple act of turning to face him held an element of mystery since she could never be sure she actually faced him.

  The cuffs slipped over her wrists, and the rattle of the buckles overwhelmed the near silence in the studio. A pulse of anticipation startled her. “The magazine isn’t looking for porn shots, Mike,” she taunted, desperate to regain a modicum of will.

  “Remember your place, princess,” Mike replied as he moved away from her.

  “My place?” Lyssa snorted. She lifted her hands toward the blindfold. The temptation to play along with his game frightened her. Nerves jangled as the level of excitement climbed inside her.

  “Don’t move.” His tone held the same power he’d exuded every night since the Club.

  Lyssa fought the urge to submit further and instead ignored his tone and command. Turning back toward the bed, she began to fumble with the silk. A firm swat on her butt stilled her movements. Lyssa kept her hands raised, fingers trembling on the knot, ready to be free of the silk covering her eyes. “What was that for?” Excitement thickened her voice, and the crease between her thighs grew slick with her cream. Her craving to please him grew.

  Mike ignored her question. “Testing me?”

  “No.”

  “Then don’t move.” Mike’s hands settled over hers. Instead of shifting them to her sides, he eased her hands higher over her head. “Perhaps you need a reminder of who your master is?”

  The slick heat between her thighs increased. “I thought you were playing a dragon?”

  Mike kept quiet. Lyssa cocked her head to the side at the rattle of metal on metal. A brief tug on her arms confirmed her suspicions that Mike had somehow secured her cuffs near to the top of the bedpost. He stepped away as soon as he finished and moved far enough that she couldn’t detect his exact location based on the warmth of his body.

  The soft click of one of the cameras recalled her to why she’d agreed to pose in the first place. “Are these photos really necessary? Don’t you have enough by now?”

  Somewhere to the side of her, she detected the rasp of fabric over flesh. Was he taking his shirt off? The sound of leather didn’t make that swishy, whispery sound. She listened again, but it was gone.

  “I’ll share them with you, pet.”

  She undulated close and stroked her body against his, teasing the thick bulge of his cock as it strained to be free of the leather confining it.

  The feel of his head lowered near hers allowed her lips to find the edge of his jaw and press kisses along it.

  Despite the heavy bulge nudging her belly, Mike held steady. His fingers smoothed along the clear band that secured the bodice before he released it and slid his hands beneath the soft cups to caress her breasts. “Dragons like to play with their sacrifices, princess.”

  She stiffened slightly beneath the caress of his fingers. The whir of the cameras was audible over her increased breath. Her heartbeat sped up as the drape of fabric was lifted over her head, and the crossed bodice lowered, revealing her breasts. The rough skin on his palms and fingers rasped over nipples that strained for attention. She trembled at the rasp of his tongue, first over one nipple, then the other. Heat simmered at the apex of her thighs. She squeezed them together to still the ache. “Sacrifice?” she croaked.

  Mike chuckled. “I spotted you. Way up in your tower, princess. First time I laid eyes on you I couldn’t wait to get my hands on your sweet ass.”

  “But—”

  His mouth whispered against hers. “Exactly. Yours is so nice and round and full, Highness. Just perfect for spanking—or fucking. And you do like to be spanked.”

  Lyssa wasn’t sure how to respond. She hesitated, then returned his kiss.

  Mike nipped her bottom lip with his teeth. “Princess?”

  She sighed. “Yes. I like when you spank me.”

  “I’m glad you enjoy it. Perhaps if you’re a very good captive, I’ll warm your backside.”

  “You won’t spank me now?” Lyssa flinched at the disappointment in her voice.

  With the blindfold over her eyes, she couldn’t see a thing, but the amusement she heard in his voice assured her a smile probably lifted his lips. “No, not now.” Mike found the hooks that held the skirt in place. Loosening them, he eased the dress over her hips and helped her step out of it. She heard it land on fabric, so Lyssa hoped he’d tossed the dress onto one of the nearby chairs. Her legs wobbled as his fingers inspected the plump lips of her pussy.

  “Hmm, no panties, princess?”

  “The dress doesn’t allow for them.”

  “Or perhaps you hoped this dragon would be distracted by how wet you are?”

  He smoothed one hand over her ass while the other drifted to her wet crease. The insides of her thighs were coated in her juices; she could feel it.

  “You weren’t serious, were you? I mean about…you know, my butt?” Lyssa croaked even as she shifted her weight from one foot to the other and arched closer.

  Mike paused, and the hand occupied with cataloguing the contours of her ass eased between her cheeks to tease his fingers over her anus. “Mmm. Yes.” His mouth covered hers, coa
xing her lips to part and her tongue to twine with his. Long minutes later, he released her and moved his mouth to her throat.

  “I’ve never—I haven’t—” She stumbled, unsure what to say.

  “I know. A sweet virgin sacrifice for this dragon.” He leaned forward, rubbed his nose against hers, and then nuzzled along her cheek and jaw. “You’ll love it, princess. The pain blends with the pleasure. Like the sting of the paddle on your bum.”

  Even as he pulled back, her mind whirled at the idea, the imagined painful pinch. Determined to retain control, she took a deep breath and nodded. “What do I have to do?” she asked.

  “Relax, but don’t come,” Mike commanded.

  “Don’t come?” She heard several beeps but couldn’t figure out what they meant.

  “Correct. No matter what I do or how much you want to. You aren’t allowed to climax.”

  She flexed her fingers around the post, and braced her feet, toes curled into the soft rug covering the polished wood flooring. “For how long?” She could do this.

  “Until I give you permission.”

  “And if I can’t handle it? If I need to climax?”

  “Stop yourself, Highness. You did well last weekend; you can do it again.” Mike cupped her breasts, fondling the warm curves and plucking at the erect centers.

  “Wha-what about our safe word?”

  “If you think you can’t hold out, use it.”

  He took his time to explore the soft mounds filling his hands.

  A drawn-out moan was her only response as Mike settled his mouth over her breast and sucked the firm nipple inside. It felt so good. The way his mouth suckled at the taut peak, his teeth nibbled on the sensitive tip, his tongue pushed it up so it rubbed against the ridged roof of his mouth. Between the fingers of his other hand, he pinched and tugged her other nipple. Lyssa couldn’t hold back her husky moans or keep from arching against him.

  She shifted beneath his touch, undulated closer, rocking her hips forward to brush the thick jut of his erection. Releasing her nipple, he moved his hand from her bottom to her hip. “Stay still, princess.”