Sierra Cartwright - Doms of Dark Haven

As his anger abated, he felt a shift in her response. She no longer struggled against him. Instead she became compliant. She surrendered to his strength and determination.

Unbelievably that just made him crave her more.

He tasted the sweetness of her surrender and its hint of promise…

Slowly he ended the kiss.

He continued to hold her against him, one palm on her rear end, his other hand tangled in the thickness of her hair.

She looked up at him. Her eyes were wide, luminous. Last night the brown depths had been molten, imploring. This morning they were confused, half-angry, half-dazed with the need to submit.

Her mouth was parted and reddened from the brute force of his kiss. No amount of tenderness would erase the swelling.

Her chin was tipped back, her head tilted to the right.

“Have I made myself clear?”

“Your way or your way, Lord and Master?”

His jaw clenched. “Yeah,” he said, his voice deceptively easy. “My way or my way.”

“You've made yourself clear.”

“On your knees,” he said.

She blinked. Her mouth opened as if she was going to protest. As he released her, he put his hands on her small shoulders and pushed her toward the floor.

Yeah, this woman might be fiercely independent, but she was also a natural submissive. She could have told him to go to hell or asked for a new partner.

Instead she was on her knees, her appealing mouth only inches away from his crotch. Her hands were behind her neck, which caused her breasts to thrust forward. “Tell me what you want to do right now.”

She looked up at him. “Besides actually talk about how we'll continue to work together?”

“Besides that.”

“I want…” Her voice was slightly husky, the way it had been last night when she'd stopped fighting him and recognized him as her master. The sensuality of it made his erection strain against the denim.

She shook her head, and her magnificent hair fell in mussed disarray around her shoulders and trailed down her back. “I want to unfasten your jeans and take your cock in my mouth.”

“Do it.”

She moved deliberately, not looking away even as she pulled down on his zipper. “And I want to suck you dry.”

He had no intention of letting another man within fifty feet of her.

She lowered his zipper the rest of the way and then pulled his pants down.

“Master is already hard.”

Being hard seemed to be a constant state when she was around.

She took his cock in hand and stroked him until a drop of precum appeared at the slit. She licked the length of his cock, then touched the tip of her tongue to the droplet.

She made a soft purr of satisfaction, and he had to resist the need to slam his dick down her throat.

“Would Master mind opening his legs a little wider?”

This was what made her such a perfect slut. She wasn't afraid to ask for what she wanted. There were some women he'd had scenes with who were like puppets.

They wanted to be told what to do, when to do it, how to do it.

Mira posed a whole new set of challenges to him, to his authority. Give him a woman with spirit and fire any day.

He stepped out of his jeans and spread his legs. She moved in a little closer.

She cupped his tight balls in one palm and then pressed a finger against his perineum, that sensitive area between his testicles and his anus.

“Love the way Master smells,” she said. “Masculine.” She took his cock deeper into her mouth, sucking, pulling, drawing.

It was all he could do to hold on to control. He wanted to let her set the pace, but it was difficult not to just fuck her until his cum filled her mouth.

Taking a breath, he closed his eyes. Looking at her made him even hornier. In order to let her lead, he needed to just focus on the sensation.

He felt her forefinger against his anus. Involuntarily, his muscles tightened.

But she was as relentless as he could be.

She left his cock momentarily, long enough to moisten a fingertip. “Relax.”

The temptress pushed her finger into his ass. No other woman had ever done that. The sensation of her finger against his prostate while she sucked his cock pushed him over the edge.

His penis swelled in her small mouth. He held the back of her head while she licked below his cockhead.

He was done for.

His orgasm spilled hot semen into her mouth. As he pulsed, draining his balls, she swallowed. She gave little groans of pleasure that kept his climax going.

And she literally sucked him dry.

His cock went flaccid in her mouth. She licked every last drop of sticky liquid before gently removing her finger from his ass.

In that moment he questioned who was dom and who was sub. He'd do anything to keep her happy and have her give him a blowjob like that again.

She slowly drew back, and when she looked up at him, she licked her upper lip and smiled. Yeah, she knew exactly the power she had over him. Which only left him one option. “Time to work out.”

“Hope you ate enough to keep your strength up. Master.”

He helped her to her feet. “See you in the exercise room in ten minutes.”

He pulled on his pants and watched her saunter from the room. There wasn't a better word for it. She moved her hips provocatively, played with her hair, and took her sweet time.

She wanted to be noticed, and it worked.

He went into his room to grab a pair of shorts and put on some running shoes.

He was aware of her in her bedroom, the sound of the closet door closing. As much as he was trying to harness his libido, he was unable to picture anything but her naked ass up in the air, her body completely available for him to take.

By the time he hit the state-of-the-art gym, she was already there. She'd cranked up the stereo system. Lady Gaga blasted from the speakers, the song's beat seductive.

Mira was doing sprints on the exercise bike—one minute of full-on cardio, two minutes at a more casual pace—building endurance. She'd opted for so-skimpy-they-should-be-outlawed shorts and a white sports bra. Up until now she'd worn exercise pants that hit her calf and long-sleeved shirts. The sports bra showed her nipples. And the way she'd pinned up her hair showed the dew of perspiration on her back. He hit the treadmill at a nine-mile-an-hour pace. That ought to distract him.

Usually it would have. He'd find a rhythm and forget about everything, tuning into his breathing, pushing his body past the point he'd been the day before.

This time the self-discipline didn't work.

Mira cooled down, slowing the bike to an easy pace. Then, a few minutes later, she hopped off the seat. Her shorts had ridden up higher, and she didn't straighten them. They were about as good as a thong at this point.

She wiped off with a towel and then dragged over a mat to a place near the mirror, and only a few feet away from him.

She lay on her back and began to lift her legs in time with the song's beat.

He increased the treadmill's incline punishingly. Sweat dripped down his spine, but it had less to do with the heat and exercise than it had to do with Mira, who'd now grabbed a stability ball. She lay on top of the ball, her shoulders and upper back supported by the ball, her legs spread, giving him a good view of her feminine parts.

Enough was enough.

He hit the Stop button. His heart rate was still elevated, his breathing ragged.

But he had enough energy left to deal with his misbehaving sub. “Last night I promised you shower sex,” he said. He grabbed her around the wrists and pulled her to her feet.

“About time,” she said with a grin.

He raised a brow. “Provoking me?”

“Me?” She had the nerve to blink several times in innocence. “Just hot and sweaty…Sir.”

“My bedroom,” he said. He'd created a monster. “You may crawl, Mira.”

“Of course,” she said, instantly dropping to her hands and knees.

Once again, she won. She took her time crawling toward the door, exaggerating her movements, stopping once to readjust her shorts. The adjustment didn't make the nylon any less provocative.

He had a feeling if he bent her over that exercise ball and spanked her, she'd just behave even more scandalously.

In his room, she pulled off her clothes while he adjusted the water temperature.

The shower wasn't big enough for the two of them, which made it more than a little entertaining when he squeezed in the stall with her.

“May I wash Master's back?”

He grabbed the bar of spicy soap from the dish and handed it to her. He turned away from her and enjoyed the hell out of the way she ran her slick hands over his shoulders, across his shoulder blades, made circles on his back, then traced his spine up and slowly back down.

She soaped his buttocks, then crouched to wash his legs. Boldly she ran her hands back up again to cleanse his anus and scrotum.

Every touch was delicate, and her nails glanced off his skin. It was enough, just enough, to make him hard again.

He turned back to face her and took away the soap. After putting it in the dish, he adjusted the showerhead so that the water hit his back instead of her face.

Capturing her chin between a thumb and forefinger, he wiped water back from her face. Her lips parted in a quiet “thanks.”

Torin placed a leg between her thighs. As if it was the most natural thing in the world, she settled her pussy against him. “Hump my leg,” he told her.

“Uhmm…”

“You were naughty enough to fuck the mattress this morning,” he reminded her. “You've got three minutes to bring yourself off.”

“And…?”

“If you don't, it will be a long time before you're allowed the opportunity again.

I've been generous in allowing you to come. Don't push me.”

She tilted her body forward a bit and wrapped her hands around his neck.

“This feels totally naughty.”

“It is.”

She approached this task like she did all the other assignments he'd given her—gamely—if a bit nervously.

She moved against him a few times, her breasts swaying. After about thirty seconds, she gnawed on her lower lip. “I need a different angle.”

“Make yourself comfortable. Time is ticking. And don't even think of trying to fake it. I'll know.”

Mira rose onto her tiptoes. Using her hands, she spread her labia and leaned into him again, pressing her clit against his thigh. She moved slightly and then groaned.

“Better?”

“Oh God.”

He took that as a yes.

Her eyes closed, and she tipped her head back, getting into it more. Just watching her was enough to make him hot for her body again. “You've got about a minute and a half left,” he told her.

“I…”

He took mercy on her. He reached behind her and pushed a finger deep into her ass.

She screamed, but he knew it wasn't from pain.

She moved faster and faster.

“Grind it out,” he told her.

She did, rocking, making smaller and smaller circles on his thigh. He felt the tiny nub of her clit against him. Water sluiced over them both, and steam rose over the shower door.

“You've got twenty seconds to orgasm,” he said softly against her ear. When she didn't respond, he asked, “Mira?”

“Yes,” she gasped. “Yes…”

He drew her earlobe into his mouth.

She leaned even closer to him, and he supported her entire weight. He moved his finger in and out of her rear entrance, fucking her.

“Torin!”

“Take it, baby,” he urged her. “Come.”

There was no faking that orgasm. Her cry came from deep inside, and the slick of her cum against his skin was moist and real.

Her response thrilled him, made him feel possessive in a way he'd never experienced before.

She was right; they needed to talk: about the future, about what effect their BDSM relationship would have on their ability to work together.

One thing was certain: now that he'd had a taste of her, he had no intention of letting her go.

An hour later she found him outside. He was swinging an ax, splitting a log.

He'd cut down a small forest since they had arrived. It had nothing to do with needing to be warm. The house had central heat and a pile of wood stacked inside as well as out.