Yes, Master, page 4
“You move like a dancer.” He said that as though it was the most amazing thing he’d ever seen.
I took it as a compliment. “Thank you.”
He offered both hands, and I took them. Then he pulled me close, closer until my body was almost touching his. “I want to kiss you right now. I haven’t stopped thinking about it since we got off the plane.”
Then what was he waiting for? “Kiss me.”
Something flashed in his eyes again. Hard male hunger, perhaps. Whatever it was, it made my body tingle all over. “If I kiss you, I won’t stop there.”
“What are you trying to say?”
His palm slid up my arm, up to my neck. Higher. His fingers curled into a fist, catching my hair. He gently pulled, easing my head closer to his. My insides did somersaults. When his mouth finally found mine, I actually moaned. His lips were soft, moist. His kiss was patient, an exploration. I explored too, slipping my tongue into his mouth, tasting him. A warmth flooded my body, and a pulsing need pounded between my legs.
I wanted Tristan Stark to be my first. I wanted him so badly, even though I knew he would probably break my heart. At the moment, I didn’t care. All I could think about was how I felt as his tongue glided along mine, caressing me intimately, how thrilled I felt to be held in place, unable to move my head.
All too soon, he ended the kiss. His lids were heavy. His mouth was still close, temptation like I’d never known.
“Kiss me again, please,” I whispered.
“Not yet.” Still holding one of my hands, he turned, leading me back up the path, toward the house. “Let’s go inside.”
My legs were a little wobbly as I followed his lead. We went up the steps, across the deck—our dirty dishes were gone—back into the house, down a hallway.
We stopped at a closed door.
4
Tristan didn’t open the door right away. He seemed to be hesitating. I wondered why. It couldn’t be that he was embarrassed. What was there to be embarrassed about? Was he having second thoughts? Was he thinking I didn’t want to have sex with him?
I was assuming the room on the other side of that door was a bedroom. I smiled, making it clear I had some notion what was about to happen, and I was happy about it.
Holding the doorknob, he leveled a serious look at me. “I need to show you something now. Before I open this door, I want to make it clear you are free to leave whenever you want.”
“O-okay.” Why the speech?
He gave me one final lust-filled look, then twisted the knob and pushed. Instead of going in, he moved to the side, allowing me to enter first. Reaching around my shoulder, he flipped a light switch and the room filled with soft light.
I took two steps in and stopped. My gaze meandered around the room, the walls papered with an elegant damask in shades of gray. Against one wall was a big wooden X, chains ending in cuffs bolted to the top and bottom of each end of the boards. In the center stood a huge wood table. Above the table—which I assumed was not meant for dining—hung the most beautiful crystal chandelier I’d ever seen. The twinkling light flickering off the crystals reflected on the glossy table’s top. Against one side wall was a large armoire. And the other was a thing that looked kind of like the kneeler I remembered from my grandmother’s Catholic church.
Overall, the room was both exotic and scary at the same time. I wasn’t sure I wanted to know what happened in there.
“Do you know anything about domination and submission?” Tristan asked. He was standing a small distance away, watching me closely.
“Um, no. Nothing.” I wasn’t sure I wanted to know anything about domination and submission. My gaze flicked from one thing to another. Could I imagine myself in this room? Would I enjoy it?
My stomach knotted. My palms were sweating. I dragged them down the sides of my legs.
“When we were kissing outside, you wanted more,” he said.
“I . . . yes, I did.”
“This is what comes with ‘more.’ ” He stepped a little closer. “I don’t have sex, Alice. I don’t make love. I play. I explore my submissive’s limits, find that thin line between pleasure and pain, ecstasy and torture.”
This explained why he’d never been “in love.” “I never . . . would have guessed you . . . this . . .”
He stepped closer still. “Would you like to leave now, Alice? Have you seen enough? Or do you still want more?”
Did I?
My heart thudded against my breastbone and I felt a little disoriented, a little like Lewis Carroll’s Alice when she’d fallen down the rabbit hole. “I . . . don’t know.”
A muscle in his jaw tensed for a brief moment. “I’ll call for the car.” He turned, heading back down the hallway.
That was it.
Our date was over.
He had shut down because I couldn’t accept him, or rather, couldn’t accept what he did in that room.
That was probably a good thing.
It was over.
I’d probably never see him again, never feel that secret thrill as he held my hand, never taste his kiss again.
It was over.
I’d never feel the pain of being paddled or whipped.
It was over.
And I was . . . conflicted.
Even now, my skin tingled where he’d touched me. And a pulsing throb ached between my legs. But I was scared. I didn’t know what it felt like to make love, let alone fuck. This was way more than I was ready for. I knew it.
But something made me cry out, “Wait!”
Tristan stopped, turned. “You don’t have to—”
“I know. It’s just that I’m . . . this is so embarrassing.”
“What is it, Alice?” His voice was softer now, inspiring me to trust him. As he came toward me again, his gait was smooth. He moved like a big jungle cat, every motion fluid.
“It’s not just that I don’t know about those kinds of things, bondage, or whatever it’s called.” I swallowed hard. There was something in my throat. And that something was huge. “I’m a virgin. I don’t know anything.”
He didn’t respond right away. He was studying me, silent. Finally, he murmured, “I should take you home.”
That was probably true. But I didn’t want to go home yet. I wanted to understand this man, wanted to know him better. I wanted him to kiss me again, to hold me too. “Why do you do it?”
“It’s hard to explain. It gives me great pleasure, having someone lay her trust at my feet and open herself up to me.”
That big lump was still stuck in my throat. I think it was even bigger now. “I want to put my trust in your hands.”
“You don’t.”
“Yes, I do. I’ve never felt the way you make me feel. I’m scared and excited all at the same time. I think I shouldn’t want the things I want, but something inside me tells me to go for it anyway.” I wrapped my arms around myself. My hands were shaking. They were shaking a lot. But that didn’t change what I was saying or make it any less true. “And when you kiss me I melt inside.”
He groaned, pulled me to him, enveloped me in his arms. He kissed the top of my head. “I melt inside too.”
I reached up, traced the line of his jaw with a fingertip. “You’re so beautiful and deadly at the same time. Like your hawk.”
Dark hunger flashed across his face. “I could say the same thing about you.” He palmed my cheek, glanced my lower lip with his thumb. Taking a gamble, I slid my tongue out, flicking it over his skin. He pressed his thumb between my lips, and I suckled. At the carnal hunger I saw in his eyes, my insides throbbed. My pussy clenched.
God help me, I wanted this man to make love to me. And then I wanted him to fuck me. I ached for him to show me the darkest side of himself.
“Tristan.” I shuddered.
He pulled his hand away, released me, took one, two, three steps away. Inside, I shouted no. Outside, I stood mute and watched him.
He glanced over his shoulder, took one look at me, charged back to me, hauled me against him, and kissed me. His tongue shoved into my mouth, stroked, tasted, took. I trembled and gasped and moaned. Tiny flares were igniting everywhere. My skin tingled. My nerves zapped. A rising tide of heat was building inside. Growing bigger with every stroke of his tongue.
When he broke the kiss, I whimpered. Would he walk away again? Please don’t turn away. Please.
“Dammit,” he mumbled. His gaze slid down, to the vee of my blouse. He placed one fingertip at the base of my throat, in that little dip in the center. “You are so beautiful. I can picture you lying on my table, writhing with need, begging for me to take you.”
I could picture that too. I kind of liked it.
“You don’t have to protect me. I’m not a child. I’m a woman.” Aware my hand was trembling a little, I placed it over his and pushed, moving it down the center of my chest. My eyes remained locked to his. I wanted him to know I was serious, that I wanted what the heat in his eyes promised. I wasn’t completely afraid.
Down his hand traveled, between my breasts, lower, over my stomach, farther, to the throbbing heat between my thighs. I forced his hand down, made him cup my sex. The pressure felt so good, so right.
A little moan slipped out.
He growled, low, like an animal’s warning. I was playing with something very dangerous. That only made my need that much greater.
“There are rules,” he said, his voice breathy, husky.
“Teach me.”
“I’ve never had a virgin.”
“Take me.” I tipped my hips, pushing my burning tissues against the hand that was still there. “I trust you.”
Tristan took one, two deep breaths, mumbled something I couldn’t make out, then kissed me. This kiss was wild, a plundering. His tongue shoved into my mouth, filling it with decadent flavor. His hand rubbed back and forth against my crotch, and spirals of tingling heat pulsed through my center, curling, swirling. His other hand clamped over my breast, squeezing hard.
I was instantly a tight, trembling, whimpering mess of desperation. I’d never had anything in there, deep inside me, but I sure wanted something now. Stroking deep and hard. My body knew what it needed.
The kiss ended abruptly. Tristan took my hand, pulled me away from the room with the table and chains. Had he changed his mind? Was he sending me away?
“Tristan, please.”
He walked down the hall to the closed door at the end, threw it open.
A bedroom. A gorgeous bedroom with an enormous bed.
He was taking me to his room.
He circled the small sofa positioned at the end of the bed, hauling me with him. We stopped. I was breathless. He was breathless.
“Dammit,” he cursed.
“What’s wrong?” I asked between little gasps.
“Nothing. I’m just . . . not prepared for this.” He was looking at the nightstands.
“What do you mean?”
“Condoms. I keep them in the playroom.”
“I brought some.” I shook my shoulder bag.
“You . . .? You brought condoms?”
I nodded. “I was hoping . . .” Blushing profusely, I set my purse on the bed.
He slid an arm around my waist and pulled me flush against him. At the feel of a hard bulge pressing against my stomach, my heart started trying to hammer its way through my breastbone. With his free hand, he cupped the back of my head. His fingers clenched a fist full of my hair. He pulled, forcing my head to tip to one side. “You’re so beautiful. So innocent.”
“Soon to be not so innocent,” I mumbled.
Inside, my body tightened, blood gathered between my legs, creating the naughtiest tingling. I couldn’t help tipping my hips back and forth in time to the steady beat pulsing in my flesh.
He nipped my neck, and little blades of stinging pleasure cut through me, making me gasp. My spine arched and my breasts smashed against his hard body. How I loved the way he touched me. Rough, but at the same time gentle. It was as if he knew exactly what I wanted, what I needed.
“If I make love to you today, it will be the first time for both of us,” he murmured against my neck. A shudder of need crashed through me. I hooked my fingers, dragging them down his arms. My nails slipped along the crisp material of his shirt.
“I need you,” I said.
“I’ll go as slow as I can.” He slipped his hands down my sides. Finding the bottom of my top, he pushed the material up, over my stomach, my chest, and finally over my head. I was still wearing my skirt, panties, and a black lace bra I’d bought just for tonight. All I could think about was getting them off. I tried to reach around my back and unhook the bra.
“No.” His tone was sharp.
I dropped my hands.
He walked, his body forcing me back. My butt hit the wall, and in a second, I was smashed between it and Tristan’s rock-hard body. “Arms up, over your head.”
My heart did a few flip-flops as I did what I was told.
He clamped a hand around both of my wrists, holding them in place. “Yes, that’s the way.” He forced his knee between my legs, using his foot to kick my feet apart. “Hmmm.”
Hmmm was right.
Still holding my arms in place, he tipped his head down to tease my nipple through my bra. The material did nothing to diminish the torment. He laved and nipped and suckled while his hand slipped under my skirt to finger the wet tissues between my legs.
“You’re so wet.”
I wasn’t just wet. I was on the verge of collapsing. My heart was pounding so hard it almost hurt. My pussy was burning. I was breathless and dizzy. When, oh when would he take away the aching need?
“Please, Tristan.” I swallowed a sob.
His fingers found their way under the cotton crotch of my panties. His fingernails grazed my nether lips. Instinct made me slide my feet wider, tip my hips forward. I wanted him to touch me deeper, to stroke where the burning was the worst.
“Is this what you want, baby?” A finger dipped between my labia.
It wasn’t deep enough. It wasn’t wide enough.
“More. Please.”
“You ask so sweetly, Alice.” His finger inched deeper, almost deep enough.
I quaked. I pulled on my arms, wanting to wrap them around his neck. I couldn’t.
“No, you like it like this. You want me to take control.”
He was right. I hadn’t realized until now what all my secret fantasies had meant. I didn’t know the term, but I craved this, a strong, powerful man taking control, touching and stroking and tormenting me. While I writhed and begged and pleaded. Yes, oh yes.
He added a second finger and my knees nearly gave out. He scissored his fingers, stretching my tight tissues. It hurt but it also felt so good. The little burn only amplified all the other intoxicating sensations pummeling my system.
The scent of his skin and my own need.
The pounding of my heart in my ears.
The sound of my sighs and whimpers.
And the taste of his lips still lingering on mine.
I couldn’t take it anymore. The heat was unbearable. The need excruciating. “Tristan, please.”
His finger left my pussy. His other hand released my wrists. “Come here.” He led me to the bed. But before he let me lie down, he pulled off all my clothes. I stood completely nude before him, waiting and watching as his gaze wandered up and down my body. My skin tingled wherever he looked. As if I could literally feel his gaze. “You are beautiful. Perfect. It’s no wonder Estefan can’t stop talking about you.”
“He can’t?”
“No. He says your musculature is perfect. I see far more than your musculature.”
“You do?” I was getting dizzy and giddy.
“I do. Like these sweet little nipples. They’re the color of my favorite fruit. And my mouth waters when I look at them.” He flicked one with a fingertip, and a sharp blade of need sliced through me. My legs started trembling. “And that ass.” Using his hands, he turned me around. “Round and firm and smooth. I can’t wait to see it pink from my spanking. To see your cunt glistening with your juices.”
Oh God. Would he please stop talking? I bent over, placing my hands on the mattress. Would the sight of that inspire him to finally do something, rather than just talk about it?
“Hmmm. I like that. Move your feet wider apart.”
I did as he asked. And I was rewarded with more strokes to my pussy. His fingertip circled ’round and ’round on top of my clit, and with each little circle, my body tensed more. I’d touched myself like that before. I knew it felt good. But it had never felt this good.
I felt like my body was soaring toward some unknown pinnacle. Hotter. Tighter. My need swelled. He pushed two fingers inside me, and something inside me snapped. A huge tsunami of erotic heat crashed through me, and it felt like every nerve in my body had fired. I was tingling all over, my inside muscles spasming around his fingers. My head was spinning too. I let it fall forward and rode wave upon wave of intense pleasure.
“Yes, that’s it, Alice. You come so pretty for me.”
I’d orgasmed.
So that was what a real orgasm felt like.
The intense sensations started fading, and I was already anxious to feel it again. I reached between my legs, thinking I’d cup the bulge in Tristan’s pants. But my fingers didn’t find linen. They found smooth, velvety flesh stretched over a hard, thick rod.
He looped an arm around my waist and leaned down, until his chest and stomach were pressed against my sweat-slicked back. “Hmmm. Stroke me,” he said against my shoulder. He nipped me when I did what he asked. “Yes, like that.” His breath warmed my nape, making goose bumps erupt all over my shoulders and back. I was hot and cold, tight and relaxed. Needy and satisfied. A bundle of contradicting wants and needs and desires.
But more than anything, I needed to be filled. To be stroked inside. Deep inside.
I tightened my fist, using it in the place of my pussy. He did most of the work, using his hips to thrust in and out, in and out. Slowly, gradually, I moved my hand closer to my vagina. The tip poked at my tender flesh with each inward thrust, teasing me and making me that much more desperate to finally have him inside me.
