Becoming Theirs (Dominion Trust Book 1) (5 page)

“No, wait —”

“I don’t want to hear you speak that word again, Erica,” he whispered into her ear. “We need to talk about that again, I see.” He used his grip on her hair to turn and push her against the window, her cheek laid along the glass. “But first, I want you.”

Oh God, yes.

She fluttered her hands at her sides, unsure what to do with them.

“On the window, over your head.”

Absurdly, she felt relieved he'd told her what to do. Despite that, the position made her feel even more helpless, further exposed. She had no doubt that was his intent. Even as she felt something hard and hot touch her ass, she found herself gazing at the brilliant red gold of the waning sunset, the beauty of it so unlike anything seen in the valley.

Blaine was a big man, and as his cock slid into her, she panted, the very tight fit just this side of uncomfortable. It was the same every time of course, no matter how often he’d taken her. She knew he liked that she had to work to take him, that it was never easy. Erica never wanted easy, she just wanted him — and stretched pussy or not, she’d have him.

The fabric of his slacks pressed to the backs of her thighs as he seated himself fully within her, the head of his big penis seemingly at the core of her. Her body shuddered at the deep penetration, the feel of his hard thighs against her making her grind her ass slowly against him.

“Shh, don’t move. I just want to feel you, feel you tight around me. Be still now.”

She moaned, fighting the urge to roll her hips. How could she? With her Sir’s cock deep within her, the need to work him, to thrust down upon him was visceral, primal.

He drew a whispered sigh from her lips as he began to thrust, just slow, deliberate movements at first, the slide of every hot, hard inch of him exquisite and maddening all at once. He kept at her like that, the room silent but for her labored breathing and the wet sounds of her pussy surrendering to the solid strokes of his cock.

“That’s it, girl.” The hand in her hair pushed her face harder against the window. “You just stay nice and quiet, and let me fuck this cunt.”

He let go of her hair, relaxing the tension in her neck. The light had lowered further outside, some of the creeping cars’ headlights now visible on the road below. Erica squeezed her eyes shut. She couldn’t look out the window like that.

Could. Not. Look.

A hard thrust shook her body against the glass, as he took up deeper, faster movements. She moaned again as his hips slammed into her ass, her bare breasts squeaking against the window. Her nipples had grown so hard, she was sure they would etch the glass as her body jostled under the assault of his thrusting.

Hands grasped her waist, squeezing. She responded by clenching her pussy upon him, earning a deep groan from Blaine. “Good girl!
Such
a good girl.”

Blaine pulled on her hips, roughly moving her back from the window. She took one hand from the glass, trying to balance herself.

“No. Keep them up there unless I tell you otherwise.”

Soon he had her bent almost double, her head hanging down between her arms, his big hands clasped tightly, possessively around her waist. Her hair swayed below her as he took up a swift rhythm, pounding into her repeatedly.

“Oh,
fuck,”
she moaned as he pushed close, filling her to bursting, the awkward, but pleasurable sensation of the big head forced against her cervix.

She felt his hands reach under her, clutching her swinging breasts, squeezing them until she whimpered. He caught her hard nipples between cruel fingers, pinching and twisting her sensitive flesh, making her cry out. The pain arrowed straight to her womb, transforming itself as she clenched down upon him once more.

He leaned over her, still stroking his big cock within her. “Just wait, girl. I can’t wait until these are mine.”

His? What… ?

“I’m going to have your nipples pierced.”

Erica gasped as he squeezed again, his fingers pinching them at the base where they met the smooth, dark surrounds.

“Kathryn and I talked about it. She wanted to have you tattooed. But I wanted to have you pierced. Nice, thick gold rings right at the base. Soon, bad girl.”

The idea terrified her. It wasn’t that she was afraid of needles at all. Rather, it was the dark fascination with it, with the pain of it. In her freshman year in college, her dorm mate Shauna had decided to have her nipples pierced for her boyfriend’s birthday. She’d dragged Erica down with her as moral support to have it done. Even though the man in the shop had numbed the nipples, then clamped them, Shauna had still cried through the whole procedure. Her high-pitched keening was chilling, but it had also stoked an illicit heat between Erica’s thighs. As she’d watched the man dab the drops of blood from Shauna’s impossibly red, inflamed nipples, Erica had been shocked at her body’s physical, lustful reaction to the undercurrent of subjugation, even degradation, in the act.

Ever since that day she’d wondered how bad it really did hurt, if it was the kind of pain that would morph into the forbidden desire she felt after having her ass blistered by paddle or hand. The kind of pain that made her nipples stand up, her pussy gush.

She grunted once, twice, three times as Blaine straightened, thrusting hard, shaking her entire body. Fingers reached down to stroke over her clit, and she moaned, twisting her ass against him. It hurt to have him stimulating her again, but the hurt just magnified, crystallized her lust for him. She wanted the pain, needed that edge to the pleasure.

“This… is… how… I… want… you,” he ground out, each word punctuated by a brutal thrust that drew panicky breaths from Erica. He leaned over her, still driving into her, one heavy hand clasping her shoulder in a painful grip, as he whispered in her ear. “If you were mine, I’d keep you naked, dependent on me for everything. I’d have you chained to the foot of my bed. I’d wake you in the night and fold you over the foot board. Take you whenever I felt the urge. No words, no seeking your permission.
Mine
.”

“Yes! Oh,
god.
Harder, Sir!” Erica could feel her climax gathering, spiraling higher. Both his words and his thick cock worked her, broke her down, made her a slave to him. Nothing else mattered in this moment, just the feel of him, his strength controlling her, enveloping her, binding her body and soul to him.

His.

“Close, so close,” he grunted. His big hand laid down a punishing slap to Erica’s ass, making her yell, the blow reawakening the throbbing, punished flesh. A fist yanked hard on her locks, pulling her head back, the pain blooming in her scalp and driving her lust higher, that agony earthing in her womb, intensifying the pulsing ache of her clit.

His hips pounded against her in sharp, staccato thrusts, his tortured groan punctuated by the harsh pull on her hair like the reins of a thoroughbred. The pain kept her on the knife-edge of orgasm; the feeling of him riding her like an animal lending a taboo energy to their fucking that was at once degrading and exhilarating. Then she felt wetness flood within her as he came, the heat of it a delicious surprise. He slumped over her, catching his breath. Warm drops of sweat dripped onto her back, his labored breath whispering through her hair.

She smiled. He’d been saving up on his trip, evidently. Saving up for her.

They both liked to make her worship his cock with her mouth, revere the gift of his semen. Often, on the days he’d arranged to have her visit him, he’d take great joy (and if she were honest, she did too) in making her kneel naked before him while he brought himself off, thick dollops of hot come spraying over the slopes of her breasts, her exposed neck. Sometimes he’d make her hold her mouth open for him, the strangled purplish head depositing a thick offering on her outstretched tongue. He’d hold her chin gently in his hand raising her gaze to his, his thumb spreading a drop of his come across her swollen lower lip, the warm fondness in his eyes melting her, leaving her defenseless against him. He’d coo to her as he softly told her to swallow, to take all of it like a good girl. Then she’d lower her gaze, shivering as the warmth suffused her cheeks, the pleasure and the shame of it melding within her into a seething mass of lust.

His spent cock slipped from her sex, drawing a ragged sigh from her. His hands helped her to stand again, easing her back against the hard planes of his chest. Somewhere he’d shed the t-shirt, and she longed to see the sectioned abdominals, the powerful pectorals, worship all of it with her lips and tongue. But he just held her, one muscled arm over her chest, his gentle palm cupping the weight of one of her breasts.

They just stood there, both of them listening to the other breathe, reveling in the feel of flesh on flesh. The warm metallic scent of her Sir’s semen was strong as it leaked sullenly from her hard-used pussy. She had the urge to run her fingers through it, to taste it, but knew she wasn’t to move unless he ordered it.

The light of the sun had bled almost totally from the sky, a smudge of magenta and deep blue at the horizon, the night ushering in the dazzling star field above.

“I never get tired of seeing it,” Blaine murmured. “That incredible sunset.”

Erica smiled back at him. “I’ve never seen it before, like this. At the ocean.”

It filled her with such calm, the pure simplicity of it. She thought she knew a little now of why long-time sailors might grow melancholy when away from the sea for too long.

“When your Mistress and I were first married, we spent time here every chance we got, enjoying this beauty, enjoying each other.”

The pang of longing gnawed at her. She searched her feelings to make sure it wasn’t jealousy or possessiveness. Such things were corrosive, insidious, and she was determined never to let herself succumb to them.

No, what she felt was… regret. It wasn’t because he’d had that time with Kathryn, but regret that Erica couldn’t have shared it with them. She pictured them standing at this very window, arms wrapped around one another, two beautiful immortals enraptured by their new love. Erica would be there with them, naked, on her knees, the chain to her collar tucked in the crook of Blaine’s muscled arm. She’d press kisses to their thighs, to the fingers offered to her fervent lips. A silent, loving tableau.

It hadn’t happened of course, but who knew what the future held? It was a future she told herself not to hope for, her naive attempt to stave off the disappointment of reality. She knew she was young, a little rash at times (Mom and Dad would say a
lot
rash), so she tried not to get too far ahead of things. Blaine, wiser than his years might indicate, had helped her to let events happen on their own, to surrender to them — and to him. He’d tried to show her the peace found in the accepting of the vagaries of chance… and maybe even a little good fortune.

Erica’s stomach growled loudly, both of them laughing at her startled jump. She turned in his arms, looking at him, then pointedly moving her gaze beyond him to the bar.

“Guess we’d better feed you, bad girl,“ he said, winking at her. “All this fucking is sapping your strength. What kind of a vampire would I be to allow my victim to wilt so soon?”

She giggled at him, kissing his soft, sensual mouth.

Blaine nipped at her lip. “Insatiable.”

What more gorgeous specimen of a vampire than her Sir could there possibly be? She his source of sustenance, his blood slave, bound to him in more ways than her chains. The thought made her shiver, her pussy awakening yet again.

“Go get your bread, and bring it to me.” He nodded his head back toward the bar.

Erica was starving, and just the thought of even that plain bread made her mouth water. She brought the plate to him, and he took it, dipping his chin toward the floor.

Sighing, she sunk to her knees. She spread her ass properly on her heels, her cheeks heating at the bounce and wobble of her breasts. He stood over her, bright eyes drinking in her nudity. Her gaze took in the broad, muscular chest, the brown, flat nipples beckoning to her lips and tongue, down the lean, sectioned abdominals with the light dusting of dark hair that dove down to his crotch. He’d tucked himself back in, only a tuft of wiry pubic hair visible in the casually open fly of his black slacks.

He bade her kneel closer, and she obeyed, not able to divine a way to do it without sending her breasts bouncing once more. Blaine pulled her head to his muscled thigh, fingers stroking though her hair. She kept her hands in her lap as he’d taught her long ago, though she itched to run them up the heavy muscles of those thighs, to feel the barely harnessed power of those legs hum beneath her touch.

They stood that way for some minutes, his fingers feeling positively divine in her hair, stroking the tension from her scalp. Then he stirred, tapping her cheek. “Raise your eyes, Erica.”

Clutched in his hand, the piece of bread floated just above her. She tilted her head, questioning, and he nodded at her.

Then she realized what he intended, and her blush burned to the roots of her hair, his broad grin registering the gleeful pleasure he took in her embarrassment. Plucking up her courage, she knelt up, taking the bread from his fingers with her lips.

She’d feared it would be bland, tasteless, but instead it was delicious, obviously fresh baked, and fair melted on her tongue. He tore off another piece, holding it above her once more. She moved to kneel up again, but a sharp shake of his head stopped her.