Becoming Theirs (Dominion Trust Book 1) (6 page)

“Present your breasts.”

“What? I don’t… ”

“Use your hands, Erica.”

Cupping her breasts, she held them up to him, the globes quivering in her unsteady hands.

“That’s it. Very good.” He placed the piece in her mouth, the back of his hand caressing the warmth of her cheek.

There was a soft knock and Ana stepped in, a hand wrapped around the door. Erica tried to stand, but Blaine’s hand clamped her head to his thigh. She thought better of struggling against him, and instead hid her face against his slacks, her arms wrapped around him.

Ana cleared her throat. “Sorry to disturb you, Sir. Mrs. Forster called to say she’d be late.”

“Thank you, Ana. You can go to bed now, if you want. I’ll lock up.” Erica could feel the smug maid’s gaze on the round, bare ass pressed to her naked feet. “Is there anything I can … get for you, while I’m here, Sir?”

The bitch. No!

“No, I think we’re good,” Blaine said, mirth in his voice. “Thank you, Ana.”

“Good night, Sir.” A pause, her voice raised for effect. “Good night, Erica.”

Erica wanted to crawl into the floor, through to the center of the earth. But first, she wanted to murder Ana.

Blaine growled, his hand tightening on her hair.

“Good night, Ana,” she mumbled, as if chewing on broken glass.

“Oh wait, Ana?” His palm caressed the crown of Erica’s head. “There is something.”

“Sir?”

Erica could claw the woman’s eyes out at the blatant eagerness in her tone. The slut.

He’s mine.

It was insane for her to feel jealous about a man, who essentially, owned Erica — and who was himself married to another woman. However, love — and lust — rarely made sense. She could accept it though, and she knew she’d do everything and anything to make Ana accept it too if the tarted up maid touched one
hair
on her Sir.

Erica knew he’d probably punish her for such thoughts, but luckily, he wasn’t able to get inside her head — yet.

“Do you know where the arm binder is? The leather one?”

“I think so,” Ana said, hesitation plain in the maid’s voice. “In the … room, Sir.”

No, no.

“Okay, good. Bring it to me along with that black cloth I left draped over the end of the horse.” Blaine used his grip to turn Erica’s face up, her eyes reluctantly meeting his. Something danced in the depths of his gaze, and a shiver shook her body. He grinned down at her.

“Might as well bring the hobble too, Ana. This girl needs it.”

Chapter Two

The breathing of the soft, beautiful body curled up next to him had settled, sleep claiming the girl whom he feared he’d become increasingly fixated upon. Blaine shifted her body a little, adjusting the position of her head, her warm cheek laid upon his shoulder. She wasn’t used to sleeping with her arms bound, so he wanted to keep her as comfortable as possible. The girl had a long night still ahead of her.

He’d been surprised when she’d fallen asleep shortly after securing her in her bonds. Her trembling was such as he’d fitted her arms into the binder, that he thought she might dissolve into tears, plead with him to leave off. Luckily, she hadn’t. Instead, she’d endured the vulnerability of the arm binder, the way it blatantly presented her luscious breasts, displayed those long nipples of hers his fingers could never resist pinching into aching hardness. Surprisingly, the blindfold seemed to calm her, her tight lips loosening, opening, calling to his mouth to kiss, to take. Her whole body softened, the tension melting from her muscles, and no longer resisting, she’d allowed him to draw her into his arms.

Surrender.

It’s what he craved from her. It was still hard for her, but that very difficulty added the sweetness to it that he savored. That moment of realization that she was truly helpless, entirely subject to him and his whims. Lying there in that massive bed, the same bed he’d shared with his wife countless nights, his thoughts wandered. He wanted more, so much more. A beautiful, introverted college girl, at once unassuming and compelling, he’d been fascinated by her fresh, fearless embrace of her needs. It was a quality entirely unlike someone of her youth, and it drew him — and Kathryn — to her. But he still wondered if Erica was truly ready for it, fully prepared for what he’d soon expect from her — if the night went according to plan.

Blaine knew he wanted her the first moment he’d set eyes on her. That scared, but obviously eager girl sitting uncomfortably in the midst of all those strangers, awash in the bright whites of the light display. She’d looked almost angelic, a purity of spirit in those pretty eyes. But the thoughts that shapely body of hers had evoked in him were decidedly impure.

She stirred against him, the chain of her hobble clicking softly as she moved her ankles.

“Shh, girl,” he murmured, placing a kiss on her cheek. “It’s okay, sleep now.”

Her lips moved in that uncertain way those who dream have, the words formed in that twilight mind, but not transmitted completely to the mouth, to the means of expression. Blaine kissed those lips into stillness.

As much as he loved holding the helpless Erica next to him, listening to her breathing, something was missing.

His wife.

She’d been the one to first propose the idea, and he’d shot it down immediately. Why do it when they were both already so happy?

His hand stroked the hair away from Erica’s eyes, his thumb tracing a dark eyebrow. Now he knew she’d been right; she’d nailed it, actually. Would there be jealousy? Could there be a chance sometime in the future that one would be favored over another? Certainly, there was a chance.

But the one in danger of feeling left out wasn’t whom he’d thought it might be.

The door opened, whispering along the thick pile carpet. a figure strolling into the darkness of the room. The street lamps from the road below cast a ghostly light through the huge windows, partially illuminating the otherwise dark room.

“How’s our little slave girl?”

Blaine grinned, easing his arm out from under the bound, slumbering Erica. “I didn’t think you’d be back until late.”

His wife stepped fully into the light, her hands working in her hair. Her tight, tailored gray suit, while itself an almost masculine affectation, nevertheless perfectly accentuated her slim, willowy figure. “I had James fly me out of there early. Did you know he’s got a girl in Vancouver? He was quite amenable to getting me to Portland as fast as possible.” Kathryn smiled. “He just about flew the wings off that thing.”

“I’m glad you’re back,” Blaine said, rolling gingerly from the bed, hoping he wouldn’t wake the beautiful, constrained nude curled over the blankets. He pulled on the warm-ups, the cotton cool against his skin. Striding to Kathryn, he wrapped his arms around her, tasting her lips after much too long. “Missed you.”

She kissed him back, angling her hips against him, his cock stirring. “She didn’t wear you out I see.” Her hand closed around him, stroking slowly, knowingly. ”My insatiable husband.”

“Someone needs to be reminded of her place.”

Kathryn tilted her head, giving him an exaggerated flutter of eyelashes. “I’d say she’s well aware of her place.”

“I wasn’t talking about Erica,” he rumbled.

Yes, it had been much too long for many things. He used to obsess about when he’d next get his hands on his gorgeous, bewitching wife. Imagine the color and shape of the weals his whip would raise over her ass, her anguished cries filling the air. All of it culminating in the animal, primal energy of their fucking, taking her the way a woman like her needed, her body yielding to his lusts.

Deep blue eyes flashed at him, her smile faltering just a tiny bit. “Let’s get a drink.”

His hand caught her arm as she moved past him toward the bar. “Not here. Let her sleep a while. She’s tired.”

Kathryn allowed him to reel her back into his arms, and he kissed her cheeks, her eyelids. Her scent was something he’d never cease to enjoy. She always smelled so good — even after a nonstop from Bismarck to Portland. He worked the jacket off, his hands itching to reacquaint themselves with her flesh.

His flesh.

Slipping out of his grasp, she sauntered to the door, looking back at him as she finally loosened her hair, the golden mass of it falling all about her face. “Outside,” she whispered, and disappeared down the hall.

Ana, dressed in only her diaphanous nightgown, met him at the door. The dark surrounds of her nipples beneath the sheer fabric were plainly visible in the hallway light, and Blaine tore his gaze away from them to look back at the bound beauty slumbering on his bed.

The buxom maid’s brow furrowed. “Everything okay, Sir?”

“Leave her there until she wakes,” he said, laying a finger along a soft olive cheek, bringing her gaze up to his. “When she does, give her whatever she needs — but this door stays locked when you’re finished. Understand?”

Ana lowered her gaze, her hands clasped in front of her thighs. “Of course, Sir.” The dark nipples hardened under Blaine’s gaze, and he considered taking Ana out to the deck with him and Kathryn. It would not have been the first time they had pressed their maid into other… duties.

He kissed the mass of Ana's dark hair, then went searching for his wayward wife.

Chapter Three

The night air smelled faintly of sea and sulfur, the locals already lighting off a wealth of fireworks all around them. Kathryn sipped from her wine, her glass dangling in her long fingers, her slender, yet shapely figure leaning over, elbows poised on the black wrought iron of the railing. Strands of long hair blew about in the breeze, the wildness of it such a contrast to her normal compact, tightly controlled state.

His hand stroked lazily over the curve of her ass, so nicely displayed in the tight slacks. “You’ve gotta be beat, Kathryn. We don’t need to do this tonight, you know.”

Her gaze turned up to him, her face only partially illuminated by the streetlamps below. “I’m ready. We’re ready.”

Blaine shrugged, leaning his hip against the railing. He moved his hand up her back and submerged it in the heavy tresses. She moaned, arching her head up as he massaged her scalp.

“Maybe, maybe not.” he said. “What makes you so sure?”

“God, that’s fucking amazing, Blaine.”

“I aim to please,” he murmured. He grasped her nape in a firm grip, her body tensing. “But answer the question.”

She looked at him again, smiling. “Why do you play games like this? I know how much you want her. It’s plain to see.”

“You want her every bit as much as I do.” He wondered some days if she might actually prefer the young innocent to her own husband. Perhaps it was simply infatuation — it wasn’t as if he weren’t guilty of his share of obsessing over the fetching girl.

“Mm hmm,” she murmured. “And your point?”

Blaine pulled her head up, forcing Kathryn to straighten. “You forget yourself, wife.”

She caught her breath, her sparkling eyes searching his. “Make me remember, Blaine.”

He kissed her, spinning her around and slamming her back against the dark wood siding. She dropped the glass to the deck, wetness splashing against his foot. He forced his leg between hers, the heat of her cunt raised up on the hard muscles of his thigh. Her hands reached for his face and he batted them away, clutching them in one fist. He wrenched her head to the side, exposing the whiteness of her delicate throat to him.

She gasped as his lips found her soft flesh, nipped her skin. “When this is over tonight, you and I.” He caught a soft breast in his hand, squeezing brutally, her whimper drowned in his mouth. “We’re going to help remind you where you stand in this marriage.”

“Why not now,” she breathed, twisting her hips, grinding her heat into his thigh. “Show me.”

Blaine’s quelling finger pressed to her lips. “That’s for me to decide, woman.” He extricated his leg, to a disappointed murmur. “First, we need to talk.”

Kathryn’s gaze dropped to the wet planks. “Now that’s a waste of some good Malbec.”

Blaine crossed his arms over his chest, his skin breaking out in gooseflesh in the cool night breeze. “You’re sure about this?”

Kathryn blew out a breath, both hands grasping the rail. The wind caught her hair, twirling it like an ephemeral windsock for a moment. “Yes. Can’t you see?”

Blaine saw it. He felt it, the restlessness of his strong-willed wife. She submitted to him, in all things, and had from the very beginning. But that strong will needed an outlet, a focus.

They’d both enjoyed his taming of Kathryn’s willfulness in the beginning (and they still enjoyed it now), and yet with the passage of the years, and the blossoming of his once reticent wife into the fierce, driven corporate shark she was today, a new need had surfaced — one they both knew he was ill-equipped to satisfy.

Then she’d seen her. It happened quite by accident, really. Blaine’s friend Cam (a woman who was quite aware of his particular tastes) had told him she knew of a woman whom he might enjoy meeting. He hadn’t even thought about it with any deliberateness. Blaine had brought young, naive women into their bed before, of course. Kathryn had always reveled in it, soaking up the wide-eyed innocence exposed to the realities of a world of possibilities, to treatment equal parts tender and cruel.