His Name Is Sir (The Power to Please #3) (40 page)

“I don’t hate you.”

He pulled out of me then drove inside me again. “Maybe not, but you should.”

“No. I can’t.”

“I’m why you’re lonely and hurt. It’s my fault.”

“No ... mmph.” I was cut short when he thrust in and out of me again, zings of electricity bouncing around inside me. I grabbed a breath and said, “It’s not you, it’s this. Stop.”

“You told me to do this.”

“I know. But stop. I don’t want it anymore. Not ever.”

His fingers stilled inside me. “Explain.”

“I can’t resist it. I’m the one. Not you.” I took a few deep breaths. “It’s what caused everything. Needing this. It’s what’s wrong. I have to stop.”

He leaned back, and in a swift motion, pulled out of me, took me by the arm and turned me around to face the wall, my hands still restrained over my head.

He rubbed his hand over my ass, than smack! Smack! Smack! He spanked me, hard, and I cried out as his palm landed on my rapidly-heating ass again and again.

Then he stopped and turned me back around to face him. His dark hair, always ordered and pushed straight back from his forehead, was in some disorder now. One chunk of hair fell onto his forehead. “Where did you feel that?”

I shook my head.

His fingers immediately found my pussy. “You felt it here.” He pushed inside me and I groaned. “This isn’t what’s wrong. It’s the one thing that’s always been right.”

I shuddered as he set a slow, firm pace, his fingers moving within me, the slip and slide of flesh on flesh.

He said, “You must never let anyone take that away from you. Not me, not Michael. Not even you yourself. No running away. Keep the thing that’s right.”

I blinked back the tears in the corners of my eyes. The entire lower half of my body was buzzing. “I’m embarrassed. I shouldn’t have told you to ...” but I didn’t finish because he cut me off.

“I’m going to fuck you now,” he said. His hand left me and I felt movement around my stomach, heard the sound of him undoing his belt. “And I’m only doing it for one reason. What’s that reason, Nonnie?”

My heart pounded in my chest. My breath hitched. I shook my head but he wouldn’t accept that. Keep the thing that’s right, he said. It had always been right.

“What’s the reason?” he repeated.

“Because you want to,” I answered.

“Good girl,” his voice so low it resonated up my spine. I heard the distinctive sound of a zipper being lowered. “Now turn around, spread your legs and bend over, palms flat on the wall. Present yourself.”

He released my wrists, and I quickly turned to obey. I heard the rustle of fabric over skin and the sloughing fall of clothing, the metallic clink of a belt buckle hitting the floor. When the head of his hard cock slipped through my wet folds then nestled inside the opening to my pussy, I moaned with anticipation, remembering how it felt when he entered me.

But he didn’t enter me. He stayed right there, poised and ready without going farther. He said, “We know I want it. How about you?”

I gulped and nodded.

He landed a fierce swat on my still-burning ass.

I quickly said, “Yes. I want it.”

He landed another nasty blow and this time I felt it all the way from my clit to my chest. He said, “You’ve forgotten my name.”

“No, I haven’t. It’s Sir. I should have said, ‘Yes, I want it, Sir.’”

He grabbed my hips and drove his cock inside me with a forceful grunt. “Now you’ve got it.”

And I had. And I did. For as long as it lasted, I allowed myself to put aside my fears, my dread. He fucked me fierce and fast, and I shoved back against him, meeting him with equal force.

I slapped the wall, demanded more. He grabbed my breasts and twisted my nipples. Yes. Yes. I rubbed my clit. More.

I came. He picked me up, carried me to the dining room table and dropped me there, on my back. I spread myself for him and he pounded into me, his eyes a dark fire I met with a fire of my own. I hated him. I wanted him. I wanted the table to collapse beneath me.

He mashed his palm over my clit and the top of my mound, ground out harsh circles. I grabbed his wrist, forced him harder against me. Dug my fingernails into his skin. Rotated my hips. And it hurt. And it didn’t. And then I clamped down, inside, making him swear.

I came. And so did he.

We were headed to Gibson’s estate by early afternoon. I didn’t do much packing, only bringing the things I had taken to the Hoytes and a few other items I had missed during my stay there. Gibson told me not to bother with everything else. He said I could come back whenever I wanted, and he’d send some help with me to get it all sorted out.

I didn’t know yet if I would keep my apartment. I didn’t know anything at all, really. Elaine said Gibson was the key to finding my answers, and maybe he’d given me a few of them, but the most important question of all was left hanging. What, exactly, was I to Gibson?

I sat in the back of his town car, Gibson thumbing on his phone while I stared out the window watching the suburbs fly past. He had raised the partition between us and the driver, creating an intimate space, yet I felt removed from Gibson.

I thought, what am I doing?

Gibson said, “You’re going to recover.”

I turned and looked at him, realizing he hadn’t read my mind, that I had spoken my thought aloud. “I don’t know what that means.”

“Fresh air, exercise, rest.”

“Then what?”

“That’s for you to decide. I think when you’re rested up, I should enroll you in the trainee program at Private Residence. It would be good for you, give you a wider exposure, a different perspective.”

My stomach turned over and I thought that he might as well have kicked me. I longed to escape if not his presence, then his impartiality.

He said, “But first, when you’re ready, we’re going to watch your video together.”

I flinched. “No.”

“We have to. You need to talk about what happened, and I can help you understand it.”

“I’m not watching that video with you.”

“I’ve already seen it.”

I shuddered. “I figured you had. But I’ve watched as much of it as I can stand, and I won’t watch any more of it.”

“You haven’t seen it all?”

“No. Just up to before the second punishment. That was enough.”

I turned and looked back out the window. I sensed Gibson’s stillness, knew he was studying me.

After a few moments, he asked, “What are you afraid you’ll see?”

I counted the houses flashing past the window and let his question settle in my mind. I was up to thirty homes when I decided I had nothing to lose.

My fingers dug into the arm rest and I said, “More men.”

Gibson’s voice was gentle. “Look at me.”

I turned to face him.

His dark eyes met mine. “There were no more. Just Michael and the three others.”

I nodded over and over. It was a moment of such powerful relief that I couldn’t speak. I nodded, swallowed past the lump in my throat. Knew there was one scene in my head, one memory of that long night that I didn’t have to replay in my mind anymore, replayed in fear and horror.

Michael’s words to me after he strapped me to the table: “I’d like to send a parade through here to gawk at you.” Then more about what that parade would do to me. How many times had I replayed that memory?

“I’d like to send a parade through here to gawk at you.”

No more.

I asked, “Did they ... no, never mind. It’s enough.”

And it was. For now.

Gibson reached over and picked up my hand, held it between both of his and squeezed gently. “We won’t watch it until you’re ready.”

I nodded, appreciated his touch, but knew it was lacking what I really wanted. I let him hold my hand and returned to staring out the window, noting idly that there were more trees now than houses.

I asked myself once more, silently this time, what am I doing? No answer.

The changing scenery told me that we were outside the city. Soon we would arrive at Gibson’s estate, and I would finally get to see where he lived.

But I wouldn’t be living with him. I’d be in a cottage. I’d have room to roam. Time to rebuild.

To begin again.

And that would have to be enough ... for now.

About
the Author

Deena Ward writes erotic fantasies with a classic twist. She believes there could be nothing finer than having a job which demands she spend hours and hours of every day in worlds of her own creation.

She lives in the midwest with her partner and a rowdy, plump beagle.

Books
by Deena Ward

(Available exclusively at the Amazon Kindle store)

The Power to Please
series:

The Businessman’s Tie (Book 1)

The Playboy’s Proposition (Book 2)

His Name Is Sir (Book 3)

Coming in 2013

The fourth and final book of
The Power to Please
series

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His
Name Is Sir, Book 3 of The Power to Please

Copyright © 2013 Deena Ward

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Cover Image Copyright © Maxstockphoto 2013, used under license from Shutterstock.com

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This e-book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, places or people, is purely coincidental.

This book contains scenes of a graphic, sexual nature and is intended for mature audiences only. Please purchase and read only if it is legal for you to do so.

The best sex is always safe, sane and consensual.