In Control (15 page)

A repeat of the unpleasant stillness chilled the room; a flutter of fear trembled down her spine. She'd expected some grumpiness, but this? Couldn't he even look at her?

Zach raised his head and gazed at the window, as if he could actually look through the closed blinds. "We are building trust here. Mistakes happen. They can be fixed. Bad choices happen. That can be forgiven. But outright lies? Those are not forgivable."

The amount of fear filling her stomach caused her to choke. She trembled so badly the coffee sloshed against the sides of the mug, splashed over her fingers, and splattered the carpet. With one choice, she'd ruined everything they'd built between them
.

Oh, God...

"Was it in the soda?" he asked.

Please, please don't hate me. Don't send me away.
"Yes," whispered.

Zach grunted and gave a curt nod, his attention fixed on the window blinds. "I appreciate the honesty," he said. "I'm not happy about your recent decisions, but I'm pleased you stopped lying to me."

He reached toward the headboard and pulled free a long length of what looked and sounded like rubber. Tears welled in Annabel's eyes at the sight of it.
A beating? Already?

"I'm sorry. I only meant..." She trailed off as waves of helplessness and guilt battered her heart.

"I know what you meant and why you did it, and you were probably right to do it, but"--he paused to lasso his foot with the line of dark blue rubber--"you broke my trust. Don't do that again."

"You were in such pain--"

"If I want to suffer, it's my choice to make. Not yours. Understand?"

He began to push against the band, extending and retracting his damaged leg against the resistance. A home therapy device, she realized, not a tool for beating an insolent slave. His arms and shoulders bunched. From pain or from the effort? Probably both.

"I understand," she said, sounding as meek and puny as she felt.

"Good. Put the mug on the table." He gestured with his chin. "I'll get to it as soon as I'm finished here."

She'd only felt this sense of overwhelming relief when she'd finally walked away from jail those many years ago. And just like then, she crossed the invisible threshold with care, the worry of her liberation being yanked away by a cruel hand looming over her like a cold, dark shadow.

His attention remained on his physical therapy.

She set the mug on the table and knelt in front of him, moving into a slave's position of greeting with an ease and grace that filled her heart with peace.

He froze. His headed jerked up; his gaze found hers. Something hot blazed through his cloud-gray eyes before he drew a shutter across his expression and neutralized his regard.

"What are you up to? I'm not in the mood for games, Annabel."

She placed her hands on his thighs, a ritual position of a slave coming to her master and begging a boon. The muscles of his thighs, both the damaged one and the whole, leapt beneath her palms. His skin was warm, the masculine hairs an interesting texture, the ripple of scars horrifying.

A muscle jumped along his cheek. He straightened. The rubber snapped against the carpet. She realized he'd released it, allowing the end of the band to retract. His gaze roamed over her and took in the nude, blushing skin, shorn hair, and collar.

His eyes narrowed. She dropped her attention to the floor.

"You've been crying." A statement, not a question. "Why?"

"I came to a realization."

"Not the usual reaction to that. What did you realize?"

She raised her gaze again to find his steady on her. A tension wrapped him, but it didn't cause alarm within her. None of her inner warnings sounded. Alert, aware, and waiting, that was all. He wanted an answer, but he would not force it.

"I realized I'm a slave."

He sucked in a sharp, deep breath, almost like he'd taken a body blow. A fine tremor traveled through him before a small smile hitched up the edges of his mouth and squeezed the corners of his eyes.

"Good girl," he said.

She grabbed the approval and held it close. The remaining words of the ritual poured out of her, a river of need, of self-awareness, of hope. "Please take me, Master. I live to serve. I beg to serve you. Please, choose me."

Zach cupped her face in his hands and stared deeply into her eyes, as though searching for something unknown to her. She let him plunder her secrets, opening to him mind, body, and soul. No fear. None.

A ravenous expression darkened his expression, etched by the morning sunshine lightening the room from behind the blinds. Flickers of what seemed like lightning filled the storm cloud gray of Zach's eyes.

"Mine," he said, hoarsely, and sealed the vow with a near-savage kiss.

* * * *

He pulled Annabel with him as he fell back onto the bed. She lay draped over him, her weight negligible against his greedy hunger. Her legs clenched around his hips, her beautiful breasts pressed against his chest, her hairless labia warm against the thrust of his cock even though his cotton briefs.

He kissed her then. She arched into his touch, her arms twining around his neck to pull him close. He tightened his grip on her, one hand cupping the nape of her neck to hold her, control her.

"Master," she whispered between kisses, the word filled with trust, not fear.

It was the sound of her acceptance of who he was and what he would be to her.

Paradise.

He pulled free of her mouth and twining arms to explore her hair. Short, puffy yet soft, just like the spitting kitten she tried so often to be.

"What did you do to yourself?"

"I cut it off last night with the kitchen scissors."

He frowned, at a loss. "Why?"

"Because you didn't like the black."

He shook his head, amused by her reply. Entertaining, but often ridiculous...that was his Annabel. Zach gave one soft, springy tuft a gentle tug, then rolled her beneath him.

"You nut," he said, on a laugh.

The feel of her beneath him, willingly surrendered to his control, burned through him. He dropped his mouth to her breast and lapped, licked, and kissed the desire-tightened nipple. She keened and cradled his head; her body curved up from the bed and pressed tightly against him.

He reached for her pussy, the silken soft skin of her labia calling to him with a siren-like appeal. Honey coated his fingers as he stroked and caressed. He eased two fingers inside and pumped gently. She filled around him, as mouthwatering as a juicy peach on a hot summer day.

Her nails dug into his shoulders. "Master... Take me, please."

It took Zach little time to rotate away from Annabel's body and snatch up a condom from the bedside drawer. Double quick, he rolled it on and returned to her. She cried out, twisting against him, as hungry to be possessed as he was to possess her.

He used one hand and fitted himself to her. Her inner muscles clenched around his cock's tip. Three, short, firm strokes brought him deep inside her. She wailed as his cock hilted with a slap of his balls. Lightning sizzled through his lower back and traced a path down his shaft.

Her pussy muscles rippled around him. He bit down on his bottom lip and set a brisk pace, the gut-deep hunger spinning through his soul demanding no less. The force of his penetration pushed her upward onto the bed with each thrust. He shifted his position, planted a hard hand on the bed to hold her still and resumed his task.

Her shoulder knocked against his wrist with each demanding thrust.

He fucked her harder, hungrier, and told himself he'd reached her womb when she screamed and her body convulsed around him within the cage of his arms, her nails pressing deep into the muscle and skin of his back.

Zach rode the storm of her orgasm, the heat of her pleasure filling the god-dammed-so-fucking-
good
channel of her pussy. He felt the abundance of personal lube ease from her body and drench his balls. They tightened with a force that took his breath away. His cock pulsed so hard it curled his toes.

It took everything he had to force away his impending climax and ride the waves of her decreasing pleasure, the fist-strong flutters of her muscles tearing at his control. The rapture of her orgasm played out across her face as well.

He absorbed very flutter and blush and gasp, storing the memory of her first tumble into ecstasy from his cock's penetration into a special place in his heart. He locked that moment of time with a titanium bolt, sealing it inside him forever.

She sighed and stretched her legs, opening her eyes and meeting his gaze with a blush. Her eyes still carried the indescribable haze of climax as they widened and sharpened from the awareness filling her.

Bad, bad girl, he thought, but so fucking hot.

"Oh! I'm sorry...so sorry," she gasped.

A chuckle escaped him. He leaned forward and nipped her chin. "That's your one Get Out of Jail Free card. Going forward, you come for me. Only when I tell you."

He eased back into the rhythm. Soon enough, he felt her begin to ripen around him. She tightened around his fuckmeat. Lights flickered behind his vision like firecrackers in the dark.

A soft smile curved her mouth. Her eyes drifted shut. Her hands caressed his shoulders, journeyed down his back, and cupped his ass with a delicious, firm grip. He settled himself on his elbows and knees and proceeded to shaft into her with short, fast and firm strokes. The slap of his body against hers played a counterpoint to their mutual gasps and murmurs of pleasure, the sound of her fuck-moistened pussy easing his thrusts came as a husky, erotic melody to the ages-old symphony they played together.

"Oh, God, Master!"

He played with the penetrations, some short, some long, some hard and intense, some easy and replete with pleasure. His lips played across her cheek and earlobe. He nipped playfully along her neck. She danced around his cock, her hands restless and hot against his skin, pulling at him urgently, her mouth, tongue, and teeth fanning his hunger, those sensations, higher, hotter, more gloriously intense.

Together, they sailed toward the glorious tides of timeless bliss--until his leg gave a hard warning by laying a hot brand of white fire across his thigh. Zach bit his cheek as the pain from his leg washed over him.

Shit! Can't I even enjoy a good fuck?
But it was okay. He still had one task to complete.

He broke the rhythm and pulled out of her delicious, gripping channel. She howled a protest. He sat up, laughing. She threw a pillow at his head. He caught it and set it aside with a smirk.

"Move up to the headboard," he instructed.

She obeyed, but with a definite pout. Sparks flew from her eyes as she leveled a glare at him. His smirk widened. She'd wanted that orgasm. Hell, he'd wanted it, too, but first things first.

Zach leaned over and plucked up the length of rubber from the floor. He used it to tie her collar to the headboard. She squeaked a protest, breathed a couple of barely audible curses, but beyond that she had no protest, which was exactly the point.

His dick. His choice. His enjoyment...and a very enjoyable chore needed his attention.

Finished, he sat back on his knees. The injured one roared a protest, pulling a grunt from his chest. He adjusted his position. His gimpy leg lay against the mattress, his foot on the carpeted floor; the absence of stress on the remaining muscles came as an immediate relief.

The slave tugged against the collar and worried her fingers against the knot. It held firm. The pout on her lips deepened. She wasn't a fan of being hitched.

That only made his dick harder.

He delved into the nightstand drawer searching for a tube of lube he'd come across earlier. Seth, that kinkster, had left the condo amply filled with bedroom supplies in convenient places. I'll thank him later, he vowed. Maybe slip him a fifty to pay for supplies used when I'm paid.

He jerked her closer to him. The rubber snapped as it went taut between the headboard and the collar. Her ass cheeks brushed his undamaged knee. He lifted her knees and set her feet on the bed, each one to the outside of his hips. The pink flush of her pussy lips snared his gaze. He swallowed a mouthful of drool.

"Master, please," she whimpered.

"You know the rules, girl."

He twisted open the lube and squirted a large line of the silvery gel down her cleft. She twisted and moaned. Her leg muscles contracted. Her toes curled into the sheets. She set her fingers between her pussy lips and began to stroke. Her eyes fluttered shut. A blush stained her face and chest.

"Don't do it," he warned.

He watched and waited, observing her struggle with her body's demands and his expectations. With a hard shudder, she moved her hands away from herself prior to a climax. Restless and frustrated, she twisted knots into the sheets.

"Please, Master..."

Give this slave an inch and she tried to take over the entire house.

"Business first, girl."

"You could ignore ritual, Master, just this once."

He was the man to tame this wildcat.
Hell-fucking-yeah.

"Ain't gonna happen."

He tugged on a glove and slipped two heavily lubed fingers past her sphincter and worked to spread the lubricant inside her body. He had no concerns with her ability to take the initial penetration. She'd proved more than experienced with this bed trick. And she'd proved enthusiastic.

In fact, the eager butt-slut was already humping his fingers.

Zach withdrew his fingers with a sound of slick lube and a clenching body. He pulled off the glove. It snapped free, like the sound of a hand slap against a butt cheek, then went flying as he tossed it across the bedroom.

He leaned forward and caught her chin in one hand. Propped up by the other hand placed on the bed, he watched her eyes, at first hazy with desire and need, clear as full awareness arrived. No excuses. No games.

He fitted his cocktip to the portal of her ass. The muscles relaxed, easing his passage, but he stopped. The urge to range forward, to slide into the taboo area, clawed through him like a tornado of ragged-toothed saws. He cupped her buttocks and spread them wide.