In Training (3 page)

The slave consideration has already begun.

Abby's hands trembled as the realization hit home. The idea terrified, yet it was what she'd craved all her adult life. It was why she'd invited Seth into her home.

It felt wholly natural to turn from the main dish and take the salad fixings to the table. She smiled and drizzled the dressing onto the crisp leaves and small bites of artichoke hearts. She filled his dishes with edible creation after edible creation, her heart warming with each smile he gave and each sound of approval.

Throughout the meal, he proved educated, literate, and held an unusual style of humor. They found common delights in favorite authors, movies enjoyed, and deep discussions on the metaphysical and spiritual world. They laughed as they traded life stories, both of the heartbreaking and humorous kind. He, at last, praised her efforts, and Abby bit her lip against the urge to burst into tears.

He returned the conversation to the reason why they were there.

"I can see we're going to get along fine," he said.

Nodding to himself as much as to her, he stacked his plates neatly and set them aside, revealing his left-handedness. Steel blue eyes regarded hers with an intensity that curled Abby's toes.

"There are a couple of questions still to cover. Of primary importance to us both is our health. Two weeks ago I was checked out by professionals and am clean of any diseases. Sexually, I will not infect you with any unwelcome transmittables. I have a certificate of proof, if you require."

Abby flushed. She choked, grabbed her glass and took a hefty swallow of cola, which only caused her to cough harder. Tears welling in her eyes, she flapped her hands in front of her face and gasped for breath.

He smiled, amused. "It had to be said, and better clearly and honestly than not."

"Another excellent point," Abby said on a wheeze.

"Yes."

He waited while she gathered her composure: wiping her eyes, patting her dimpled cheeks, breathing deeply in a way that caused her spectacular tits to heave. He locked his back teeth and refused to divulge his hunger. Now is not the time to show weakness, he reminded himself.

After a few more deep breaths, Abby set down the napkin and straightened her shoulders. "I, too, have recently passed a healthy body report," she pronounced.

Excellent. Now we can proceed.

He began his investigation. How long had she been in the kink lifestyle? What had brought her to the BDSM community? How involved in local events was she? What were her personal kink practices? What were her hard limits? What was her position on floggings? Canings? Blood play?

He answered each question himself without prompting, giving Abby a glimpse into the sexual interests of a man comfortable with his sexual needs, offering her insight into the man he was and the master he would be. He made his decision in his usual way: without hesitation.

"We seem to be a good match sexually."

* * * *

Abby's gaze dropped. He needed to know one more thing before he made that decision. Her fingers worried the napkin in her hand for long moments before she raised her eyes back to his. It's for the best, she told herself. He needed to know, just in case he wanted to opt out.

"Let me show you what you'd be working with." She rose to her feet and walked into the living room. The soft tread of Seth's footsteps followed. She leaned into each lamp as she switched them on. The early night had fallen as they'd eaten, normal for early spring in the Pacific Northwest, but within moments, light chased away the shadows.

Keeping her back to him, she pulled off her shirt and unhooked the purple-and-black lace bra, which she let fall. She covered her breasts with her hands and took a couple of bracing breaths. Then, straightening her shoulders, she turned to face Seth and dropped her hands to reveal her shame.

Along with the fine things that were Abigail Harrison was something she was ashamed of every day.

"They're not pretty," she said, as the harsh living room lights revealed the boat-anchor designs made by a surgeon's scalpel. Forced to clear the unusual huskiness from her voice, she nervously stated the obvious. "They're scarred."

Seth's gaze lingered on the display. Tilting his head to the side, he stepped closer and brushed his fingertips across the swell of her breasts. He touched with care, as if acknowledging an open wound visible in her psyche, even though the physical incisions were long healed.

He palmed the weight of them, one in each hand, stalling Abby's breath. Warmth rushed through her veins. Her nipples tightened into hard nubs.

"What happened?"

Her teen years had been spent being laughed at by her peers for having boobs the size of watermelons. Her huge tits had caught the unwanted attention from pedophiles like her stepfather to fetishists who lusted after the breasts instead of the woman. She'd hated her oversized breasts so badly she'd had a doctor shave off five pounds of breast tissue. "I had reductive surgery."

"Back pain?"

"Lots of pain," she said, but not all of it was physical.

He was silent, touching and examining, his breathing slow and composed. He traced the tiny, silvery lines with tenderness and care. While the surgery had greatly reduced their size, it hadn't erased her self-hatred.

"They're ugly, aren't they?" Her voice quavered on the question.

His eyes flicked up to meet hers, revealing a dark flash in their depths that he quickly muted. "The scars? They are barely visible."

He obviously needs glasses.
"But see them here...and here?" She pushed her flesh this way and that, showing him the path of the surgeon's scalpel in a wholly masochistic exhibition of body loathing.

Seth caught her wrists, pulled them away from her body and stacked them at the small of her back, holding them there for a moment as his eyes caught hers and levied an unspoken message. She sucked in a startled breath and held her position as his hands dropped from hers.

He resumed the caresses, brushing Abby's skin with the backs of his hands before dancing his fingers across the landscape of her areolas. She shivered.

He licked one fingertip and brushed it across a nipple, pulling a whimper from her. Flash-fire raced between her nipple and her clit. She bit her bottom lip and swallowed a moan.

"Can you feel that?" he asked.

"Yes," she managed to answer, her voice gone husky again.

The sound must have pleased Seth, if his satisfied smile was any indication. He cupped both breasts, flicking each nipple with a thumb. "And that?"

Her suddenly weak knees threatened to give way. "Yes. Oh, yes."

He bent and took one aching bud into his mouth. Abby arched into his touch. Delight zinged along her nerves, coalescing into the heated focus of Seth's mouth drawing on her breast. She pressed into the lash of his tongue, her toes curling into the thick carpet. Seth pulled her against his hard body, the thrust of his erection like a ridge of steel against her abdomen.

He nipped softly. She became sensation, taking in everything--the sound of her blood racing in her veins; the sparkles of light behind closed eyelids; his scent, totally masculine, earthy, and with a hint of cigarette. He squeezed gently. His mouth moved between each nipple, licking, nipping, and suckling. He slid his hands down and flexed them into the curves of her ass, as she helplessly pressed herself against him.

A hungry mewl broke from her throat. She speared her hands into his hair, relishing the texture--clean and soft, silky and strong--and he released her. She rocked on her feet, struggling for balance both mentally and physically. Her eyes widened at the sight of the frown marring his brow.

His eyes, cold with displeasure, caused an ice storm to shudder down her spine. She dropped trembling hands, wrapping around her stomach to hold herself against the unexpected chill. "What? Did I do something wrong?"

His answer was to catch her chin with both hands and cover her mouth with his.

Startled, she inhaled her shock, and he breached her lips with his tongue. He tasted like the Italian spices from dinner and something else...something earthly and primitive. He licked into her without a shred of gentleness, plundering her mouth with a low growl. She shuddered, surrendering to the onslaught, accepting his possession with moan of submission.

He adjusted his mouth's placement on hers, tilting her head to his satisfaction, and feasted. Another moan poured from her as she surrendered, shuddering. His tongue tangled with hers, dominating, retreating, pushing inward again to repeat the process.

He stormed her awareness. Her world spun. Then he pulled away with a moan of his own. She struggled for balance in the sensual mist that fogged her mind.

His teeth nipped her chin and jaw. She leaned into the sensual storm. His fingers tweaked her nipples, bringing shivers and gasps. His tongue made a hot sweep along the skin between jaw and neck. She bared her throat to his teeth. His voice rumbled, bringing shivers and a pebbling of her skin. His breath stirred the wisps of hair beside her ear.

He reached for the snap of her jeans, and Abby slammed into reality.

"No!"

He reared back, his brows crashing together like thunder. "No?"

"I'm not pretty there." She hid her snaps from his hands with a sense of desperation.

"That's for me to decide."

"What?"

Who did he think he was to lay claim to rights regarding her desirability? How dare he try to decide for her the status of her body's attractiveness? She knew darned well what she looked like. She'd display her scars in a fit of honesty, but, by God, she'd keep her belly fat hidden.

He spanned her ribs with both hands, briefly caressing the underside of her breasts before stepping back from her. His hands dropped from her to dangle easily at his sides, but he speared her with an icy stare. "Undress."

"What?"

He did nothing but wait, his jaw hard and uncompromising. Tears welled in Abby's eyes as the silence between them lengthened. Who would win this battle of wills?

Her lips trembled as she eased her jeans and panties over her hips and let them drop to the floor. He watched as she tossed aside her clothing and stood before him, naked in body and soul.

"I'm afraid," she confessed on a whisper.

"I understand."

She watched as his gaze roved across the scarred skin of her breasts, across her imperfect hips and thighs, and down the length and curve of her calves and feet. His pupils dilated, allowing a gleam of darkness into the core of his gaze. He licked his lips. A muscle jumped in his jaw. He didn't look away. In fact, he stepped closer. Hunger roughened his voice as he said, "On your back, girl."

He didn't appear to be repulsed! Encouraged, Abby lay down on the thick carpet as directed. She spread her raised knees in brazen invitation and watched as he knelt between them. She bit her bottom lip as honeyed warmth eased from her waxed pussy. She felt no urge to hide herself, which was unusual.

He tugged off his shirt and bared the broad landscape of his chest and well-defined abs. He was perfect, all hard planes and angles and mouthwatering muscles, not like her. Body-consciousness surged to the forefront and she dropped a knee across her vulnerable flesh--an action he corrected with a firm flick of his hand that shoved the errant knee back into its previous position. The dark sound of his displeasure shivered along Abby's nerves, wringing a cry from her throat.

He glanced at her, saying, "Easy, li'l one." He caught her knees and caressed down the skin from her calves to her ankles. Her heels slid across the carpet as he spread her legs wider. "I tend to immediately correct a slave's position when I see it in error. There's no need to be afraid."

The sound of his whisky-smooth brogue caused Abby's womb to contract hard enough to jerk her shoulders off the floor. She dug her toes into the carpet and echoed his words. "A--a slave's position?"

"Aye," he answered. "This one is a display, one taken by a slave in acknowledgement that her body belongs to another. I'm surprised and pleased"--a hint of a grin curved his lips as his hands slowly eased up and down her thighs--"that you took the position."

"I didn't know. I just-- Ooohh..."

He'd sent one finger down her excitement-slicked folds, easing between lower lips and circling the hard nub of her clit. She moaned and arched into the touch. Her eyes fluttered shut as he teased the tight bundle of nerves, testing her hunger and enhancing her heat. Fireworks sparkled along her nerves and tickled her nipples.

"Your body did," he said.

Tracing one finger up and down the cleft, he flicked her clit. Her heels rose off the floor as her body jerked at the contact. She shifted on the carpet, hungry for more contact, for more...just more.

He cupped her, setting his thumb to work making slow, erotic circles against her clit. She whimpered and pressed into the touch. Seth spread his fingers across her pubic bone, pressing down and sliding his thumb into her with a husky growl. "Mine."

She cried out, a desperate sound of pleasure pulled from her soul. It rushed through her blood, filling her senses and her mind. Seth rotated his hand, fingers switching places with his thumb, and penetrating with precision, first with one finger, then with two, then three fingers easing in and out of honey-slicked cunt.

She clenched around the welcome invasion, intensifying the pleasure. He pushed high and tight into her pussy, searching for and finding the illusive g-spot, wrenching a high sound of pleasure from her throat.

"Beautiful," he said.

The sound of his approval warmed a cold and lonely place in her soul. Something inside her broke loose and flew free, reaching skyward on wings of excitement. She forced open heavy-lidded eyes and watched as he pumped his fingers in and out of her body, his gaze focused on his work, his stark expression carved by hunger.

She raised her hips into his delicious possession. Lights danced around her, flickers of color and energy that sparkled near them both. Thunder rolled.