Missionary Position (Masters of the Prairie Winds Club Book 7) (5 page)

Fischer’s hand rubbed soothing circles over the small of Lara’s back—he just couldn’t seem to stop touching her, and he wasn’t sure if it was for her comfort or his own. When he’d looked across the room to see her eyes widen as if she’d been desperately trying to see past the darkness and she battled to keep the darkness from encroaching, he’d felt his entire world shift. He’d known she was special—that she was the one he and his brother had hoped to find, but the realization of human frailty hit him hard and knowing he couldn’t reach her before she sank to the floor had made him almost physically ill.

He’d spent months waiting for his brother to visit Dark Desires and meet the luscious beauty now seated on his lap. Months of seeing her almost every day, but not being able to touch her except in his fantasies—and Lord almighty there had been plenty of those. While it had been pure torture, it had also given him time to get to know her—time to form the bond of friendship he knew made their D/s relationship particularly strong because at least on a very basic level, she already trusted him.

Lara felt perfect cuddled against his chest, her head tucked beneath his chin. Peter sat next to him and Fischer could feel his brother struggling to divide his attention between the woman their hearts had claimed as their own and the plans being made to find out what happened to her parents. Fischer was content to let her listen as the Wests’ team put together a strategy that seemed more like a way to fend off Eric Roberts than it did to investigate the disappearance of a couple of missionaries—or at least he hadn’t minded her interest until he realized she was listening far too intently.

Shifting Lara on his lap so he could whisper in her ear, he cautioned, “Cupcake, don’t even think about getting involved in this operation. You’ll find yourself in more trouble than you can imagine—and very quickly.” When she stiffened, he knew he’d hit it dead center. “Perhaps we’d better head upstairs, baby, it might be the only thing that keeps you from adding to the already impressive number of swats you’ve earned this evening.” He slid his hand under the hem of her dress to slide his fingers through her soaking sex. When she stiffened against him and tried to close her legs, Fischer snarled, “Don’t even think about denying your Master access to your body, subbie, unless you have a particular desire to find yourself laying over my lap with your ass bared to everyone present as I give you the paddling you so richly deserve.” Feeling her emotional turmoil, Fischer simply waited, his hand caught between her thighs. He could have easily forced her to open her legs for him, but that wasn’t what submission was about. This was a test of her ability to trust him—to trust that he had her best interest in mind—even when she wasn’t thrilled with the way things were playing out. Would she put herself in his care or deny her true nature and push back against her deep need to submit?

Lara felt like her mind was splintering in a hundred different directions. A part of her wanted nothing more than to curl up in a ball and cry—she knew where her parents had been posted last and disappearing in that part of the world was usually a one-way ticket to nowhere. Another part of her wanted to hear the men’s plans to investigate her mom and dad’s disappearance because no one knew them better than their only daughter, and she fully intended to be involved in any attempts to find them. She felt a sudden rush of guilt as she wondered if she could have helped if she’d been there.

The biggest part of her wanted to lose herself in her Master’s touch, to simply surrender to him and let him lead her to a place where her mind could float free from all the frightening possibilities clouding her thoughts at the moment. If she submitted to Fischer, she wouldn’t have to worry about anything for a while—and letting go of all the anxiety and fear, even if it was only for a short time, sounded very appealing indeed.

It felt like her body made the decision for her, and the prospect of being able to shut down the fears quickly taking over had been more temptation than Lara was able to resist. She relaxed her legs and felt a fresh rush of moisture coat her slick sex as Fischer pressed his lips against her ear and cooed sweet words of approval. “Such a good girl, I’m proud of you for being brave. And I promise to still your troubled mind.” He turned her face to his, sealing his lips over hers in a kiss that was nothing short of a statement of ownership. There was no prelude, just pure carnal desire clearly spoken in a universal language as old as time. His tongue swept in to duel with her own before staking its claim. Fischer’s scent surrounded her and pulled her mind into the churning abyss that her body had already willingly plunged into headfirst.

Lara had been so distracted by Fischer’s kiss, she hadn’t realized he’d picked her up and had moved until he set her on her feet in front of the elevator. She was panting, trying desperately to pull in enough oxygen to get her bearings. How on earth did the man manage to completely scramble her brain with nothing more than his kiss? She felt her knees tremble and hoped like hell they wouldn’t fold out from under her again. Watching the doors slide closed shutting out the sounds of the main room, Lara looked over at Fischer just in time to see him enter the code that would open the elevator’s backdoor when they reached the floor where their private office suite looked out over the club’s main room. She looked down where his hand encircled her upper arm and wondered for a moment if he was trying to keep her on her feet or prevent her escape.
As fucking if…
the only escape she was interested in is the one that would shut off the fear pounding between her ears like the beating drums of the jungle tribes of the Amazon.
Damn those always scared the crapola out of me.

Fischer seemed to sense she was sliding out of the moment, he turned to her when the elevator started to move, and simply said, “Strip.” The one word command set her entire body on fire. The heated rush that blew over her made tiny droplets of sweat bead up on her chest as desire flushed over her skin. With trembling fingers, Lara gathered the hem of her dress and began pulling it slowly over her head. Since he’d already removed the tape she used to secure the dress’s plunging neckline, it slid off easily.

She placed the silky garment in his waiting hand and shuddered as the air conditioning blew over her heated skin causing goose flesh to work its way across her bare breasts like ripples over water. The contrasting sensations sent her libido into overdrive and she heard herself moan softy as his fingers trailed down the side of her cheek to trace a line along her chin before continuing down the side of her neck. When he reached her collarbone, Fischer’s finger rotated just enough so the manicured nail rasped down the outside curve of her breast. That simple touch felt like a line of fire and she gasped, her mind was already starting to spin as she struggled to process all the sensations.

He hadn’t even touched the nipple, but it tightened quickly in response—as if begging him to linger and give it the attention it was seeking. “Your body craves a Master’s touch, baby.”
Only yours. Yours and Master Peter’s.
She’d never responded to another Dom the way she did to the two of them.

Lara wanted to keep them for her own, but they’d only eluded to making their relationship more permanent at some point in the future, and she was determined she wouldn’t beg—at least not for
that
. Okay, so maybe she was being old-fashioned, but it just “shouldn’t be done” as her mother always said. “Good girls don’t have to chase after men. Men may play with the bad girls, but they chase and keep good girls, Lara—don’t forget that.” She could still hear her mother’s words ringing in her ears. When she realized she might never get another chance to hear her mother’s voice, Lara felt her arousal fade as sadness moved over her.

Blinking back the tears that were threatening to fall, Lara realized the elevator door stood open, but Fischer wasn’t moving—he was simply studying her, his gaze laser sharp. “What were you thinking about, baby? And don’t you dare edit, I’m fairly sure your pretty ass is already going to be worn out before we’ve finished, and I’d hate to see you add to your troubles.” His voice might have been soft, but the demand was easy to hear. The problem was, how much could she share without revealing how insecure she was actually feeling?

When she didn’t answer right away, he sighed in frustration and hit a button on the small elevator’s control panel that kept the doors from closing. He stepped to the side and pressed a small recessed button she’d never noticed before. Two toeholds emerged from the floor and a series of what looked like gold towel bars at various heights slid into position from a panel along the sidewall of the elevator. Turning to her he simply said, “Remove your shoes.” She felt her body respond, but when she saw the hard look in his eyes, she took an involuntary step back. Fischer didn’t say anything, he simply leaned back in a deceptively casual pose, crossing one ankle in front of the other and hooking his thumbs just inside the front pockets of his slacks. She studied him as well, there wasn’t anything threatening in his body language, simply raw desire and steely determination. Lara took a deep breath hoping it would infuse her with the courage she was suddenly lacking as she slowly unbuckled the ankle straps of her stiletto sandals. Bending down, she picked them up and then held them out to him.

Fischer wasn’t sure a woman’s simple act of trust had ever affected him more. He’d seen the indecision in her eyes and had practically been able to feel how torn she’d been downstairs. He would bet his inheritance the shock had been wearing off and she’d already started feeling guilty—playing every possible scenario over in her mind and always coming back to the
erroneous
conclusion that if she’d been with her parents this wouldn’t have happened. And even though he wanted nothing more than to pull her into his arms and comfort her, that wasn’t what she
needed
. Right now the beautifully bare submissive standing in front of him needed to be reminded that she was right where she belonged. She needed to know he and his brother would protect her even when it conflicted with what she thought she wanted. And she needed to feel the safety in consistency, and that meant holding her accountable for her behavior and following through on the punishment she’d earned.

Fischer had learned a lot during the time he’d worked for Cameron Barnes, the man might not have Fischer’s ability to hear the thoughts of those around him, but Cam was the most intuitive Dom Fischer had ever met. The man known as Master C had taken Fischer under his wing and mentored him, teaching him that there were times the words moving through someone’s mind were often little more than self-talk and therefore not entirely reliable measures of their true feelings. Recognizing the difference between what someone told themselves they should want and what their body craved was the difference between meeting the submissive’s needs and just fucking—the difference between pushing a sub’s boundaries to broaden their horizons and simply achieving the satisfaction of having power over another person.

Stepping forward to take the shoes from her trembling fingers, Fischer wrapped his hand over hers, holding her hand and her gaze for several seconds before speaking. “Do you trust me, baby? Do you trust me to give you exactly what you
need
?” He’d deliberately emphasized the word need, because he had no intention of giving her what she wanted—no, this was all about what she needed to still the turmoil he could see quickly overwhelming her. In that moment, Fischer had never been more grateful for the time Cam had spent tutoring him because every nuance of Lara’s body language was practically shouting her need and Cam had taught him how to recognize all the signals. Taking her dress had exposed her physically, but he’d known taking her shoes would make her feel a whole new level of vulnerability—it was part of the reason subs were rarely allowed to wear shoes in the club.