Over the Line (17 page)

“You’ve been protesting that you hate the idea of submission, but your pussy is wet. I might think you enjoy verbally sparring, even when you get defeated. Especially then.”

“Really, you should give up the psychoanalysis, Sir. You suck at it. There’s nothing about the idea of submitting that turns me on.”

“I disagree, little subbie.”

She tensed at the endearment.

“The correct response is, ‘I love it when you call me that, Sir. Yes, I’m your little subbie’.”

Sydney cleared her throat, trying to cover the fact that she’d nearly snorted.

He continued to move back and forth until she swayed in time with his touch. “You’ve got a beautiful body, Sydney.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

“So responsive.” He grasped her underwear in much the same way that he had earlier in the kitchen, see-sawing the material harshly over her clit.

Holding her ankles was nearly impossible as he abraded her pussy. She wanted to stand up, to face him, ride his thigh like she had that one time in the river.

Deftly, he brought her to arousal.

She squeezed her eyes shut, wondering if there was any way she could manage a small orgasm without him knowing it. Could she be quiet and unobtrusive enough to hide it?

Right then, he snapped the elastic waistband of her boy shorts, the tiny prick of pain distracting her from the imminent climax.

“You’re close,” he said.

“Yes. Yes, Sir.” Very. She lifted her heels off the ground, unsure if he would really continue to withhold what she wanted, or whether he was testing her.

“Good.” He moved faster.

Her legs began to quake. “Oh, oh, Sir. Oh!”

“Would you like to orgasm?”

“Yes! Please, Sir.”

He stopped.

She let out a shaky, vexed sigh. Tears stung the backs of her eyes.

“Good little subbie,” he murmured. “You’re not arguing with me.”

He couldn’t possibly have any idea how difficult that was for her.

He caught a handful of her hair at the root. “Stand.” Because of the way he held her, it didn’t hurt.

He helped her up, but when she would have faced him, he kept his hand next to her scalp, preventing her from moving.

“Kneel.”

Again, he was there to help her. One of her shoes came off, so she kicked off the other one as well.

“Legs a little farther apart,” he said, releasing his grip on her hair.

She complied. Desperately she wished she could look at him so she could decipher his expression. But she knew his behaviour was intentional.

Her skirt hung askew, and a gentle breeze cooled her heated pussy.

“Thank me.”

“For what, Sir?”

“My attentions.”

“I didn’t—” She shut her mouth. “Thank you, Sir.”

“I’m not ready for you to come yet.”

“Anything you say, Sir.” She was a long way from believing that herself. But the anger she might sometimes feel wasn’t there. It was a start, she realised.

He moved around to stand in front of her. His crotch was straight in front of her.

“Suck my dick,” he told her.

That
she liked to do. She fumbled with his belt, then the fastening on his jeans, and he offered no help, seeming to enjoy watching her struggle.

She finally freed him and greedily took his cockhead into her mouth. She loved the clean taste of him and the slightly musky scent. Something elemental jumped through her veins, like the pulse of time itself.

Since he was already hard, it took no time to get him fully erect. She loved the feeling of power that came with arousing him. This man…

He moved his hips a bit, forcing her to take more of his length. She shifted to get a better angle and he withdrew.

She sat back on her calves and frowned up at him. Was he really going to spend the whole night frustrating her?

“You’re a great cocksucker,” he said.

His eyelids were partially lowered, and from that she knew that he, too, would prefer they continue.

“I am happy to finish you off, Sir.”

“I’d like that, little subbie. Later. There’s something unutterably rewarding about being turned on,” he said.

“I’ve been told it’s uncomfortable.”

“It can be,” he agreed.

“So then…?”

“I don’t ask you to give anything I’m unwilling to endure.”

His response surprised her.

He stroked his cock a few times then readjusted himself, zipped his pants and re-fastened his jeans. “Your new shoes are in the master closet.”

“Would you like me to model my new outfit?”

“Later.”

“Sir?”

“For now, I’d like to see you only in the shoes. I don’t want any article of clothing getting in the way while I whip you.”

“Yes…Sir.”

He offered his hand, and she took it. When she stood in front of him, he said, “Don’t touch yourself.”

“Anything you say, Sir.” This time, she meant it.

Apparently satisfied, he nodded. “Meet me back out here. You’ve got three minutes.”

Chapter Seven

Michael watched her go. Gregorio and Damien had both been right—she was a challenge. But when he’d called the Den to get her contact information, Damien had reacted favourably, suggesting she might be worth the effort.

The two men interacted with all the Den’s members. The house’s atmosphere lent itself to intimate discussions, so both men knew something about her. Damien had said he suspected she had a tough outer shell to protect herself. Gregorio believed she acted like a brat so that she could collect more spankings without ever opening herself up emotionally. Her reputation, he’d suggested, was a carefully constructed veneer.

Over the last ten or eleven days, Michael had spent a lot of time thinking about her and wondering about the best way to approach and ensnare her. He’d ordered the flogger and new shoes for her. That may not have been his best idea. The very thought of seeing her in them constantly diverted blood from his brain.

He’d contacted her while she was travelling, but only a few times. He’d wanted her interest piqued, but he hadn’t wanted her getting nervous and skittering away.

His work with horses had taught him a few things about patience. Even when he wanted to rush things—especially then—he forced himself to take a mental step back. He’d made plenty of mistakes in his marriage, in regards to his expectations. On the day his divorce had become final, he’d grabbed a long-forgotten bottle of bourbon from the liquor cabinet. As he’d downed his third shot of whisky, he’d vowed never again to compromise.

But that would have been so easy with the delectable and determined Sydney. She wanted him to lick her skin with leather kisses. Nothing sounded more appealing to him, either. But ultimately, giving in was a losing proposition. Unless she was willing to commit herself emotionally, she’d simply get her physical desires met and move on to a new Dom.

If the opposite happened and she stayed, he might end up pissed off that he’d sacrificed what he believed in for the sake of a quick fuck. She meant more to him than that. And, Christ, he wanted to mean more than that to her.

When she’d first arrived this afternoon, his denying her an orgasm had infuriated her. He’d debated what to do, feeling that the decision was an emotional landmine. He’d wanted to relieve and reassure her. But he was determined to be clear about where he stood. If they both didn’t operate from the same understanding, they ran the risk of crossing over the lines they’d each drawn to protect their hearts.

Michael had been more relieved than he’d imagined possible when she’d joined him on the patio, looked him in the eye and told him she was more interested in sex than steak. So was he. A girl after his own heart.

A loud squeal rent the air.

Evidently she’d found the shoes.

He grinned, delighted that he’d made her happy. He’d do a lot to hear that from her again.

While she was still inside, he grabbed the flogger and a ball gag from a box he’d put together. He laid both on top of the table.

Last night, he’d spent the better part of an hour cutting rope to the length perfect to secure her to the wooden fence. Now he took all four pieces and placed them side by side.

Earlier, she’d challenged him, telling him she didn’t believe in the concept of subspace. Maybe she couldn’t conceive of the possibility that she might let go enough to lose control. But if she could reach the stage where she was no longer conscious of anything but a delirious cycle of pleasure and pain, he intended to be the one to take her there.

When she rejoined him, shoulders pulled back, chin angled, blonde hair spilling over her shoulders, his mouth fell open.

He prided himself on the fact that he had a hell of an imagination, but with Sydney it hadn’t been nearly wild enough. “That’s a hell of a get-up, little subbie.” The tall red shoes with metal spikey studs on the heels made her calves appear extraordinarily shapely. The full frontal sight of her nearly did him in.

She’d put a touch of scandalous gloss on her lips, making them appear fuller and more kissable. Her small pink nipples were pebbling beautifully under his scrutiny, and her bare pussy drew his gaze towards the juncture of her thighs. The whole package, including her compact athletic body, made him glad to be male.

“Do you like the shoes, Sir?”

“
Fuck me
,” he said.

She grinned saucily. “I think that can be arranged.”

Now who was in control?
“I’m going to give Chewie an extra carrot tonight,” he said. “I’m glad she ate your other pair. But the sight of you in these might have caused me a heart attack.” No doubt it
had
shaved several years off his life.

“Do you need me to give you mouth-to-mouth, Sir?”

“Cheeky sub.” But he needed something, stat. Maybe a bucket of cold water or a jump into the river. Maybe to jack off so circulation could resume. He severed the connection of their gazes so he could focus on something other than his physical response to her nakedness. “I want you tied to the fence, Sydney.”

Her smile became somewhat secretive, and the way she licked her upper lip told him he’d intrigued her even more. “Of course, Sir.”

That was the tone he needed from her, honest and compliant. This time, they both wanted the same thing.

“Now?” she asked.

“No. Since you’ll be totally tied to the fence, unable to get away, we have a few things to discuss first.”

Surprising him, she didn’t roll her eyes or otherwise object. Was she realising it would do her no good anyway?

“I’ll be using rawhide as rope, instead of easy-release handcuffs. It will take longer to bind you and longer to get you out, especially if you panic.”

“I won’t panic, Sir. I’ve been tied before, and I trust you more than I’ve trusted anyone I’ve ever played with.” Then her gaze lighted on the flogger. “Is that the one you sent me a picture of?”

“Would you like to hold it?”

“Do you mind, Sir?”

“I ordered it for you. It’s yours.” He picked it up and offered it to her.

“It’s beautiful. I love the colour!”

“I thought it might suit you.”

She took the hilt and shook it, scattering the thongs. “The strands are thicker than I’m accustomed to seeing.”

“It’s made from deer hide,” he explained. “The pain is meant to be thuddy rather than stingy. I think you’ll like it. I’ll be able to beat you longer than with the other flogger I have.”

“But I’ll still get marks, right?”

“Do you want them?” he asked, unclear on what she was hoping for.

“Yes,” she said. She met his gaze with her open, readable blue eyes. When she looked at him like that, she had no artifice.

The raw hunger excited him.

“Please,” she added.

“I live to serve,” he told her.

“Thank you, Sir.”

The sincerity in her voice undid him. Whatever struggles they endured, she was worth it.

She offered him back the flogger.

“Uh, is that a gag?” she asked.

“It is.”

“For me?”

“Is that a problem?” He watched her reaction. The fact that she’d taken one step away telegraphed her nervousness, but she hadn’t refused outright, meaning she wasn’t distraught. “We’re outside. I want you to be able to completely let go without worrying. Your screams will be muffled, and no one will hear your sobs.”

She regarded him without speaking.

“If you don’t want to wear it, that’s fine with me.”

“I…” She didn’t finish.

“Tell me your slow word?”

“Turtle.”

It was the first time she hadn’t broken it into two mocking syllables. Progress. Welcome progress from the bratty sub. “And your safe word?”

“Everest.”

“Use either at any time.”

She looked up. “I promise.”

“Thank you.”

“Sir?”

“Nothing matters more to me than your well-being. I don’t want to fight you to ensure your safety.”

“Right now, I’m fine. Horny.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“But fine, Sir. I know you’ll give me an orgasm when you feel I’ve earned it or deserve it.”

“Are you being an insolent sub?”

“No, Sir. I’m just being agreeable.” She smiled brilliantly. ”I understand your confusion.”

He frowned. She was far too clever for her own good. And his.

Continuing, he picked up a scrap of fabric that was nestled at the bottom of the box. He extended the remnants of the red cotton bandana towards her. “I want you to hold onto this. Since you’ll be gagged, it will take the place of your safe word. Drop it and the scene will immediately pause. I’ll remove the gag. If you need to be released from the bondage, I’ll see to it right away.”

She nodded. “I understand.”

“Any questions?”

“Only one, Sir.”

He waited.

“Can we freaking get on with it?”

“You do understand that impatience won’t get things to move faster?” He held back a grin. She was incorrigible, and he appreciated it. “And it won’t earn you a more severe beating?”

“You, Sir, are a spoilsport.”

He captured her chin in his hand. “Would you like to be tied up and beaten, or would you prefer to suck my dick all afternoon?”