Uncollared (13 page)

Her flesh rippled around him as she came, biting her lip and curving into him. He nipped her neck with his teeth, and another orgasm crackled through her.

When the pulsations subsided, Mia sank against him, her legs as soft as the cooked pasta they’d eaten for dinner. Sighing, she allowed Chess to drape her over the counter once more. She closed her eyes, pressing her cheek to the cool granite top as Chess moved away. Mia somehow grew conscious of the sound of the refrigerator door opening and closing. A few moments later, she yelped as something icy cold pressed against her burning-hot butt.

“What?” Her eyes flew open. Chess held a quart of ice cream.

“We haven’t had our dessert yet,” he said, grinning. He pressed the carton to her ass again, and she squeaked. A moment later, she sighed.

“Feels good?”

“Mmm.” The cold ice cream certainly eased the burn. If only she could sit in a kiddie pool full of the stuff…

He chuckled and tugged on the back of her blouse. “Stand up now.”

Mia did. When she faced him, he was just putting a spoonful of ice cream into his mouth. “Lift your shirt.” His words were a bit garbled.

When she raised it to just below her breasts, he gestured with the spoon. “Higher. I want to see those pretty breasts.”

She bunched the fabric higher until her lacy white bra was exposed.

Chess flicked open the front fastener of her bra. “Mmm.” He smiled, admiring her rosy-brown nipples, which were hard and aching for his attention. He pushed the spoon deep into the ice cream, pulled it straight out. A thin layer of the dessert coated the spoon. Without warning, he pressed the spoon to her areola.

“Yah!” Mia jumped, the cold metal freezing and burning at once.

“Easy.” He painted her nipple with a thin white smear of ice cream. Then he licked it off, his tongue swirling her flesh until he’d removed every speck. He suctioned her nipple into his hot mouth for a sucking kiss and seemed reluctant to let go.

“Delicious.” He pulled back and stared into her eyes. She trembled, suddenly feeling connected to him in a way that frightened her.

If he realized it, he pretended not to notice. “Here.” He scooped out some ice cream and held the spoon to her mouth. “Have some.”

She opened her mouth, and the cold, sweet flavor filled it. She giggled as she looked at the carton.

He smiled. “What?”

“It’s vanilla!”

“I like vanilla…” Chess gave his eyebrows a wiggle. “When it comes to ice cream.” He popped another spoonful into his mouth and swooped down to capture her other nipple. Mia gasped at the frigid sensation, then sighed as his mouth warmed.

When he pulled away, he told her, “Put your hands by your side.”

Mia obeyed, and the blouse fell, covering her once again. Chess helped her step out of her lower garments and guided her to the living room. He reclined on the sofa and gestured for her to lie on top of him.

“Like this? I’m not too heavy?” Her breasts were pressed to his chest, her pubis to his groin. His heavy cock stirred beneath his denim jeans, and Mia realized that she had not yet seen it this evening. She wanted to. She wanted to do more than just see it—she wanted to touch it, hold it, return some of the satisfaction that he had given her.

“Are you kidding? My God, you’re a feather.” He propped his head against the armrest and stretched his body beneath her. He’d brought the ice cream with him and offered her another spoonful. He took one for himself and set the carton on the floor.

“How’s your fanny?” He palmed her hot butt cheek.

Mia smiled. “Sore, Sir.”

“I should hope so, after the blistering I gave it. I thought this position might be a little easier for you than sitting.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

He acknowledged her thanks with a nod. “You should thank me for the spanking too. For caring enough to correct you when you’re disrespectful.”

Her heart thumped. Did he care? She hoped so. Because she cared for him. As far as she was concerned, their activities were far more than play.

Be careful, Mia. Don’t make the same mistake you made with Philip.

Their eyes met, and Mia couldn’t look away. She swallowed hard and spoke, her voice low. “Thank you, Sir.”

“You’re welcome.” His own voice had dropped an octave. The moment seemed to stretch. Mia felt the sudden impulse—no, the need—to kiss him.

But this was his show. Last night he’d kissed her freely, claiming her. But this evening, he’d made no move to kiss her again. Why?

Chess began to play with her, rubbing and kneading her ass. Mia wriggled, a bit shy at first. This wasn’t the same as when he spanked her and she couldn’t see his face. Soon enough she relaxed. She couldn’t deny it felt good. But she stiffened when his fingers coasted between her cheeks and he toyed with her there.

Chess watched her carefully as he lightly brushed her anus. “You’ve never played here before?”

Her face hot, Mia shook her head.

“Would you like to?”

“I’m…not sure.”

His fingers circled her rosette. “Think about it.”

Again she felt his cock stir and grow hard against her. She shifted,
accidentally on purpose
, rubbing against him.

“There is something I would like, Sir.” She levered herself up, drawing her knees to either side of his hips. Her cleft brushed the ridge of his erection. The soft denim of his jeans felt sandpaper rough against her tender bottom.

His eyes widened, and he grasped her hips to keep her still. “What is that?”

“I’d like to make you come.” She felt bold, daring. He’d given her so much satisfaction, but for some reason hadn’t allowed her to please him. She wanted to prove that she could give as well as receive.

He captured her hand as it moved to his fly. “Did I say you could do that, Ruffles?”

“No, Sir.” She bit her lip. “Please let me.”

“Why? Why should I give you the privilege of touching my cock?”

“I want to please you.” She tried moving again, but he dug his fingers into her buttocks, making her hiss.

“Would that make you happy?” His gaze caressed her. Mia caught her breath. He cared about her happiness. She felt shaky again, knowing she was wading into dangerous waters.

“Yes.” She had no doubt whatsoever. At this moment, her happiness depended upon pleasing him. That was all she wanted. There was no ulterior motive.

He released her hand. “All right, Ruffles. Make yourself happy.”

She unbuttoned his fly, stopped, and tugged at his shirt. “Take this off, Sir?”

He sat up and pulled the shirt over his head with her assistance. “Now you,” he said, unbuttoning her blouse and divesting her of the bra. Leaving her nude.

She wriggled a bit farther down his body, straddled his thighs, and unzipped his jeans. No need to ask the ultimate question—
boxers or briefs?
—because there was nothing at all between the denim and his hot, eager cock. Already hard, it grew even harder and larger as she trailed her fingers down the shaft. Mia swirled her finger around the head, smoothing a bead of precum into his silky flesh.

She wanted to get both hands in there, massage his balls while she held his cock, but there wasn’t enough room. She raised herself to her knees and tugged at his jeans. Chess lifted his ass to let her pull them lower on his thighs. With a sigh, Mia sank down on his legs, inhaling the musky scent of his arousal.

She took her time fisting his cock, enjoying the way his smooth skin moved fluidly over his steely hardness. With her other hand she caressed his sac, gently rolling his balls until they grew tight and drew up close to his body.

Chess grasped her hand. “Enough. I don’t want to go off too soon.”

The thread of need in his raspy voice pleased Mia, and her lips curved in a little smile of satisfaction. He was enjoying this. Though she was the submissive, tormenting him like this made her the powerful one.

She leaned forward and kissed the middle of his hairy chest. She kissed his left nipple. Then she nipped it.

“Umph!” He lightly smacked her ass, then rubbed it. “Bad girl.”

Mia smiled. She enjoyed being bad.

Let’s see if I can be worse still.

She draped her arm over the edge of the sofa and lifted the carton of vanilla ice cream, now melted. Little by little she drizzled the creamy liquid onto him in her best impression of Jackson Pollock. Chess’s torso became her canvas, the spoon her paintbrush. The “paint” adorned his chest in aimless swirls and squiggles.

Mia rested on her haunches to admire her artwork. Chess gazed at her, his eyes glittering, heavy-lidded. His lips were full and rosy, as though he’d been kissed. Lust shot through Mia like an arrow heading straight to her pussy. She wanted to kiss those lips, lick them, bite them.

But he hadn’t invited her to. So she would simply content herself with the rest of him.

She leaned in to lick away the trail of melted ice cream, her tongue lapping, tickling, and teasing all the way. She tasted the slightly soapy, salty tang of his skin along with the sweet vanilla flavor. She felt the smoothness of his flesh and the roughness of his light brown chest hair.

Once she licked his chest clean, Mia dripped some ice cream down his stomach. Again she trailed her lips along the path she created, pausing to suck out the little puddle that had collected in his belly button.

She grasped his cock again and took another look at his face. He lay still, his breathing measured, his features taut. She knew he was ceding control to her in this moment, letting her set the pace. It was his gift to her.

Mia took the spoon once more and dabbed a spot of ice cream on his cockhead, where a new bead of precum had appeared. She lowered her head to swirl the two flavors onto her tongue—salty and sweet. She took the entire head of his cock into her mouth, a juicy plum for her to suckle.

But she wanted to do so much more. She released him with a
pop
and licked along his shaft, delicately tracing the veins with the tip of her tongue and using the flat of her tongue for a broader stroke.

As his breath quickened, Mia opened her mouth to accept as much of him in as she could. Breathing through her nose, she relaxed her throat muscles, taking him deeply. He hissed, and his body stiffened as he came, his cum pulsing into her mouth.

She swallowed and laid her head against his thigh as Chess sighed and combed his fingers through her hair. “Sit up,” he said. Once she obeyed, he brought the ice-cream carton to her lips and tilted the melted remainder into her mouth.

Before she could swallow all the sweet vanilla, some of it trickled down her chin. Chess licked away the overflow, his tongue quickly bathing her chin and mouth. And too soon his lips were gone. Disappointment flooded Mia. He’d cheated her. She wanted more of his tongue, his lips. She wanted his kiss.

“That was excellent, Ruffles,” he said.

His praise should have made her proud, but for some reason it felt like a slap in the face. Why? What had she expected?
I love you?

Maybe. Last night, they’d crossed a threshold. Or so she thought. Had she mistaken
Master
for
lover?
Or was Chess trying to step back emotionally by retreating to a simple Dom-sub relationship?

Her heart thumped sluggishly while Chess waited for a response.
Get it together, Mia.

She dipped her head so he couldn’t read the disappointment on her face. “Thank you, Sir.”

Mia blinked heavy-lidded eyes, slowly awakening. She and Chess lounged side by side on his couch. The room was dark, lit only by the black-and-white film playing on the television. She cuddled into the chenille throw that Chess had placed over her. “I fell asleep?”

Chess touched her arm. “Mm-hmm. Poor thing, you were exhausted.”

“I guess.” The day at the work and the evening’s fun and games had tuckered her out. She smothered a yawn. “Sorry.”

Bailey was tired too, snoozing next to the couch. “What time is it?” Mia asked.

“Not quite nine thirty.”

“Oh.” How embarrassing to conk out so early. “What are you watching?”

“Just an old movie.”

Feeling cozy by his side, her brain still a bit muzzy, she snuggled against him. Peering again at the television, she recognized the movie at once. “Oh,
Laura
.”

“You’ve seen it?” he asked.

“Lots of times,” Mia answered. “But I love it.”

As they watched the rest of the film silently, Chess draped his arm around Mia’s side, pulling her closer. She melted into him, his encompassing warmth filling her. When the film ended—the mystery solved, the murderer exposed, and the final words “Good-bye, my love” spoken—Chess and Mia remained pressed against each other in silence.

At last he sighed, shaking his head. “It’ll never last.”

The romantic film had left Mia in a fog of bliss. It took her moment to emerge. “What do you mean?”

“Laura and the detective. They’ll never make it. She should’ve stuck with the other guy.”

“Laura and Mark? Of course they’ll make it. They’re in love.” Mia refused to have her bubble popped by a cynical wet blanket.

“He fell in love with her portrait. He only loves what he imagines her to be. And she fell for the big handsome cop. But it won’t last in the long run. They’ll get married, and he’ll expect her to quit her fancy job and leave her ritzy apartment. Did you see that place? You think she’ll be happy living in a dumpy flat with a bunch of kids trying to survive on a cop’s salary?” Chess gave a snort of disgust. “No way.”

“It’s not about money.”

“Trust me, it’s always about money. She’d have been better off with what’s-his-name. Waldo. He’d have kept her in style.”

Mia wouldn’t give up without a fight. “But she didn’t
love
Waldo.”

He looked at her, opened his mouth as though to give her an argument, then just smiled. “You’re a real romantic, aren’t you?”

Funny. Mia had never thought of herself that way. “Maybe I am. At least when it comes to movies.”

“And not real life?” he asked gently.

She thought of her parents’ marriage. As unhappy as it had been, Mia hadn’t given up hope on romantic love. “I suppose I believe in the
possibility
of love.”