With This Collar (11 page)

She felt his cock throb as he ejaculated. He thrust a few more times, emptying his balls.

Against his shoulder, she smiled. She’d been less inhibited with him than with any man she’d been with. And the experience had been better than any other.

He continued to stroke her back, and she held him. Eventually she became aware of the perspiration drying on her skin.

He took hold of her hair and eased her head back so that their gazes met.

“Thank you,” he said. “I’ve enjoyed scening with you. You’re a very sexy sub.”

Before she could protest, he placed a finger against her mouth.

“Yes, you are. Sexy and a submissive girl. Deny it all you want, never play again, but that won’t change facts.”

She shuddered, not because he was bossy, but because he was right.

He stood with her still wrapped around him, holding on. He placed her back in the chair and said, “Stay there.”

He crossed to the side of the room and she heard the sound of running water. Lethargic, she looked over at him. She had rarely had the experience of relaxing after sex and watching her lover. But this time, she did, and unashamedly.

She hadn’t really had the opportunity to look at his naked body. He was as honed from the back as what she’d seen from the front. His shoulders were impossibly wide, and his legs were big and muscular, his ass gorgeously sculpted. No doubt he’d fill out a pair of jeans.

She had a small pang of regret that their first time would also be their last.

He disposed of the condom. When he faced her, the first full-frontal view of him took her breath away.

His cock was still semi-hard. She remembered the salty, masculine taste of it as he’d filled her mouth while she was hanging over the horse. She shook her head to dislodge the vivid image. Each thrust had been a reminder of her helplessness. She’d been desperate to please him. She’d gratefully taken his shaft, although she usually avoided sucking a man’s penis. Yes, he’d been relentless in his demands, but the rawness of them had made something unknown flare to life inside her.

He brought her a washcloth.

A bit embarrassed, she reached for it. He shook his head.

“Stand up and spread your legs.”

She already knew better than to argue. The water was warm, and he gently cleaned her. A part of her wanted the floor to swallow her. But a bigger, more pervasive part of her liked being cared for. The entire experience with him had been a dichotomy, from scalding pain to delicious tenderness.

“You did well,” he told her, removing the cloth. He wadded it and tossed it back towards the sink.

“I…uhm… I’m at a bit of a loss as to what to do now. Do I say thank you and shake your hand?”

“I’ll walk you to your car.”

“I think I can find my own way, but thanks.”

“Don’t try my patience,” he warned.

She swallowed. His eyes were narrowed and his jaw was set. He might be totally naked, but he commanded the space effortlessly.

He dressed. As he fastened his belt, she wildly wondered what it might feel like on her skin. Shaking her head, she mentally urged him to hurry.

“Problem?”

“No. No, Sir.”

She was anxious to get away…before she was tempted to stay.

“Would you hand me the tawse?”

She could refuse. With him being dressed, she was aware of a subtle power shift. Being nude while he towered above fully clothed unnerved her.

God help her, but the feeling thrilled her as much as it terrified her.

She crossed to the horse and picked up the sturdy strip of leather.

“Keep your gaze focused on the floor as you bring it to me,” he said quietly.

Julia knew she could use a safe word and put a stop to his commands, but she followed the order regardless.

When she reached him, she extended her hand.

“Kneel and offer it to me.”

She wouldn’t really do that, would she? His roughened tone hypnotised her, and she couldn’t refuse. Kneeling, she did as he had said.

“On your palms.”

She extended her hands, palms up, the tawse lying lengthwise across them.

He didn’t move or speak.

She was aware of the sturdiness of the leather. As she continued to wait, she recalled its heat as it had caressed her skin. It had burnt, but that sensation had paled next to the ache it had caused inside.

“Thank you.”

He took the implement, and she bit her lower lip to prevent herself from asking him to use it on her again.

“You may stand.”

Only after he’d clipped the tawse to his belt loop did she rise.

“Come here, Julia.”

Compelled, she did. He cradled her and rubbed her skin. It seemed odd that he would be the one to comfort her after that experience, but she didn’t question it. She just stayed there for a while, inhaling his fresh woods scent, relying on his formidable masculine strength.

She was strangely reluctant to step away, but eventually she did.

“Let’s get your clothes,” he said. He paused long enough to don his leather blazer.

The sight of him, dashing in the western-looking gear, was enough to make her mouth dry. She could hardly believe she’d spent the evening with him, feeling his hand on her ass, experiencing shattering orgasms, being thoroughly dominated.

When he’d closed the door behind them earlier, her heart had missed a beat. Being in the spanking room had been surreal. But now, rejoining the party felt odd.

As she followed him down the hall, she heard the sounds of whips, of subs crying out, of sternly delivered commands, and soothing words.

It still startled her a bit, but now she understood better.

In the main area, servers continued to offer drinks. Doms chatted. Some subs knelt. One was leashed. A Dom patted a sub’s head while he conversed with the bartender.

Nothing had changed.

Except her.

“Stay here,” Marcus told her. He pointed to a spot on the floor.

Shocking herself, she didn’t argue. She didn’t move, but she kept her gaze on him. She jumped a little when someone touched her elbow.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.”

She turned and met the deeply dark brown eyes of Gregorio. Up close, he was more handsome than she’d imagined. His skin was sun-darkened. He had on a black T-shirt with the arms shorn off. His trousers looked as if they’d been tailored. No doubt he could appear in the videos filmed at the house.

“It’s your first time here,” he said. “And, according to Master Damien, your first experience.”

Marcus had told her Gregorio was a switch but, to her, he had the same air of authority as the other Doms she’d met. “Yes,” she said. “Sir.”

“I watched for a few minutes.”

“Seriously?” She hadn’t been aware of anything or anyone other than Marcus.

“While you were tied to the horse. You appeared serene.”

She would have never used that word, but in a strange way it fitted.

“How was your experience?”

“Mind-blowing,” she admitted. She pushed the loose hair back from her face. “At first it was too much, and it stung like hell. I’m not quite sure what to think.”

“That’s understandable and not at all unexpected. Do you have anyone you can speak with?”

“Lana. After she’s back from Mexico.”

“I’ll have Master Marcus give you my contact information. If you need someone to talk to, feel free to get in touch.”

“Thank you.” She didn’t tell him that she had no intention of giving Master Marcus her contact information. She would sort through this on her own.

Marcus returned with a bottle of water from the bar.

The two men greeted each other. Master Marcus placed a hand on her shoulder. She wasn’t sure if the touch was meant to be reassuring or possessive.

“Drink this,” he told her, loosening the cap.

He didn’t check to see if she would obey. He simply assumed she would.

The two men talked, and neither of them addressed her. She sipped the water, more because it gave her something to do than anything else.

Under normal circumstances, being ignored might offend her. Right now, it didn’t. In fact, the sooner she could find her clothes and go home, the better.

“Please give Julia my contact information in case she needs someone to talk to,” Gregorio said to Marcus.

Marcus nodded.

After wishing them both a good evening, Gregorio excused himself.

“Ready?” Marcus asked.

“Yes.”

He headed upstairs, and she followed at a respectful distance, the water bottle clutched in her hand. A few couples were chatting, but the sunroom was empty.

“I can see myself out,” she said, feeling nervous now that they were alone again. Her clothes were where he’d left them.

“I’m sure you can.” He made no move to leave.

Resigned, she picked up her plain cotton underwear. She vowed to take a trip to the lingerie store soon. She pulled up her stockings, telling herself she shouldn’t feel self-conscious. He’d seen every part of her.

He watched wordlessly as she fastened the hooks on her bra then wiggled into her skirt. Her fingers shook as she tried to slide the buttons of her blouse through the damnably small holes. It pissed her off that he noticed and moved in to brush her fingers aside.

“Let me.”

Rather than starting at the top, he fastened the bottom one first. She felt his fingers on her skin, and tiny tremors shook her. “Thank you.” Honestly she’d never been this cared for before. Despite her feminist proclivities, she knew she could get accustomed to his treatment.

He adjusted her collar before stepping back.

After straightening her shoulders, she slipped into her shoes. She told herself that she was once again in control, but that was a lie. Having this man close to her undid her completely.

She located her belongings in the foyer.

“Keys?” he asked, extending his hand.

“I—”

“Don’t argue,” he told her.

She fished out her keys from the cavernous depths of her purse.

“Which car is yours?” he asked, opening the big oak doors.

“It’s that one.” She pointed to the street. “It’s that small, black SUV.”

“I’ll bring it around.”

“Marcus—”

“Master Marcus,” he corrected. Green fire sizzled in his eyes. “Question my authority one more time and I’ll have you back over that spanking horse so fast you won’t remember your name. Clear?”

“Yes, Sir.” The idea of getting into a warm car that had the windshield cleared would be pure luxury. “Thank you.”

“I wondered when you’d remember to use some manners.”

Without another word, he went outside, braving the cold. He levelled a look at her. She remained silent.

She didn’t relish the drive back over Berthoud Pass. The smattering of snow during the ceremony had been beautiful, but it could make the roads treacherous.

While she waited, she put on her coat and leather driving gloves.

A few minutes later, he re-entered the house. Snowflakes clung to his hair, and his hands were red. Her heart melted. He’d gone outside
for her
.

“Your chariot awaits, madam.”

“Thank you. You didn’t need to, but—”

“You’re welcome.”

She closed her mouth.

He took hold of her elbow, ensuring she didn’t slip as he guided her to the car. Like a gentleman, he held open the driver’s door and handed her inside.

“Contact me any time,” he said, offering her a business card. “My cellphone number is on there, and so is Gregorio’s.”

She dropped it on the console beside her.

The air hung silent and still. He was apparently waiting for her to reciprocate. “I appreciate your bringing the car around.” Heat whispered from the vents, and ice was already melted from the back window. But she knew the cold had to be biting his ears and fingers. “You’d better get back inside,” she said. Her smile felt as brittle as the icicles hanging from the nearby ponderosa pine trees.

He closed the door and gave her a mock salute. As she drove away, she resisted the impulse to look at him in the rear-view mirror.

* * * *

A nice guy.
She was determined, at all costs, to not only meet, but actually date a nice guy. After the experience with Jason, she had promised herself she wouldn’t never again spend time with any man who was demanding, dictatorial, or domineering.

So why couldn’t she get thoughts of Marcus—Master Marcus—from her mind?

She sighed.

The roads had been surprisingly easy to navigate. Ploughs had cleared them, and there was no ice despite the fact that snow continued to lazily drift down. Still, she’d gripped the steering wheel tightly for the entire two-hour drive back to her Denver apartment.

At home, she dropped her purse and keys on a small table just inside the door. She fingered Marcus’ business card for a moment. His name was there, along with the name of a company, Silver Eagle Constructors. Did he own the business? Or was it simply a place he worked? The fact that he did physical labour explained a lot about the bronze colour of his skin and the muscles that had rippled his forearms and biceps.

She stared at the card for a full minute before dropping it in the wicker trash can she kept handy to dispose of unwanted mail.

She was d-o-n-e with overwhelming men who thought they knew best.

After hanging up her coat and tucking her gloves in the pockets, she went into the bedroom. She opted for a pair of sleep pants and a long-sleeved T-shirt rather than a sleeveless nightie.

Sleep eluded her. She tossed and turned for several hours. In frustration, she pulled up the covers, shoved them down, punched the pillow in several different shapes, but, no matter what she did, she couldn’t banish the vivid snapshots of Marcus that were flashing through her mind. She saw him in his leather blazer, then wearing his shirt with the sleeves rolled up. And then, heavens, completely naked.

For a moment, she wondered if his cock really was as big as she remembered.

Finally, exhausted from the battle, she climbed back out of bed. The scent of him lingered on her skin, a vivid reminder of the way he’d held her in his arms as she’d snuggled against his chest. She needed a shower. Or, better yet, a hot bath. Her legs hadn’t been spread that far apart since high school gym class. Her calves felt as if she’d run a marathon, and even her arm muscles ached.