“Let me show you why swings are fun, Li’ll sub,” Marcus said softly. His cock slid out as he pushed on the chains, and then he yanked the tire back, slamming her pussy back onto him like a pile driver. Smiling, he played the swing, back and forth, turning it slightly so his shaft pressed against one side of her vagina and the other.
So much, too much, and yet she couldn’t make it over the top. Everything coiled so tightly inside her that each exquisitely wonderful movement almost hurt.
Lovely, Marcus thought, rocking the swing enough to keep her right on top of the pinnacle. Every muscle in her body was tight, her hands clamped around the chains. And her little moans had turned to a continuous soft song of need.
He knew the feeling. His balls felt as if they were being squeezed by some ball-crushing domme as he forced his climax back. He slowed the rocking and changed his grip to the strap over her hips so one hand could keep the swing going. So should he play with her clit to send her over?
No, he wanted to take her hard, have her come hard, shock her a little. Since he’d started with erotic pain, it would be fitting to finish with it. He got a good grip on the strap crossing her hips and let the tire rock away. As his cock slid partway out of her pussy, he slapped her ass, then yanked the swing back to impale her. To engulf his rigid shaft in her hot, wet silk. Again and again. The way she clenched with each slap almost destroyed his own control.
Faster. More. A handful of strong swats and her voice rose. Her stomach muscles under his knuckles turned to rock. Another swat and yank and she broke into a violent climax. Her shrieks corresponded to the forceful clenches of her vagina around his cock like a giant sucking device. Hearing her come, feeling her pussy try to milk him, he couldn’t fight it any longer. He released his control and gave the tire a series of short, hard yanks. His climax roared through him, ripping from his balls into his cock and out in hot blasts of pure sensation.
With a groan, he rocked the swing gently, giving her a last few spasms—and when the hot walls of her vagina rippled around him, he wanted to take her all over again.
He ran his hands over her body, pleased at the soft, moist curves. The fragrance of her light feminine sweat mingled with the heavier scent of sex. He leaned forward, letting his weight down on her. Her soft breasts flattened against his chest, and he could feel her heart hammering. She blinked up at him, looking dazed, and he took her mouth. Even dazed, she kissed with the same wholehearted focus and response that she brought to having sex. That she used when talking to someone, he realized.
He could have happily stayed there all night with the swing rocking slightly and his little sub under him. Gabi, not Gabrielle. Fitting. She was as sweet and spicy as he’d thought…and worried she’d be.
She’s not yours, Atherton. Regretfully he kissed her one last time. He pulled out slowly and walked over to dispose of the condom.
When he undid the straps, she lay limp, eyes closed, still not recovered. Not surprising—she’d had a rough night, emotionally and physically, then come like a dream. He lifted her from the swing and settled onto the ground, leaning on a tree and nestling her against him. Amazing how nicely she fit into his arms. He rested his chin on the top of her head, enjoying the scent of her fresh, spicy shampoo and the lemon fragrance from the oil. Her flushed cheek lay against his shoulder, and her breath, still fast, puffed warmly against his neck.
He’d actually planned to take her slower, drive her a little mad first, but her spirited fight had left him with a primitive urge to conquer and mark her in the most basic of ways. As a lawyer, he liked to believe in civilization; as a dom, he’d learned how easily the animal instincts could surface.
He nuzzled the tiny damp curls at her hairline—sometimes those animal instincts were purely fun.
He’d barely gotten settled when three chimes broke through the night, stilling everyone to silence except a woman who climaxed in high yips. Laughter spilled through the gardens, and then the sounds of movement. “Wake up, sugar. We have to head in.”
“Mmmmh.” She rubbed her cheek on his chest and went still again.
He frowned. The energetic little sub wasn’t rebounding in her usual speedy fashion. Then again, how many times tonight had he terrified her, making her blank out? Although the desensitization was for her good, it would have an impact. He’d topped the night off with a chase, rough sex, bondage, and pain. No matter how much she’d enjoyed the capture game, it had undoubtedly shaken up her emotional equilibrium. No, even if she bounced back now, he wouldn’t—couldn’t—let her go home alone to experience whatever aftermath or nightmares might come at this point. “Gabi.”
“Mmmhmm.”
“You will be spending the night with me tonight, Gabrielle. You have the choice of where. My place, your place, or one of the upstairs private rooms.”
She stirred in his arms. “But—I need… I mustn’t…”
He saw the effort she made to think. “Do you trust me, Gabrielle?”
Her head dropped back onto his chest, her breathing slowing again. “Mmmhmm.”
Good enough.
* * *
At the front St. Andrew’s cross, Z held his cell phone to his ear and listened to the FBI agent rant about Gabrielle’s irresponsibility. With a huff of disgust, he snapped the phone shut and shoved it in his pocket. Idiot agent.
Turning, he took a moment to study Jessica. He’d restrained her on the cross only a few minutes before. Color good, breathing easily, her gaze on him. Very nice. It wouldn’t hurt her to wait on his pleasure. Especially since she knew she’d incurred his wrath for trying to interfere between a dom and sub…again. Little Miss Protect the Other Subs.
He turned to watch Marcus half carry Gabrielle out of the Shadowlands. Whatever had happened in the gardens had sent the brave little decoy into a place where she wasn’t safe to drive, and Marcus was taking her home with him.
Guilt weighed heavy on Zachary’s shoulders. He’d wanted to tell Marcus the truth for Gabrielle’s sake, but he’d given his word, and so Marcus had pushed her—as a dom should. He was undoubtedly picking up on the discrepancies in her behavior. He wouldn’t go easy on her, not once he realized she’d kept secrets from him.
Z frowned, wishing he knew the dom better. Friendly but reserved, Marcus was taking his time in becoming friends with the other Masters. Nonetheless, he was a fine dom with a profound sense of honor and protectiveness.
Yes, little Gabrielle would be safe with him.
However, he’d better give Galen and Vance a heads-up. Unlike the idiotic Rhodes, the two FBI agents in charge of the investigation were experienced and careful doms, and they’d understand what had happened to the trainee.
Zachary massaged his neck as he looked around the club. Less than half the members remained this late at night. Although he’d changed the music to Enigma’s quieter chants, his head still throbbed like an overstretched balloon. He’d spent the evening talking with the members, leaving himself open to every emotional nuance, trying to find a hint of a predator in his club. Now his brain felt as if it might explode. At this point, he couldn’t read anyone, no matter how close he got.
He couldn’t even tell what Jessica was thinking—but from her body language, she’d take a cane to him if he let her loose at this point. He’d gagged her again before strapping her to the cross. He shook his head at the fury in her eyes. Normally he found her impertinent attitude delightful; he had never wanted a meek submissive.
But with a kidnapper targeting rebellious subs, every time she smarted off, his anxiety rose another notch. The thought of someone hurting Jessica… His jaw tightened. The man would die. Painfully.
He’d tried to talk her into taking a vacation right now, without him, and she’d laughed at him.
But Jessica wasn’t the only sub in the club in danger. He could damn well at least remove one target.
He spotted Sally a minute later and motioned her over, then checked Jessica again. Arms and legs in an X position, nicely open and exposed, her lush breasts begging for use. She caught his eye, and despite the gag, her growl came through clearly. He snorted a laugh and stepped out of the scene area as Sally trotted up.
The vivacious trainee grinned at him. “Master Z, can I do something?”
Keeping an eye on Jessica, Zachary studied Sally. As mischievous as a basketful of kittens, the trainee was as sassy as she was sweet. She topped from the bottom whenever given a chance, which happened all too often. Although the Masters could control her and did scenes with her occasionally, she had both more experience and more intelligence than far too many of the other doms. Too clever and too stubborn for her own good. He’d begun to wonder if she’d ever meet the right dom. “I have a favor to ask of you, Sally.”
“Sure. What can I do?” She’d gone for her favorite schoolgirl costume in a tied-up white shirt and short plaid skirt. Her braids swung, and she bounced on her toes as if he’d offered her a candy instead of wanting her help.
“I want you out of Tampa for a couple of weeks.” Zachary held up his hand to keep her from speaking. “I can’t explain except to say you haven’t done anything wrong. Not in the least. I’m dealing with an internal club matter.”