AllFreeNovel
Share Us
The rage swelled up, and the hurt, and he did manage to jerk from her grasp, causing her nails to slice across his skin. "No," he snarled, struggling so she saw red lines of welts just below the cuff lines on his wrists, proof of his strength. He could not get free, but he could destroy himself trying. "No, no, no!"
Lauren jumped back as one of the links popped on the manacle. Fortunately there were three holding it to the wood. His nostrils flared at her, his gaze flashing victory at her retreat.
Lauren's eyes narrowed. She stepped back up to him. Her hands could be as gentle as a mother's when she so chose, but she wasted none of that softness now. With brutal efficiency, she reached around Josh, jerked open the tongue of the belt to the cock harness, freeing it from his waist. She pulled the ass strap back between his legs and stripped off the full rig, the force of the jerk and the straps pinching the tender skin.
She stepped back, deliberately brought the harness to her lips. The tip of her tongue touched the strap that had been closest to the head of his cock, and she tasted the salty substance that had wet the area there. She tasted it, as delicately as she might sample a hors d'oeuvres at a cocktail party. Her hand with the whip dropped, her fingers curling into the dress. She eased the tight, clinging fabric up, up her hip until her shaved pussy was exposed, just the bottom point of it.
He watched her, fury, fear and lust warring in his gaze, tearing him apart within and without.
Her own insides were being tormented by his struggle. A good Mistress watched the body language, the shift of the eyes, the light sheen of nervous sweat, the state of the cock, to determine what the sub wanted, what would bring them the most pleasure. In so many ways, it was the Dom serving the sub's needs. If the Dom lost sight of that, she took the risk of moving into megalomania, and imposing what she thought was best for the sub. How could she not doubt herself at a moment like this? Lauren was sure even the unflappable Marcus was having second thoughts about what had started under the guise of a playful card game.
When it boiled down to it, she had to go with her instinct, and her feelings. And she wanted Josh.
Wanted him, heart, body and soul, and to do that, she had to bring him to her honestly.
She let the harness drop and faced him, her crop held to one side, the whip to the other, her breasts jutting and proud, her chin lifted. Challenge and denial were in every angle of her posture.
"Marcus, let him go. "
The man, a somewhat dumbfounded witness to the charged tableau before him, jerked as if someone had just pulled his strings and reminded him he was part of the play. "What?"
"You heard me. Let him go. " Her eyes met Josh's furious ones, flashing with equal parts venom and Viking lust. "Come after me, Josh. You want to prove me wrong? Prove you'll take what you want, that you like hurting women, like watching them be raped. Big pussy. "
"Lauren - "
"Do it!" she cut Marcus off. As the man pressed his lips together, but moved to comply, she took several steps back, not in retreat, but in preparation, her hip cocked, eyes never leaving Josh's. The lion tamer waiting for the lion to bound into the ring.
He did not disappoint. As Marcus freed the last arm cuff, the art dealer tilted his head, started to murmur something. Josh's attention never wavered from Lauren. He jerked at the manacle the moment Marcus slid the catch from the strap, and yanked his hand all the way free. Josh shoved Marcus aside, sprang off the platform and came at her, his cock hard and ready, his eyes flaming with dangerous intent.
The whip snaked around his thigh, coiled. She jerked, loosing it, and spun him off balance. He recovered fast, faster than she expected, dodging her next strike, but she feinted left and snapped the weapon with a turn of her wrist. She made contact, along that beautifully sectioned abdomen, and raised a bloody welt. She had been taught how to inflict all levels of pain with the whip, the discomfort intended as a stimulus to pleasure. This time she went for pain, to add fuel to his rage.
He was furious, as angry as she had ever seen a man before. To see a young, powerful male in that state was not only impressive, but terrifying, especially since she had made sure all that rage was centered on herself. She watched his eyes calculate his next move and knew he would take her down with it. She wasn't that fast in these heels, or that strong.
She lashed out again, and he took the sting of the braided rope on the forearm, twisting his wrist so he coiled his flesh in its grasp and gripped the weapon in his fingers. He ripped it out of her hand in one brutal and effortless move.
She didn't back away, but watched him charge forward. There was no time for doubt now. She dropped her arm to her side, and let the lion spring upon her.
They hit the stone floor, with her under his hard, roused body. His knee jammed between her knees, spreading her to insinuate his body between her legs. The dress rode up to her waist, as her thighs were pushed up to accommodate his muscular torso. His cock teased at her wet folds, the blunt head a breath away from the decision, as unbearable a taunt to his virility as anything her words could provoke. She smelled the musky oill on his body, felt its slippery touch along the insides of her open legs.
She did not struggle, or move. Lauren could not hide the pulse leaping at her throat, the simple animal response of bringing the full force of an enraged creature upon her, but she kept her gaze on his, tried to remember how to breathe.
He was breathing hard enough for both of them, a harsh, rhythmic sound in his throat.
The gray eyes were concentrated slits, his jaw flexing with the emotions he wanted to exercise upon her. His bruising grip left her wrist and his hand came up into the field of her vision. His fingers closed on her throat. They were trembling.
It was a silent, tense moment. If she closed her eyes, the heat coming off that sleek male body and the need of his cock pressing into her could become the searing, greedy touch of hellfire.
She didn't close her eyes, but she did replay the memory of the last few moments in her mind. Then she slowed it down, replayed it again. Any fear or doubt she had left her.
Being thrown down on cold stone tile should have knocked the wind out of her, bruised her skin, jarred the bone structure beneath it. Any or all of those things would have happened if, when they had fallen to the ground, he had not caught her about the back with one arm, slowed their descent so he had taken the brunt of their impact on his forearm. As a result she did not have a bruise or mark on her.
They hadn't missed the exit, though it had been a near thing.
She cocked her head, her brow raised in silent question. His arms continued to hold her, his body quivering with his need, but even so close to her moist gates that her wetness was pooling against his heat, he would not push through that barrier, though the desire to do so would have been unbearable to resist to almost anyone.
Slowly, her lips curved in a knowing, gentle smile.
"You see?" she said softly, raising her own hand now to touch his rigid, suffering face. "You can't do it, Josh. You can't take me against my will. Not just because you're a submissive at heart. Not just because I didn't tell you that you could. You're a decent human being. You're a good man, who got his mind fucked over by a woman who has problems. Just like Jonathan did with me. "
