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"I'm sorry, Mac. That's not the safe word. You'd die of thirst, remember? But you don't have to die of thirst. Just ask for water."
In a movement so quick she couldn't follow it, he dipped his head and fastened his teeth on her throat. "Why waste it, sugar?" he muttered around his grip. "It could be jetting into you, or I could be attending to your pleasure, eating out your pretty cunt."
His jaw had the strength of a pit bull in truth, and Violet felt a moment of panic when she could not immediately jerk back.
Making her decision, she hoped it wouldn't bring security into the room. She swung her head and smacked it against his cheekbone. He let her go with an oath and she tried to focus, because she had hit one of the harder bits of his head with the softer ones of hers. Barring that, she'd been forced to put some power behind it. She was proud that her hand did not pause in its motion, working him even more intently. Despite the pain she knew she'd caused him, his body was responding to her demand, focusing on the pleasurable goal happening below his waist.
He tried to twist away, but with his shoulders raked up, he was limited in how fast he could move, and she stayed easily with him, sensing victory in her hand.
"You'll come for me now, Mackenzie. Spurt yourself into my fingers like a teenager unable to control his hard-on. I can feel it coming. Let go."
She pulled a kerchief from the top of her stocking, just under the lace top, and hooded him with it as his body began to buck. His seed thickened the vein beneath her fingertips. As a warm trickle of blood slid down her neck where he had bitten her, her own reaction wet her thighs.
His body lunged forward, the ring bolts clanging harshly against the pull of the tethers. He snarled, his semen shooting forth into the doubled square of cloth. Some of it jetted past the cover, dampening her wrist, and the potent, erotic smell spurred her desire. Violet couldn't take her attention from his face, watching the battle of a powerful man against his own body, against the emotional vulnerability she had pressed on and forced from him through the uncontrolled physical release.
The orgasm was fast and intense, and left him shuddering, the wide chest expanding to take in air. "Whoa, there," Violet leaned her body into his to give him some support. He was double her weight in muscle, but the leaning worked, and gave her the excuse to hold him in her arms. She liked the way he felt there, and caressed the line of his back just above his waist, the firm, damp skin. She gave herself a moment, because she liked it so much, then she made herself do what she had to do.
She released him abruptly. She folded the kerchief over and dropped it on the chair seat. Moving behind him, she loosened one wrist cuff enough that he could free himself. "We're done," she said.
"What?" he straightened.
"You can get yourself loose from there."
"But, Violet, what--"
She stopped him with a level look. "You look me up when you want a Mistress, Mac. Instead of someone to jerk you off, or someone you can jerk around. I'm not interested."
"What the hell game are you playing?" he said, his brows drawing over his eyes in a way she was certain would intimidate the hell out of most people. She merely lifted a brow.
"I'd ask the same of you, if I cared. You're good, Mackenzie. You're very, very good. You'd make almost any Mistress within these walls think you're playing the game the way it should be played. A little rebelliousness mixed with the charm, the subservience. If I'd wanted a trained pony, I'd have gone to the circus."
"I don't know what you're talking about."
"Of course you don't." She turned away, picked up her boots and the kerchief. One step to the door. Two steps. Three. Brisk, no dragging, her intention obvious.
"Wait." She stopped at the door, but did not turn. She just waited.
"Don't leave. Tell me what I'm doing wrong."
She closed her eyes to compose herself, to conceal the quick surge of triumph and lust that the rough, angry confusion in his voice roused in her. There was more to him than met the eye, as she had suspected.
Rotating on her heel, she faced him, sweeping his delectable body with an expression that did not reveal a trace of how she felt looking at him standing there, the jeans and underwear shoved down to his thighs, his chest bare, the wrists still held in restraints. "That's part of what you're doing wrong. You're so worried about right and wrong. You're trying to control the situation, Mackenzie. Who controls this situation?"
"You."
She laughed. "You're saying what I want to hear, not what you believe. You, what?"
"You, Mistress."
She took a step forward.
"Let me tell you what I expect, Mackenzie. I'm not a dabbler. I'm not a casual one-night trawler. I'm looking for a solid bond, a total commitment. I don't expect to find it in every man I bring to these rooms. In fact, I don't expect to find it in most of them, but I choose men interested in finding out. Once I find it, I don't expect to take it outside this club right away, but it's what I intend when I do. I want to be some lucky man's Mistress, and you're just wasting my time if you're going to hide." She stepped back up to him, until that large body was just over her again, the fury and desire in his eyes cloaking her roused body in heat. "I want to flay off every inch of your shields, your emotional skin, so I see and know everything you are, every part you hide from the rest of the world. I'm fully capable of it."
"I don't know...if I can let you. Get that close."
A soft sigh broke free, and now she did soften, cupping her hand under his jaw with gentle fingers. "Bingo. That's who I'm looking for. The man who tells me what's happening in his head, what I'm doing to him. Who trusts me, or is at least willing to try. The man who can completely let go to pure sensation and feeling. That's it, Mackenzie. That's what I want. You want to run from that, you can. Just don't waste my time with your act if you're just here for the turn-on."
"I've got to think about it."
