AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He sat up, linked his hands over his knees, and her sharp eyes noted the defensive posture. "Just some finger stuff or plugs, like you did."
"No Mistress ever--"
"Most found that they were wasting a perfectly good cock they could use for their own pleasure."
Defensive, definitely. Almost surly. She saw him bite it back, try for a smile to smooth it over.
"You're a submissive afraid to let go of control, afraid to have your most vulnerable areas investigated." She studied him, let him squirm a bit under her intent regard. "You tell a Mistress she can do anything to you, no safe words, no boundaries, but then you con her into doing only what keeps to the edges of your comfort zone."
"I prefer the word 'charm'."
"I call it like I see it." She took a bite of bread. "And you should know better than to argue with me about it at this point. Tell me why you're a sub, Mac. Why not be a Dominant? You obviously bleed alpha. What's driving you to submit to a woman sexually? Open up."
He opened his mouth, took the offering from her fingers, lightly nibbling one fingertip, then caught it in his mouth between his teeth. He did not let go when she exerted gentle pressure, and she narrowed her eyes as his hand lifted, circled her wrist, held her captive to run his tongue along her sensitive knuckles, nibble on the pads of her fingers. Instead of resisting, she relaxed, waited until she had his attention to lift a disinterested brow.
"You know, horses sometimes do this," she said. "Catch your hand in their mouth when they're playing, not realizing they can hurt you. Or at least people say that. But I think horses know exactly how strong and tough they are." She took her free hand, ran it along his jaw line. "I think they know they can take your fing
ers off, and they're reminding you that, no matter how often you ride them, what saddle or bridle you put on them, they're stronger, and can take you down in a moment." She slid her touch under his chin, squeezed his jaw with her fingers, exerting the bite of her nails until he got the message and eased up. "But those beautiful, magnificent creatures bow to our will. They serve us only if they trust that they're better off with the reins in our hands." She cocked her head. "Only if they believe without a doubt we're worthy of being in control."
He let go with his mouth and she removed her fingers, but he did not relinquish her wrist.
"I'd like to make love to you. Here. Now."
She swallowed, closed her fingers into a fist. "I don't think I'm ready to let you do that, Mackenzie. You don't trust me enough."
He shook his head. "It's to show you can trust me."
For it to be as good as it should be, it had to be a two way street. He didn't understand that. Still, the idea of lying in the late afternoon sun, a touch of fall nipping in the air, with him inside of her... it was a difficult image to resist, particularly with his fingers playing over hers, his silver eyes marking every response of her body.
She could imagine how it would look to a hawk flying overhead, the two of them entwined, Mac's thighs and buttocks tightening and releasing as he slid in, drew out, the slow strokes she would demand, that would drive her to the edge, fulfilled. His smell, his arms wrapped around her, his lips against her neck.
He was closer now, his mouth only a breath from hers, his hand sliding to her waist, drawing her closer, drawing her down against him. She cupped a hand to the side of his head, met his tongue just inside his lips, then he drew her in, opening his mouth to devour hers, his arms closing around her, holding her secure, letting out a groan of pure pleasure she felt rumble in his chest, pressed against her aching breasts.
His hand closed over one ass cheek in tight denim, and used the hold to shift her over so she was lying on him, one of his thighs pressed up between her legs, sending a ripple of erotic pleasure shivering up through her lower stomach and chest, tightening her nipples against his hard body. His hand kneaded her ass, stroked the crease of thigh, two fingers sliding down the curve of her buttocks, in between her legs, curling under the intersection of stitched seams so the heel of his hand was against the base of her ass, his fingers hooked over her clit at the crotch of the jeans, pressing on her, kneading her like a cat, making her shudder, her breath coming faster.
"Let me put my cock in you," he murmured, kissing her neck, nuzzling, biting.
Her grip on reality was slipping away. He was entirely too potent, his hands sure, knowledgeable, knowing exactly how to drive sense and control away, coaxing her into compliance. His arm pressed against her buttocks, and she felt the metal of the onyx and silver wrist cuffs he had worn.
With an oath, she slapped her hands against his chest and shoved off him, rolling to her side, coming to her feet in a crouch, putting a good four feet between them.
"This is bullshit," she said, really angry with him.
He sat up. His color was high and his erection tremendous, distending the front of his jeans and making her wish she wasn't so sure of what she knew, or that she could forget it and just take what he was offering to relieve the throbbing want in her pussy.
"What's bullshit?" He asked. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"Don't take that tone with me," she warned. "You won't charm or con me, Mackenzie. I told you. When we make love, it will be because that's what you want and I want, not because you want a change in conversational topic, and you figure a good fuck will distract me. I'm not the distractable type, not when it's important. I asked you why you play the sub side of the fence. I expect an answer."
And this was important. Maybe too important. She wanted to slap him for making things this difficult, but his recalcitrance also turned her on, there was no denying that. He looked very appealing to her, sitting there tensely on one elbow.
"I don't know," he said at last, irritation in his tone. "I...why is it women want to analyze? I just...do. When I'm with a woman, it's the way I feel. You're not complaining, are you? So why does it matter?"
Because you matter. Because the answer to the question is important to you, but you're afraid to answer it.
"I want you to stand up and unfasten your jeans, take them down with your underwear to your knees. I want to see you. And take those damn wrist cuffs off. Some other woman gave them to you, so I don't want to see them. You're mine, Mackenzie, and I don't share you, not even with memories."
He hadn't expected that, or the gear change, she could tell. She watched him process it, glance around them, and she softened, leaned forward, laid a hand on his jaw. "We'll hear a car if someone pulls up. We'll have a few minutes before we see them. That's why I came down here. You can trust me to protect your privacy, Mac."
