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“No, I don’t. By the end of our time together, Nathan, you’re going to owe me everything. ”
Chapter Two
The landscape rocketed by, a blur of sand and sharp vegetation. The wind was a blessing on his face, as was the knowledge that the prison was getting farther and farther away. Freedom. His glance cut to the driver. Of a sort. But at what time in his life had he not had to play the angles? There wasn’t any such thing as true freedom, not in this crappy-assed world. The dangerous fantasy was believing there could be. A man could give in, delude himself into thinking he could find a substitute for freedom by chaining himself to someone else. He’d found something that gave him a taste of both, a way to be beyond everyone’s grasp when they thought he was captured. She’d be no different. He told himself he’d enjoy the game, particularly with this one. Like the taste of an ice-cold beer after years of nothing but tepid water.
He could be called crazy for even getting into her car. His last such relationship was what had landed him in prison. However, he’d had time to think it over from every angle and he knew what his mistake had been in that situation. He’d let his hatred of another male submissive, Mac Nighthorse, blind him to the dangers of the Mistress who had offered him the opportunity to even the score. Too late he’d learned that Nighthorse was a homicide detective and Jonathan’s Mistress of the moment had cleverly used him in a plan of attempted murder. He wouldn’t let his emotions make him stupid again. If he could get some cushy spa service and maybe a soft hotel bed for playing slave boy for a few hours, no skin off his back. His lips twisted. Unless this Mistress was into flogging.
It didn’t matter. His hard-on hadn’t eased up one bit and he ached for release. He hadn’t jacked himself off in prison, not even once. Something no other prisoner in that place could claim, he was sure. Even most of the guards. So there certainly wasn’t any harm in letting his fingers drift across the console onto her thigh. The frustratingly snug, impenetrable latex denied him the sense of the skin beneath.
She caught two of his fingers and wrenched them backward, sending searing pain through his palm and wrist. “Ow. Jesus…” The angle was perfect. He couldn’t pull away, couldn’t move in any direction without causing himself more agony. “Let go. ”
“Did I give you permission to touch me?”
Her voice was cool. She wasn’t even taking her eyes off the road and damn if that very aloofness wasn’t arousing him further. When she tightened her grip, he hissed.
“I don’t play cutesy with my slaves. They give me absolute obedience or they’re punished. Severely. ”
“This isn’t a dungeon, sweetheart. D/s is just a game. Can we get to where we’re going before you slip into playing—”
His voice climbed two octaves as she twisted her grip. He was sure he felt his bones begin to crack. If he brought his other hand across his body, he wasn’t so certain she wouldn’t snap one. “Jesus, let me go. ”
“This is not a game. It nev
er has been to you. It’s not to me. Ask for my forgiveness or you’ll have two fingers permanently curved backward to hit my sweet spot when I give you permission to put them into my pussy. Say it. ”
“My apologies, Mistress. I’m sorry. ”
Though he spat it out, apparently it was enough. She released him, as unflappable as she’d been before she’d tried to make his fingers bend a hundred and eighty degrees in the wrong direction. He rubbed his hand, eyed her profile. The hourglass design of her body in that corset, the curve of her hips, the way her buttocks pressed into the seat, even how she pushed down on the gas with the sole of the three-inch spike heel, made him both resent her and want her all the more. The dark waves of her hair whispered around her face as she drove, but now he could see that the mass of it was pinned on her head, making him wonder how long and thick it was, what it would look like spilled over her bare body. Closing his eyes, he turned his face away. It had been a mistake to get into the car.
“Let me set out the rules for you up front. You won’t charm me or play with my emotions,” she said. “I’m not interested in that. I want your pain, your suffering. I want your fear. ” When he glanced back at her warily, she was looking straight at him. “I’m the Goddess of the Old Testament, Jonathan. You’re not going to crawl into a crack in my psyche. You serve me, not the other way around. Everything about you is dependent upon your Mistress’s Will. ”
Then he felt her hand on his thigh, sliding over it to cup him. Without any conscious thought or command from his brain, his hips pushed up eagerly into her touch, the stroke and pinch of her fingertips.
“Nice,” she purred. “Take it out. I want to play with it while I drive. ” Her lips moved into a pout that caused his attention to fasten hungrily on her mouth. “They didn’t have this car in anything but automatic and I like to move a stick when I drive. ” Her brown eyes were like that of a she-wolf considering prey. “That was a command.
Or have you forgotten your body is your Mistress’s toy?” He found his hands moving to the button of his jeans, working it open and jerking the zipper down in the same motion.
“Take the jeans and underwear off. I want that fine ass bare against the seat. ” It wasn’t self-consciousness that gave him a brief hesitation. There was no one out here and he could always snatch up his clothes if needed. Having performed as a submissive countless times before, Nathan didn’t balk at modesty. He was concerned about the fact that his cock was so rigid with lust he might spew at the touch of his own hand. Regardless, he obeyed. The burn of the hot upholstery on his ass helped distract him. He took some small satisfaction in the flare of appreciation in her gaze as he revealed himself to her. She did feel something, which meant she could be made to feel more. Tossing his boots in the back, he left his clothes in a heap at his feet. Strategy vanished as she closed her hand over him, a firm, commanding grip tugging on him.
“Over here. ”
Her fingers caressed him in sensual torture as he gingerly slid his leg over the center console, avoiding the gearshift. When he placed his now bare foot in the narrow space beside her heel where she pressed down on the gas, his arm stretched around the back of her seat. With his fingers gripped in the cushioning, he could feel her whipping hair caress his fingertips, resting only an inch or so away from her shoulder. It was an awkward position for a tall man, but he didn’t care as she laid her forearm on his bare thigh and took hold of him again as if his cock were a manual stick in truth, fondling him as he braced his other leg in the passenger side. Keeping his ass firmly pressed back against the opening between the two seats, he hoped he wouldn’t lose control and jerk forward, knocking the car out of gear. They had climbed to ninety-five, the landscape a blur, the wind a roar she’d had to raise her voice over to issue the command. The whip of the wind on his bare lower body intertwined with her touch to twist the hard spear of want piercing his lower belly. It gave him a peculiar sense of sensual freedom, the desire to lay his head back, close his eyes and feel the wind rush over him as her touch took him soaring.
However, because the position put him above her, he had a throat-clogging view of her breasts in the corset, the full crescent shape of the globes of flesh molded by the fabric. The vibration of the Mercedes made them quiver. If he strained his eyes, the rise and fall of her breath almost gave him the hint of her nipples. He was straining, in more ways than one.
She took control of his reaction as if his cock were in fact connected to the transmission of the car, engine revving for her, eager to be put into drive. Her thumb caressed his broad head, collecting his pre-cum on the end of one of those glossy nails.
He had to look away or he’d explode. In contrast, she drove with the same calm demeanor, her hand touching his dick as casually and maddeningly as if she were merely entertaining herself with the feel of an inanimate gearshift beneath her palm, something for her free hand to do as she drove one-handed.
In that outfit, he couldn’t tell if her nipples were getting hard or her pussy wet, while his body was reacting almost violently to her indifferent use of him. He knew it was a Mistress’s right to use a slave in such a cavalier fashion, but it infuriated him, her impassive behavior.
Patience. He wanted to roar it to his subconscious, but it was more like a hoarse plea for attention. His fingers dug into the side of the seat as that thumb rocked back and forth over him, tracing the helmet shape of the head, curving under to follow the flare at the base and then… Oh, God, now she was on that vein on the underside that was throbbing, begging for some kind of consistent stroke or rhythm. He wanted to pump into her hand, jerk himself off viciously, but he couldn’t move without disrupting the vehicle. The automatic gearshift was a mere inch from his balls, almost pressing into them. Her nails were touching the top of it as she caressed him.
Plus, she hadn’t given him permission to move. Jonathan Powell had always been the perfect sub, everything a Mistress could ask him to be. That was key. He had to remember that now, be what she expected him to be so he could get the upper hand. It would have been easier if he’d had time to fuck some willing hooker, take that shower and put his veneer into place, but he’d learned to think on his feet in prison. This was no different. He just needed to get it together, get past his hormones.
“Ah, here we are. ” She slowed the car, turned off the highway. Startled, he realized he had zoned out on his surroundings to the point that he had missed the change in the landscape.
He’d found the empty terrain of desert and scrub curious when he’d come out of the prison, for he hadn’t remembered it that way. Now his confusion increased as it yielded to an oasis. A mirage like something out of Arabian Nights. As they wound down the road, sand and desolation became palm trees, lush green grass and some kind of man-made lagoon, so clear that it mirrored the blue sky above.
