AllFreeNovel
Share Us
He bit his tongue, the wave of need so forceful he almost grabbed her and took over.
Her voice was low and dark against his ear. “And I know you’re scared to show me this side of yourself. I know you think I’m too sweet or innocent or something to handle you. But you have no idea, Gib. No idea where my mind goes. So you better put limits on me, because I can be one scary-ass bitch.”
He closed his eyes and a shudder went through him, her words like an electrical surge inside him. All systems go.
She pressed her nose to the curve of his neck. “Tell me yes, Gib.”
The need moving through him was too strong, too potent. He’d avoided Sam after that night in the training room, but since then he hadn’t been able to touch another woman. She’d ruined him. She was in his head, stalking him. There was no way out, only through. He had to go there with her. She was right. They couldn’t be friends with this thing, this unfinished business, hovering between them. If he did this, he might never be able to face her again, but maybe he’d at least appease the obsession. They could both move on. Stop this painful dance. This torture with no end.
So though his heart was beating too fast, fear a thousand beating wings in his chest, he opened his mouth and said the only thing he could. “Yes.”
Sam’s breath coasted against his neck as she released one she’d apparently been holding. He realized then that she needed this as badly as he did. Somehow that made it easier. “Tell me your safe word.”
“I don’t need one.”
She pinched his side—hard, catching him off guard and making him swear. “Don’t insult me, Andrews. You don’t think I can hurt you? Rethink that. Safe word.”
He’d never need it. He didn’t doubt she could hurt him. But he knew he wouldn’t break. So he just spit out the Ranch standard. “Red.”
She reached out for his belt buckle, unfastened it, and then pulled. The sound of leather sliding against denim was loud in his ears, and every ounce of his blood rushed south.
Sam stepped back, eyes twinkling with something fierce as she looped the belt around her fist. “Your cock looks like it’s about to tear through your pants. Must hurt pressing against that zipper.”
He rubbed his lips together, the pressure in his dick near unbearable. But that only made his blood pump harder. “I’m managing.”
“You a pain slut, Gib?”
The fact that she kept using his name instead of one of the standard submissive terms—pet, sub, boy—made the whole thing feel more intense. In his sessions with dommes, he could slip into a role, be nameless, faceless. Sam wasn’t going to let him get away with that. She was going to make him own it. Admit what he never said aloud to anyone. “Yes, mistress.”
“Yes, what?”
He swallowed past his tight throat, the shame that tried to steal the words. “I’m a pain slut.”
“Take off your shirt.”
He’d done this for her before. He’d gone shirtless in trainings, had taken the kiss of her whip. But this somehow felt altogether different. He grabbed the back of his T-shirt and tugged it over his head. When he tossed it aside, he found Sam’s gaze hot on him. The obvious appreciation in her eyes was its own reward.
“Very nice.” Her gaze fell to his waistband. “Unzip your pants and take out your cock. I want to see what you’ve been keeping from me all this time.”
Gibson had never had a problem shedding his clothes in front of a woman, but the way Sam was looking at him had adrenaline coursing through him. He unzipped his fly and moved to shove his pants and underwear down.
But before he could, the belt swung out and hit his thigh through
his jeans with a thwack. He stilled, the sting of it like sweet fire.
“I didn’t say take them off. I said take your cock out,” Sam said, that cool impatience like an aphrodisiac.
“I’m sorry, mistress.”
She huffed a beleaguered sigh and flicked her hand at him. “Link your hands behind your head and stay still. I can’t trust you to do it right.”
Slowly, he lifted his arms and laced his hands behind his head. Sam didn’t take her eyes off him. She was gauging his reaction, pushing at borders and seeing what she got. A little sting here. A little shaming thrown around. The girl was relatively new to dominance, but she was a natural at reading people. And he had no doubt what she saw in his face.
Sam reached for the waistband of his boxer briefs, pulled it back, and dipped her hand inside. Her soft skin against his cock made the arches of his feet bow up. But she didn’t offer any more relief than a brief squeeze. Instead she cupped him, dipped his waistband low, and tucked it beneath his scrotum, putting all of him on lewd display within the open fly of his jeans. The head of his cock was glossy with arousal, the skin flushed and ruddy. He was dying for her to touch him, to put her mouth on him, something to alleviate the ache. But she left him in the cold.
She stepped back as if to examine her work, but he was preoccupied with drinking in the view. Sam’s nipples were pressing hard against her T-shirt, her breath quick, and her pupils dilated. She was turned the hell on and liking what she saw. He imagined he could scent her arousal in the air, which only made his cock harder. She wanted him. It was all over her.
But all she offered him was a shrug. “Yep. You’ll do.”
