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“This moment will be your reminder, the return to center, whenever you need it. From here forward, from the beginning, middle, and all the way to the end, I’m your Master, and you’re my submissive. Friends, lovers, confidantes, combatants, partners, soul mates, wherever this journey takes us, that’s still the core of our relationship, now and always.”
His gray gaze was fierce. The words were from his heart, she was sure, but she wondered if he’d said them to her in his head, long before he said them now. They came forth with the force of a ritual oath.
“Because that’s who I am with you, and who you are with me. Do you understand? I want to hear your response.”
“Y-yes. Yes, Sir. Please.”
He loosened the band on her braid and then combed his fingers with firm purpose through her hair, removing the layers, letting it fall free around her shoulders and face. At least until he bound it anew, in the grip of his hand. He used the handful of it to pull her head up, chin raised, the angle enough to make her arch her back.
He stroked his other hand over her side, underneath her, to possess a breast, pinch the nipple. Her body reacted, throwing her hips up higher to him, asking, begging.
Animal instinct.
“Watch me take you, doc,” he said. “Fuck you like you’re mine forever. Because as long as you want that, you are.”
More harsh cries tore from her throat as he thrust into her, holding her hair, his other hand on her hip. He pushed her back to her elbows, which helped her brace herself against his enormous strength, even as she knew he was holding back. To care for her, while letting her feel how thrillingly helpless she was. She had to take what he was going to give her.
It was as he’d said. Their bodies the fuel, their feelings the source. The breath she drew into her was the oxygen that had the fire leaping ever higher, that orgasm coming, irresistible. When he changed his angle, holding her almost off her knees as he drove into her, it was upon her before she could try to stop it.
“Brick…”
“It’s all right. Come hard for me. Come loud.”
She couldn’t stop herself from doing either of those things. His cock rubbed against blood-filled, slick flesh as she clutched down on him. When his hand moved back over her breast, teasing, pinching and flicking her nipple at the height of the climax, the spears of sensation propelled her even higher, as did the slap of his body against her buttocks, another kind of spanking. She wanted his discipline, wanted his punishment, his possession. Her cries became screams, long, needy sounds that echoed into the canyon of everything she wanted to be with and for him.
It wasn’t until her climax began to ebb that he let his own take him. He dropped down over her, pushing her further toward the mat, her chin and lips brushing it. His hand came back to her hair, wrapped into it and turned her head forcibly so he could clamp his mouth on her neck for the finish, his teeth pressing cruelly against her flesh. Another place she’d be marked by him. Pain had never felt so good.
He kept going until she’d experienced every possible aftershock, until she had to rely on his strength because she had none to hold herself up.
And when he finally eased out of her, he cared for her fragile, raw state. He brushed kisses between her shoulder blades, along her spine, touching his lips to her buttocks. Her flesh had that glowing, slightly sore feeling, like from a sunburn. When she twitched under the friction between his mouth and her skin, he made a soothing noise. “I’ll rub some Vitamin E oil into that to help.”
It took a few moments for her to find words, to try to sort her brain cells to tease him. “You better.”
“Have I mentioned your pushy brat side makes me want to find my belt?” He chuckled as she tensed. “I like it when you want the pain, want to ride the pleasure that can come with it. But right now your sweet skin needs care, not punishment. Plus…”
He dropped to his hip and elbow next to her, with a thump and a half-groan, before rolling on his back and pulling her onto his chest. “You’ve worn me out. I need some recuperation time.”
She smiled, a deep sigh leaving her. Contentment. A few minutes later, when she thought she should push herself up to a sitting position and find that wet towel to help clean them both up, his arm tightened across her back, holding her. “Unh-unh. You stay right here. I like having you naked and draped on me. Plus, you move away, you’ll get cold. Can’t have that.”
She propped her chin on his chest, tracing his pectoral, making a circular track up to the broad shape of his shoulder and back down again. “Those love letters you collected,” she said. “Do you know any by heart, like you do poetry?”
“I collected a lot of correspondence. Not just that kind. Rufus is an ass.”
“He’s right, though, that you liked them the best? You did say you’re a romantic.”
“I’m a Renaissance man. I appreciated cannon schematics, demolitions and battle tactics as much as my romantic side appreciated the other.” He pushed her head back down against his chest, making her smile.
“You’d have been interested in some of the medical correspondence,” he added. “Requests for certain supplies, discussions of field medicine and surgery practices. Though how little resources they had to treat battle injuries and disease will horrify you. Particularly toward the war’s end.”
“Do you keep all that here?” She stroked his pectoral again, played in his chest hair.
“Some. But a lot of what Rufus and I collected on our trip, plus further research I did, are indexed and with my parents. My dad is using it to write a book. Plus, in addition to teaching at the middle school here, he does a summer course on the Civil War at the college.”
“Did you do that for him because you felt bad about deciding not to be a teacher?”
Brick grunted, trailing a hand along her spine, over her hip. “Maybe partly. But he respected my choice, and maybe because he did, I was able to appreciate his, and develop my own interest in it. I like helping him. It’s something we can do together as adults, like the re-enacting when I was a kid.”
If the two of them were in a relationship together, she’d get the chance to know his parents better. Ask his dad questions and see that passion for history surface, like his son’s passion for it from a different direction. Brick was definitely the kind of man who brought a girl home to spend time with his family. What would they think of her?
