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"Who am I, Anarchy?" he demanded.
"Master Jasper," she whimpered, wriggling beneath him. "MyMaster."
"Goddamn right, I am." A movement of his hips tied her up in knots. "Scream it, Anarchy."
Like pistons in a machine, his hips powered into her. Long, smooth thrusts, over and over, picking up speed as his athletic body accepted the challenge of rutting her into the mattress. Bent almost in half, she couldn't breathe, couldn't move, could only dig her nails into his back and hold on. Their breathing synchronized into hard, broken pants rising above the rhythmic slap of flesh on flesh, and the wet squelch of her pussy.
There wasn't time to be embarrassed, not when her nervous system sparked alight for a second time. Fire screamed through her veins, scorching her thoughts into ash. There was an instant when panic grabbed her by the throat as her body seized. Muscles locked, her heart stopped. Her lungs crumbled with barely a breath left in them.
She imploded.
He drove deep as she shattered around him, his roar of orgasm colliding with her scream of, "Master!"
*
One of these days, sex with her would kill him.
Jasper dropped his head between her breasts, gratified her breathing was as erratic as his, with Master!ringing in his ears. He loved hearing that word from her lips, almost as much as the way she addressed him as Sir. But right now, after the morning he'd had and the secrets that had ripped him apart in his confession, there was nothing as precious to him as her love.
Telling her about Leigh could have ended everything, and he was aware he'd taken a huge risk in spilling that particular sin. He couldn't deny he'd been ready for her instant rejection, a fist to the face. In his eyes, he deserved that and so much more.
Drugged or not, he'd been the aggressor. The one who'd violated a helpless female against her will.
Yet Anarchy hadn't reacted the way he expected. She hadn't heaped additional guilt on his shoulders—she'd absolved him, forgiven him, without a second thought. It was her nature to see the best in people, even in him.
She was unlike any other woman he'd known.
No one had ever suspected the truth behind his tattoos. Connie often studied them when she thought he wasn't looking—which was never—but hadn't formulated any suspicion that came close. How could she, when she didn't know what he was?
Anarchy was a lot like the Domme when it came to rooting around in someone's head and deciphering body language. An intrinsic skill that came from studying people, needing to please them. It showed how submissive she was beneath the attitude and sass he loved; she pre-emptedwants and needs before they arose, then did what she could to deliver them.
He realized he was crushing her, collapsed on top of her with those sleek legs almost up around her ears. Gently, carefully, he moved his arms and eased her legs down either side of his body. He wasn't ready to leave the warm, wet heat still sucking at his cock quite yet.
After years of missing out on sex, only scratching the itch when he truly couldn't stand it for a moment longer, he was relishing making up for lost opportunities. He'd spent hours watching others fuck their subs, fuck random subs, and think nothing of it. He hadn't dared take the risk of opening himself up, making himself vulnerable as he'd been as a child.
Sadism had given him a substitute and it had been enough, he could admit. For a long time, the floggers and toys were just an extension of his cock, giving pleasure and pain without the physical release his body craved. And now...sadism alone would never satisfy him again.
"Stuck with me, kitten. Our fates are sealed." He lifted his head and noted her vacant expression with smug pride. It sure soothed his performance anxieties when she responded so quickly to his touch, and succumbed to her orgasms with such dedication.
She moaned in protest when he shifted, extricated himself from the warmth of her. Feeling relaxed, he brushed a kiss over her parted lips, then strode toward the bathroom to clean up. On his return, wet cloth in hand, he found her mostly lucid, in the exact position he'd left her in.
When she saw him, her mouth curved into a sleepy grin. "That was awesome."
"You look like the kitten who lapped up all the cream," he responded, rubbing the backs of his fingers along the inside of her spread thighs. "Have you remembered who's in charge now, Archie?"
Stretching, she blew him a kiss. "Absolutely, Sir. There's never been any doubt in mind who's the boss of...oh," she hissed between her teeth and grimaced as he wiped the cloth over her folds. "Wow, that stings. Is it me or was there smoke coming from down there while we were..." Another caress of the cloth, another hiss of discomfort. "Seriously, Sir? Friction burns?"
God, he loved her. There was an untapped vein of humor that kept cropping up here and there, showing him what she'd be capable of if and when she let it loose. He liked being able to laugh, to relax around her, and thought she must feel the same way to be able to joke with him after sex. "I'm an animal," he deadpanned. "A beast."
The humor faded. She struggled to sit up, wrestled herself into position, then reached for him with a shaky hand and cupped his cheek. "No, you're not. Not in your heart, Jasper. Not where it counts. If I ever meet your father, I'm going to kick him in the balls for teaching you to believe that." Her fingers traced his lips; her tongue darted out to dampen hers. Mirth sparked to life again. "But in the bedroom, Sir? I'm totally open to being ravished by a beastly sadist."
More grateful to her than he could express, Jasper decided they needed all the fun they could get in the coming days. With his half-brothers assigned on a mission he wouldn't allow them to complete, and Dominic looming in the background, they might not have time for laughter. He flicked the tip of her nose. "I'll remind you of that later tonight when you're taking your punishment, kitten. Now, go get a shower. I'll change the sheets and take your bags downstairs."
She smirked. She was adorable in the purple hoody, bare from the waist down. "You might want to put some clothes on first, Master."
"But it's so much easier to fuck you while I'm naked. Go on with you, sassy little minx." He dragged her up onto her feet, made sure she was steady, then gave her a helpful slap on the ass to get her moving. "Breakfast is in twenty minutes. Don't be late."
Despite the slap, she paused and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him. Not a word left her lips; she didn't need to say a thing. Anarchy was tactile, she used her body to relay her feelings as often as she used her voice. The soft smile she gave him as the kiss broke was sweet, and left him feeling off-balance. For a man who'd resisted physical touch for so long, he found himself craving more.
