Cherise Sinclair - Dark Citadel

Finally, she lay limp, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding so hard her ribs must be bruised. “My God, no wonder people like being tied up,” she murmured.

His hand slapped her thigh hard enough to sting.

She jumped. “Hey!”

“Did you speak, little sub?” He lifted his head, his stern eyes holding a warning.

She started to say something, thought better of it. “Sir. I'm sorry, Sir. I thought we were done. Sir.”

He chuckled. Then he rose onto his knees, his big hands roved up her thighs, massaging the cramped muscles. He slid his hands up her stomach, and with a smile, cupped her breasts, squeezing just hard enough to make her breath hitch. His fingers lightly pinched her softening nipples back into attention.

“Kari, sweet, we're just getting started. In fact, I think you should come again before we move on.”

No. Wait.

And he slid back down. With fingers and mouth and tongue—and teeth this time—he brought her to another orgasm. A screaming one.

Oh God, oh God, oh God. Her heart was thudding so fast it felt like a galloping horse, and her lungs labored to find enough air.

He moved back and unfastened her ankles. “Kari.”

She blinked at him.

He gently pushed the sweaty strands of hair off her face and then moved on top of her, holding his weight on his elbows. “Bring your legs up,” he whispered before he took her mouth, plunging his tongue in.

She could taste herself, another shock in itself. Managed—eventually—to remember what he'd said. Legs up. Her legs were free, and she slid them up to settle beside his hips. His penis slid in the wetness of her folds; each brush against the swollen, sensitive tissues sent tremors through her.

When his hand dropped down and pressed the head of his penis to her entrance, she moaned, shivered.

Without any more warning, he drove into her, all the way to the hilt.

“Oh!” Impaled on him, she tried to jerk away. “Oooh…” Her insides pulsed around his intrusion, and her arms futilely yanked at the restraints.

“Oh, sweetheart, you feel good,” Dan murmured, taking her mouth again for a kiss. So good she was liable to kill him dead as her pussy squeezed his cock like a hot, pulsing fist. She was tight, slick with her own juices.

From the tightening of her muscles, the slight cringing away, he was bigger than she was used to. He got a deplorable sense of satisfaction from knowing that.

He kissed her while he waited for her body to adjust, plunging his tongue into her mouth in slow strokes, imitating what he'd be doing to her shortly. With one hand, he toyed with those sensitive nipples. The little whimpers she made could harden a dead man.

When he felt her hips start to move upward in response, he grinned and slid out—in—her moans as addictive to him as gin to an alcoholic. As he increased the speed, he released her wrists from the restraints. Her arms wrapped around him convulsively before her hands started stroking his back, adding to his pleasure.

He surged deeper, and her silken pussy contracted around him. With every hard thrust, his balls slapped against her soft buttocks, sending an inflaming vibration through him. He could feel her thigh muscles tremble as she awoke again to pleasure and moved right into true need.

What idiot could have possibly thought she was cold? Gripping her hips, he yanked her up against him with each stroke and then rubbed his pelvis down her clitoris as he withdrew. Her moans transformed into hard panting, and her fingers clenched his shoulders like miniature vises. Her little fingernails dug into his skin, arousing pinpricks of pain.

Faster, harder—she was almost there. He could feel his cock swell as he kept himself from coming. Reaching down between them, he swirled his fingers in the wetness from her pussy, then stroked up and over her clit.

She broke with a scream, spasming around him so hard his own climax engulfed him. With a roaring growl of pleasure, he buried his length within her and let her milk him dry.

Kari was still shuddering from the shock waves of pleasure when Master Dan rolled them over and nestled her to his side, her head on his chest. She could hear his heart drumming under all that muscle. His arms kept her against him, and she—she needed that right now, somehow.

He'd tied her up.

And she'd not only let him but had enjoyed everything he'd done. What was happening to her?

“You're thinking again, little sub,” he murmured, kissing the top of her head. “What about?”

She'd be doing a lot of thinking, she had a feeling. Instead of answering him, she ran her fingers over his rock-hard biceps. “You're so strong,” she whispered.

“You're so soft,” he whispered back. His fingers slid down her waist to squeeze and stroke her bottom.

“I should be all muscular like you.”

“You sound just like Z's sub. Listen, sweetling, and I'll tell you again. I know it's not politically correct, but I like my women soft.” He pulled her closer. “And curvy.” He skimmed a hand over her waist and then teased her breast until she sighed with pleasure. “And responsive. I love your body, little sub.” He pressed a kiss to her fingers.

His women—and she was one of them? The thought made her warm inside.

And he liked her the way she was—God, how awesome was that—someone who looked like him lusted after her body. Tilting her head, she watched him fondle her breasts, his lips curved in a smile, his eyes half-lidded.

She really did have nice breasts, didn't she?

And if he kept up his attentions, she was going to get all turned on again. How did he do that? She ran her fingers down his neck, tracing along his jaw.

Cupping one breast, he rubbed his thumb over the nipple. “Now tell me”—his voice changed from lazy indulgence to a deeper, firmer timbre—“how did you feel when you were tied and opened for my pleasure?”

Her hand stopped midstroke. Talk about it? He wanted to talk about…that? Men weren't supposed to be so verbal, were they?

“Shy, little sub? After all that I've done to you? I've had my fingers buried in your pussy, my mouth on your clit, my cock rammed inside you. If you can let me do that, surely you can talk to me.”

Heat seared her cheeks, and he chuckled. “Did being tied up scare you?”

She nodded, turned to hide her face in his shoulder.

He rose on one elbow. Grasping her shoulder, he pressed her flat, securing her even further with a leg across her hips. “You don't hide your feelings from yourself or from me. Tell me how you felt when you were tied up.”

“Vulnerable,” she whispered. “Like I couldn't help what you were going to do.”

“And it aroused you even more.” His hand played with her breasts, circling the tightening nipples. “Kari? Did being so securely restrained arouse you? Did you like it?” He pinched one nipple, a tiny flash of pain-pleasure.

“Yes.” She looked away from him, her face hot. “Yes, darn it.”

“Yes, what?”

“Yes, Sir. I liked it.”

“Brave girl.” He kissed her gently, nibbling on her lips. “It's not easy to admit enjoying something so different from what our mamas said we should enjoy. Why they think everyone should be alike in making love when no one can even agree on what ice cream they like, I'll never know.”

He rose, disappearing into the tiny bathroom in the corner. When he returned, he brought back a warm washcloth. Standing beside the bed, he wiped the sweat from her face.

“Thank you. That feels good.” It also felt strange to have this giant guy being so nurturing. Especially since his leathers were still open and displaying everything.

He put his knee on the bed and leaned forward. What was he…? He parted her thighs, stroking between them to clean her…there.

Blushing furiously, she tried to close her legs. “I can do that.”

“I enjoy doing this sometimes.” His knee settled on her ankle to keep her legs apart. He was very thorough. She was squirming and everything down there tingled before he was done.

As he walked into the bathroom, the leathers molded to him, showing every hard curve of his butt and thighs.

She pushed herself up and sat on the side of the bed, her head whirling. How very different this was from anything she'd done before. His control of her was what she'd wanted, and so far past what she'd expected that it scared her. Had she really begged? Screamed? Come over and over?

He returned with another warm washcloth and handed it to her. “Since you feel left out, you can join in. Wash me, Kari.” He stood in front of her, totally unselfconscious, totally gorgeous, his sex framed in the V of the opened front.

Wash him. She could do that. Would even enjoy doing that. Kneeling on the bed, she started with his testicles, so soft, so heavy in her hands. When done, she moved forward. His penis, even nonerect and wrinkly, was still huge. Thick. And under her fingers and the washcloth, it started to grow.

“Your hands feel good on me, little sub,” he said. He lifted her chin and gazed down into her eyes, and his voice changed, deepened and hardened, much like his penis was hardening in her hand. “Put your mouth on me now.” His master voice. “What do you say to me?”

He wanted her to—well, okay—she'd done it before. In bed. In the dark. He'd be able to see her. Watch her. Oh God.

She licked her lips. “Yes, Sir.”

She dropped the washcloth onto the floor and then took his penis into her hands. Even as she held it, it hardened, lengthened. Wow.