Cherise Sinclair - Dark Citadel

“Open more,” he said and moved his legs apart, spreading her, exposing her further to his touch. “You have a soft pussy, sweetheart. And you're very tight.” With his words, he slid his finger back up inside her, making her insides clench. When his thumb circled and stroked her clit, her hands curled helplessly against his sides.

With a low laugh, he pulled her forward, pushing her forehead against his hard chest. She needed the support as he stroked inside her, curling and hitting a sensitive spot, one that sent blood roaring through her veins like hot lava.

She could hear herself panting. Her hands closed into fists, unable to move from where they were pinned against his sides. She could only take what he was doing to her. His free hand stroked across her breasts, sending sharp, spiking lines of heat through her as he rolled her nipples between his fingers.

Her thighs quivered uncontrollably. Everything tightened inside her. Each stroke inside and each flick of his thumb on her clit sent her closer, until her breathing stopped and the pressure built. Waiting, waiting… He pulled his hand back and then pushed two fingers into her, the thickness stunning, and she broke as devastating pleasure burst inside her, as her vagina convulsed around his impaling fingers, as her hips bucked to his thrusts, over and over.

She was absolutely beautiful when she came, Dan thought. Her lips parted, cheeks flushed pink. Her chest heaved as she panted, jostling those luscious breasts. Her response was so honest.

After he'd induced the last few spasms, he removed his hand, enjoying the heady fragrance of her arousal. Releasing her wrists, he repositioned her so she could rest in his arms. He could feel her heart pounding when he cupped a breast.

Exhausted, she lay against his chest, limp as overcooked spaghetti. Damn, she was a comfortable armful. Little and round, fragrant and responsive. And sweet. He kissed the top of her head.

When her breathing slowed, she lifted her head. “Um…I…well…thank you.”

He chuckled. Her cheeks were even pinker now than when she'd come. “You're welcome, little sub.”

“But what about you? You didn't…” Her whispered words were muffled, her face pressed against his chest.

Sweet. “I'll survive.”

“But…”

He tilted her chin up so she had to look at him. “You know, I would like nothing better than to tie you down, open you up, and bury my cock in that wet pussy.”

She inhaled sharply and quivered.

He stroked her cheek with his thumb. Silky smooth. “And you would like it too, little sub, wouldn't you?”

Another wash of red across her face. Her pulse picked back up. She was unable to meet his eyes as she nodded.

“But you aren't ready for that tonight, sweetie, and the time for your beginner class ends about now. I don't think you want to have a dungeon monitor find you with your legs over my shoulders and me deep inside you.” The thought made him harden. “Right?”

Her spine straightened. She shook her head. “I think I'd better go now.”

He stroked her breasts, watched the nipples move from after-climax softness to hard points again. He hadn't had enough time with those breasts; they weren't nearly pink enough. But hell, it really was time to stop.

With a sigh, he grabbed her bra and helped her into it, covering the dual temptations. He buttoned her dress, nudging her hands out of the way when she tried to help. “I enjoy dressing you,” he murmured and grinned. “Of course, I enjoyed undressing you more.”

Having her entirely naked would be even better. An image of her in bed, arms chained over her head, squirming under his mouth, his fingers, his cock, made him harden even further, as if he hadn't already been in pain since the moment his fingers touched her damp panties.

But a beginner deserved a gentle first experience, just enough to learn what being restrained felt like, but not enough to scare her.

With one hand along her jaw, he held her for his kiss, his grip tight enough she could feel his strength and her helplessness. Reminding her of what domination meant. When he released her, that succulent little body trembled.

“Now, you have an idea of what submission means,” he whispered. Was there anything headier than a woman quivering in his arms? Knowing he could take her in any way he wanted. Knowing he could make her come, over and over, by his touch.

And knowing his words alone could send her into total confusion. “Did you like being restrained, Kari?”

She wanted to shout at him. The man knew full well how embarrassed talking about sex made her, and he asked her that deliberately. Shoot, every time he held her in place, her insides went all soft and liquid, and he knew that too. Annoyance flared inside her.

“Kari. I asked you a question.” His voice had that edge of command. Deeper, harder.

“Yes, dammit.” He'd made her swear. She glared at him. And what kind of slutty woman was she to like being cuffed and ordered around and… Her body remembered the overwhelming feel of his fingers moving in her, on her, and she clenched inside. She wasn't going to get into a discussion about this. Absolutely not. “I liked it. Okay?”

One eyebrow raised, and his lips flattened into a hard line. He tilted her suddenly, back against his left arm, pinning her right side up against his chest. He secured her left wrist with one hand. As his arm tightened around her, his right hand slid under her skirt, between her legs, and he pushed a finger right into her.

She gasped, struggled. “What are you—”

“Be silent.” He set his thumb on her still-sensitive clit, pressing firmly.

She gasped against the shock of awakening need.

“Now, I can keep you here, just like this, finger-fucking you until you're screaming for release, until the entire club can hear you.”

His graphic words widened her eyes with horror.

“Or you can apologize and remember how a sub addresses a Dom in this club.” His finger started moving in and out, his thumb making circles on her clit, and she realized he could easily make her lose control. She pulled at her hand and got nowhere; his grip was tighter than the cuffs, and the feeling of helplessness sent arousal soaring within her.

His finger moved within her, slow and sure, then fast and hard, circles and strokes. She burned, her hips rising into his hand. He stopped suddenly, leaving her throbbing, his dark eyes on her face.

She realized she was breathing hard and pressed her lips together. Okay, so no problem. She'd cool down and—

He started again, plunging in and out, and she let out a cry, her hips thrashing uncontrollably. Oh, God, he could do just what he'd said. “I-I'm sorry, Sir. I'll be more careful. Please—”

His grin was a flash of white, then gone. “Apology accepted.” When he removed his hand, her whole lower half ached with need. “And how you feel now will remind of you this lesson in the future.”

She started to glare at him, got a level look, and managed to give him a tight-lipped smile.

He laughed. “Sweetheart, I hope you don't play poker.”

With his hand—she could smell herself on his fingers—he turned her head and took her lips. She tried to push him away, realized her hand was still gripped in his, and again the heat rose within her. His kiss was hard, thorough, and long. It left her head spinning and her body aching even more.

When he lifted his head, she couldn't move, could only manage a shuddery breath. With a soft chuckle, he kissed her cheek and cuddled her against his big chest. She rolled her head against him, contented and a little confused.

When he held her, controlled her, she got so aroused, but when Buck did almost exactly the same things—ordering her, wanting to restrain her—she felt repelled. That didn't make any sense.

Of course, any woman with a functioning ovary would see Sir and want him. Oh, yes. But it was more than that. Part of what made her so hot and needy was the aura of power around him. No, more than that…controlled power.

He didn't let his body lead him around. He didn't let her lead him around either. And he was honest. She didn't have to guess if she did something right. If he wasn't happy, she found out right away. If he wanted her to do something, he said so.

And he liked her body. Liked her. She really liked him too. Especially right now. Getting off—when she did—always left her feeling a little lost. Vulnerable. But the way he held her so firmly against him made her feel safe. Cherished, even.

Even if she had more questions about herself than when she started, he'd given her an evening to remember.

She set her hand on his cheek, feeling the roughness of beard shadow. “Sir,” she whispered and pulled his head down so she could kiss him and show him how much she appreciated his consideration.

When they broke this time, his eyes were soft as he looked down at her. “Kari,” he murmured. He pulled her tighter against him, his hand stroking her shoulder. “Sweetheart, you are…”

He stopped, and his hand froze against her arm. For a moment, he looked at her as if he didn't know who she was.

“Sir?”

His brows drew together, and his arms loosened. Then he pushed her to her feet. “It's time you went home.”

When he stood, she lifted a hand toward him but let it drop. “Are you mad? Did I do something wrong?”

His mouth smiled, but his eyes didn't. “No, you did nothing wrong. You're a very nice woman, Kari.”

Well, talk about damned with faint praise.