Lexi Blake - Dungeon Royale

She looked up at him and, for a moment, he was worried she would do just that. She would stand up and get dressed and walk out of his life forever and he wasn’t ready. God, he might never be ready for that. He wanted this time with her.

Rising from her knees, she went up on her toes, bringing her lips to his chin. She kissed him there, an oddly sweet affection. “Yes, Master.”

She turned, showing off that outrageously hot arse of hers, climbed on the bed, and then slowly spread her legs.

Time seemed to stop, just for a moment, as he looked at her. Presentation. The sweet offering of a submissive to her Master. Charlotte Taggart had been talking about more than castrating him. She’d told Penelope exactly how to get to him. He was being manipulated by a translator who had never been in the field, never even had a real lover in his mind. Penelope was up on her elbows, her legs spread wide. It should have been a tawdry display, but not for her. No. She didn’t look like a whore. She looked like a temptress offering him so bloody much more than sex. It was innocent and sweet and just the slightest bit false because she knew exactly what she was doing to him.

“Master?” Her voice shook just slightly as though worried her game was up.

“Who does it belong to?” It didn’t matter. He knew he should walk away and it didn’t matter because Ian was right. That was his pussy and he couldn’t walk away from it, from her. He might find the strength later, but he couldn’t now. He couldn’t devastate her a second time and he damn straight couldn’t disappoint himself. He wanted her more than he’d ever wanted anything in his life.

“You.” She met his eyes. “It’s yours for as long as I am.”

He fell on her, using none of his usual grace. He wasn’t an animal in bed. He was always controlled and slightly cool, but not this time. This time his need to brand her beat through his veins, forcing him to spread her legs farther and make a place for himself at her core. With virtually no finesse, he slammed inside her, his cock unable to wait a second more.

She would fight him now. She would see him for what he really was, what he always tried to hide.

Her nails sank into the skin of his shoulders, the pain biting through him with abandon. Her legs wrapped around him, enveloping him. She wasn’t pushing him away. Penelope was fighting to keep him close to her.

He took her mouth as he forced his cock high into her pussy. His tongue slid against hers, dominating her, fighting for control. She didn’t just lie back. She gave as good as she got. Her tongue pressed against him, her mouth allowing him access. The hard points of her nipples rubbed against his chest, and he couldn’t stop the growl that came out of his throat. He let his weight push her into the mattress as he began to thrust in and out.

He wasn’t thinking about the future or the bloody past. There was only Penelope, his sub.

He let go, pounding furiously into her, not giving a damn about anything but sinking his come deep inside her. Over and over, he fucked as far as he could into her. She thrust her pelvis up, taking him deep as her hands slid to his back, leaving her mark there.

She came first, nearly screaming into his mouth. The tiny muscles of her cunt tightened, milking his cock for all they were worth.

He held her tight and rode it out, giving up his come in long jets, letting it find a spot deep inside her body. He’d never taken a lover without a condom and never would again. Only from her would he find this connection, this amazing sensation of nothing being between them.

Pulsing pleasure swept through his body, and even though he was empty, he couldn’t stop his hips from moving against her. He simply let his body sag onto hers, let her run her hands through his hair, soothing him.

His heart pounded, blood rushing through him. Alive. He felt alive when he was with her. Not cold but warm and happy.

If she died, he would let Baz take him.

Fuck. He was going to get her killed because warm and fucking happy didn’t work on an op. Cold. Calculating. He needed to be the same agent Ian Taggart talked about—the one who made the hard decisions. Not the one who slept with his head cradled to his sub’s chest.

He rolled off her, utterly unsure how to handle things. “That was good.”

A stupid thing to say, but he couldn’t think of another way to break the moment between them. He didn’t want to hurt her again.

She laughed a little. “Yes, it was. Now you feel free to run away, Damon. It’s all right. I’m fine. I understand that this is all about sex and this is how all of our sexual sessions end, with you taking a shower and going about your business. I intend to do the same.”

He turned to look at her. She was smiling slightly, utterly unlike what he’d expected. He’d expected tears and regret, but she looked satisfied and relaxed and slightly amused with him. It rankled. Had she not felt what he had? “Is that right?”

“You can’t help it. You’re a very foolish man.” She rolled off the bed with a casualness he wouldn’t have suspected she possessed. “But I’m taking the shower first this time. You left me without hot water last time. I’ll meet you downstairs. We have a conference at eleven, right?”

She stretched, not seeming to mind that she was naked and had the faintest pink sheen to her arse. His cock rumbled again, stiffening as he watched her move. It was perverse. It was exactly what he should want. She was accepting the limitations of their relationship, but he was getting irritated at the very thought. Had she just used him for sex? “Yes.”

“Excellent. There’s time for breakfast then.” She walked away, not bothering with the robe at the end of the bed. “See you later, Damon.”

He watched her walk away, unable to take his eyes off her. What the hell had just happened?

He heard the shower turn on and wondered if he’d created a monster.

Penelope shifted in her corset, trying to get used to the feeling of not being able to breathe at all. In any way. She stared at herself in the mirror, for once not hating the way she looked.

She was more confident in her body. Sex with Damon every night and every morning and sometimes in the middle of the day had gotten her used to being naked around him. Since the debacle in Nigel’s office, almost a week had passed, and Damon was as remote as ever. Except when he took her to bed. Or against a wall. Or on top of his desk.

He’d taken to calling for her in the middle of the day. She would walk in thinking they were going to work and he’d immediately order her to strip, and his cock would be inside her the minute her clothes were off.

He gave her everything in those moments. And absolutely nothing but his polite charm outside of them.

It was frustrating.

“You look gorgeous,” Charlotte said, giving her a wink as she joined her in front of the dressing room mirror.

“I look half naked.” More than half really since Damon had ordered her to wear a piece of floss between her arse cheeks.

Chelsea snorted a little. “Enjoy it while you can. You’ll probably be fully naked by the end of the night.” She started to move, but her leg seemed to slip. She caught herself with a wince.

“Are you all right?” At first Chelsea had seemed dauntless to her, unapproachable, a bit cold. Over the past few days, Penelope had come to see beyond the façade to the vulnerable young woman beneath. Chelsea didn’t like to show it, but she cared about the people around her. Even though she called one of them Satan.

“It’s just my leg. Nothing new. I’m fine.” Chelsea rubbed her thigh through the PVC she wore.

“No, you’re in pain,” Charlotte said, reaching for her sister. “Are you going to take something?”

Chelsea shook her head. “No. If I start taking pills, I might not stop. I can be honest about that much. I need a session. Do you think…”

Charlotte nodded. “Yes, but Jake and Jesse aren’t here and Damon is working with Penny tonight. It’s Ian or Simon.”

Chelsea’s eyes closed briefly. “I’ll go back upstairs and try propping it up.”

Charlotte’s hands formed frustrated fists at her sides. “Damn it. Ian won’t hurt you. He even told Simon to drop his requirements when you need a session. Do you know what it takes to get that man to interfere with another Dom?”

It was hard to think of Simon Weston being a Dom. He was always so smooth and civilized. He wore designer suits, but tonight she was going to see him in leathers.

“What are his requirements?” The minute the question was out of her mouth, she wanted to call it back. It wasn’t her business, but she was so curious.

“Naked, of course.” Chelsea frowned as she straightened up and looked at herself in the mirror. “He wants to see how bad my scars are, I’m sure.”

Charlotte sighed, an annoyed sound. “I think he wants to see your breasts.”

Chelsea huffed a little. “Not so sure about that. You know how much he likes crippled girls. I’ll go talk to Satan myself. See you in a bit. Try not to get naked too fast, Pen. Make the man work for it.”

Charlotte shook her head as Chelsea walked out of the dressing room toward the dungeon floor. “She’s going to be the death of me.”

“What did she mean about crippled girls?” She seemed to struggle with minding her own business, but in the days she’d spent at The Garden, she’d settled into comfortable friendships and she was fascinated by the women around her.

Charlotte pulled out her blush and eyed Penny critically before she started applying the light pink color to her cheeks. Penny stayed still. Charlotte was an artist and Penny had recently become her favorite canvas.