His hand closed over one ass cheek in tight denim, and used the hold to shift her over so she was lying on him, one of his thighs pressed up between her legs, sending a ripple of erotic pleasure shivering up through her lower stomach and chest, tightening her nipples against his hard body. His hand kneaded her ass, stroked the crease of thigh, two fingers sliding down the curve of her buttocks, in between her legs, curling under the intersection of stitched seams so the heel of his hand was against the base of her ass, his fingers hooked over her clit at the crotch of the jeans, pressing on her, kneading her like a cat, making her shudder, her breath coming faster.
67
Joey W. Hill
“Let me put my cock in you,” he murmured, kissing her neck, nuzzling, biting.
Her grip on reality was slipping away. He was entirely too potent, his hands sure, knowledgeable, knowing exactly how to drive sense and control away, coaxing her into compliance. His arm pressed against her buttocks, and she felt the metal of the onyx and silver wrist cuffs he had worn.
With an oath, she slapped her hands against his chest and shoved off him, rolling to her side, coming to her feet in a crouch, putting a good four feet between them.
“This is bullshit,” she said, really angry with him.
He sat up. His color was high and his erection tremendous, distending the front of his jeans and making her wish she wasn’t so sure of what she knew, or that she could forget it and just take what he was offering to relieve the throbbing want in her pussy.
“What’s bullshit?” He asked. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“Don’t take that tone with me,” she warned. “You won’t charm or con me, Mackenzie. I told you. When we make love, it will be because that’s what you want and I want, not because you want a change in conversational topic, and you figure a good fuck will distract me. I’m not the distractable type, not when it’s important. I asked you why you play the sub side of the fence. I expect an answer.” And this was important. Maybe too important. She wanted to slap him for making things this difficult, but his recalcitrance also turned her on, there was no denying that.
He looked very appealing to her, sitting there tensely on one elbow.
“I don’t know,” he said at last, irritation in his tone. “I…why is it women want to analyze? I just…do. When I’m with a woman, it’s the way I feel. You’re not complaining, are you? So why does it matter?”
Because you matter. Because the answer to the question is important to you, but you’re afraid to answer it.
“I want you to stand up and unfasten your jeans, take them down with your underwear to your knees. I want to see you. And take those damn wrist cuffs off. Some other woman gave them to you, so I don’t want to see them. You’re mine, Mackenzie, and I don’t share you, not even with memories.” He hadn’t expected that, or the gear change, she could tell. She watched him process it, glance around them, and she softened, leaned forward, laid a hand on his jaw. “We’ll hear a car if someone pulls up. We’ll have a few minutes before we see them. That’s why I came down here. You can trust me to protect your privacy, Mac.” He nodded. His gaze still held anger and frustration, but he obeyed, rising to his feet. He took off the cuffs first, dropped them to the blanket. Violet lowered herself to one hip, watching him intently as he took his hand to the button of his jeans and worked it loose with those large, capable fingers. He lowered the zipper, then pushed the jeans down his hips with his underwear, freeing his cock so it stretched out in full magnificent rigid glory.
“Unbutton the shirt so it’s not in my way,” she ordered softly.
68
Natural Law
He obeyed, and she watched him become longer and harder, his body responding to her commands and her perusal. She touched her tongue, just the tip to her top lip, and his testicles contracted.
“Now.” She lifted her lashes. “Lace your hands behind your head. And don’t move them unless I tell you to do so. And you are not allowed to look down. Not even once.”
“Yes, Mistress.”
“I like it very much when you call me that.” She slid over along the blanket, ran one finger along his length, felt his heat, the iron hardness of him, noted the drop of moisture gathering at the tip. She smoothed her knuckles down the side of his hip, the top of his thigh. “Two of the ladies that will be there tonight are twins. They work in tandem, and they like pain. They’re good at administering it, and they like to share subs. How do you feel about me sharing you with them, Mackenzie?” She watched his face, saw the shadow, saw it masked. “Whatever pleases Mistress.”
“Hmmm. This does.” She took up the white plastic spreading knife and spread some of the blackberry preserves on the top of his cock, just the length of the shaft behind the head. He drew in a breath as she covered him with her mouth, bringing his flesh and the tartness into it, circling the base of his cock with one small hand and squeezing firmly as she sucked and licked the condiment from him.
“Jesus Christ.”
She smiled, drew back just enough to speak. “Keep your hands up there, Mackenzie. I want to play with you a bit. You’re mine, aren’t you? My plaything?”
“Yes, Mistress. God…yes.”
She licked a long stroke down the underside to his scrotum, as if she were enjoying a lollipop. “Close your eyes. I want you to be totally focused on where I lick you next.” He obeyed, though the effort it cost him was visible.
She brought her hands around him, her palms caressing his thighs, his hips. They trembled with the strain of keeping completely still as she’d ordered, while she slid her lips up and down his impressive length. His fingers clenched behind his head, the bicep muscles bunched in a way that made her want to rub oill all over his body again, polish those muscles to gleaming. In an ideal world, a Mistress could keep her slave stripped and oiled all the time, in public or out of it. She wouldn’t mind the envious stares of other women, knowing she owned that erect cock, all that beauty and power at her command.
Well, if she could ever get him to stop being so damn stubborn, it would all be at her command. She glanced up to make sure his eyes were still closed and reached into her purse, running the base of her tongue along the ridge of his engorged head as she did so, and made the adjustments she needed with the bottle of lubricant.
She took her hands up his thighs, caressing his hips and curled around those muscular buttocks. He jerked at the cold touch of the new plug, his muscles starting to tighten, but she had already inserted the head of it and used his movement to thrust it 69
Joey W. Hill
past the relaxed muscle before it could clench up. It was a smaller plug, but large enough to be noticeable to the wearer.
“Violet,” he made a strangled noise. “Not again.”
“Eyes closed, Mackenzie, and keep your hands up there.” She kissed the tip of him, licked the hand gently once more, and then used her hold on his waist to stand up, letting his bare cock brush her jean clad hip. She worked his underwear and jeans back up his legs, over his hips and delectable ass, buttoning and fastening the jeans so their snug fit and the tight hold of that powerful muscle would keep the plug in place. She had to maneuver the zipper carefully over his erection and put her hand in a couple of times to ensure it was tucked in properly. She felt his apprehension, saw the quiver of his arms as he restrained himself, fighting against instinct to relinquish himself to her hands.
“I won’t use the remote,” she said, taking her time buttoning his shirt, fondling his damp heated skin. “Unless you pull that crap with me again. You can’t charm your way out of things with me, Mackenzie, and you won’t drive me away by being threatening and surly. You can choose to walk away, and that’s it. A polite, courteous break of contract because two people no longer see the benefit of being with one another, as one or both feels they have nothing left to offer the other.” His hands were faster than she expected. Before she could blink, they were gripping her upper arms hard, and he’d lifted her to her toes. “I did want to make love to you,” he snapped. “It wasn’t bullshit. It wasn’t a game.”
“I’m glad to hear it. I told you before. To me, none of this is a game. Even when you try to play me, it’s not a game.” She stared up at him, used her elevated position to press her lips to his hard, angry mouth, nipping at him until they changed, yielded, opened. Abruptly he was consuming her, his arms sliding from their grip on her upper arms to clamp around her body, holding her against his taut, roused one. She played her fingers over his broad back, over his hips, clutched his ass and pressed on where the plug rested, exerting stimulating pressure and also making sure there was no visible indication he was wearing it. She didn’t want to humiliate him, just enforce that he was hers.
“Violet,” he groaned against her mouth, and it was hard for her to maintain a rational thought in his embrace. He was all-encompassing, the press of his torso an eclipse of heat that gathered her in, made her want to stay inside those strong arms, inside the span of his attention, for a few centuries. She stopped worrying and gripped the muscles of his wide back, clutched shirt and skin and surrendered to her own ferocity. Meeting his mouth with tongue and teeth just as furiously, her body quickened at every touch of his. His large hands dropped to squeeze, knead her buttocks, as possessive of her as she was of him.