He stretched his legs out. Aside from scenes in the club, how long had it been since he’d kissed and fondled a woman without making love to her later? Years? Even longer since he’d been so uncomfortable he had to jerk off in the shower. But his gatita had a stronger effect on him than any woman before.
She’d become nicely hot last night. He’d concentrated on her breasts, venturing lower at times. Over the past weeks, she’d become accustomed to his hands, but not to having him deliberately arousing her. When she’d started to panic, he’d stopped and held her, and she’d quieted. She looked to him for comfort now, and that pleased him…perhaps too much. He shouldn’t get attached to this woman. When the slavers were no longer a threat, she’d return to her own life.
It would be difficult to let her go. He liked having her curled in his arms, showering with her, teaching her weight lifting and fighting. She was as affectionate and fun as the kitten he called her, and her need to give was spiced with a delightful temper.
She’d changed in her time with him. As she’d grown comfortable with his commands, she’d also acquired a submissive’s trait of always being aware of her master, as he was aware of her. He’d forgotten the beauty of the constant perception between a dominant and his submissive.
Because of Alicia. His mouth flattened at the bitter taste brought by the memory of his marriage. He and Alicia had been happy at first, master and slave. Things had changed. Much was his fault. Having had a slave before, he knew—thought he knew—what a relationship required. Too in love to be cautious, he’d yielded to Alicia’s pleas and jumped right in. Husband and master.
But he hadn’t married a slave.
With one hand on the edge of the pool, Kimberly stopped to catch her breath. She saw him watching, waited a second in case he wanted her, then launched into another lap. Determined little submissive.
Alicia hadn’t been submissive at all. New to BDSM, she hadn’t realized that submission didn’t punch her buttons; pain did. After they figured it out, he hadn’t tried to continue as her master, but had hoped they could still have a good life together. Foolish Sandoval.
And when she’d betrayed him, she’d changed his memories of what had been good into something ugly. Then she’d gone one step further and turned his family against him by revealing his lifestyle.
Raoul tilted his head back. The setting sun was a red gleam along the horizon, disappearing as if washed away by the waves. A shame that memories didn’t disappear so easily. Eventually…someday…he’d get into a Dominant/submissive relationship, would love someone again. But, like a ripped muscle, his desire to launch into a new relationship had been weakened, wasn’t ready to bear the burden. Until then, he was content with the casual relationships he had with various submissives.
The streak of light slowly disappeared, leaving only gray ocean meeting the dark sky.
A splash drew his gaze to where Kimberly had climbed out of the pool. She dried herself off and came over to kneel at his feet, cleverly bringing the towel to protect her knees from the concrete. Smart gatita. Her eyes were down, her body relaxed.
He smiled in satisfaction. Her first week she’d been constantly braced for a blow. Now her fears appeared in response to something new he proposed, but not until then. She trusted him.
Yes, he would miss her. It was good she wouldn’t be with him much longer.
“There’s a bottle of wine chilling in the refrigerator,” he said. “Why don’t you bring it into the living room? Two glasses. We’ll watch a movie.”
“Yes, Master.”
When had her stutter disappeared? As she rose smoothly and headed for the kitchen, he remembered he wanted to add dance back to her day’s routines. He’d enjoy watching her.
In the living room, he checked the end table drawer—no, the little minx hadn’t found the toys he’d left there—and flipped off the lights except for the wall sconces.
Kimberly walked in a minute later. She set the tray on the coffee table, poured a glass of wine, then knelt and offered up the drink.
“Thank you, chiquita. That’s beautifully done.” He smoothed her hair, the ends damp from the pool, although she’d had it pinned on top of her head. Her skin was still glowing from her exercise. Her breasts were filling out, and her abs and thighs showed muscle definition. Pretty sumisa, now comfortable with her nakedness in his presence. “You may pour yourself a glass as well.”
“Yes, Master. Thank you.” She started to say something and hesitated.
“Go on. This is our room to relax together, so you may speak freely. Although respectfully would be in your best interests.” He touched her nose, and she wrinkled it at him. “What were you going to say?”
“I haven’t had wine since—since before.”
“Well, I hope you like this one then.” He took a sip and approved. “One of the Shadowlands’ submissives became engaged last month, and her mother brought out a crate of California wines as a present for her son-in-law-to-be.” A bribe to delay the wedding a month so she could help plan it. Nolan had been kind enough to share a couple of bottles.
Kimberly tried the wine, and a pleased smile lit her face. “It’s really good.”
Raoul walked over to the dark walnut entertainment center to decide on a movie. Just to get a reaction, he pulled out a World War II film. “Maybe some battles?”
“Ugh. How about Runaway Bride?” She burst into laughter at his expression. “Miss Congeniality? She’s an FBI agent. You should like that.”
When he shook his head in disgust, her giggles bubbled over like champagne. Was this what she had been like before her trauma? What kind of people would damage someone so bright? So sparkling with energy. He should have been there to protect her.
He cleared his throat. “Perhaps we should watch a Chuck Norris film. You can take notes and learn something of fighting?”
Fighting? Such a typical man . “Well, maybe we should watch chick flicks. You can learn more about women.” Kim grinned. That should get him.
Master R raised his eyebrows and stepped close enough that her bare breasts rubbed on his shirt. Her nipples bunched in reaction.
“Do you feel my knowledge of women is lacking, gatita?” he asked softly. His dark eyes caught hers and held…held as every bone in her body turned into melted butter, and the promise in his gaze blanked her mind. When he cupped her chin and kissed her, so gently, lingering for a second before he retreated, her nerves started to fire in random bursts. “Kimberly? I asked you a question.”
“Mmm?” Question: Did she think he needed to know anything more about women? If he did, God help them all. “Um.” She shook her head, trying to throw off the sensual haze. Her nipples throbbed. “Perhaps not.”
He chuckled and handed her a DVD. “How about this one? Chocolat.”
That was a strange choice. She blinked and nodded.
“Very good.” He inserted the DVD, took his place on the leather sofa, and patted the cushion beside him.
Snuggling against him, as he liked—and she’d started to really like—she sipped her wine and watched the film.
“I know women go crazy over chocolate,” Master R said after a bit, “almost as much as men obsess about sex.” He pulled her onto his lap, leaning her back against his left arm. She stiffened, then relaxed. “Since you’ll enjoy a chocolate movie more than me, I should get a treat for every time they eat candy.”
“Your logic isn’t—”
He cupped her face with his free hand, and his lips took hers, lightly in the way she’d grown used to. Then his tongue stroked insistently. He tasted of wine and of himself. Her hands curled around his forearm as heat rose inside her.
Lifting his head, he smiled down in her eyes. When he tried to move his hand, she realized she still clung to his arm and had to force her fingers open.
Shifting slightly, making her fully aware of the erection pressing against her bare bottom, he refilled her glass. She tried to check his, but it was behind her, on the end table.
After handing over her drink, he resumed watching the movie. Jerk.
Before Kim had more than a few sips, the heroine talked someone into sampling her wares, and Master R kissed her again.
How much chocolate do they eat in this movie?
A lot. Each kiss grew more drugging, wetter, deeper. No longer teasing, he took her mouth hard, ravaging until her toes curled and heat flushed her skin.
She felt the wetness growing between her legs. Her fingers tangled in his black hair; her other hand pressed against his chest and the iron muscles that flexed as he lifted her closer.
When he raised his head, his eyes were half-lidded with his passion. He smiled slightly and paused the movie. “I have a couple of toys to add to the evening. Stand up, please.”
Toys? When a man—a dom—said toys, he didn’t mean stuffed animals or baseballs. A shiver ran through her. His eyes narrowed in warning. She jumped to her feet.
He pulled a package out of the end table’s drawer. “Open.” He patted her thighs lightly to have her widen her stance, but this time he kept tapping until her legs were so far apart that she rocked unsteadily. “You may hold on to my shoulders to keep your balance.”
She rested her hands on his hard, hard shoulders, her loose hair falling over her arms. Her pussy felt open. Exposed. Oh God, what was he going to do? She bit her lip, trying to remember she’d asked for this. “Touch me some,” she’d said. You’re an idiot, Kim. Her fingers dug into his skin.
“Good girl.” The package held a small bullet vibrator. He slickened it in her wetness—and she realized she was very, very wet.
She had an instant of fear as his calloused fingers touched her so intimately, and then with a smooth move, he pushed the toy inside her vagina.
At her gasp, he looked up, studying her for a second, his hand still between her legs. His dark brown eyes held lust but also concern…for her. As he watched her, his finger traced through her folds, spreading the wetness, establishing that…that he could. Marking his ownership.
Her body tingled, top to bottom, with his slow stroking.
“Good sumisa,” he murmured. He patted her thigh, indicating she could stand up straight. Her thighs closed over her swollen, throbbing labia.
“Now put these on.” From the drawer, he brought out a black lace thong.
What an odd choice. As she pulled the thong on, she noticed something firm in the crotch. What the? She opened her mouth, and he shook his head no.
He set his glass of wine and two small boxes on the coffee table and pulled it closer. Resting his back against the sofa arm, he stretched out with his legs on the cushions. “Now sit here—silently—and we’ll watch the rest of the movie.”
She could feel the bullet inside her. The thing in the thong rubbed on her pussy as he took her hand and pulled her onto his lap. He leaned her shoulders against his chest, her legs between his. His thick erection pressed against her bottom, and her breath stopped. Then started. This was Master R.
He put her glass of wine in her hand and resumed the movie.
Five minutes. As she relaxed, she found she liked leaning against him. A rather lumpy chair rest, but warm. He had his right arm around her waist, and the coffee table was close enough he could pick up his glass of wine with his other hand. She told herself she wasn’t nervous—I’m handling this quite well, really—despite the quivers in her stomach and the way her mind kept replaying how he’d touched her pussy. After trying to sip, she realized her glass was empty. She frowned at it.
Even his chuckle seemed to have a Spanish accent. “You have no reason to be nervous…yet, sumisita,” he whispered in her ear and filled her glass. As she took it, he kissed her ear, sending goose bumps racing down her arms. And she was feeling the effect of the wine—not drunk, but…comfortable.
As he leaned back again, somehow he’d moved so the dark hair on his forearm tickled the undersides of her breasts.
On the big-screen TV, a man saw his wife on her knees, scrubbing a bathroom. He looked at her butt in the air and walked forward, his intent very clear.
“Perhaps you should clean the bathroom on your knees,” Master R murmured. The thought of him coming up behind her, bending over her… She took a slow breath.
He ran his finger over her naked stomach, making the muscles quiver, then reached sideways and picked up one of the little boxes.
The vibrator inside her came to life with a low buzz. She jumped at the weird sensation. Her wine sloshed in the glass, and his arm tightened around her ribs.
“It is not hurting you, gatita,” he said soothingly. “Relax and watch the movie. I will quiz you on the plot later.”
“What?”
That earned her a nip on her ear. “Silence.”
The vibrator buzzed inside her, making her…aware…but not rousing her nearly as much as the feeling of Master R’s arm so close to her breasts, his cheek resting on her hair, the sensation of his chest moving under her with each breath.
The buzz stopped, and she relaxed. Johnny Depp appeared, and the movie revved up much like her arousal. What did Master R have planned? She’d probably be okay with it, but damn, she wished she knew.
He set his wine down on the coffee table, and a second later, the lump in her thong hummed. It was a vibrator too, and oh God, it was almost against her clit. Her muscles tensed.
She froze completely when he reached around her, traced his fingers up her pussy, and resettled the vibrator directly on her clit.
Oh God, she couldn’t ignore that, not when he cupped her mound, pressing the vibrator into her. “Nooo.” It hummed on her, tightening her muscles, sending panicky feelings running through her.
“Yes.” He removed his hand from her pussy and took her wineglass before she spilled it. “Give me a number.”
Number for what? Fear. She started to speak, then remembered to show it, like he’d ordered. Six fingers—no, not really. A slow breath. Three fingers.
“Very good. Are you watching the movie?”
The thong vibrator stopped, leaving her clit tight, hard, as if the vibrations still continued. “Y-yes, Sir.”
His laugh rumbled in her ear. “Aren’t you a good girl.”
They were going to make love tonight. She knew it. Or maybe not. He was devious. She’d expected him to take her in bed the last two nights, and he’d held off, teasing her in the pool one night, on the shore the next. Leaving her scared yet aching with need and wanting more of his touch.
I want this from him. I want to move on—to get past being afraid.
He stroked her stomach, brushed his hand against the undersides of her breasts, trailed down under the black lace to her mound. Then lower, his fingers touching the beginning of her cleft. “You’re being very obedient, keeping yourself shaved for me. I like how nice and smooth you are, Kimberly.” His finger never moved lower, just teased the top. Her clit seemed to throb as if begging for a touch. His touch.
He took a sip of wine and set the glass down on the coffee table. The vibrator inside her came on, jolting her hips up. With his hand on her mound, he pressed her back down. His palm was on her pubic bone, and he fanned his fingers out, tiny touches over her pussy. The vibrations weren’t enough to get her off, but he’d turned the intensity higher.
“Ah, you feel it this time, don’t you, gatita?” he murmured in her ear. “Look how pretty.” His hand closed over her breast lightly, and she could feel the stiffness of her nipples. Bunched and aching. He ran his finger around each one.
“You are to be watching the movie, mi pequeña sumisa.”
Heat simmered under her skin as she tried to obey, but everything the actors did on the screen, even the way they bit into the chocolate pieces, made her hotter.
“Kissing you is difficult now,” he murmured, “but this will serve instead.” He rolled her right nipple between his fingers, and the edgy pain on the sensitive peak blazed fire straight to her pussy.
When Johnny Depp ate another candy, Master R rolled her left nip
ple. Kim moaned. Hunger pulsed in her bloodstream, and it sure wasn’t for chocolate.
The inside vibrator turned off.
She sagged against him, let out a sigh, but the thong vibrator started. “Damn you!” Oh, oh shit. “I’m sorry, Sir. Master. Please…”
“You are certainly grumpy at being aroused, aren’t you?” The amusement in his voice didn’t help her nerves any. Not knowing what a wicked sense of humor he had. “How should I discipline you, gatita?” His fingers tightened on her nipple in a stinging pinch, then moved to the other. Pain…need shot straight to her pussy. Her hips tried to rise, but his right hand stayed firmly on her mound, just above the vibrator. He fondled each breast, making soft circles around the areolae and then squeezing her nipples. Tugging. Rolling. He had her trapped, leaving her no choice but to accept whatever he wanted to do.
The vibrator hummed against her, bringing her up, teasing her, never quite enough. Nothing was enough. She was in his arms, being touched, using vibrators, and still not getting off.
She’d probably never get off again. The thought dropped her mood, and she sagged against him, her arousal seeping away.
His hands stilled. He kissed her hair. “Well, since you don’t like the thong, you may remove it.”
Her lips quivered, and tears stung her eyes. He’d given up on her too. Because he knew how hopeless it was.
He pushed her to her feet, stood beside her, and waited until she set the thong on the coffee table.
As he studied her, his gaze lingering on her breasts, she felt naked, really naked, because he was looking at her not as a servant, but as a woman. She followed his gaze and saw her distended clit poked out from between her labia, glistening with her arousal. A flush crept up her face, and she shifted her weight, wanting to hide.
The sun lines at the corners of his eyes deepened. “Since I intend for you to come tonight—and I do—and the thong doesn’t agree with you, I’m afraid you’ll have to suffer from my personal attentions.”