Chapter Four
Chapter Four
Shattered.
Sydney was completely and utterly shattered.
She collapsed into the mattress and dragged in several breaths. Even though she’d played with a number of Doms and had had a serious D/s relationship, she’d never experienced anything like this.
“Are you all right?”
“Fine,” she mumbled, wrinkling her nose as she struggled to regain her bearings, aware of him moving around the room.
Master Michael had kept her on the edge for at least an hour, and before he’d allowed her a release, he had demanded that she give everything she’d had to offer. The man wasn’t satisfied with her surrendering her body. He insisted she expose her innermost secrets as well.
When he’d left her alone for a short period, he’d uncovered a fear she hadn’t known she had.
Until tonight, she hadn’t been this vulnerable. She’d always been in control of scenes—setting the ground rules.
But Master Michael, with his gentle yet devious ways, went beyond simple whip-wielding. He’d succeeded in pushing her into a submissive mindset, something she’d always resisted.
After unfastening her, he rubbed circulation back into her wrists and shoulders.
“Stay as you are. I’ll be right with you,” he said, his voice rich and husky. “Not more than thirty seconds, I promise.”
Only after she nodded did he walk away.
She squeezed her eyes shut and focused on the splash of running water hitting porcelain. Then there was silence.
Breathing deep, she attempted to compose herself before dealing with him again.
Most times, after being satisfied, she’d thanked the Top, then headed home and back to her life. But tonight, with Master Michael, she was content to stay, at least for the immediate future.
And honestly, now that she’d seen Master Michael’s bare chest and the tattoo that matched the brand she’d seen on the sign above the ranch’s entrance, she wanted him naked and inside her.
His restraint amazed her. Though he’d had an erection for hours, he’d focused his attention solely on her. No doubt he had mad bedroom skills.
More than that, though, he’d backed up his arrogant statements. The orgasm had been worth waiting for. It had curled inside, an incessant demand that his strokes and ministrations fed, and when he had shoved her over the edge, the physical sensation had ripped its way out.
She wasn’t sure how much time had passed when she felt him sit on the mattress behind her. He was a big man, and the mattress was forced to yield to him, just as she had been.
“You’ll feel a little dampness,” he said.
He ran a cool washcloth over her back, across her shoulders. He lifted her hair to wipe her nape. Next, he lightly daubed her heated butt cheeks. She’d never been much for aftercare, preferring her own company and a shower, but this was luxurious.
“Shouldn’t have any marks tomorrow from my belt.”
“Then maybe you should have used it a little harder.” She turned her head to look at him. His eyes were narrowed, and she wondered for a second if she’d gone too far.
“You do like to wander into dangerous territory.”
“You knew that from the beginning, Sir.”
“Yeah. I did.”
After he helped her to turn over, he bathed her front, even beneath her breasts, though he didn’t remove the clamps. “So are you going to fuck me? Or is this good night?” she asked, repeating his earlier question.
He wadded the washcloth, then tossed it in the direction of his discarded shirt. He’d already removed his belt, and now she watched, transfixed, as he removed his boots and socks, then unfastened the metal button at his waist before lowering the zipper on his jeans.
He was already fully erect, and she arched her eyebrows when she realized he wasn’t wearing underwear. “Commando, Sir?” He didn’t seem the type. She’d expected tighty-whities or, at the least, boxers. Perhaps unfairly, but she’d judged him to be a bit staid, too polite.
She had another surprise when he was naked.
His balls were shaved, and he only had a small patch of closely trimmed pubic hair. “You, Sir, are totally hot.” Her rear and the backs of her thighs still felt seared.
She was beginning to notice the ache in her nipples again. The clamps hadn’t bothered her while he was playing with her, but now she was beginning to experience real discomfort. If he didn’t give her some attention soon, she’d crawl out of her skin.
He stroked his dick a couple of times.
“You were serious that you want to torment me.”
“Both of us,” he said.
He opened a drawer and removed a condom. He ripped it open and placed it on his cockhead. “Your turn,” he said.
“Sir?”
“Roll it down me.”
“Are you serious, Sir?”
“Use your mouth.”
“I’ve never done that before.”
“Happy to be your first.”
No doubt she’d underestimated him.
He knelt on the bed and cradled her cheeks between his strong palms, offering support, but also giving her no chance to pull away.
She opened her mouth and tentatively closed it around him. Since she was somewhat perplexed about how to actually accomplish his task, her motions were awkward. Still, this was enticingly erotic, and the idea of pleasing him made her giddy. He massaged her scalp as she worked, and he offered no criticism.
“You’re doing well,” he said, as she used her tongue to work the latex past his cockhead.
For a moment, she pressed the tip of her tongue against the spot under his shaft where she knew he would be the most sensitive.
He tightened his grip on her head. Encouraged, she drew her mouth up a bit then went down again, unrolling the condom a little farther.
“Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea,” he said around a gasp.
Gamely, she continued to try to figure it out, using only her lips as she worked the latex into place. Knowing it was driving him mad helped her enjoy it more, and she took extra time on the areas where he involuntarily jerked.
As he thickened, she increased her tempo.
“Enough,” he finally said, the word nearly a growl as he pulled away from her.
She looked up at him.
Her in-control, take-charge Dom had his jaw clenched. His rich green eyes were narrowed, and perspiration dotted his brow.
She smiled. It hadn’t taken her long to bring him to the brink. “I was just getting the hang of it, Sir.”
“Oh, I want a blow job from you, and no doubt it will be world-class, but now is not the time.” With a wicked grin, he tugged on her chain.
She jerked at the sudden burn. “Sir!” It had taken only seconds for him to regain control.
“I want you on all fours.”
At least in this position, her breasts weren’t pressed against the bed, and she was grateful for that small mercy.
“I’ve been fantasizing all night about having my hand in your hair as I fuck you from behind.”
The image filled her mind, obliterating all thoughts.
“And I’m going to put a finger up your ass.”
He hadn’t phrased it as a request. She knew she could refuse, but the idea had a wicked appeal to her.
He grabbed lube from the nightstand drawer, then placed the bottle on the sheet before positioning himself behind her.
Simultaneously, he slapped both of her ass cheeks.
The unexpected action shocked her. She might have toppled over, but he was there, his hands on her hipbones, steadying her. “Damn, Sir.” The momentary explosion of pain receded, lancing her with arousal.
Because he’d spanked her earlier, the sensation seemed magnified.
“Are you getting ready for me, Sydney?”
“More,” she said.
“More of what?”
She thrust her hips back toward him in silent plea.
Thankfully he didn’t make her beg. “That’s a good little subbie,” he said.
He tapped each cheek then spanked her harder and harder still, tanning her hide the way she’d craved, needed.
On and on, he went, until her thoughts swam. Her breaths were no longer shallow. Instead, they were long and further apart as she surrendered to pleasure.
Nothing existed but the sensual connection of skin on skin.
Before she was ready, he was rubbing her scorched rear.
“Are you with me, Sydney?”
His gruff voice came from a great distance, then he placed both his hands on her back, grounding her. “Yes, Sir,” she whispered obediently.
“Your responses are perfect.”
“No, Sir. It’s you.” She meant his treatment of her was the perfect thing, and she hoped he understood that because her tongue suddenly felt too big for her mouth.
Without responding, he parted her butt cheeks.
“Lift your rear higher for me.”
She maneuvered, but the position forced her breasts down. His ass-warming had distracted her, but now she was hyperaware of the clamps again. After tonight, she might opt out of having her nipples tormented.
Momentarily, he played with her pussy, making her slicker. His delicious spanking had already prepared her for him.
Master Michael placed the tip of his cock against her and began to ease his way inside, making her suck in a breath. He pulled back after the first couple of shallow strokes, driving her mad. “Sir!”
“So wet,” he said. “Patience.”
He might as well have asked the earth to stop spinning. She arched her back, trying to encourage him along, but this annoying man moved at his own—glacial—pace. She told herself not to be frustrated—after all, he’d made sure their time together was memorable—but damn, she was ready to have his entire cock in her.
“Give up the struggle.”
Since he offered no other choice, she attempted to school her mind.
He rocked his pelvis, going deeper with each thrust.
Sydney forced her fingers apart. And when she took his advice, the slow fuck became more enjoyable.
“That’s it,” he said.
She became aware of all the sensations, the way his length filled her and the way his girth stretched her.
Once more, his work-hewn hands were on her buttocks, parting the globes. His thrusts slid her breasts back and forth on the mattress, and the resulting pain shot straight to her pussy. On its journey it seemed to transform into pleasure, and an orgasm began to unfurl. “Sir, that’s… I’m struggling for control.”
“Take your climax,” he told her, his voice enveloping her. “From here on, you don’t need permission.”
His earlier denial made his change of heart more empowering, and his words unleashed her.
He continued his unhurried pace.
It was enough.
She arched her back more, flattening her breasts, and offering herself to him. He sank in deep, and he moved his grip to her hip bones, holding her in place.
“Come,” he whispered. He pulled back then surged forward.
She cried out as the orgasm pulsed through her.
“Ride it,” he instructed.
She shuddered against him, prolonging the thrill.
“That’s it,” he whispered. “That’s it…”
Once the shocks had subsided, the sound of something wet reached her, and she suspected he’d squirted out a dollop of lube. Reflexively she squeezed her lower body. Then he pressed something cold against her anus.
“Open your ass for me.”
Helplessly, she drummed her fingers on the bed.
“I mean it.”
He reached beneath her to pinch the side of her breast, then the bastard took advantage of her shift to insert the tip of his finger into her rectum. “It will be better than you’re expecting,” he promised.
She had her doubts.
Master Michael was focused on the pursuit of what he wanted. He moved his left arm beneath her hip bones to support her weight as he eased his cock into her pussy and slid a finger in and out of her rear.
“Imagine what it will be like when you have a fat plug there.”
Frantically, she shook her head. “No way, Sir.”
“I love it when you tell me no, little sub.” He laughed. “Makes your inevitable yes all the sweeter.”
Her temporary Dom put a finger all the way up her, seating it to the knuckle. Then, as she gasped, he fucked her with it, twisting his finger as he pushed in. He stuffed her, leaving her feeling overly full.
Still, the sensation wasn’t nearly as bad as she’d feared, and within less than a minute, her normal thirst to experience something new reasserted itself.
“What do you think, Sydney?” Instead of waiting for a response, he did her, hard.
Pain from the clamps, combined with the exhilarating thrill of the anal penetration and the pounding from his thick dick, created a dizzying rush of excitement that she’d never experienced before.
He left her breathless.
She cried out an orgasm, but he kept going, never acknowledging or slowing down. As a Dom, he overwhelmed her. She was grateful for his arm beneath her, supporting her, since she wasn’t sure she could have held herself up.
She’d thought the orgasms up until now had been exquisite, but this was beyond anything she’d hoped for.
“Damn,” he muttered. “Your pussy is tight on me. So, so good.”
Then he was at her rear again, forcing her sphincter wider as he added a second finger. “I can’t take that much,” she protested.
“You can. You will.”
She did, and she was grateful for it. Going beyond her self-imposed limits was more incredible than she’d thought possible.
He continued his relentless onslaught, and she came again and again until it became like an out of body experience.
It seemed an incredible amount of time later when she felt a change in his rhythm. A sense of feminine power crept over her when he gave a guttural moan. “Come, Sir,” she said. “Deep in me. Give it to me.”
With the arm he had beneath her, he powerfully lifted her lower body off the mattress, owning her as he gave a final few jerky motions before pulsing inside her.
“So hot, Sir.”
“Fuck.”
As he convulsed in her, she smiled. Who is dominating whom?
He held her for several moments before slowly withdrawing his fingers and cock from her. Her heartbeat started to return to normal.
Eventually she exhaled a shaky breath. “Well, Sir…” She left the sentence unfinished as she had no words.
“Stay as you are,” he said. “Just a few seconds.”
Before she had fully realized that he was gone, she heard water running in the en suite. He was back right away with a washcloth to cleanse her. Then he pressed the warm towel against her rear, soothing the ache there.
“Your ass is presented so prettily. Maybe I’ll keep you in this position for a while longer.”
“That’s a horrid suggestion.”
“Excuse me?”
“Horrid, Sir.”
He chuckled, proving he’d taken no offense.
Then he helped her onto her back. “Now for the clamps.”
Michael Dayton was sinfully handsome. His face was all hard angles, and his bright green eyes missed nothing.
Once more, very deliberately, he took hold of the chain and yanked.
The pain paralyzing her, she whimpered. He placed a hand on her mound, slapped her hard, then masturbated her to another completion.“God!”
“Turns out I like the unexpected as much as you do,” he explained with a wolfish grin.
She narrowed her eyes at him.
“You may thank me at any time.”
Her manners had been remiss. “Thank you, Sir.” How much she meant the words surprised her. She had figured his climax had signaled the end of their encounter, so the additional orgasm left her dazed.
Only then did he sit next to her to remove the clamps.
She appreciated the paradox of him. Big and strong, but gentle and caring.
Like he had earlier, he alleviated the anguish of the blood rushing back in by immediately putting his mouth on her flesh and gently sucking. “Thank you for your consideration, Sir.”
“I’ll always take care of you, Sydney.” He dropped the clamps on the nightstand. “Would you like a shower?”
She hesitated. This was the moment she’d dreaded. They both knew he wasn’t just asking if she wanted a shower. He was inviting her to stay. She wasn’t big on the morning after. Yet she was reluctant to leave him.
Patiently he waited, never pushing her.
Rationalizing that she’d be fresher tomorrow for the drive back, she replied, “Yes. I think I would. Thank you, Sir.”
“I was hoping you’d say that.”
Before she could respond, he scooped her from the bed.
“I can walk,” she protested, but the words sounded weak, even to her.
“No doubt.”
Other than that, he didn’t acknowledge that she’d spoken. He carried her into his bathroom.
“Good grief,” she exclaimed when he placed her feet on the tiled floor. “This isn’t what I expected.”
“I took out a bedroom so I could have a little space.”
“A little space?” she repeated, looking around. “I’ve stayed in hotel rooms smaller than this. Recently, even.” Though his en suite was huge, it was still in keeping with the rest of the house. Thin planks of aspen or pine—she wasn’t sure which—angled across the walls. A sandstone vanity had dual sinks with wall-mounted faucets. The room had several mirrors, one full-length. And oval-shaped princess-looking mirrors above the sinks actually tilted.
Wooden shelves held thick towels and even a few candles.
His large shower was tiled in glass. But the focal point of the room was a picture window that occupied the space above a soaker tub. “Do you bring a lot of women here?” she asked. It bothered her how much his answer suddenly mattered.
“The tub is for me. Nothing better for sore muscles.”
“You didn’t answer my question.”
He folded his arms across his chest. “Does it matter?”
It shouldn’t.
After all, she wasn’t looking for anything other than a thrilling ride, and he was a Dom—a damn good one. No doubt subs lined up for his attentions.
“No woman, except my sister, has been in this house since my ex walked out.” He brushed his thumb pad across her lips. “Would you like me to run you a bath or start the shower?”
She frowned at him. “Doms aren’t supposed to do that kind of thing.”
“Being a Dominant doesn’t mean you’re an asshole.”
In her experience, it sure as hell had.
“Every person in a D/s dynamic gets to define their own relationship. I don’t anticipate you’d ever stop being who you are. Nor would I want you to. Similarly, I demand respect, courtesy, and communication. And I’ll give you all of that in return.”
When she’d hooked up with Lewis, she’d been young and naive. In the beginning, she’d thought the lifestyle was about play parties, being tied up, getting her kink on.
But once his collar had been locked around her neck, everything had gone horribly wrong.
Master Michael was a rugged individual with his own ideas, something she might have once been interested in, but that now terrified her.
She’d never be a twenty-four seven sub again.
“Bath? Shower? Or I can use the back scrubber as a paddle.”
The long piece of wood hung from a peg in the wall. The implement looked like an oversize hairbrush, and it had definite potential for a harsh spanking.
Still, she didn’t move.
“Right, then,” he said.
Her mouth fell open as he grabbed the scrubber.
“Bend over the bathtub.”
“Are you serious?”
He smacked the back end of it against his left palm, making her jump.
“Bend over the bathtub.”
“My butt is already sore, Sir.”
“You will regret making me repeat myself.”
She debated using a safe word, but she wanted the experience. There was no doubt he’d seen that in her eyes.
Assailed by nerves, she slowly moved into place, her fingers forming a death grip on the tub’s edge.
“Wait.”
“Sir?” She pushed herself upright and turned to face him.
His eyes had a gleam she didn’t recognize. A part of her was frightened. A bigger part of her made her stand her ground.
“Stand up straight and spread your legs.” He moved his hand much lower on the handle and turned over the scrubber so the bristles pointed up.
“Oh, no. No way.” She shook her head. “Absolutely not, Sir.”
“Tur-tle?” He broke the word into two syllables—on purpose, she was sure, returning her earlier goading. “Say it.”
“No.”
“Then safe word or spread your legs and put your hands behind your neck.”
She looked at the pokey points, then at his face.
His eyes held a devilish, but not malicious, gleam.
Reassured, she did as he demanded.
“Don’t hump it like a naughty little subbie.”
“As if, Sir.” She kept her head tipped back so she could look at him.
He dropped his gaze to her crotch.
She gulped as he touched the bristles to her tender pussy. For the first time, she wasn’t sure she could follow his command.
In an achingly gentle motion, he moved back and forth.
“Oh!” Despite her trepidation, she liked this. She rose up, giving him greater access.
“I hope you learn to trust me,” he said, his mouth near her ear.
He exerted a small amount of pressure but continued to stroke her with exquisite slowness.
An orgasm teased her, remaining just out of reach. “I’m shocked, but I might be able to come.”
“What do you need for that to happen?”
“Maybe a little more stimulation.”
“Before or after the paddling on your ass?”
“Sir! This isn’t instead of a spanking?”
“No,” he said. He reached his free hand between her legs and spread her labia. “This is in addition to the spanking. Like whipped cream with an Irish coffee.”
At his increased pressure, she slammed her heels onto the floor. “Yow, Sir!”
“Come any time.”
She leaned forward into him, and he adjusted his stance to support her. Lost, she closed her eyes. Everything tingled.
Bending her knees, she rocked back and forth.
“You’re humping it, you naughty girl.”
She was gone. Trembling, she climaxed.
He moved without her realizing it, wrapping an arm around her waist. “You’re an insatiable wench.”
“You bring it out in me.”
He pulled the implement away, leaving her aflame in the most fabulous way.
Before she was thinking straight, he turned her back around and bent her over the tub once more.
“Hold on tight. You’ll need to.” His tone held a diabolical note. “Keep your legs together. I’m going to start just above your knees and work my way up. If you need to flex, do so, but as soon as you can compose yourself, resume the position I specified.”
Fighting the delirium caused by his words, she braced herself.
“Repeat what I said.”
She looked over her shoulder.
Gently, he tucked strands of her hair behind her ears. “You said, Sir, that I should keep my legs together.” How could he be so perfect? There was a tenderness in his tone that was at odds with his stance and the fact that he held the punishing wooden brush. “You’ll start at the bottom and work your way up. If I get out of position, I should get back in as soon as I can.”
“Close enough.” He lowered his hand.
The first spank seared. The second was a lot more powerful. The third, on a fleshier part of her leg, was higher and harder.
He knew how to give her what she wanted. How to inflict pain with deliberate intensity. How to keep her guessing.
The one under her buttocks forced her to lift up. She closed her eyes, waited for the pain to settle then re-gripped the tub. While he wasn’t letting her be in charge, he allowed her to set the pace.
“Last one.”
She tightened her cheeks, expecting it to blaze. She waited and waited. But it didn’t come. Finally, it dawned on her. He was being patient while she did as he instructed.
With great determination, she loosened her muscles. Only then did he lay the brush to her.
She sucked a breath through her teeth.
“Now your ass is a pretty shade of pink.”
“It matches my pussy then, Sir.”
“So it does.” He helped her stand and turn around. “Cool shower or a warm one?”
“One without bristles,” she said, dubiously eyeing the brush.
“Perhaps you shouldn’t have let me know how much you dislike it. I may keep one in every room.”
She considered a snappy comeback then thought better of it. Her rear burned. She wasn’t sure her skin would survive anything more. “A warm one, Sir.”
He moved across the bathroom to turn on the shower. After checking the temperature twice, he looked at her calculatingly before lowering the adjustable showerhead. “Your shower, ma’am. Feel free to use anything in there.”
“This is luxurious,” she said, stepping into the oversize glass enclosure.
At her condo, the showerhead was small and attached to the wall above the tile. She spent most of her time moving around beneath the pelting water, trying to rinse off soap or shampoo, and catching a chill wherever the uneven spray wasn’t hitting.
“Can I scrub your back?” he offered.
“Hell, no,” she muttered.
“I didn’t quite hear you.”
That had been her intention. “I said this is perfect as it is, Sir.”
“That’s what I thought.”
Steam billowed in the stall. She watched him move around the bathroom, clearly comfortable with his nakedness.
“Washcloth?”
“Yes, please.”
He handed one in, along with a fresh bar of soap.
“I figured you’d want something unscented.”
“Thanks.” She wasn’t sure she’d ever been in the same bathroom with a man before. When she and Lewis had cohabitated, she’d taken over the guest bathroom. But this man, apparently, didn’t believe in giving or expecting privacy. The thought unnerved her.
He draped a great big towel over the top of the glass door. Did he think of everything?
When he left the bathroom, she sighed and hurriedly washed herself. She was grateful he’d given her this bar. It was bad enough that she’d be sleeping next to him, inhaling his masculine scent. If she used his soap, at least a hint would remain on her skin even after they parted. And the last thing she needed was to be going out of her mind with reminders of him.
She used his shampoo and wished he had conditioner. The outdoor spanking followed by him wrapping his hand in her hair had made a mess of her locks. It would take forever to detangle it all.
After reluctantly turning off the shower, she wrapped herself in the towel. He’d left an unopened toothbrush on the counter. It was scary what an exceptional host he was.
In the bedroom, he’d put away the toy box, arranged the pillows, and turned back the blankets. And he was still distractingly naked. As he drew the blinds he told her, “I’m going to take a quick shower.”
“Do you have a T-shirt I can borrow, Sir?” Anything of his would swallow her, and she liked that idea.
“You won’t need one. I’ll keep you warm.”
“I don’t like to sleep nude.”
“Because?”
“I was in a hotel in Belize that was evacuated in the middle of the night, so I’ve learned to wear something to bed.”
“Sounds reasonable.”
“So, can I borrow a T-shirt?”
“No. But I’m willing to compromise. I’ll get you a T-shirt, and you can hang it on the bedpost. If you wake up cold or if we have a fire, it will be right there.”
She sighed. “There’s no dissuading you when you’ve made a decision, is there?”
“If you wanted to be with a man you could push around, you wouldn’t have come home with me.”
“That’s a warped kind of logic, Sir.”
“Regardless, I’m right.” Without another word, he headed into the bathroom.
She watched him go. She couldn’t remember having been around a man so annoying…and damn it, intriguing.
He left the door open, and the distant rush of water filled her senses. No. He definitely didn’t believe in privacy. But after all they’d already shared, what was left?
She used the end of her towel to squeeze excess water from her hair, then finger-combed the strands the best she could. There was a brush in the console of her car, along with a bag filled with extra clothes, a pair of hiking boots, and some toiletries.
Occasionally, she took impromptu trips, and once, while she’d been walking across a river in Wyoming, she’d slipped off a rock and fallen in the icy water. Having extra clothes and shoes had been a lifesaver.
Sudden silence filled the house, meaning he’d turned off the shower.
Less than thirty seconds later, he entered the bedroom with a towel wrapped around his waist. His hair was damp, making it look darker, and a few drops of water clung to his chest.
How was it possible that he’d satisfied her so completely, and she was ravenous again?
“Drop it.” He nodded toward her towel. “Please.”
Damn you. His politeness disarmed her, and his quick smile was irresistible.
Obediently, she released the fluffy material.
As he snatched it up, he gave a possessive growl. “Goddamn, Sydney. You’ll be lucky if I ever let you wear clothes again.”
He stalked to the closet, returning with a plain black T-shirt, which he hung on the bedpost. “Which side do you want?”
“The one closest to the door.”
“Easier to escape?”
Letting the silence speak for itself, she pressed her lips together.
Her sexy Dom climbed into bed and said, “Come here.”
She hadn’t spent the night with anyone since Lewis, and this was suddenly, overwhelmingly too much.
“I bite,” he promised.
Master Michael understood her, clearly. If he could make her smile, he would win.
Moving slow, conscious of their nudity, she climbed into bed next to him. “I don’t snuggle,” she warned him, hugging the edge of the mattress.
“Didn’t,” he corrected, dragging her back against him and holding her tight. “You didn’t snuggle. Now you do.”
He was hard and unyielding, complex, and faultlessly transparent. He’d seemed willing to negotiate and soothe her if it made sense, but if he believed she was being unreasonable, he’d state his case and wait for her capitulation.
In his arms, she felt safe and protected. That thought made her stiffen her body. She had been on her own since she was young, and she didn’t need to lean on anyone.
“Stop your struggle, little sub.”
He moved so that he could position his semi-erect cock between her buttocks. His thighs were against the backs of her legs, and he held her tight.
It had been a hell of a night.
A coyote howled in the distance.
No way would she feel at ease tonight, and she’d be lucky to get any sleep.
But, shocking her, the next thing she knew, the watery light of predawn was filtering through the slats in the window blinds.
She hated to admit that Master Micheal been right—he had kept her warm all night. Needing a few minutes to herself to sort through her turbulent emotions, she eased herself away from him.
“Sydney,” he mumbled. “Stay.”
“I’m not leaving,” she promised with a whisper. Unable to help herself, she turned and eased a curled lock of dark hair back from his forehead.
He appeared so different in the daylight, and in sleep.
His brow was relaxed, as were the hardened planes and chiseled angles of his face. His skin was golden from time outside beneath the Colorado sun, but right now the tiny lines grooved next to his eyes were less pronounced.
In his relaxation, his lips were slightly parted, and a jolt went through her when she remembered what he’d done to her with his beautiful mouth.
That thought was quickly followed by the realization that he’d exerted a dominant power over her that no one else ever had.
Restlessness churning, she climbed from the bed and reached for the T-shirt hanging from the bedpost. Then she noticed his discarded long-sleeved shirt on the floor near the closet. Giving in to temptation, she padded across the room to pick that up instead.
Near the doorway, she paused, glancing back at him. She thought he might have one eye open slightly, then decided that wasn’t the case.
So as not to disturb him, she tiptoed down the stairs.
Sydney exercised every day, yet her muscles ached. He’d kept her in unfamiliar positions for a very long time. Not regretting a single moment, she smiled.
In the mirror of the powder room, she noticed a few stripes on the backs of her thighs, and she traced one with her fingertip. Last night, he’d given her exactly what she’d asked for.
Generally, the morning after sceneing, she didn’t spend time thinking about the previous evening. After all, it was rarely worth the effort.
But with him…
Her pulse thundered.
Every moment was special.
In search of coffee, she wandered to the kitchen and found a pound of ground beans.
As the brewer slowly dripped into the pot, she wished he had a single-serve unit like she did.
Since she lacked the patience to watch it splat, she rooted through the cabinets until she found a mug she could carry outside. Then, tired of waiting, she pulled out the carafe and filled her cup.
A single sip of the dark brew told her why it was usually served mixed with half a cup of steamed milk.
Desperate to make the beverage taste better, she walked to the fridge. Though he had a half-gallon bottle of unopened milk, there wasn’t a single container of anything with hazelnut or vanilla like she preferred.
Wrinkling her nose, she pried the lid off the glass bottle and almost swooned at the sight of the pure cream on the top. For a moment—well, less than a moment—she debated saving the treasure for him.
But then she greedily poured it into her cup. She hadn’t seen something like that since she’d been overseas as a child. Ranch living clearly had some advantages.
Fortified with a more palatable brew, she slipped into the sandals she’d discarded last night, then headed out the back door.
The morning sunlight blazed down, unobstructed by a single cloud.
She saw the land in a way she’d missed last night. Off to the left were several buildings. One looked like a barn, but others she didn’t recognize. A corral was in the distance, though she didn’t see any horses.
In front of her, a vista swept out to distant mountain peaks, some over twelve thousand feet tall, a few soaring higher than thirteen thousand feet.
She called the picturesque town of Evergreen home and had seen a lot of the planet, but this sight took her breath away as nothing else had. The adventurer in her wanted to explore. A walk would definitely be good for her unsettled mind.
Enjoying the peace and solitude, she made her way down the path and wondered how she hadn’t twisted an ankle last night. Without Master Michael’s assistance, she would never have made it.
She opened the gate and delicately picked her way through the dirt and gravel to her car. After taking a sip of the coffee that was much sweeter because of the addition of stolen cream, she placed her cup on the roof then opened the back door and reached inside for her duffel bag.
The moment she curled her hand around the strap, she was shoved from behind and went sprawling across the back seat. Yelping, she pushed herself backward and turned, ready to fight, either Master Michael or someone else. He’d mentioned having ranch hands, hadn’t he?
Her heart thundered.
No one was there.
Then she heard a pitiful bleat.
She looked down to see the smallest goat imaginable. It looked like a baby. A kid, or whatever young goats were called. Then she recalled Master Michael telling her it was some sort of miniature.
Collapsing against the side of the vehicle, trying to steady her racing heart, she looked around, embarrassed, hoping no one had witnessed her attempt at self-defense against a tiny creature.
The thing cocked its head to the side and bleated again.
“Nice goat,” she said, moving away from the car, crisis over.
It moved in again.
“Uh…”
It butted her hand then looked up at her with wide, unblinking eyes.
Good God. A tiny terrorist was imprisoning her.
She didn’t know much—strike that, she knew nothing—about four-footed animals. Since it wouldn’t have fit her parents’ lifestyle, she’d never been allowed to have pets, not even a goldfish.
When she attempted to take a step, the creature surged forward again. “Back off, you little menace.”
It did, but only long enough to ram her again.
At a loss, she reached out and touched its head.
Chewie—if she remembered the name correctly—bleated once more, but this time at a higher pitch.
Looking around, hoping for someone to rescue her, she scratched behind its ear.
The goat turned its head, giving her better access. Then it made a ridiculous noise, like a laugh. Who knew it could do that?
“Aren’t you supposed to be in a pen or something, rather than wandering around?” The miniature animal shoved its head at her again, evidently because she’d stopped petting it. Could things be any more bizarre?
Still a little intimidated, she maneuvered until she could climb back into the vehicle. The tiny little thing tried to follow her.
With one foot, she attempted to keep it out.
But her sandal came loose, and the thief absconded with it. “Damn it! Bring that back!”
He—or she—dropped it. Then it laughed, picked up her shoe, and high-tailed it out of there. “Get back here, Chewie!”
She exhaled in exasperation when the petty criminal picked up steam.
Ranching, cream or no cream in her coffee, wasn’t for her.
Hurriedly, she grabbed a pair of lightweight hiking pants from her bag, worked her way into them then pulled on some socks and boots.
After tossing the remaining shoe forlornly in the bag, she went after the midget. The thing was nowhere to be found. “Damn it.”
Trying to pretend the footwear hadn’t cost a week’s wages, she set out at a brisk pace toward the river.
The walk helped burn off the frustration. Some of her friends used yoga or breathing to calm themselves. Physical exertion was the only thing that brought her solace. Scaling a mountain was significantly more helpful to her than a day at the spa.
The irritation returned when she remembered she’d left the coffee cup on top of the car.
Rather than going back for it, she allowed the sound of water to lure her.
As she stood at the edge, the river rushing over rocks, an eagle soared overhead, riding thermals, and soaring with hardly a flap.
The wide-open country offered peace to her soul.
Until a familiar and unwelcome bleat split the air.
The goat emerged from between two pine trees. And it didn’t have her shoe. “You really are a pest.” She sat on a large rock, and Chewie joined her. “I was enjoying this until you showed up,” Sydney told her.
Innocently, it blinked.
“Fine. You can stay. But I want my shoe back.”
It shook its head. Surely the timing was an odd coincidence.
She stayed where she was before finally giving in and stroking the beast’s spiny back. The short fur—or was it hair?—was softer than she’d thought it would be. The black and white creature had a few small brown markings and was surprisingly adorable, despite its bad manners. “Don’t get any ideas,” she said. “I mean it. Stop looking at me like that.”
Ears standing straight up, Chewie bumped her hand.
“You forgot this.”
At the sound of Master Michael’s voice, she jumped.
How had she not heard his approach? With a half smile, she looked over her shoulder to see him standing there holding two cups of coffee. “Bless you,” she said.
The goat abandoned her and went straight to him. Clearly even the goat knew who the master was.
He crouched next to her and offered her the same cup she’d abandoned on top of the car. As their hands connected, she glanced away.
Once more, he wore his requisite hat and had on a long-sleeved shirt much like the one she’d donned. He’d rolled back the cuffs, leaving his forearms bare. Faded denim jeans hugged his muscular legs. Even though it was Sunday, he looked ready to work.
“I see you’ve met Chewie.”
“And lost a favorite shoe,” she said wryly.
“Expensive?”
“Yes.”
He winced. “I’ll replace them.”
“Very expensive,” she amended. Then unable to help herself, she laughed. “I don’t wear them all that often. I have others.”
“I’ve seen some with spikes on the heels. They were red, as I recall.”
“I like red.”
“They’d look good on you.”
She brought her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “Maybe I will take you up on your offer of new shoes.”
“A woman can never have too many pairs.” Chewie wandered down to the water for a drink. “And I’ll take you up on yours,” he said.
Though his tone was still light, it contained a serious undercurrent. Puzzled, she took a sip of the still warm and very much welcome coffee as she considered him. “My offer, Sir?”
“The one where you get on your knees and suck my cock in apology for leaving my bed without permission.”
She jerked her hand, sloshing the coffee. “Ah…”
He took the cup from her hand and placed it on the ground. “Or the one where you pull down your pants, lie across my lap, and beg me to punish you for the same reason.”
Breath constricted in her chest. A serious line was drawn between his dark eyebrows. With a squeak, she managed, “Here? Now?”
The confounding Dom countered her questions with his own. “Or the one where I tie you to the fence and flog you?”
His words, his rough-hewn voice, and the lethal promise in his eyes crashed arousal through her. “Do I have to choose?” Her mouth dried. “Or can I select all of the above?”