Over the Line (4 page)

She was more than ready when he landed the first couple of strokes across her buttocks. Her skin was already warmed from his earlier squeezes and spanks, and these gentle strokes seemed to blaze.

Although he was nowhere near her pussy, arousal returned full force.

“I’d like you to thrust your ass out for me. And keep it there. If things get to be too much, I’ll notice by the way you pull away. When and if you want more, offer yourself to me. And you’re always free to use your slow word or your safe word.”

Before he was done speaking, she’d presented her rear end as much as possible.

He laid several more strokes across her heated skin, turning her inside out.

“I feel as if I’m going to come, Sir,” she told him.

“I’d like that.”

She tried to squeeze her legs together, needing just a little pressure, but the confounded man had been clever in his restriction.

He increased the intensity of his swings and she cried out, feeling the leather’s bite. This was exactly what she’d been seeking.

Despite her best intention of staying in one position, the force of his blows made her sway. But within moments, it was as if they’d found a rhythm that worked for both of them.

“Red is my new favourite colour,” he told her. “And now to add some to the backs of your thighs.”

She’d been certain it couldn’t get any better. But it did.

He used infinitely less pressure on her legs, but the lashing was just as exquisite.

Slammed against the railing by his relentlessness, she loosened her grip and allowed herself to move freely.

She wasn’t sure how long he continued—all she knew was that she was no longer thinking about anything but the moment. Being halfway upside down combined with the Den’s mountainous elevation caused a mild oxygen deprivation, leaving her unable to speak.

For the first time in a scene, she realised she wasn’t trying to set the pace or manipulate her Dom. She’d given him total control.

It took her several moments to register the fact that he’d stopped.

Her heart rate increased. She blinked to try to clear her mind.

“You did well,” he said.

He cupped her heated pussy and squeezed.

“Sir…” The word was a moan wrapped in a breathless plea.

“Come,” he said.

He scraped her clit with a fingernail and she screamed, jerking, trembling, feeling as if she were flying apart.

But he didn’t let her down gently. Instead, he inserted a finger in her moist heat, finger-fucking her while he put pressure on her clit. He kept it up until she was shaking, her hips pistoning. Orgasm after orgasm claimed her. And when she was convinced she had nothing left, he abraded one of the welts on her left buttock.

She arched her back, pushing away from the fencing, allowing him in deeper and unintentionally increasing the force of his touch against her clitoris.

Sydney screamed as she shattered again. She was breathless, overwhelmed, more satisfied than she’d been in months, if not years.

She gasped for breath. Her body was drenched in sweat, and her thoughts were scrambled.

“You’re about warmed up,” he said.

Warmed up?
Her knees sagged. It was a good thing she was bent over, otherwise his softly spoken words would have made it impossible for her to support her own weight.

She was aware of him unfastening her ankles then rubbing her bare legs. Although the touch wasn’t erotic, it sent a warm shiver through her.

“Stay where you are,” he instructed.

As if she could move.

Master Michael took control, tugging her dress back into place before he effortlessly lifted her from the ground, scooping her into his arms.

She prided herself on her strength, and she’d never been a snuggler. But he’d worn her out and she was powerless to do anything other than wrap one arm around his neck and lay her cheek against his chest. She breathed in his power and strength, and the pine scent of his soap. He felt…comforting.

He snatched up the blanket and strode towards the patio.

“My shoes.”

“I’ll get them in a minute,” he said.

Near the fire pit, he placed her in a chair then wrapped the blanket around her.

“I’ll be right with you,” he said.

She watched him return to the fence to pick up her shoes and the cuffs. Her strappy heels dangled from his index finger, and she wondered why she found the sight so sexy.

He returned to her and dropped the shoes and cuffs into an untidy pile before signalling for a server.

Master Michael snagged two bottles of water from the man’s tray, then uncapped one for her. As he offered it to her, he asked, “How are you feeling?”

“I…” She hesitated. She curled her hands around the bottle. Instead of taking a drink, she regarded him over the top. She generally kept her thoughts and emotions to herself. She had a few very close friends, some from college, still, but she chose how much she shared, even with them.

The wood in the fire pit crackled and hissed, and the light cast intriguing shadows over him. Finally, she settled for a non-committal answer. “You were right… You made me beg.”

He leaned over her, bracing his hands on the chair arms, and said, “That was only an appetiser, Sydney.”

They were so close, they breathed the same air. “Is that a promise?”

He pressed one of his thumbs to her lips. “Take it any way you want to.”

She shuddered.

For a moment she wondered if he was going to kiss her. But that seemed too personal. She blinked as he pulled away.

He used a booted foot to drag in another chair then he sat next to her.

She’d got so much more than expected here tonight, and she still had on everything except her underwear that he hadn’t given her back…and she’d yet to see him naked. He was right about one thing—what they’d shared had definitely whetted her appetite. Now she wanted the main course.

Although there were many other couples milling about, he’d positioned them so she felt cocooned, as if it were just the two of them on the vast acreage.

She sipped her water and noticed Gregorio and the Den’s owner, Master Damien, looking in their direction. Master Damien looked rakish. The cuffs of his long-sleeved white shirt were folded back, exposing his forearms. His hair was longer than it had been the last time she’d seen him, and she wondered how many subs, men and women alike, longed to run their fingers through it. To her knowledge, though, he played with no one. His history was an object of frequent discussion, but the man himself provided no answers.

Gregorio stood next to his boss, shoulder to shoulder. If she wasn’t mistaken, Gregorio was smiling.

A woman with incredibly long, dark hair joined him. A much, much larger man, apparently her sub, knelt next to them with his head bowed. Even while she talked with Gregorio, she kept her hand affectionately on top of her sub’s head.

The man cocked his head a little, looking up at his Domme. It could be her imagination, but the man looked peaceful in a way she’d never experienced.

“Mistress Catrina,” Master Michael said as if reading her thoughts. “She’s training a new submissive.”

“Training? They’re not a couple?”

“No. To my knowledge, Catrina doesn’t have permanent submissives.”

“And how about you?” she asked. When he didn’t answer, she glanced at him. The brim of his damnable hat made his expression unreadable. She wanted to see his eyes.

“No.”

The answer was abrupt and didn’t invite further questions.

Saying nothing more, he steepled his fingers and looked over the top of his hands at the fire.

“Never?” she prodded.

He glanced her way. “It hasn’t worked out that way.”

“You’ve never collared a woman?”

“No.”

“You’re an expert at one syllable answers, Sir.”

“If—when—appropriate, Ms Wallace, I’ll have no secrets from you.”

“Oh?”

He turned to face her. “And you’ll have none from me.”

She shivered a little, despite the fire, despite the blanket, despite the leather dress.

“So, little sub, is this goodnight?” he asked. “Or would you like to come home with me?”

Little sub?
No one had called her that before. And truthfully, if they had, she might have run, or as forcefully as possible let them know it wasn’t acceptable. She liked a bit of adventure with her sex. But submission? That really wasn’t her thing. As an occasional part of the act, it was fine. But she wanted nothing more, and if they continued, she’d have to make sure she set him straight about that.

Still… There was something about the way he said those words—tinged with a roughened, raw huskiness—that made them palatable. They sounded like a term of endearment, and that made something forbidden uncurl within her. “What do you have in mind?” If he was offering another ride on this extremely emotional and physical rollercoaster, she was intrigued.

She was sexually satisfied, but the husky tone of his voice and her wild imagination were enough to interest her again. He’d piqued that insatiable need in her, the one that left her restless, always wanting to know what else was out there.

“I haven’t seen you naked.” He swept his gaze down her body. “I haven’t had you on your knees. And I haven’t tormented your nipples.”

Damn.
“I have very sensitive nipples, Sir.”

“Do you?” he asked, sounding unconcerned. “Then having me drag you onto your toes by them will no doubt be uncomfortable.”

The idea made her shift in her seat.

“So what will it be, Sydney?” he asked again. “Would you like to continue? Or shall we say goodnight?”

She noticed that his cock strained against the denim. Suddenly she felt hungry for him. She wanted him inside her, filling her again and again. She had to have a taste… “I’d like to continue.”

He raised his eyebrows. “Then address me correctly.”

“
Sir
. I’d like to continue, Sir.”

“At the ranch? Or would you be more comfortable here?”

Staying at the Den had numerous advantages. Gregorio and Master Damien would both look out for her. But she was curious about Master Michael and how he lived.

“I’m happy to drive to your place, if that’s best for you,” he continued.

“In Evergreen?” She shook her head. Not only did it not make sense for him to drive back towards Denver, but she didn’t invite men to her condominium. She liked her privacy, and she always wanted the freedom to get in her vehicle and leave when she was ready. “Your place is fine.”

He stood and offered his hand. She accepted it. Effortlessly, he tugged her up and held onto her hand far longer than she had expected. A protective part of her brain urged her to pull away. But the far more primitive, feminine receptors recognised his strength, power and masculinity. She couldn’t move.

“I’m happy to drive you,” he said. “Your vehicle will be fine here, but I assume you’d prefer to take your own car?”

“Yes, Sir.”

He nodded. “Just as well. I’d require you to keep your dress lifted, and the sight of your bare cunt would distract me.”

The things he said were an erotic thrill.

After releasing her, he folded the blanket and picked up the cuffs while she slid back into her heels. She half expected him to ask or even instruct her to carry them, but he didn’t.

His behaviour struck her as odd. It had been her experience that most Doms expected subs to act in specific ways. But other than his request that she call him Sir, he seemed unconcerned about anything else. He was a puzzle.

He nodded to indicate that she should precede him.

“I like watching your hips move and remembering the red marks on your cheeks.”

Earlier she’d intentionally tried to capture his interest with her walk, but now that she was aware of his scrutiny, she felt self-conscious.

“Sexy,” he said.

Master Damien detached himself from the group he’d been visiting with and met them midway across the patio.

Master Michael placed a hand lightly on her shoulder. Knowing she had no choice, she stopped.

“Thanks for your hospitality,” Master Michael said, accepting Master Damien’s extended hand.

“Always a pleasure. You’re leaving already?”

“We are.”

Master Damien raised one of his impossibly dark eyebrows and looked at her directly. “Is everything all right, Sydney?”

This was one thing she had always appreciated about the Den. Damien and Gregorio enforced the rules, and looked after the safety of all their guests. “Yes. Everything is fine, thank you.” Master Michael tightened his grip on her shoulder, and she said, “I mean yes, Sir.”

“May I have a moment with Sydney?”

“Of course,” Master Michael said. “I’ll be inside.”

She watched until he had entered the house and handed the cuffs and blanket to a perfectly trained sub. The woman extended her hands, keeping her gaze down as she moved off.

“You’ve never left with anyone,” Master Damien observed. “And Master Michael is not your usual type.”

She waited for him to say something further, but he didn’t. She marvelled at his patience. Master Damien was correct—she usually scened with Doms whose reputation she knew, men who would give her what she wanted without asking for anything more.

The instant attraction to Master Michael when she’d seen him talking with Gregorio had been something more visceral. She liked how tall he was, how broad, how focused and, of course, the fact that he was willing to form his own opinions about her. “He’s different,” she said finally. “Gentle’s not the right word.” She met Master Damien’s gaze and sighed. “But I can’t think of a better one. Measured, maybe. Calculated.”

He nodded. “Don’t underestimate him.”

A small shiver traced her spine. “Are you saying I shouldn’t trust him?”

“Not at all.”

“Then…”

“I’ve known Master Michael for eight years, maybe more. He plays by his own rules.”

She’d already ascertained that. During their brief encounter near the fence, he’d moved at his speed, not hers, but there was no doubt she’d got what she needed. Maybe more than she’d been anticipating. “Ah, I get it. You’re concerned for him, rather than me,” she said with a smile.