She shivered and he chuckled softly. He loved to draw out her pleasure. Tease her mercilessly. He was hard. No doubt about that. He was ruthless, even. But he was fair and a generous lover. He knew what pleased her and never hesitated to give her what she needed.
Were their needs not so closely aligned, perhaps it would be a different matter. Perhaps he wouldn’t be as generous as he was. But they craved the same things. Him taking his pleasure spurred her own.
The smack of his hand against her behind startled her from her sensual thoughts. Fire licked up her spine when he followed the first blow with another in rapid succession.
He alternated splaying his fingers and keeping them tightly held together so the sensation was different each time he struck her flesh.
She moaned and stirred restlessly but his hold tightened on her until she was powerless to move and it only heightened her desire.
This was what she craved beyond all else. To be held completely in a man’s power. To know that she had no choice but to accept whatever it was he wanted to do to her. The knowledge was dark and edgy. It made her skate along that forbidden line where it was easy to fall off into complete darkness.
How far would she go? How far would she allow Lucas to go? She’d never answered that question. Had never entertained allowing things to go that far.
She trusted Lucas. Implicitly. But maybe even he didn’t trust himself to push beyond the tightly controlled boundaries they’d erected.
He continued to mete out the spanking, but it was a ludicrous word that in no way described the dance they performed. This was no spanking for an undisciplined sub. This was as sexual as f**king, more powerful than kissing.
This was where she got her high. Where she got so pumped on lust that she’d literally let him take her wherever she wanted to go.
She was barely aware when he pushed her to the floor, forced her cheek to the carpet and held her head down, his hand tangled in her hair.
He mounted over her—rough, crude, possessive—like she was a bitch in heat. He thrust first into her pu**y and then dragged his c**k out and up the seam of her ass. With his free hand, he applied a liberal amount of lubricant, but tonight she didn’t even want that. She wanted it hard. She wanted it to hurt. She craved the rough bite of pain when he forced his way past her unwilling opening.
His hand tightened in her hair and he growled low in his throat. “Open to me. Let me take what’s mine.”
As he knew they would, the words sent her over the edge. She arched up, desperate for his possession. He fit his c**k to the tight ring and pushed hard.
She cried out but he yanked upward on her hair until she quieted.
“That’s it,” he said in a harsh, low voice. “Be silent and take it. You’re mine, Ren. Never forget that. I own you.”
He powered inside her and held himself deep, cupped over her body, covering every inch of her flesh.
She trembled. Her entire body shook as she fought the orgasm that built like a hurricane.
He laughed and reached underneath to press the flat of his hand to her belly. He slid his fingers down to the juncture of her legs and lightly touched her clit.
She clenched her teeth, closed her eyes and willed herself to control the reaction.
He was a master at knowing her body. Knowing what she loved. He knew how to talk to her, what words aroused her. How hard to take her. When to be rough and when to be gentle.
His fingers slid even lower, toying with the entrance to her pu**y. He fingered her roughly as his c**k twitched deep inside her ass. Then he withdrew, dragging that huge erection over distended flesh.
She moaned again and let out a sigh.
“No, Ren, you don’t get to come yet. I’m going to f**k you for a good long while and you’re going to be a good girl and you’re going to take it up the ass and keep taking it until I tell you to come. And then I’m going to fill your ass full of my cum and you’re going to beg me for more.”
And she would. She closed her eyes. She’d beg him never to stop. He’d come inside her and then he’d go back to f**king her until his hot liquid ran down her leg. And she’d love every damn minute of it.
CHAPTER 3
Ren stretched and glanced up at the clock. She grimaced. It was time for a break. Lucas insisted she not work to the exclusion of all else. It annoyed her sometimes, but the simple fact was, that if he didn’t interfere, she’d forget to eat, wouldn’t sleep and would work tirelessly until she collapsed.
And well, she was in touch enough with her feminine wants and needs to know that she loved that he took such good care of her. She needed that.
She put down the pencil she’d made preliminary sketches with, carefully pushed her drawings into an orderly pile and closed her sketchbook so the weight would prevent them from falling out.
Deadlines had little meaning to her. Once she got inspiration for the story she wanted to tell and the images began dancing in her mind, she was driven to work until the book was completed. Often that meant finishing well ahead of her deadline. It was an illness, this compulsion to be early. But it was who she was and it served her well in her career as an author of children’s books.
Rennie Michaels. A slight variation of her real name. It sounded light and fun and on the level with the children who she wrote for.
She got up from her desk and rubbed absently at a kink in her neck. When she looked up, to her surprise, Lucas was leaning against the doorframe, his lazy gaze stroking lightly over her body.
He didn’t often come into her studio. It was the one place that was hers. It was provided by him and he insisted that she be able to maintain her privacy here. Anywhere else in his home, she was his. There was no privacy. She belonged to him and he could intrude at will. But here was her work place and her place to be alone with her thoughts. It was off limits to him, a condition he himself had put into place.
She stood still, unsure of what he wanted her to do.
He pushed off the doorframe and walked into her studio, hands shoved into his jeans pocket. He was barefooted, as he typically was in his home. For a man as wealthy and cultured as he was, in his private sanctuary he was a creature of comfort, usually in well-worn jeans, a T-shirt and sometimes flip-flops.
“We’ve received an invitation,” he said when he stopped in front of her.
She arched one eyebrow. She didn’t know anyone here. She and Lucas had met in his Las Vegas nightclub a year ago. She’d been out of sorts because her last relationship had been a complete disaster and he’d been an immediate source of security. He’d taken her home with him that night and they’d been together ever since.