He twisted the belt tighter in his grip. In his position, he could see her breasts quivering, flesh flushed red around the strap from the constriction. His pelvis slapped against the marks on her ass, his balls brushing her thighs, kept close together by the hold of her jeans above her knees. It would make the climax more intense, and impossible for her to hold back her response. She was a screamer, his brat.
He'd never embarrass her in front of her family, but her willingness to be embarrassed, in order to serve her Master’s desires, putting those needs above her own dignity, did things to him he couldn’t describe, at least not in a way that most people would understand. He released the strap of the belt, knowing the buckle and prong would hold the tension, that stimulation. Sealing his palm over her mouth, his smallest finger caressing her jaw, he kept thrusting and felt the grip of her sex turn into a full convulsing spasm of release.
“May I…” She spoke in muffled desperation against his hand. “Please, Master…”
He made her keep begging, impressed by the trembling, near-violent effort it took her not to climax. He could push her past that boundary, give him another reason to punish her, but he wouldn’t. Not today.
I love you. “Come for me, Marcella. Come for your Master.”
He didn’t know why he didn’t say the first part aloud. Maybe because these moments were more primal. But he felt those three words, in every pounding heartbeat, in every stroke, in every second of her response, the screams he muffled against his palm. She bit him, hard enough to nearly draw blood, but he held in place, able to take any pain she gave him, almost as well as she took his.
He released right behind her, and he was right. They’d moved the chair a good six feet, so even if those in the store couldn’t hear her screams, they might wonder about that screech-screech-screech sound. Thank God the floor was already marked up; else he really would have been paying a lot more than a C-note to fix the visible marks. When he finally stopped pounding himself inside her willing body, they were inches from the wall. As Marcie dropped her head, her forehead rested against it. He tilted his own against the side of hers, breathing deep.
He knew what she’d meant, when she said she always wanted him inside her. There was nowhere else in the whole damn world he wanted to be nearly as much. Loosening the belt and letting it fall into the chair seat, he caressed one breast, soothing the marks the strap had left. When he teased a still taut nipple, he earned a tightening of her muscles upon him.
“I’m buying you that black teddy Dana liked,” he said. “I want to see your gorgeous tits spilling out of it. And the steampunk style waist cincher. I like the idea of tightening it so much I steal your breath. I’ll attach ropes to the metal links in the front and back and wind them around the spanking bench. Keep you there while I figure out how to mark your gorgeous skin next.”
Then he’d release her, strip it all away and bathe her soft, pliant body in his garden tub. Hold her as she slept in his arms, surrounded by the frothy bubbles that would moisturize and restore her skin from what her cruel Master enjoyed doing to it.
The thought sobered him. He slid from her, moving her so she could curl up in the chair as he hitched up his jeans and rethreaded his belt. His beautiful brat. He could see the pulse in her throat, like a bird’s. When she laid her head on the chair, his gaze followed the movement, the slight flexing of her jaw as she swallowed.
The way she watched his fingers buckle the strap made his cock twitch again, especially when she licked her lips in unconscious reaction. Insatiable. Just as insatiable as him. And yet…
He slid a fingertip along her bared upper thigh, where he’d intentionally wrapped the cane last night, more than once. “Should I say I’m sorry?”
“For what?” Her attention went to his face, her expression puzzled.
“For what I am. What I want from you so much.”
“Only if I should say I’m sorry for wanting it, just as badly.”
He held her gaze. “No. You shouldn’t.”
“Then neither should you.” Her lashes dropped, fanning her cheeks. “May I get dressed?”
In answer, he took her hand and drew her to her feet. He did it himself, pulling her panties up first, playing along the elastic of the legs, tsking over the dampness of the crotch before guiding her hand to his shoulder. It gave her permission to hold onto him as his rubbing over the sensitized petals of her sex made her sway and tremble.
At length, he pulled the jeans back over her hips, zipping and fastening them. Picking up her shirt, he threaded it back over her head, helping her get her hands through the sleeves. As he tucked the hem of the garment back into the low riding waist band, he caressed her hips and the lace edge of her panties once more.
When he lifted his hand to her face, her smaller fingers curled around his wrist. She turned her head to study his palm, tracing the bite mark she’d left there before she pressed her cheek to it.
“I’m happy and sad when the marks go away,” she said low. “Happy, because it means you’ll mark me again, because you like seeing them on my body. Sad, because I always want your marks there. I want to feel them when I move.”
He swept his thumb down under her chin and caught the chain of her forget-me-not pendant. “Maybe I’ll brand my sub. Over her hip bone, or in the small of her back. Or inside her thigh, so it will brush against her skin when she walks. And every time it fades, I’ll do it again.”
She swallowed, dipping her head to kiss his palm, where the bite marks rested. When she spoke, it was against his callused flesh.
“Thank you, Master. I would love that.”
Leaving the one palm against her face, he slid an arm over her shoulders, drawing her to him to hold her close. Now he said it aloud. Twice in one day. He really was losing his mind and heart over his brat. But there were sure as hell far worse things in life to lose.
“I love you.”
“I am officially worn out,” Rachel pronounced, sitting among a collection of small bags around her ankles. She’d picked out several seedlings at the EarthFirst gardening store, and hadn’t wanted the tender plants in the trunk. “Anyone else have somewhere they want to go?”
“Not me,” Cass responded. She had her legs folded up on the seat, feet tucked against her backside, her shoes on the floorboards, as she sipped a glass of red wine. “Lucas is grilling dinner for all of us and Jon is handling the sides. Since the weather’s so nice, we can eat out on the gazebo.”
A wave of approving commentary greeted that announcement. Ben didn’t disagree with the idea of a nice, thick steak, what he knew Lucas would have set aside for him, no matter their earlier razzing, but there was one more store to visit. Maybe.
He had considered throughout the day whether he should do it or not. Cass’s comments during their shopping trip had tilted the scales somewhat, but it was being with Marcie in that backroom, the way she looked up at him, her heart in her eyes, which told him the answer. Even if it made something odd jump in his stomach.
“Max, I have one more stop to make. The place we discussed.”