Dominance and Deception (30 page)

Halting in front of me, he moved the collar in his hand into my line of sight, holding it by the buckle end and letting the leather strip dangle before my eyes. My heart kicked—I hadn't seen it since he'd left me. I couldn't look away. Its silver studs and leashing ring caught the dim light of the lamps and shone enticingly.

"You're nobody's slave,” Pierce reminded me, his voice low and intense. “You're free to do what you want, go where you want, wear what you want...” He circled behind me, trailing a fingertip down my spine. “Come when you want,” he continued, and I shivered lightly.

"Now why would a little tease like you want to give all that up?"

My mouth was dry, but I didn't flounder, didn't hesitate. The answer was obvious.

"Because I need to be yours, Sir."

"But why this? Why not just be my girl?"

"It's not enough, Sir.” I needed something more than just a vanilla relationship—I craved it with every particle of my body. “I can't explain it. It just feels right."

He paused for a second before continuing, but I didn't look up. When he spoke, a fresh thrill tingled through me.

"You've been my colleague, my friend, my lover, my submissive. Are you ready to become my slave again?"

"Yes, Sir.” My voice was clear and strong. I'd never stopped being ready.

Pierce halted behind me and I tried to keep still, my body aching for him, and for the collar he held.

He pulled a lock of my loose, wavy hair and I gathered it away from my neck, smiling a little. The collar was cool against my skin and I held my breath as he dragged the strap through the buckle, letting my hands fall into my lap when he tugged the leather accessory against my throat.

I closed my eyes, feeling calm settle over me at my reinstatement. This was where I was supposed to be.

His hands dropped away and he moved around to face me again, encouraging me to stand. He met my eyes and my knees grew weak at the intensity in them.

"Little tease,” he murmured, his voice warm and affectionate.

I smiled and regarded him steadily, my world fully stabilised for the first time in two months.

"Sir."

With a sudden, sharp tug on my collar's leashing ring, he pulled me into a kiss—a kiss of repossession, of lust and most of all, love. I melted into his arms, submitting completely to his embrace, my mind clearing of concerns and fears.

When I was gasping for breath he broke off, his gaze predatory in a way I hadn't seen in too long. When he circled to stand behind me once more, his body pressing against mine, my eyes fell closed as I fought the urge to lean back against him.

I ached to feel his arms around me, but they remained at his sides. I could hear him breathing in time with me, matching my inhalations and exhalations perfectly, and my breath calmed and slowed, so now I was breathing with him rather than the other way around.

Pierce rested his hand on the back of my head, applying a little pressure to coax me into lowering my chin. Pliant and willing, I obeyed, still lost in the synchronisation of our breathing. He trailed his finger down the back of my neck, over the collar, down my spine as he stepped back to put a little distance between us. I still heard his breathing, as if from far away, and my brain seemed to tingle along with my skin as he smoothed his hands down my arms, took hold of each wrist and guided my arms behind my back.

I linked my fingers together, keeping my arms in position, and it was only then that he spoke, soft authority in his tone.

"You're mine... never forget that."

I couldn't reply—the submissive mindset had claimed me completely, and all I wanted to do was listen to his voice, to feel his hands on me. With a low, approving chuckle, he circled around to face me again.

"On the bed,” he growled, and I began to step back to obey. His finger hooked through my leashing ring again, and I gasped when he pulled me up short.

A moment passed as he held me captive, sweeping his eyes unguardedly over my body. I felt the perusal as if it was a caressing hand, and a light shiver ran through me. Then Pierce released the collar and I was free to sit on the bed, scooting back into the centre of the mattress and tucking my legs under me.

He stood at the side of the bed, regarding me steadily.

"You do exactly as I say, when I say it. Do you understand?"

At my acknowledgement, he sat on the edge of the mattress, beckoning for me to go to him.

With his guidance, I straddled him, and we both moaned softly as I sank down onto his thick, hard cock. For a moment, all power games were shed, and I wrapped my arms around him, kissing his neck as he pulled me tightly against his body. To have him inside me again...it was all I'd been dreaming of for weeks on end.

For long moments, we just held each other as lovers, hands skimming over bare flesh, our breathing unsteady as we adjusted to the heady sensation of being interlocked once more. Then I rocked my hips, seeking stimulation, and Pierce gripped my waist, restraining me.

"I tell you to move, little tease?"

"No, Sir,” I whispered, blushing at the loss of control. I was out of practice.

"Then don't."

With an effort I controlled myself, stilling my body's instinct to move and trying to ignore the hot pulse of desire between my legs, the distracting way he filled me. Our gazes connected and goosebumps rippled across my skin as I saw the frustrated desire within him. More than anything he wanted to give in and take me, and to hell with the scene—but I knew he wouldn't, because this was something we both needed to see through.

"You have any idea how much I've thought about this?” His voice was low, almost dangerous, completely sexy. “About making you mine again? Touching you? Tasting you?"

I trembled, his words intensifying the craving within me. “Probably as much as I have, Sir..."

"Yeah?"

He removed one hand from my waist to tease one of my nipples into an oversensitive peak, and I swallowed a cry, involuntarily squeezing my internal muscles around him. With a soft curse he captured my lips with his, kissing me without restraint, taking what he wanted.

When he pulled back, he growled, “Now look what you made me do... And I was gonna make you beg for that. Apologise."

I couldn't hold back the breathless smile as I spoke the words he expected.

"Sorry, Sir."

"Little liar.” He dealt a light slap to the outside of my thigh, well away from my newly-formed scars, and I gasped in surprise, heat tingling through me.

He watched me carefully for negative reactions, but the reprimand was symbolic, not painful, and I relished the gesture, leaning forward to initiate a kiss of my own as reassurance.

Pierce took control from me, covering my face and neck with kisses as I sighed my pleasure and tried desperately not to move my hips. His fingers drifted to my breasts again, tempting me, tantalising me, and I groaned frustration in the form of his name, pleading, almost begging.

"That's better,” he said, a satisfied smile barely pulling at the corners of his lips, and I closed my eyes, trying to calm down. That idea flew straight out into the ether when his finger circled my clit without warning, and my eyes flew open again at the touch. I found him watching me with amusement.

"Sir...” I couldn't help but arch against him, and he gave my collar a warning tug, reminding me of his order. Trembling, I tried to hold still, but I couldn't stop myself from clenching around him as his fingers went to work in earnest, and he nipped, in response, at the sensitive patch of skin just below my ear.

"Beg me for it,” he murmured, his mouth so close his words caressed my skin.

The plea spilled from my lips without hesitation, my voice huskier than usual. “Sir... please, let me fuck you, let me make you come... I need you so much...
please
..."

Though he acknowledged the words with a soft laugh, he didn't let up on my clit, and soon my words took a different direction, tinged with desperation. “Oh, God, I can't take this! Permission to come, Sir?"

My muscles were coiled so tightly they were almost painful, my hands clutching his shoulders as I struggled to hold on. It seemed like an eternity passed before he replied, and by the time he gave in I was almost sobbing with frustration.

"Come for me, little tease..."

With relief, I stopped holding back, crying out sharply as my world receded, carried away on tidal waves of pleasure. Before the aftershocks had even begun to fade, I was disorientated further as Pierce overbalanced me, rolling me off his lap and onto the bed.

He began to take me, his lips finding mine again in a fierce kiss. I wrapped myself around him, sighing encouragement as the pleasure began to build again. My fingernails digging into his back, moving in time with his rough, deep thrusts, I forgot to breathe, willing my body to give in to the impending orgasm. As Pierce drove into me a final time, spilling himself with a satisfied growl, I followed him into oblivion with a gasp, my parted lips grazing his skin.

Breathing hard, he drew me into his arms, dropping a light kiss on my forehead. I stretched out my fingers over his heart, feeling the pounding rhythm of the organ begin to slow. He hooked one of his own fingers through the leashing ring on my collar, tugging a little.

"Mine..."

"Yours, Sir,” I agreed breathlessly, tilting back my head to get a better look at him. “Even if you did take your time proving it."

His response was another light, reproving slap, this time to my hip. I laughed softly and closed my eyes, riding a wave of pure contentment.

Maybe I would never work my way back up to the full, physical D/s scenes I used to love. Maybe I would. Either way, as I lay there, in that moment, I felt my focus shift from the anguish, doubt and horror of the past two months to the warmth and loving comfort of the present.

I was back where I belonged—owned, collared, and in the arms of my Dom. The past was past—that chapter of my life was behind me. Over with. Ended.

Acta est fabula.

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Amy Valenti hails from England, which she doesn't find quite as sexy as the average US citizen seems to, but if people want to compliment her on her accent, that's all fine with her! She loves to create American protagonists, since she grew up reading Patricia Cornwell, Dean Koontz and trashy nineties teen horror.

She has a degree in creative writing, currently works in internet marketing and moonlights as a proofreader/copy editor. In her free time, she reads, writes and plays video games. On the rare occasions she doesn't have a laptop on her knee, she loves to curl up with friends and pets—and chocolate—for TV show and movie marathons.

Email: [email protected]

Amy loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at www.total-e-bound.com

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