Obsession (32 page)

I tried to speak, then narrowed my eyes at him until he lifted his hand to remove my restraints. “You were going to show this to me?”

“Yes, someday.” He did this rolling thing with hips that had me squirming beneath him, the width of his cock stretching me perfectly, with just a hint of spicy pain.

“When?”

“I intended to show you this in twenty years.”

“Why that long?”

“So you’d know without a doubt by that point that your feelings for me are real.”

I tilted my pelvis so his slow strokes rubbed over my clit. “You didn’t order me to love you.”

“No.”

“But I do anyways.”

“I’m glad to hear that, because I’m beyond in love with you. You are literally my everything, Hannah. I can’t and won’t live without you. I think you’re finally beginning to understand just how serious I am about that.” A full-body shiver ran through him as I reached down to brush my fingers over where we joined together, my fingers sliding over his cock and my stretched labia. “You have no idea what your touch does to me, how it’s better than anything I’ve ever felt—and I feel it so much.”

I closed my eyes, unable to resist the pump and thrust of his body against mine, the tips of my tingling nipples brushing his chest as he worked me with the utmost skill.

“You know,” I panted out as he licked the side of my neck. “You didn’t have to hypnotize me to enjoy this. You are insanely good in bed.”

He rewarded me with faster thrusts that had my body growing more sensitive by the minute. “With you, I wanted nothing left to chance. I had to have you.”

“And now that you do have me, what are you going to do with me?”

“Keep you forever, of course.”

I sighed in delight as my orgasm cascaded over me like a flurry of sparks, the hollow feeling leaving my chest.

In his own messed-up way, Leo really loved me, and in my own messed-up way, I really loved him. We could probably put a team of therapists’ kids through college with all of our issues, but those crazy jagged pieces of both our minds fit perfectly together, becoming something better, stronger.

I wrapped my arms around Leo, the sensation of being completely embraced filling me as another orgasm hovered just out of reach.

“Come on, baby girl, come all over your Daddy.”

I did, and I did it with a smile.

Fifteen years later

Leo

On the stage, a dozen chubby little four- and five-year-old girls twirled around in a disorganized circle, their rounded faces intent on their moves.

Our middle daughter, Carla, twirled from one side of the stage to the other, much to her mother’s chagrin, and my, along with the audience’s, delight. Dressed in a glittering pale jade leotard and matching sparkling tights, Carla beamed a smile at the crowd as she did an odd dance move that utterly lacked any rhythm. Her black pigtails, the same shade as her mother’s dark hair, swung with her lurching moves that were an odd combination of tap, ballet, and maybe an aboriginal war dance.

Next to me, Hannah sighed in exasperation while the dance teacher corralled her wayward ballerina. “She must get her dance moves from you.”

I didn’t dare laugh as I looked over at her seated in a crappy plastic folding chair like the rest of the parents, watching our little dancing dumplings.

That was the name of the dance school.

Dancing Dumplings.

I shit you not.

But Carla had taken one look at the sparkling sign with apple dumplings in tutus on it and decided this was where she belonged.

Next to my always beautiful Hannah, sat our blonde eleven-year-old-going-on-thirty daughter, Tiffany, who was bouncing our fourteen-month-old daughter, Sage, on her lap.

“I don’t know, Mom,” Tiffany said with a smile, “I still remember the dance you did at Uncle Diego’s wedding.”

Hannah flushed and I couldn’t hold back my chuckle, earning a glare from my wife before she turned back to our too-smart-for-her-own-good daughter. “I was just showing people how to line dance.”

“Uh, Mom, usually when people line dance, it’s not by themselves.”

“I was improvising,” Hannah muttered, earning a laugh from both of us.

On the stage, Carla’s group was finishing up their dance and they assembled into a ragged line, dropping into awkward curtsies. Well, most of them did. Carla gave everyone a salute. I was really going to have to have a talk with Mark about letting Carla watch war movies with him whenever he babysat the kids.

Then she began to sing the national anthem at the top of her voice, pushing away her teacher when she tried to stop Carla, and I wondered if Ramón, who was recording all of this from the back of the room for Judith and Jose, was pissing himself laughing yet.

One thing my children did not lack was self-esteem. How could my girls believe they were anything but wonderful when they had literally an entire cartel of people who thought they were the cutest things ever? Hannah and I worked hard to keep the girls from being spoiled, but Carla in particular, with her mother’s big doe eyes, had learned how to expertly manipulate adults into being her minions. It was quite funny to watch, and it pissed off Hannah that I was not so secretly proud of my middle child’s ability to outwit and outmaneuver her Cordova uncles.

Unfortunately, that belief in herself also led to not-so-amusing situations like hijacking the dance recital.

As I shrank down into my seat, the other little girls on stage, a few of them Carla’s cousins, began to follow Carla’s lead as the teachers stood helplessly aside and followed suit, belting out the next verse.

Then Carla yelled out, “You stand up for the national anthem!”

Hannah covered her face as we stood, along with the rest of the audience, while Carla returned to singing the hell out of the song with all of her considerable, and off-tune, voice.

Grinning down at my wife, we sang along while Tiffany rocked Sage as she smiled up at her big sister.

Slipping my arm around my wife’s shoulders, I hugged her close and watched our little rule breaker run the show, already dreading the day when I had three beautiful young women, and the boys who would want to take them away from me.

God help the man who got Carla.

Hannah leaned up, her soft breasts and nicely rounded body pressing into mine. Motherhood had been good to her, giving her womanly curves that I couldn’t keep my hands off of. I wanted to have one more child, try one more time for a boy, but she said her baby factory was closed. I still thought I could convince her otherwise.

“I love you,” she whispered against my lips while Tiffany made revolted noises.

Hannah and I were an openly affectionate couple, much to our daughter’s disgust and my delight.

“I love you too, baby girl.”

She leaned up to whisper in my ear, in a voice I could barely hear, “And don’t think I’m not blaming you for this somehow. When we get home tonight, you get to wear the butt plug.”

“We’ll see about that. If you’re a good girl, I might—might—let you rim me,” I whispered back, the last of the song covering our conversation before the clapping began.

It helped that half the audience was somehow either related to Carla, or were our good friends. Of course, once our girls had started dancing, Ramón’s girls had demanded to do the same, then Diego’s. Fernando, the lucky fuck, had a pack of little tomboys running around his garage and giving him gray hairs, so he was busy taking them to karate practice and soccer tournaments.

Yep, we were surrounded by little girls, every one of us. That meant our lives were filled with an odd combination of guns and hair bows, assassinations and standing around shooting the shit while our kids got their faces painted at a local fair. We were fucked-up, but we were family, and we’d weather any storm, overcome anything life threw at us, because each and every one of us had amazing wives who loved us with every bit of their formidable hearts…and that made all the difference.

The End

Dear Beloved Reader,

I hope you enjoyed Leo and Hannah’s story! If you’d like to read about the other men of the Cordova cartel, please leave a review and let me know. Until then, thank you-as always, for giving me a chance to entertain you
.


Ann

If you enjoy your romance on the steamy side, and your heroes on the bad, check out
‘Ivan’s Captive Submissive’
the first book in my Russian Mafia Romantic Suspense series, ‘Submissive’s Wish’. Fair warning, it’s super sexy time
.


Chapter

Gia Lopez stood in a staging area for the submissive auction with a line of women covered in sheer black robes. Her long, light brown hair was twisted back into an intricate braid that was a work of art, but she desperately wished she’d gotten plastic surgery to take care of her big nose before agreeing to this.  The other women scheduled to be sold off with her were beautiful, each perfect and lovely in their own way.

She felt like a sparrow surrounded by peacocks.

While Gia possessed enough self-worth to admit she was cute with her dimples and big brown eyes, she’d never be breathtaking like the auburn haired sex-bomb submissive next to her. Gia had a slender figure from her daily jogging, but with her small breasts she felt like a boy when compared with the curvy submissive.

Why couldn’t Gia have gone after someone who wasn’t a pinup girl?

Mistress Alice, a tall, blonde Domme, walked down the line of submissives. They were gathered in what looked like parlor with all the furniture moved out. Elegant watercolors still graced the walls and a tasteful chandelier bathed the room in a low, golden light. The door to the room where the auction would take place was currently closed, but from her orientation earlier, Gia knew that on the other side there was a curtained area to hide them from the audience. Then, the scariest of all, a stage where she would be sold to the highest bidder.

Mistress Alice paused now and again to point out something she wanted changed with a submissive’s hair or makeup and took a moment to speak with each woman. Up at the front of the line, a few men in brown leather loincloths presented a nice visual treat as they were oiled up by a trio of giggling submissives.

Mistress Alice stopped before Gia and slowly inspected her from head to toe. When she spotted the gold barbells piercing Gia’s nipples through the sheer cloth of the gown, she smiled. “Lovely touch against your nicely tanned skin. The gold works much better than silver.”

“Thank you, Mistress Alice.”  Gia curtsied as she’d been trained and Mistress Alice’s gaze warmed.

The Domme tilted her head and studied Gia’s face. “You’re Mistress Viola and Master Mark’s girl from South Carolina, Gia.”

“Yes, Ma’am. Mistress Viola and Master Mark were my trainers.”

“Lovely couple. I met them once at a Domme convention in Las Vegas. They told me to keep an eye on you, that you have quite a temper and are very high spirited.”

Gia flushed and dropped her gaze. “I’m working on that, Mistress Alice.”

“Well don’t work on it too hard.” She leaned closer and whispered, “Some of us like a subs with fire in their veins. We like the challenge and the constant battle for your submission.”

Gia started as the other woman gently bit her earlobe before leaning back. “Am I understood?”

A soft rush of desire went through Gia and she licked her lower lip. “Yes, Mistress.”

The desire unfurled gently in her belly as she relived her training and how she owed her trainers a debt she could never repay. It had been a unique experience to work with Mistress Viola and Master Mark. Together they’d helped her start her transformation into the kind of submissive she yearned to be. They’d also given her glorious orgasms that swept the world away and left her existing as a being of pure pleasure. Not only did they train her physically, they helped her learn how to love herself just the way she was.

Mistress Viola was a plump, curvy, delicious armful of woman. By today’s standards she was considered overweight, but back in the 1950’s she would have been the ultimate in female beauty. Gia had yet to see a man who didn’t gravitate to Mistress Viola in a room, no matter how many other women were there. The fact that her husband, the more traditionally handsome Master Mark, loved her beyond reason helped more than anything else to make Gia believe that maybe there was a man out there that could love her just as she was and give her the confidence to become the woman she wanted to be.

Beautiful, elegant, and loved.

Well, she wasn’t loved yet, but she would be. She had faith her Master was out there, looking for her. The thought of him being here tonight, maybe waiting for her in the audience, sent an ache of longing through her. The practical part of her mind scoffed at the idea of soul mates and fate, but the romantic side of her nature insisted anything was possible.

A petite mahogany-skinned woman who reminded Gia of a pixie came up to Mistress Alice and knelt at her feet. “Mistress, Master Martin wishes me to inform you we have fifteen minutes until we begin.”

Mistress Alice nodded. “Thank you, Tilly.” She smiled at Gia, “Have fun, sweet girl. Whoever gets you is going to have their hands full.”

“Thank you, Mistress.” Gia bent into a graceful curtsey.

The pair went farther down the line and Gia tried to slow her breathing. The redhead in front of Gia turned around and gave her a warm and dazzling smile. “First time?”

“Yes. Is it painfully obvious?”

“Yep. First timers are pretty easy to spot. You’re the only ones who aren’t excited. My name is Iris.”

“Gia. Nice to meet you.” Gia smiled and smoothed her hands against the sheer robe. “I take it by your lack of panic attacks you’ve done this before?”

“Oh, yes. This is my third time.” Iris gave a dreamy smile. “After the first auction, I was bought by a lovely Dominant couple. At the second auction, I met my husband, who is also my Master.”

Gia tilted her head in confusion. As far as she knew, this auction was for single, uncollared submissives. “If you have a Master, why are you doing this again?”

The woman laughed and fingered her collar. “Because he wants to win me all over again.”

Gia couldn’t help a small stab of envy. “That's very romantic.”

A chime sounded three times, silencing all conversation. All of the submissives turned towards the sound, and the redhead leaned over to whisper into Gia’s ear, “Don’t freak out. Whoever you end up with is going to be one of the best Masters in the world. If you click, great.  If you don’t, then you will, at the very least, come away from the experience as a better submissive. Besides, all of the Masters have your fantasies available to them, and only a Master or Mistress interested in fulfilling your fantasies will bid on you.”

Gia laced her fingers together, trying to keep her anxiety at bay. She didn’t want to start shaking like a scared puppy. “That’s what worries me.” She lowered her voice and leaned closer to Iris. “I shared a bottle of wine, or two, with my girlfriend before I filled my form out, and I’m afraid the fantasies I submitted are a little more…frank. Let’s just say I was super honest about what my deepest, darkest desires are. Like, embarrassingly honest. When I read what I had already submitted the next morning, I couldn’t look myself in the mirror for the rest of the day without feeling like a pervert.”

Iris giggled. “Oh, that does sound interesting. Care to share what one of those fantasies were?”

A stern man’s voice rang out over the crowd. “Ladies, eyes on me.”

They turned and Gia recognized Master Martin, the man who ran the Submissive’s Wish Charity Auction and owner of this elegant mansion.  Tonight, the distinguished man wore a dashing black tux with an expertly tied red and black bowtie that nicely set off his greying hair. His presence filled the room and all conversation stopped.

Raising his arms, he smiled. “Welcome to the twenty eighth annual Submissive’s Wish Charity Auction. Some of your faces are well known to me as members, and others are delightful new additions to our evening. Whether new or old, I encourage all of you to make the most of the opportunities presented to you tonight. Allow yourselves to embrace your submission and give yourselves the freedom to enjoy the fantasies your Masters or Mistresses create for you without useless shame or misplaced guilt. For the next week, you will be at your Masters’ or Mistresses’ beck and call. You will find yourself challenged, pushed beyond what you thought you could endure but, in the end, it will all be worth it.”

A nervous giggle came from a few of the submissives and Master Martin smiled, then his expression turned serious again. “Let me take this opportunity to emphasize once again that your happiness is the most important part of this auction.  If you are purchased by someone that you do not wish to have sexual relations with you are by no means obligated to do so. The only thing the Master or Mistress that win’s you gets is your company. It is up to them to try to seduce you and make you fall under their wicked spell.”

Barely stifling a wistful sigh, Gia wondered if she was really ready for this. Yes, she’d submitted to Mistress Viola and Master Mark while training, but she’d never managed to achieve subspace. After listening enviously to the way the other submissives talked about it, she really wanted to experience it but, truthfully, didn’t know if she could. She’d tried with a couple of local Doms that she was friendly with back home in Myrtle Beach. While the sex had been great, she’d never even gotten close to achieving that floaty, orgasmic feeling the other submissives described. It made her feel like a failure as a submissive that she couldn’t get into the right headspace for her Dominants.

Hell, if whoever won her here couldn’t top her, maybe she should consider becoming a Domme.

Master Martin’s deep voice interrupted her dark thoughts. “You will soon be blindfolded and ear buds will be put into your ears so you cannot hear. We want you to focus on yourself, on your goals, on what you hope to gain from this experience. Not on what is happening around you.”

Gia shifted nervously and the air around her became charged and crackled with tense energy.

“Don’t worry about how you’ll walk or move around while blindfolded. You will each be escorted onto stage by an experienced submissive.” He looked up and down the line. “Any questions? No? Such a quiet and trusting group of submissives we have here tonight.”

Everyone chuckled, then a curvaceous dark skinned Dominatrix towards the back of the line raised her hand. “Master Martin?”

Master Martin smiled. “Our lovely Mistress Vivienne. What is your question?”

Mistress Vivienne smiled. “This girl,” she pointed to the petite woman with a riot cute dark curls in front of her, “is worried she may end up with some serial killer.”

The submissive flushed beet red and seemed to sink in on herself. Gia felt sorry for her, but she’d been wondering about that as well. Of course, this auction had been running for twenty-eight years without incident, and everyone had been highly screened, but all it took was one bad apple to end her life. Great. Now she was nervous and scared. It seemed like her brain would never turn all the way off and let her relax.

She liked being in control of her life, leaving nothing to chance or fate, but being constantly on her guard was mentally and emotionally draining. She hated not having control over what was happening to her, which was probably why she had such a hard time submitting. It took trust in the unknown to let someone truly inside your mind and heart during a scene and to totally let go. So far, no one had managed to breech the walls around her soul. That was fine, she was in no hurry to get serious…though it would be nice to have someone to cuddle with at night and wake up to in the morning. Someone to share holidays with and someone who would not only satisfy her physically, but also intellectually. She thought about being in some faceless man’s arms as they watched the sunrise over the Atlantic Ocean together and let out a sigh.

Master Martin cleared his throat and her attention returned to him. “As we have a larger than usual number of visiting submissives for this auction, I will reiterate what our members already know. There is not a single Master or Mistress out in the audience tonight I wouldn’t trust my own submissive with….though I doubt any of them could actually handle Mrs. Martin.” He waited for the polite laughter to die down before continuing. “Every single one of our bidders has gone through extensive background checks and have been members in high standing of their local clubs for a minimum of five years. While nothing in life is ever guaranteed, I take the safety of every man and woman here very seriously. Does that answer your question, darling girl?”