Safeword Interrupted (The Cattail Club Book 1) (15 page)

He gave her a wicked smile at the same time he gave a lazy roll of hips. She jerked as another wave of pleasure burst along her nerve endings. “Never, but you’ll be too sated to complain. In fact, I’m going to take you so thoroughly you won’t be able to do anything other than cling to me, by the time I’m done.”

Her head dropped against his shoulder and she whimpered as he continued to push her higher. There was no doubt in her mind that her master would be true to his word. He spent the long morning hours, tenderly, repeatedly fucking her until she fell asleep in his arms.

.

Chapter Nineteen

Three Weeks Later

"Sir?" Bethany yawned around the word as she rolled off Deacon's couch. It'd been nearly two months since they'd found out that she was pregnant, and while they hadn't completely moved in together, Bethany found herself spending more and more time at Deacon's old farmhouse rather than her quaint ranch-style house.

"In here." Deacon's voice echoed down the hallway from his den - or man cave as she liked to call it. The only thing missing was a pool table - and that was actually in the renovated barn about a hundred feet from the house.

She wandered down the hall, her bare feet making little noise on the cool hardwood flooring. Just before she reached the door, she stripped off one of Deacon's comfortable cotton t-shirt and let it fall to the floor. Maybe she could interest him in a quickie before they headed to the club this afternoon. A smile tugged at her lips when her panties joined the shirt.

Perhaps a spanking when he realizes I raided his stash of goodies.

She gave one of the pilfered nipple clamps a quick flick. Both pain and pleasure surged through her system. She so loved the bite of the clamps and knew from past experience that she could easily come from having them tugged on.

Especially if my Dom would get the stick out of his ass and do it. I won’t fucking break from a little judiciously rough sex. I’m pregnant - not dying.

She sighed in frustration. She truly loved Deacon, but ever since they'd made up from their huge fight, he’d acted like the too-perfect boyfriend. He'd gone to her doctor appointments, had made sure she had plenty of his mother's tea on hand for her damned morning sickness – hell, he’d even rubbed her aching feet at the end of her shifts at the bar.

Of course, the foot rubs are probably just a means to end. He wants me to set a date and figures I’ll give in sooner than later if he proves he can be a good husband.

She should've felt cared for, but she didn't – instead it approached ‘smothering’. She enjoyed everything he did to her, but she missed her rough asshole. So instead of giving him the answer he wanted, she made plans, plotted, even acted out...all in hopes of luring her master out of hiding. She let go of the clamp.

Damnit!
Didn't he understand she needed him to be her Dom - to demand her submission and punish her when she didn’t comply?

God, I’m so sick of him handling me with kid-gloves.

Which is why she’d concocted this latest stunt in hopes that seeing the result of her sneaky raid into his BDSM toys would remind Deacon she needed her master in his Dom role. She required for both her emotional as well as physical well-being that he continue as her Dom, just as much as she claimed him forever as her lover and future husband. "You ready to go?" Deacon appeared in the doorway. He froze, and for a second she saw the hunger in his gaze - before he disguised it. "Seems like you're rather underdressed for our outing, sweetheart."

She gave him a hesitant smile. "I was hoping to coax you into a little appetizer before we head out for the club." She boldly reached up and tugged on the clamp - moaning as the jolt of sensation traveled from her trapped nipple to her clit.

He crossed his arms over his chest. "Topping from the bottom, sub?"

Chewing on her lower lip, she shifted from one foot to the other. "I guess." She gave him what she hoped was a playful but pleading look. "It's been almost two months since we've played at Cattail." She shrugged her shoulders. "And what can I say. I miss my Master's touch."

"Your master is right here." He drew his hand up her arm. "Touching you. Holding you close every night."

A whimper grew in her throat as his fingertips danced over her swell of her shoulder to trace the length of her collarbone. She wanted to feel his palm cracking down on the swell of her breast, or better yet her ass. "It's not the same."

He looked puzzled. ‘What do you mean?”

She nodded toward his lightly caressing fingers, frustrated as they continued to barely press against her. Hell, even a pinch would be nice right now. "It's too light - not hard enough - rough enough, Sir. I miss the Dom who flogged my ass over the kitchen table because I ran."

He tugged her up against him, and popped her on her ass. Her pussy moistened and she closed her eyes in relief as the pain and pleasure mingled.
Finally.

Then of course the stubborn ass had to go and ruin it.

“He’s not gone. But the rough stuff will have to wait until you’re not carrying our child.” He gently removed the clamps. “Like these…” He held up the silver clover-leafs. “They could damage your nipples – the same delicate flesh that our son or daughter will take nourishment from.” He tucked the clamps into his pocket. “Just be patient. After you have junior here, we’ll play.” He pressed a kiss to her forehead and turned away – walking toward his desk. “Now go put some clothing on. I have something special planned for today.”

She pulled back, frustrated at his refusal. Deciding to go for broke, she placed her hands on her hips and scowled after him. “No.”

* * * *

Deacon drew a deep breath at her refusal. He’d know this was coming. She’d been pushing hard for the past few weeks, wanting more than the gentle caresses and kisses he’d been giving her. Hell, he’d even sensed her growing restlessness, but had been helpless to find any alternatives to give her the cure for it. He had made a solemn promise to himself. No more kink until after the baby was born. But that didn’t mean he didn’t have other ways of dealing with his bratty submissive. He forced displeasure into his voice as he spoke.

“That wasn’t a request, Bethany.”

“So punish me.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Because I’m not going any damned where with you, unless it’s to the nearest spanking bench or club.”

He growled as he tossed the clamps inside the top drawer of his desk. “It’s not happening. I won’t endanger our child for your kink.”

She flinched. “My kink, Sir? Last time I checked you were a fucking Dom. One who used to love tying me up and punishing me before fucking me so hard I’d have bruises. One who couldn’t seem to get enough of our play – but now can’t bring himself to do more than half-heartedly slap my ass.” She crossed her arms over her breasts, hiding her pink nipples from his gaze.

He wanted to order her to drop them – to not hide his nipples from him, but resisted the urge – afraid that if he let even the smallest piece of his dominant side out, he’d have her strapped to the pillory in his spare bedroom, and begging for mercy as he flogged said lush ass. Mercy for both of them that he wouldn’t grant, despite any fervent pleas.

“Is it because of the changes our child has made?”

He flinched under the weight of her accusation. “Nice opinion you have me. Like I’m shallow enough to only find you attractive when you’re not pregnant, when in reality all that is keeping me from giving you what you want is my fear that doing so will hurt you or our child.”

She glanced down at the floor. “Shit. I never meant to infer that you were shallow, or belittle your concerns. Some guys just don’t find a pregnant woman sexually attractive.” She rubbed her hands on her thighs. “I know you don’t have that problem – it’s just I’m way beyond frustrated. I feel like a volcano – ready to explode at the slightest chance.”

She looked so miserable standing in front of him, her lush nude body hunched in on itself. “Oh, sweetheart.” He returned to her side and tugged her into his arms. “I know this rough on you.” He brushed a kiss over the crown of her head. “We barely had time to scratch the surface – then you got pregnant.”

She nuzzled closer, resting her head against his chest. “Yeah. Potent bastard that you are.”

He sighed and wrapped his arms around her waist – loving the swell of their child where it pressed against him. “We only have three or four months left. We’ll make it. In fact, I’ll even give you a boon during our first scene.” He slowly stroked her back.

“What kind of boon?”

He chuckled. “I’ll let you pick out the scenario for the first time we play.”

“Play?”

While she didn’t stiffen in his arms, there was a sudden stillness to her – as if she were holding her breath or waiting for the other shoe to drop. “You’re not gonna be ready for a full-on scene at first. I’ve read that new mothers are often tired and need to build their stamina back up.” He tipped her face up to his, then kissed the tip of her nose. “I promise I’ll take it easy on you until you’re back at full strength – but don’t think that’s gonna keep me from paying you back for every stunt you’ve pulled in the past three weeks.” He gave her bottom a light tap. “Now, why don’t you go get some clothes on, so we’re not late meeting Zeke. You know how cranky he is when people mess up his schedule.”

* * * *

“And he expected me to just quietly get dressed so he could take me over to okay the designs that Zeke had come up with for the nursery. Can you believe it?” Bethany slammed her palm down on the bar. Next to her, Chet made a sound of sympathy as he watched the ongoing karaoke taking place on the far side of the bar. Thursday Night’s Slamming Karaoke Parties had been a hit since Bethany had introduced them to the bar crowd nearly three years ago. It was one trend that Deacon absolutely abhorred. But he didn’t complain too loudly when he tallied up the sales receipts at the end of the night. Instead he camped out in his office with headphones on, did paperwork or played God of War on his computer.

“Oh the horror of it.” Chet pressed the back of his hand against his forehead in a mock Scarlet O’Hara gesture. “How dare he spend a fortune on furniture for the baby, when its mother’s in dire need of a hard fuck!”

She grabbed for the wet rag off the bar. “Don’t make me use this, smart ass.”

Chet dropped his hand. “Whoa, killer.”

She sighed and dropped it back on to the bar. “It’s not just the fact he’s refusing to scene with me that’s driving me nuts. It’ the fact that he’s actually courting me - or something damn similar. I woke up yesterday morning to find a rose on the pillow next me.” She rested her chin on her hand. “Can you believe that shit? I’m a sure deal. I don’t want or need freakin’ flowers. ” She tugged on her choker. “I wear his collar for fuck’s sake.”

“Of course you do.” Chet grabbed his beer. “But I totally understand his reasoning. He loves you – and doesn’t want you to get hurt because you want some too rough, kinky sex.”

“Then tell me something. How would you like it if the tables reversed? That your Mistress refused to let you serve her when you asked, just because you were recovering from a cold.”

Chet growled. “It’d piss me off, because if I asked, I would’ve known what I could handle or not handle.”

She nodded. “Exactly. He’s got it stuck in his head that we can both settle for – make do with vanilla sex until after the baby is born – and then only play a bit - until the baby is old enough to sleep through the night. I’ll kill him, if he waits that long to top me.” She shifted in her seat. “It’s just not fair – he got me addicted to his brand of domination - then pulled it away for a bullshit reason.”

“Why do you think it’s a bullshit reason? Harder impact play isn’t safe once you get into your third trimester, Bethany.”

“I know that.” She squeezed the bridge of her nose. “Why do you think I’m so anxious to store up some memories? I only have four to six weeks left of real play time, which is why I talked to his uncle. He’s gonna help me.” She patted his arm. “As are you.”

Chet groaned. “Aw, hell. Please tell me it’s not something that’s going to end up with me on the wrong end of Deacon’s fist.” She shrugged. “I don’t know – he’s on a short fuse these days, since he hasn’t been releasing all those dark domination needs on me.”

He sputtered. “You couldn’t leave me out of it.”

“Nope. He’s got to think that you’re involved in it.”

“Why would you do that to me? I’m your friend.”

“I know you are. If you weren’t, I’d have kicked your ass already. Instead consider this payback for you fucking up my sex life by trying to teach my Dom how to romance me.”

“Shit.” He gave her a hopeful look. “I don’t suppose there’s some way you’ll let it go?”

“Not a chance in hell. You turned my Badass Dom into a bumbling romantic. Because of you, he thinks there are things he must do to prove to me that he’ll be a great husband and father.” She leaned in and grabbed the front of his shirt. “Something he never should’ve had to do. Faults and all, he was fucking perfect for me before you started filling his head with sappy notions of love, and all sorts of crazy romantic ideas about how a man acts with the woman he loves. So guess what – you’re gonna pay by taking him out fishing Sunday afternoon.”

“But I don’t even like fishing!” Chet protested.

“You do now.” Bethany leaned closer to him. “But chin up – maybe the only thing he’ll do is dump your ass in the water.”

“You’re a cruel woman Bethany Adams.” Then he downed his beer in three long swallows.