Switch Master: 6 (Ink and Kink) (20 page)

“Won’t be a problem,” he assured, grimacing.

“You don’t like asparagus?”

“Hate it more than onions, same for Brussels sprouts and
cooked cabbage.”

As simple as the conversation was, Sam liked it. Talking
about vegetables distracted her from what she really wanted…Taran’s cock.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she knew he was expecting her to beg.

“Eat, doll, you’re going to need the energy,” Taran warned,
nodding toward her bowl of soup.

Sam picked up her spoon, taking a taste. Soup was good, hot
and exactly what she needed right then.

The rest of lunch went by without sexual innuendo. Taran
talked about his godfather, learning to catch lobsters and what it’d been like
growing up with Ethan and Phalen.

It became obvious to Sam that he loved his brothers. Despite
some sibling rivalry growing up, they were incredibly close and regarded family
and friends as important parts of their lives.

“Would you like to go upstairs or to the man cave to play
pool or poker?” he asked when their bowls were empty and the sleeve of crackers
was finished.

“Pool sounds fun. It’s been awhile since I’ve picked up a
cue stick.”

“Why don’t you head on down? I’ll clean up the lunch
dishes.”

“I’d rather help. You made lunch.”

Together they cleared the table, stacking everything in the
dishwasher and wiping down the booth’s table. When that was finished, they
grabbed their half-empty bottles of water and headed to the basement.

The man cave was outfitted with a pool table, a gaming
table, two big over-stuffed lounge chairs, a leather sofa and an entertainment
system that included a sixty-five-inch flat-screen TV. On the far side of the
room was a low-rise platform where the brothers’ band equipment was set up.

Another doorway on the opposite side of the basement led to
a workshop where the brothers made dungeon equipment, much of which was being
purchased by Alex Grant and Ryan Hathaway for their BDSM club. Some New
Englanders in the lifestyle pre-ordered online, but Phalen vetted them before
accepting an order.

Taran, she’d learned some time ago, was rather crafty with
leather and made all sorts of items fitting for a dungeon, including whips,
straps and collars.

“What are you thinking about, Sam?” Taran asked, catching
her staring at the door to the workshop.

“Can I go in your workshop sometime?” She turned her eyes to
Taran, ready to show her respect to her Master by kneeling if it would open the
door.

“Sure, later, after we play.”

“Sounds good,” she agreed.

“How about we play strip pool? For every ball I sink, you
owe me a piece of clothing. Same goes if you sink one.”

“I’m only wearing one piece of clothing.” To her way of
thinking, this was a win-win game.

“You’ll have to trust your Master to know how to make the
most of stripping that onesie off you.”

“How good are you at playing pool?”

“Good enough to believe I’ll have you completely naked and
wanting to be fucked by the end of the first game. How good are you?”

“I’ve beaten Ethan a few times.”

“My brother’s good at many things, pool isn’t one of them.”

“I think I can beat you.”

“Do you?”

“Yes, Master,” she said. “As long as we’re negotiating, you
can’t use the vibrator to distract me during either game.”

“Not to worry. The remote’s in my coat pocket upstairs.”

“I accept your challenge. One thing, if I end up naked,
you’d better keep me warm. This onesie is toasty.”

“Admit that thing’s ugly,” he challenged.

“It’s not the worst thing I’ve ever worn.”

“Don’t tell me you actually like it.”

“I don’t hate it. I can see why you wouldn’t want to wear it
though, it’s not very masculine.”

“Figures, I have it on good authority Ethan tried to dress
me up as a girl when we were kids. Now you know why I had to kick his ass so
often.”

“Who was the authority?”

“Phalen.”

“It hasn’t occurred to you that maybe Phalen did the same
thing to Ethan…or to you?”

“He wouldn’t dare.”

“To make sure you and Ethan remain aware of who is top dog
in the Maddox household, he might.”

“Doll, you’re in love with the top dog in this household,”
Taran stated.

“Interesting, I’m certainly not in love with my partner, but
I’m pretty sure he sees himself as head honcho of the Maddox brownstone.”

“Something’s up with Ethan and Morgan. They’ve been in touch
with a real estate agent.”

“That’s awesome,” she said, excited for her partner and his
wife.

“What’s even better is the fact that the brownstone will be
ours, which effectively makes me top dog.”

“We’ll have to wrestle on occasion,” she warned. “I’d like
to be on top once in a while.”

“You’ve been on top several times already,” he reminded.

“True, but in my research and discussions with your
sisters-in-law, they insisted I understand the difference between an alpha and
a Master.”

“I’m both, baby doll,” he stated proudly.

Bowing her head gracefully, she recognized that Taran needed
reassurance right then. He was as strong and dominant as ever, yet there was a
spark of vulnerability in his eyes.

Sam suspected he hadn’t liked being reminded that he was the
youngest Maddox. She couldn’t change his age, but he would always be her
favorite.

“Taran, I love you. You are my Master and I wouldn’t have it
any other way.”

Taran’s grin returned in a flash. With that, he invited her
over to select a cue stick. Sam weighed her options, having always preferred a
heavier stick. She found the one she liked and took it with her to the
regulation-sized table.

The faded felt top was blue. The table itself was a massive
black structure with diamond-shaped ivory markings along the top for lining up
shots. An eight-ball and a nine-ball rack hung from two hooks beneath the slot
where the balls gradually traveled to after they went into the pockets.

She didn’t know if she could beat Taran. He was very
confident about his ability.

Keeping that in mind, Sam waited for her opponent to come to
the table. He’d selected his cue stick, a fancy black and mahogany one. There
was a cube of blue chalk already on the table and he picked it up to chalk the
tip, offering it to her when he was done.

“Are you ready to play?” he asked.

Sam glanced up at her man, catching her breath when she saw
that he still wore nothing but boxer shorts. Her tummy rumbled, but not for
food. Now that she’d eaten, her hunger for sex became a very real need.

“Yes, more than ready,” she answered.

Doing her best to ignore the sudden wantonness that had
taken hold of her, Sam sized up her shot, slamming the cue ball into the
triangle of balls and sending them scattering around the table.

The bad news was that she didn’t get a single ball to drop.
The good news was that she hadn’t left obvious shots for Taran.

He took a second to drink from the bottle of water he’d
placed on a nearby ledge, studying the table. Sam had placed hers there before
chalking her stick, copying him by taking a sip.

Setting up the opening round had been the easy part. What
followed was her inevitable downfall. Taran made his first shot, a stripe in a
far corner pocket, pausing to tear the backside flap off the onesie, exposing
her ass.

Despite the harness strapped into place, she felt
particularly exposed, although Taran didn’t give her time to get used to it. He
kept sinking ball after ball, honoring his promise to tear a piece of cloth
from the onesie until it resembled a macabre puzzle.

By the time the game was half-done, she had a good portion
of skin showing and Taran proved that not only was he a Master in the bedroom,
he was incredibly strong. He tore the onesie as though it was made out of
paper.

He missed one shot, leaving Sam a chance to make up some
ground by dropping a ball in a side pocket. Taran boldly removed his boxers,
his erection on display, and made his next shot.

The first game ended with Taran winning by a landslide and
her onesie was in tatters. With narrow pieces holding it in place at her
shoulders, she waited while Taran reset the table for the second game. He
really didn’t mind being naked.

Even as he set up the table for another round, Sam knew
there was only one thing left for her to do. Deliberately leaning against the
pool table, she wiggled to cause the remaining strip of onesie on her left
shoulder to tear, letting the fabric fall to reveal her left breast.

“What do you think, pretty boy? Would you rather have me? Or
win another game?”

Taran glanced up from his task, his eyes, constantly alert
and always lava-hot, slid up and down her figure, pausing on her taut nipple.
His tongue slicked out, moistening his kissable lips.

“I don’t give a damn about pool, baby doll. I want you naked
and I want you begging me to fuck you.”

“If I agree, will it result in a screaming orgasm?”

“Only if you beg me to fuck you,” he stated.

Sam suddenly wanted to see Taran lose it, just a little. She
wanted him to scream her name when he came.

“I want you, Master Taran, fuck me, please,” she begged,
realizing that her pussy felt terribly neglected, despite the multiple orgasms
she’d had that day.

Taran tossed his cue stick, threw the rack off the table and
sent the carefully stacked balls zinging across the table and into the pockets,
one by one. Keeping the eight ball at the head of the table, he looked her
square in the eye.

“Let’s get you naked, doll,” he said, waiting for her to
come to him. She sidled closer. A delicious tremble had begun within her,
sweeping up and down her spine, setting her aflame.

With little ado, what was left of the onesie joined the
giant pile of scraps on the club basement floor. Not that he paused to clean it
up. Rather, he grabbed fistfuls of her hair, dragging her up against him.

His lips crushed hers, his tongue invaded and she accepted
his total need for dominance. It thrilled her to know he wanted her this much.
Her tummy flipped, her clit pulsed and her pussy grew increasingly wet, so wet
she could feel the moisture sliding down her thighs.

Taran freed her hair, running his hands down her sides,
removing the harness around her waist without missing a beat. He tossed it onto
the pile of onesie pieces, leaving her naked.

“Climb up,” he urged, grasping her around the waist to hoist
her up onto the pool table and stretch her out.

Sam expected Taran to climb on top of her. Instead, he took
the eight ball, rolling it between his big hands and blowing on it, perhaps
warming it up.

Done working the eight ball between his hands, he rolled it
along the bottom of her left foot, then the right. Her feet were incredibly
ticklish normally, but this, oh, now this was good.

The smoothness of the ball relieved pressure, soothing any
aches that had begun. Shoveling snow had been extremely taxing on her feet,
legs and arms. She hadn’t complained, yet he must have known she needed some
relief.

Slowly, he continued, rolling the ball up along her calf,
switching attention to her other calf. Not a part of her lower body was
neglected, the sleek ball making her gasp a little when he rolled it over her
abdomen, breasts and shoulders, turning her on, driving her crazy by the
slowness.

“Turn over and scoot yourself up the table for me,” he
encouraged.

Sam flipped over, spreading herself out so that only her
feet hung off the table. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions at first.
Once she was more settled, she relished the way Taran massaged her back and
spine with the eight ball.

“How does this feel?” Taran asked, rolling the ball all
around her derriere.

“Amazingly nice, but if you keep massaging I might fall
asleep.”

“You won’t,” he stated, shifting the ball so it rolled
between her thighs and fit it to her pussy. “The ball’s soaked with your honey
now.”

“Please fuck me, I’ve begged already.”

“And so you’ll be rewarded,” he said, rolling the ball up
and down her pussy, deftly teasing her clit, slit and her asshole.

She was unaware that she’d begun begging for sex again, and
the ball flew to the opposite side of the table. If it went in, she didn’t
know, didn’t care.

“Over,” he grunted, slapping her backside before helping her
turn over onto her back, bend her knees and plant her feet on the very edge of
the table.

Standing over her now, Taran looked very much the conqueror.
His cock seemed as large and dangerous as a broadsword. He’d certainly
conquered her in a game of pool and he’d overwhelmed her senses with a hot,
demanding kiss and an eight ball.

“Now we fuck,” he said, shifting forward, his body spreading
her legs wide.

Fortunately he was a very tall man and he was able to remain
standing as he dragged her closer to the edge. Just like that, Taran’s hips
surged forward, his cock driving deep inside her pussy.

He felt big, strong, capable and hot. Using her leg
strength, Sam hoisted herself up at him, fucking him as fast and furiously as
he thrust. Neither were going to last very long, already she could feel the
tension within her mount, each of his thrusts hitting her exactly right.

Holy freakin’ cow, Taran Maddox knew how to fuck. Every time
he curled his hips or thrust as deep as possible, he made sure she felt it. His
withdraws were slow, measured, making her ache to be taken, claimed. His
thrusts were deep, powerful, sure.

At last, his right hand caressed down her hip to her pussy,
his fingers seeking her clit, rubbing her off, her inner tension mounted and
burst, sending her soaring. Taran tossed back his head, roaring so loudly the
table vibrated as he came.

Aware that he rocked himself through his release, her world
spun out of focus, freeing her to soar into the stratosphere, into an
inescapable, indescribable world that seemed brighter simply because the man
she loved wanted her enough to roar.

Sometime later, the delicious buzz that’d stormed through
her wound down, and Sam discovered they’d moved to the sofa. Taran held her
close, his forehead pressed against hers.

“Welcome back, doll,” he whispered.

“Where’d I go?”

“You took a short flight.”

“Into subspace?” she questioned, genuinely surprised.