Make Me, Sir

No way. She got her feet under her and lunged forward.

With a low laugh, he caught her ankle and yanked her back, then set a knee on her butt. His weight pinned her, making her feel…odd. Excited.

Yet the second his powerful hands closed on her shoulders, terror engulfed her in a cold, mindless fog. She froze.

He stilled. Waited. She caught a whiff of his musky amber scent, and warmth dissipated her fear. It was Marcus touching her. Knowing his knee rested on her bare bottom, his weight trapped her, made all the difference. She wiggled and couldn’t resist taunting him. “You rat-bastard dipwad, let me go.”

Chuckling, he tightened his grip. “Mouthy little sub.” The wrist cuffs snicked off his belt. “I am going to enjoy what I do to you.”

Oh God. Under the growing tension, unable to help herself, she squirmed, and he simply put more weight on her. Controlling her.

Despite her thrashing, he firmly buckled one wrist cuff on and the other, then clipped them together behind her back. When he removed his weight, she thought he’d pull her to her feet. Instead his knee pushed between her thighs, keeping her legs apart.

His jeans scraped against the sensitive skin of her inner thighs. For a minute, he didn’t move. And then he stroked her legs, traced the crack between her butt checks, squeezed her waist. He ruthlessly touched her how and where he pleased, and her skin burned under his calloused hands until it seemed she might set the grass beneath her on fire.

He set his palm between her legs to cup her heat and gave a satisfied, “Mmmmh. You’re nice and wet, Darlin’.”

His touch roused her, yet…she felt too naked, too restrained, too vulnerable. Needing to escape, she wiggled. Helplessly.

“No, Gabrielle.” His voice deepened, a smooth threat as his hand pressed on her ass cheeks, holding her in place. “Stay put, sugar. I want to examine my prize.”

The commanding voice, the knowledge he wouldn’t let her move, melted her inside. This was what she wanted, needed. Someone to take the control from her. She turned her head and rested her cheek. The cool grass scraped and tantalized her bunching nipples, an erotic contrast to his warm hand on her bottom.

“Good girl.” His unyielding hand held her down as with his other, he touched her intimately, caressing her folds and sending heat lancing up her center. When he slowly pressed a finger through her puffy tissues and up inside her, pleasure boiled up so violently that her eyes almost crossed.

His finger slid out, then pushed in deeper. He made another pleased sound. “Yes, Li’ll Sassy, I’m going to tie you down, spread you open, and see how much of me you can take.”

Oh God, yes. Her pussy clenched around him.

With a low laugh, he rose and lifted her easily to her feet. Holding her wrist cuffs, he reached around her and teased her breasts, pulling on her nipples, until her breasts burned with the same need as her pussy. As he pushed her toward the darkest section of the tiny area, he said in a low voice, “I intend to take my time later, but right now, little escaped slave girl, I’m going to fuck you hard.” The rude word in Marcus’s smooth voice was jarring. And so hot her knees wobbled.

Something glinted in the pale moonlight, and she saw that a heavy chain ran down from a thick tree branch and intersected four chains that opened to hold up…a tire swing. Rather than a standing-up position, the tractor-sized tire lay horizontally. “A swing?”

“You’ll know why in a minute.” Marcus unclipped her wrists, grabbing her quickly before she could escape, and tossed her onto her back between the two sets of chains. The tire had canvas attached over the hole, providing support in the center. Her neck rested on the tire rim. I don’t want to make love on a damned swing. She sat up.

Marcus laughed and shoved her down, then clipped her wrist cuffs to the chains beside her shoulders. The tire rocked wildly as she struggled, yet her excitement increased with each unsuccessful yank against the chains. When he walked to the bottom of the swing, she kicked at him. “I don’t want to have sex here.”

“I didn’t ask what you wanted.” He caught one leg in his merciless grip, and now she’d seen him without the suit, she knew just how muscular he was. “And I’m going to enjoy tying you up, sugar.” He tried to bend her leg up, but she kept it straight—that was the whole point of the game, right?

She almost giggled. So maybe not all her insolent behavior was playacting. And every time he made her obey, it seemed to fan the flames in her roaring furnace.

With an amused sound, he held her leg in one hand and poked her in the ribs with a knuckle. She squeaked, and suddenly he had her leg bent and had her ankle in a strap hanging from the chain. He did the same on the other side, and there she was, naked and outside in a garden, faceup on a tire swing, wrists hooked to the chains, straps holding her legs up and apart.

God, this was so wrong. Kinky. Insane.

Yet heat seared her skin as he ran his hands over the backs of her thighs, leaving tingles in their wake. “I want that little pussy all the way down here where I can get to everything,” he said and pulled her hips until her bottom hung out over the end of the tire and her legs angled toward her shoulders. He secured a strap up and over her pelvis to keep her hips from moving. At all.

Her pussy was open and exposed, and the slight movement of the swing wafted air over her wet folds. He studied her for a minute and smiled. “There you go, all ready for anything I want to do to you. You look beautiful, Gabrielle,” he murmured.

She couldn’t take it anymore, not from him. “Gabi.”

“Excuse me?” His fingers slid between her folds, circling her clit.

Her breathing increased as her clit seemed to engorge. “My friends call me Gabi.”

“Well, now, I do believe we might be considered friends,” he said, amusement obvious, as he teased her, rubbing one side of her clit, circling her entrance, repeating it again. He was too damned good at using his fingers, dammit. Her need grew, her pussy craving to be filled almost as much as her aching nub of nerves needed more of his touch. She squirmed, trying to get more.

“Stay still, sugar.” He slapped her bottom, and the sting burned right into her clit.

She moaned.

His fingers paused. “I asked Holt to see if you enjoyed a little pain. Looks like you do.”

Her eyes shot open. “No. I don’t like pain.”

“Mmmhmm.” He slid a finger into her, so fast and deep she choked. A burn ignited from the inside out. Her words tangled on her tongue as pleasure rocketed through her.

He slapped her bottom harder.

Aaaah! The pain set her pussy on fire, and she almost came right then.

He laughed, low and deep, running his hand over the stinging area. “I’ll be adding a tad more variety to your trainee scenes so we can explore this side of your nature.”

Her tongue felt thick, and all she could think about was the way his fingers moved slowly in and out of her, occasionally moving out to slide over her clit until her whole pussy seemed to swell. “What?”

“Sugar, you like a little pain with your sex.” He illustrated by swatting her butt forcefully enough to make her cry out, then pumping his fingers in and out of her vagina. Another swat. Thrusting. The burning on her bottom merged with the sizzling heat surrounding his fingers, and everything in her tightened, waiting… She gripped the chains as her hips tried to lift.

When he withdrew, she whimpered.

At the sound of a condom wrapper being ripped open, her eyes widened. Her pussy pulsed, so swollen and wet, and the thought of him—of Marcus—actually inside her made it all worse. She wanted this, needed him to take her, possess her all the way.

At the silence, she looked up and saw him studying her. A corner of his mouth turned up. “You’re ready for me, little slave girl,” he said softly. She felt him swirling the head of his cock in her wetness and shuddered in anticipation. He brushed it over her clit and sent a tremor up her spine. She was so close.

A second later, his thick shaft slid into her, and she groaned at the astounding feeling. Then firmly, inexorably, he pressed deeper, filling her, stretching her. Too much.

“No. No, stop.” She pulled on the chains and tried to slide up and away.

His hands tightened on her hips. “You can take it, sugar.”

She gasped for air, and her legs rattled the chains uncontrollably. As she strained helplessly against the hip strap and his powerful hands, the knowledge he could do anything he wanted shot through her until she almost came right then.

Oh God.

“You’re hot and wet, Li’ll Gabi,” he said slowly, as if he savored each word, as if he knew the way his dark, sexy voice melted her insides. His hands slid under her bottom and squeezed. “And I intend to hammer into you until you scream for me.” But he still moved slowly, his size almost painful, until he had sheathed himself completely inside her and his balls brushed against her buttocks. He pulled back, then eased in.

Within a few strokes, her body adjusted and the movement of his cock turned into a slick slide of thrilling, wonderful friction.

She moaned.

“There we go.” Without warning, he slammed into her. The starburst of sensation blazed upward, arching her back. He plunged deeper—the hammering he’d promised—and her need grew. God, she wanted even more. Her hips tried to move again, jerking uselessly. She groaned.