Lean on Me (Masters of the Shadowlands #4)

Lean on Me (Masters of the Shadowlands #4) Page 16

However, he'd never seen shit like this in a sub. “Why am I not hearing, 'Yes, Sir-Señor If I don't feel well, I'll ask you for help'?” When her hands clenched, he realized he'd growled the question. Nonetheless. “Answer me.”

“I don't like asking for help.” Her eyes met his. Serious. Stubborn. Ms. Macho all right. Time to remind her that—at least in the Shadowlands—subs didn't make decisions or say, “I don't want to.” He pinned her left arm down with his hip, grasped her other wrist, and used his free hand to cup one breast.

The startled look in her eyes gratified him. She tried to lift her arms, realized she couldn't move, and her eyes dilated. Little submissive. He teased her breasts, circling the nipples with his thumb, pressing the fullness upward, enjoying himself as was a Master's right. Her breathing increased, and a pulse hammered in her neck. But the pleasure he got from seeing her response to being restrained had nothing to do with this conversation. “Why don't you like getting help if you need it?”

When his answer didn't come quickly, he pinched one tender peak.

She barely managed to muffle the squeak, but her back arched.

“Why?” He rolled the nipple between his fingers, keeping the pressure hard enough that her cheeks flushed. Sensitive breasts. Someday he'd have to see if she could come just from breast play.

“It doesn't do any good.” Her eyes had a haunted flash.

Someone had let her down. Maybe several someones?

She added rapidly, “No. I mean—I mean, my father didn't like… He was military. You don't ask for help.”

Her hips wiggled as her body wakened to his touch.

Cullen snorted, released her breast, and moved to the other. The low moan she gave delighted his ears, and his cock hardened. Bending her over the couch and taking her from behind would please both of them, but he needed to understand this problem of hers. “Wasn't he ever in a squad? Didn't he ever ask a buddy for help with his pack? Stripping a weapon? What kind of teamwork is that?” He pinched her again when she obviously tried to find the right words. “Don't think. Just answer me.”

She whimpered and said, “He was a sniper. He didn't like teams.”

Covert ops with no backup? That sucked and explained much. Those guys seriously believed the depend-only-on-yourself bullshit. Hell. “Sweetie, what he said about counting only on yourself won't work here. We need to know you'll use your safe word.”

“I-I don't…”

Not the answer he wanted, but at least she hadn't lied to him. He gentled his touch and simply stroked her, from her graceful neck to just above her pussy. Pretty bare pussy where her swollen clit still poked out between the lips.

So should he dump her from the trainees? Her unwillingness to bail out created a safety issue. But little Miss Independence truly was submissive, and the Dom in him wanted to fix this. Especially since she might end up somewhere else where they wouldn't know her hang-ups or care for her properly.

As he continued petting her, she pressed her legs together with a tiny squirm. Her color mounted. He smiled, even as his cock turned rock hard. She needed to come, and badly.

“I'm going to go home now.” Her voice started soft but ended up firm.

Probably dying to find some privacy and get herself off, especially since she wouldn't ask for help. One of these days he'd drive her right to that point…over and over. Another fun lesson to look forward to.

Apparently he'd made the decision to keep her, after all. She'd stay, and he'd work on the safe word issue with her. He traced the pink line left from the rope, down her stomach to her mound. “You're not going home yet.”

Her eyes closed, and her hips tilted into his hand like a cat begging for more. He chuckled. Master Z called his sub a kitten. Andrea was no kitten but a tiger. Bigger, the claws faster and deadlier, but she liked to be petted just as much.

Let's see just how much… “You know, earlier this evening I realized I'd given you only one side of a lesson that first night.”

The flush of arousal pinked her cheeks. His finger slid down a fraction into the crease between her outer labia, staying well above her clit. As aroused as she looked, any stimulation would send her over. Her brows drew together as she tried to think. “What lesson?”

“I spanked you, remember?”

“I'm not likely to forget someone slapping my butt with a big piece of wood.”

He laughed. When her lips curved in response, he surrendered to the urge and took her mouth—hard. Deep. Satisfying, especially since she gave as good as she got, participating fully. When he pulled back, her lips were as swollen and wet as her pussy.

“I am going to spank you now.” He gripped her arms, forestalling her instinctive attempt to retreat. “I gave you the first spanking for punishment; this one is for fun.”

“Your fun, maybe. I didn't like it at all. No.” She actually struggled, and he had to smother his laugh.

“Trainee,” he said, sharply enough that she had to look at him. “I didn't ask your permission.”

She stilled, her breathing rapid. Her lips moved—No—but no sound escaped.

He let his voice warm with approval. “Very good. Now give me your hand.” They both knew he could overpower her, but that wasn't submission. Submission was the war in her eyes as her desire to refuse fought with his command.

Submission was her hand settling into his.

They crossed the room through the pools of darkness left by the dimmed flickering sconces. A deep Gregorian chant throbbed under the murmur of the members, and the sounds of pain indicating the Shadowlands had transitioned to late-night play.

As he led her to the specially designed spanking throne, Cullen knew he should have given the task to another master. But he wanted to show her this side of desire—and to bring her to orgasm in the Shadowlands for the first time.

He took a spreader bar off the wall. “Don't move.”

After buckling a cuff on her left ankle, he pointed at the other end of the metal bar. “Put your foot over here.”

When she paused to consider, he slapped her thigh briskly. Her legs moved apart.

He strapped the other cuff on. The metal bar prevented her from closing her legs and kept that pussy open and available. As he knelt on one knee, he could smell the heady scent of her arousal and see the glistening moisture between her thighs. Her abused pink clit, still too swollen to retreat behind its hood, waited for his touch.

He almost peeled her farther open to use his tongue, but if he did, then she wouldn't have this lesson. So he rose and took a seat on the chair, setting his feet on the metal footrests. The height of the pedestal chair put his knees even with her upper stomach. He grasped her wrist and drew her closer, smiling at her impaired steps. “Over my knees, pet.”

Her look of disbelief made him laugh. He could explain the added intimacy of over-the-knee, bare-handed spanking, but she'd discover it soon enough. He simply held her gaze until her eyes dropped, and she laid herself over his lap. Barely. Her stomach rested on his thighs.

He grunted, amused. “I'm not planning to spank your shoulders, love.” With a hand between her legs, he repositioned her, head down.

Even with her height, her fingertips barely brushed the floor. Her legs on the other side dangled without any leverage. Cullen grinned. Z had made the carpenter mount the chair extra high just to induce that helpless feeling.

Andrea gulped.

And that was just the right response. Cullen pressed his left hand to her shoulders, increasing her sense of helplessness. With his right, he massaged her bottom. Soft and round, with hard muscle underneath. Perfection.

“You have a gorgeous ass, Andrea.” He ran his hand over her low back and down the tiny hollow of her low spine.

When his finger teased the crack between her cheeks, she tensed.

“Not this time, love, but I intend to give you a sample of anal sex one of these days.” And he knew her anticipation and worry would only increase as time went on.

He patted her ass lightly to warm her skin and sensitize it. Then he slid his hand between her legs.

Since he had her shoulders pinned, she could only squirm helplessly as he ran a finger through her slick labia and over her clit. It was swollen and too tender to press directly—at least right now. He slid his finger up and down one side, very gently, feeling as always that his hands were too huge for such delicate work.

Finding, as always, that it didn't matter.

Slowly, as he teased her, the muscles of Andrea's back tightened into long hard lines. Her breathing increased.

There we go. Abandoning her pussy, he smacked her right ass cheek, then the left. Her legs tried to kick, but the spreader bar prevented much movement. He swatted her harder, taking her just to the edge of pain. Her golden skin took on a pink hue.

And then he slid his hand back between her legs.

Chapter Eight

Master Cullen pushed down on her shoulders as the fingers of his other hand touched her pussy, setting every nerve on fire. Dios, what was he doing to her? She squirmed, but his fingers never stopped. He traced every inch of tender flesh, over and over, until her clit engorged, and her whole pussy felt tight.

When he eased a finger into her, yet more nerves shocked awake. The feeling of fullness startled her, but then, she hadn't had a lover in a long time.

“Been a while for you, hasn't it?” he murmured, his finger sliding deep inside, then out and over her clit again, until she was drowning in burning pleasure.