Beneath the Scars Page 22

  She gasped as the increased vibrations hit.

  Yes, now. Slowly, he entered her, past the soft lips of her pussy and into the hot silk of her cunt. Deep enough he felt her stretching around his girth.

  She gasped and tried to pull away, tried to straighten up—and was halted by the restraints.

  Her body shook with a hard tremor as she realized she couldn’t escape being penetrated—and fuck, he loved the way her pussy clenched around him in response. Yeah, she liked being trapped and taken, probably as much as he loved doing it.

  He held in place a moment and ran his hands over her back and shoulders. “I love the way you feel around me, Josie,” he murmured. “Breathe, pet. Because you’re going to take all of me.”

  As her panting slowed, he started again, pulling back slightly, then pressing in, moving farther each time. Her warm, soft walls pulsed around him. Time to give her something else to think about. He moved the butterfly vibrator sideways to hit a different area on her clit.

  Her whine made him grin. Her buttocks clenched even as her slick cunt gripped his shaft like an oiled fist.

  Another inch and his groin pressed against her round buttocks. “All in, baby.”

  And she was damn close to coming. Breathing hard, whimpering slightly.

  “All right, pet. You’ve been a very good girl.” Inch by inch, he pulled back, savoring the velvet grip her cunt had on his erection. Almost out, he paused—and slammed in, hard.

  “Aaaah.” Her back tried to arch, her ass tilted up slightly, and her pussy clamped down on his dick and began to spasm as she climaxed with sobbing gasps. “Oh, oh, oh.”

  With one hand, he unsnapped the butterfly, letting it fall loose, as he thrust several times to keep her orgasm going.

  And then he slowed to an easy in and out. His cock was so damn hard it was painful, but he wasn’t ready to finish. Nothing in the world compared to the feeling of having her all around him, feeling her soft body under his hands. She was so fucking sweet.

  He moved his hand up and set his palm between her dangling breasts. Her heart was still hammering against her rib cage.

  Oh, oh, oh, she’d come so hard. Josie could feel her heart slamming within her chest, and she was sucking in air like a runner finishing a marathon. When her knees wobbled, Holt’s left hand under her pelvis held her in place. His cock pressed in, filling her impossibly full, and then he’d slide out ever so slowly. And back in. The thick heat penetrating her made her shudder.

  He’d…taken her. Hard. Not asking, not pausing.

  And he wasn’t finished, she realized belatedly. Oh, heavens, he hadn’t come when she had.

  “You feel fantastic, sweetheart,” he murmured, his speed not increasing. His right hand moved over her stomach, over her mound, and back up.

  She gasped as he captured a breast and fondled it firmly. He jostled the clamp on her throbbing nipple, deliberately tugged on it.

  Squirming, she tried to get away. She. Couldn’t. Move. She was totally restrained. He could play with her body…and she couldn’t stop him. Couldn’t even see him. The feeling sank deep in her core, even as her excitement increased.

  “Mmm,” he murmured, “I love your breasts.”

  “You’re a guy. Of course you do.” Her voice came out hoarse.

  “Uh-uh, little bartender,” he said reprovingly. His cock slammed into her hard, sending after-orgasm quivers through her. “You’re in no position to be sassy.”

  “S-sorry, Sir.” How…how in the world was she getting aroused again? She’d just come. The low moan she couldn’t prevent gave her need away.

  “No worries, pet, I’ll fuck some of that sass out of your system.” His low smoky voice wasn’t angry, but…amused.

  His fingers slid back over her clit, making her jolt. When he rubbed one side, she wiggled at the exquisite feeling—so very different from a vibrator, so much more exciting because…it was his hand. With a frighteningly knowledgeable touch, he ran a slick finger over the sides, teased the hood, flickered over the very top.

  Impossible need clawed into her system. Her hips twisted uncontrollably as a keen rose in her throat.

  As his thrusts quickened and deepened, the rhythmic hammering set up shockwaves in her core. The feeling of being taken increased, and then with a quick two-handed movement, he removed the clamps on her nipples.

  Blood surged back into the abused peaks with a hot, liquid, throbbing pain, and she yanked at her hands, needing to hold her aching breasts, and couldn’t move.

  As if to emphasize her helplessness, he possessed one aching breast in his big hand. His other hand stroked her clit—and his merciless cock never slowed.

  Too much. The far-too-knowledgeable torment of her clit. His thick shaft stretching her unbearably full. The fingers tugging her rigid, tender nipples. The sensations multiplied, engulfing her, pushing her to the edge…

  She squirmed helplessly in his grip. Restrained, held, taken.

  “You’re going nowhere, Josie.”

  At his low growl, everything inside her tensed to an excruciating point—then exploded in huge, impossible waves of sensation, one after another. The unbearable pleasure grew and grew with every hard thrust of his shaft.

  And then he pressed, deep, deep inside her, and she could feel his cock jerking as he joined her. “Mmmm.” His hands moved over her, touching, sliding, drawing her orgasm out until she was drowning in pleasure.

  When he finally stopped, her head was spinning.

  “That’s a good girl,” he said, running his hands over her. “Stay put a moment while I clean up, then I’ll get you free.”

  She was still gasping as he opened the pillory and helped her straighten.

  Laughing, he caught her when her knees gave out. “Easy, baby.” Gently, he laid her down on the blanket and joined her, pulling her into his arms.

  Her head rested on his shoulder, her arm over his waist, her knee over his thighs. She squirmed slightly, trying to get even closer. Under her ear, she could hear the thudding of his heart…slightly faster than normal.

  “Okay, pet?” he asked quietly, his hand stroking her damp shoulder and back.

  “Yes,” she breathed. And then she womaned-up and gave him the truth. “I’ve never…felt anything like that.”

  “Mmm. For a submissive, being pushed adds an extra kick.”

  Yes, it had. But that wasn’t…all. Admittedly, she didn’t have much experience, but she’d been with Everett and a couple of men when Carson was a toddler. They’d tried to push her.

  Slowly, she inhaled, breathing in Holt’s masculine scent, all man, all strength.

  There was being ordered around, and there was really submitting, and that was more emotional than physical. She didn’t submit to men. But because this was Holt, who would take care of her, she’d let him in and lowered her defenses and given him…everything.

  And oh, it had been wonderful.

  But when he’d been inside her, physically, mentally, spiritually, he’d stolen more than her defenses.

  She closed her eyes. Appalled. No. Do not be crazy, mushy, stupid. She hadn’t changed. No, she hadn’t.

  Only, each time he stroked her arm or spoke to her in that smoky, firm voice that exuded confidence—every single time—he took more of her into his keeping.

  This couldn’t be. Part of her was thrilled at the connection, and the other part inched back, step by step, toward the cave that was her refuge.

  A soft gong sounded three times, and Holt sighed. “Z’s closing down the Gardens. We have to get back.”

  She started to sit up, and he brushed her hair out of her eyes. “Rest here, sweetheart. I need to clean the equipment, and then we’ll be off.”

  “I can help.” Her legs felt weak, but she’d—

  His grip on her shoulder tightened, and he lifted her chin with one hand. “What did I say?”

  His jaw was stern.

  She should know better by now, shouldn’t she? “Um. I’ll stay here. Si
r.”

  His lips twitched. “Good answer.”

  Chapter Fourteen

  On Saturday afternoon, the sun bright and hot on his shoulders, Carson steered his bike around a corner. Shifting his backpack to a better position, he pedaled faster to catch up to his friends.

  He was kinda sorry they hadn’t stayed at Brandon’s. Since Mom was going to a barbecue, she’d said Carson could spend the whole afternoon with his new friends, which was awesome. Brandon had video games Carson wanted to try.

  Turned out Brandon had different plans. They were going to their school.

  Carson lifted his head. Brandon was at the front, followed by black-haired Yukio, ginger-haired Ryan, and dark-haired Juan. They sure didn’t look at all alike. Brandon was tallest and, along with Ryan, the most muscular. Juan was short and skinny. Yukio was built like Carson, kinda tall and lean.

  But they were all smart and at the top of their classes. Well, except for Ryan who aced everything but couldn’t stop talking and ended up in trouble. Especially with the science teacher who was a sarcastic a-hole.

  Brandon had decided the science teacher needed to pay for how he treated Ryan—and Juan, too. He thought a sackful of poop in the classroom would piss off old Jorgeson, especially since the bag might not get found until after Christmas break. Brandon called it a mission.

  Carson fell back slightly. A mission was what a superhero would do—which was really cool—only he couldn’t see Spiderman throwing shit through a window. But Ryan and Juan thought Brandon’s plan was fantastic.

  Before reaching the middle school, Brandon turned a corner and down a street to the athletic fields so they could approach “the target” from the rear. Quietly. Like spies.

  Carson swallowed. This really wasn’t a good idea…

  With the others, Carson hid his bike in the bushes near the soccer field and jogged toward the school buildings. Yukio pointed out the security cameras—his family had just put in a home security system—and led them around.

  Finally, they came to the building that held Jorgeson’s science classroom.

  At Brandon’s gesture, Juan stopped at the end of the sidewalk to keep watch. He was too short to see in the high windows anyway. The rest of them squeezed behind the man-high, sharp-edged palmetto bushes lining the back of the stucco building. Carson hissed as one sharp leaf stabbed his arm.

  The classroom should be somewhere in the middle. On tiptoes, Carson peered in a window. The room was dark. “English.” Were they really going to do this? His hands were cold even though sweat made his T-shirt stick to his back.

  “Music room,” Brandon said from farther down.

  “Here. This is Jorgeson’s room.” Yukio stepped back to let Ryan look.

  “That’s it. There’s that ugly-ass, dried-up frog he keeps on his desk.” Ryan turned to Brandon. “You got the bag of shit?”

  “Oh hell yeah.” Brandon took off his backpack and pulled out a small blanket. “Yukio, hold this in front of the window. Carson, grab a rock and hit the blanket. Bust a hole in the glass.”

  “Noise control.” Ryan nodded approval. “Smart.”

  Me? Why do I have to break the window? Carson’s heart hammered. Say no. Leave.

  “Hurry up, Cars,” Brandon snapped.

  Carson looked around and found a big rock.

  God, Mom would kill him if she ever found out about this. Did they send kids to jail for busting a window?

  But Jorgeson was a total asshole. Carson’d had strict teachers before, and even if they were a pain, they were fair. Jorgeson was purely a jerk, especially to mouthy kids like Ryan or the ones who couldn’t keep up, or didn’t do their homework. And he picked on girls and anyone of color, too. He’d get all sarcastic and nasty, and he’d made Ryan cry. Not sobbing or anything. Still, everybody could tell cuz Ryan’s eyes and his freckled face got red, and his lips pinched together, and he kept swallowing. And he wouldn’t talk with anyone for the rest of the day.

  That wasn’t right. It wasn’t. Mom always said to stand up for his friends and not give in to bullies.

  Jorgeson deserved a bag of shit in his classroom.

  Exchanging unhappy looks with Yukio, Carson gripped the rock and smacked the blanket-covered window.

  Nothing happened.

  “Use some muscle, wussie,” Brandon hissed.

  This time, Carson swung hard. The cracking sound of glass made him cringe.

  “Again,” Yukio whispered.

  Gritting his teeth, Carson hit the window hard, and it gave. Glass tinkled into the room. He ducked down behind the palmettos.

  Yukio crouched beside him.

  After pulling on thin gloves—like in those criminal shows—Brandon pulled out a bottle filled with clear liquid. When he unscrewed the lid, the scent of gasoline filled the air.

  Carson’s mouth dropped open. “What are you doing?”

  “My bag-of-shit idea was okay; this is better,” Brandon said.

  “I don’t know, BB,” Yukio whispered. “Fire?”

  “It’ll make a statement.” Brandon snorted. “But not much of one. The sprinkler systems’ll go on before anything much gets burned.”

  Start a fire? Horrified, Carson stared in disbelief.

  Ryan frowned, and then shrugged. “It’s not like anyone’s here over break.”

  Yukio looked worried, but he didn’t say anything.

  Biting his lip, Carson took a step away…and stayed silent.

  Brandon stuffed a long wadded up paper towel into the end of the bottle to plug the top. “Is there anybody around?”

  Looking down the line of palmettos, Ryan asked in a loud whisper, “Juan. Are we clear?”

  Juan gave a thumbs-up.

  “Here goes.” Brandon used a lighter and set the paper towel on fire. Standing up, he flung the bottle through the window. Sideways.

  Carson heard the bottle break and a sound—foomph. Frigging-A, they’d really set something on fire!

  “Let’s get out of here.” Brandon ran down the side of the palmettos, and the rest followed with Carson in the rear. He glanced back and could see that the science room’s window was no longer as dark as the others.

  When they reached their bikes, Brandon was giggling. Bouncing on his toes, he ordered, “Split up, and we’ll rendezvous at my place. See you there.”

  Carson pedaled to the left with Yukio beside him. As they turned the corner off the grounds, the fire alarms came on.

  Yukio looked back, then at Carson. “That was crazy.”

  “Yeah.” Carson’s palms were sweaty on the handlebars. “Let’s get out of here.”

  * * * * *

  Pleasantly stuffed with barbecue and potato salad—and the cherry cobbler Josie had made—Holt stretched his legs out and tilted his face up to the afternoon sun. Below the deck where he sat, a long expanse of white sand rolled down to the blue Gulf waters. The air was laden with the scents of brine and seaweed.

  Anne and Ben had a hell of a beach house—and Ben could grill a mean steak.

  Lazily, Holt watched Ben, Josie, and Rainie stroll the beach. Rainie’s fluffy dog, Rhage, and Ben’s beautiful golden retriever, Bronx, danced around them.

  Farther down, Cullen and Andrea, hand-in-hand, were walking off the big meal—or, as Cullen said, making room for more dessert.

  Jake had gone to the kitchen for more drinks.

  Holt glanced toward the house behind him, then up at the balcony overlooking the shore. Earlier, seeing how tired Anne had grown, Ben had taken his pregnant Mistress upstairs for a nap.

  Must be hell having an extra twenty pounds to lug around.

  A high yipping drew his attention back to the beach. Charging a gull, Rhage sent the bird screeching into the sky, before prancing proudly back to the women. Josie bent to ruffle his furry head, and Holt could hear her husky laughter.

  Her laugh had been mostly absent this afternoon. She’d been uncommonly withdrawn.

  Because she was reassessing what was between them.<
br />
  Because of last night.

  He’d never enjoyed an evening as much. She was a delight as a submissive and a lover, both responsive and intelligent. Not a pushover, but sweet and giving. Truly someone who took delight in serving. When she’d given him her trust and her body, he’d been honored. Last night, they’d been as close as two people could be.

  And he had a feeling it had scared her.

  Today, she’d pulled away. His sweet submissive was reestablishing her boundaries and shoring her defenses. That was her head talking. Her body—and her heart—disagreed, and today, every time she relaxed, she’d lean against him, all soft and submissive female. If he touched her, her eyes would heat…and then she’d take a step back.

  Her trust in him was warring with her distrust of men. Yeah.

  Trouble was, he was falling for her, hard and fast.

  He rubbed the back of his neck and sighed. Hell, it wasn’t as if he hadn’t known she had trust issues. That didn’t worry him. Working through problems was part of a Dom’s duties. Besides, he had a few potholes in his own past that’d keep life interesting.

  “Here you go.” Returning from the kitchen, Jake handed over a Mountain Dew, then dropped onto the love seat next to Holt’s chair.

  “Thanks.” Holt popped the top. He and Jake had been friends for a couple of years since the day Holt took a burned, bleeding poodle to the veterinarian’s not-yet-open clinic. A house fire had sent the dog’s family to the hospital. Rather than turning Holt away, Jake’d cared for the dog and taken it home with him until its owners recovered. The vet was good people.

  Holt took a long swallow of the Dew. Cold carbonated caffeine—what could be better?

  “I see our women are having a good walk.” Jake leaned back and stretched his legs out. “I like your subbie, by the way. Did you happen to see her with Anne?”

  “No, did they talk?”

  “While you were helping Ben repair the broken step.” Jake opened his soda. “After a few minutes with Josie, there Anne was, telling her about the difficulties of being pregnant and how Ben was driving her nuts, although she also loved being pampered.”

  “Compared to your Rainie, Josie doesn’t talk much, but people open up to her.”