gratified to see his cock flex in response. It was so swollen, the head so dark, it wouldn’t take much to tip him over the edge. She’d need all her wits about her to make sure that happened the way she wanted.
“I asked you this last Sunday night. Perhaps in your present state you’re more willing to answer my question now.” She lifted her wine glass, swirling the ruby liquid. “How is it that a man as obviously sexual as you are, so evidently a submissive, doesn’t have a permanent Mistress in his life?”
His eyes took on a shuttered look, and she could almost see the walls come up.
“I find it works better for me this way.” His voice was completely uninflected, which told her more than any anguish or passion could.
“And if I told you I wanted an exclusive arrangement with you? What would you say?”
“Your file says you haven’t had a long relationship with a sub since your divorce. I’d say that you’ve made the same choice I have. That’s why this would work for us. An occasional…session.”
“Occasional.” She repeated the word slowly. “Session.”
Like any available hookup at a private club. Her stomach knotted. Was that really how he saw this? What about the unknown cloud of emotion surrounding them? That powerful connection they’d both felt the first night at Rawhide?
He nodded. “No strings. No ties.”
“Despite the fact that we both know there’s something here more than rampant sexual attraction.”
“You and I both know that’s all it is. Nothing more. Neither of us wants to test deeper waters.”
Maybe you don’t, but you’re probably the only man that could make me change my mind.
Montana knew enough to switch topics at that point or the rest of the evening would be a disaster. But something settled in her stomach like a lump of concrete.
All right, then. If he just wanted to play, she’d give him a night to remember.
After she’d cleared the plates, she stood beside him and bent her head. Her lips settled on his, tasting the flavors of the lasagna, the salad dressing, and the wine. And Clint. His own special taste. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, gliding over the smooth surfaces, urging his to dance with hers. She took the kiss deeper, not touching any other part of his body but swallowing his responsive groans with satisfaction.
When she’d eaten her fill of his mouth, she straightened. “I think we should return to the bedroom. I haven’t nearly finished your punishment.”
The fire was back in his eyes, and they gleamed with lust.
He rose then bowed his head. “I await your pleasure.”
She’d left the candles burning in the bedroom, and the air was still redolent with the scent of lavender. She inhaled deeply, holding the aroma inside herself before slowly releasing it and turning to Clint.
She decided to use the nipple clamps, taking each hard bud into her mouth to pull it to full erection before attaching each tiny set of teeth. She was rewarded by the involuntary tensing of muscle as each clamp was fastened in place. She allowed herself the pleasure of gliding her hands over his body once more before reaching for one of the silk scarves.
Replacing the bullet gag in his mouth, she buckled the straps in place behind his head. This time, she bound his hands in front of him, bending him over the foot of the bed and stretching the ends of the long scarf to the headboard where she fastened it. She left his ankles free but nudged them wide with the toe of her boot. When she picked up the fiberglass cane, she drew it across the coverlet to let him look at it.
“Ten strokes. Just like with the paddle.”
His big, lean body tensed once then settled into itself.
The first slap was a brief one, with a lot of wrist action, leaving a thin red stripe across the other marks on his thighs.
And as before, she varied the length of time between each one so he couldn’t prepare himself. Keeping him off balance was part of the satisfaction for both of
“I asked you this last Sunday night. Perhaps in your present state you’re more willing to answer my question now.” She lifted her wine glass, swirling the ruby liquid. “How is it that a man as obviously sexual as you are, so evidently a submissive, doesn’t have a permanent Mistress in his life?”
His eyes took on a shuttered look, and she could almost see the walls come up.
“I find it works better for me this way.” His voice was completely uninflected, which told her more than any anguish or passion could.
“And if I told you I wanted an exclusive arrangement with you? What would you say?”
“Your file says you haven’t had a long relationship with a sub since your divorce. I’d say that you’ve made the same choice I have. That’s why this would work for us. An occasional…session.”
“Occasional.” She repeated the word slowly. “Session.”
Like any available hookup at a private club. Her stomach knotted. Was that really how he saw this? What about the unknown cloud of emotion surrounding them? That powerful connection they’d both felt the first night at Rawhide?
He nodded. “No strings. No ties.”
“Despite the fact that we both know there’s something here more than rampant sexual attraction.”
“You and I both know that’s all it is. Nothing more. Neither of us wants to test deeper waters.”
Maybe you don’t, but you’re probably the only man that could make me change my mind.
Montana knew enough to switch topics at that point or the rest of the evening would be a disaster. But something settled in her stomach like a lump of concrete.
All right, then. If he just wanted to play, she’d give him a night to remember.
After she’d cleared the plates, she stood beside him and bent her head. Her lips settled on his, tasting the flavors of the lasagna, the salad dressing, and the wine. And Clint. His own special taste. Her tongue slipped into his mouth, gliding over the smooth surfaces, urging his to dance with hers. She took the kiss deeper, not touching any other part of his body but swallowing his responsive groans with satisfaction.
When she’d eaten her fill of his mouth, she straightened. “I think we should return to the bedroom. I haven’t nearly finished your punishment.”
The fire was back in his eyes, and they gleamed with lust.
He rose then bowed his head. “I await your pleasure.”
She’d left the candles burning in the bedroom, and the air was still redolent with the scent of lavender. She inhaled deeply, holding the aroma inside herself before slowly releasing it and turning to Clint.
She decided to use the nipple clamps, taking each hard bud into her mouth to pull it to full erection before attaching each tiny set of teeth. She was rewarded by the involuntary tensing of muscle as each clamp was fastened in place. She allowed herself the pleasure of gliding her hands over his body once more before reaching for one of the silk scarves.
Replacing the bullet gag in his mouth, she buckled the straps in place behind his head. This time, she bound his hands in front of him, bending him over the foot of the bed and stretching the ends of the long scarf to the headboard where she fastened it. She left his ankles free but nudged them wide with the toe of her boot. When she picked up the fiberglass cane, she drew it across the coverlet to let him look at it.
“Ten strokes. Just like with the paddle.”
His big, lean body tensed once then settled into itself.
The first slap was a brief one, with a lot of wrist action, leaving a thin red stripe across the other marks on his thighs.
And as before, she varied the length of time between each one so he couldn’t prepare himself. Keeping him off balance was part of the satisfaction for both of
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