Page 20 of Under His Control

The fingers of the hand cupping her breast found her nipple. It instantly stiffened to a hard point as he rolled and teased it. He squeezed and twisted, the pressure mounting until pleasure shifted to pain, the sensations blending and fusing into one.

Then his hand was on her sex again, fingers flicking, stroking, teasing. Ellen heard a husky, sultry sound it took her a moment to realize was her own voice. Unable to help herself, she ground herself against his hand, desperate for the promised release.

All at once, the hand was gone again from between her legs, though his fingers were still tight on her nipple. She felt his warm breath on her cheek as he murmured, “You’re such a dirty little girl, aren’t you, Ellen? You’re ready to come with just a few strokes of your Master’s hand.”

“Yes, Sir,” she agreed throatily. After the nearly constant stimulation of the past two days, she desperately wanted—needed—to come.

“Beg me,” he ordered, sending a jolt of submissive excitement through her core.

“Please, Sir. Touch me again. Make me come,” she begged. “Please.”

Oh god. Don’t let this be some sadistic ploy where he says no again. I’ll die if he does that.

To her trembling relief, he brought his hand again between her legs. She moaned with feral need as his fingers danced around and over her swollen, throbbing clit. She was dimly aware of the pressure still on her nipple but it only added to her masochistic pleasure.

He let her nipple go and she felt his warm palm against her chest. Then it slid upward, his fingers curling around her throat. He held her tight against him as he continued to play with her cunt, pinning her in place with his hand on her throat.

“Do it,” he commanded, his voice a dominant purr in her ear. “Give it to me. Now.”

“Oh, god,” she cried, the words wrenched from her lips as she crested a powerful climax and hurtled forward into it. She jerked and thrashed against him as she came hard—harder than she could ever remember coming.

But instead of his hand falling away, it continued to stroke and tease her. Hard fingers moved inside her while his palm ground against her throbbing, overly sensitized clit. His touch was rough and soft at the same time, like the flick of a cat’s tongue.

She wanted to push his hands away—to tell him to stop, it was too much. She bit her lower lip hard to keep from doing that. He had the right to touch her in any way he liked. Period.

Perhaps it was that thrilling realization that someone, finally, was taking the control of her that she’d only dreamed of until now. Not because he was training her, but because he owned her. Or perhaps it was because of his skilled fingers now gently but insistently probing her sex, his other hand still in a primal grip at her throat.

Whatever the reason, a second climax, as powerful as the first, roiled inside her. Another guttural cry of raw lust came from deep within her as she tumbled head over feet into a powerful orgasm that left her trembling and breathless.

Finally, his hands fell away, strong arms now wrapping around her in a secure, warm embrace. He held her until the trembling stopped and her heart slowed its frantic, booming pace.

She wanted to thank him with words and kisses, to worship his gorgeous cock, to laugh out loud from sheer joy. But she found herself too spent to move or even form a coherent thought. Instead, she floated on a cloud of deep, satiated contentment until sleep swallowed her like a pond gulping a pebble.

Chapter 9

Damon jolted awake, heart pounding. Instinctively, he reached for his weapon but found his arm was pinned down by something heavy and warm.

As his eyes adjusted to the dark and his senses slowly sharpened, he heard the sound of what must have awakened him. He snorted with relief and chagrin, the palpitations in his chest gradually subsiding. There had been no gunfire, no reek of sulfur and blood, no anguished cries. It was just the crackling logs of the dying fire in the other room.

Moonlight glimmered from the single window of the small bedroom, casting a silvery glow over the space. The weight on his arm wasn’t a fallen comrade, half his face blown away, blood pooling beneath him.

Pushing those images firmly aside, he smiled down at the sleeping woman. It was good to know she was so sexually responsive, along with being deeply submissive. He’d been gratified by what had clearly been two powerful orgasms on her part. It was a terrific power rush to control her body, her pleasure, her pain.

He was glad now that he’d signed on for the auction, and even gladder he’d won this particular girl. This setup offered the best of both worlds—an intensive BDSM exploration without the complication of an underlying relationship and all the expectations that came along with it. He and Ellen had a finite contract. No matter how far he took her or how intimate their interactions might become, at the end of the week they could each walk away—no expectations, no regrets.

Carefully, he eased his arm out from under Ellen’s body, careful not to wake her. She sighed softly and rolled from her side to her back, her cuffed wrists resting between her pretty breasts. Her eyes remained closed, the hint of a dreamy smile curving her lips.

She looked very young and innocent in sleep. Gently, he brushed a swath of hair from her face. An unexpected tenderness swept through him, cracking open a door in his heart he thought he’d slammed shut years ago.

He’d met Liesel at a BDSM club in Berlin, back before he’d begun training for special ops. She, too, came from a military family, and understood the obligations and risks that went along with that. At first, they’d just enjoyed intense scenes together at the club. It wasn’t long before he was spending every spare moment off the base with her.

She had been heavily into the scene—more so than he at the time—and she, like Ellen, had a high tolerance for erotic pain and a submissive streak a mile long. He felt powerful and in control when he was with her. But it was more than that. For the first—and the last—time in his life, Damon fell deeply, heedlessly, headlong in love. He’d believed he’d found the one—a woman who fit his groove but would give him the space he needed to flourish in his military career.

But then things got complicated. Damon was given the opportunity to train for special ops, which had always been his ultimate military career goal. Liesel was adamantly against it, insisting that he choose a less risky path. Suddenly, what had been pure, easy love was now tainted by guilt, pressure and unrealized expectations.

The stupid thing was, he had still been crazy in love with her. Yet he’d remained torn, unable or unwilling to choose between love and career. In the end, she made the decision for him, breaking things off and breaking his heart in the process.

It had taken him a long time to come back from that. Longer than he liked to admit. He’d been a fool to give his heart so freely—to let himself be that vulnerable. He swore then that it would never happen again.

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