The Billionaire's Ink Mistress: Billionaires in Bondage, Book 2 Page 12

  “Yes,” he ground out. She arched her brows expectantly until he continued, “Yes, I’m hard. Priestess.”

  She landed another blow, slowly making her way back up the sloped planes of his lower back and shoulders. “You have such a lovely back, Angel. I’m almost glad you’re fallen, so I don’t have to worry about damaging your wings.”

  He growled beneath his breath. “I never had wings. I’ve been chained to a desk since I graduated.”

  Sadness welled up inside her, bringing tears to her eyes. “Then I’ll give you wings, Angel.”

  The leather straps began to cut a little, enough that he couldn’t hold back the slight grunts of effort. Not to endure, because she wasn’t really hurting him, but to remain on his knees. Because those blows inflamed him. As each inch of his back burned to life, he had to fight the urge to push up to his feet and do something foolish.

  Like sweep her up into his arms and carry her somewhere his friend’s modesty wouldn’t matter.

  The more sounds that escaped his throat, the harder she laid that flogger into his back. It was a vicious cycle of lust and stinging flesh, straining muscle and burning skin. Sweat trickled down his spine, increasing the flames licking at his skin. He humped his shoulders to ease the strain on his arms, only to earn a concentrated string of blows back and forth across his upper body, the leather strands snaking down his biceps. To rise up that much, he had to bump his hips up against the edge of the ottoman harder, stirring his erection even more. Panting, he tried to push the sensation away by reciting case law in his mind, but he couldn’t even remember his client list right now past Morgan Industries.

  “What am I looking for, Angel?” At least she’d toned down that eerily powerful Priestess voice to the Mistress persona he was more familiar with. Lush velvet tones caressed his body as surely as the flogger dancing across his skin. He tried to keep his eyes focused on her, but they kept rolling back in his head. “Don’t you know?”

  No. He didn’t. He tried to say it aloud, but his mouth didn’t seem connected to his brain any longer. A travesty for a man like him. He could always count on his mind and his mouth, his two greatest assets. Evidently not where the Priestess was concerned.

  She delivered another powerful blow against his buttocks that made him drive his hips forward, grinding into the ottoman. His breath tore out of his throat on a vicious groan. Agony and ecstasy at the same time. He wanted to be driving into her so badly that his entire existence tunneled down to her. Her scent, her voice, her skin. He could almost feel her beneath him, her fingers tangling in his hair, her dirty whispers driving him onward mercilessly.

  And suddenly he knew what she wanted.

  She wanted him out of control, wild and reckless with his lust, just like that night at the hotel. No thinking, no gentlemanly control, because in the end, only she had control in this.

  Twisting his hands so he could grip the edge of the ottoman, he deliberately thrust harder against the cushion, bucking more wildly as she rewarded him with harder blows. Nothing mattered but her, not the watchers, his job, their differences, nothing. She was all. She was everything.

  “Diana!” he roared, straining so hard he tore his hands free of the belt from her dress. Yet he clamped his hands harder on the ottoman, refusing to abandon his position. She’d put him here and here he’d remain, until she freed him.

  Until she gives me wings.

  Stupid thought, half delirious with lust. Every breath made his chest shudder against the cushion, but he hadn’t come. Again, because she hadn’t given him the order. He laughed, or at least tried to, though it sounded more like a strangled sob.

  Her hands stroked over his shoulders and back, a soothing balm that slowly calmed him. He lay on the cushion gasping for breath and so ridiculously pleased he wanted to punch himself in the head. Pleased, because he’d done as she ordered. He hadn’t come, he hadn’t abandoned his position, and he’d endured everything she gave him. Why did it mater so much to him? Nothing made sense anymore. It was like she’d tipped his entire world over on its opposite axis.

  “Shhh,” she whispered against his ear, drawing him closer so his head pillowed against her chest. “I’m so proud of you, Angel. You gave me exactly what I wanted. That was gorgeous. You’re gorgeous. I’m so lucky that you’re allowing me to teach you what it means to submit.”

  On the verge of breaking down, now he was worried about their audience. He didn’t want his friend watching him fall apart over this. Over being brought to the edge of something momentous, even though he didn’t fully understand why it was so important to him. Luckily he heard the other couples’ voices moving away and a door shutting firmly behind them. Relaxing against Diana, he tried to make sense of what he was feeling. Shaken and weak…yet so strong at the same time. She hadn’t done anything horrible to him. So why did he feel like the earth had spun completely out of control? It wasn’t like she’d thoroughly humiliated him in front of everyone.

  “Lie here a minute and let me turn up the lights so I can check your back.”

  She moved away and he closed his eyes, fighting the urge to cling to her and beg her not to leave, even for a second. The overhead lights came on, pushing him even further from the closeness they’d just shared. He didn’t want it to end, even if he had to remain on his knees while she whipped him some more. That closeness, that sense of connection, even belonging. He’d never felt that before, even though he’d only known her a short time.

  Her fingers glided over his back, stroking the welts she’d left. It made him tremble, emotion rising up in him, and when she leaned down to kiss those marks so gently, it swept him out to sea. He was lost for a while, bobbing helplessly, and yeah, when he finally lifted his head to meet her gaze, his cheeks were wet.

  “Can we go find a bed now?”

  She laughed softly and brushed her mouth against his. “Absolutely.”

  Holding his gaze, she wrapped the belt that had been around his hands around his throat, running the end through a loop to make a simple noose. Slowly, she drew it tight enough he could feel the leather against his skin, the slight pressure on his windpipe. A new feeling washed over him, leaving him shivering again. Leashed. Bound. So easily controlled as she stood and drew him up with her.

  “Is this okay, Angel?”

  He swallowed hard and nodded. Yeah. It was okay. It was so okay he wouldn’t mind if Donovan was standing outside the door watching as she led him upstairs to bed. Because Jackson finally understood why his friend got that hot, desperate look in his eyes whenever Lilly touched that chain around his throat.

  Owned. Body and soul.

  He followed Diana out the door and up the grand stairway without looking around to see who might notice. His shirt flapped open down the back, his skin probably streaked red because he could still feel the burn of each lash. With a leather strap around his throat. He was almost tempted to hesitate, only to feel the belt tighten around his neck.

  Now he had something else to burn with jealousy over, until Diana put a collar around his neck too. A real collar, like Donovan’s.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Looking at this gorgeous man standing at the foot of the bed with a belt wrapped around his neck, Diana made herself drop the end of leather and leave him standing, waiting, while she prepared for bed. He’d given the other guests a good show. Now it was her turn to reward him. She took her time removing the cocktail dress and even put it back on the hanger. She’d never spent so much on a dress before, but the smoking heat in his eyes made it worth a hundred times more. She’d have to go shopping again and see what other goodies she could find. He might not be a leather and latex sort of guy, but the subtle and elegant dress had sure tickled his fancy, especially that belt. According to the designer’s website, that was exactly the intent.

  With that low-cut back, a bra hadn’t been possible, and she’d only worn a basic pair of bla
ck lace panties—not even a thong. But his eyes locked on her, worshiping her every step as she moved closer to him. He didn’t lift his hands to touch her, tightening his hands into fists at his sides to restrain himself. Smiling, she unbuckled his dress belt and unbuttoned his pants. “I think I’ll use you real good tonight, Angel.”

  His chin dropped to his chest and he breathed deeply, his body shaking. “Whatever you say, Priestess.”

  She leaned in and rubbed her lips over his ear. “I love it when you wait for me to tell you what to do. When you fight yourself not to touch me. So tonight, all you’re touching me with is your mouth.” She unzipped his pants and the material puddled around his ankles. “Take off your shoes and socks and then lie flat on your back on the bed.”

  Deliberately, she didn’t say anything about the belt on his neck to see if he’d take it off. He toed off his shoes and bent down to yank his dress socks off, but left her belt like a noose on his throat. A good sign that he someday wouldn’t mind the presence of a collar.

  Watching him go to the bed and lie back as she’d ordered, she forced herself to be realistic. It might not be her collar. Ever. The chances of making it work out were so slim…

  “I’m ready, Priestess. Use me as you will.”

  His words burned through her, spurring her to action. No more play time. This was real, so real. Too real. Because as she stripped off the black lace and crawled up on the bed to straddle his head, all she could see in her mind was her collar on his throat. Her tats on his body. Especially those black wings down his back.

  Groaning, he fisted his hands in the sheets and lifted his head, pressing his face against her harder. He shook his head, moving his mouth and chin and nose all over, staying within her no hands rule but using his entire face to pleasure her. She reached back to find the trailing belt around his neck and tightened it, just enough to remind him that it was there. That she had control over him. Rocking her hips, she let her head fall back and simply reveled in the sensations. His mouth sucking on her clit, his stubbled jaw rubbing against her, his groans that vibrated through her.

  It didn’t take long until she shuddered and bucked against his mouth. So good, having a man beneath her, willing to let her take her pleasure as long as she wanted. He looked up at her, eyes wide open without any hesitation, even though she’d reflexively jerked on that belt a couple of times. A Dominant lived for that look of complete and utter submission. That look said he wouldn’t care if she rode his face for the rest of the night. He’d eat her up as long as she’d be willing to let him, and suffocate himself without batting an eye if so ordered.

  That look only made her want his cock deep inside her.

  She leaned over enough to snag the waiting condom off the night table and backed down his body. Playfully, she rubbed herself against his straining erection while she tore the package open.

  “The chastity thing you were talking about,” he groaned out, arching beneath her. “What’s it like? Really?”

  “I haven’t had the pleasure of using one myself, since I’ve never had a sweet boy like you committed to me long enough to give it a try.” She reached back and wrapped her fingers around his cock and balls in a tight ring. “Cold metal tight, holding everything in place. The cage slides over the cock when it’s limp, so this impressive erection just wouldn’t be possible. There wouldn’t be room inside for it to expand. Of course you being a randy boy, you won’t be able to help but swell and harden, causing yourself more and more discomfort. For some men, that pain only increases their excitement, though. It’s all part of the fun, though I don’t think it’s quite right for you, Angel.”

  “No?” he panted. “Why?”

  “Because it’s as much about humiliation as domination.” Releasing him, she moved further down onto his thighs so she could slide the condom into place. “Men in chastity have to sit to take a piss like a girl. Can you imagine walking into one of those swanky men’s restrooms in your firm, or when you’re wining and dining a client, and having to go into the stall? Worrying that another man might see? It’s also popular for men in chastity to wear pretty little panties with lace and bows, another way to show that their dick isn’t even their own anymore.”

  “Oh.” He looked up at her, caressing her breasts with those brilliant eyes until her nipples hardened. “I like the idea of you owning my dick. Owning me. Though you’re right, the humiliation isn’t really my thing. But if you…”

  She leaned down and fisted her hand in his hair, jerking his head back firmly so he looked into her eyes. “Now you listen to me, Jackson. Exploration and curiosity are well and good, but you have to be confident and secure enough in your trust in me to tell me when you have a problem with something. Don’t you dare give me this ‘but if you want to’ bullshit. We’ve got a long ways to go yet but I know you well enough to be pretty confident that humiliation isn’t your kink.”

  “What is my kink?”

  “This.” She jerked his head again, using her strength to pin his head against the pillow. “A little of this,” she said, using her other hand to tighten the belt in a slow, steady pull that made his eyes widen. “Oh, and you definitely liked me punishing you, especially in front of our guests. You like to be exposed, to see other people exposed, but humiliation isn’t part of it.”

  He tried to keep his face smooth, calling up his haughty hide-all lawyer face. “I’d let you do just about anything you wanted to me as long as I ended up here.”

  “That’s all it was, huh?” Ever so slowly, she pushed down on him, loving the way his cock filled her. He wasn’t a huge man, but he was nice and thick, stretching her inner walls deliciously. “You just wanted inside me? You didn’t want me to peel back your layers, to begin exposing the real you underneath your expensive suits and your fine education?”

  Wordlessly, he shook his head, the tendons in his neck and shoulders standing out as he fought to restrain himself. He twisted his fists in the bedding and groaned deep in his throat, the raw, desperate sound of a man on the edge.

  She leaned down over him, rubbing her breasts against his chest while she rode him. Not soft and gentle, no, that would be too easy. She pushed him hard, grinding her pelvis against his so hard her clit throbbed. Rising up, rocking, working him deep inside her, she waited to see how long it’d take for him to break. If he could last until she came again. If he could keep his hands off her. If…

  His back bowed, every muscle straining. His face twisted in a grimace and the sound of tearing cloth mixed with the rasp of his heavy breathing. But he didn’t lay a finger on her.

  Sitting up, she pushed him as deeply as possible and let her head fall back. He bucked up beneath her again and it was enough to set off a cascade of pleasure rippling through her body. She twisted another length of belt around her wrist and forced her eyes open so she could watch. “Now, Angel. Show me what you’ve been missing all week.”

  Clamping his hands on her thighs, he hauled her down and jerked his hips up at the same time. He managed to thrust with enough power to lift them both higher, his face red with strain. His hips surged so high only his shoulders touched the mattress and he roared out her name. Spasm after spasm rocked his body, sending another wave of pleasure through her.

  She collapsed against his chest, her shaking fingers immediately checking to make sure the belt hadn’t gotten too tight. Snug, but not tight enough to constrict his breathing. All that panting and gasping was from exertion.

  Lightly, his hands roamed her back, his fingers brushing her skin hesitantly, as if he wasn’t quite sure he had permission to touch her yet. She snuggled down into his arms, tucking her face up against his neck. More sure, he tightened his arms around her and slowly his breathing steadied. She thought he was almost asleep when he whispered.

  “Diana?”

  “Hmmm?”

  “Did you really mean it? What you said?”

  She l
ifted her head and looked into his eyes. A feeling rose inside her chest, a heaviness that made her heart beat faster and her breathing shallow. A solemn weight of knowledge and trust. His eyes were so raw and vulnerable, shaken by what she’d said, and yet desperate with hope, too. So afraid to hope for more, and yet horribly afraid of losing his mind with loneliness. That suave, confident lawyer mask was just that. A mask, hiding the broken fallen angel inside.

  “Yes,” she whispered solemnly, stroking her thumb over his lip. “I see you. I see the real you.”

  His eyes glimmered in the moonlight, dark with unspoken fear. He tensed beneath her, as if he was preparing to flee. Or bracing for her to jump from the bed and escape. “And you…” He swallowed hard and averted his face.

  Firmly, she gripped his chin and turned his face back to hers. She leaned down so her breath caressed his face and there could be no doubt in his heart that she meant her words. “I’m still here. I’m not going anywhere. Not until you’re ready to fly on your own.”

  The vibrating tension in his body leaked away and he eased into her arms. “I’ll never fly away from you.”

  She held him, stroking his hair as he drifted to sleep. His words rang in her head. This was a promise he’d most likely break. Yet she couldn’t be angry with him. She’d known from the beginning that he’d never be able to stay. He had too much to lose.

  I just have to be sure he doesn’t steal all of my heart when he leaves. Just a piece or two.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Diana’s Mustang purred like a giant cat, making short work of the trip back to the Twin Cities. Jackson hadn’t worried about running out of conversation once. There wasn’t anything worse than being trapped in a small, enclosed space with someone in awkward silence for mile after mile. With her, the miles had just disappeared. Poof, they were rolling off the freeway into Minneapolis. His frustration came not from a long, boring car ride, but from the knowledge that time was trickling away much too quickly. In a matter of hours, he’d have to catch his plane.