Free Doms of Dark Haven 2: Western Night by & Cherise Sinclair Belinda McBride Sierra Cartwright Page B

slowly and gently entered her with his finger, taking time to stretch her opening slightly. Then, when she was prepared, he inserted the plug, driving it all the way in with a slight pop . He pulled back on it slightly before saying, “Done.”
    He was right; it had taken less than twenty seconds. And she’d spent more than ten minutes fretting.
    He turned her so that she was positioned between two mirrors and could see the sparkle from the plug’s jewels.
    Even she was surprised by how nice it looked, and how she barely noticed it in her. “Thank you for the butt plug, Sir.”
    “Not everything has to be a struggle,” he told her, not for the first time, as he helped her to stand. He dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Shower and meet me downstairs for breakfast. Skip the clothes. No more crawling unless ordered to, because I fancy watching you move.”
    She nodded.
    She showered and did her best to tame her hair with a brush and the hair dryer she found in a cabinet.
    She walked down the staircase, appreciating its carved elegance more now in the daylight than she had last night. The color was a luxurious honey brown, and the way it curled around was beautiful.
    He’d closed the blinds that were closest to floor level and left the others open. Rain drizzled against the windowpanes, but heated air spilled from the vents in the loft. He’d been busy. A plate of eggs and bacon sat on the table, and, lucky day, there was also fresh-squeezed orange juice in a glass and a steaming cup of coffee on the table.
    But it was her dom who made her heart trip.
    He wore tight jeans and a black T-shirt that emphasized his chest and muscular arms. Life could be much worse.
    He stood when she neared the table. He waited until she was seated before he took his chair again. She thought she might swoon from his old-world manners.
    He was right; her life would be much easier, much more pleasant, if she’d stop fighting him.
    “Eat up,” he told her. “You’ll need the sustenance.”
    As soon as they’d loaded the plates and cutlery in the dishwasher, he ordered her back to bed. “And crawl,” he said. “I want to see that butt bling.”
    He watched from the bottom of the stairs. “Oh, yeah,” he said with a low, appreciative whistle.
    For the first time in her life, she wasn’t self-conscious. She felt secure and confident in her body. If she were honest, she’d also admit she felt sexy as hell each time that small piece of steel moved inside her.
    He followed a few steps behind her.
    She knew she could stand when she reached the top of the stairs, but she stayed on all fours. If he wanted to appreciate the plug, she’d oblige him. She continued to crawl into his bedroom.
    “Lie down on the bed,” he told her. “On your back.”
    Good thing she hadn’t wasted time making it earlier.
    “Arms above your head, sub.”
    She curled her fingers around the headboard and watched as he stripped. His muscles were gorgeous; his arms were ripped, his legs solid and strong.
    He momentarily vanished into the closet. When he came back, he was wearing a condom and his left hand was closed in a fist.
    “I’ll be honest; it was all I could do to make it through breakfast,” he told her, kneeling on the mattress. “Having you across from me, naked, sitting on a plug. Count yourself lucky you got to eat.”
    He leaned over her and alternately sucked on each nipple, drawing them one at a time into his mouth and making them into tight little buds.
    He raised up and opened his hand, revealing a pair of vicious-looking nipple clamps attached by a length of metal chain.
    She pressed her lips together, determined not to ruin the moment by arguing. Her eyes were wide, though, as she watched him, and her stomach tightened into a furious knot of fear.
    “You’ve admitted to being a bit of a masochist,” he said.
    She decided silence was the better part of valor.
    “I’m starting you with tweezer clamps,” he said. “We can adjust the