Free Masters 01 Master of the Mountain by Cherise Sinclair Page B
Authors: Cherise Sinclair
Tags: Erótica
looked up at the glowing amber glass on the ceiling fan, the lantern-style lights on the walls. Way too much illumination. Yes, he'd probably gotten a glimpse of scars and jiggles before, but no need to give him a nice, long look now. “Maybe we should move to a bed,” she suggested. And get it on under the covers. Excellent idea.
As his gaze followed hers, his eyes narrowed. He cupped her cheek, watching her face, and his other hand slid her zipper down. She stiffened. Darn it, she didn't want him to see her like this. She glanced at the lanterns again.
Without a word, he rose and walked around the room, flipping off the lights. The crackling fire glowed golden on his bare shoulders as he returned to sit beside her.
Had she been that obvious? Surely he didn't know why she'd been nervous.
“We're going to have to deal with your self-image one of these days,” he murmured, shattering that hope. He unwrapped her arms from her waist and replaced them behind her neck. “You don't trust me enough for me to cuff your hands behind your back, sugar. But you are sorely tempting me. Leave your hands there. Are we clear?”
Cuffs? Oh my God. “Clear. Yes.” But the thought of being restrained like that sent quivers into her stomach. Was it nerves or excitement? She couldn't tell.
He smiled into her eyes. “Like that thought, do you?” Without a moment's hesitation, he yanked her jeans right off her. She felt exposed as he traced a finger over her breasts, down the pudgy stomach she tried to suck in. With the same finger, he hooked her panties and pulled them slowly off.
Here she was, naked, and he still had his pants on. Why did that bother her so much right now? She'd had lovers before, but something about the way he treated her kept her off balance.
Aroused.
He set his hand against her pussy, pressing lightly, as if he could feel the heavy throbbing. Leaning forward, his hand still between her legs, he kissed her lightly but pulled back when she tried to deepen it, giving her only what he wanted. With her hands behind her head, she couldn't pull him closer.
“If you were mine, this would be shaved. Bare to the world.” Watching her face, he slid one finger through her wet folds, making her insides clench. “Bare to my touch.”
Chapter Seven
Logan rose to his feet. “There are a few basic rules that most Doms and subs follow.”
Rebecca sat up and pulled a loose blanket from the back of the couch over her lap. Her lips formed the word Dom . That must be short for dominant and then sub for submissive. This was a whole new world, wasn't it?
“While we are…we'll call it playing, you don't speak without permission. You will call me 'Sir,' and if given an order, your only response should be, 'yes, Sir.' You kneel on the floor unless given permission otherwise.” He paused and tilted his head.
Rebecca frowned. This sounded an awful lot like slavery; she didn't like it at all. But her pussy had tightened, burning as his words continued. Still processing his words, she looked up. He'd crossed his arms, and his eyes almost froze her. “What?” she asked.
His brows drew together, and he pointed to the rug at his feet.
Oh spit . Don't talk. Say, yes, Sir. Kneel. Kneel . She slid off the couch onto her knees, put her hands in her lap, and tried to look properly repentant. Something inside her wanted to laugh.
“Better.” Logan bent and with firm hands separated her knees to expose her crotch. “Some Doms want a sub's hands open like this”—he placed her hands on her thighs, palms up—“but I prefer your arms behind your back, fingers laced together.” He tilted his head and waited until she complied.
At the feel of his hands on her legs, positioning her as if he had every right to do so, her laughter disappeared. Her body abruptly turned on as if he'd hit a light switch. One hundred watts' worth. With her hands behind
As his gaze followed hers, his eyes narrowed. He cupped her cheek, watching her face, and his other hand slid her zipper down. She stiffened. Darn it, she didn't want him to see her like this. She glanced at the lanterns again.
Without a word, he rose and walked around the room, flipping off the lights. The crackling fire glowed golden on his bare shoulders as he returned to sit beside her.
Had she been that obvious? Surely he didn't know why she'd been nervous.
“We're going to have to deal with your self-image one of these days,” he murmured, shattering that hope. He unwrapped her arms from her waist and replaced them behind her neck. “You don't trust me enough for me to cuff your hands behind your back, sugar. But you are sorely tempting me. Leave your hands there. Are we clear?”
Cuffs? Oh my God. “Clear. Yes.” But the thought of being restrained like that sent quivers into her stomach. Was it nerves or excitement? She couldn't tell.
He smiled into her eyes. “Like that thought, do you?” Without a moment's hesitation, he yanked her jeans right off her. She felt exposed as he traced a finger over her breasts, down the pudgy stomach she tried to suck in. With the same finger, he hooked her panties and pulled them slowly off.
Here she was, naked, and he still had his pants on. Why did that bother her so much right now? She'd had lovers before, but something about the way he treated her kept her off balance.
Aroused.
He set his hand against her pussy, pressing lightly, as if he could feel the heavy throbbing. Leaning forward, his hand still between her legs, he kissed her lightly but pulled back when she tried to deepen it, giving her only what he wanted. With her hands behind her head, she couldn't pull him closer.
“If you were mine, this would be shaved. Bare to the world.” Watching her face, he slid one finger through her wet folds, making her insides clench. “Bare to my touch.”
Chapter Seven
Logan rose to his feet. “There are a few basic rules that most Doms and subs follow.”
Rebecca sat up and pulled a loose blanket from the back of the couch over her lap. Her lips formed the word Dom . That must be short for dominant and then sub for submissive. This was a whole new world, wasn't it?
“While we are…we'll call it playing, you don't speak without permission. You will call me 'Sir,' and if given an order, your only response should be, 'yes, Sir.' You kneel on the floor unless given permission otherwise.” He paused and tilted his head.
Rebecca frowned. This sounded an awful lot like slavery; she didn't like it at all. But her pussy had tightened, burning as his words continued. Still processing his words, she looked up. He'd crossed his arms, and his eyes almost froze her. “What?” she asked.
His brows drew together, and he pointed to the rug at his feet.
Oh spit . Don't talk. Say, yes, Sir. Kneel. Kneel . She slid off the couch onto her knees, put her hands in her lap, and tried to look properly repentant. Something inside her wanted to laugh.
“Better.” Logan bent and with firm hands separated her knees to expose her crotch. “Some Doms want a sub's hands open like this”—he placed her hands on her thighs, palms up—“but I prefer your arms behind your back, fingers laced together.” He tilted his head and waited until she complied.
At the feel of his hands on her legs, positioning her as if he had every right to do so, her laughter disappeared. Her body abruptly turned on as if he'd hit a light switch. One hundred watts' worth. With her hands behind