Free For the Sub by Sierra Cartwright Page B

towards her.
    “That’ll burn like a bitch.”
    “Take it like a woman.”
    “I don’t want to!” She squealed in mock terror.
    The dogs danced around and barked as he drew back his hand. He continued to swirl the fabric.
    “Present your ass, sub.”
    “I promise to make you work like a hired hand next time you’re here. I’ll even let you put away all the leftovers by yourself. You can scrub the floors if you want. With a toothbrush. I’ll sit and watch television while you do it. Promise.”
    “This will hurt more if I make you remove your skirt.”
    “Oh fine. Hit me with your best shot.” With a saucy grin, she turned her backside to him and flicked her ponytail. She intended to skitter out of his reach by the time he let the towel fly. But his speed stunned her. He flicked his wrist, catching her bottom in a searing strike. “Yowzer!”
    “Now can we clean the kitchen, or would you like to argue some more?”
    Turning to face him, she rubbed the sting. “Damn, Sir, you don’t show any mercy.”
    “Do you want me to?”
    Did she? Their gazes locked.
    “I want what you’re offering,” she confessed.
    “Good. Me, too.” He tossed the towel towards the counter, but Dana snatched it from mid-air and hurried off to her crate. “You were right. She is fast. Sorry about that.”
    MW’s nails scrabbled on the tiled floor as he struggled to keep up so he could nip the larger dog’s heels.
    “I’ll get it later. If I try to get it now, she’ll think we are playing tug-of-war.”
    When they ignored the animals, they settled down.
    “Get to work,” he instructed. He raised an eyebrow. “Unless you want another spanking.”
    “Sorry, Sir, was that supposed to be motivation?”
    “I could withhold one for the next few weeks.”
    “Anything but that,” she protested as she bent to grab the dish soap from beneath the sink. She didn’t miss the fact he was speaking in terms of seeing each other in the future or the fact his eyes no longer seemed shadowed by pain.
    Fifteen minutes later, he closed the last cupboard door. Every surface had been washed and dried. Even the floor had been swept.
    “Now…” he said, reaching for her and drawing her near like he had earlier.
    She settled into his arms with alarming ease.
    “Getting that finished wasn’t so bad. Was it?”
    “You were right, Sir.”
    “My favourite words,” he said.
    “Of course they are.” Brandy wound her hands around his neck. For this moment, it was as if they were new lovers as well as submissive and Dominant. His cock pressed against her, and her pussy moistened in immediate response.
    When he narrowed his eyes, putting all his focus solely on her, her knees weakened. She leaned against him more and dug her fingers into his hair. “Want,” she murmured.
    Brandy had thought she’d been prepared… He claimed her mouth with deliberation mixed with longing. His tongue brushed hers in a gentle tease rather than the intensity she’d expected.
    He tasted of beer with a faint undertone of chocolate. She hadn’t known he had a sweet tooth.
    With slow, measured precision, he deepened the kiss. Her body came to life.
    Her Dom opened his mouth wider and demanded deeper access. Then he splayed a hand across her buttocks and brought her in even closer. She met him with fire rather than submissive inevitability.
    He was muscle and sinew and relentless male energy. He moved his other hand to her upper back and applied enough pressure to smash her breasts again his chest. Every breath she took was stamped by his masculine essence.
    Deftly, he manoeuvred them so that he could grab the hem of her sweater and pull it over her head.
    He looked at her bared torso. Her breasts felt heavy, and her nipples ached for his attention.
    “Making you go braless was a bad decision.”
    Her skin heated beneath his smouldering approval. “Was it, Sir?”
    “Torture,” he added.
    “For me, too.”
    “Oh?”
    “You pinched my nipples earlier, and all