Sophie Oak - Siren Unleashed

Nothing could happen to her here. She was safe in the dungeon. Cal and Gaby watched. Gretchen sat nearby with one of the Doms, a very nice man named Tate. There were three dungeon monitors who checked everyone coming in and going out.

She let her fingers skim the warm flesh of his chest. He might look like he was sculpted from marble, but that skin was soft and hot. She watched as his muscles rippled under her palm. Arousal hummed through her. She wouldn’t do anything about it, but it felt good to know her parts still worked. She leaned in just a little and let his scent wash over her. Masculine and spicy, with just the slightest hint of his own arousal.

Power. This was what she’d missed all these long and lonely years. She’d missed the power of submission, to lose herself in the moment, to watch the big bad Dom’s muscles quiver because he was trying to maintain control.

She placed a palm flat on his chest. His heart beat right under her hand, an intimate rhythm she hadn’t felt in forever.

His eyes stayed on her. They weren’t arctic any longer. They mellowed to a sky blue and held her own. She knew what he was doing. He was taking in every aspect of her, watching for signs of arousal or fear or pain. Measuring her breathing and the way her hands trembled.

“Will you play with me, Sir?”

“Yes. I would love to play with you, sweetness.” He reached up slowly, giving her every chance to move away, but she’d decided she was safe for the moment. She let his fingers trace the curve of her jaw. “I can take care of you.”

It seemed almost a revelation, as though he was surprised he’d made the statement, but his jaw firmed, obviously waiting for her to deny him.

He needed her, too. She had no idea why this man was so scarred, but she felt it.

“Will you spank me? I don’t want to make a big deal out of it. I don’t want to get onstage or have a big scene. Just stop right here and spank me.”

His hand moved from her jaw to her throat, just barely touching her, so soft it was almost like he wasn’t there, just a whisper, a promise of things to come. “I’ll want your skirt up. I want to touch you. Not your pussy. I don’t have the right yet, but I want to caress your ass before I start.”

Her skin felt like it was on fire, but in a good way. And she had a confession to make. “I’m wearing underwear.”

He growled, a low, sexy sound. “Not if I’m going to spank you, you’re not. Give them up.”

Doms. They never took into account a girl’s tender sensibilities because in their world there wasn’t a place for embarrassment. It got in the way of more important things like pleasure and joy and self-acceptance.

If she’d really thought she would actually do this tonight, she would have worn nicer underwear, but no, she was completely out of practice and was wearing cotton panties with Scottish terriers on them. Sir stared at her, his blue eyes watching every move she made. His face was blank, but the coldness in him had evaporated, replaced with something that felt like anticipation and affection.

He liked her.

It made it much easier to push her skirt up and awkwardly step out of her undies. “Sorry.” She handed the slightly faded pair to him.

“You are never wearing these again. I might only play with you once, but this is my edict. No more underwear with dogs on them.”

He looked so horrified. He would be fun to tease, to pull out of his obviously dark spaces and force him to laugh from time to time. “You should see the ones with flamingos.”

He reached for a chair, shoving her sad little Scottie dogs into the pocket of his leathers. Even seated he was intimidating. He patted his lap. “Green, yellow, or red. Where are you right now?”

Ah, the stoplight system of safe words. “I’m green on the cusp of yellow.”

She wasn’t as panicked as she thought she would be, but then all she had to do was look around to see no one was going to let her get hurt. And Sir moved her. He was odd, sexy, slightly lost.

He was like her.

“We don’t start until you’re green, sweetness. I’m not going to scare you away.”

“Because you feel sorry for me?” She wasn’t going to be offended. After everything that had happened to her, she often felt sorry for herself, but she wanted to know where she stood with him.

“Because I really want to feel your ass.”

How could she possibly turn down such a charming man? She found herself smiling, freaking smiling. If he had been charming, she wouldn’t have trusted it, but this Sir didn’t hide behind a mask. “I’m green.”

“I bet you are. I bet you’re green as grass.”

She frowned. “You know I’m not. If you’re looking for innocence, you need another girl.”

“You’re innocent, sweetness. Don’t think because bad shit happened to you that you lost your innocence. It’s still there, but what I hope you learned is that you should surround yourself with people who will protect it, cherish it, not who gain pleasure from trying to wrest it from you. Your innocence has nothing to do with your hymen or how many times you’ve had a dick in your mouth. Innocence has more to do with who you are as a person. Answer me one question, Natalie, and I’ll tell you if you’re innocent or not. If you could go back in time, spare yourself every moment of the pain he caused you, erase it all, but leave the other two there with him, would you do it?”

Leave Gretchen and Kitten? “No. I would do it the same way. He was going to kill Gretchen. He would have done the same to Kitten eventually.”

His hand brushed hers. “Innocent. No one can take that from you, Natalie. Now let me help you. Let me show you that you can have this piece of your life back.”

She draped herself across his lap. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d done this willingly. His muscles were rock hard under her belly, and it wasn’t just his thigh.

“Ignore that. Where are we?”

“Green. We’re green, Sir.” Better than green actually. She was tense, but in that happy way because any minute his hand was going to smack her ass.

She felt him push her skirt up, the cool air hitting her skin. She took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her hands beginning to shake just a bit. What was she doing? Why the hell was she doing it?

His hand cupped her ass. “You’re beautiful.”

She couldn’t see him. Couldn’t see his face. Couldn’t see what he was going to do.

She heard the smack before she felt it. The hot, hard slap landed on her ass sending a harsh shock through her system. Pain. Tears flashed across her pupils, and just for a second, she wasn’t over this man’s lap but tied down and forced to take whatever Hawk dished out, praying for it to stop, one way or another.

“Natalie?”

“Do it again.” She wasn’t there. Hawk was dead. He couldn’t hurt her anymore, but she could damn straight hurt herself. She wanted to scream red and run and hide in her room, but she knew what would happen. She would find a way to cut herself because she couldn’t cry.

No hesitation. He smacked her ass again, twice and then three times, that huge hand covering whole sections of her skin in fiery pain. He didn’t hold back. This wasn’t erotic or sexy. It hurt like fuck.

She gritted her teeth, enduring. Each time he slapped her, his hand soothed, fingers tracing her skin as though she was fragile and he was trying to make sure he didn’t leave a mark. But she wanted the mark. She wanted to feel it tomorrow and remember that she’d gotten through it, that she’d taken it.

“Where are we, sweetness?”

“More, Sir.”

“Natalie,” he started, the hesitation in his voice causing her to grasp his ankles.

“Please. I hate fucking begging.”