Ella Dominguez - Becoming Sir

Fingering her chin, he narrowed his eyes and gave his final order. “Now you’re going to apologize to Isabel and Dylan for what you said. Then you’re going to say sorry to my date for having frightened her.”

The appalled and dazed expression on Sonya’s face almost made Sawyer laugh out loud again, but he suppressed the urge. “I’m not letting you leave here until you do,” he finished.

Knowing Sonya’s stubbornness would keep her from acting on his order, he firmly pushed her body toward the Youngs. Isabel was tucked into Dylan’s arm and peering out timidly while he was glaring angrily down at Sonya.

Sonya picked at her fake nails nervously and tried to back away, but Sawyer halted her escape with firm hands on her shoulders. Standing behind her and out of her view, he winked to Dylan and Isabel and an ornery smile briefly flashed across his face.

“Do it, Sonya, or else I’ll drag your ass into that club and make you watch a flogging scene.” Peeking over her shoulder and raising fine, arched eyebrows, she huffed in protest. “Or perhaps I’ll flog you myself seeing as you clearly need discipline and I’ve taken a liking to that sort of thing.”

Sonya inhaled sharply, wrinkled her nose in horror and pulled out of his reach, but summarily apologized, albeit less than sincere. She then faced Sarah and made her amends, and quickly retreated to the man who had pussed out and was hiding in her car. Just as she opened her car door, Sawyer called out to her. Lifting her face to him, he gave her a sympathetic smile.

“Take care of yourself, Lady Sonya.”

The night had been one of good conversation and shared knowledge, and he wondered why he had waited so long to go through with his training. The scene with Sarah, as always, had calmed his nerves after the drama with Sonya.

The highlight of the night had been the Youngs’ announcement of Isabel’s pregnancy. He couldn’t believe he was going to be an uncle. Or something like that. A bruncle? He laughed quietly to himself.

Everything seemed to be falling into place and it was an exhilarating feeling, but as Sawyer walked Sarah to her front door, he felt as though something was ending and a shiver of sadness rippled through him. Standing on the porch while she unlocked the door, he stared at the full moon in the darkened night sky.

Snowflake . The name formed on his lips unconsciously. It wasn’t so long ago that they had shared their first kiss in that very spot. He felt her arm slip into his and glanced in her direction.

She was staring at the moon as well and had a pensive, heartrending look on her face.

“Speak,” he touched her ruby lips.

“I can’t help but feel sorry for Sonya. She let a good man slip through her fingers and she knows what she lost. She looked so sad…” she sighed gloomily.

“You’re so kind, Sarah,” he leaned down, leaving small kisses all along her lips and jawline. “I guess we should say goodnight,” he said quietly, knowing he had to be up early and at Kerian’s first thing in the morning.

“Should we?” she asked, tilting her head back and peering at his face.

The beginning of a shy smile tipped the corners of her mouth. Her pull was magnetic and his arms encircled her, one hand on the small of her back.

She put her arms around his neck and breathed out, “Please, Sir, stay one last night with me before you give yourself to Ciara.”

His emotions whirled and skidded, and his senses reeled as if they had been short-circuited. He had never said he was giving himself to Ciara, or anyone for that matter. Why then would she assume such a thing? He let out a deep sigh, but drew his face near to hers.

“Yes, one last night,” he answered just before his lips captured hers.

His mind relived the velvet warmth of their first kiss and every one after that. Backing her into her home and into her small bedroom, Sawyer eased her down onto the bed. The outline of her form could be seen only faintly in the darkened room. Gently he lifted her dress and yanked the lacy cup of her bra down and traced the circle of her breast with a fingertip. His eyes traveled over her body and his hands slid across her silken belly.

As he removed his tie, Sarah moved instinctively, raising her hands above her head and crossing her wrists in anticipation of his wants.

“You know your Sir well…” he smiled, dipping his head down and skimming her sensitive, marbled nipples with his teeth. “…but right now I want to feel your hands on me. All of me.”

His tongue made a path down her ribs to her stomach while one hand slid down her waist to the swell of her hips. Passion pounded the blood through his heart, chest and head when Sarah spread her legs for him.

Nipping at her panty-covered mound, he held her gaze and breathed against her pussy, “I should probably apologize in advance for the ungentlemanly and filthy things I plan on doing to you. Like ripping the clothes off your perfect form, tying you down to within an inch of your life, and fucking that intelligent brain of yours out. But I’m not going to because I would be lying if I said I was sorry for doing it. And sorry, I am not nor ever will be.”

“It’s been too long since I’ve been with a man. Take me, Sir, and make me forgot just how long it’s been.”

Oh, he would make her forget. He was a man of his word and did exactly as he said he would by ripping her panties from her body roughly, the fabric disintegrating under his strong hands. Next, he pulled her dress off in one fluid motion above her head and tore at her bra, leaving all her clothing in a crumpled heap at the side of the bed.

Sarah clawed at him frantically, tearing at his clothing and panting like a wild animal. When they were finally naked, he reached over and flicked the lamp on so he could see every part of her physique in vivid clarity. He took in all the beautiful details of her body as if he were photographing her with his eyes. Her heated and languid eyes burned into him in silent expectation, and he couldn’t hold out any longer. He positioned himself between her legs and sank into her with one purposeful thrust, causing Sarah to moan out and thrash her head. The wet skin-to-skin contact and the sound of her voice was more intoxicating than any alcoholic beverage or drug, and Sawyer knew at that moment, with Sarah beneath him, submitting to his will, he would never need another drink again.

He lowered himself and buried his face in her tits, his grunts and moans smothered in her soft flesh as he pumped into her. Sarah’s hands found his hair and her nails grazed his scalp sending shivers down his spine.

“Sawyer… my Sir,” she breathed out.

Her hands then cascaded down the length of his back to his ass where she squeezed and dug her nails into him. The thrilling pain surged through his thighs and he ravaged her mouth, their tongues twisting together in rhythm like lovers on a dance floor. All of the sensations assaulting him were pure otherworldly bliss and electrifying.

Grabbing her around her waist, he flipped onto his back and hoisted her on top of him. She straddled him and planted her feet on the bed on either side of his thighs and lowered herself back onto him. She lifted herself slowly to the tip of his cock only to lower herself and engulf his dick completely, torturing him with her casual pace.

Sawyer watched her closely as she fucked him sweetly, her eyes fixed on his shaft as she impaled herself deeply over and over.

“What is that you’re so focused on?” he asked as if he didn’t know the answer.

Sarah gasped and looked up when he raised his pelvis and thrust up into her, breaking her concentration.

Her cheeks flushed the same color scarlet as her lips and she smiled, “I forgot how good my pussy looks being fucked.”