Cherise Sinclair - The Dom's Dungeon

She glanced up at him, knowing she must look a sweaty, awful sight, but he was smiling at her in an odd way. Like…like when a child had burst into the office to show off her starred report card and her mother had smiled in just that way. Tender. Proud.

Her breath hitched, and for some strange reason, her eyes burned.

He never moved. Just waited.

She blinked, breathed, gathered her scattered thoughts. Sex. We're having sex here, MacKensie. Get with the program . Holding her breath, she daringly rose up farther, then eased back. How could a vagina that had never felt anything before suddenly be so excruciatingly sensitive? Up, down. Her clit throbbed, and everything around his cock started to throb too. Up, down. Faster.

Their joining made squishy sounds, sounds she'd always thought were gross, flesh on flesh. Now even the sounds were exciting. Alex was inside her.

She increased the pace, and her need increased. But nothing quite worked. Her climax seemed just out of reach. She whimpered in frustration. “I don't know how…”

“Let me help, sweetheart.” And rather than pounding into her like she had expected, he moved just his hand. His fingers slid to the juncture of their bodies, and the next time she came down, he stroked her pussy. Her whole body went rigid. She groaned and went up and down again, and his finger slid across her clit, pressing against it. The sensations from inside her expanded, joined with those from her clit, and suddenly she screamed as everything, everything inside her burst, spasming through her in heart-stopping pleasure so brilliant, the moon faded.

She barely moved, and another wave crashed through her. And another. Her heart had somehow lodged high in her chest, pounding so intensely, it hurt.

Finally she dropped down onto him, a quivering mess, still jerking with the aftershocks. “I… God…” she managed to whisper, feeling as if the world had edged sideways, as if reality itself had changed.

When his arms came around her, she almost cried at the sense of being anchored. He stroked her hair and murmured, “That had to be one of the bravest things I've ever seen, little vet. I'm proud of you.”

It came again, that fuzzy feeling inside just from his words and his deep voice. She rubbed her cheek against him. He was proud of her.

So was she, come to think of it. I had sex. Real sex with a man.

A few minutes later, a cramp in her legs caught her by surprise. She started to move…and froze. He was still inside her and still completely erect. What have I done? She sat up quickly and moaned at the amazing sensation as her weight drove him deeper inside her. “Oh frak, I'm sorry. Sorry. You didn't get off, and I did. I'm sorry.”

A long sigh. “MacKensie, much as men don't like to share this fact, we rarely die from not getting off.”

“But…”

He looked up at her, a little exasperated, a little amused. Not a trace of anger, although she could feel the way his cock pulsed inside her.

“Don't you want to?” she whispered. He didn't want her? The sense of rejection grayed some of her elation.

Those hard hands closed on her arms again. “Little sub, I would be more than delighted to roll you over and take you, here and now. But not if you aren't ready.”

She frowned. He'd been inside her for…for a long time. Her johns had usually erupted within minutes, if not seconds. “Couldn't you…? Why didn't you…come before? Before I did?”

He chuckled. “That would defeat the purpose, now wouldn't it? And I didn't want anything to divert you. Little cat, don't worry a—”

“Then take me,” she said recklessly. So many others had. How could she deny this one person who actually cared about her? Who'd given her a real, actual orgasm. Her insides still quivered. “However you want.”

He cupped her cheek. “Sugar, I… You do realize that I would have to move to get off?”

Do I realize? If he only knew. The laugh that rose into her chest felt almost hysterical, and she smothered it. Grunting and sloppy, heaving and pushing, battering at her… Her hands tightened on his shirt. “I realize. Do it.”

He studied her again, and she tried to hide how her mind kept screaming, No no no. “All right, then,” he said. “I think perhaps we'd best get this behind us, or you'll keep worrying about it.” His hands rubbed her legs, and she could feel the way her muscles shook. “I would have preferred you on top”—when he grinned, the lack of lust in his face, the humor in his eyes, relieved her immensely—“but your legs aren't going to hold you up, are they?”

And just like that, he pushed her off him, his cock leaving her body, leaving her empty. “Uhhh.” The sound was almost a whine and had come from her. But she didn't have time to think before he'd slid her down onto the blanket and on her back. Such a vulnerable position, she realized as he loomed over her. Her hands fisted.

I can do this. No retreat, no surrender.

He hadn't planned to go this far yet, but she'd mustered her courage, and to throw her gesture away would be wrong. Alex frowned at how her little hands had fisted. Perhaps a diversion would give her something else to concentrate on. Her fear of men appeared separate from her enjoyment of being dominated. “MacKensie, give me your wrists.”

With a quizzical look, she complied. He pulled the Velcro cuffs from under the log, shook the sand off, and fastened them to her wrists.

“Alex?” She moved her arms. Her eyes widened when the chains attached to the cuffs erupted from the sand.

Smiling, he grasped her waist and slid her down the blanket until the chains pulled her arms over her head.

“I didn't say you could do this,” she said, her voice shaking.

“Little sub, I didn't ask.” When he attached cuffs to her ankles and took up the slack in the chains running to the stakes hidden in the sand, she watched him with big eyes. He ran a finger under each of the cuffs to ensure her circulation wasn't compromised, then sat back on his heels and enjoyed the sight of his restrained submissive.

Her pale, pale skin glowed in the moonlight. Her breasts sat high on her chest, nipples jutting upward, reassuring him that the restraints had given her more arousal than fear. The curly hair between her legs glistened in the light, and when he set his hand there, her quick inhalation was louder than the sound of the waves. He slid his fingers along her folds, circled her clit, and watched the flush rise in her cheeks. Her pussy had softened after her orgasm, but as he continued, the little nub under his fingers swelled with blood. He'd learned from their playtime at the club that she had a sensitive clit, and stroking the sides worked better than on top.

Playing with the very edge of the hood could make her whine. Hearing that sound again… Hell . Unable to resist, he went down on her. A woman with her legs chained open presented an overwhelming temptation to get closer, to breathe in the scent of her arousal, to taste her juices. And torture her until she whimpered.

He laid his tongue directly on that tender clit and heard the thin whine rise higher. He flicked the edges, did a few circles, and then gently pulled her labia apart and the hood up. The pearl of sensation —damned good term.

Her legs shook when the cool air hit the protected nub, and he could feel her muscles tense. He flicked the edges of the button ever so lightly until her breathing turned ragged.

He could get her off again. No, he had better not push her further. She'd wanted to gift him with herself, and if she panicked now, it would be a step back. Besides, he very much wanted to bury himself deep inside her. He sat up, enjoying her frustrated whimper. Her climax was just a flick or two away.