More than a Dare (Masters Club 4)

Slow down, he cautioned himself.

While she’d progressed faster than he could have dreamed in such a short time, she was still incredibly new to all this. It was quite possible they were already near her limits. The thought was unsettling. It was fun and sexy to play as they had been, testing her envelope. But for this relationship to last, she had to be willing to give him more—to give her all.

Jesus. Where the hell had that come from? Hadn’t he always warned his play partners that he didn’t do long-term relationships? That was why he’d joined the Masters Club. He had built-in play partners who harbored no illusions as to his intentions. Sure, he’d always figured he’d eventually settle down. But when he did, it would be in a Master/slave relationship. However far he might take Dahlia in her BDSM dabbling, he strongly doubted she had what it took to submit to that degree.

Stay in the moment, he ordered himself.

Whatever was happening between them, it was pretty wonderful. He had no intention of stopping now. He would take her as far as she could go, and enjoy every moment.

Last night had gone better than he’d hoped, and he was sure she could handle more. Just thinking about the possibilities made his cock instantly hard. He stroked it as he regarded the sleeping woman.

If he owned her, she would be trained to wake him each morning by taking his cock into her mouth. He would decide if he wanted to come down her throat, or spurt over her face and breasts. Afterward, she would thank him sweetly for the gift of his seed. Then she would drape herself over his legs to receive her morning mark.

He would run his hands lightly over her ass and perhaps rub her cunt to make it nice and wet before taking the cane they would keep beside the bed. Then he would deliver one swift blow—hard enough to leave a welt. For the rest of the day, she would feel its sting, a constant reminder that she was his property, to do with as he pleased.

The sadistic fantasy made his balls tighten with lust. Throwing back the sheets, he lifted himself up and over her. He settled his weight on his elbows as he loomed over her, his cock nudging between her thighs.

Her eyes flew open in startled, unfocused confusion. “What?” she gasped breathlessly.

“Merry Christmas,” he said, smiling down at her. He reached down between them, seeking her sweet cunt. He cupped her mons as his fingers found her entrance. She was already wet, as she should be.

“For your present, I’m going to fuck you, sub girl,” he informed her.

“Oh,” she said softly, permission tacit in both her tone and her body language. She shifted beneath him, letting her legs fall open as she arched up to meet him.

He guided himself carefully into her yielding body, giving her a chance to accommodate his girth. Once he had fully penetrated, she relaxed beneath him, her arms coming up to encircle his neck.

He moved slowly inside her, a deep, almost painful tenderness moving through him as they made love. Dahlia wasn’t just some pleasure sub. They had been friends first, and that friendship had only deepened as they’d become intimate. She was a strong, smart, determined woman with a delicious submissive streak she’d never fully explored. He was honored that she’d entrusted him on that journey.

Her cunt was like a warm, velvety sheath, her breasts soft beneath him, the nipples poking sweetly against his chest. He buried his face in her neck, breathing in her scent as he moved inside her.

He wanted to make it last, but all his pent-up lust from the night before made that difficult. His body took over, his hips swiveling as he thrust in and out of her tight heat. He wrapped his arms around her, pulling her against him as his balls tightened in anticipation of climax. His body heated to a fever pitch, sweat slicking his skin.

He came in a series of convulsive thrusts. With a groan, he collapsed against her, his heart hammering. He lay inert for several long moments, unable to move, adrift in post-orgasmic bliss.

After a while, Dahlia shifted beneath him, pushing against his shoulders with both hands. “You’re crushing me,” she said with a breathless laugh.

He rolled away from her to his back. “Sorry.”

“No apology needed,” Dahlia replied with an answering grin. “It’s just I really have to pee.” She slid from the bed, clutching her crotch like a little kid as she hurried to the bathroom.

Hayden’s mind instantly drifted to a different scenario—one in which she was his full-on, 24/7 slave girl. That slave girl would never simply announce she had to pee. She would politely ask permission, and wait for it to be granted.