Saxon's Soul (Haven, Texas 5)

“Stay where you are,” he warned, slipping his hand beneath the waistband of the small skirt she wore and then cupping her mound. She jolted, making a low noise, but didn’t move.

“Good girl,” he told her.

Her breath left her on a shudder as he ran a finger through her folds. Soaking wet. Very good. He nipped at the skin where her neck met her shoulder and she cried out. He circled her clit slowly. Round and round then back and forth.

“Joel!” she cried out.

He bit down on her earlobe, stopping the slow caress of her hard nub. “How do you address me?”

“Sorry. Sorry, Sir. I’ll try not to forget again.” There was a desperate note to her voice. He knew how she loved to please.

“Sh,” he soothed. “It’s okay, pet. I have you. You’re doing so well. My brave girl.”

He could feel her lapping up the words like a flower deprived of sunlight. Her need to please reached something deep inside him. Maybe that was why his scenes had become so serious and almost clinical, because he’d always chosen submissives with experience. Who never pushed. Never faltered.

There was nothing wrong with that. But maybe he’d needed something else to reignite his Dominant side. Aspen. Innocent. Courageous. Sometimes challenging, sometimes so sweet it hurt.

He had to be careful or he was going to become putty in her hands.

“Sir, please, I need—”

“I know, little one.” Would she come here? Unlikely. But perhaps if all choice was taken from her. “Put your arms behind your back.”

She whimpered but obeyed him without an argument. He rewarded her with another flick on her clit. He rolled her nipple between the thumb and finger of his other hand. She sagged, might have fallen if he hadn’t grabbed her around the waist. He picked her up, cradling her against his chest as he walked over to a dark area next to the scene where a couple of armchairs sat. He settled in one then arranged her on his lap so her back was to his chest, her legs on either side of his.

“Put your hands behind my neck and keep them there.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“I like hearing you call me Sir.” She trembled in his arms. “Keep your eyes on the scene. Hannah’s going to come soon. I want you to come when she does, understand?”

“I d-don’t . . . I c-can’t.”

“You can. Because that’s what I desire. And if you don’t then I’m going to strap you to a spanking bench and drive you to the edge over and over without letting you fall off.”

“Oh, fuck.”

“Language,” he said warningly. “I’m thinking that swear jar isn’t working. What would be a better deterrent is five spanks with my hand for each swear word. Starting now.”

“What?”

He tugged at her nipple. Sharply. She gasped. “Or we can start from when I first met you. That’s going to be one hell of a spanking, though.”

“From now’s fine,” she said quickly.

“I’m not sure. You don’t really sound grateful enough.”

“Oh, thank you, great one, for your leniency with your poor little sub. She much appreciates how generous and kind you are.”

He snorted. “Not sure anyone has ever called me kind.”

She lowered her arms and looked over her shoulder at him and smiled. “Then they didn’t know you well.”

He should reprimand her for moving, but right at that moment he just wanted to bask in the look in her eyes. She was staring at him like he was a hero.

But that was far from the truth. He scowled. He needed to dissuade her of that belief. He just needed to figure out a way to be strict with her.

“Did I give you permission to move, sub?”