Priceless (Ruthless Doms 1)

“Open your legs wider,” he commands. I immediately obey, and he takes full advantage. Fingers in my center, circling my hardened clit, stroking me closer and closer to release. He glides easily in and out through my arousal, and I can’t deny how aroused his punishment made me. I’m getting closer and closer to orgasm, my body tensing over his lap.

“I’ll make you crave this,” he whispers in my ear. “Lying over my lap for a spanking before I finger you to orgasm. Taking both pain and pleasure from my hand. A master’s job is to command every aspect of her life. Your orgasms belong to me.”

I nod, my chest so tight I can’t speak or move. The center of my focus is between my legs, my need to climax overshadowing everything else he says. I grind against his hand with wanton abandon, his words only making my need intensify.

“You will ask for permission before you come,” he says. “Do you understand me, slave?”

Slave. I shiver with delight.

Nicolai is my master and I belong to him.

“Yes, sir,” I manage to say. “May I, please?”

“This time, yes,” he grants, stroking me harder, faster, until my body tenses and my core begins to spasm. I groan, writhing, ecstasy flooding me. I want to scream his name out loud but I learned that lesson. I bite my lip to keep from crying out, while he wrenches my orgasm from my body.

Finally, the spasms subside and he slows the strokes.

“You come so beautifully,” he whispers. “Your pleasure is a gift you give me. Such a gift.”

My head is tilted to the side. He kisses my temple and whispers, “I want to be in you now, sweet girl.”

I nod my head. “Please, sir.”

It’s time.

He gathers me to his chest and rises with me in his arms, carrying me. I hide my face against him, suddenly vividly aware that we have an audience and he just brought me to climax. That he’s going to take my virginity next.

Noises fade, and all I can focus on is the beating of his heart. Somehow, some way, he’s found me, and no matter what happens, we will find a way not to be separated again. He will seal our union.

I long for this. Yearn to be filled with him. Connected irrevocably.

We walk past the crowd, down the hall, and I don’t look at anyone or anything. I close my eyes so my whole world is Nicolai. My face pressed up against his shirt, I breathe him in, so strong and clean and masculine. I wrap my arms around his neck and the beating of his heart drowns out the noises around us.

Soon, we’re back to the room. He slides me to the floor, standing in front of him before he spins me away from it and locks it.

“Wish I had a fucking deadbolt and iron bars to keep you safe,” he says.

“You don’t need those things,” I whisper. “You’re enough.”

Gathering me to his chest, he kisses my forehead. “I’m not,” he says, shaking his head. “If I were, you never would have been taken.”

I know why he feels this way, why it kills him, but it isn’t his fault.

“No man could have taken on that ambush solo and survived,” I tell him. “It isn’t your fault. It’s the fault of whoever did this to me.”

“I should have found a safe place for you,” he says. It kills me that this eats at him so. “I should have hid you where no one would have ever found you.”

“But you found me,” I tell him. “You found me, and now I’m yours.”

His eyes meet mine, bluer than the deepest part of the ocean. “Not yet you’re not,” he contradicts, his words imbued with meaning. “But you will be. Soon.”

He captures my mouth, kissing me so fiercely I bow beneath him. Our lips still joined, he takes me to the bed and lies me down on my back. Kneeling on one knee, he looks down at me hungrily and traces the tip of his finger down the side of my face.

I look up at him, my hand on his, granting him everything he’s asked and everything he hasn’t. I want this. I want this so badly I ache with it.

We don’t speak. Anything we say could be used against us, and words aren’t needed now anyway. Together, we remove the thin sheath. He gathers it in his hand and whips it against the wall as if he hates it, or hates what it symbolizes. Separation from him? Subjugation to another?

Kneeling above me, he holds my gaze as he deliberately begins to strip out of his clothes. First, the tie, followed by his shirt. I swallow when he grasps his belt buckle and unfastens it. His eyes twinkle at me.

“You couldn’t hide the way the threat of a belting turned you on,” he says.