Mastering Her Fear (Miami Masters 3)

“Unless you want another trip over my lap, close your eyes and keep them shut.” Jackson punctuated his stern rebuke with a quick smack on the back of her right thigh. Slamming her eyes closed, Julie prayed she could handle whatever he had planned. From the way the burn on her leg caused her pussy to clench in damp need, she was headed toward a precipice she’d never reached before, which both exhilarated and scared her. “That’s better. Normally I don’t explain myself, but your circumstances aren’t normal. The sun not only warms you, but offers light behind your lids so you’re not in total darkness.” He tickled her abdomen as he drew the top down, along with her shorts and panties. “You have a nice body, Julie, but you need to put on weight. We’ll work on that while you’re here as well. Tell me what you’re feeling.”

While you’re here. Julie had been so focused on getting here, then staying, she hadn’t thought of leaving. She set aside the pang his comment wrought and concentrated on the pleasure of having his hands on her. Kicking aside her clothes, she shivered as his warm breath caressed her abdomen and he trailed his calloused fingers up the insides of her legs. “That tickles,” she told him.

“That’s it? Just that it tickles? Your black curls are right in front of my face and I can see the damp proof of your arousal glistening on them. Are you embarrassed to tell me my touch excites you?”

“I… maybe… a little.” Damn it, why couldn’t he just touch her and be quiet?

His low chuckle vibrated against her belly button right before he nipped the softer flesh of her waist. “I can tell by the look on your face and the tight clench of your hands you don’t want to verbalize what you’re feeling.” He reached the apex between her pussy lips and the crease of her thighs and used his thumbs to tease the plump folds without delving inside.

Julie shifted her feet, holding her breath as she waited for Jackson to step up this game. So far, he’d avoided touching her where she needed it most. Her nipples ached for another stroke, and her sheath had never felt so empty, so needy. Then his hands left her body, and she heard the rustle of clothing before he pulled her closer as he stood, the brush of her nipples over his bare chest sending frissons of heat down to her core. Unbidden, her eyes blinked open and her vision filled with his thick pectorals, her fingers itching to sift through the light sprinkle of curly brown hair that tapered to a thin line leading down. His tight jeans couldn’t disguise the bulge of his cock, and her mouth went dry.

When Jackson reached above her and lowered a foot-long bar hooked to a chain and she saw the cuffs attached on each end, Julie realized she should’ve known he was only getting started.

“Your body is telling me you’re ready for the next step, even if you’re not. Just a caution, Julie. I won’t always be as lenient when you don’t do as I instruct.” His eyes darkened with his low-pitched warning.

She could tell how serious he was by his tight jaw, but as he raised her right arm and wrapped the cuff around her wrist, she didn’t have time to worry about what he might do in the future. Now was a much more pressing matter. His experience came through in the quick, adept way he secured both wrists above her head then cupped her face to keep her from panicking when she jerked against the restraints.

“Give me a color.” His eyes bored into hers, refusing to let her look away.

“What? Oh.” Julie thought a moment and realized as soon as his hands were back on her, her panic subsided, and she calmed, still a little uneasy, but not unduly. “Green.” She nodded to reassure him. “Yes, green, I’m fine.”

“I believe you, but make no mistake. If you ever give me a false answer because you think it’s what I want to hear, you’ll end up suffering for it, in more ways than one.” Releasing her face, he bent to retrieve something out of a black bag sitting on the end of the bench she just now noticed. “Trust me?” he asked, holding up a black silk blindfold.

Julie’s heart tripped, threatening to lodge in her throat. The blindfold would take away the control she possessed when closing her eyes. Since she did trust him, she nodded, then held her breath as he covered her eyes.

When he plunged her into darkness, her breathing turned labored as fear of losing her composure in front of him sent instant denial rising to the surface. Jackson shifted, the press of his hand against her nape bringing her close enough his rough denim brushed against her legs, his belt buckle pressed against her abdomen, and his chest hairs teased her nipples.

“Breathe.” The deep command of his rumbling voice along with the press of his hand on her neck kept her grounded in the here and now. “That’s my girl,” he praised her when her breathing leveled out. A slow rise of excitement skittered down her spine, his soft approval replacing the worry and panic, and worked to heighten her pleasure.

“I want you to think of a happy place, someplace real or imagined you can go where you feel safe.”

The perfect spot came to mind without thinking. The small fort he’d built in the woods behind his house, where they used to sneak off to. “Don’t tell me,” he instructed when he must’ve caught the little smile on her lips. “Give me a color.”

Frustrated, ready now for him to get on with this, Julie tossed out, “Green. What’re you going to do?” He released her nape and stepped back, allowing the sun to take the place of his body heat. Even though the blindfold rendered her in the dark more than just closing her eyes, the warmth streaming in through the window offered the illusion of light, reminding her how bright it would be without the scrap of cloth covering her eyes.

“Change your need for pain to a desire for the pleasure it can give you.” Jackson skimmed his palms down her chest then rotated them over her jutting nipples. Julie’s face flushed, and she arched into his hands, both positive signs. Gauging her reaction with close scrutiny, he grasped her nipples between thumbs and forefingers and rolled, slowly tightening his fingers on the hardened tips. Small, white teeth bit into her plump, lower lip right before a low moan broke through from his tight pinch. “Very good, Julie.” Releasing the now reddened nubs, he kneaded his way down her waist. “Your ribs show. That’s not acceptable. If you’re not modeling anymore, then you have no reason to maintain a strict diet.”

“If I keep eating the rich food your clients send over, I’ll be overweight in no time.”

He doubted she would ever be overweight, but it’d be better than denying what her body needed. “No, you won’t, not if you’re with me. I have ways you can work off the calories. Let’s see how many orgasms can burn off.”

CHAPTER 5

J ackson couldn’t decipher what Julie’s grimace meant or why the mention of orgasms would make her muscles tighten, but he could pull the cause from her later. Today was for demonstrating. Sliding his hands around to her buttocks, he kneaded the soft flesh, keeping a close eye on her response. “I enjoyed spanking you the other day. You did, too, which means you’ll like this.” He released her ass to pick up a multi-strand flogger and trailed the narrow leather strips over her breasts.

“Is that what I think it is?” she questioned with a catch in her voice.

“I don’t read minds, Julie.”

“And I might be green about your sexual preferences, but I know what a flogger is,” she returned, her voice going breathless as he tickled her waist then glided the leather falls up the inside of one leg. “But I’ve never felt one.”

“This one has twelve strands, long and thin to cover a larger area. Spread your feet wider and leave them there.” She complied without hesitation, another positive sign. Jackson moved to stand at her side, teased the globes of her ass, then pulled back to deliver a light snap over both cheeks, just hard enough to leave faint pink stripes behind. “You good?”

“Yes, yes, I’m fine.” The rows of tiny stings that stroke elicited drew her nipples into tighter beads and added to the building dampness in her pussy. Julie bit her lip again, waiting in anticipation for the next strike. It came fast, this one a little sharper, landing below the first, the extra punch seeping

deep inside her and pulling a response she never dreamed possible. “Jackson.”

His low, knowing chuckle near her ear vibrated deep inside her. “Feel, baby, just feel.” Jackson removed his body warmth off her backside and replaced it with the fiery heat of the next lash.

Pain blossomed across her butt and didn’t stop there. Slow, measured lashes struck from just beneath her lower back down to her thighs, alternating between soft and tantalizing, and hard and painful. Her skin turned hot, her flesh pulsed, and her senses skyrocketed. She whimpered with the light kiss of leather on her stomach, the switch as startling as her reaction. A harder blow struck across her breasts, the pointed end of one strand catching a nipple and sending a streak of fire blazing a trail down to her sheath. Julie shifted her feet apart even wider and with a jerk of her hips, sent a silent plea for a touch where she craved it most. She, who could count the number of sexual encounters where she’d found enjoyment on one hand, was ready to explode after just a few moments of pain induced stimulation.

A few more, well-aimed strikes and then the thud of the flogger dropping to the concrete floor left her shivering with the tingling, burning, throbbing aftereffects. Julie thought that sound meant an end to Jackson’s torment and he was ready to end her long wait, but not so. The slow, thorough tour he took with his hands tracing over each place he’d struck heightened the soreness of the lashes as well as her arousal. “Jackson,” she pleaded again when he traced the throbbing line running straight across her nipples then drew one tortured tip into his suckling mouth. A cry was wrenched from her throat as he pulled on the sensitive bud with a strong suction that ended on a painful bite. The rasp of his tongue over the throbbing tip did little to appease the sting or her lust.

Sinking onto the bench right in front of her thrusting pelvis, Jackson clasped one hand over a warmed buttock, holding Julie in place with a handful of malleable flesh while he slid two fingers inside her dripping pussy. Slick, hot walls of muscle clamped around his digits and he drew a shuddering breath of his own. He’d never had a problem maintaining control before, and now that it was imperative he do so, it was not a good time to test his limits.

“Are you in your happy place, Julie?” A deep plunge up to her womb accompanied his inquiry.

“The secret one, yes. I’m still waiting for you to take me to my other happy place.” Her frustration came through loud and clear in her peevish tone, and he liked that he succeeded in getting to her.

He released his hold on her butt long enough to swat her ass then held on again. “Get your attitude under control.” Playing with her vagina, he watched her face for a sign he’d located that special spot. A quick gasp and strain against his hold told him when he found it. “You’re very responsive. I like that. Come for me, Julie. As many times as you want.”

Julie had always been lucky to attain that goal once, several times would be impossible, but she’d take what she could get. His big fingers stretched her pussy and filled her so deep, his plunges nudged up against her womb. He brought her to her toes with a forceful thrust, and with the leftover tingling and throbbing from the flogger egging her on, it took just one graze over her clit to send her soaring. An explosion of color lit up the darkness behind the blindfold the same way a decorated Christmas tree brightened a room, and the pleasure sweeping her from head to toe threatened her sanity as much as her memories did. She jerked against the restraints, the resistance adding to the consuming sensations, another new and surprising reaction she tried to process as she strained against his hold on her buttock and the restraining wrist cuffs.

Jackson stood but kept his fingers embedded inside her as he drove her straight up into a second orgasm before the first had a chance to ebb, the force of his pummeling hand driving her up on her toes again. Julie greeted his lips with eager enthusiasm, loving the taste of him, the way he controlled even her mouth with the authoritative pressure of his. He didn’t let up on finger-fucking her, his aims a direct hit every time he delved deep, his downward shifts never failing to glide over her throbbing clit, to linger with milking squeezes before submerging again.

She had no choice but to wrench her mouth from his with the shocking onslaught of a third climax, the necessity for air paramount. Caving to the gripping pleasure, she disconnected from everything except the overwhelming riot of sensations bombarding her body. As soon as he released her buttock, she writhed with the rippling pulsations, jerking against the pleasure, her mind floating on a cloud of pure feeling.

Jackson released her wrists, and she fell against him, her legs too wobbly to hold her up without help. Small shudders racked her body as she relished the feel of his warm shoulder under her cheek, the tickle of his chest hair against her still sensitive nipples and the thick, hard bulge of his biceps under her hands. The blindfold came off next, but she squeezed her eyes shut to contain the threatening tears she didn’t understand. As the haze of the most intense, euphoric sexual experience of her life began to clear, her emotions dove into an uncontrollable tailspin with no explanation. Unable to understand or hold back, she crumpled against him as the dam burst.

He’d been expecting this, and Jackson swung Julie up in his arms and carried her out behind the barn. Settling on a bench against the back wall, he clamped one arm over her hips and kept the other around her shoulders and held tight as her tortured sobs broke his heart. He knew the release he’d given her would only go so far in easing her stressful fears, but the rest wouldn’t come until she opened up to him.

“Open your eyes, baby. Look at where you are now, not where you’ve been. See who you’re with, not who hurt you. You’re safe with me, you know that, or you wouldn’t be here.”

At least she was aware enough to obey his command and as he watched her eyes sweep across the back of his property, he felt the remaining tension in her ease. “Whenever you find yourself fearing the dark, or what happened to bring about that fear, I want you to go to your happy place and remember this view and the pleasure that came before you saw it.” Jackson sank his teeth into the soft flesh of her neck, hard enough to mark her. When she saw it, he wanted her to remember who put it there, whom to turn to when she needed someone to chase away the demons who haunted her.

“I can try.” Of course, she didn’t tell him her happy place was with him.

Blinking against the glare of the lowered sun, Julie drank in the green acres of fruit trees spread out before them; the papaya trees blooming with cream-white flowers, the towering ninety foot tamarinds with their short trunks, drooping branches and umbrella-shaped crowns, and the shorter avocado evergreens with their elliptical-shaped leaves that bore green flowers and pear-shaped fruit. Just beyond the mini-orchard, weeping willows marked the edge of the bog. The scenic view settled her indescribable emotions enough for her to notice the hard press of Jackson’s rigid, jean-covered cock against her bare butt, the constant caress of his hand over her body.

With the flick of a switch, her sated body rekindled into a bright flame of arousal, the ache for his full possession overriding the lingering soreness and still throbbing stripes decorating her front and back. She wanted him with a desperation borne of uncertainty, loneliness and loss, all of which she knew showed on her face as she looked up at him.

“Jackson, please.”

“Are you ready to talk to me, tell me what happened?”

Julie wanted to, but held back. Would he blame her, just like Maci’s boyfriend and Candace’s parents? Just as she did? Three psychologists had repeatedly emphasized there would have been no way for her to stop the enraged young man, that his deep-rooted fury lent him the conviction and strength to kill her two friends without qualm and with well-aimed knife thrusts. His frenzied attack had lasted all of four minutes, if that, and since the first concerned hotel guests hadn’t rushed to their aid for another three to four minutes, he would’ve taken Julie down with them. But, apparently, she was still a coward because she couldn’t bring herself to take the risk of seeing Jackson turn away from

her again so soon after reuniting with him.

“Not yet. I will, but please understand, I’m not ready.”

The immediate disappointment clouding his eyes hurt her as much as the harshest stroke of the flogger had. “Then you’re not ready for more, or me. If you can manage on your own now, go get dressed while I see to some chores.”

AT LEAST HE didn’t ask me to leave. Julie repeated that encouraging line over and over during the next two days as the week wound down to the big annual fundraiser. Now, if she could just get him to welcome her into his bed, she’d be happier than she’d been in a long time. Despite the disappointment she knew he continued to harbor over her silence, he’d been the teasing, caring Jackson she remembered from years ago. The occasional edgy, hard look she’d catch him giving her when he didn’t know it only added to his appeal. Like the scene in the barn he’d introduced her to, that look awoke something inside her, a craving she never knew she bore. There was no question in her mind the urges she’d been suffering with were just for him, that he was the only one who could bring her to such heights or whom she would sexually submit to. Just picturing herself at someone else’s mercy brought on a cold chill of distaste, unlike the heated rush of arousal rushing through her veins when she thought of Jackson binding her, touching her, fucking her.

Julie rolled over with an irritated huff and gazed out the window of the guest bedroom at the clear, pre-dawn morning. She longed to be in with Jackson, her body glued to his, but every time she thought of telling him about her friends’ deaths, nausea churned in her stomach and her hands grew clammy. He hadn’t liked the changes in her before that fateful night; what would he think or say if she told him how she’d failed to shore up enough nerve to come to the aid of Maci and Candace? To put her even more on edge, her attorney, Bart Coleman, sent her another message last night conveying yet another plea from the young man who’d done so much harm and caused her such grief. Why Evan Daniels wanted to talk to her, she couldn’t fathom any more than she could imagine sitting across from him without getting physically ill, and she refused to answer Bart’s text.