From the moment I stepped on the path that I hoped would take me to a better life, things changed forever—for the worst. I was dragged into the belly of the underworld, where a gang lord had chosen me to do his bidding. Caught up in a trial that had nothing to do with me, I was forced to sign a contract, binding me to do whatever the gang boss ordered—or lose my life. With no choice but to obey, and me falling in love with the defending lawyer, my world was turned upside down.
Master Michael was that lawyer, a man who wanted to teach me the BDSM lifestyle and keep me safe, offering me an entirely different contract. But I couldn’t allow him to. If I did, he would also face danger. Being beaten, stabbed, and hunted down became the norm for me, and I ended up having to make a choice—his life for mine or go into witness protection.
I should have been safe. I should have been able to stop looking over my shoulder. But I wasn’t. I couldn’t. The gang were always there, dogging my every step. And so was Master Michael.
I grew wet between my legs, spasms there giving me a jolt. I hadn’t done anything like this for such a long time that I was out of practise, felt out of my depth and unsure what to do next. My cunt burned, seemed to inflate with my longing, and if I’d been alone I would have wrenched my jeans open and slid my fingers inside my knickers. Rubbed, smoothing my wetness over my clit and fretting it until the pleasure burst through me and I shook, jerked, and bucked with it. I wanted to tell him to do exactly that, to discover how he would do it, whether his touch was firmer than mine. I wanted so much all at once that it overwhelmed me.
He eased his head back a little, breaths hot on my wet skin, and said, ‘Tell me now. Tell me what you want, Rebecca.’
‘I don’t know. Don’t know if I can,’ I said, keeping my eyes closed.
He swirled his tongue around the edge of the scar, then swept it across my stomach to circle my navel. I pulled in a breath, shocked, and tightened my hold on his hair. I imagined him twisting me around, making me face the wall tiles, and wrenching my jeans down my legs. Gripping my hips and drawing me backwards while he stood behind me, naked, pressing his erection into the cleft of my backside. I wanted him to scoot his hands under my T-shirt and lift my bra cups, replacing them with his hands. To fondle my nipples until they hardened, so that I forgot everything except what he was doing. Was that what I wanted him to do? Could I tell him that?
I began talking, telling him what I could see in my head, faltering at first then growing bolder as he kissed and licked my stomach.
‘It isn’t…exactly BDSM, is it?’ I said, daring to open my eyes and watch him. ‘It’s just normal.’
He pulled back for long enough to say, ‘Keep imagining. Keep talking. Say what you can see.’
‘I want…I want you to take me roughly, to fuck all the bad things out of me.’ Had I just said that? ‘I want you to kiss me hard, shove into me, make me feel alive again, as though I’m the only thing that matters. Make me forget…make me know, just for a little while, that the only thing I have to wonder about is…what you’ll do next.’
Michael stood, my hand dropping away from his hair, and crushed me to him. He kissed me — hard — and I melted against him, pushed into him, wanting to feel his erection, to writhe over it and get myself off. I put my hands around his neck, locking my fingers, going up on tiptoes and kissing him back as hungrily as he was kissing me. A strangled sound got stuck in my throat, and this time I didn’t care. He broke the kiss, dipping his head to lick a path up my neck, to kiss my earlobe.
‘Tell me more,’ he said, his hot breath sending my lust level skyrocketing.
I closed my eyes while he nuzzled and kissed, me rubbing myself over him, the sensations between my legs growing with my excitement. My jeans gave extra abrasion, and I shuddered out several pants while trying to control myself enough to speak.
‘I want you to massage me roughly, all over, and force me to my knees to suck you…your cock.’ My face was hot, getting hotter with the telling. ‘I want you to grip my hair in your fist while I do it, and push in and out of my mouth telling me how you need me to suck harder. I want you to tell me how it should be, where I should kneel or stand, where I should be. And I want…I want you to use your free hand to grip my chin so my head doesn’t move.’
I could see it all in my mind’s eye, every bit of it, both of us naked. I imagined the strain in my thigh muscles from kneeling, the strain in my jaw from having my mouth stuffed full of him. I heard him grunting as he pumped in and out, using my mouth, using me, and telling me that he was going to come.
I lowered my head to nestle it on his chest, hiding my shame as I repeated what I’d seen in my head. The words were muffled against his top, but he heard them, groaning his response and holding me tighter.
‘That’s it,’ he said, kissing my jawline, licking my lips. ‘That’s it.’
I slid my hand under his top, reaching up, seeking his chest. It was smooth, not a hair to be felt, and I ghosted a fingertip over a hardened nipple. His desire for me had done that, perked that nipple, and I finally accepted that he wanted me. I’d dreamed of being his for so long, had convinced myself it would never be, that to see proof of what I’d denied to be true was almost too much. I squeezed my eyes closed tightly, then tilted my head, needing him to kiss me.
He did, slow and tender, the roaring fire of before dousing into something just as beautiful, just as heady. It was erotic, the gentle dance of his tongue, as though he was taking his time to taste me, to explore the inside of my mouth, getting to know it. I responded in kind and knew I could stand here kissing him forever. My head swam with the joy of it, of him wanting the whole of me, scar and all.
As our kiss came to an end, I reluctantly drew back, looking up at him as he studied me.
‘That wasn’t so difficult, was it?’ he said, cradling my cheek and running his thumb tip under one of my eyes.
‘It wasn’t difficult, but it wasn’t easy either,’ I said, the pounding ache between my legs making it difficult to focus.
‘Do you want more?’ he asked. ‘More of this?’