Hottie (6 page)

He hadn’t let her leave with
Mary Lou
. He set terms to having sex. He was Master Dane.

“I guess that’s why you’re such a control freak?”

“I’m not a control freak,” he replied, taking hold of her hips as he stood and bent to scoop her up in his arms. “I protect what I care about, no matter the objection. And when it comes to sex, I’m an obliging Dom when my partner desires me to be.”

After grabbing a new tube of aloe from the counter, he carried her into his bedroom and gently laid her on the bed, then carefully rolled her on her stomach. He sat beside her and added more gel to her ass and upper thighs. Growing cold, she tensed to stop from shivering.

Moments passed with a heavy silence sitting on their shoulders, and she couldn’t help but wish he’d hurry.

“Are you uncomfortable?”

“I’m okay,” she offered.

He placed the gel on the nightstand, then fiddled with the radio and tuned in a soft and soothing instrumental. He folded the towel over her treated behind, then covered her with a blanket.

“While I appreciate your effort to be polite, I’d prefer you to be honest with me,” he said, Master Dane back in charge. “I know manners dictate that guest complaints should be kept to a minimum, but you are more than just a guest, and it wouldn’t have hurt my feeling if you had admitted to being cold.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, rolling over on her side to look at him. “Sir,” she added. “I’ll try.”

He must have recognized the genuineness in her tone, because he simply nodded and proceeded to the door.

She closed her tired eyelids, sure that fatigue was making her nuts. After all, she’d just apologized for being polite. However, she really was being sincere in her apology—perhaps because he’d noticed that she was cold at all. No one ever noticed her discomfort, and if someone did, rarely did that person care enough to make sure it didn’t happen again.

“But he cares,” she mumbled to the pillow.

Phoebe snuggled deep into the softness of bed and drifted off to sleep, breathing the wonderful scents he’d left behind. His comforter smelled like sunshine, fresh soap, a bit of cologne, and him.

Dane took extra care in shutting the door behind him and went to the kitchen to straighten up, pleased Phoebe was already beginning to adjust, and so very proud of her. He had glimpsed a side of Phoebe she hadn’t had when she arrived—a side he hadn’t believed he’d see so soon.

True, he’d only known her for a few hours, but she had revealed many facets of her being in that short time. He’d met Phoebe the Strong and Phoebe the Vulnerable. He’d met Phoebe the Passionate, and even Phoebe the Brat. She was a complex woman. One moment she would charge at him in a blaze of fury, and the next, writhe beneath him with intoxicating pleasure. She could be unreasonably stubborn in one breath, yet be refreshingly candid in the next. She was kind, and she was honest, but she remained guarded.

Never—
not once—
had she been completely unguarded with him.

Dane pulled the cleaner, sponge, and bucket from beneath the kitchen sink.

He’d gently reprimanded her for not expressing her needs, and he’d been surprised with an apology. He didn’t need to hear one. He just wanted her to know her needs were more important to him than propriety. But then she turned over and spoke automatically, without thought to weigh her words—added his title without prompting and offered a commitment without prompting—her tone pure, her expression content. Even with her fatigue, her eyes held no wariness or caution. She was not scared, worried, looking to pacify or afraid to offend.

Most surprising was the way she peeled away his layers and had him sharing. He didn’t share his past and his pain with anyone. Why Phoebe? What was it about her that opened him up for her to access?

Dane finished wiping everything down, then dumped the bucket of water.

She just
was
. This just was. No need to question it. He wanted her with him. He had her. He was going to make things good and enjoy the moment. Phoebe Morris was perfect and exactly what he needed.

He pulled two beers from the fridge and sat at the table. Downing the cold brew, he gave the first bottle a spin and raised his arm in victory. Was he celebrating too early?

“This”
might only be temporary.

They’d fallen into a relationship and
said
relationship was evolving very quickly. Her reaching the point to trust him enough to let her guard down was the next logical step. She should be more apt to follow his instructions without hesitation. And if there was any sort of hesitation, she should trust him enough to express her fears without a smidgen of shame or embarrassment.

Or she could wake up later with her defenses back up and intact.

Dane put the cleaning supplies away and checked the time. Evening already. He needed to get to his computer and order those parts.

Chapter Six

Hot Bed of Naughtiness

Phoebe awoke with a start, disoriented by the dim, unfamiliar surroundings. She sat up, panicked, ready to fight or flee for her life. Placing her palm over her racing heart, she willed her lungs to breathe normally when she remembered where she was and smiled. It was not a dream. She really was shacked up for the night with her hottie mechanic.

But more importantly, she was safe and sound.

She’d learned early on during her trip a woman traveling alone, without a lot money for a nightly motel, was a target for the unscrupulous fuckers of the world. Thankfully, she had awoken before the assholes could jimmy the car door open, but the lesson stuck with her. It was not something she would chance again. She might not be so lucky next time.

Ah, blessed sleep…just another luxury she could not afford.

But tonight was different.

Phoebe tried to relax again, to force herself to rest while she had the opportunity, but waking up so abruptly was like a starting pistol to her brain, which insisted on racing. Mostly with thoughts of Hottie and all she’d shared with him earlier.

Staring at the dark ceiling, Phoebe replayed every delicious moment, allowing her hand to creep between her legs and press the ache building there. How naughty would it be to masturbate in his bed? Or rather, how stupid would it be? Or how exciting?

Why masturbate at all when the flesh and blood man waited just beyond the door?

“Because I could have this orgasm without the threat of a spanking looming over me,” she grumbled. “Because it’d be hot to do it in his bed. Even hotter if he spanked me again…in his bed.”

Funny, though, how the spanking made him that much more. Her ass had been on fire, but the rest of her nerve endings had become super sensitive. Everything had felt more intense, including her arousal. If she hadn’t been so exhausted, she might have begged him to fuck her all over again. Instead, she had turned all mushy and cried like a little bitch.

That last part was too humiliating to dwell on.

But remembering the stinging heat on her ass…hmm…

Moisture seeped through her fingers, and before she realized what she was doing, her middle finger was sliding through her slick folds. She considered stopping, but instead her thumb circled the bundle of nerves swelling beneath her touch. She closed her eyes and moaned, savoring the sensation. Damn, that felt good.

Oh, how long had it been since she’d taken care of herself?

Too long, she figured. Eric had frowned on the practice, so she’d mostly stopped masturbating after the first time he’d caught her. Some people thought of masturbation as something wicked and shameful, and according to her ex, “a waste of time and effort when one could simply copulate”, but Phoebe knew it was a healthy and natural thing to do. Especially when there were some people, like her ex, who couldn’t be bothered to make sure their partners also enjoyed the “copulation”.

Screw the bleep of a mistake. She plunged a finger into her pussy. Someone so much better was on the other side of the door and that’s whom she wanted to think about. Hottie was more than eye candy. His body was a rollercoaster of thrills, full of climbs, twists, and awesome drops.

She strummed her clit, picturing her thumb as his tongue—his wonderful, enticing, soothing, and amazing tongue. The short time spent with Hottie had been well worth the years of unsatisfying sex she’d overlooked for the sake of “love”. Hell, it was so good, it was even worth the shock of her ex’s betrayal, the pain of the breakup, and the distress of her getting to this place just so she could meet him.

Mmm. She rubbed herself with her fingertips, pumping into her channel at the same time. She’d had mind-blowing sex for what felt like the first-time in her life, and she was now free to do this, something she’d rarely had the opportunity to enjoy in the past years, unless she was hiding in the bathroom. But, things were very different, much better, with her life on the road.

Phoebe wanted heated gazes, mind-blowing touches, spankings for coming too soon, and Japanese tubs, not nanny cams. Her tummy did a somersault as she pictured him leaning against the wall and eyeing her like a panther eyed its prey. She was happy to be Master Dane’s prey.

She slipped a second finger into her vagina, taking her time to explore the texture of her wetness and the quivering muscles responding to the friction. A third finger produced a tighter fit, and with her thumb still at the helm, she nearly ended her quest for completion with a single stroke, but she used the moment to practice restraint. She didn’t want to arrive at her destination too fast—Hottie had shown her the journey was a huge part of the fun.

Lost in thoughts of her mechanic, her body burned with need and responded, flooding her channel with warmth that dripped down to her palm. So close. She was so damn close. Her nipples tightened, thighs tingled, and she arched her back and spread her legs wide for deeper penetration. “Oh, yes. Please, yes…” In her mind, Hottie was telling her to—

“Remove your hand,” he growled. “Right now.”

Phoebe immediately obeyed with a surprised squeak, scrambling back to the headboard. The subject of her fantasy stood in the doorway, and he looked none too pleased. Freshly showered and comfortably dressed, legs braced apart and arms folded across his massive chest, he radiated all things sexy and dominant, and the displeasure sparking in his eyes told her she was in trouble again.

But she wasn’t going to back down. She narrowed her gaze and glared right back. “I’m sick and tired of men telling me it’s wrong to touch myself,” she fumed.

“I’m not telling you it’s wrong to touch yourself, Phoebe,” he said with a surprising amount of restraint. “I think a woman bringing herself to pleasure is a beautiful thing to behold.”

She shifted uncomfortably, not sure where this conversation was going. “Really?”

“Yes,
really
.” He approached. “That being said, we had an agreement. While naked, you belong to me, and coming without my permission is how a spoon ended up across your ass in the first place.”

Taking hold of her upper arms, he pulled her from his bed onto her feet, his gaze roaming the length of her body as if inspecting it. She looked down, and she was still naked.

“I didn’t come,” she whispered.

“You are naked. You belong to me when naked.” Shaking his head, he gently captured her chin and titled her face up to his. “Furthermore, my woman will not hide her pleasure like some naughty kid eating a forbidden candy bar in the closet.”

“Sorry, Sir,” tumbled out her mouth too easily. The sheer intensity of his presence was enough to rattle her. Not in a bad way, per se, but in a way that made her want to do strange things, like fall at his knees and suck his dick to give him pleasure, the way he did for her. God, he was hot. There was nothing she wouldn’t do for him.

His thumb grazed her lower lip. “Tell me, Phoebe. Was it your intention to be a naughty brat?”

The smooth timbre with which he asked almost made her want to lie just to see what he would do. But instead, she shook her head.

“I didn’t think so,” he said quietly. “You simply didn’t know better, right?”

She shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head again, confused.

“Masturbating isn’t wrong, sweetheart,” he explained, bringing his lips just a hairsbreadth from hers. “Denying me the pleasure of watching you do it, is.”

He wanted to watch her?

“So, from now on,” he continued, “you’ll give me a heads-up when you’re aroused and want to play with your wonderful pussy. I don’t want to miss out. Deal?”

She nodded.

“Words, Phoebe.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Good,” he released his hold on her. “Now, get on the bed, on your hands and knees, facing me.”

Was he going to spank her again?

“Why,” she breathed.

Hottie tsked. “Because, my dear, I’m going to fuck your pretty mouth while you finger yourself silly. And just when you’re about to come, I’m going to turn you around and put my dick deep in that tight ass of yours just the way you asked.”

He caught her around the waist as she fell, her legs suddenly unable to bear her standing weight. She gasped for air, a climax imminent.