Knight (An Impossible Novel) (26 page)

He shot me a wicked grin.  “Sweetheart, I can promise you’re not coming back down to earth for a long time.”  His hot breath played across my lips as he brought his mouth teasingly close to mine.  “I can do this all fucking day.”

It was a promise he had made before.  One he had never gotten to keep.

I arched up into him, my lips straining to touch his.  His grip on my hair kept me firmly in place, and his darkly amused chuckle danced across my skin as he denied me.

“That’s not how this works, girl.  If you want me to be your Master, then you have to play by my rules.”

I moaned as his words sent my pulse racing.  It pumped through my body in double time and made my core throb.

“I’m sorry, Master.  I’ll be good.”

This time, there was no trace of fear behind the promise, only pure, unrestrained lust.  This was what I had craved for so long, what I had been so cruelly denied when I was ripped from Master’s presence.

His fingertips traced the line of my lips.

“I know you will be,” he said cockily. 
“Now.  You’re going to be very quiet, girl.  We aren’t the only ones in this apartment.  And while I usually wouldn’t mind making you scream for everyone to hear, this isn’t the time or place for that.”

Before I could whisper my compliance, he pressed two fingers through my parted lips.  The tactile sensation of his rough fingertips brushing across my tongue elicited a groan from deep within me.

“I thought I told you to be quiet,” he remarked.  His fingers penetrated further, touching the back of my throat.  He stared down at me censoriously as he maintained the uncomfortable pressure, trapping me in place with his hold on my hair.  It took all of my concentration to relax my muscles, so much concentration that I could hardly remember to breathe.  His message was clear: he could control me with very little effort.  I could comply with his orders willingly, or he would find a different way to get what he wanted.

My nipples and clit hardened in response, but I held in my desperate whimper.  I went completely limp in his hold, silently demonstrating my total submission to his will.

“Good girl,” he whispered in my ear.  His fingers retreated to brush over my tongue once again.  I closed my lips around them, sucking them as I would his cock.  He pumped in and out as he pressed me back down into the mattress, settling his body over mine.

His hand left my hair to find the hem of my camisole.  Slowly, he worked the cottony material up my body as his hand glided across my bare skin, teasing over my abdomen before sweeping up between my breasts.  My back arched when the air hit my tightened nipples, but his palm pressed me back down firmly.  At the same time, his fingers pressed deeper into my mouth, a silent warning for my compliance.  He didn’t withdraw until I managed to relax completely beneath him once again.

He rewarded me by pinching and pulling at my nipples while grazing his teeth across my neck.  I wanted so badly to lean into his touch, to cry out my pleasure.  It was even more difficult to resist the urge to grind my hips up against his rock hard cock in an effort to alleviate the painful pulsing of my clit.  The power-play was a torturous pleasure of its own, adding another dimension to the eroticism of his touch while further tormenting me by heightening my aching need.

In my motionless silence, my entire world became focused on him: the feel of his teeth teasing my flesh; the slightly salty taste of his fingers; the intoxicating smell that was uniquely his.

He abandoned my breasts, and I resolutely swallowed my cry of protest.  Mercifully, his touch moved to the upper edge of my sweatpants.  His fingers left my mouth so that both of his hands were fisted in the material.  Hooking his thumbs into my panties, he jerked them down my thighs along with my sweats.  The sudden exposure made me whimper in a mix of delight and thrilling fear.

I realized my mistake half a second too late.

His grin was downright evil, as though he had been waiting for me to slip up and was pleased at the opportunity to further discipline me.

His palm abruptly clamped down over my mouth, and he pinched my clit hard.  My eyes flew wide as a shocked scream tore its way up my throat, mercifully muffled by his grip on my face.

He
tutted
at me for my second show of disobedience, knowing full well that it would have been impossible for me to hold back my cry.

I glared at him.

My Master was a bastard.  A cruel, evil, manipulative –

I gasped when he abruptly drove two fingers into me.  They found the sweet spot at the front of my inner walls and stroked against it.

My brow furrowed, and I looked down at him in confusion.  He was rewarding me when I had disobeyed him?

I didn’t trust the glint in his eyes, but I could no longer summon up the will to wonder what it meant or why he was giving me pleasure.  All I knew was there was a storm gathering deep within me, and I was desperate for the lighting to strike.  The electricity crackled inside me, setting the fine hairs at the back of my neck on end as my flesh tingled.  My thighs trembled in anticipation. 
Almost there.  Almost.

His fingers withdrew from me abruptly.

My whine of protest was smothered by his palm.

His smile was twisted.  He was taking immense pleasure in toying with me.  If his grin hadn’t been enough to communicate that, his hard cock certainly was.  It jerked against my thigh, separated from me only by the thin fabric of his trousers.

In a burst of defiance, I reached for his zipper.  The element of surprise gave me enough time to snake my hand into his boxers before his fingers found my clit again.  This time the pain of his pinch was made even worse by my increased sensitivity.  But after his cruel denial, it also brought a spike of pleasure that sent me hurtling over the edge.  Even as I screamed out my orgasm against his hand, his voice penetrated my mind from where he whispered at my ear.

“You have a lot to learn, girl,” he told me roughly.  “And I can promise I will thoroughly enjoy teaching you.”

His fingers left my clit to grip his cock, drawing it out fully so he could drive into me.  His flesh entered mine with beautiful ruthlessness, stretching and filling me.  His harsh thrusts punished me for each sharp cry that escaped me, even as the shocking pleasure of him moving roughly inside me elicited more. 

He reached between us to pinch my nipples in further reprimand for my disobedience.  All of his efforts to correct my behavior only made me helpless to prevent my own defiance of his command.
If it weren’t for his firm hold on my mouth, my delighted screams would have echoed throughout the room.

The lustful light in his dancing eyes let me know that was his exact intention.  He controlled me completely, even in my disobedience.  He took possession of my defiance, harnessing it and using it as a weapon against me, fashioning it into a toy he could play with.

With that realization, I gave him everything: my body, my will, my soul.

He would have settled for nothing less.  I had demanded that he be my Master, and he was showing me exactly what that meant.

The complete release brought on by my acknowledgement of his mastery of my entire being sent me soaring.  My cry of pleasure was magnified for the space of a moment when he removed his hand from me, only to replace it with his lips.  His groan and my scream mingled in our mouths, an echo of our inextricable joining in our shared ecstasy.

Heat lashed into me as he spent himself deep inside me, marking his possession.  The sensation only heightened my pleasure as I reveled in his ownership.

Master couldn’t leave me now; he was mine just as much as I was his.

Chapter 23

Master shifted his weight off me, pulling me with him as he rolled onto his side.  He kept one arm locked around my back, his other hand brushing my hair off my sweat-dampened brow.  I hated the clothing that still separated our skin, but my muscles were too watery to do anything about it.  Besides, I didn’t mind that Master hadn’t wasted the time to undress before taking me.

Concern suddenly clouded his eyes.  “Fuck.  I didn’t use a condom.  Are you
-”

“It’s okay,” I assured him quickly, before his worry could ruin the perfect moment.  “I was tested after…  I’m clean.  And I’m on the shot.”

I flinched at the thought of when I had received the shot.  It hadn’t been my choice.

Master pressed his lips to the top of my head.  “I’m sorry, little one.  I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“It’s alright.  I’d rather he gave me the shot than…”  I locked the thought away where it belonged.  Those memories didn’t rule me anymore.  Master had helped me take control of them.

I looked up into those gorgeous eyes that had kept me grounded through the last weeks.  “I’m glad you didn’t use a condom.  I like the feel of you inside me. 
Nothing separating us.”

He smiled at me gently.  “I like it too, sweetheart.  But I’m sorry I lost control.”

I gave a very unladylike snort.  “You seemed pretty in control to me,” I remarked.

His lips took on an arrogant twist.  “That’s because controlling you is easy.  Controlling
myself is more difficult.”

I rolled my eyes at him.  “Could you be any cockier?”

He just shrugged.  “This is what you signed on for, sweetheart.”  His eyes suddenly turned serious, burning into me.  “And it’s too late to turn back.  You’re mine now.”

I shivered in the wake of his intense stare, thrilling at his possessive words.  He had said them before, but it was different now.  He wasn’t claiming the frightened slave he had rescued; he was claiming Lydia Chase.  He was claiming
me.

His fierce devotion was baffling.  Yes, our mutual need had always bordered on obsession.  Hell, it had crossed that border a long time ago.  Had he been struck by the same desire for me that I had felt for him from the very beginning?  Why had he chosen to take me in, to commit himself to taking care of me?

“Why did you help me?”  I asked softly.  “You stayed with me through the withdrawals.  You spent every night by my bedside.  Why?”

His expression tightened with remembered anger.  “When I found you at Decadence…  I was furious that your so-called ‘Master’ had allowed you to use.  It’s a Dom’s responsibility to take care of his submissive, and the thought that the man who was supposed to have been caring for you had let you succumb to addiction made me sick.  Then I spoke to you, and I realized he had been using your addiction to ensure your obedience.  The fact that he had used BDSM as a
guise for abuse disgusted me.  The marks he had left on you…”

His arms tensed around me, and he made a visible effort to rein in his ire.  When his gaze focused on me once again, his eyes were disturbed.

“I understand how to use pain to earn a woman’s submission.  I understand how to play mind games to manipulate her into doing what I want.  I saw the man who had abused you reflected in myself, and that sickened me.  BDSM saved my life, and the knowledge that I was like him, that my mind worked in the same way, shook me to my core.  I felt I had to prove it to myself that I could use that part of me to help you.”

I regarded him seriously, touching my fingers to his cheek to call him back to me.  “You are nothing like him,” I said firmly.  “Don’t even begin to compare yourself to him.  You
did
help me.  You are helping me.  I’ve told you that.”

He blew out a long breath.  “I know.  If I didn’t believe that, I wouldn’t be here right now.”

“What do you mean when you say BDSM saved your life?”  I asked tentatively.  Master’s brand of BDSM had certainly saved
my
life.  I burned to understand this shared bond, to learn more about Master.  To learn more about Smith James.

“I made mistakes when I was younger,” he said earnestly, openly.  “Hell, ‘mistakes’ doesn’t even begin to cover it.  I fucked up in so many ways. 
I
was fucked up in so many ways.”  His eyes searched mine.  “You want to know why I was so intent on helping you?  I didn’t just see myself in that Bastard; I saw myself in
you.
  I used to suffer from an addiction of my own.”  His lips thinned in a grim, self-effacing smile.  “No.  I didn’t ‘suffer’ from it.  I chose it.  But I suffered because of it.  And so did the people I loved.”

He paused as his gaze turned inward.

“You don’t have to tell me about it if you don’t want to,” I said softly.  He had already revealed so much more of himself than he ever had before.  I didn’t want to upset him by pressing him.

“No,” he said.  “I want to.  You deserve to know.  When I was eighteen, I said to hell with all of my family’s expectations and didn’t show up to college for my first semester.  I wasn’t very good at taking orders back then, either.”
He shot me an uneven smile.  “My parents didn’t even realize it until they received a letter from Johns Hopkins saying I had never attended a single class.  I was an ungrateful, obnoxious little shit.  I took all of my savings and the money my dad had given me to live for the year and bought a used Harley Road King.  I had always loved bikes, and I liked the idea of being a rebel.  College and a corporate career were beneath me.

“Since I had blown all of my money in the course of a day, I started working at
Slim’s Garage, where I had bought the bike.  The guys asked me to ride with them, and I ended up joining their gang.  I thought I was so badass.”

He shook his head, as though he could admonish his teenage self.  “The Pagans, a one-
percenter outlaw motorcycle gang, were affiliated with my gang, and we dealt meth for them.  It was an easy way for me to make more money, and meth was a hell of a rush.  I spent my days dealing, fucking, and using.”

He hesitated, his eyes turning haunted as he became lost in memories of his own darkness.  I ran my fingers through his hair, lightly scraping his scalp.  He leaned into my comforting touch without seeming to realize it.

“One day, my father showed up at Slim’s.  He had received the letter from Johns Hopkins, and he had tracked me down.  He was furious, and he tried to drag me out of there.  But I was a hard man then, and I wasn’t about to let my daddy boss me around in front of my gang.  I threw the first punch.  I just wanted to make him leave me alone; I didn’t want to actually hurt him.  My father had never done anything wrong by me, other than being a strict tight-ass.  But my boys got involved.  They beat the shit out of him.  And I didn’t stop them.  I just sat back and watched.”

He drew in a shaky breath.  For all of his boldness in recounting his sins, he was obviously still deeply disturbed by what he had done.

“A month later, my mom showed up at the garage.  She was a wasted wreck, and when I tried to calm her down, she just slapped me.  She told me that my father had died from cerebral edema – brain swelling – following head trauma from the beating.  He had been dead for a month, and I hadn’t known.  I had missed the funeral, had left my mother alone to deal with the grief.  And I was responsible for his death.”

His jaw tightened.  “I never saw my mother again after that day.  I thought if I made things right, I could somehow make amends for what I had done.  But how can you ever make something like that right?  I turned on the Pagans, gave them up to the feds.  Getting clean was harder than turning them in; fixing myself seemed almost as impossible as fixing what I had done.”

I remained silent, allowing him to take the time he needed to continue on.  He was sharing a deep part of himself with me, and I wasn’t going to cut him off with unnecessary words.  He wanted me to know this, to know his deepest sins now that I had committed to him.  I had come to him at my worst, and he was sharing the worst of himself with me.  Despite the nature of our sexual relationship, we were finally coming together as equals.

“That’s when I found BDSM,” he said.  “My cravings for meth ruled me; I felt powerless to my addiction.  I had thought I was taking control of my own life by rebelling against what my family had wanted for me, but my life was a chaotic, meaningless mess.  Taking control sexually gave me the sense of power I needed to resist my cravings.  It wasn’t just about controlling a submissive; I had to exert control over myself.  They placed their pleasure, their safety, completely in my hands.  It was incredibly heady, a rush better than any drug.  But even more importantly, it was my responsibility to take care of them, and I couldn’t uphold that responsibility without complete mental clarity.”

He tenderly cupped my cheek in his large hand.  “The trust of a submissive is the most beautiful gift that can be given, and to betray that trust would be unforgivable.  And when it came to you…  You had no choice but to trust me when I took you in.  You were completely dependent on me.  In a twisted way, I relished that.  Caring for you, watching you blossom back to life because of my guidance…  I’ve never felt a sense of satisfaction deeper than that.  The realization that what gave me so much pleasure had actually led to me take advantage of you was horrible to face.  I’ve been a fucking mess since you left.”

I smoothed the creases in his forehead with a gentle brush of my fingertips.

“You didn’t take advantage of me,” I said quietly.

“Just because you’re happy with the way things turned out doesn’t make what I did right.  But I meant what I said before: I don’t regret it.  God knows I should, but I don’t.  I’m glad you had time to get your head on straight without me, though.  I don’t think I could have ever forgiven myself if I didn’t at least try to let you go.”

I gave him a small smile.  “Nice try.  Too bad I’m not letting
you
go.”

He returned my smile and kissed the tip of my nose.  “You’re a feisty little sub, aren’t you?”

Sub. 
Not slave.

“I like that word,” I breathed.

His grin was wolfish.  “So do I.  It suits you.”

“Speaking of suits,” I said lightly, plucking at the buttons on his rumpled white shirt, “you are wearing far too many clothes, Master.”

He caught my wrists in his hand, chuckling as he stilled my efforts.  “You’re definitely too demanding for your own good.  Do you know what happens to demanding subs?”

My grin was wicked as I gave a dramatic shudder.  “I suspect they’re punished with multiple orgasms.”

He barked a laugh.  “I think I like Lydia Chase.  She’s awfully cute when she’s trying to be flippant.”  He leaned into me, and his teeth grazed the shell of my ear.  “Too bad for her, flippant subs don’t get to choose their punishments.”

His lips came down on mine, drugging me with his kiss once again.  With only a few strokes of his tongue, I went soft and pliant beneath him, my body moving under his silent direction as he removed our clothes.

His cock was fully hard when it pressed into my naked thigh.  I shifted towards it, my pussy instinctively seeking to be filled.  He suddenly gripped my sex hard, pinning me in place with his fingers inside me and his palm on my clit.  His rough, possessive touch made my core throb, and I pulsed around him greedily.  But he just held me firmly, his hand unmoving as he brought his lips, his teeth, down on my nipples.  With each sharp nip and swirl of his wicked tongue, my muscles spasmed around his fingers, desperately seeking further stimulation.

A violent trembling claimed my entire body as he took me to the edge and held me there, torturing me with pleasure that was both too much and not enough.

“Please, Master.”  The whispered words were so ragged, I wasn’t sure if I had managed to form words at all.

His lips left my nipples, and he cocked his head at me.  Before I could release my sigh of relief at the end to his torture of my breasts, he brushed his forefinger against my g-spot.  A little zing of bliss sizzled through me, but it wasn’t enough.  The tease of pleasure had only been meant to punish me further, to prolong my suffering.

“Did you have something you wanted to say to me, sub?”  Master asked casually, as though he had missed a passing remark rather than a desperate plea for release.

“Please, Master.  Please let me come.”

Another little jolt struck as he moved in me again, and I whined at the sweet torment.

“‘Please’?”  He repeated the word a touch condescendingly.  “Is that all you have to say?”

What more did he want from me?

Instinct drove me to roll my hips up against him in a desperate bid for further stimulation, but he held me fast.

“I’m sorry!”  I gasped, realizing what I was supposed to say.  “I’m sorry for being demanding, Master.”

His smile was proud and perversely pleased.  He touched his lips to mine in a doting kiss. “You’re forgiven, girl.  Now, are you going to be flippant with me in the future?”

I bit the inside of my cheek.  I knew the answer he wanted, the answer that would allow me to come.  He wanted me to say ‘no.’  But that would be a lie, and lying was against the rules.

“If I tell you the truth, may I please come, Master?”