Sweet Sinclair (Masters of the Castle) (12 page)

“Look at me.” He gave her chin a gentle pinch, letting her watery gaze flit over his features. “Do I look mad to you?”

She shivered in his hand, her soft lips parting before the tiny pink tip of her tongue darted out to moisten them. “No. You don’t.”

He stood up. “Come here.”

Following his lead, she came around the picnic table. He drew her close, folding her into his arms. She smelled like the confections she’d been making all night, an amalgamation of sweet scents—vanilla, chocolate, cinnamon, sugar—and she fit against his chest as if she’d been made for him. He liked the feel of her there, so pliant and warm. He stroked her hair, pressed a kiss to her brow and barely resisted the urge to tell her he was falling in love with her. Like ass-wearing, it was probably too soon to say things like that.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said instead. It was inadequate compared with how he felt, but it was safer. Much safer. At least until he felt her arms fold in around his waist.

“First names are for friends,” she told him, tucking her head a little, her voice trembling and small. “Please, if it’s okay with you, I don’t want to be friends tonight.”

His chest got tight. For a moment, he thought his heart had actually stopped. “What do you want, sweetness?”

“More,” she breathed. She pulled back, but only just far enough so he could see her face. “I want you.”

“I want you.”

One would think after such a declaration, at the very least the world would stop turning. But no, Earth did no such thing. Time didn’t stop, either; it didn’t even falter. And Parker didn’t move. Neither did she, not for the longest time.

“Do you trust me?” he finally asked, and Sinclair nodded. She didn’t think she’d ever trusted anyone more. “Do you want me?”

She wanted him so badly, she felt weak from the intensity of it.

“Tonight?” he asked.

“Yes.” Her admission was husky breath.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Said stronger now and without hesitation.

“And after tomorrow, would you want to come back?”

“To see you? Yes.” Still without hesitation. “Yes, please.”

“I want more than weekly chitchat with your sales counter in between us.” There was an intensity about the way he said that that made her tingle all over.

“I want more too.”

He breathed in, slow and steady. It seemed to swell him, making him bigger, stronger somehow. “Let’s go back inside. There’s work still to do.”

And that was how Sinclair found herself standing at the kitchen island, mixing up frosting for the cookies while Parker left the room. He didn’t even say where he was going, only that he would return in a moment and that when he did, they were going to talk about how things were going to change.

Change was good, Sinclair decided. She was ready for change. She didn’t know what direction it would take, but she felt giddy just knowing that Parker would make it feel good no matter what it was. Like that first night had felt good. Like last night too.

Heat that had nothing at all to do with the ovens stole through her. With unsteady hands, she colored the frosting, turning it a pale, flesh-colored pink and was well into coating the first tray of cookies when Parker returned with a duffel bag over one shoulder and that paper sack from Crystal Dolphin’s.

He set both on a stainless steel counter not far from her, and Sinclair quickly looked away so she wouldn’t have to see him unpack the paper bag.

He didn’t let her get away with that for very long. “Come here, sweetness. Take off your clothes. Everything.”

“It’s not really safe to cook in a kitchen without clothes on,” she hedged, but she set the frosting aside. Wiping her hands on the seat of her jeans, she went to him, but almost stopped walking when she saw the stern look he leveled at her. How he could do that, make her stomach quiver and her bottom clench, all with just a glance, she didn’t know.

“Little girls who argue with their masters are little girls destined for a hot, sore bottom,” he warned, although he was smiling when he said it.

That tight quiver in her stomach dropped instantly all the way down into her sex. “I’m not a little girl.” Of all the things to say, those were the words that popped out of her mouth. Worse, they were quickly followed by, “And I liked the spanking you gave me yesterday.”

“How eager are you for one you aren’t going to like?”

So long as he was the one giving it to her, she didn’t think that was possible.

Sinclair took her clothes off. So much for her fancy, lacy new bra and panty set. He barely got to see her in them before she was standing there in nothing at all. She was too rattled to bother folding anything. She wadded them, stuffing them almost shamefully into one another before leaving the whole mess under the nearest counter along with her shoes so they wouldn’t be tripped over.

He had the bag unpacked and all three items lying side by side by the time she straightened. The collar was in his hand. Not the one she’d bought; she had no idea what had happened to that one. It was simply gone. In its place, was the same collar she had worn yesterday, the one with the golden locket that simply read, “His Sweetness.”

“There are very specific things that I am going to do to you tonight,” he said, in that same warning tone of voice that made her pussy flood with heat and dewy drops of musky arousal. “First, I am—”

Sinclair panicked. It was a feeling that came literally out of nowhere when she realized what he was going to say. It was the same way he’d started off every pre-scene negotiation they had yet done. He wasn’t going to have sex with her. The first night, that little phrase had vaguely disappointed her. Last night, the disappointment had been keener, and frankly, had even hurt her feelings a little. Tonight, it made her hands fly up and quickly cover his lips so she wouldn’t have to hear it.

The action startled them both. They stared at one another until he arched one eyebrow and, a little embarrassed over what she’d done, she took her hands away.

“I really am going to spank you now,” he said, very calmly, slightly amused even. “Before I do, is there something you want to tell me?”

“Please don’t say that,” she begged.

“What, specifically? That I’m going to spank you?”

“That you’re not going to—” She almost said ‘make love to me,’ but her throat constricted. She didn’t know if she had the courage to tell him just how far beyond simple sex she thought that moment would be when their bodies finally did come together. Men got funny about things like that, especially if they didn’t feel the same way. She had no idea how he really felt. Oh, she knew he liked her, but like wasn’t love. And frankly, she liked him, she might even being falling in love with him, but falling in love wasn’t love either. She shook her head. “Please, just don’t say you won’t have sex with me, because I very, very much want to have sex with you. And I’m starting to feel very selfish being the only one who…
who… while you… don’t.”

His smile faded. “Sex complicates things, sweetness.”

“Sex makes things better too. And I hate to break it to you, but whether you put your penis in me or not, what we’ve been doing is still called sex.”

He took a step back, the collar still in his hand. “I can’t.”

“You don’t want me?” she asked, her mind racing, trying to figure out where she had so badly misread what had been going on between them.

“Not want you?” Parker lost composure to a breathy bark of laughter. Moving toward her, he caught her hand and pulled her in to lay her open palm and fingers directly over his rock-hard erection. That telltale bulge in his pants didn’t lie, and while he might not win first place in a World’s Biggest Dick competition, he was plenty big enough for her. “Does this feel like I don’t want you? Every time I get close to you, it’s a constant fight not to bend you over the nearest sturdy piece of furniture.”

“Then why—”

“Because,” he growled, “tomorrow is your last day. And if you decide this has all been fun but it’s just not for you, then I would rather not spend the rest of my damn life knowing how good it felt to be inside of you. Not when I can’t have you again! This is who I am, Sinclair. I know you must think the things I’ve been showing you are all fun little games, but it’s very real to me. I am a dominant man. I want you in my collar, not just for a few hours each night, but all day long. I want you tied spread eagle to my bed. I want you on your hands and knees before me while I pull your hair and fuck your mouth, your pussy and your ass, any part of you that I want, whenever I want, over and over again.” He caught her chin when she opened her mouth, silencing her before switching his grip to caress her cheek. “Sinclair, sweetness, I want to sit across the breakfast table from you, eating burnt toast and overcooked eggs while we just talk about inconsequential things. I want to laugh with you, and cry with you, and fight with you, the way couples do when they stay together. I want to see what you look like first thing in the morning without any makeup on, because you’re waking up next to me. I want to watch the grey come into your hair, but thirty years from now, I’ll still be dominant. I’ll still want to tie you over the spanking bench and paint your ass a bright, hot shade of pink. I can’t switch that off like I’m turning off a lamp, and I can’t be someone I’m not. I’ll make us both miserable just by trying.”

Reaching up, Sinclair pressed her hand over his, tucking her cheek into his palm. “That is both the sweetest and the stupidest reason not to have sex that I have ever heard.” She laughed softly and stroked his hand. “You’re telling me you won’t have sex with me because you think I won’t want to be here after tomorrow. But, Parker, while I never would have come here if not for the job, I stayed because I want to be with you. I don’t want to change you, not any part. I like who you are. I like the way you make me feel. I want to have—”

Again, that thoroughly inadequate word “sex” choked her. She couldn’t make herself say it, so she tried again. Still holding onto his hand, she sank to her knees at his feet. “Please, Master Parker, make love to me. Tie me up, if that’s what you want to do. Pull my hair and slap my ass. Spank me when I’ve been a bad girl, or even if I’ve been good, because I liked it when you did that to me. Spank my pussy too, because I really liked that. I don’t know where we’re going to be thirty years from now, but I do know where I want to be when I wake up tomorrow morning. And I can all but guarantee I won’t burn your toast or overcook your eggs.”

He stared at her as if he couldn’t believe what she was saying, and yet wanted to believe every word. Releasing her hand, he stroked her hair instead. “My God,” he said thickly. “You look so beautiful on your knees.”

She felt so submissive, so kinky staying this way, too. She reached for him, laying her hands upon his leather-clad thighs and rubbing slowly up and down. The feel and the smell of it were almost as wonderful as the sight of him reaching for his belt buckle. When he unfastened it, her eyes dropped, becoming glued to the heady sight of swollen pink flesh as it popped, finally unconfined, into view beyond his descending zipper.

Parker stroked her hair again, weaving his fingers down through the red strands and closing his fist near the roots just behind her head. “Open your mouth.”

Sinclair opened. She could count on one hand the number of lovers she’d taken to date; her store had taken up too much of her life and her time. She didn’t have much experience with giving head. It was one of those things that girls were supposed to do as a precursor to getting their boyfriends in the mood—that’s pretty much what she knew about it. Very few of her past lovers had needed much help in that department and Parker needed none right now, but when he gripped himself and angled toward her lips, she only too happily complied.

Already there were pearly drops of clear pre-cum oozing from the tip. She tasted them with her tongue, salty. She closed her lips just around the mushroom-shaped head and suckled, flicking at the hole where the pre-cum kept leaking, and it was just like music to her ears when he groaned and his cock gave a little jump. She’d read an article once about how to give really good blowjobs. Don’t be afraid to get messy, it had claimed, and so that’s what Sinclair did. She slurped and sucked, ran her tongue and lips all up and down his length, moistening him for her palm, then opened wide and took him as deep into her mouth as she could go without gagging. It made her eyes water and the hinge of her jaw ache, but when he caught her by her hair and neck and began to thrust, she knew she had to be doing something right. He was enjoying it, and she loved that she was finally able to return at least some of the pleasure she’d been receiving these last few days.

But it didn’t last very long, and Sinclair wasn’t yet ready to stop sucking, licking, and bobbing her head all up and down his cock when he suddenly pulled out of her mouth. He dragged her up off her knees by her hair. That part she wasn’t quite so fond of, but the way his other hand gripped her neck helped to mitigate the pull, and nothing could have dispelled the erotic thrill of being thrust around and forcibly bent over the counter.

The metal was cold on her belly and breasts, and the edge bit into her hips. There was nothing gentle about the way he suddenly slapped her ass three times in brisk succession, perhaps not hard, but certainly hard enough to put a breathtaking sting in her tail.

“That,” he said, “is for covering my mouth while I was speaking to you. This—” Three more brisk slaps bounced back and forth from her right buttock to her left. “—is for keeping me in a state of constant erection for the last year. And this—” His hand gentled even as it fell into a steady rain of milder swats that warmed the sting, spread it out until it covered the whole of her bottom, and sank it in until more than just her bottom was feeling the rosy effects. “This is just because you like it.”

And she did. She really did. She couldn’t stop herself from arching out her hips and pushing back into his falling hand. She couldn’t stop from wriggling, her bottom dancing to the rhythm of each soft clap and rasping caress. She almost felt sorry when the sting began to fade, becoming overshadowed by the jolt of harder and harder impacts, until the pleasure was right here, bouncing out from under his hand and landing directly on her sex.

When she heard his order, “Spread your legs,” she snapped her feet wide apart, opening herself up to give him unhindered access.

His next slap, the gentlest he’d yet given by far, landed full across the pulsing lips of her sex. It made a mortifyingly wet splatting sound and sent a cascade of molten liquid gushing from her core.

“I said, spread your legs,” he commanded, almost as if he were angry, except that he was cupping her labia now, alternately squeezing as if to possess her and then rubbing hard in ways that made the liquid squish of her manipulated sex fill the kitchen. He had her clit right under his fingers, rubbing aggressively back and forth to bring her dancing up onto her tiptoes. Her hot belly squeaked as she slid against the metal counter and threw her feet wider apart.