Timeless (8 page)

“Go change into dry clothes.”

The tone of his voice, coupled with the forbidding look on his face, has me scrambling to obey. His concern seems to have morphed into tightly restrained fury.

In his bedroom, I peel off my wet clothes and dig through one of his dresser drawers until I find a soft, long-sleeved, gray t-shirt with
Dunn & Wallace
emblazoned across the front and a pair of thick socks that come up to my knees. Damn but I could use some underwear. I feel bare and exposed under his t-shirt, but at least it’s long on me. Where the hell is my thong?

I take my sweet time changing. I’m not in a hurry to go back out and face Marcus. When I finally emerge from the bedroom, he’s waiting for me, pacing in front of the fire.

“What the hell were you thinking?” he demands. The man who never gets mad has gone beyond angry. He’s furious.

“I’m sorry. I saw the ATV out the window and thought I’d use it to get back to Five Pines. I was going to bring it back tomorrow.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the ATV!” he roars. “And you may not have lived until tomorrow. You could have been killed out there!”

I snort. “That’s ridiculous. I’m an FBI agent. I can take care of myself.”

“Really?” He takes a menacing step forward but I hold my ground. “Is that why you ended up almost hitting a tree and winding up buried in four feet of snow? There was so much that could have gone wrong! It’s not uncommon for a storm like this to cause an avalanche. Did you think about that?”

I shake my head mutely. I hadn’t been thinking about much other than getting the hell out of here.

“If I hadn’t seen you take off and followed you, who knows how long you would have been lying in the snow. No one else is crazy enough to be out in this shit. And with the inadequate clothing you were wearing, you would have frozen to death sooner rather than later.”

“But I was fine!” I interrupt. He turns blazing eyes on me and I wisely close my mouth.

“Thank God you weren’t hurt, but you could have been. Underneath all that snow at the fork in the road is an eighty foot drop off. If you’d been thrown from the ATV two seconds earlier, you’d be at the bottom of a ravine now.”

I blanch.

“I’m sorry,” I say quietly. “You’re right. It was irresponsible of me.”

“Damn straight it was!” he says. “Why didn’t you just wait out the storm like I told you to? What was so important that you had to get back to the resort today?”

There’s no way in hell I’m going to admit it’s just too damn hard to be around him, wanting him and knowing he doesn’t feel the same. “This was my chance to experiment,” I retort. “Explore my boundaries. I signed up for the retreat so that I could see what D/s and BDSM is really like. I wanted to meet a man who would treat me like a woman, not an FBI agent who’s supposed to be competent and in control all the time. I wanted to give away my power, just for a little while. I wanted to be with someone I could be weak with, because I know he’ll be strong. For once in my life, I didn’t want to have to think or decide anything; I just wanted to feel small and insignificant. And you ruined it!” I punctuate my last sentence with my finger thrust into his rock hard chest. His eyes narrow dangerously and my stomach flutters.

“You want to know what it’s really like, do you? In a D/s relationship, a sub doesn’t blatantly defy her Dom and put her life at risk, and if she does, she’s punished. If you were mine, that’s exactly what I’d do. In fact, I’m itching to do it anyway.”

If I were his
. My heart skips a beat at the thought.

“You want to punish me?” I whisper.

“Hell yes, I want to punish you! It scared the living shit out of me when I saw the ATV hit that rock and you go flying and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do about it.”

My head is screaming that this is a bad idea, but I don’t care. You don’t usually get what you want or need by listening to the voice of reason, and what I want, what I’ve always wanted, is Marcus.

“Okay,” I say quietly.

“Okay, what?”

“Okay, you can punish me.”

His eyes widen with surprise and then flare with lust. He takes a step closer and cups his palm against my cheek. “I can punish you?” His voice is soft but his eyes are boring into mine and I know exactly what he wants to hear.

“Please punish me,” I whisper.

“Is that really what you want?” He’s scrutinizing my face, attuned to the slightest nuance in my expression.

I nod. Here’s everything I’ve ever wanted in the mouthwateringly sexy package that is Marcus Dunn. Even though I know it’s just for tonight and he has no interest in anything more, at least I know he’ll give me the full experience I came to Denver for. If I really want to see if this is what I’ve been searching for—if this dynamic is what will fulfill that vague ache inside of me—this is my chance to find out. But if I’m being honest with myself, more than anything, I just want one more night with him.

I keep my tone light. “I’m clearly not making it back to Five Pines at this point. The least you could do after kidnapping me is show me what I’m missing since I’m not at the retreat.”

He smiles, and I swear he looks like the devil himself with warm brown eyes that crinkle at the corners. Then, in the blink of an eye, he’s all business.

“Bend over the back of the couch and wait for me,” he commands. “I’ll be right back.”

I do as he says, my heart tripping in my chest as I drape my torso over the back of the soft leather couch. It’s low enough that the top edge hits just above my pelvic bone so that I’m bent at the waist, my bottom covered by his long t-shirt but just barely. I brace myself with my hands on the seat cushion, feeling slightly awkward but unmistakably aroused.

Seconds turn into minutes, and the waiting only increases my nervous anticipation. I hear him come back into the room and the sound of firewood being thrown on the fire. Then he’s behind me, his hands pushing the soft t-shirt up around my waist, baring my ass to him.

“What are you going to do?” I ask breathlessly.

“I’m going to take a belt to your ass,” he says matter-of-factly.

My stomach drops the rest of the way to my toes as I whip my head around to look at him. He’s standing behind me wearing jeans and nothing else, his bare chest, dusted with a smattering of dark hair, gleaming in the firelight. A thick black leather belt is doubled over in his right hand.

Seeing my wide eyes focused on the belt, he walks around to the front of the couch and crouches down in front of me so his face is level with mine.

“This is a punishment, Ari, but I’m not angry,” he says softly. “I want you to know that.”

I nod. I know bone-deep that he’s too disciplined and in control of himself to ever lash out in anger. This is something entirely different. Something dark and erotic and completely intoxicating.

“But you were,” I say in a small voice.

He nods. “I was. You mean something to me, gattina.” He scrapes a hand over his face. “I couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to you.”

My heart melts a little at his admission.

“But I would never touch a woman in anger. And especially not you.” He smiles then, a slow curve of his lips that hints at debauchery. “Make no mistake though. This is going to hurt, because I want you to think twice before you do anything that rash again without thinking of your own safety. But I won’t give you more than you can take. Do you trust me to know your limits?”

I nod again. There’s no one on Earth I trust more. Marcus is one of the most honorable men I’ve ever met. I sneak a sidelong glance at him. I always feel safe with him, even when he looks imposing as hell and has a belt in his hand and my naked ass in his sights.

“Good. I think a dozen will be sufficient. I want you to count each one, then thank me and ask for another.”

“I…” I start to bluster indignantly.

“The appropriate response is ‘yes, sir,’” he interrupts implacably.

“Yes, sir,” I say meekly.

One hand slips up the front of my shirt and pinches my nipple. I jump slightly, but quickly resume my stance over the couch.

“Very good,” he says, and his chuckle of approval warms me all the way to my toes. “Widen your stance.”

I inch my feet apart slightly.

“More.” The command sends little shivers of desire dancing along my skin.

God, I feel even more vulnerable now with my legs more than shoulder distance apart, my ass and sex blatantly exposed. And it’s hot as fuck!

I catch his slight movement out of my peripheral vision and I squeeze my eyes closed, steeling myself for the sting of the belt, but instead he lays it gently across the small of my back. Then, just like last night, his big warm hands are on my butt, rubbing and kneading it oh so deliciously. And—smack!—a few heavy thudding spanks with his hand at the juncture of my thighs, followed by a few harder slaps on each cheek. Then more rough squeezing and a few more well-placed spanks.

My ass is feeling pretty warm right now, and I can’t help but rub my pelvis against the back of the couch. Who knew a spanking could be so damned erotic?

The belt hits my primed buttocks like a blaze of fire.

“Motherfucker!” I yell.

The bastard has the nerve to actually chuckle. He reaches under my shirt and fondles my breast again, tugging on the nipple. I try to squirm away and he pinches it sharply. “That wasn’t the correct response, gattina,” he chastises softly, and I can hear the smile in his voice.

“One,” I say between clenched teeth.

“And…” he prompts, trailing the soft leather over my sensitive ass. A shiver runs up my spine, but I’m far from cold.

“Thank you. Please give me another.”

He cracks the belt against my left buttock. Damn, it stings!

“Two. Thank you. Please give me another.”

The third hits me on the right cheek.

“Three. Thank you. Please give me another.”

The fourth is the hardest yet, striking me right at the top of my thighs.

“Fuck! You are a sadistic bastard!”

“Am I?” He glides his finger over my pussy lips and plunges into my wet opening. “Is that why you’re so wet?” I’m not fooling him for a second. He slips it out and circles my clit slowly. “I think you’re forgetting something,” he murmurs in my ear.

“Four,” I say breathlessly. Despite the sting on my ass, or maybe somehow because of it, I’m impossibly aroused. “Thank you. Please give me another one.”

The fifth and sixth are light glancing blow, and this time when I thank him I do it a little more genuinely. My butt is grateful for the reprieve. He drags the belt between my legs so that the smooth leather grazes over my needy clit and I moan. He’s killing me.

“My belt makes you wet,” he observes.

I would answer, but I’ve lost my ability to speak.

He finds it with the next slap of leather against my already flaming hot skin.

“Ouch!” Another firm tug on my nipple has me yelling, “Eight! Thank you. Please give me another.”

This time he doesn’t let go. He squeezes my breast and fondles my nipple, rolling the taut peak between his fingers expertly. Still squeezing and pulling my nipple with one hand, he lands another stripe across my ass.

“Nine,” I manage, my voice strangled. “Thank you. Give me another one, dammit!” I’m ready for this to end so I can finally feel his cock inside of me.

“Manners, gattina,” he reminds me reprovingly. “There’ll be no topping from the bottom with me. You may be strong, but I’m stronger.” His hand presses firmly at the small of my back, holding me still.

His words, coupled with the possessive gesture, ignite me. I had told him exactly what I wanted, and he’s giving it to me without hesitation. His undeniable power over me thrills me.

“Try again,” he says softly in my ear.

“Please give me another one,” I whisper.

The leather bites into my ass so hard that I lift up on my toes.

“I like that,” he says, his voice carnal. “Stay on your toes for the last two. And thank me properly.”

I do as he says, feeling the wet evidence of my desire trickle down my thighs.

He whips me with the belt twice more and they are the hardest blows yet. I struggle to stay on my toes, determined not to disappoint him.

“God, you’re perfect,” he whispers as I thank him for the last one.

I hear the belt clatter to the floor and his fingers find my quivering sex. He plays with me, stroking my labia and tormenting my clit until my pelvis is grinding against the back ridge of the sofa.

“Please, Marcus. Fuck me,” I beg. I have never felt so desperate to be taken and filled before. “I want to feel you inside of me.”

He moves away from my needy core and his hands rub over my sore and blazing ass. It hurts, but the touch of his rough hand somehow takes the pain and turns it into molten desire.

“I thought we already talked about topping from the bottom, Ari,” he says reprovingly. “I’m in charge tonight, not you. Do you need a few more lashes to remind you who’s in control?”

I shake my head wildly and he chuckles.

“Now be still. I intend to make you come first.”

Oh god. It’s hard to argue with that.

His firm fingers spread my butt cheeks and I want to squirm away, but the sheer awareness of his powerful presence behind me keeps me rooted to the spot. He skims a finger over the tightly puckered hole of my ass and I shiver.

“Have you ever been taken here?” he asks softly.

I shake my head violently. “No! And I don’t want to be.”

He presses slightly and I tremble. “Really? We’ll see about that.”

The thought is so decadent, so forbidden, and oh so intoxicating.

He’s on his knees now, tonguing me as his finger massages my anal entrance deliberately, pressing slowly but insistently into my most private of places. Some distant part of my mind is telling me this is wrong, that I should make him stop, but I can’t think straight. He’s driving me mad with his tongue, licking and biting and sucking until I think I’m going to explode. And his finger! Somehow it’s inside my ass now up to the first knuckle, invading me intimately. My hips don’t know where to go—arched back into his forbidden touch or forward into the maddening hot wet heat of his tongue. In the end it doesn’t matter. I’m immobilized by his firm grasp, my body his to do with as he wishes.