Deep Domination (Bought by the Billionaire #2) (6 page)

She moaned in abandon and spread her legs farther apart, welcoming him deeper, wanting more pain, more pleasure.

When he’d told her how she was to be punished, she’d been afraid, not turned on. She’d had fantasies about spanking before, but never as a way to illustrate that she was beneath a man, beneath his consideration, a whore he would use the way he saw fit. But by the second slap, she’d known there would be no fighting the waves of arousal rushing across her skin, tightening her nipples until they stung.

The blows sent thick, sticky desire spreading through her core, until blood rushed to the places where he struck her, making her engorged sex plump and sensitive. He’d hit her with the flat of his hand, with enough strength to hurt, making it clear this wasn’t about mutual pleasure, but it didn’t matter. The pain summoned pleasure and together they banished the fear and anxiety that had been plaguing her for days.

For the first time since they’d arrived on the island, she wasn’t living half in the terrifyingly uncertain future. She was completely in this moment, this spell-binding, mind-numbing moment, where she was getting fucked so hard her stinging ass rippled with every rough stroke of Jackson’s cock. She was soaking wet and her pelvis filled with blood, heat, and that heavy feeling that spread through her core just before release.

But this build was so much more intense than anything she’d ever felt before. This was a sledgehammer swinging straight at her soul, ready to shatter everything that made her Hannah apart. This was more than submission, this was abandon, this was reckless and dangerous and afterward she might never be the same.

As the orgasm crept closer, she began to shake, afraid of the wave of pleasure now that it was so close there would be no escape from it, but she was helpless to hold it at bay. The next time Jackson’s cock rammed home she screamed again, her legs buckling as ecstasy unlike anything she’d ever experienced rocketed through her, ricocheting through her body like a bullet fired in a steel room.

She fell to the floor and he followed her, kneeling behind her, his urgent rhythm growing frantic as he pushed through her pulsing flesh, forcing her to accept him even as her pussy clenched down so hard it felt like she might squeeze him in half.

This hurt, too. It hurt and it was perfect. It was wicked and it was wonderful. She didn’t know up from down, right from wrong, or anything for certain except that when Jackson grabbed a fistful of her hair and wrenched her head back as he came inside her with a roar, there was nothing to do but call his name as she came again.

The second orgasm was fire licking across her flesh, singeing her nerve endings, leaving scars behind as her soul was forced from her skin and bones by the strength of her pleasure. She would never be the same. She would
never
be the same. Never.

She knew it was true, even before she came back to herself enough to realize that she was muttering the words beneath her breath, while Jackson stroked a slow, easy hand down her sweat-soaked back.

“Never,” she whispered, gulping hard as she tried to stop the flow of words and failed. “Never the same.”

“Shh,” Jackson said gently, still stroking her feverish skin. “You’re safe. It’s all right.”

She shivered. She wasn’t safe. She was far, far from safe. She’d just had an out-of-body experience triggered by a hard spanking and a harder fucking from a psychopath. But something in Jackson’s tone and that soft touch from his often cruel hand helped her calm down enough to regain control.

“I’m sorry, sir,” she finally said, surprised to find tears rising in her eyes.

“Why are you sorry?” He continued to pet her, helping her come back to her body, making her aware of the fact that his softening cock was still buried inside of her.

“I let go of the bed,” she whispered.

“You did,” he said. “You also came without permission.”

“Oh.” Hannah risked a glance over her shoulder. “I forgot about that part.”

“You’re a very bad girl,” he said, running his hand over the swollen flesh of her ass as he pulled out and guided the condom off of his cock. “Very bad.”

Now that she could see her own skin, she was amazed that the spanking hadn’t hurt more. Her bottom was the bright, lobster red of a tourist’s sunburn. It was going to ache like hell tomorrow, and there might even be bruises under that enflamed skin, but right now, there was no pain.

Right now she couldn’t feel anything but a floating, helplessly satisfied feeling unlike anything she’d felt before. Even with Jackson that night in her sister’s bed. She was high on what they’d done and already craving another fix.

“Will you have to punish me again sir?” she asked, shocked by the erotic invitation implicit in her breathy whisper.

She was even more shocked when Jackson smiled, a beautiful, pleased-with-her smile that made her want to please him again. Again and again, no matter what an insufferable maniac he was or how much she feared that pleasing him wouldn’t be enough to keep him from driving her out of her mind.

“Yes, I’m going to have to punish you again,” he said, sending a thrill of excitement racing through her. “I’m going to have to punish you until you remember to follow the rules. Now turn around, lie down, and spread your legs. We’re going to teach you how not to come.”

“Yes, sir.” Hannah obeyed, fresh heat rushing from her well-used pussy as he brought his hands to the backs of her legs and spread them wide.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Hannah

Hannah held her breath as she gazed down the landscape of her own body at the gorgeous man kneeling between her thighs, suddenly wishing things were different, wishing this was only a kinky encounter instead of a hopelessly fucked up one.

Jackson was heart-stopping like this, a man in his element, in complete control. If things were different, she could quickly become addicted to this version of Jackson and all the viciously wonderful things he made her feel.

“There is only one rule of cunt licking club,” he said, a wicked twinkle in his eye as he lowered his face between her legs.

“What’s that, sir?” she asked, clit swelling as she imagined what it would feel like to have his mouth on her.

“You do not talk about cunt licking club,” he said, the joke taking her by surprise. “And you don’t come until I tell you to.”

Before she could say “yes, sir” his tongue was driving so deep into her pussy it made her sex clench and her back arch off the cool floorboards beneath her.

He cupped her stinging ass in his hands, leveraging her closer to his mouth, banishing the pain that flashed through her abused flesh with the magic he worked with his tongue. Hannah’s hands fisted at her sides and her eyes rolled back as he flicked and jabbed, showing her just what she’d been missing with men who were mere tourists in the land of cunnilingus.

Jackson teased her clit with feather light brushes before thrusting into her pussy and curling the thick muscle, caressing her inner walls in a come hither movement that had her pressing her heels into the earth, desperate to get closer to his mouth. She groaned as he pushed deeper, hitting some previously undiscovered place inside her that made her pussy weep for more of him.

“Easy,” he murmured, withdrawing his magnificent tongue just as the tension building within her began to peak. “Take slower, deeper breaths.”

She sucked in a deeper breath, but slower was much harder. She was already so close to the brink she could feel the hot desert wind of oblivion blowing in her face, tempting her to throw her arms wide and fly.

But this wasn’t about pleasure, this was about control and she was determined to show him she had as much will power as he had.

Fingernails digging into her palms she forced herself to blow out through her pursed lips for three seconds and then to sip air in through her nose for another three. But yoga breath only took her so far.

As soon as he resumed his wicked work—kissing and nibbling the quivering flesh on either side of her entrance, his attention to that usually neglected area making her even more sensitive when he brought his tongue back to her clit—she was quickly back at the razor edge between anticipation and satisfaction, fighting the orgasm she’d usually be reaching for with both hands.

“Pinch your nipples hard enough to hurt,” Jackson ordered, his fingers replacing his tongue, thrusting in and out of her pussy, daring her to come. “Then concentrate on the pain. Concentrate on the pain and fight your way back from the edge until I tell you to let go.”

“Yes, sir,” she said, her words ending in a ragged gasp for breath as his mouth covered her sex and he sucked all of her into his mouth.

It was a foreign feeling, but an insanely hot one. She pinched her nipples so hard the sting made her jaw clench, but she still wasn’t certain she’d be able to hold back for long. He was too good, too intense, so skilled at bringing a woman pleasure she could have come half a dozen times if he’d allowed it.

“Please,” she begged, panting as she fought to keep from shattering. But it was so hard to resist succumbing to the deep rhythmic pulls as he suckled her clit into his wet heat even as his tongue undulated inside of her.

“Please, please, please.” Her begging became a chant, a prayer for mercy he ignored until she was moaning and writhing on the floor, so close to the edge she felt like she was losing her mind.

Only when she was wild for him, teeth bared in a grimace and nipples bruised from her own abuse did he pull away from her pussy and order in a deep, resonant voice that rippled through her like the first seismic tremor of an earthquake. “Come, princess.”

Instantly, she did. She came so hard she literally saw stars, holes in the night that flashed and blinked behind her closed eyes. She came like desert grass meeting a match, like a boulder crashing down a mountain flattening everything in its path. She came screaming and bucking into his mouth and clawing her fingers into the ground because she needed something to hold on to, something to keep her connected to the physical world as she was leveled by the most intense orgasm of her life.

It was epic, beautiful, and so damned intense she knew she’d been ruined for anything less than this highest of highs, the dizzying pinnacle of pleasure on the mountaintops above the clouds, a place she hadn’t realized existed until Jackson had taken her there.

It took what felt like forever for her pleasure to be done with her. By the time she finally lay sated on the ground, catching her breath as she stared up at the slowly whirling ceiling fan and her overheated skin cooled, Jackson was on his back beside her.

“That was…” She shook her head, at a loss for words, but feeling like she had to try. “Revolutionary.”

Jackson grunted, an amused sound that made her think she’d pleased him. “And the longer you wait, the better it gets.”

Hannah’s breath rushed out. “I can’t imagine anything better.”

“You don’t have to,” he said, his fingertips brushing hers. “I’ve got enough imagination for the both of us.”

Hannah kept her gaze on the ceiling, resisting the urge to turn to look at the man beside her. If she kept her gaze on the spinning fan and the underside of the thickly thatched roof, she could pretend that this was a tender moment with a captivating new lover, not a cease fire in some kind of twisted, erotic war.

As long as she didn’t turn to see the darkness in Jackson’s eyes, she could look forward to his feats of imagination, instead of fearing him the way she should. It wasn’t healthy or sane, but pretending kept her from falling apart when Jackson stood and left the room a few minutes later, without so much as a goodbye.

But then goodbyes were for people, not prisoners, and she had a feeling a lapse in manners would be far from the worst thing that happened to her while she was under Jackson’s control.

CHAPTER NINE

Hannah

Hannah spent the rest of the next day alone in her room, trying to recover from the most intense sexual encounter of her life.

She paced from one side of the large space to another without remembering how she got from Point A to Point B. She stood staring out at the fruit trees, mesmerized by the scenes of the night before playing out in her head, and came back to herself to realize she’d lost over an hour and Eva was already setting her dinner tray down on the glass coffee table beside her.

If it weren’t for the ache between her legs and the way her ass throbbed every time she sat down, it would have been easy to dismiss the entire encounter as a dream. Surely no man could make a woman feel the way Jackson had made her feel, especially not a woman he hated, whose mind he was determined to dismantle piece by piece.

But the more clues she gathered about the past, the easier it became to understand why he hungered for revenge.

She couldn’t stop thinking about the things he’d let slip last night—about the police not being able to spot a real victim and the bruises Harley had faked—and piecing together how those things could combine to make a man so angry he would dedicate his life to tracking down the woman who had wronged him. Taking into account what she knew about her twin, it didn’t take much imagination to guess that Harley had framed Jackson.

Framed him for something awful.

The bruises could have been part of an assault charge, but Hannah’s gut said that wouldn’t have been enough for Harley. When Harley wanted to punish someone, she went for the jugular. She wanted her vengeance to hurt and to keep hurting for as long as possible.