Green Broke Woman (47 page)

Her eyes heated with lust as she undid his
fly. “I want to give you that. I don't care if you don't agree to a power
exchange when I'm done. I'll just cry about it later.”

Her words stabbed him in the chest. “Baby,
that's really depressing. Please don't cry.”

“I wouldn't if I had a Master Keith to
comfort me.”

His eyes narrowed on her in pretend
accusation. “You know exactly what you're doing, don't you, woman?”

“Not with this. You'll have to talk me
through it and be patient with me. I'm smart, though, and I'm a fast learner.”

He grinned and stood so she could push his
jeans and boxers down. “You're not applying for a job, Kayla.”

She smiled seductively and ran the head of
his cock between her fingers. “I also play well with others, and I'm good at
following orders.”

He growled deep in his chest and tilted her
head up with one hand while fisting his dick by the root with the other. “I
like the sound of that.”

She covered his stiff cock with
kisses, whispering his name and tender endearments all over his hot, pulsing
flesh.

Keith went breathless, absorbing
each sensation as she used different parts of her mouth on his glans and shaft.
He force-fed
her his
erection when he couldn't take it
anymore. She
laved
and suckled his penis with the
enthusiasm of a deeply devoted lover, making the act look more like worship
than a quick blow job.

He slowly worked his cock toward
the back of her throat, backing off whenever she gagged. He inched his pounding
dick gradually toward her throat, feeling her uvula tickle the tip.

“Just breathe, baby. Now let it
out. Good girl, Kayla. My good, sweet
sl
—
sub
.”

Slave felt natural; sub sounded
forced between them. She let him do this to her, though he'd promised her no
power exchange in return. She faced her fear ... for him. He should give her
something in return. He'd go down on her after this. She'd like that, though
deep down he knew she needed more from him. He needed more from her.

He massaged her scalp, steadily
feeding her his erection. His appendage slid with ease down her hot, slippery
throat. She positioned herself appropriately so her throat opened more, taking
his dick down her esophagus until his balls touched her lips.

She did it. His sweet, delicate
little bird had his cock all the way in her mouth and down her throat. His
erection basked in the unmatched glory of her slick, silky flesh encasing him
in unbelievable heat.

He murmured praises to her,
resting in the humid depths of her throat. She couldn't breathe right now. His
shaft ensured she must forsake the luxury of breathing to focus solely on
holding her Master's cock for safekeeping. Only when he eased carefully from
her throat and mouth was she able to take air into her lungs. Her eyes watered
profusely, and she coughed, taking in deep breaths. Her grateful smile at his
praise moved him.

“One more time and that's all for
tonight. I don't want to overdo it on your first time.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Sir?
No.
Master.
She'd called him that before, and it had sounded so perfect and right. He'd
called her
slave
by accident a few
times, and it had felt as natural to him as breathing. Why fight the
inevitable? Some part of him already knew somewhere in the back of his mind
that they would end up in a power exchange relationship together. He wasn't
perfect. Never would be, but could he forgive himself for his mistakes?

Kayla adored him, worshiped him.
What the hell for? What single good deed did he ever do to win the love of this
amazing woman?

She took him back in her throat,
holding him there, choking slightly when he started to move.

“Shh.
It's
okay, baby. Squeeze my hand if you want me to stop.”

She didn't squeeze his hand.

“Good girl. That's it. Keep
swallowing. I'll go easy on you. Just three little thrusts and I'll pull out.”

He advanced down her throat with
three glorious thrusts before backing off. His brave little Kayla took them
with a grace that touched his soul. As promised, he pulled out of her throat
and fucked her mouth until he flooded her with his powerful release. His baby
swallowed his load and sipped the residual cum from his slit, even licking the
length of his penis clean.

His unstable legs wanted his ass
to plant itself back on that bench for relief, but his wayward mouth had other
ideas. Once she pulled his jeans and underwear back up and closed his fly, he
yanked Kayla to her feet and then laid her down on the bench. The elated gasp
he startled from her upon impact was a major turn-on.

He had her shorts and panties
pulled off in a heartbeat and his face buried between her legs. She cried out
in unrestrained bliss, pushing into his hungry mouth and mewling softly like a
tiny sex kitten.

“Please. Keith, please. You're my
Master.” She panted and whimpered as he tongued her juicy clit harder and
faster.

He glanced up, heart clenching
when he recognized the distorted pain on her face. Her expression contorted
with pleasure as equally as it did a desperate ache from within. She was in
tears.

“You know you're my Master.
Please. I need you ... so bad it hurts. My heart hurts when you hate yourself.”
She tensed, shaking with pre-orgasmic flutters as her ecstatic moans turned to
pleading sobs of distress. “I love you so much it hurts. You were my first
kiss. Oh God, that feels so good. You were the first one I got a tattoo for.”

He slowed his tempo, smiling a
little at her frustrated whine. “You never did tell me what the other tattoos
stand for.”

“The dragon was for Master Hugh.
The flower was for Virgil, since he got me that kind on my birthday when we
were in California. Oh, Keith, my pussy aches so
bad
.
Please let me come.”

“Keep talking, sub.”

She groaned. “The Marilyn Monroe
tattoo I got because I've always admired her. She had some great quotes, and
she was so classy and sexy.”

“Like you.” He pressed a kiss
onto her moist pussy.

“Oh my God!”

Keith snickered. “Calm down,
baby. People are gonna think I'm torturing you.”

“You are. Oh God, you are. Let me
come, you magnificent bastard.”

He chuckled, enjoying her
strangled outcry when he swatted her cunt.
“Bad girl,
insulting your Dom.
Now tell me what the word on your collarbone means.”

“It's Latin for
His
. I got it for Travis because he was
my first love. The little black bird on my leg I got for you.”

“I know. I was with you the day
you got it.”

“I know. I was hoping the
sentiment would have you feeling generous.”

He grinned. “Now you're
manipulating me. See if I let you come.”

She whined and pressed his head down
as she crammed her pussy in his face. “Please.”

He pinned her arms down and
growled. Her soft, aroused moan made him hard again. He knew she was close to
losing control. Her hot, swollen folds were soaked with cream, and her body
trembled, muscles flexing and relaxing in a desperate struggle to obey him.

“I love the man you are.” She
sniffled, voice hushed and broken. “I don't know why you hate that man so much,
but I love him more than life, and I trust him more than anyone.”

His tongue froze, and his head
lifted to test her eyes for sweet lies. He found none there. Kayla meant what
she said. She trusted him more than anyone. More than her first Master, more
than her first love, more than her bad boy, and her white knight. She might
love them all equally, but for some reason she trusted him more. Her perfect
trust in him demanded that she be owned by him, just as his trust and
possessive love screamed at him to enslave her as well as marry her.

“You can order me to call you
Sir,
but my heart will never call you
anything but
Master,
” she whispered.

Keith's throat tightened as he
lowered his head and lapped vigorously at her engorged clit. To hold back now
would be a breach of trust. He'd be living a lie if he said he wanted her to
call him
Sir.

“Come for me, my sweet slave,” he
murmured against her tender flesh just before he licked her into orgasm.

“Thank you,” she sobbed, bucking
and crying out softly as she came for him.

Keith bathed her sensitive flesh
with his tongue until she was clean. He pulled Kayla onto his lap and held her
in his arms, rocking her back and forth gently with his eyes closed.

He'd thought he'd lost her
forever when she went to California and didn't come back for seven years. Now
she was back, but more importantly she'd agreed to be their wife ... and his
slave.

She kissed his neck and held him
close while he nuzzled her neck and breathed in the scent of her skin. No one
compared to her. He'd wanted a slave for years but had never owned one, hoping
Kayla would come back to him. He didn't want that bond with anyone else any
more than he wanted another woman as his wife, only her.

His spirit glowed with warmth.
Kayla was theirs, but more importantly she was his.

Epilogue

Jason Adkins answered his cell
phone when he saw his best friend, Armand, calling him. “What’s up?”

“Just checking in.
Any news?”

“Nah, not really.
Everybody’s on guard, watching
the women like hawks, and the cops are keeping vigil. That’s about it. Any sign
of Miranda down there?”

Please say yes.

God, he missed her.

Armand sighed on the other end. “Not
yet, I’m afraid. New Orleans is a big city, though. I’ve posted pictures of her
and that professor who was so obsessed with her, but so far…”

“What’s wrong?”

“I think that’s him.”

Jason jumped to his feet.
“You sure?”

It sounded like running on the
other end and the screeching rumble of a car peeling out.

“Armand, talk to me. What’s going
on?”

“Shit,” Armand muttered. More
running followed. “I think that was the professor. He just got into a car and
drove away.”

“Can you get the license plate?”

“There isn’t one. He’s speeding
up. He’s getting away!”

Jason pounded his fist against
the table. He grabbed his coat and headed out. “I’m coming down there to help
you look.”

Honking came from the other end
of the phone and a loud “What the hell, asshole? Get out of the way!”

It didn’t sound like Armand,
probably some indignant driver.

“Fuck. I lost him.”

“Don’t sweat it. We’ll find him
again. He’s probably hiding out in the city or on the outskirts.”

“Do you think she’s still alive?”
Armand asked.

Jason’s heart clenched. “She’s
alive.”

He refused to even allow the
possibility that she wasn’t. They would find her, and there would be hell to
pay for the bastard who’d abducted her.

The End

www.zoeymarcel.com

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