Switch Master: 6 (Ink and Kink) (11 page)

“Grab the counter,” he ground out harshly. Sam obeyed.

Despite his urgency, his hands slipped around her back,
unclasped the bra and slipped it off with utmost care. His eyes intent upon her
breasts, he weighed them in his big, callous-roughened hands. His thumbs swiped
her taut nipples, stirring a flutter of butterflies to life in her tummy.

“Your breasts are beautiful. Why are you hiding them with
that kind of bra?”

“They’re big. I need a bra with underwire to keep them in
check.”

Trying not to look down at his nakedness, she lost the
battle and took a peek. His cock was hard and poking out from the nest of curls
on his groin. He was the epitome of male beauty, virility and sin.

“Maybe I’ll get a reduction or something if they start
sagging to my belly,” she suggested.

“You don’t change a thing about yourself without my say.”

“Including my hair color?” she asked, concerned he might
object. She liked being blonde.

“If you want to work out, get tattoos or piercings or dye
your hair purple, that’s fine. Plastic surgery is not an option. We clear?”

“Yes,” she said, understanding that he meant it.

“There are lingerie stores that make bras that would fit you
beautifully, baby doll. I’ll get you boatloads of them. Panties too, whatever
you want.”

“You’d buy clothes for me?” No man had done that for her
before.

“If you promise not to doubt that I find you delectable,
yes.”

“I feel beautiful when I’m with you.”

“You are. Don’t doubt it, Samantha. Now I’m gonna fuck you.”

In the matter of seconds, he moved close enough to part her
thighs wide with his hips. He kissed her, pushing his tongue into her mouth
real deep even as she felt him pull her hips toward him.

“Don’t let me fall,” she grumbled against his lips when he
pulled her so far forward she thought she might teeter over.

“Got you,” he promised, whispering it again as he moved in
closer still. The thick stalk of his cock parted her vaginal lips, pushing
inward slowly, giving her body a moment to adjust.

“Take me, Taran,” she uttered, desperately needing him to
complete her.

“You’re wet and tight, made for me. Can’t resist you another
second,” he said, thrusting home. For a brief second, the suddenness of his
taking caused her to stay very still.

It hadn’t hurt, yet it’d been so long since she’d had a man,
much less one as endowed as Taran, she needed time to absorb what was
happening. She felt claimed, utterly and forever changed.

“Oh my god, you feel amazing,” she murmured.

Wanting to be as close to him as possible, she wrapped her
arms behind his neck and hooked her legs around his thighs, letting him set the
pace as he took her, hard, fast, relentlessly and wonderfully deep.

“Mine now,” he stated, drawing back only to penetrate her so
slowly this time she became aware of his thickness and length. He was in deep,
so deep she momentarily feared he’d slam too hard against her cervix.

But Taran had already gauged her needs and gently thrust
without causing her a bit of discomfort, making certain she felt everything
from the smoothness of his cock head to the rigid veins of his shaft.

“Sonofa…you feel incredible, doll.” At some point, he picked
her up off the counter and fucked her while he was standing. “Just hang on
tight and let me fuck you.”

“Feels better than anything I’ve ever known. Better than my
dreams,” she admitted when he clamped his arms at her waist and held her still.

Whoa, he had this clever way of rocking and rolling his hips
so that she’d feel every bit of his cock. He filled her, thrilled her, making
her claw at his shoulders and squeeze her inner thighs in an attempt to keep
him deep inside her pussy.

It was extremely rare for her to orgasm from intercourse
alone. With Taran, the need to come coalesced within her, pushing her closer to
that elusive pleasure.

Suddenly, he kissed her lips and stopped!

“No! No, don’t stop. Taran, please don’t stop,” she begged,
shocked that she’d done so but meaning it nonetheless.

Shifting her a little, he eased her back down on the
counter. The hard surface felt distinctly chillier than before.

“Baby, I’m not stopping, I need a condom. It’ll take a
second to get one from my wallet,” he explained, drawing back as if he’d pull
out.

“You don’t need one with me.” Having to be honest with him,
and risking the possibility that their first time might end right here and now,
Sam lowered her arms and legs. “I’m clean and I can’t get pregnant, Taran.”

He blinked as her words took root. “What do you need,
Samantha? Whatever it is, fertility treatments, tests to find out why, anything,
I’ll be there for you.”

“I had a late-term miscarriage and emergency partial
hysterectomy shortly after my seventeenth birthday. I should have told you
sooner. I’m sorry. If this changes everything for us, I’ll go home.”

Unbidden tears escaped the corners of her eyes, blurring her
vision. Taran stood there, his cock still deep inside of her.

“I’m so sorry for your loss, Samantha. But you are home,” he
whispered, bowing his head until their foreheads touched.

“I still should have told you sooner. This is a big weight
to drop on your shoulders and a really awful time to tell you.”

Taran eased back, cupping her face, gazing down at her a
moment before lowering his head and kissing away her tears.

“Don’t cry, doll. It’ll be all right. We’ll be all right.” Once
her tears were dried, he startled her by picking her up, wrapping her tightly
up against him with his strong arms.

“What are you doing, Taran?”

“Getting the two of us more comfortable,” he answered
against her cheek.

“Don’t step on the broken cup,” she warned.

“Won’t,” he said, kissing her even as he pulled out of her
in order to tread backward at a pace that kept her from figuring out exactly
where they were going.

Taran took her into a sitting room on the first floor,
throwing an elbow at the light switch by the doorway. The room was decorated
with a sofa, chaise, a small flat-screen TV, a coffee table and an old lounge
chair.

Sam barely had a chance to look around before Taran
carefully lowered her down on the sofa. It was a big, cozy sofa, one she
imagined he’d nap on if he had the chance.

“Why the change of venue?” she asked.

“I’m going to do this right, Samantha.”

“Kind of liked the kitchen,” she admitted, though she loved
how he’d become so protective and gentle.

“We’ll do it there again.” He lay down on top of her,
stretching himself out, reminding her of a giant cat. Once there, he kissed
her, just that, a kiss that was sweet and simple and oh so nice.

“Does this mean no more D/s stuff?”

“Nothing’s changed for us, Samantha, nothing. I simply
wanted more space to fuck you properly.”

With that, he kissed her again, silencing anything she might
have said with his tongue. Relaxing beneath his heavy but not overwhelming
weight, she curled her arms up and around him to stroke his hair with her
hands.

The strands were satiny soft and long enough to tangle her
fingers into. If she pulled the way he’d pulled her hair at the kitchen door,
would he like it? She tightened her grip and tugged enough to jerk his head
back.

Taran reared back momentarily, the heat of his eyes sliced
into her, revealing that he liked when she added a little bit of pain to his
pleasure. She tugged again to keep his attention.

“Taran, I’m not going to break if you get rough with me.”

“You want rough?”

“I can take whatever you got, pretty boy,” she assured.

He smiled wickedly. “I’ve got a big cock to fuck you with.
Better be careful what you wish for.”

“It doesn’t always happen for me, you know?”

“What doesn’t?”

“Orgasm,” she answered. “When we were in the kitchen, I was
very close. That’s why I’d panicked.”

“You don’t need to explain yourself. Let’s see what we can
do to make sure you come with me now and every time. Only thing is, this time,
you wait for my command. Okay?”

“Okay,” she agreed.

“That’s my baby doll,” he praised, thrilling her.

Taran got busy kissing her again, all over her face and
neck. Honing in on the mark that was still warm and tingly on her throat, he
lapped at it then nibbled his way up to her earlobe.

Having no idea until just now that the area around her ear
was an erogenous zone, she moaned and groaned. He feasted, eventually working
his way back down her throat, leaving a hot, damp trail of love bites.

He rubbed his chest against hers as he moved, the lightly
hair-roughened texture of his skin felt extra nice upon her taut nipples. She
purred, curling herself upward to seek more of the rubbing.

She tugged on his hair to give him a little push toward her
breasts, and he got the message. Bracing his arms on either side of her, he
bowed his back, steadily descending, kissing each nipple in turn.

“Yes, Taran,” she muttered.

“More?”

“Please.”

“Please, Master.”

“Please, Master, more,” she repeated, aroused by learning
what a Dom needed to hear from his submissive.

Taran lowered his head, taking her left nipple between his
teeth and biting down. In an instant, heat spread through her whole being.

Crying out to encourage him, she freed his hair to grasp his
shoulders for better purchase. He bit her again, alternating between biting and
sucking so strongly she bowed her back simply to drive herself up at him.

Just when she thought he’d feasted for hours, he freed her
nipple with a little pop, the rush of pleasure intense, hot, taking her by
storm.

“Master Taran, don’t stop.”

“Not,” he grumbled, shifting attention to her right breast.

This time he nibbled all over her rounded flesh, leaving no
part unloved in his pursuit of the tender underside reddened from the constant
use of an industrial-strength underwire bra meant to flatten and control her
generous curves.

“I can’t wait to see you in a bustier or corset, black ones,
I think,” he said between kissing and licking at her skin.

“I like red and black leather,” she admitted.

“Then you’ll have it,” he stated, kissing his way up the
swell of her breast to draw her nipple into his mouth. Instead of biting down,
he sucked her whole areola into his mouth. Sam growled and arched her hips,
seeking his elusive cock.

“Why won’t you take me again?” she asked. He freed her
breast, nipping her erect nipple with the edge of his teeth.

“Some things can’t be rushed,” he said, blowing hot breath
all over her sensitive flesh.

Planting a kiss on her sweetly aching nipple, he began
biting his way from her breast to her the sensitive strip of flesh between her
hip and thigh. Thankfully, the sofa was big enough to accommodate his seductive
crawl down her body.

He halted. Sitting up, he grasped her legs and pushed them
up toward her body.

“Hold your knees and spread yourself open for me, real
wide,” he insisted.

Hooking her hands at the backs of her knees, she spread her
legs. Feeling much more exposed and vulnerable, she froze. When she’d been on
the counter, he’d have known she had a nest of soft pubic hair when he spread
her open and entered her, but he wouldn’t have seen the surgical scar beneath
her bellybutton.

Now she was sure he did. He stilled, his body vibrating with
tension.

“If you don’t like the scar, I’ll try using cream or
something that’ll help it fade more.”

“You’re gorgeous head to toe,” he declared, shifting so that
he could press kisses all along the two-inch scar.

“If you’d prefer my mons to be bare, don’t go down on me.
I’ll understand.”

“I’ll shave you or we’ll arrange for a waxing sometime. Not
now.”

Taran made a feline sound in his throat that was something between
a cat’s purr and a lion’s roar. His eyes remained on her pussy, studying her as
if she were as precious as a painting.

“Don’t be shy, doll. Relax and open up for me.”

“You’re sweet, but…”

“Shush, I’m going to eat up the sweetest cunt I’ve ever seen
in my life.” He made that roaring-purr sound again, crouched himself onto the
couch between her thighs and touched her muff.

Spreading herself open even wider, she gave in to him.
Pushing his finger deep into her sheath, he used his other hand to spread open
her vaginal lips.

Still fingering her, he lowered his face to her pussy. Ever
so gently, he licked at her clitoris, sending shockwaves of delight through
her. His tongue was warm, insistent, luring her nubbin into his mouth and
sucking ever so gently.

“Ohmigod,” she cried out, her knees trembling, her whole
body shaking as he sucked, forcing her to rock her hips and chase an elusive
vibrating pleasure.

Unexpectedly, the need to come crested on a swell that
nearly crashed and she braced herself for orgasm, but somewhere in the back of
her mind she remembered she couldn’t come without his permission.

“Taran! I need to come.”

He stopped sucking. “That’s not how you ask.”

“Please, let me.”

“Please what? You need to be specific.” He purred now,
lowering his head back to where he’d been and flicking his tongue all around
her aching clit.

“Dammit, Taran, do it. Or I will!”

She tried to get him to obey her but budging Taran Maddox
from a mission wasn’t going to happen. He went gentle on her. He blew and
licked, tapping her clit with the edge of his canines, first one then the
other, his teasing designed to drive her maddeningly close to climax only to
deliberately drawing back to finger fuck her.

“In the past, who got you off? You or the man you were
with?”

“Is it normal to talk about other lovers while we’re having
sex? There weren’t many, Taran. I swear. Haven’t been with anyone since I made
detective and moved to missing persons in Boston.”

“You or the man you were with? Answer me.”

“Most often, I’ve touched myself or have my partner use a
vibrator or toy on me, especially after my surgery,” she answered, having to
learn how to climax again because she’d not felt particularly feminine or sexy
afterward.

“Then I was right. We’ll try this again. Ask nicely, doll, that’s
all you need to do and I’ll give you the release you need.”

Clever, clever man! Sam realized what he was doing. All her
life, she’d kept control of everything, work, play, sex and orgasms. Taran was
wresting that control from her.

“Do you understand why I’m demanding this from you,
Samantha?”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m glad you do.” He went back to his original
position between her thighs.

Rather than fingering her pussy, he kept her spread wide as
he pushed his tongue into her vaginal well, licking deep. Thrusting with his
tongue, he made her wetter than she’d ever been, and then he shifted and went
to work on her clitoris.

This time he gave her no mercy. He bit her tender flesh,
doing so with such skill he was able to avoid hurting her, eliciting only
shivers of delight. Arching into him and shouting as she neared orgasm, she
nearly bucked him off.

“Please, may I come for you, Master Taran?” She didn’t beg,
she asked nicely, feeling certain he’d gift her with the best orgasm of her
entire life.

“That’s it. You may,” he murmured a half second before
sucking on her clitoris, drawing her nearer.

Someone cried out. Realizing it was her, she went with the
flow, orgasm, strong and relentless, struck deep, setting her aflame. She’d
thought he’d relent as she came back down. Not Taran. He didn’t give up on
anything.

“Again, doll, come for me again,” he demanded. “You like it
rough, don’t you?”

“Yes,” she confessed. “Does that make me weird?”

“No, doll, it makes you perfect for me. I like sex the same
way, a little rough, a little kinky and a lot sexy.”

“Thank you,” she said.

“Thank me as you come again,” he ordered, licking her clit
and sending her right back to that precipice of need, taut and acute. He gently
bit down, pushed two fingers into her vagina, fucking her hard.

Incredibly, Sam came a second time, the pleasure cresting
and ebbing through her in sweet waves. Nothing had ever meant so much or felt
as good as this, nothing.

“Thank you, Master, thank you,” she uttered, losing track of
how often she praised him.

Only after she relaxed did he ease off and kiss his way back
up her body. She’d forgotten to hold on to her knees while he’d been pleasuring
her. She didn’t want to get in trouble and scrambled to catch them.

“I let go. Sorry,” she apologized.

“As long as you let go and enjoy sex with me, I’m pleased
with you. Never again will you have to worry about getting yourself off or
relying on a toy to orgasm.”

“Thank you for such a gift.”

Taran grinned, catching her legs and bringing them up and
around his hips. Loving the way he settled in between her thighs, she cooed and
gripped his shoulders. Propping himself up some with his arms, he looked down
at her.

“Hi, baby doll, can I make love to you?”

“Yes, I want that very much,” she answered, adjusting her
hips a bit.

“Not stopping this time,” he told her right as she felt his
smooth-as-satin cock head entering her, thrusting deep and holding still.
“Mine. Now. Always.”

“Same goes for you, pretty boy,” she whispered, staking her
own claim as Taran unleashed his inner bad boy.

He was not gentle. She didn’t want him to be. Taran Maddox
wasn’t known for gentleness. He was raw, edgy and maddening at times, but she
was quickly coming to realize that he meant everything to her.

She especially loved the way he bit at her throat to keep
her submissive to him as he thrust into her with the force of a runaway freight
train. Everything he gave her, he gave mercilessly, without fail, revealing his
skill as a lover who’d never let her down.

Thrusting deep and holding still, he tried to turn the two
of them to their sides, but somehow causing them to tip off the sofa and crash
to the floor. Sam laughed at their predicament, feeling more than a little
giddy.

“Damn, sorry,” he grunted, not missing a beat as he
separated from her long enough to flip over on his back. “Climb on top, doll.”

Sam straddled Taran, glad to have this moment to savor.
Holding herself up far enough to tease him, she slowly lowered down, gasping as
his cock filled her deeper than before.

Being on top gave her the power to control how she moved,
almost assuring that she’d orgasm. Amazingly, she didn’t think Taran minded
being on the bottom. He caught her waist, keeping her from thrusting or moving
much at all, as in control now as he’d been when he was on top of her.

“Got you,” he pronounced. “Just take it, take what I give
you.”

Sam had always felt awkward about her height and size. She
wasn’t overweight. She just wasn’t petite and by habit wore clothes that
diminished her curves and she didn’t want to crush him. Taran wasn’t daunted.
He lifted her up and pulled her back down with a strength that belied hers,
making her feel as delicate as a flower.

Orgasm built within her, stronger and different this time
because the angle of his penetration was more conducive to wringing the most
pleasure from her body. Every time he thrust balls-deep, she relished in
delight, the sounds of sex setting up a decadent cadence.

Taran pushed himself up off the floor, wrapping his arms
around her waist and kissing her mouth. Their new position allowed her to roll
and grind her hips in time with every powerfully deep thrust, putting more
pressure against her clit.