Shockwave (Impulse Book 1) Read online

  She looked over her shoulder, waiting for his order.

  “Walk,” he said. “This time.”

  She didn’t walk, she sashayed, exaggerating the sway of her hips.

  He whistled.

  She grinned as if an oppressive weight had been lifted. She appreciated the levity. “I’m afraid I will need to borrow a brush, Sir. Otherwise I’ll never be able to work with my hair again.”

  “Pull out that chair and have a seat.”

  She knew better than to argue.

  In less than a minute, he returned with a brush and began to work on her hair, starting from the bottom as she would have.

  Master Nathaniel perplexed her. He was kind and gentle at times, but always uncompromising.

  He said nothing as he worked out the tangles.

  This was a unique experience. This powerful man, more than six feet tall, capable of handling himself and a weapon in a terrorist-filled country, was brushing her hair with a diligence that spoke of meditation. Those traits made him good at everything he did, she suspected. And they also, at times, infuriated her.

  She surrendered to the sensations of being cared for. When panic gnawed at the edges of her consciousness, she reminded herself it was temporary and that she’d soon return to a regular life.

  “How’s that?”

  She fed her fingers into her hair. “Perfect, Sir.” He’d been as conscientious as she would have been. “Do you have a rubber band or something that I can use to hold the ends? I generally braid it if I go to bed with it still a bit wet.”

  “Let me find something.”

  He left the room, and she braided her hair.

  “Will this work?” He showed her a thin strand of brown leather.

  Figures. What else would a Dom use? “Thank you,” she said as he tied it around the end of her braid.

  “I was wondering if I’d have to use this brush on your tight ass.”

  She wondered if she had any sense of self-preservation as she said, “In that case, I shouldn’t have used my manners.”

  Before she could think or react, he was sitting in the chair, and he had her upended over his knee, one arm firmly around her so she couldn’t get away. He grabbed the brush.

  “Ten, because you asked so nicely.”

  Damn, he understood her.

  He landed the first stroke across both of her ass cheeks. She yelped. “One, Sir. Thank you!”

  He spanked her hard and fast.

  This was one of the most overwhelming things she’d ever experienced.

  She couldn’t thank him fast enough, through her gasps and yelps.

  His ten became fifteen, then twenty.

  She kicked and flailed. But he was bigger, stronger. He kept her in place, even when she tried to shove away from him.

  The beating was punishment, but it wasn’t debilitating. He was making a point, and he was turning her on. The fight, the struggle, was primal and raw, and his cock had hardened.

  “Thank you.” Her gratitude was for so many things, not just the spanking.

  “Say it again.”

  “Yes. Yes… Thank you, thank you.” She repeated the words over and over, in a seductive loop.

  “That’s my girl. My sub.”

  Though she knew his words were part of the scene and that they meant nothing outside of this time and place, they still thrilled her. They had a powerful effect on her senses, giving her strength and endurance.

  Master Nathaniel lengthened the amount of time between strokes, allowing her time to catch her breath, to be mesmerized by the eroticism. Her ass was on fire, but her pussy was dripping.

  “You love this.”

  “I do.”

  He gave her another spank.

  Yes.

  And again. She whispered her gratitude.

  Another, blazing trails of fire.

  “Thank you.” How long it went on, she had no idea. She only knew her blood pounded, tears stung her eyes, her hair had come loose from the leather thong, her pussy throbbed and she was desperate for this to never end.

  Her gasps of appreciation became a single, blurred word with no beginning and no end.

  Unbelievably, even without him touching her clit or fingering her ass, an orgasm began to build, just from his words, his actions, the sting.

  Across his lap, his erection against her, her body began to stiffen.

  “Are you going to come, Alani? Like a perfect little submissive?”

  She couldn’t think, was no longer capable of forming a coherent sentence. “Sir…” She wasn’t sure what she wanted, what she was pleading for.

  “You’re going to come for me? Without me touching your pussy or clit?”

  But she was. His words aroused her. His beating completed her.

  “Come, then,” he said.

  He moved his hits a bit lower, closer to her thighs. The sensations were sharper there.

  She arched her back.

  He increased the ferocity of his strikes.

  She kicked, screamed, clamped her legs together. The small amount of friction was enough. An orgasm engulfed her.

  Hot and sexy.

  She was undone, overwhelmed. He’d shattered her. He moved her, pulling her into his arms, holding her, stroking her hair while she sobbed into his shoulder.

  “You’re wonderful, Alani. Such a good sub,” he told her, reassuring her.

  He rocked her as if she was precious to him.

  “Thank you, thank you, Sir,” she said minutes later, after she regained her composure.

  As always, he took control.

  He carried her to the bed. How he managed it, she wasn’t sure, but he pulled back the bedspread and sheets while he was still holding her. He tossed aside a few pillows and placed her face down on the surface. She sank into a fluffy pillow. For a warrior, he liked creature comforts.

  “Don’t move,” he instructed.

  “I couldn’t if I wanted to.”

  A moment later, he pressed something cool and soothing against her heated flanks. “Sir?”

  “A compress,” he said. “Your ass is red and hot.”

  “I don’t mind, Sir.”

  “I want you healed for the beatings you’re sure to earn tomorrow.”

  She stiffened her body.

  “And those the day after.”

  “God,” she said into the pillow.

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said, yes, Sir.”

  “That’s what I thought.”

  He patted her blazing butt cheeks with a dry towel. “I’m rubbing some arnica on your skin to help prevent bruising.”

  He massaged some cream onto her welts.

  “Mmm. That’s nice of you. Thank you.”

  “Self-serving.”

  She sucked in a breath when he worked one particularly sore spot.

  After he was done, he rebraided and retied her hair then turned off the lights.

  Nerves skittered into her stomach. The idea of sharing his bed, sleeping with him, waking up next to him was beyond intimate.

  He—whatever was going on here—was moving faster than she was comfortable with.

  He climbed into bed and moved next to her. Without a word, he turned her on her side and drew her close to him. His half-hard cock pressed between her buttocks. He pulled up the sheet and covered them before pinning her to the mattress with his arm.

  He’d created a cozy little cocoon so inviting that she was terrified. Rigid, she lay there, staring at nothing.

  “Give up the fight,” he told her.

  “I…”

  “Relax, Alani. We have a lot to discuss in the morning.”

  Of course they did. He wanted to talk more than any man she’d ever met. It was not one of his more appealing traits.

  His breathing evened out.

  How could anyone fall asleep so fast? Maybe his experience in a war zone? Or maybe because he was in his own bed? She made at least six thousand position changes. At times, she was prepared to make s
acrifices to the sleep gods.

  After several minutes, her eyes adjusted to the dark. She made out the shapes and patterns. Under the best of circumstances, sleep eluded her.

  His arm grew heavier, suffocating her. She had to get out of the bed. Maybe watch television, flip through a magazine, anything to escape.

  He snored gently.

  Determined not to disturb him, she lifted his arm.

  “Stay there, little one.”

  Jesus. He went from the deepest of sleeps to talking? How the hell did he do that? “I need to use the restroom.”

  “Fine. I’ll go with you.”

  She knew better than to challenge him. He’d follow her, stand there with his arms folded across his chest and wait.

  “As I thought. You lied.” He pulled her tighter. “You spend too much time thinking.”

  She’d hoped the sex and the discipline would help her sleep. Most times, they did. This time, though, they’d left her on edge, keyed up.

  “Sleep.” He wrapped both arms around her and held her securely. “Match my breathing pattern. If you breathe as if you’re asleep, your brain will shut down.”

  “You’re a New Age guru in addition to everything else?”

  “I sleep when I get the opportunity,” he said. “Be it noon or midnight. There are tricks. Surrender, Alani. I want it on all levels, but I’ll settle for this moment. Let go. Trust me. I’ve got you, and you’re safe.”

  She couldn’t. Not for any man, and he was far more dangerous than any she’d ever been with.

  “Try. We’ll get you through the night. You can reevaluate in the morning. Your concerns will still be there. Lay them down for tonight. You can pick them back up tomorrow.” He drew a couple of deep breaths.

  She kept her spine straight.

  “I’m not flexible, Alani.” His words were a growled warning, and she knew he was done with his attempt at coaxing her.

  She closed her eyes and forced her body to relax.

  He kissed her on top of her head.

  She opened her eyes wide. This was the kind of tenderness that might be her emotional undoing. She hated being vulnerable and wished she were at home…anywhere but in his house, his bed, his arms.

  He drank in another deep breath and eased her a little closer. The entire evening, beginning with his public spanking and ending with the kiss, had taken the situation from uncomfortable to intolerable. Yet, unable to continue the fight unless she wanted all-out war with him tonight, she surrendered.

  He didn’t have permanent relationships, and she’d told him earlier that she didn’t want anything long-term. Besides, first thing in the morning, she could ask to leave. She’d be back in control. She’d have him where she wanted him. That had to be enough.

  She moved around just a bit, trying to get comfortable. It wasn’t easy with two hundred pounds of determined male trapping her.

  Even though she was convinced it wouldn’t work, she matched his breathing.

  “That’s better,” he told her.

  She’d had no idea he was still awake, offering silent comfort and physical security while she wrestled with her demons.

  Alani closed her eyes and knew nothing until the next morning, when his cock sought entrance to her already-damp pussy.

  Chapter Eight

  Nathaniel often woke with a hard-on. But ninety-nine percent of the time, he was alone. This time, there was a gorgeous woman in his bed, her curvy behind pressed against his pelvis.

  Her softness, her suppleness, her wet pussy all coalesced into a silent invitation.

  He’d rolled to one side then donned a condom and started stroking her between the legs.

  She’d mumbled something incoherent and turned toward him.

  He knew last night had been difficult for her. She’d made no secret of the fact she didn’t want a committed relationship, yet he’d pushed her emotionally as well as physically.

  When he’d climbed into bed with her, her body had been stiff. He could tell it had taken everything she had not to flee. Her reaction had seemed a little strange after everything they’d shared. Every other sub he’d been with had wanted a connection after those kinds of scenes. He’d forced her to accept his aftercare. “Tell me you want it.”

  “Fuck me,” she said. “Fuck me hard and fast.”

  Testosterone bubbled in his bloodstream.

  He had more trouble controlling his reactions around her than he’d ever had with any other woman. The way she fought him—the way she fought herself—aroused him. Being her Dom was a challenge, one he responded viscerally to.

  Desperate to possess her, he turned her onto her back, nudged her legs apart with his knee, then grabbed her wrists and pinned her arms above her head.

  Her chest rose and fell. Her nipples hardened.

  Her liquid brown eyes were wide and unblinking. He’d done a terrible job of securing her hair, and it hung in wild disarray around her shoulders.

  His woman. His. She brought out his inner caveman. He took her in a single, possessive stroke.

  He wanted her this way.

  He’d bet she preferred to be taken from the rear where he could slap her ass, pull her hair, and where she didn’t have to look at him.

  But he wanted her full participation. He wanted her to look at him. He wanted to watch her reactions. He wanted her to know he was mastering her. And he wanted her to acknowledge it. “Keep your eyes open,” he instructed.

  He pulled all the way out and drove straight back in.

  Damn, she was tight. And wet. And ready.

  In so many ways, they were alike.

  Both of them wanted this fierce joining, and neither wanted anything more than a quick, noncommittal scene.

  Unfortunately for him, and for her, he was realizing he wasn’t capable of giving her the no-strings sex and beatings she wanted.

  He wanted more from her. He wanted to possess her. He needed her to acknowledge he was her master, as he was acknowledging his need for her. “I want your legs over my shoulders.”

  “Yes, Sir.”

  Even when he released her wrists, she kept them in place. Good little sub. He withdrew his cock and knelt while she raised her legs onto his shoulders. Then he pressed his thumb against her clit and savored her moan before moving between her legs.

  She gasped when he entered her, deeper than he ever had.

  He secured her wrists with one hand and balanced some of his weight on one elbow so as not to crush her as he pulled out.

  The next time he entered her, it was with a shallow stroke.

  “Deeper. I want you deeper, Sir.”

  Damn. “Submissive. You’re supposed to be a submissive.”

  “This is as submissive as I get.” She lifted her hips. “I want you to fuck me.”

  “And I want to make love to you.”

  She went rigid.

  “Don’t fight. You can’t win. Enjoy. No struggle. Just us. A joining.” He slid into her, and her eyes went wide. “Relax.”

  After a few strokes, she exhaled and responded to his rhythm with a soft sensuality that worked her into his heart.

  When they were in bed, she was more real than at any other time.

  Her breathing became uneven and her pussy clenched him. He couldn’t believe how responsive she was, or how much he liked it.

  For a while, he continued his leisurely strokes, watching her respond, her facial features relaxing.

  He stroked her eyebrows then kissed her forehead.

  “That has to take some serious ab strength, Sir.”

  “You’re my new workout.”

  She grinned, then, as he drove in deeper, she caught her lower lip between her teeth and whimpered.

  “Come anytime you’re ready, Alani.” He was close himself. Though he was disciplined enough to last a long time, if he wanted.

  Moments later, her internal muscles clamped down, milking him.

  How hot was it that she’d been waiting for his permission?

&
nbsp; Lost in her liquid heat, he ejaculated, filling the condom.

  He kept her prisoner for long seconds, their gazes locked in silent communication. She might not admit that they belonged together, but she had to realize it the same way he did.

  Satisfied with that knowledge, he rolled off her. Rather than letting her go, he tucked her against him and pulled the covers over her shoulders.

  Replete, they dozed for a few minutes before she squirmed away from him.

  “I’ll make breakfast.”

  “And coffee?” she asked.

  Her eyes were wide and her voice was pleading. Even if there hadn’t been coffee in the pantry, he’d have run to the grocery store. “And coffee.”

  “You don’t want me to make the breakfast, Sir?”

  “It’s my specialty. Relax for a bit. When you come into the kitchen, I’ll have your coffee ready.”

  “You’re going to spoil me.”

  “Part of my nefarious plan.” He dressed in a pair of jeans and nothing else.

  In the cheval mirror, he glimpsed her reflection. He liked the way she looked, tousled and naked in his bed.

  She turned onto her side and propped her head on her hand. She was watching him. Her black hair hung in glorious disarray. The cool air kept her nipples hard. Her breasts were full, inviting.

  Even though he’d already fucked her, he was getting aroused again.

  “Sir…?”

  He faced her.

  “May I wear a T-shirt or something?”

  He shook his head. “I’ll turn up the heat a few degrees.”

  “Ah… Thank you, Sir.”

  He went into the kitchen. First things first. He brewed a pot of coffee before tossing half a pound of bacon into a pan. With the plans he had for the horny sub in his bed, they’d both need protein.

  He cracked a few eggs into a bowl and whisked them before popping a couple of pieces of bread into the toaster.

  Nathaniel couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a woman stay overnight. He preferred to use their homes or a hotel. His place was his—private. Besides, he didn’t much care for the morning after. Oftentimes subs wanted to talk about making things more serious. It was easier to avoid the conversation in the first place.

  But with her…

  As he poured enough eggs for two into a sizzling pan, he wondered what color leather would look best fastened around her delicate throat.