Shockwave (Impulse Book 1) Read online

  Master Nathaniel held her a bit too tightly, but she didn’t complain. After a scene, she normally forced herself to regain her composure as quickly as possible. Life had taught her to rely only on herself, so she did, even if that meant encasing her emotions in a shell.

  This time with him had been different for her, though. His calculated, thoughtful beating had gotten past her defenses. He’d given her what she wanted, even though she knew he preferred dominance to sadism. His scene had taken her to the very edge. She’d been able to let go, be vulnerable and, at the same time, safe.

  He’d demolished her.

  And now, in silence and snuggled into the circle of his arms, he was helping knit her back together.

  Like last night, she matched her breathing to his. Doubt, questions, apprehension…everything negative vanished. An unexpected peace surrounded her.

  She could have slept, but he didn’t let her.

  “Alani?”

  “Master Nathaniel?”

  He stroked her hair.

  She wanted to savor the sensation of having reached subspace, the incredible pain, the tremendous orgasm, but there was something sharp in his tone. His breathing had changed from relaxed to something shallower, as if he were on alert. “Sir?” she repeated, catching her breath.

  “We need to talk.”

  Again? How could reality crash into their perfect time?

  Chapter Ten

  Nathaniel turned her in his arms so that she was facing him. He wanted to be able to read her expression. Her head was pillowed in the crook of his arm and her hand curled against his chest. “That phone call,” he said. “It was my boss.”

  She frowned. “Master Braxton? Or AJ? But I thought you were partners.”

  “We are. Braxton, AJ and I are equal owners. It was a call from my other job.”

  “I see.” Her eyes were open wide and her mouth was slightly parted. As he watched, the frown became a scowl.

  She pretended to be tough but she wasn’t. She knew the call had changed something. He saw she wasn’t ready for that. And neither was he.

  What had happened between them was beyond anything he’d ever known. He’d seen she’d gotten lost in subspace. Despite the pain, in fact, from the pain, she’d slipped deep inside her own head. After the first few brutal hits, she’d barely responded to his flogging, except to sigh with pleasure and murmur her gratitude.

  Her body had been completely relaxed as a result of the endorphins flooding her system. He’d noticed her pussy get more and more wet. The scent of her arousal had made him hard, despite the fact he’d reamed her ass only minutes earlier. She’d cried for him, marring the bench with her tears. It had been as beautiful as he’d imagined.

  And more… During the scene, she’d called him Master.

  He realized the title wasn’t given lightly.

  At the club, she’d told him that any man, including a Dom, must earn her respect.

  Anytime he scened, he instructed the sub to call him Sir instead of Master. He didn’t want any confusion. To him, a Master had more power, a greater obligation to the sub’s well-being. It meant a dependency he hadn’t agreed to—a relationship, rather than a scene, and he hadn’t wanted the responsibility.

  But from Alani, the honorific was a gift he cherished.

  She might not remember saying it. He’d never forget she had.

  “I’ll be going overseas sooner than planned.”

  Her words slow and careful, she asked, “How soon?”

  With her soft, compact body pressed against him, his cock hardened. As a rule, his dick wasn’t this responsive. Great sex could keep him satisfied for a day, maybe more. But with her, a hard-on was nearly constant. “Within the week.”

  “I see.” Her tone was measured, calculated not to reveal emotion. But her unblinking eyes told a different story.

  “I will stay until Master Braxton returns from Mexico.” He held her tighter. “I’m not going to let you run, Alani.”

  “There doesn’t seem to be any purpose in prolonging our interlude.”

  “Alani, stop. You’ve always known I was leaving.”

  “Of course,” she said quickly, too quickly. “This changes nothing.”

  “Bullshit.”

  She blinked.

  “Bullshit,” he repeated. “I was there. I saw what happened to you. And I sure as hell know what happened to me. That kind of scene means something, and I’ll be damned if I’ll let you pretend it doesn’t.”

  “It was hot. But I can get hot anywhere, from any Dom at the club.”

  He refused to be goaded. “I call bullshit again. The entire issue you had at the club, the reason you got written up, was because you can’t get the physical pain to transcend the emotional crap you carry around.”

  “I’ve told you not to fucking psychoanalyze me, Sir.”

  Good thing she’d added the Sir. Good thing he knew she was reeling and not just being a bitch. “Your little act—”

  “It’s not an act. I don’t give a rip—”

  “Your fucking act might fly with most men and a lot of Doms. But I’m not any Dom.”

  She struggled to get away.

  He held her tighter. At no time was her power and strength a match for his. “Yield, sub.”

  “Not on your life, Sir.”

  He flipped her under him and trapped her wrists above her head. He pinned her slight body with his and his erection pressed into her.

  He’d kissed her but never like this. This time he assaulted her mouth. He demanded her tongue as well as her submission.

  She fought him, but he was determined.

  He wouldn’t let her dismiss him or what they’d done. He kissed her until she stopped fighting and sweetly surrendered. She arched toward him. Her pussy was hot and she parted her legs in silent invitation.

  He ended the kiss by slow, reluctant measures. This woman got to him on all levels. He doubted she’d ever be a stellar sub. She wore her independence like a hedgehog wore quills. “Admit it, Alani. That wasn’t just any scene we shared.”

  “It meant nothing.”

  “Goddamn it.” With her kiss, she’d lulled him into believing she agreed with him. And she was still spitting fire. Dishonest little bitch. “You honestly, honestly, want to walk away this morning and forget this ever happened? I can maybe hook up with you sometime in the future, unless you’re busy having a hot scene you can get anywhere?”

  “You have my number.”

  Fury slashed and burned through his chest. He’d never been tested like this. He wanted to paddle her senseless, continuing until she broke. He wanted her to admit the truth to herself as much as to him. He was aware of the pressure he had on her wrists and the way he was so close to pounding his rigid cock into her.

  Her brown eyes were moist with unshed tears. Whether it was from anger, frustration or her demons, he had no idea.

  But it was enough to jar him.

  He sucked in a jagged breath. He loosened his grip a fraction and grabbed hold of his raging libido. “Yeah, I do have your number, sub. Eight.”

  “Eight?” She blinked.

  “The number of spankings you’re going to get. I won’t tolerate your disrespect. And I won’t abide your lies.” He refused to beat her in anger, but at this point, he had no compunction about giving her a good butt warming.

  He moved quickly. He was sitting with her sprawled across his lap before she could voice a protest. “You’ll tell me the truth, Alani, or you won’t sit for a week.”

  “I told you the truth, beast!”

  “Your ass is still red from the horsehair, sub, so you should really appreciate this.” He slapped her hard with his open hand.

  She yelped.

  “The truth, Alani. The scene was more than you hoped.”

  “So what if you have a cool flogger, Sir? Anyone can drop a hundred bucks on one and send me into subspace with it.”

  Other Doms wouldn’t be so forgiving. He gritted his teeth and laid th
ree quick strokes to her reddened rear. “Brat.” He blistered her butt until she was thrashing on his lap. He clamped his arm around the waist, holding her captive. “The truth,” he reminded her.

  “That’s more than eight, Sir!” She tried to protect her butt, but he moved her hand aside.

  “I didn’t hear you count a single one or express your gratitude. We’ll begin counting when you follow directions.” He spanked her.

  “One. Thank you, Sir.” Her words were more snarl than anything.

  “Watch your tone.” He waited, either for her safe word or her fucking compliance.

  “One. Thank you, Sir.”

  He smacked her again on top of welts he’d created.

  “Two.” She grunted. “Thank you, Sir.”

  He continued his pace and waited between each.

  By the time he got to seven, her ass was full of welts and his hand hurt. She was just as stubborn as she’d always been. As soon as he got the chance, he was going online to order a spanking glove, and not a furry one—a leather one with raised studs.

  On the last one, laid with as much power as he could muster, she broke.

  “Eight, damn you, fuck you, thank you!”

  He pulled her on top of him, chest to chest, and dragged the covers up. He held her, soothed her.

  “No one…” She shuddered. “No one. Ever.”

  It wasn’t the amazing confession he’d hoped for, but it was enough. She hated the neediness as much as he did. So where the hell did that leave them? One thing he knew for sure, he wasn’t letting her go without a fight.

  She began to move against him.

  “Who’s the Dom?” he asked.

  “You are, Sir.”

  “Then who initiates the sex?”

  “You do, Sir.” She shifted so she could slide her damp pussy across his hard cock.

  “Who waits patiently for her Dom to decide to fuck her?”

  “I do, Sir.”

  She continued to rock her pelvis suggestively. The hard nub of her clit teased just beneath his cockhead.

  She buried her head in his shoulder and burrowed against his neck. This was not the type of behavior he expected from Alani, but he was quickly learning she rarely did what he anticipated. All the more reason that she needed to be retrained. “I should tie you to an unpadded chair so you feel the bruises from your punishment.”

  “Yes, Sir,” she said, brushing her lips across the side of his neck.

  “I should secure your ankles to the chair’s legs so I can keep your pretty pussy on display.”

  “Anything you say, Master Nathaniel.” She gently bit his shoulder. His cock surged against her clit.

  “I should shackle your hands so you can’t touch your hot cunt.”

  “I agree, Sir.”

  “I don’t allow you to top from the bottom, sub.” He rolled on a condom.

  “Of course not, Sir. You’re always in control.” She lifted her hips and took his cock deep inside.

  He knew what he should do to tame her, but his dick clearly had other ideas.

  She set the pace, lifting and lowering herself on his turgid penis. If this was the way she responded to a beating—soft, supple, feminine—he planned to beat her more often.

  A few minutes later, he’d taken all he could. He enjoyed her being in control…for a short while. If her moans were any guide, she liked it as well. He flipped her over onto her back and restored the natural order of things.

  At first, he entered and exited with slow strokes, feeling her muscles milk him. Then the urge to dominate clawed at him. He captured her wrists in one hand then braced himself on one elbow while he sank inside her. She was hot and welcoming. “Keep your arms above your head.” He released his grip so he could fondle her clit. “Come for me. For me, Alani. Your Dom.”

  She did. Again and again and again. He loved the sensation of her squeezing him. She drenched him with her juices.

  “Deep, Sir,” she said. “Fuck me deep.”

  He balanced his weight on his elbows, encircled her wrists and took her.

  With several shorter, jerky strokes, and after making sure she cried out one more orgasm, he ejaculated. He kept his cock in her rather than rolling to the side. He wanted to look at her, see her surrender. His woman. His sub.

  She studied him, her features inscrutable. “Hurry back from overseas.”

  “You’ll be waiting.” He made it a statement, not a question. He knew he had no right to make that demand but it didn’t stop him.

  “If you say so, Sir.”

  While he liked hearing the word “Sir”, especially in her sultry voice, he wanted to hear the word “Master” roll off her tongue again, willingly and with meaning. “I’m going to shower,” he told her. “You want to join me?”

  “I’ll take a long hot soak in the tub when I get home.”

  Reality had intruded far too quickly for his taste. He’d wanted time to get to know her better, to establish a relationship.

  He withdrew his spent cock.

  He kissed the top of her head, and he said nothing when she moved away from him and curled herself into a small ball in the center of the bed.

  She wasn’t in bed when he finished his shower. He found her in the dining room, sitting at the table, drinking a cup of coffee. When she saw him, she placed her mug on the table and slid gracefully from her chair to kneel on the floor.

  Damn, he could get accustomed to this.

  He wondered why the hell he hadn’t had a twenty-four-seven submissive relationship in the past. Having a beautiful woman so fully responsive to his demands was appealing.

  Alani was dressed in yoga pants and a soft shirt that snuggled her body. She looked sexy as hell.

  “Mind if I join you?”

  “I was waiting for you so I could tell you goodbye.”

  “You’re welcome to finish your drink before you leave.” He pulled out the carafe and drained it into a cup.

  “I was thinking about that call. Your job. Why do you do it? It’s dangerous, isn’t it?”

  Other women had asked the same question but not in the same way. She didn’t seem concerned or worried, more curious than anything. Unlike Jeanine, he’d be willing to bet Alani wouldn’t give him an ultimatum. Alani might dream of babies and a white picket fence, but he doubted it. Idiot that he was, he appreciated that, and it also annoyed him. What a fucking conundrum. “I was Army, and I did a couple of deployments in the Middle East. I wanted to do more, help more, focus more intently on training the forces, and see more action.”

  “Are you an adrenaline junkie?” Over the cup, she focused on his reaction. Her tone held nothing but curiosity.

  “Probably.” He shrugged.

  “So why did you get out?”

  “I prefer to make the rules, not follow them.”

  “That’s a surprise.”

  At the teasing tone in her words, he grinned. The shared moment bridged the distance that had seeped between them.

  Alani seemed to understand him. And more, appreciate him.

  In that moment, he realized how much she meant to him. Damn if he wasn’t tempted to stay with her. The realization startled him. A commitment was a commitment, and he’d honor it. But he looked forward to his return. For the first time, he had reason to come back. “When I decided to make a change, AJ introduced me to a private contractor who was recruiting.”

  “Master AJ?” She frowned. “I thought he was just a nerd who liked to spank women.”

  “He’s deeper than you might imagine. His computer skills are legendary, but he has many more talents.”

  Incredulous, she repeated, “Our Master AJ? There’s not some other guy named AJ that I don’t know about, right?”

  “The club’s website, all the IT for Limits. He helped Jaron install the security system.” He shrugged. “And has done so for others all over the world.”

  “How is it I’ve worked for you guys for two years without knowing any of this?”

 
“We’re all more complicated than we seem. You say you’re just a masochist who isn’t into submission. But you’re an eager sub for the right man, the right Master.”

  She licked her lower lip. She hadn’t missed his inflection. Good. He intended to let her think about it.

  “You’re a sub, Alani. When you admit it to yourself and to me, your life will be easier.”

  “You’re delusional, Sir.”

  “We’ll see.”

  She finished her coffee then slid the cup aside. “Thank you for a memorable evening and a great breakfast.”

  Alani picked up her coat.

  “May I?”

  She gave it to him, and he held it while she shrugged into it. Then she picked up her purse and bag.

  He walked her outside, took her keys and opened the vehicle for her. She reached inside with her belongings before accepting the hug he offered.

  She rested against his chest for a moment—not long enough—before shrugging away.

  What would it take for her to surrender to him? Lean on him, trust him, not just sexually but mentally, emotionally?

  He pinned her against the car’s frame, his right thigh thrust between her legs. He captured her chin with one hand and dug his other into her hair. He pulled back her head, exposing her throat, reminding them both of what he wanted from her.

  Capitulation.

  Complete and absolute capitulation.

  Her lips parted slightly in obvious surprise. Before she could ask any questions, he kissed her, long, hard, deep.

  She moved against his leg, humping him shamelessly. She tasted of morning and responsiveness, and the hunger borne of goodbye.

  She reached for his cock and stroked him through his jeans.

  From her motions, her moans that he swallowed, he knew she was close to another orgasm, so he ended the kiss, intentionally leaving her raw and hot.

  “Sir?”

  He released her, holding her waist until she retained her equilibrium. Part of him never wanted to let her go. But she had to come to him of her own volition. True submission was a gift. It couldn’t be demanded. It had to be given.

  He maneuvered them both so he could open her car door. Once she was seated inside, he asked, “I’ll see you at work on Tuesday? You’re off today and tomorrow, if I recall?”