His Only Hope: The Maison Chronicles, Book 2 (9 page)

He pulled back and she groaned in frustration. “What, you want more of that?”

She flopped her head back to the bed. “Yes…” Her response trailed off into a gasp when Gabe swiped his tongue across her clit. Had she known what she’d been missing…

“What a pretty pussy.” He spread her lips and said, “Oh, that’s much better. Look at you,
cara
, your clit is swollen and begging for attention.”

The cool air dancing across her flesh, already damp from his tongue, threw a new sensation into the overwhelming mix.

His tongue danced across her lower lips, stroking from the bottom of her opening up to her clit, the little bundle of nerves shooting fireworks off in her brain when he nibbled it.

Keeping her arms against the mattress grew harder with every kiss of his lips. She shook as lightning arced across her limbs, starting from her core and zinging to every inch of her body.

“So…so close,” she moaned.

It had been too long. She had a momentary worry of the orgasm devouring her, driving her mad, shaking her apart, but Gabe pushed a long finger into her pussy and she forgot everything but the pounding need to come.

She inched closer and closer, the room and her past and her future fading into nothing but her and Gabe and this moment.

“Have you been a good girl, Hope?”

Good? Had she been good? Her lust-blurred senses sharpened and she tilted her head up to look at him. Her orgasm faded away like words carved into wet sand.

“No. I haven’t been good.” Her throat tightened as she thought about how she’d mistreated him. “I’m sorry, Gabe, for not trusting you.”

“Ah, baby.” He crawled up the bed to her side. “Hope, that’s not what I meant.”

She shook her head. “You were so good to me and I kept secrets, though part of me knew I should—wanted to—tell.”

His eyes darted away from hers and Hope wondered what part of her apology made him uncomfortable.

In the hazy dark of the room, with only the moon shining through the large window and skylight for illumination, Gabe kissed her with more tenderness and passion than she’d ever experienced. She tasted herself on his lips, tangy and fresh, the flavor dueling with Gabe’s own spicy taste.

It was a night for firsts, especially when he eased off the bed and stripped bare.

“No more games, no more teasing, just you and me, Hope. There’s time enough for play tomorrow. Now, I just need to feel you skin to skin, clenching around me.”

Her breath caught, his naked body and his naked intent so very male. He was hard, the long, heavy erection bobbing against his skin.

She needed him. “Yes, Sir.”

He growled his approval. “Thankfully Kat keeps all the rooms stocked,” he muttered as he popped open the bedside table’s drawer. A rip and crinkle later, he crawled back onto the bed.

He settled between her legs and his weight was a comfort even as the hard press of his cock against her abdomen kicked her heart into overdrive. His lips found hers again, and Hope decided she could be perfectly content staying in bed and making out for the rest of the weekend. Well, maybe not completely content.

“You can move your arms now,” he said against her lips.

They obeyed and jumped around his neck, holding him flush against her lips, not wanting the kiss to end. Touching his skin was, in itself, an erotic sensation. One hand trailed through his stubbly scalp, loving the tactile sensation.

He had the most perfectly shaped head, and even when he’d been shaved completely she’d thought his head was sexy. God, everything about him was sexy, from his piercing brown eyes to his imperfect, once-broken nose to his hard-muscled, tattoo-covered body. She gave herself up to the kiss, and to the one man who hadn’t given up on her.

He shifted, never pulling his lips away from hers, and suddenly he was at her entrance. He swirled little circles with his hips, dipping farther into her each time but never truly invading. He drove her crazy with desire.

She felt so empty, bereft, and the only thing that could banish that sensation was making love to Gabe. She tilted her hips upward, taking more of him inside her.

He froze above her and shuddered, ripping his mouth from hers. “God, Hope, you are so hot and tight. It feels like—”

“Like I haven’t had sex since you.” She watched the surprise fill his face before being shoved aside by a harder emotion.

“Mine,” he growled. His mouth attacked hers in a searing, possessive kiss. He propped up on one arm and used the other to tangle in her hair. “Say it,” he demanded, taking another inch of her pussy. He was so thick and she was out of practice, but there was no fear he’d bruise her as Master Joseph often had. The hard lines of his face sang of his impressive self-control. “You’re mine, Hope, and I want to hear you say it.”

No, she couldn’t say it out loud. In her private thoughts, she could admit whatever she wanted, but words had power to make emotions more real. “Sir, please, Gabe…”

He pulled out, holding himself just at her entrance.

“You can’t run from this, baby.” His fingers abandoned her hair and took her hand instead, bringing it up to rest on his new tattoo over his heart. “Feel that? That’s lust, joy, thrill, all for you.”

She melted beneath him. He always knew the right thing to say.

As she garnered her courage, he squeezed her wrist. “I know that look of concentration. It’s simple, baby. You belong to me. And I—”

“Mine,” she whispered, half-choked by her love for him.

Leaving had been an utterly bad idea, but she was back where she belonged now. Master Joseph had no more power over her. The past could creep back into her mind, but Gabe would help her through it. She knew that unconditionally.

He stared into her eyes, her hand still over his heart, and took her in one deep stroke. Her nerves flamed awake and sent tingles across ever inch of her skin.

“More, Sir,” she said, eyes rolling back into her head in lust.

He froze. “Not until you look at me.” Her eyes jumped open. Was something wrong? “Keep your eyes on mine, Hope.”

She obeyed. He pulled out then drove back into her pussy, gliding against her G-spot this time. She shuddered and moaned but managed to keep eye contact. He dropped her wrist but she kept her palm against him as he thrust again and again. Pressing down against her, he took her lips and shifted his angle, muffling her cry of satisfaction with his kiss.

Everything except that moment melted away. It was as if her life had been playing in mono on VHS; now she had Blu-ray with 7.1 surround sound. She registered every muscle of Gabe’s body, every millimeter of his cock dragging across her sensitized channel, every tangle of his tongue against hers, and they coalesced in her pussy and heart and mind. The tide dragged her under and tingling started at the bottom of her spine. She tore her mouth from his.

“Gabe, Sir, I’m so close.”

“Come for me. I need to feel your tight, hot pussy clench around me.” His erotic words, the hot look in his eyes, threw her over the edge.

She writhed and shuddered and lost all sense of self, dizzy from the pleasure. He sped his thrusts, prolonging her orgasm, until his muscles corded and tensed.

“Ah, love, I’m going to come.”

She raked her nails down his back and bit the tattoo over his heart, finally understanding what it was for. He thrust deeper into her than before, once, twice, before freezing against her. She felt him come, his thick cock twitching inside her and arousing her spent nerves.

He let his full weight fall against her for long minutes before rolling to the edge of the bed, and then he was back
sans
condom but still half-hard against her hip. He pulled her into his strong, tattooed arms, the riot of colors and shapes dizzying in her post-orgasmic bliss.

“God, that was hot,” she whispered, sated and wrapped in his arms.

“Wasn’t it?”

Silence descended. Her mind was so wonderfully blank that sleep beckoned almost instantly.

“I missed you so much, Hope.” His words barely reached her ears.

Hope assumed she dreamed them.

“I’ll keep you for as long as you let me.”

Now she really knew she was dreaming. Gabe did tenderness well, but this was something different altogether. This smacked of love.

Something they’d never said to each other.

“…hope I don’t fuck things up…sorry for not being able to give you what you needed the first…” His words echoed down the tunnel of her half-asleep mind, more indistinct with each passing moment. “…I’ll never harm you…”

Sleep pulled her under, and for the first time in far too long, she had blissful, uninterrupted dreams.

At least until he woke her for round two. And three.

Chapter Eight

Hope stood under the spotlight, bound and gagged. He could see the wetness on her thighs, the tightness of her nipples, and her arousal hit him like a Mack truck. With each lash of the flogger, her moans grew deeper and louder. Her musky smell teased his nostrils and made his mouth water. He’d never gotten to eat that sweet pussy, but now that she’d had such a breakthrough, Gabe figured she deserved a reward. After she took her punishment.

The flogger had turned her back and thighs to a sea of pink, but it wasn’t enough. The searing desire inside him needed to see her bruised and welted. He dropped the flogger and grabbed the cane. Varnished bamboo, it was thin enough to sting and solid enough to get the effect he wanted.

“Spread ’em.” She jumped to obey his command and the power swamped his mind. Hope was his to do with as he pleased. Which was all too convenient because, damn, he was stressed-out. This would be the perfect outlet for his tension.

He gave a trial swing and the crack of cane on skin proved to be addictive. Hope jumped and danced over each blow. He felt better by the minute, especially when the red streaks crowded each other on her pale, delicate skin.

She’d gone quiet. He leaned around to get a look at her face and tears were streaming down her cheeks. That shouldn’t have made him feel proud, but it proved he was truly in control of her now. She was panting and mumbling something around her gag, so he unbuckled it and let her speak.

“Blue, blue, blue,” she sobbed.

He scoffed at her safe word.

The lights in the room flickered and he turned to the cabinet of toys towering against the back wall. He grabbed a bullwhip and threw the door closed behind him. He turned back to her shaking form and cracked the whip against the floor by her feet. He loved how she jumped from the sound. Her fiery red hair shook with her sobs. He reached for her and spun her around, the ropes tying her hands together twining above her head.

Her tear-stained face implored him to stop. “Gabe,” she said, shaking her head in what he knew to be disappointment, “I’d hoped you wouldn’t turn into your father.”

He looked into the mirror beyond her, pissed that she’d dare compare them. His father’s face stared back at him.

But not just his father’s, Master Joseph’s too. Or at least what he imagined the man to look like.

“Are you going to take that, boy?” the voice mocked. “You always were weak. I should have beat
you
more, instead of your dear mother.”

The tone shifted. “Hope is as pathetic as she was, crying while I tried to discipline her.”

Gabe shook his head, trying to undo the rope knots, but his reflection showed his arm rising and the whip falling against her captive flesh.

He woke with a jolt and groped for the bedside lamp. Sweat beaded his brow and the sheets were hopelessly tangled around him. Kicking them away, he jumped from the bed as if it were toxic, only then noticing it was empty.
Hope
.

Had he caned her last night? Panic gripped him and he dived for his toy bag. Everything was it its place. He didn’t even own a cane, right?

He jumped when the bedroom door opened to reveal her sweet, innocent face. He stepped away from the duffel and slipped on a calm face. Clad only in his button-up, she looked young and beautiful and completely undeserving of a man with such violent genes.

“Good morning, Sir,” she said, sauntering over to him. She held a mug in her outstretched hands. “Thought you might like some coffee. Brunch started a half hour ago, but you were sleeping so peacefully I didn’t want to disturb you.”

“Ah, thanks, babe.”

She leaned in for a kiss, and he obliged. She didn’t seem angry at him. He took a sip of coffee, hoping the caffeine would steady him. Not likely, but it was worth a shot.

“Hope, do you need any arnica or antibiotic cream for last night?”

She laughed and patted his chest. “I’m fine.”

He heaved a mental sigh of relief. “Okay, good.”

“Making sure I’m not too sore for today?” Her laugh turned into a purr. She looked up at him through hooded eyes.

His stomach sank as his blood heated and headed south. She rubbed against him, her small hand curling around his boxer-covered erection. “Oh, seems like someone likes that idea.”

He forced a laugh, but she didn’t seem convinced.

With a long-suffering sigh, she released him. “Still not a morning person, I see.”

“Nine a.m. is still an ungodly hour.” He paused, unsure how to proceed. Mentioning his dream was out of the question—Hope didn’t know about his past—and until he shook off this sick feeling, scening would be out of the question too. “Babe, I’m going to grab a shower. Why don’t you get changed and come back here. We can go to breakfast together.”

“Sure.” Her usually infectious smile reminded him of how easy it would be to hurt her, especially now that he’d gained her trust.

But if they could avoid going downstairs, the playrooms would be out of the question. He could handle a little bedroom bondage, but the full-on playroom scene Hope seemed to want… His stomach knotted.

“Hope, are you sure you’re up for the dining room? Most of the guests will be there.”

Her look was puzzled, but it almost instantly gave way to distress. “Just craptastic. I’d completely forgotten.”

She wrapped her arms around him and that, more than anything, smoothed the rough edges from his nightmare.

He needed more of her, that much he knew. “Hope, I’ll go get us breakfast, and we’ll camp in my room until you’re ready”—
until I’m ready
—“to explore the rest of Maison. Hell, we can even have Kat up for lunch if she’s available.”