Making a Scene (9 page)

I studied the
picture he’d pointed to. Marc was easy to recognise, though his
hair was almost military short, his features more youthful. He was
standing beside Elliot Cassidy, his father, who still looked
unapproachable even when in a relaxed setting.

On the other
side of him was a teenage girl in cut-off denim shorts, almost a
head taller than Marc and probably a few years older. Despite her
dark hair, I recognised Serena immediately.
She must not be a
natural blonde.

Next to her, a
woman who was clearly Marc and Serena’s mother completed the family
portrait. Marc resembled his father and his mother in different
ways, while Serena was almost a carbon copy of her mother.

I looked up at
Marc and whispered, “I’m so sorry. I should have trusted you.”

Pushing the
photo album aside, he gathered me into his arms and sighed, the
tension in his shoulders lessening as I clung to him. “You’re the
only one, Nell. I swear to you.”

Blinking away
more tears—
wow, if this is sub-drop, it really sucks
—I held
on tightly. “I don’t know why I got so insecure about her. I guess
I just don’t want to lose you.”

Marc reached
over for the box of tissues on the side of the bed and handed one
to me. “Unless you have other plans, you’re mine. My only sub. My
only girl.”

I began to mop
up the remnants of my tears. “No other plans, Sir.”

He waited
until I’d finished wiping my face, then pressed a slow, soft kiss
to my lips. “Mine, then.”

“Yours,” I
agreed, and went unresisting when he lay back on the bed, pulling
me with him.

****

We dozed for a
while in between kisses and soft, affectionate caresses. A while
later, a question came to me. “If you don’t mind me asking, why did
your father disown Serena?”

A darkness
seemed to descend on Marc, making me wish I hadn’t asked.

“It’s okay.
You don’t have to tell—”

“She’s a
lesbian. My father wasn’t okay with that.”

I winced. Of
all the horrible reasons to disown someone, doing it because they
loved someone of the same sex was near the top of the list, in my
opinion. “God, I’m so sorry. Is he really religious, or…?”

“No, he’s just
an asshole who cares too much about his own reputation.” Marc shook
his head. “I’d rather not talk about it. It was a pretty dark day
for our family.”

I definitely
understood that. “That’s fine.”

A few moments
passed in silence, and I tried to find a way to lighten the mood.
“Now I feel twice as stupid.”

“Hmm?” Marc
tilted my chin to gaze down at me. There was a slightly haunted
look to his expression that chilled me, but I decided not to ask,
despite my curiosity to know exactly what had caused it.

I carried on
with my original train of thought. “Being insecure that you were
having an affair with your sister is embarrassing, but your
lesbian
sister? Even less likely to happen.”

Genuine
amusement spread across Marc’s face, chasing away the shadows of
his past. “Well, I wasn’t going to point it out, but now you
mention it…”

“I’ll take my
punishment for assuming the worst, Sir.”

Marc smoothed
his hand over the bruises he’d put on my ass, making me gasp at the
unexpected pain. “You will…when these have faded.”

I nodded a
little reluctantly, hoping I hadn’t let myself in for something
worse than I could handle. Before my imagination really went wild,
though, Marc interrupted my thoughts. “Now sleep, my sub. It’s been
a long, hard night and you need rest.”

Unable to
resist, I giggled. “Long and hard? Yeah, that’s how I remember
it…”

“Little minx.”
Marc tugged on my hair, angling my head back so he could kiss me.
For long moments, his lips lingered on mine, his tongue tasting and
teasing. Then he broke away abruptly. “I mean it. Sleep,
Eleanor.”

I snuggled
closer and brushed my hand over his hardening cock. “Are you sure,
Sir?”

Marc groaned
as I ran my fingertips gently up and down his shaft. “You’re a
disobedient little temptress.”

“I just want
to please my Master,” I protested playfully, beginning to stroke
him harder. His hips bucked involuntarily, encouraging my touch,
and I knew I had him.

“Your Master,
huh?” He gripped the back of my neck, squeezed a little, and I
thrilled at the dominant display. Would I ever get enough of Marc
Cassidy?

“Yes…Master.”
I wasn’t entirely sure it was the mode of address turning him on
until his cock became even more solid in my hand. “That’s more
hardcore than being called ‘Sir’, right?”

He growled as
I swirled my thumb over the head of his dick, rubbing his pre-cum
over the skin lightly. “Yes. It’s generally what collared subs call
their owners.”

A deeper level
of submission, and the thought of it was driving him crazy?
Interesting.
“What do collared subs need to do that
uncollared ones don’t?”

“That’s down
to the individuals involved. Some view a collar as seriously as
they would a wedding ring. Some just like their subs to know who
they belong to, and wear a reminder of that at all times, but
they’re more relaxed about the symbolism.” Marc ran his hand down
my throat, as if imagining an official collar there. I tilted my
head back, closing my eyes, and sped up my strokes beneath the
covers.

“And what
about you, Master? How do you see a collar?”

“Fuck,
Eleanor,” he gritted out, and grabbed me by the hair, pushing me
down. “Suck me, now.”

Only too happy
to oblige, I wriggled down under the covers to take his hot,
steel-hard cock in my mouth. Marc pushed down the blanket to watch
me, and as I met his eyes the heat between my own legs intensified.
He was mastering me with his gaze as much as with his hand in my
hair—maybe even more.
So hot…

“Since you
asked, I see a collar as somewhere in the middle. A stamp of my
possession and a serious commitment. And yes, my sub, I’m planning
to collar you someday soon.”

I moaned
approval around his cock, and he thrust right to the back of my
throat as the vibrations teased him higher. I took him as best I
could, pushing back the instinct to gag, and he began to slowly
fuck my mouth. He was mindful of what I could take, but I sensed
his need to just let go and pound deeper. I drew back with a gasp
for air. “Master, thinking about you collaring me makes me so wet
and hot for you… Please, would you fuck me hard?”

I’d barely
gotten the words out when Marc dragged me up his body, then rolled
me underneath him, crushing me beneath his weight for a breathless
moment as we ground together. He shifted to position his cock at my
entrance, and commanded, “Beg your Master for it, Eleanor.”

“Please,
Master—please take your sub hard and deep. Be rough with me, use
me, make me hurt, make me scream out for you, please please
please—”

He slammed
into me so hard that I cried out, and didn’t give me any time to
recover before he withdrew and pounded in again, over and over. I
clawed his back and buttocks in encouragement and let him use me,
exactly as I’d asked for. Being on my back made each thrust hell on
my bruised buttocks and thighs, but it was delectably arousing
hell.

“Not gonna
last, beautiful. Touch yourself for me.”

I arched my
back so that his chest brushed my nipples with each one of his hard
thrusts, and slid a hand down between us to rub my slick clit
firmly. My pussy squeezed around his thick length and I moaned, my
legs shaking as my orgasm crashed over me in a tidal wave of wet,
tingling heat. “Master!”

Marc bit down
on my shoulder with a muffled, masculine cry of pleasure, his
entire body shuddering as he came deep inside me, grinding his
pelvis against mine. I wound my arms and legs around him, holding
him there, and as we struggled for breath he rolled us onto our
sides, relieving me of most of his weight.

“Now sleep, or
I swear to god, I will make you cook the most complicated meal I
can think of from scratch tomorrow. And you’ll be doing it naked.”
Marc punctuated his threat with a brief, hard kiss to my lips.

I winced and
buried my head in his neck. “I’ll be good.” I debated calling him
‘Master’ again, but the idea of peeling vegetables and chopping
onions was enough to make me toe the line. “Sir.”

Marc stroked
his fingers over my bare neck with a thoughtful expression. I
closed my eyes, enjoying the sensation, but felt the pull of sleep
too strongly for any further interaction. With a faint smile, I let
his touch lull me into oblivion.

* * * *

Dear
Diary,

I’m so
relieved that the mysterious blonde woman is Marc’s sister, but I
get the feeling there’s more to the story than Marc’s letting on. I
think something bad happened around the same time as Mr. Cassidy
Senior disowned Serena. Something really bad, and it’s still
affecting Marc’s life. He obviously hates his dad, so why is he
working with him?

It’s none of
my business, though, and I’ve got more immediate things to mull
over—like the fact that Marc wants to take me out to play at a
local club, and that he plans to collar me soon. I’m excited and
scared all at once. Does Marc really feel as strongly about me as I
do about him, or does he just have a fetish for being called
‘Master’? I wish I knew.

One thing’s
for sure—Marc makes me feel like no one ever has before, and I want
to spend every moment I can with him. I just hope this issue at
work that’s making him put in all this overtime is resolved
quickly…

Author’s
Note

Keep an eye out
for the final instalment of
Hot, Rich and Dominant
, coming
very soon! Thank you so much for reading, and for those who’ve been
waiting months for this, your patience and kind words have meant
the world to me. I’d love to know what you think!

Until the fifth
and final book is ready, please spread the word about the series to
friends you think might appreciate it—I’m an indie author with
limited promo resources, so every review, recommendation and blog
post helps. :)

Also by Amy
Valenti

Hot, Rich and
Dominant

Hot, Rich and
Dominant 2—Learning Curve

Hot, Rich and
Dominant 3—Collars and Dollars

Little Tease
(Rack and Ruin #1)

Model
Submissive (Rack and Ruin #2)

Always the
Quiet Ones

Battle of
Thrills

Cornered

Die for Him

Dominance and
Deception

Hidden Heat

Of Sawdust and
Seduction

Shocked

Smoke and
Mirrors

Switching
Off

About the
Author

Amy Valenti is
a tarnished tease, and her mind has lived in the gutter since the
day she realised what sex was. She hails from England, which she
doesn’t find quite as exotic and sexy as the average US citizen
seems to, but if people want to compliment her on her accent,
that’s all fine with her! Her muses are many, fickle and very
demanding.

She has a
degree in creative writing and currently works as an editor. In her
free time, she reads, writes and plays videogames. On the rare
occasions she doesn’t have a laptop on her knee, she loves to curl
up with friends and pets—and chocolate—for TV show and movie
marathons.

Amy also
writes erotica (without the romance!) under the pseudonym Sidonie
Spice.

Find Amy
Online

As Amy Valenti
(erotic romance):

Blog:
http://amyvalenti.wordpress.com

Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/AmyValentiErotica

Twitter:
http://twitter.com/#!/AmyValenti

As Sidonie
Spice (erotica shorts):

Blog:
http://sidoniespice.wordpress.com

Facebook:
http://www.facebook.com/pages/Sidonie-Spice/132024630232262

Twitter:
http://twitter.com/#!/SidonieSpice