Natural Law (30 page)

The climax built higher and hotter than the hottest Florida sun, and she was whimpering with each stroke, unable to get a purchase on the table, not wanting one, 202

Natural Law

but feeling out of control, rushing at breakneck speed to where they were going. All her fear and guilt were being swept away before physical response, and her breath was harsh and loud as the slap of his thighs against the backs of hers. His fingers dipped, caught her clit and began to manipulate it.

“Oh, no…” She went over the crest like a rocket, her hand clinging to his other arm, now anchored firmly just above her breasts, so her body strained forward, unable to do anything but convulse in the throes of the strong climax as he brought her down on him again and again, until his thighs quivered, his breath rasped, and she cried out with him again. He shouted out his release, his cock working inside her like the power of life itself, virile and potent, creating mysteries beyond the desire for knowledge, taking them into the realm of blind faith.

She clung to him, let him make her serve his cock until he chose to slow, until her cries became soft, mewling whimpers. At length, he eased her forward so she was flat on the table, his knuckles rubbing a soft caress between her shoulder blades as her deep pants slowed into soft sobs, quiet hitching breaths.

He leaned down and placed a soft kiss in the center of her back, dwelling there, a tender, rubbing caress.

“My Mistress is generous, and kind,” he said softly. “But she’s done nothing to deserve a punishment from her slave.”

“It’s not a rational thing,” she whispered. “I just needed to know…I needed to give you that.”

“As I said, my Mistress is generous,” he responded simply. She was limp in his arms as he turned her, lifted her into a sitting position so they were facing each other.

His cock was glistening with her come and his, and the beauty of his slightly damp, living breathing body overwhelmed her. He fastened his jeans and then lifted her in his arms.

“Should you—”

“Ssshh…” He took her inside, to the bathroom, set her down on the lid of the commode. “You worry too much.”

“What are you doing?” He took out a bottle of peroxide, several cotton balls.

“I want to make sure I don’t cause you any infection.” She turned her glance to the teethmarks. “I wasn’t expecting that.” He went to one knee, dabbed the cotton at her shoulder.

“You wanted the animal. You can call him when you want him.” Something in his voice turned her to him, made her lift his chin so she could see his face.

Mac closed his hand over hers, held her gaze. “I’ve seen it enough to know it lives in all of us, and it’s not always a bad thing. You bring it out in me, and only you can harness it. Don’t stop being my Mistress.”

“It’s not a choice I have,” she smiled. She placed her forehead against his, closed her eyes. “Oh, Mac.”

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Joey W. Hill

“I know, sugar.” His hand cupped the back of her head. “We made it, and you did it. I love you with all I’ve got. Let me take care of you again, as I’ve wanted to, for nine fucking months. Don’t be afraid.”

Everything inside her loosened inside at his low, fervent tone. “I want to spend my life being your Mistress,” she raised her head, looked at him kneeling at her feet. “I want to make you beg for my pussy, see your fine ass every day and know it’s mine to do with as I wish.”

He arched a brow. “Pretty unorthodox marital vows.”

“Is that a marriage proposal?” she teased, though her voice shook a little. “I guess it might be. What do I get, if it is?”

He put down the cotton balls, took both her hands in his. “I’ll make you feel so loved and desired, sugar, you won’t know where one ends and the other begins. What’s more, it won’t matter. You won’t need to separate them.”

“Okay,” she said, only a little terrified. “So, how will this go, then? You promise to love, cherish and…”

“Obey,” he murmured, a whisper from her lips.

The kiss was hungry and powerful, and she gave herself over to it. To have his tongue inside of her mouth, her own curling deliciously into its grasp, feeling his flesh give way under the not-so-gentle bite of her teeth. To be as rough as she wished, to hear him growl against her with need. When she pulled back, she saw he was fully erect again against the crotch of the jeans.

“I think you have a little trouble with that last vow,” she gasped. “We’ll have to work on it. In fact, I’m thinking I might need to take you to bed and remind you who your Mistress is. Right now.”

Lord, please, now.

“There’s no one I’d rather have set me straight. Though I expect it will take a lifetime.” He smiled that smile that melted her heart, started to get to his feet.

“We’ll see,” she sniffed. “I’m giving you sixty or seventy years to shape up, Mackenzie Nighthorse. After that, I’m dumping your ass.” He grinned, caught her lips in a kiss again, swung her up in his arms. “Try it, sugar.

Just try it.”

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About the author:

Joey W. Hill lives on the Carolina coast with her wonderful husband, a houseful of animals, and their dauntless sailboat, Shadowfax. She is published in two genres, contemporary/epic fantasy and women's erotica, and has won awards for both.

Joey welcomes mail from readers. You can write to her c/o Ellora’s Cave Publishing at P.O. Box 787, Hudson, Ohio 44236-0787.

Also by Joey W. Hill:

Enchained

Forgotten Wishes

Holding The Cards

If Wishes Were Horses

Make Her Dreams Come True

Snow Angel

Discover for yourself why readers can't get enough of the multiple award-winning publisher Ellora's Cave. Whether you prefer e-books or paperbacks, be sure to visit EC

on the web at www.ellorascave.com for an erotic reading experience that will leave you breathless.

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