Switch Master: 6 (Ink and Kink) (23 page)

He wanted to fuck her until they were raw and spent. Instead
of taking her as he wanted, he ravished her with firm strokes of his tongue
from her clit to her sheath, stabbing his tongue deep into her vagina,
thrusting, licking.

She tasted female, salty and a little of soap from her
recent bath. Continuing to fuck her with his tongue, he trailed his hand
between her thighs and began working her clitoris with vigorous jerks and
sharp, direct slaps of his palm. Samantha went rigid, panting harshly.

“Master, have mercy on me,” she cried out.

Withdrawing his tongue, he kept her on edge by alternately
working her clit with his hand and tongue strokes. “Come for me, doll. Come
hard for me.”

“Ohmigod,” she shouted as he spanked her clit with a bit
more finesse, making her squirm as she chased after her orgasm. Stilling, she
murmured to Taran, thanking him for letting her come.

When her climax eased, he eased back and grasped her
ass-cheeks to lift her off the lounge chair for better access to her asshole.
Stabbing her rosette with his tongue, he growled fiercely when she came undone.

“Master! Please,” she called out.

Backing off a little, he demanded, “Please what, baby?”

“Don’t stop. Please don’t stop,” she insisted desperately.

“I won’t,” he promised, returning to his work.

Samantha tried to settle herself, but he wasn’t having it.
He wanted to rock her world. If analingus did it for her, he was all for it.

Knowing she was clean and there was nothing wrong in what
they were doing, he trailed one hand to the crack of her ass and began
stretching her sphincter with his fingers before working his tongue deep into
the opening.

As she thrust her hips up at him, urging him on with
demanding groans and cute “yesses”, he realized he was going to have to prepare
her with a dildo or plug before trying to fuck her ass. She was incredibly
tight, even after being stretched enough that he wouldn’t hurt her with his
finger.

There was no way he was going to harm this woman or tear
delicate tissues or make her fearful of anal sex. With that in mind, he gave it
to her the best he could and Samantha shuddered, shoving herself up at his
mouth.

Keeping her where he needed her to be with his right arm, he
ran his left hand to her slit. Pushing three fingers into her pussy, he brushed
her clitoris with his thumb, driving her relentlessly to orgasm.

Only when she screamed, “Fuck me, Master,” did he stop.

His cock felt heavy as lead and his balls were drawn taut
against his body when he stood, bringing Samantha’s legs off the arms of the
chair and draping them over his forearms. Caressing her soft thighs, he grasped
her hips, making certain her back and shoulders were braced on the bottom
cushion of the lounge chair, thrusting home.

Her glove-snug pussy felt hot, wet and fantastic. Driving
into her time and time again, he marveled at how deep he penetrated, how much
she took. Her sweet, nonsensical words spurred him to thrust faster until he
couldn’t hold back.

He came in a hot rush, her orgasmic spasms draining him.
When he could move again, he slid out of her, easing her legs down to the
ground, gradually joining her in the chair.

In a minute, he’d go use the mouthwash in the bathroom
before kissing her. But, damn, he was proud to call Samantha Riley his woman.

“Must I remain bound, Master Taran?” she asked softly.

“I think you’ve had enough for now,” he said, deftly
releasing the rope from around her wrists and hugging her close, resting his
forehead on her shoulder.

“Thank you for the reprieve,” she said with the slightest
yawn that she tried to hide. Despite the catnap she’d taken, she was tired.

“Sure, baby doll. I’ll be right back.”

Leaving her only long enough to brush his teeth and grab
some cleansing wipes, he returned to wash cum from her slit and thighs. He
cleaned himself up afterward and trashed the wipes. Settling back into the
chair, he noticed they’d missed half the movie.

“Want me to start the movie from the beginning?” he asked.

“Nah, you’re way sexier than Statham.”

“Better believe it, doll.”

“Are we still going to watch porn later?”

“If you want to,” he said.

“I’m thinking it might be nicer to finish the movie, snuggle
and have some dinner. Maybe later we can go up to the dungeon?”

“Not tonight,” he said, the look in her eyes showing her
surprise by his decision.

“Why?” she asked, the disappointment in that simple word
palatable. “I’m willing to try more.”

“That’s the buzz of endorphins talking, Samantha. I love you
too much to push you too far too soon. You’re tired, sweetie. Let’s take it
easy and go to bed early.”

“Chances are we’ll make love again.”

“We will, later, when we’ve both recovered. To tell you the
truth, it’s been ages since I’ve had this much sex. We both need a break.”

They settled in again, concentrating on the movie. It wasn’t
bad, actually. It was easy to catch up and the one-liners and classic fights
were epic. The movie ended with the good guy, Statham, winning. Not a surprise
there, but Samantha wedged around and kissed his cheek, making him blush.

“What was that for?” he asked, touched.

“Because I love you and wanted to kiss you.”

“Love you too. Let’s try that again.” Dropping his head, he
kissed her the way she deserved, with love.

In all things, Samantha deserved to be loved.

Sunday morning came faster than Sam expected, yet she
wouldn’t change a thing about the weekend she’d spent with Taran.

He was an incredible lover and a man she came to consider
her best friend. Not only was he kind, he was funny, charming and easy to talk
to. He was very much in tune with her needs, driving her to orgasm any time she
wanted, though keenly aware of when she was too sore or too tired for rough or
kinky sex.

Such was the case after they’d eaten sandwiches and watched
another movie. Rather than doing anything strenuous, they took turns in the
bathroom and climbed into bed, where they’d talked for hours.

Mainly they talked about Taran’s ideas of how he’d handle
Luke’s case. Fortunately, he wasn’t intimidated by Bernard Harcourt’s
reputation and didn’t feel Russell Walker’s appeal would get very far. He was
more concerned about Luke’s stepmother.

“Sam, are you with me?” Taran asked, having looked up from
his plate of scrambled eggs and bacon.

“I’m here. Just thinking about Luke,” she said.

“Things will work out with him.”

“What’s amazing is that Luke hasn’t become angrier about
what his father did to him and his mother. I’d say that’s his Aunt Glenda’s
doing. She’s good for him and no matter what happens we need to make sure she
remains a constant in his life.”

“Glenda told me yesterday that’d she’d bring the legal
notices that his father’s and Daria’s attorneys sent to her. She’ll also
provide Mercia Davis Walker’s last will and testament, as well as all documents
regarding Glenda’s right of guardianship. First thing Monday morning, I’m going
to dig up the transcripts on the plea deal Russell made.”

“Did you mention your job offer to Glenda?”

“I’d rather talk to her in person about that.”

“Good idea.” She agreed with Taran’s logic and sincerely
hoped Glenda would take him up on the job offer to become his receptionist.

“We also need to talk to Luke about his grades. It’s
important he maintains a good GPA if he wants to get into college.”

“Would you recommend tutoring?”

“Yes, he may also need summer school.”

“Luke isn’t going like that,” she said, believing education
was important. She’d quit her senior year of high school, something she
regretted because she’d missed out on homecoming and prom and the senior class
trip.

After James Cormack went to prison, she earned a GED and an
AA in criminology before getting into the police academy. She was proud of
that, but still wished she’d finished high school with her classmates.

“No kid wants to go to summer school. But if he does, he
could catch up with his age group and begin preparing for the SATs. He’s smart,
he simply needs to apply himself.”

“Makes sense,” she agreed, stirring her fork through her
eggs, again reliving the last two days and looking forward to the next, and the
one after that and…

“Mind if I start cleaning up the breakfast dishes?” Taran
asked, gesturing to her empty plate. She didn’t remember eating but she could
remember every detail of being made love to for hours after they’d talked in
bed.

“I’ll help,” she offered.

“Okay. When we’re finished, want to jump in the shower
together?”

Sam smiled at that. “Tempting…but…”

“You’d prefer privacy.”

“This time,” she admitted.

“No argument,” he assured.

Before climbing into bed, they’d remembered to wash a load
of laundry and Taran had tossed the clothes in the dryer when they woke up. She
now had clean underwear, jeans and socks to wear and he’d pack a bag with
things he’d keep at her place.

The buzz of a cell phone went off out of the blue, the
ringtone generic. Following the sound, she found both hers and Taran’s phones
on the coffee table. Hers was the one going off.

Grabbing it, she saw that the call went to voicemail. For
that matter, she didn’t recognize the caller’s number. When she listened to the
message, it was strangely silent except for a click that ended the call.

What was weird was that this was her personal cell phone,
used when she wasn’t at work. Her work phone was safely stored at home, along
with her plethora of laptops and desktop computer systems.

“Who called?” Taran asked.

“I’m not sure. They didn’t leave a message and the caller
was unknown. If it’s important, or one of the Femme Fatales, they’ll call
back.”

Taran was busy clearing away the dishes and Sam went to give
him a hand, taking the phone with her and placing it on the counter. Looking
down at herself, she smiled when she realized she was getting used to walking
around naked.

No sooner than she’d turned to dry off a plate, the phone
went off again. Faster this time, she scooped up the phone, placing it to her
ear, though there’d been no Caller ID.

“Hello?” she greeted, by habit not identifying herself to
the caller.

“Have I reached Samantha Riley?” a man replied, sounding far
away or on a very bad connection.

“Who may I ask is calling?” she asked, a sudden, terrible
tremor going up and down her spine. She knew that voice.

“Sam, it’s me, Mark. Don’t hang up, please,” he implored,
this time his voice becoming stronger.

“Mark?” she whispered, shocked to the core. She’d left him
alone, stayed away, especially as no one from his family bothered to come to
New York, even when James Cormack went to trial and she’d testified against him
in court.

Realizing Mark was trying to speak weakly, she focused on
what he was saying and calmed down. “Mark, are you sick?”

“Battling the flu,” he answered hastily.

“How did you get my number?”

“It wasn’t easy. I hired a PI to track you down. We need to
talk. It’s important.”

“No, we don’t. No apologies, no words of sympathy or
compassion after your uncle caused me to lose my baby! Nothing but silence and
shame for years and you call now?”

“She’s my daughter too, Sam!” he finally choked out, his
voice whisper-thin.

Sam was about to go detective badass on him then and there,
but she couldn’t stop shaking. Taran came up to her, took the phone and put it
to his ear.

“Mark Cormack? This is Taran Maddox, Samantha’s boyfriend.
If you have legal matters to discuss, you do it with me. Come near her or
threaten her, I’ll get a restraining order against you.”

There was silence and then Taran turned off the phone. She
didn’t realize she was shaking until he pulled her into his arms.

“I’ve got you, Samantha. I’ve got you,” he murmured
soothingly.

“Mark hadn’t done a single thing to help me after he found
out about the baby and sent me running to New York. Why call now?”

“I don’t know. I swear on the Maddox name, I’ll never let
him hurt you again.”

“Just hold me, Taran. That’s what I need most.”

Taran tightened his arms around her. The deep bark of a very
big dog echoed from downstairs, intruding on their closeness. The barking meant
Ethan and Morgan were home, their dog Guinness in tow.

“I’m going to jump in the shower,” she said, reluctantly
drawing back.

“Go ahead, I’ll get your clothes out of the dryer and put
them on the bed.”

“Can I borrow a shirt?”

“Sure,” Taran said, kissing her forehead. “It’ll be okay,
Samantha.”

“Thank you for standing by me when Mark called.”

“I wouldn’t stand anywhere else.”

“You’re really my champion, aren’t you?”

“Yes. Don’t forget, I’m the man who’ll slay dragons for you,
Lady Samantha.”

“Who’d have thought I’d have a knight as sexy and charming
as Sir Taran Maddox?” she teased, feeling better simply because he was there.

“That’s my brave detective talking,” Taran praised. “I love
you. Don’t worry. You’ve got the whole Maddox family watching your back.”

“Thank you for reminding me of that. Mark’s call made me
panic.”

“Anytime, baby doll,” he said, grinning wide as he took her
into his arms for a great big Maddox hug.

Only when Taran freed her did she go take a shower. A light
tap on the bathroom door sounded right as she finished and wrapped up in a
towel.

“Sam, I’ve got a clean shirt for you. May I come in?”

“Come on in,” she said. “Door’s not locked.”

Taran walked, carrying one of his tee shirts. “I took your
clothes out of the dryer and placed them on the bed. If you don’t mind, I’ll
take my turn in the shower so we can spend some time with Ethan and Morgan
before we head to Framingham.”

“Shower’s all yours, pretty boy.” Going to the sink to brush
her teeth, she looked at him through the mirror.

“You sure you’re okay?” he asked after she rinsed the
toothpaste.

“I’m fine. There’s nothing Mark can say or do to hurt what
we have.”

“That’s right.” He moved up behind her, leaning down to kiss
the back of her neck and smelling a little like bacon.

“Yum, you smell delicious,” she said. “And tempting, go take
your shower so we can spend time with your brother and Morgan.”

Taran laughed and playfully smacked her on the butt to shoo
her toward the bathroom door. Leaving him alone in the bathroom, she listened
to the sounds of the shower running while she got dressed.

Taran’s faded gray Pearl Jam concert tee shirt was too big,
yet she loved it instantly. Even though it was old, it was comfortable and
smelled nice.

Soon after she sat on the bed to put on her socks, Taran
emerged wearing a towel. He was clean shaven, looking like temptation
incarnate. Guinness barked again from downstairs, saving Sam from giving in and
tackling Taran when he walked by the bed on his way to the closet.

It wasn’t until he came out wearing a pair of jeans and a
dark-gray sweater that she went to intercept him. Without hesitation, his arms
came around her, holding her close.

“Hey, what’s the matter? Did Mark call again?”

“No, I missed you.”

“Missed you too, feel free to stay right here in my arms for
as long as you want.”

Sam sighed, hugging him closer. After a minute or two, she
settled and was ready to face the remainder of the day. She withdrew, watching
him head back to the closet.

“Ready?” he asked, returning a few minutes later with his
overnight bag in one hand.

“Yep, my boots and coat are downstairs.”

“Mine too. Don’t tell Ethan this, but their dog loves me.
You’ll see in the kitchen.”

“Guinness loves everyone.”

“I’m his favorite uncle.”

“Phalen might disagree with that.”

“Let him. His cats Samson and Delilah might actually like
Morgan and Ethan more than me. I’ll grant them that one.”

“They love you too. You’re going to be a great uncle,
Taran.”

“I hope so. You’re going to be a great aunt.”

“I don’t know about that. I’m not particularly maternal.”

“You should video yourself interacting with Luke. You would
see that you’re wrong.”

Sam felt safe admitting she’d never thought of herself as a
mother. That all changed when she met Luke and accepted her feelings for Taran.

Though she was sad that she’d never have a baby, she’d
learned there were other ways to have children, adoption, fostering. She liked
the idea of raising older children who needed structure and family.

“If all works out with Luke, do you really think we can look
into becoming foster parents? I’ve really enjoyed being around him and truly
believe the two of us could be great for older kids needing to be adopted,” she
ventured, hoping that would come to fruition.

“Yes I do. While Luke’s situation is different in that he’s
settled with his aunt, there are plenty of kids out there who need a home,” he
said. “If we play our cards right, maybe someday we’ll have a bunch of kids
running around this house.”

“With you, there’s no doubt we’ll do it right,” she declared,
smiling when he came up to her and took her hand.

Bringing her hand to his lips, he kissed her knuckles,
pressed her cell phone into her hand and led her to the bedroom door. In the
hall, she tucked the phone into her pocket. The second they entered the
kitchen, an enormous black and tan dog greeted them happily.

“Hello, boy,” Sam said, giving him lots of ear scratches.
Guinness went down on his haunches, his big pink tongue lolling out, slobber
everywhere. He was adorable.

“How about some love for your uncle?” Taran asked Guinness,
getting the dog’s attention the second he offered his hand. Guinness first
lowered his gaze, proving to Sam that the dog respected Taran’s alpha status in
the pack.

Once Taran patted his head, Guinness became his usual happy
self.

“How’s my favorite puppy?” Taran asked the dog, scratching
Guinness’ chin.

“He’s hardly a pup,” Sam pointed out.

“He’s still a baby at heart,” Taran objected.

“He’s two.”

“Okay, so he’s a big toddler. Maybe we should think about
getting a dog?”

“I can’t have pets at my apartment, not even hamsters. It’s
possible we could get a fish tank.”

“We could keep it here.”

“Keep what here?” Ethan asked, coming in from the direction
of the sitting room.

“A dog,” Taran answered.

Ethan, a blond-buzz-cut version of Taran with the same
Maddox gray eyes, was a hair or two shorter than Taran, though as broad and
strong. He was steady, a man Sam could count on as a friend and partner on the
force.

“You want to get a dog already? Aren’t the two of you moving
a little too fast?” Ethan asked, sounding incredibly serious for her normally
easygoing partner.

“Are you upset that I’m dating your brother, Ethan?” she
asked, stepping in close to Taran’s side.

“No,” Ethan said, his seriousness altering to a broad smile.
“If you’re both happy, that’s cool, just don’t try to steal my dog.”

“He’s our dog,” Morgan amended, coming in from the hallway.
“Taran and Sam would be great dog owners.”