Mastering Her Senses (Blasphemy Book 2), Page 3

  With a little shiver, she obeyed immediately. And that slayed him, a little bit, it really did. The trust despite the great well of vulnerability he knew she had. He rewarded her by baring a breast and drawing his fingers around her nipple, gently stroking and pulling.

  Her eyelids flipped open, the hazel reflecting desperation back at him.

  Watching her closely, he bared the other breast, and her dress pooled around her waist. “Again, little one. Eyes closed and count to ten.” He tormented the other breast and studied her face, watching for any signs of panic, but also taking in how pretty she was. High cheekbones. Full lips. The scars that proved she was a survivor.

  Swallowing hard, she opened her eyes, a little smile playing around her lips.

  “Good,” he said, giving her the praise she deserved. “We’re going for more now. When your eyes are closed, imagine you’re looking at something or some place that makes you feel safe and secure, that makes you feel good. Okay?”

  Studying him, she nodded.

  He laid her back against the edge of the black leather couch and leaned in over her. “Then this time, count to twenty-five. Go.”

  Her lids fluttered closed, and Quinton replaced his exploring fingers with his tongue. He licked and sucked at her neck, the sensitive tendon of her shoulder, her breasts, zeroing in on her nipple until he drew it into his mouth. Jesus, she was sweet.

  “Twenty-five,” she whispered on a gasp.

  “Very good,” he said, rewarding her with more praise each and every time, until she could hold her eyes closed for a count of sixty and was starting to drive him insane with the way she was squirming in his lap. She was ready for more. Leaning in, he pressed his mouth to her ear. “Are you aroused, Cassia?” He didn’t really need to ask, but getting her talking was one small part of getting her out of her head.

  “Yes, Sir,” she whispered.

  His tongue flicked over the shell of her ear. “Are you wet?”

  “Very,” she said, her head falling to the side as her hand fisted in his tank top.

  Then she was definitely ready for more. “Then rise and undress. I want you standing in front of the wall.” He pointed to the far side of the room, where a set of chains dangled from the ceiling. “It’s time to begin.”

  ~~~

  Cassia couldn’t stop shivering, but it was the good kind of trembling. For once.

  Because of Master Quinton.

  He’d barely touched her, really, but it was the way he’d done it. Guiding her through the darkness behind her closed eyes so that she’d never felt the full impact of the fear stalking around the edges of her mind. Instead, he’d proved to her again and again that he’d still be right there even if she couldn’t see him.

  Smart, smart man. And damn if smart wasn’t sexy as hell.

  As she undressed and moved to the stark concrete wall, Cassia burned for more. More of his calloused touch, more of the commanding rumble of his voice, more of that intense masculine gaze. It’s been a long time since she’d done a full scene, and never once since the accident.

  All of which made it feel like she might vibrate right out of her skin, like she couldn’t possibly bear the anticipation of it, like it was her very first time.

  She took position, back to the wall, with her legs spread, her hands at her side, and her head down. And then she waited.

  Finally, finally, Master Quinton appeared in front of her. His bare feet stuck out beneath the frayed hems of his jeans. She hadn’t realized just how sexy feet could be before that moment. It almost made her smile.

  “Reach up and grasp the bar,” he said in a low voice.

  Releasing a shaky breath, Cassia found a spreader bar hanging above her with an open cuff on each end. The metal was cool against her palms, and the position totally exposed every part of her to Master Quinton’s gaze. Which unleashed nervous butterflies inside her because it had been a long time since she’d last been this open, this trusting with another person. But then she realized she could study him in return.

  And, holy hell, if she’d thought his feet were sexy, that was nothing compared to the rest of him. He stood there wearing a pair of obviously well-loved blue jeans, his leather Master’s cuff, and nothing else. Somehow, that was hotter than if he’d been totally nude. Master Quinton was defined without being ridged, muscular without being beefy, and he had an absolutely fascinating black tribal tattoo that wrapped around the right side of his ribs—fascinating because it disappeared beneath the waistband of his faded jeans.

  “Very nice,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly. “You look beautiful like that, open and available to my every whim.”

  Another shiver raced over Cassia’s skin. “Thank you, Sir.”

  “This scene is going to be about learning where the edge of your tolerance is, Cassia,” he said, drawing out her name in a way that made her think of him licking her skin. “Are you ready?”

  “Yes, Sir,” she managed. At least, she hoped she was. No, dammit, she was.

  With a nod, he held up a circle of sheer black lace. “Then you’ll wear this for me,” he said. Not a question, but she nodded anyway. In a quick movement, he slipped the soft fabric around her head. The stretchy lace was black, but largely see-through. It gave the illusion of darkness, without being dark. He peered down and met her eye-to-eye. “Where are you right now?”

  “Green, Sir.”

  He nodded and ran his knuckles gently down her cheek. “Brave girl.”

  Cassia’s reply was cut off as she gasped, because Master Quinton had pressed a vibrator against her clit.

  Fisting his hand in the length of her hair, he brought their faces close. “Come as fast and as often as you can.” The vibrations intensified.

  “Oh, God,” she moaned. Because she was already close. From his teasing on the couch. From the fear that already had her body and mind wound tight. From the tormenting sensations.

  “Close your eyes, Cassia,” he whispered. “Close them and just feel.”

  Oh, God, she did. She closed them. But he held her grounded in the moment. With the warmth of his face against hers. With the tight, commanding hold of his hand in her hair. With the vibrations shoving her hard toward release.

  It was the best she’d felt in longer than she could remember. The lightest. The most free.

  And that…that was a lot.

  Suddenly, she was right there. On the edge, then falling fast. A moan ripped out of her as the orgasm tore through her, her first at another person’s hands in so, so long.

  “Don’t let go,” Master Quinton growled. “Because you’re not done yet.” The vibrator pressed more firmly between her legs. “I want more.”

  “Oh, shit,” she gasped, shaking her head but holding on tight, just like he’d commanded.

  “Blind with pleasure, remember?” The tone was smug, as was the chuckle that followed when she repeated her curse. But she could hardly hold that against him when she was already close again, especially as he released her hair and took to tormenting her nipples instead. One and then the other. Biting squeezes that rocked through her like an electrical charge. Palming the head of the vibrating massager, it was almost as if he were cupping her pussy as he pressed it tighter against her clit. And then he moved it in slippery, taunting circles. “I want my fingers dripping with your pleasure.”

  The sensations were destroying her restraint, but it was the blunt words that did it. Eyes clenched tight of her own accord, Cassia came again, and again, before she nearly crumpled as the aftershocks of the orgasms wracked through her.

  Master Quinton caught her with an arm around her waist. “Good. So fucking good.” He hugged her against his bare chest, and she soaked in his heat. “Do you need a break?”

  “No,” she said, breathing him in. Soap, spicy aftershave, and something all Quinton. “No, I’m good, Sir.”

  He pressed a kiss to her hair. “Good. Because we’re just getting started, baby girl. Put those hands back up.”

  Lust dr
unk, Cassia chuckled as she reached upwards. “I don’t know if I can.”

  “Oh, you can,” he said, eyebrow arched in a sexy smirk. When she was in position again, he held up another circle of black lace. “Ready for more?”

  She shuddered. “Yes, Sir.” The second layer of lace slipped over her head, as sheer as the first, though together, they obscured more of her vision.

  “Good?” He stroked a hand down her ribs, making her squirm.

  Smiling, she nodded. “Green, Sir.”

  “Mmm. Green is good.” Master Quinton stepped out of her line of vision, and all she knew was the odd cranking sound that echoed in the room. Like a spigot turning on.

  He returned to stand in front of her, and sure enough, he held a hose with a strange hand-held shower head on the end. The kind with multiple settings…

  The evil Dom nailed her with a stare. “Have you ever used a shower head to make yourself come, Cassia?”

  Heat roared over her face, which was really frickin’ ridiculous given that she was naked and he’d just given her three orgasms, but the question—and that hose—had just taken her by such surprise. “Um. Yes, Sir.”

  He gave her a playful smile—part smirk, and part sex on a stick—and nodded. “Was hoping you’d say that.” He held the shower head near her lips and twisted a nozzle until water trickled out in a slow stream. “Drink.”

  Cassia sucked the lukewarm water into her mouth. As she did, some dripped down her front. But she didn’t mind, not when his gaze blazed at the wetness falling from her mouth and running down her neck, over her breasts…

  “More?” he asked.

  “No, thank you, Sir.” She licked her lips.

  He made another adjustment, and the water hit her belly more firmly. Not a hard spray yet, but a soft shower. And warmer now. “Water is going to be our friend in this little endeavor, Cassia. I want to build a strong sensual association to it, for you.”

  Warmth rained down over her breasts, her belly, her hips. Ticklish, soft, and comforting, too.

  “I want you to associate water with feeling good…” The spray passed over her mound, and she gasped. He trailed it down her legs, down her thighs to her knees to her feet—and then back up again. “I want water to be calming and relaxing, to help get you out of your head and your fears.” Using a little black remote he pulled from his pocket, Master Quinton dimmed the lights. Between the lowered lighting and the layers of black lace, it seemed much darker in the room. Dark enough that he was mostly a silhouette before her. Cassia’s heart tripped into a sprint, and her mind flirted with the desire to flee.

  Gritting her teeth, she tried to resist, and then she moaned, “Yellow, Sir.”

  The room brightened just a little, but it was enough to help hold the panic at bay. And then the stream of water hit her clit. She went up onto tiptoes as she clutched at the bar above her.

  “That’s it,” he rasped. “I’m here. And you’re safe. And you’re going to come to please me.”

  Master Quinton held the water right there. And then he turned up the pressure. “Don’t think, Cassia,” he bit out. “Feel.”

  She did. God help her, it was nearly all she could do. The spray was almost harsh now, and it nailed her where she was neediest and most sensitive. The water stimulated her senses as it ran down her legs, dripped and splashed against the concrete floor, and drilled into her clit in an inescapable, delicious torture. “Oh, oh, Master Quin—”

  The orgasm stole her ability to speak, to think, to breathe. And then he prolonged it by turning the pressure up yet another notch. Cassia screamed her way through two more orgasms, sure she was losing her mind, her sanity, her very self.

  The pleasure was so overwhelming, when she’d been adrift in a sea of utter shit for so long, that it was…almost…too much. Toomuchtoomuchtoomuch.

  On a moan, Cassia broke into a sob as wrenching as it was unexpected. And all she knew was that she wasn’t alone. And that, right now…that was more than she’d had in a long time.

  Chapter Four

  Quinton caught Cassia in his arms as she nearly crumpled to the ground. Part of him had expected this, so he’d been prepared to move when she finally broke.

  Wetness be damned, he carried her to the leather sofa where they’d sat earlier, settled them into a corner of it, and pulled a blanket to wrap around her. Given how high he’d taken her, it wouldn’t have been surprising for any submissive to achieve the kind of intense subspace that could lead to a marked emotional release like this. But he’d suspected that Cassia’s trauma might make those reactions even more intense.

  Which just meant he’d need to be there for her every step of the way.

  Exactly what he planned to do.

  Holding her against his chest, Quinton eased the lace blindfolds from her head and stroked her hair. Finally, her tears quieted to sniffles and occasional shudders.

  “Wow,” she finally managed, peering up at him with eyes so bright they were almost green. “I’m sorry for losing it.”

  “Nothing to be sorry for. Just rest, Cassia,” he said. “Let your mind shut down if you need to. I’ve got you. And I don’t have anywhere else I need to be other than right here with you.” He always felt that way towards the submissives who gifted him with their service. It was his duty to provide aftercare for them. And with Cassia, it felt especially important, because he knew she was struggling with something bigger and deeper than most.

  She reached up and gently, softly stroked the side of his face. “Sweet man,” she said in a sleepy voice. Her eyelids sagged shut.

  He didn’t know if it was the satisfaction of having given her pleasure, the ease reflected in her gaze and her body, or those words, but, sitting there with this warm, sated woman in his lap, Quinton felt ten fucking feet tall. And he was overcome with a sudden yearning. For someone who’d make him feel that way all the time. Not just like a Dominant, but like someone’s Master.

  The distinction wasn’t one that he’d given that much thought to during his years in the lifestyle. That is, not until his two closest friends at Blasphemy had collared submissives of their own over the past couple of months. First, Kyler Vance, the proud commitment-phobe, had collared Mia Breslin, despite the fact that she’d turned out to be his boss’s daughter, something that had almost ended them before they’d even started. And then Griffin got the second chance he’d always wanted but never dared hope for with Kenna.

  On some level, Quinton was aware he held a piece of himself back. And he didn’t need a shrink to know why. Growing up, he’d had a front-row seat to a grade-A dysfunctional marriage. He’d seen the fighting and the apathy, and how two adults could lead separate lives even though they’d lived in the same house. From one particularly nasty fight before they’d divorced, his mother’s words still sometimes rang in Quinton’s ears: I never should’ve settled for less than everything. He’d expected his father to yell something mean in return, but what he’d heard instead left a bigger impression: No, you shoudn’t have. And neither should I. His dad had moved out the next day.

  So Quinton wanted the real thing. He wanted the everything. And he’d never been entirely sure it existed.

  But Kyler thought he’d founded it, and so did Griffin.

  Quinton peered down at Cassia, his thoughts a mess of wants. After a while, his gaze locked onto the scar on her face. They should’ve been together just as she’d been suffering that injury. That she’d gotten hurt wasn’t his fault, and there wasn’t a thing he could’ve done to stop the accident from happening, but that didn’t change the odd niggle of guilt he felt. At the very least, he could’ve checked in, followed up, helped her sooner.

  Coulda, woulda, shoulda.

  Even though it made no sense, he had the oddest thought: Next time, I’ll be there to protect her. Except that wasn’t their deal here, was it?

  On a stretch, Cassia’s eyelids fluttered open, distracting him from examining the strange impulse any further.

  “Hi,” she sa
id, a sleepy, warm smile shaping her beautiful face.

  “Hi, yourself.”

  “Was I out long?” she asked, just a hint of self-consciousness in her expression.

  He shook his head, wanting more than anything to have her at ease around him. Always. Why did she make him feel that way? Was it a desire to make up for what he hadn’t done before? He didn’t know. “Not too long. How do you feel?”

  She hesitated for a moment, and he could see that she was really reflecting on the question rather than giving the rote fine that so many people might’ve. He appreciated that. “I feel…good. A little tired. But, also kinda energized from...everything.” Pink filtered into her cheeks.

  “Everything being the seven orgasms?” He arched a brow.

  The laughter that spilled out of her lit him up inside. “Pretty much,” she said. “But it was more than that, too. I mean, don’t get me wrong. That was amazing.” They both chuckled. “But for the hour I was with you, I didn’t think…of everything that happened. I was just…me. The old Cass.” A sheen of glassiness made her eyes sparkle as she peered up at him.

  The old Cass. He liked the sound of that, for her. He tucked a strand of rich brown hair behind her ear. “I’m glad.” Quinton didn’t want this to end tonight. Not yet. And then he thought of something fun that would keep it from having to. “I’ve got an idea and I want you to say yes.”

  Her eyebrow arched over a confused expression. “Uh, okay. Is it…are you ordering me to say yes? Sir?”

  Quinton grinned. “Not unless you want me to.” Really, he wanted her to say yes because she wanted to.

  Cassia bit her lip. “Well, I think we both know that I like when you order me around.”

  “I’ll never get tired of hearing you admit that,” he said, smirking.

  She laughed. “So what’s your idea?”

  “Get dressed and come dancing with me,” he said. “Here, at Blasphemy.”

  Putting her finger to her lips, she affected an I’m thinking about it smile. “Hmm. Let’s see…that’s a yes.”