Mistress in the Making by Lynne Silver Page A

attentions and his body.
    “Uh-uh. If you can’t say it, you don’t get what you want.” His voice was a low torturous rumble, but he didn’t give her time to respond. He pushed her thighs farther apart and up until her knees were at her chest. “Hold your legs like this.”
    She tried to hold the position, she truly did, but when he nudged his penis into her, one leg slid down helplessly. He pulled out immediately and left the bed. He returned a moment later with two strips of fabric. Her legs, which had flopped to one side while he was absent, were pushed back into position. Deftly he wrapped one strip around her right thigh and shin, anchoring them so her calf pressed against the back of her thigh, then did the same for her left.
    She didn’t want to complain since it wasn’t painful or uncomfortable, but she felt vulnerable opened up like this. She couldn’t meet Lucas’ gaze when he stepped back to survey his work with a satisfied smile.
    “Charlotte.”
    She turned her head to find his concerned face close to hers.
    He brushed a kiss on her forehead and whispered to her. “This is a game, Charlotte. Simply a game. If at any point it makes you uncomfortable, say something and we’ll stop and I’ll untie you immediately. Understood?”
    She nodded and warmth spread back into her body. She trusted him implicitly with her body and her heart. She froze at that thought. She didn’t dare trust him with her heart. Madame Bella had warned repeatedly that the worst mistake a mistress could make was to fall in love with her protector. So she suppressed her burgeoning tender feelings for Lucas and concentrated instead on what he was doing to her body. He kneeled at her bottom and massaged her buttocks while nudging at her entrance with his shaft. He never entered fully. Instead he rubbed his dripping cock up and down her slit. She could do nothing but revel in every sensation that began and ended at her core.
    Lucas built a rhythm, creating a pattern of thrusting, pulling out and rubbing against her. Over and over he repeated it until she was strung tight with her need to find release. And then he stopped.
    Leaving the bottom half of her body completely without touch, he scooted up to kiss her lips then trail a line onto her chin, her neck and her breasts. Her nipples, already hard, swelled and tightened to near pain from his ministrations. “Lucas, please.”
    He looked up from her breasts. “Please, what?” he asked. “Are you ready to beg?”
    Yes! Couldn’t he see how desperate she was? Her skin was scorching with need. “Please, Lucas.”
    He shook his head. “You’re asking politely. I want you to beg.”
    Her fingers gripped the bars of the headboard with a shocking strength and she used the leverage to roll her bottom toward Lucas’ body as a screaming hint. He didn’t take it. Instead he untied the silk ribbon around her neck and teased her with it. First a tickle of her lips, then her belly, her breasts. Her eyes closed as part of the game, trying to guess where the ribbon would go next.
    When it landed between her legs, her eyelids flew open then closed again. The sensation was…different, unexpected and decadent. The cool slickness of the ribbon glided through her wetness, sending sparks of sensation along every inch. Faster and faster Lucas moved the ribbon until she tasted the beginning of her climax. So close. And yet so far.
    “Uh-uh, my darling mistress. I haven’t heard you beg.”
    She cracked open an eye with effort to see how Lucas was handling the torture. It was inhuman that he could bring her to the brink so often without letting her find fulfillment. Wasn’t he in a similar amount of need? His body seemed to be in a similar state as hers. Sweat gleamed on his skin, glowing golden in the candlelight. Veins stood out in stark relief on his forearms, and his penis was as hard as the wooden post she was tied to and dripping with liquid silver.
    “I’m begging, Lucas.