He was so close to winning her heart and yet so far. She seemed to be trying to look past the monster she thought he was, but she still hadn’t accepted the real reason she’d come here. Submission and bondage were such dirty, shameful concepts to her. She fought against the healthy, consensual aspects of it by focusing on only the ugly illegal kind of slavery.
She pulled her hand away and touched the collar at her throat. Her nostrils flared, her muscles tensed, and he knew she was preparing an argument.
She sat up and pivoted toward him with a stubborn set in her jaw. “You make the rules around here, which means you have the power to end the suffering of all those slaves. I know”—she hardened her husky voice—“I know that with the snap of that one command you would make me happy. So fucking happy, Matias, that I would give you my heart and soul and whatever else you desired.”
His stomach twisted and soured. “I don’t want your fucking negotiated affections, Camila.”
He lurched up and gripped her hips. She yelped as he dumped her on her back and fell on top of her.
With her chest rising and falling against his, she gave him her best glare. “Then what do you want? What can I do?”
He had been inside her pussy every day she’d been here, and other than his massive fuck up when he took her against the post, he’d only bound her with lightweight string. Most of the time, he hadn’t restrained her at all. He hadn’t spanked her, whipped her, or done anything to cause her physical pain since that first day.
He wanted her willing and begging for bondage. While she hadn’t once fought him during sex, her participation had been dubious, as if her body was submitting while her mind screamed hell no.
All of this was expected. He knew it would take a lot of time and patience, but it didn’t make it any easier.
“I’ve already told you.” He shackled her wrists with his hands and pinned her arms against the grass above her head. “Stop focusing on what you think you know and look at me, at us. What are you really after? What do you need?”
“The prize.” Her eyes flashed. “You without slavery.”
“Slave has more than one meaning. Open your mind.”
“You’re talking about what Nico said to me?” She yanked her arms against the grip of his hands. “My supposed search to be owned and dominated?” At his nod, her gaze widened. “Are those women…? Holy shit, are they here willingly?”
“No.” His heart pounded with frustration. “They definitely don’t want to be here.”
Flickering shadows spread over her face. “I don’t understand.”
“Try.”
She regarded him for a long moment then blinked. “You want me to trust you.”
“It’s a very good place to start.”
She breathed in, out, and again. Then muscle by muscle, she slackened beneath him. Her arms went limp in the grip of his hands. Her legs widened, knees falling open to accommodate his hips.
His nerve endings stirred everywhere their bodies touched—hands, chests, thighs, and…fuck, her cunt burned hot against his cock. Excitement surged through him, coiling like a fist around his shaft. He couldn’t stop himself from grinding, his breaths shortening and control unraveling.
Eyes damp and overly bright, she started to tremble, her voice reedy. “One hard, violent fuck away from surrender?”
The words he’d given Nico sounded so fucking erotic whispered from her quivering lips. Surrender didn’t come without fear, and she was there—the perspiration on her brow, the ashen coloring in her cheeks, the irregular pace of her breaths. He was going to fuck her and make it hurt, make her scream. But he knew that somewhere deep inside her, she was going to enjoy it, and that probably scared her the most.
“Remove your clothes.” He shifted to his knees and tackled his belt.
She hesitated, her gaze locked on the strap of leather he folded in his fist.
“Camila.”
She looked up at his cutting tone, and he gave the command again, not with his voice, but with the full force of his eyes.
Her inhale fluttered, fingers curling in the grass. Then, with a nod, she obeyed.
MATIAS TIGHTENED HIS HAND around the leather belt, unable to stifle the shaking in his fingers as Camila stood and reached for the hem of her shirt. He could no longer hear the drone of bees, feel the sunlight, or smell the citrus in the air, yet the atmosphere had never been more alive than it was now.
Balancing her weight on the heels and balls of her bare feet, she pulled the shirt over her head. Her slave training was evident in the way she held herself—legs straight, knees unlocked, gaze trained on him. But despite the darkness of her past seeping in, her brown eyes shone through it.
Fuck him, but he loved her inner strength, loved how her chest lifted and arched, her shoulders squared, and how her attention homed in on him as if the movement of her hands was merely reflex. He felt her submission at a molecular level, every cell in his body gravitating toward her, his muscles hungrily aware and throbbing to take what was his. But he remained where he was, three feet away, and devoured her every move.
Keeping her face and chest angled toward him with her chin drawn in, she slowly and gracefully removed her bra, jeans, and panties. Then she straightened, the alignment of her head and neck vertical, arms hanging at her sides without stiffness, and let him stare.
He stood frozen in the wake of her beauty, absorbing her nudity, her willingness, in the place he’d meticulously rebuilt, amid the trees he’d planted and cared for, every seed, yard of dirt, and precious memory put here for her.
Long black hair fell over the slender lines of her shoulders, framing round, perfectly-shaped tits. The curl of her fingers against her thighs drew his gaze to the feminine curves of hips, the flat expanse of stomach, and the shadow of hair that had grown back between her legs.
A growl escaped his throat, and he grabbed himself through the jeans, running a palm against his aching cock. She was built for him, every dip, arch, muscle, and bone, all his to worship and protect.
He prowled toward her, soaking in her quickening breaths and the way her gaze tracked him as he circled her. When he stopped behind her, her toes flexed in the grass. He took his time examining her sinful ass and strong, sinuous backbone before dropping the belt and sweeping his hands down her arms.
The marks had faded to yellowish bruises, and he hadn’t needed to cut her again. The first time had been a strong enough statement, and she exuded the timid slave act like a pro.
“Matias…” She shuddered, and it wasn’t an act. “I’m afraid.”
“Afraid of me? Or this?” He hooked an arm around her and squeezed a nipple, hard enough to make her whimper. “Are you scared to want this?”
“Yes.” Her voice wavered. “All of it.”
He put his nose in her hair and slid his fingers around the sides of her breasts, the dips in her waist, and lower to cup and stroke her pussy. A rush of warmth chased his pulse, his erection bent painfully in his jeans. His fingers quaked and stiffened in his desperation for her.
“What did I tell you about fear?” He pressed his dick against her ass and lightly caressed her damp folds.
“It will haunt—” She cried out as he pinched her clit, but she kept her hands at her sides and didn’t pull away. “It will haunt me until I step inside and show it my teeth.”
“I’ll be right here with you. Always.”
The thudding of his heart beat in sync with the pulsing in his cock. She had no idea the power she held over him, didn’t know how dry his mouth had gone or that his insides heated to a fevered level of dizziness. Nothing or no one had ever affected him the way she did. She was it for him, his past and future, his weakness and strength, his meaning for everything.
Brushing her hair to the side, he tiptoed fingers up and down her abs, inching close to her pussy without touching, and back up, lingering beneath her tits before dipping down again. With his mouth at her ear, he nipped her skin above the collar, flicked his t
ongue, and inhaled her warm scent until her head dropped back on his shoulder, breaths catching.
Her face rolled toward him, and she rubbed their cheeks together, her parted lips searching. He captured her mouth in a collision of gasps and hungry tongues that was neither soft nor gentle. He chased and hunted and fed, his fingers sinking between her legs, thrusting hard, and coaxing a moan from deep within her.
Her lower body clamped around him, her neck angling her closer as she tried to deepen the kiss. Her urgency spurred him on, making him hotter, greedier, more frantic.
“Matias, please.” She arched into him, her ass grinding against his painful cock.
He tore his mouth away, his heart tripping at a dangerous level.
“Bend forward.” He kissed her shoulder and stepped back, keeping his tone silken, yet inflexible. “Hands on your ankles. Spine straight.”
She followed his command to perfection, and he swallowed a groan. Yanking off his shirt, he used it to wipe the perspiration from his brow. Then he tossed it and knelt behind her.
He tried to start slow, his hands exploring her ass and legs, but the more he touched the more he needed. Her skin was so tight, so fucking smooth he wanted to lick and bite every inch of her. So he did, gliding his tongue and teeth across the backs of her thighs as he teased her soaking cunt with his fingers.
The hitch in her breath amped his pulse, but he kept his movements slow, sensual, savoring her goosebumps and the flex of her muscles as she anticipated the path of his lips. She was so fucking responsive he couldn’t wait any longer. He buried his mouth between her legs.