I’m dizzy, nearing orgasm, and right on the cusp of passing out. He removes his hand from my neck, and a beat later, his wet finger circles my ass. I still, or I go as still as one can when your legs are threatening to give out from under you. He pushes into the tight, puckered flesh with his thumb. I moan against his hand, darting out my tongue to lick him, taste him. He tastes like my Sir; he tastes like me. I smile against his hand. As angry as I was that he drugged me, I can’t find it in me to be mad, because I want this. I want to give up control to him.
And I never want him to leave me again.
I want to always be his little one, his Pet, and if that means giving up my freedom, then he can take it. I don’t want it.
Like a tsunami tide, my orgasm threatens to overpower me. His rough hands, his cock and fingers inside me, his spicy cologne—all of it is too much. “Please, Sir. Please may I come?”
His dark chuckle presses down on the air around us. It wraps me up, engulfs me like a shroud. God, how I love that sound. “Yes, my greedy little whore. Come on my cock. Come with my fingers in your ass, and show your Sir how much you missed him.”
As if his words were caresses, I come, clenching hard around him. I bite down on his fingers as I ride out the rest of my orgasm.
Sir pivots his hips, a low moan reverberating around the cabin. He comes, hard, and the brutal force drives me closer to another orgasm. I rock my hips against his and squeeze my inner muscles. He gasps. “Fuck, Pet. Your cunt is so fucking hot, so tight. So mine.”
He falls heavily against my back, pushing me deeper into the soft armchair. His hands dig into my hips so hard I know I’ll have bruises, his bruises, his brand.His.
I milk him for every last drop of creamy cum. Ares’ hands move from my hips to band around my waist, and he pulls me up, his cock still buried deep inside me, and positions us both in his chair. His hands trace the swell of my breasts and thighs, the crevice between them until finally his fingers find where we are joined, sticky and wet, and he caresses the oversensitive flesh. His, mine—it’s all the same, because I am nothing without my master and he is nothing without his Pet.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Pet
The next few hoursare spent snacking, dozing, and kneeling at his feet where I belong.
When the pilot announces that we’re on schedule for an eight thirty p.m. landing, and that the weather in San Miguel de Allende is a mild 58°F, I glance up at Ares. “Mexico?”
“It’s the safest place to get lost.”
“I’ve never been.” I frown. “Or if I have, I don’t remember. Did you grow up in Mexico?”
“I did.”
“Where? When did you leave?” His face shuts down, and I know I won’t get the answers I seek. Resigned, I say, “Enough questions, I know.”
“I grew up in Mexico City, Pet. For the most part. Then we moved around until my father found somewhere that stuck.”
My mouth gapes. I can’t believe Ares just shared a tiny little snippet of his life with me. Granted it wasn’t much, but at least he didn’t shut me down altogether. I open my mouth, greedy for more, but he levels me with an impatient look, as if maybe he’s regretting telling me anything at all.