He rose to his feet and clipped each wrist cuff to the upper arms of the X. She tugged on them and found no give. Her legs wouldn't move either.
Anxiety surged into her like a tidal wave, filling her completely between one breath and the next. She yanked on the arm restraints harder. “I—”
A firm hand tipped her face up. He moved in front of her, hiding her from the room, his gaze on hers. “Take yourself a breath, darlin'. I'm here, and you're safe. Do you remember my name?”
She sucked air, and the panic drained away as if he'd pulled a plug. “Master Marcus.” Embrace the fear, then step past it. “I-I don't know why I reacted like that.”
His hand against her face gentled her nerves, and he stood close enough she could feel his warm breath on her temple. “It's a normal fear. You're new, and you don't know me.” He toyed with her hair, pulling a curl out and letting it spring back. “I do like your hair.”
“Um. Thank you.”
Her answer made his eyes glint with laughter. Then he abandoned her curls to circle one finger around her ear, lightly teasing. His touch brushed down her neck and dipped into the hollow of her collarbone.
“What are”—she swallowed, her mouth having gone dry—“what are you doing?”
The brilliant blue eyes met hers, hotter, brighter, searing her. “I am pleasing myself with a little sub's body.”
“But—”
“Andrea, be silent.”
She wanted to talk, to question, to stop the increasing heat in her body, and the way his hands wakened her skin, leaving each area aroused and sensitive. He skirted her breasts to encircle her waist with his hands, to tease the dip in the hollow of her spine. His hand slid under her skirt and one finger grazed the crack between her buttocks. She stiffened. He wasn't supposed to—
He smiled into her eyes and moved his attention forward. His hands ran up and down the front of her thighs, each time stopping just short of her pussy, and his avoidance caused more throbbing than if he'd actually touched her. Her hips tilted out involuntarily.
He didn't take the hint. Instead, his long fingers squeezed her waist. “Now, sweet darlin',” he murmured. “Apparently these pretty breasts don't count as being on the green ribbon list.”
He cupped one breast, drawing a gasp from her that made his lips curve.
“You know”—he braced one arm on the frame beside her restrained wrist—“some women have sensitive nipples.” His finger circled her nipple, around and around, barely touching, until just the drag of his fingertip over the increasingly puckered areola made her toes curl. He switched to the other one, and within a minute, both breasts ached.
“I do believe you're one of those women,” he murmured.
The room had heated past bearing, but he didn't seem to notice as he leisurely played with her breasts, teasing one, then the other, until they swelled to the point of pain, and her nipples spiked hard with need.
His body still only inches from hers, he slid his hand down to the inside of her thigh, tracing more circles…and each stopped just short of her pussy. The seething tension left her strung like a taut wire.
And then his firm mouth closed over hers, taking possession so swiftly her head spun. His tongue plunged within even as his hand squeezed high on her thigh, barely brushing her pussy hair. A tremor of need shook her body, then another.
He abandoned her lips to bend down and capture one nipple in his mouth. He pulled, sucking strongly, sending an excruciating jolt of pleasure through her. Her body arched on the cross.
She tried to move, to touch him, but her arms stayed fastened to the cross. No control; she had no control over what was happening at all. The knowledge filled her with heat until each breath seemed to sear her lungs.
Even as he moved to her other breast, his hands slid up under her skirt to knead her bottom, spreading and closing her cheeks. Her pussy clenched as pressure built to a clawing need.
When he returned to her mouth, she could almost feel how his lips would touch her down below. His hand fondled her breast, gently, but hard enough that she knew a man, a powerful man, touched her. A moan broke from her.
Surely he hadn't heard. But she couldn't exactly hide her arousal. She'd grown increasingly wet and realized, with her legs open, everyone would be able to see. She tried to close her legs, but the restraints held her in place and exposed, and she couldn't do anything about it. Her insides seemed to melt.
As if he'd heard her thoughts, he knelt and ran his hands up her thighs, then pressed outward, telling her without speaking how he would open her for himself.
His teeth closed on the tender inner skin of her leg, biting just hard enough to draw a gasp from her as arousal sizzled like a hot wire straight to her pussy. His mouth, hot and wet, moved higher.
When his tongue flicked over her skin, tracing circles on her thigh, her clit throbbed, begging him to go higher yet. Her legs trembled.
He straightened, his face inches from her mound, and his breath riffled the hair there. She stifled the whimper rising in her throat. Then his hands squeezed her legs, his thumbs grazing the crease between her legs and hips, so very, very close to her aching folds. “Ah can smell your arousal,” he said, pressing her thighs as far apart as her restraints would allow. “You're wet, sugar.”
Oh, she knew that. Could feel the dampness and how swollen she was down there. Dios, she wanted him to touch her.
He rose to look into her eyes again even as his fingers grazed the very top of her mound, where the hair started. “If you were my submissive, I'd want your li'l pussy shaved, slick and bare,” he said softly. “I'd probably do it myself the first time, just to enjoy the scrape of the razor on your sensitive skin.”
She quivered, drawing his gaze to her breasts. “And I'd put jewelry on these pretty nipples.” His hand pressed against an aching breast, and then he grasped the hard peak, pressing into a steady pinch that arched her back. “I'd tighten them, like this, so when I played with your pussy, when you trembled at what I was doing, the clamps would pull on your breasts.”
Heat shimmied in the air around her; his blue eyes pierced through the waves.
He closed his hands on her forearms and leaned his weight against the frame, adding to her feeling of being restrained. “I'd set your legs on my shoulders, opening you completely, and I'd take that wet pussy over and over until…” He bit her earlobe, the sharp pain wringing a whimper from her. “Until that sound was all that would come from your lips.”
He kissed her then, deeply, thoroughly. When he pulled back, Andrea blinked the haze from her eyes and stared at him, every part of her aching with need. He smiled down at her and stepped away, no longer blocking her.
People stood outside the roped-off area, and Dios help her, Master Cullen sat in a chair nearby. She felt blood rush into her face like a hot wave.
“I believe Andrea and I have become bettah acquainted.” Master Marcus set a hand on her shoulder. “Are there others she should meet now?”
“No, you can release her.”
Master Marcus undid the restraints and put a hard arm around her waist when her legs buckled. “Easy there,” he murmured. He raised her chin with his free hand. “I do like seeing you in chains, darlin'. I enjoyed becoming acquainted.”
She smiled at him, unsure whether to thank him for a lesson or punch him for leaving her so very, very aroused.
He obviously saw both expressions on her face, and he chuckled. “If you take a lick at me, I'll string you up again and make it much worse.”
Madre de Dios, just the thought made her ache even more.
He drew a finger over her swollen lips. “Say, 'Thank you for the lesson, Sir.'”
“Thank you for the lesson, Sir,” she repeated, then added sincerely, “Really.”
“You are very welcome, sugar.” He walked her over to Cullen and released her.
Cullen patted the couch so Andrea dropped down beside him. His arm came around her, muscular and strong, sending a shiver through her. After a second, she leaned against his hard side, snuggling into his embrace, a sense of safety enveloping her.
“Nice job,” she heard him say to Marcus.
“It was my pleasure, sir. Thank you for entrusting her to me.”
As Marcus walked away, Cullen turned his attention to the little sub quivering against his side. Watching Marcus rouse her had definitely been enjoyable. Her face had flushed, her full breasts swelled, and her focus had shifted inward until the room and observers had obviously disappeared from her consciousness. Marcus had played her perfectly.
At the same time, seeing Marcus touch her had created a hard knot in his gut, one that only started to ease as she nestled against him. Fuck, but he wanted to keep her to himself. Mine.
What the hell was wrong with him? He didn't get involved with trainees. He preferred not to get involved with anyone at all.
And he didn't have time to examine this idiocy now. Trainee, Cullen, she's a trainee. Get back on track here. “So, little sub, did you enjoy the cross?”
She sat up, her still-swollen breasts swaying, begging for his touch. “You know, Master Cullen, aside from my father, you're the only person who ever called me little.”
Trying to evade the question, was she? But he'd go along for the moment. “You are little. See?” When he lifted her hand and set his forearm next to hers, his thick muscles made her toned arm look like a toothpick.