The Queen. Tiffany Reisz

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      “Deeper,” she said.

      “Faster,” she said.

      “Harder,” she said.

      Griffin did all three and he did them all at once. When she came for her fifth time it was with a cry that sounded to her own ears like pain but her body told her differently. The muscles inside her contracted all around Griffin’s fingers, hard enough he swore in her ear.

      “Fuck,” he said, slowly pulling his hand from inside her.

      “Good idea.”

      “What?”

      “Let’s fuck.”

      “But that was only number five.”

      “What did I say about the rules?” she asked.

      “You make the rules.”

      “Right. Now I’m changing the rules. I need to fuck you. I’ll die if I don’t.”

      “No one ever died from not fucking,” he reminded her.

      “Whoever said that was an idiot. Get on your back, head by the footboard. I want to tie you up and use your cock for my own selfish needs. Do you have any objection to that?”

      “I—”

      “Don’t care. Just do it.”

      He just did it.

      Her legs wobbled as she stood up and dug through Griffin’s closet for bondage toys. Not in the mood to be fancy, she grabbed a pair of basic rope cuffs, wrapped them around the top bar of the footboard and slipped them onto Griffin’s wrists.

      “Condoms?” she asked.

      “In the drawer. And between the mattresses. Also in a box under the sofa. There’s some in the bathroom, too. And the kitchen.”

      “Is there anywhere in the house you don’t have condoms?”

      “The cookie jar. There are actual cookies in there. No. Wait. There are condoms in there, too. I ate all the cookies.”

      Elle laughed so hard she had to rest her head on his chest for a minute.

      “You’re ridiculous and sexy and ridiculously sexy,” she said, meeting his eyes.

      “I know.”

      “I’m going to fuck you now.”

      “Thank you.”

      She reached into the bedside table for a condom.

      “Wait,” Griffin said, lifting his head. “Not those. The ones under the mattress.”

      Elle raised her eyebrow and slid her hand between the mattress and the bed frame. She pulled out a sheaf of condoms.

      “Your favorites?” she asked.

      “Lambskin,” he said. “Love them. I got tested last month, and you haven’t been with a guy in a year and, you know, they’re roomier. You can’t use them for anal so I save them for only the most special pussies.”

      “My pussy and I are honored.”

      Elle straddled Griffin’s hips, took his cock in her hand and guided it to the entrance of her body. She sunk down slowly onto it, relishing every inch. Already she was bathed in sweat but as Griffin entered her fully the temperature in the room rose ten degrees. Or maybe that was her body temperature rising. Didn’t matter. They were both slick with sweat and burning up for each other. When she leaned closer to him, he lifted his head and captured a nipple in his mouth, sucking it deeply, and she felt the pull of pleasure all the way into her stomach. Elle gripped the bar of the footboard over Griffin’s head and used it to steady herself as she rode him. She pushed against him and his back arched. She did it again. His eyes closed and his lips parted.

      “You’re enjoying this,” she said, rocking into him again.

      He nodded, biting his own lip, a gesture she found innocently erotic.

      “I was afraid,” he said.

      “Of what?” She touched his face.

      “Of never seeing you again.”

      “You don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going anywhere. Not with you inside me.”

      “Thank you, Mistress.”

      Elle stopped moving.

      “What?” Griffin looked at her, his eyes open again.

      “You called me Mistress.”

      “I did. Did you like that?”

      “Say it again.”

      “Yes, Mistress... Mistress... Mistress... My beautiful Mistress Nor.”

      And the more he said it, the more she wanted him to say it. And when he came it was with the word on his lips.

      She laughed and Griffin whispered, “What? What is it?”

      “Mistress Nor. I like the sound of that.”

       9

      Mistress Nora

      ELLE ATTEMPTED TO creep back into Kingsley’s town house under cover of night. A few years ago she might have succeeded in her sneaking but that was before Kingsley acquired his “children.”

      Four black Rottweilers—the children in question—bounded down the stairs, galloping toward her in a hail of paws and ears and tails and tongues. She ended up flat on her back beneath them with four wet noses in her face. Kingsley’s dogs—Brutus, Dominic, Sadie and Max—were reportedly vicious attack dogs. Anyone who knew them, however, quickly discovered that although they, like their owner, were capable of killing if necessary, in general they were lovers, not fighters.

      “Brutus, stop it,” she said as Brutus, the alpha of the bunch, stuck his nose between her thighs. “Jabberwocky.”

      “They don’t respond well to safe words,” Kingsley said from the top of the stairs.

      “Jesus Christ,” she said, petting and pushing the dogs away at the same time. “Why couldn’t you be a cat person?”

      “There’s enough pussy in this house as it is.” Kingsley started down the steps toward her. He was dressed but disheveled, looking like a well-fucked rogue. Apparently she and Kingsley had both had a nice evening. Finally he whistled, calling the dogs off her. They whimpered but obeyed their master although it was obvious they were not done with the lickings and the pettings.

      “Where’s Calliope?” Elle pulled herself off the floor and brushed herself off. СКАЧАТЬ